#got into a fight with my husband about the events of civil war anyways hears some stony fluff that he beta read for me ;)

[fourdaysofrain]

‘Tis The Season (For Hot Chocolate)

Summary: Peter visits Tony in his cabin over winter break.

(You’re probably gonna see a million of these today, but this is my @irondadsecretsanta for @theoceanphoenixhasrisen! Hope you like it, buddy!)

Read on AO3

The crunch of gravel under the Uber’s tires jolted Peter from his stupor. He hadn’t been sleeping, but he hadn’t been entirely awake. The last thing he remembered was the rush of buildings outside the window, but now there was only a smattering of trees. He shook his shoulders to loosen them up and adjusted the seat belt strapped across his chest. 

Leaving the city always made him nervous. Suburbia was just a little too wild for Spider-Man. Thankfully Tony’s cabin still had the sounds of the woods and water filtering through the windows, but still. It’s hard to sleep with all that silence. 

“Have a good nap?” the driver asked from the front seat. 

“Yeah.” Peter had completely forgotten about him. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.”

As if spurred by Peter’s response, the driver continued to speak. “Gonna be quite a storm, eh?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Peter looked out the car window to see a few snowflakes falling down. Nothing was sticking yet.

The driver’s wide green eyes flicked to Peter’s through the rear-view mirror. “It’s the Blip causin’ it, you know. Everyone coming back all at once like that, it’s bound to cause some damage.”

Peter nodded as politely as he could. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before; it was basically all New York could talk about recently. How would the Blip affect the climate? Apparently, the few winters during the Blip were the coldest on record. As with the rest of the doubts about its long-term effects, they could only wait and see. 

He was happy to get some form of solace from the sight of Tony’s cabin. 

“Can you pull over here, please?” He motioned to the side of the gravel road. Hopefully Tony wouldn’t mind bringing a stranger this close to his house. They were still outside of FRI’s sphere of influence, at least.

The frosty gravel noisily crackled as the Uber parked on the side of the road. “Need any help with your bags?” the driver asked as they both walked out towards the trunk. He popped it open and Peter grabbed his small suitcase and backpack easily.

“I’ll be good, thanks.” Peter looked to the cabin and back to the driver. “Happy holidays, man!”

The driver nodded and got back into the driver’s seat. “Have a good one!”

The car drove away and left Peter standing alone about 500 feet from the cabin with his suitcase at his feet. It felt strangely symbolic in some way. The moment was broken by him lunging for his phone to give a rating and tip to his driver. 

Peter sighed and started walking the rest of the way to the cabin. It was well worth the cold, he convinced himself. Tony still thought that he was stuck on campus for another couple of days. The only people in on it were May and Pepper. This surprise trip had been Pepper’s idea, actually. She was on a week-long trip to Europe to meet with some big-wig investors and had been worried Tony would be too lonely with just himself and Morgan at the cabin. May agreed, and now Peter was surprising Tony with a night spent at the cabin and an invitation to his and May’s apartment for the next couple of days. 

He finally spotted the gnarled old tree that marked FRIDAY’s border. He jogged over and shuffled his feet a bit before speaking. He always felt weird talking to FRI at the cabin. It was too rustic looking to house an AI, but yet, she was ever-present as always. 

“Hey, FRI.” He chewed his lip and hoped no one was watching him talk to a tree. ”I’m trying to surprise Mr. Stark, so can you promise to not tell him I’m here?”

He waited for a few beats, but there was no response from the AI. He frowned. Normally she gave some sort of response, even though she didn’t have any speakers set up outside the cabin. A text on his phone, or something. 

“Wrong tree!” came a voice from his right. He swung his head over and saw Tony smiling next to a pile of half-chopped firewood. He was walking over much too calmly to be surprised. 

“No, it’s the uh...” Peter looked over to the tree and counted the branches. “Isn’t it the big dead one with four branches?”

Tony finally reached him and pulled him into a hug. “Nice to see you, kid.”

“Yeah, nice to see you too.” Peter broke the hug and glared warmly at Tony. ”But you’re supposed to be surprised!”

“FRIDAY used to be in this tree with four branches-- you’re right about that.” Tony points at the tree Peter just finished talking to and then pointed to where the gravel road bends through the trees to reach the main road behind them. “But you’ve been gone since August. I got bored. Now she monitors everyone who comes off the main road and can be talked to from anywhere on the property. By the time you get back from next semester, I’m hoping she can talk back, too.”

Peter sighed. Surprising a billionaire super-engineer was impossible. He’d have to put some of his MIT skills to use next year if he wanted to succeed. 

“So you saw the Uber, then,” he said. 

Tony hummed in affirmation. “I’m honestly offended you didn’t use Happy. I’m deeply offended on his behalf.” “I swung as far as I could, but had to Uber the rest of the way.” He adjusted his backpack’s straps. “And Happy can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

Tony snorted and looked away to the pile of firewood. “Morgan’s still taking her afternoon nap.” He looks back to Peter with an eyebrow quirked up competitively. “Ever used an ax?”

Peter, as it turned out, was very good at chopping firewood. It took him a while to get over the whole not-needing-to-hold-himself-back thing, but once he did, the log slices were being split with one quick chop. 

“You’re catching up, Pete,” Tony said from his own pile, a few yards away. 

Peter wiped sweat from his brow and his eyes lit up with an idea. He threw the ax to the side and picked up a log on its own. It didn’t feel too sturdy. 

“I could probably just…” He trailed off as he tossed the log between his hands. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed it firmly near the center of its cut-off end and pulled. The crack of splitting wood filled the grassy area. Peter examined the split: it was a little rougher than if he had used the ax, but it was much more efficient. It didn’t need to be a pretty cut, they were going to burn it all anyways. He threw the sloppy halves onto the top of his pile. 

He looked over to Tony, mouth open and ready to brag, but stopped when he saw the expression on his face. 

Tony was staring at Peter’s hands with his eyes slightly wide and nostrils flared. He flexed the palm of his right hand a few times, which caused his thumb and little finger to move jerkily. It was an awkward remnant from his time spent in the suit that looked especially strange with his prosthetic. 

“You okay, Tony?” Peter cautiously asked. He walked over towards him to… do something helpful, he hoped. Maybe start by taking the ax away from him. But before he could reach him, Tony blinked and it was like a switch had been flipped. He was back to how he was a few seconds ago.

“I’m doing perfect, kid.” Tony set down his ax and clapped his hands together. “How about we head in, Mo’s probably gonna be up soon.” He motioned between the two piles of wood. “Loser with enhanced strength takes in the wood. We’ll only need a few pieces for tonight. I’ll get your bags.”

Peter grabbed an armful of firewood and lightly jogged to catch up with Tony on the way back to the cabin. Tony seemed to be back to normal, but there was a tenseness in his shoulders that betrayed the easy smile on his face. 

“You sure you’re good, Mr. Stark?” Tony gave a short dry chuckle and looked away.

“Remember when you were young and easy to lie to?” Tony sighed as he peered at Peter through the corner of his eye. “I think back on that time fondly. You’d believe anything I told you.”

Peter jutted his chin out. “You never lied to me.”

“‘Course not,” Tony quipped. He turned to Peter with a grin. “I never had to.”

Peter rolled his eyes as the two stepped on the porch of the cabin. He dropped the wood noisily in the corner and took a second to appreciate the view. The sun had already mostly set, making the woods a comfortably eerie backdrop. Although it was barely 5pm, the sky was quickly darkening. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground-- Peter guessed that it had finally started to stick sometime in the past half hour or so. The snow was falling lazily from the clouds above. 

“I assume you expect me to get you dinner, then?” 

Tony’s soft voice took Peter out of his reverie. He coughed awkwardly before responding. “Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind. You know how I get when it’s cold.”

“And by that, you mean your whole…” Tony paused to point vaguely at Peter. “Storing energy for hibernation thing.”

Peter crossed his arms with a huff. “Geez, you sleep through one week of high school and it’s all anyone ever talks about.”

Tony laughed and gripped Peter’s shoulder with his good hand. “You’ll get it when you’ve got kids of your own.” He quickly cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go wake up the princess, you find a takeout menu in the junk drawer.”

Peter hummed as Tony went inside. He took in the outdoors for another second before following him into the cabin.

“You’re a traitor, FRI,” he greeted as he walked to the kitchen.

It only took a second for her voice to come online. “Welcome back, Peter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered as he opened the junk drawer and rummaged for an appealing take out menu.

Navigating Tony’s cabin was second nature to Peter. He knew it as intimately as he knew May’s apartment. Simply being inside it was a comfort after the months he spent in an unfamiliar dorm. 

He picked out a menu and it wasn’t long before him, Tony, and Morgan were squished onto the couch with a plate of food each and gently debating which movie to watch.

“We watched Coco in Spanish class when it came out back in 2017-- it’s great and Morgan needs to see it,” Peter offered. 

“I can’t watch another musical, kid,” Tony complained. 

“I wanna watch Frozen 3 again!” Morgan argued. 

Eventually, they agreed with Morgan and promised each other to stop being such pushovers by the time she realized how easy it would be to take advantage of them. 

Tony and Peter were both beginning to doze on either side of Morgan as the movie ended. Peter jerked awake when Morgan shook his shoulder.

“Are you sleeping?” she asked.

He stole a glance at Tony sitting on the opposite side of the couch, whose eyes were closed with his mouth was open in an unflattering circle. As great as it was to see Tony having restful sleep, Peter knew he would be complaining about his back all day tomorrow if he slept on the couch. 

Peter looked back to Morgan. “I’m not, but I think your dad is. Why don’t you go upstairs and I’ll wake him up for you?”

Morgan nodded and ran upstairs, leaving Peter alone with Tony, who looked like he was just about to start snoring. He leaned over and held a hand halfway to his shoulder before pulling it back and electing to just use his voice.

“The movie’s over,” he whispered. Tony responded with a heavy exhale that started to rumble in his chest. Peter raised his voice. “Tony, wake up!”

Tony sharply cleared his throat and blinked open his eyes. “Was just resting my eyes,” he said with a voice heavy with sleep. 

“Morgan’s up in her bedroom already,” he said, deciding not to refute Tony’s point. “You should say goodnight to her, I’m gonna go bring my stuff to the guest room.”

Tony groaned as he stretched his back and stood up. “How many times do you have to stay over before I convince you it’s not a guest room? You’re the only one who I let use it, kid.”

Oh, that’s nice, Peter thought. And then, He should really invite more people over.

“Okay, then uh-- I’ll just take these to my room, then.” He grabbed his bags from where they were resting against the wall. “By the way, I’m going back to May’s in the morning and she wanted me to invite you and Morgan until Pepper gets back.”

(He decides not to mention how he pestered May about inviting them for the week leading up to this trip.)

Tony followed Peter to the stairs. “Is there enough room?”

“Yeah, we think.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “I’m gonna take the couch, Morgan can take my room, and then May said she can share her room with you.”

Seeing the look on Tony’s face, Peter backtracked. “Or, I mean, I can spend the night at Ned’s so you don’t have to share a bed with May. Or you can like, just stay here.”

“Kid, relax,” Tony said through a chuckle. Peter was starting to revert back to his anxious 14-year-old style of rambling. “I’d love to. If May’s okay with it, I am too. ‘Sides, the little miss always loves seeing her aunt.”

Peter smiled back at Tony as he went to open the door to the guest room. Tony watched as his hand hesitated at the doorknob. He suddenly felt very emotional. Maybe it was just how Tony was standing in his pajamas, looking at him with a casual smile, but he felt loved. Being in Tony’s orbit meant you never felt ignored. Sometimes it meant you couldn’t go patrolling whenever you wanted or you had to put up with nonsensical texts sent annoyingly early in the morning when he stays up all night, but most of the time it was this: seeing Tony when he’s vulnerable. There’s something to be said about seeing the universe’s savior when he’s just a person. When he’s tinkering on your newest suit after you visit him with one-too-many stab wounds. When he’s smiling at one of your jokes over a crowded dinner table. Or right now, when he’s about to read a bedtime story to his daughter but he’s still making sure you’re comfortable. 

“Do you need a bedtime story too?” 

“No, I was just…” Peter shifted his weight between his feet. “Y’know, thanks for everything.”

Tony’s lips slowly stretched into a smile. “Of course, kid. It’s what I do.” He opened up the door to Morgan’s room. “Night, Pete.”

“Night, Mr. Stark.”

Peter finally entered the guest room, his room, and dropped his bags on the rug. May made fun of him for packing so much for an overnight trip, but he never knew what to expect. His backpack was filled with homework he had to do before the next term started. He had been so sure he’d have the will to do it while he was packing it, but now he just wanted to sleep. He begrudgingly took out his mechanical engineering textbook and started to read. 

He woke up with his face resting somewhere between kinematics and thermodynamics. He groaned and checked the time. It was after 3am. He groaned. While his bed was still calling to him, he felt compelled to go down to the kitchen. 

When he got there, he saw Tony fiddling with the coffee maker. He looked a bit deranged, like a bear trying to get into a trash can. 

“Hey, man.” Peter jumped up to sit on the counter across from him. 

Tony jumped at his voice and turned around. When he saw Peter, he deflated. “Mornin’, kid.”

“Coffee machine not working?” Peter asked, nodding at the array of red lights on the appliance. 

Tony sniffed. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a touchy subject right now.”

“Cool, cool.” Peter looked from the machine to Tony’s empty mug when an idea came to him. “Hey, do you wanna make hot chocolate?”

“There’s probably some mix in the pantry somewhere. Feel free to rummage,” Tony said as he waved a hand nonchalantly. 

Peter kicked off the counter and started searching. It took him a few minutes to find everything he needed. He laid out a few packets of hot chocolate mix, milk, two mugs, and candy canes on the counter. He was even able to find some peppermint extract in the pantry, which was probably leftover from holiday baking. Tony just leaned against the counter and watched as he flitted from cabinet to cabinet. 

“Isn’t peppermint a spider repellent?” he asked as Peter filled the two mugs with milk and put them in the microwave. Peter turned and saw him looking at the small bottle. 

Peter grabbed two spoons as the microwave hummed. “Yeah, I think May read that on Pinterest a while back.” A beat. “Wait, is that why you didn’t let me eat any of your candy canes last year?”

Tony’s silence spoke volumes. 

“Wow,” Peter said. “I don’t know whether to be honored or offended. Not all spiders are the same.” He took the now steaming mugs out of the microwave and stirred in a generous amount of hot chocolate powder. “I’m still good with all the same things, by the way. May and I tested all of the ‘natural spider repellents’ on me when she read the article.” He screwed his face up as he continued to stir. ”I didn’t like lemon, but I didn’t like that before either.”

“Duly noted.” Tony walks to look over Peter’s shoulder as he works. “So what’s with all this then?”

Peter debated not telling him. It would be easy to just make up some story about how some Buzzfeed video showed a new and exciting way to make hot chocolate, or something like that. But Tony would probably be able to see through it easily. He could read him like a book. Sometimes it sucked, but honestly, it was nice for someone who he’s not related to care about him enough to be able to know when something was up. 

He took the spoons out of the mugs and set them in the sink, carefully not making eye contact with Tony. 

“Ben and I used to make hot chocolate in the winter.” He motioned to the remainder of the ingredients on the counter. ”He taught me how to make it like this.”

Tony nodded. “Good man.”

“He was,” Peter said softly. And then, a little stronger, “He was. You should have met him.” 

“I would have loved that.” Tony cleared his throat to reset the atmosphere. “Should I leave the room, or am I allowed in on the secret?”

Peter debated that for a moment, then got embarrassed for making such a big deal out of it, then chided himself for acting like it didn’t matter. Sure, it was a simple adjustment to the norm that Tony could easily guess. He was sure there were a million families that made hot chocolate the exact same way. But it was one of the few sacred things that Ben left behind. One of the very few Parker family secrets, left for the one of the very few remaining Parkers. 

“Pete?”

Peter looked up to Tony from where he had been staring at the still-swirling hot chocolate. He smiled nervously.

“Sorry, just uh… thinking.” He picked up the bottle of peppermint extract and shook it in his hand. He didn’t mind adding a third person to their ritual. “Yeah, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Tony’s face softened minutely. Even though Peter didn’t let on to how personal this was, he seemed to understand. 

That was the good thing about Tony: Peter didn’t need to say everything he felt for the message to get across. 

“So,” Peter started, rolling up his sleeves. He wasn’t going to do anything messy, but it felt like the professional thing to do. “You start by making hot chocolate normally, which we’ve done.”

Tony grabbed one of the mugs and stood right next to Peter and his mug. “Got it.”

“Then, you add a few drops of peppermint extract and stir it with a candy cane.” Peter passed the bottle and a candy cane to Tony once he’s done.

Tony repeated what he did and looked at him expectantly.

“And then,” Peter said in a low voice. “And then, you’re done. Sorry, that was--”

He was cut off by a hand on his shoulder. “I dig it, kid. Keepin’ it simple.”

They shared a smile. 

Tony nodded his head towards the kitchen table and they both took a seat. They sat without speaking for a moment, just enjoying being in the same room after Peter’s term at college. Eventually, Tony broke the silence. 

“You reminded me of Cap earlier,” he stated matter-of-factly. “It surprised me, is all. I sometimes forget that you’re…” He waved a hand at him vaguely. “Enhanced.”  He finished by averting his eyes and taking a sip of his hot chocolate. 

Peter looked down at his hands and flexed them. “Sorry.”

“No. Lord, no.” Peter looked up and saw Tony leaning over the table to make eye contact with him. “I’m not saying that to make you... “ He leaned back in his chair and put a hand over his face. “I’m trying to have a moment with you.”

Peter raised his eyebrows at him.

“I care about you,” he said simply.

“So you’ve said.” 

Tony’s lips quirked at that. “It’s surprising to how much you’ve grown. I mean, for God’s sake, do you remember our first Christmas together?”

Peter took a sip of his hot chocolate and sent his mind back. He had shown up to the Avenger’s tower with a rumpled present and an awkward grin the day after Christmas. Tony, although he hadn’t expected him to show up, welcomed him in and led him to the living room where him and Rhodey were drinking mulled wine. By the end of the night, he had ordered a few packages to be sent to Peter’s apartment in the morning. 

“Yeah, it was really cool.”

“You’ve gotten a lot stronger since then. More confident. Not to say that you couldn’t pull apart some wood back then.” Tony made a face. “I-- Lord. I’m terrible at this.”

Peter didn’t deny that.

“What I’m trying to say,” Tony said, “is that I’m proud of you. Sometimes it just surprises me when you prove how capable you are. I don’t have to worry about you anymore, it’s nice.” He scratched his eyebrow. ”Of course, I still worry, but I know I don’t have to.”

Something soft and warm bloomed in Peter’s chest. 

“Thanks, Tony.” His voice came out a little fragiler than normal. He cleared his throat. “I uh-- I get what you’re saying. It means a lot.”

Tony grabbed his now-empty mug and walked around the table to clap Peter on the shoulder. “Anytime, kid.” He took Peter’s empty mug too and went to the sink to rinse them out. “That hot chocolate was great, you’ll have to come over and make it more often!” he called behind him. 

“Yeah, for sure,” Peter responded. He stood up and stretched. “Anyways, we should get to bed. I want to leave for May’s before noon so we can have lunch together.”

Tony turned around to look at him directly. “Kid, have you not looked outside?”

Peter shook his head and Tony pointed his chin to a nearby window. Wow. There was at least a foot of snow on the ground and it was still coming down heavily from the gray clouds above. No way they were driving home now. He said as much to Tony. 

“Looks like you’re going to be spending more than just the night here.”

Peter shrugged. 

There were worse places to be. 

Tag List:  @ironfamjam @addi-is-amazing @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch @wellplacedbanana @night0seven @unfathomable-universe​ @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @spideynamu

[cecilspeaks]

147 - The Protester

Hot singles in your area are staring into the forest and grinning absently. 

Welcome to Night Vale.

Astronomers are frantically trying to determine why a chunk of the moon is missing. Ragged and greedy like a slice removed from a pie by hungry hands rather than a civilized serving utensil, the gap in the moon has been baffling professional sky gazers for weeks. Fun fact: did you know a group of astronomers is called a commotion?

Astronomers believe the moon could be eroding, because people have stopped believing in it, like ancient Roman polytheism. Others have theorized that the moon was damaged by enemy ships in the ongoing Blood Space War. But people on the internet have countered that this is part of the mandala effect, and that that piece of the moon has always been missing and we’re collectively misremembering. Like how those beloved picture book bears that we all remember as the Berenstein Bears, have by all physical evidence always actually been spelled “The Dog Pound Boyzzzz”. Boyz with a Z. Because of the 2016 city ordinance that proclaimed that anything can be true if you say it loud enough, astronomers are forced to consider all sides.

I don’t know any astronomers, but I do know a scientist! My husband Carlos has been the leading scientific mind in Night Vale since we started dating, almost six years ago. Carlos says that he has been studying and interesting meteorite he found out in the sand wastes and scrublands beyond Night Vale. He believes this particular rock is a piece of the moon. Standing before a giant wall of blinking lights, flickering screens and intermittent beeps, Carlos determined that this piece of the moon broke off only one month ago. But this is impossible, because no one can remember seeing the moon breaking apart in the sky. Well, maybe we were all asleep when it happened, I told Carlos as I dabbed away a small crumb from a cheese Danish that had gotten stuck in his beard. Oh, fun fact: Carlos grew a beard! And I have never liked beards on men, but now – I do. It’s got two thin silver racing stripes down the chin, and the hair is so soft. We’ve been married over two years and every day, I fall more in love.

Oh right, the moon, OK good God, always with the moon. [mutters] Yeah, yeah… Carlos has been studying an unusual number of empty homes and businesses about town. He noticed that the houses on either side of us are completely empty, but he didn’t remember them being empty before. He remembers us having neighbors, but he couldn’t name a single thing about them. He believes this might be related to the damaged moon. Whatever happened a month ago to the moon immediately caused us all to forget it, because something in our timeline changed. Carlos said: “Perhaps we are not forgetting people and events, perhaps they never existed at all.” His eyes were cloudy with pensive thought, and I touched his furry cheek and said: “You’ll save us, hon. I know you will.” He smiled and asked if I’d be willing to reach out to archeology professor Harrison Kip again. Carlos, uh, had been communicating with Kip about this very issue, but now emails to Harrison keep bouncing back, and his phone number is no longer in the phone company’s database of working numbers. I laughed and said: “Carlos, I don’t know who Harrison Kip is!” Carlos looked worried, and said he wasn’t sure he did either. But he felt like he should.

Protestors have organized a sit in in front of city hall, demanding an end to the Blood Space War. The city council, seeing the crowd of about 150 people gathered around the front entrance of their building, took immediate action. They announced they would be taking a long planned family vacation to the Badlands National Park in South Dakota, until this whole protest thing runs its course. “We don’t believe South Dakota actually exists,” the single-bodied, multi-voiced council said. “When you look at a map, it seems like it exists, like it’s just right there when you look at it and it’s between two other identical states, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. Anyway, this feels like a great time to take the kids to see Mount Rushmore.” As the city council said this, several small childlike heads emerged from the city council’s singular body and screamed in happy unison. Or terrified unison. Mm, it’s hard to get an emotional reading on screams.

The organizer of the protest is 20-year-old Night Vale community college student, Basimah Bishara, whose father Lieutenant Fakir Bishara returned home from the Blood Space War three years ago. Basimah greeted her father’s return with joy, but that joy has since been replaced by confusion and pain. Let’s hear Basimah’s story in her own words.

Basimah: Time no longer works correctly for my father. I understand time does not work correctly for many people in Night Vale, but it had always worked correctly for him before the war. In December 2015, he returned home after 11 years of serving our city, our country, our planet in a war that still makes no sense to me. I was six when he volunteered for service, he was 30. 11 years later when he returned home, I was 17. My father was 19. He did not remember joining in the war nor having a daughter nor meeting his wife. He is a teenager, like I was. I no longer am a teenager, but my father still is. He has stayed 19 years old. Time no longer works correctly for him.

My mother Tahira raised me. She expressed reticence about the band I started, the music we played. She grounded me when my grades slipped and shouted at me when I told her I had a girlfriend. But she came to love Marina and more, my mother came to understand as both as people, as women. Not as rivers to be damned or levied.

My father’s return has been especially hard on her, because she is 45 and her husband is a 19-year-old stranger. You probably know what it’s like to have a father, to have a man much older than you who changed your diapers or watched your diapers being changed. Who taught you to speak or ride a bike, who helped you develop as a human from an animal from a larva from the simplest, squirming wad of meat into an adult. That father will always be a father, not a friend, not an equal, a father. You probably do not know what it’s like to see a father at your age, to talk with your father when he is also barely an adult. To have your father lonely and inquisitive think of you as his only friend in the world, while you look to him for guidance and love. But he is incapable of both, at least not in the way you need to be guided and loved.

It took two years for Fakir to open up about the war and it still makes no sense to him nor me. The Blood Space War requires constant shifts through time, through worm holes to change lost battles into won battles, to undo what has already been undone thousands, millions of times over. The future does not look like a blank page, it looks like a tattered sheet of paper, grayed and frayed from countless transcriptions and erasures of history. Battles are won and then undone through time travel. We lose our lives and then regain them by traveling backwards and fighting again. We are winning the war by perpetuating the war. Last month, the Polonians attacked our earth, I am sure of it. The only evidence is our broken moon. I believe the general undid this attack with time travel and this has changed our reality, changed who was born, who ever lived in the first place. People are disappearing because they will have never existed.

People think we’re crazy for protesting. I’m 20 and my father is still 19. I’m not crazy. My mother Tahira is not crazy. We are angry.

Our next protest is scheduled this afternoon at the corner of Earl and Somerset by the Dog Park near the Ralphs.

Cecil: Not sure what Basimah was referring to. That’s an empty lot by the Ralphs. There was word for a dog park to be built there many years ago, but it never materialized.

[clears throat] Let’s have a look now at local news. Earth sciences professor Simone Rigideau announced today that she is scrapping all text books and lesson plans at the community college in favor of organized prayer to a god named Huntokar. Several students and parents argued against such an extreme divergence from core curriculum in favor of French religious practices, but college president Sarah Sultan supported her staff member by saying: “Cut Simone some slack. She doesn’t even teach classes. She’s a transient who lived in a storage closet inside the earth sciences building for 20 years. The only reason she has the title of professor is because of antiquated squatter’s rights laws.” Rigideau donned rabbit furs and an old bicycle frame wraught into the shape of antlers, and began spray paintin the Fibonacci sequence on the cars in the college parking lot, all the while singing a ballad about clocks.

The intergalactic military headquarters released their first quarter earnings statmenet this week. Investors were displeased to see that each of the board members of the privately own space defense contractor had purchased a 125-foot yachts and NFL franchises. But those fears were quickly allayed by the announcement of layoffs of more than 5,000 employees. Stock prices for the intergalactic military soared to an all time high this afternoon, at 490 dollars a share. Senior strategic advisor Jameson Archibald said the intergalactic military has no actual earned income. 100 per cent of their gross is from venture capital. Archibald said: “Some investors keep asking how we plan to monetize our military, which is a stupid question, man! I mean, look at this Patek Philippe watch I bought. It’s encrusted with 10 pounds of diamonds, and the watch face was made using an actual piece of the Sistine Chapel. We are doing fine.” Archibald added that the intergalactic military is developing an app and a subscription service that allows people to engage in celestial war fare any time they want for only 12,99 a month.

Alright, listeners, I heard back from Basimah, and she said I was right. There is no dog park. Of course I was right. If I knew there was a dog park being built in this town, I would have reported it immediately. Carlos and I have a dog. His name is Aubergine because he’s purple and European, and Auby is adorable and we love him dearly. I mean, I wasn’t into the idea of having to care for a dog, but Carlos strongly urged this case one morning over breakfast when he said, “I think we should get a dog”, and 20 minutes later, we were leaving the SPCA with our adopted pet. [clears throat]

Basimah said she was positive there was a dog park next to the Ralphs, but when she arrived at the corner of Earl and Somerset, it was all empty lots. To be honest, I don’t remember her mentioning a Ralphs before, because I would have corrected her. There’s never been a Ralphs affiliate in Night Vale. This is what Basimah had to say. Um, hang on, let me just insert the tape I used to record her. And there we go.

Basimah: If a person never exists, did they disappear? If you never knew them, can you miss them? My father spends most of his days playing basketball with friends he made at the rec center. He is 19 years old and trying to escape a decade of inescapable drama from warfare. Asked him who my mother was. I grew up with only my uncle Omar and did not know my parents until my father returned from war. Fakir did not remember my mother. He did not remember his marriage or my birth, because it has not happened yet in his timeline. Asked what if mother didn’t exist at all. What if the general’s time traveling has altered our lives so much that my mother was never born and you can never meet her. My father, the teenager said: “If I never met a woman, I do not know I will not miss her. But I’ll meet another woman.” I asked: “What if I was never born?” My dad said: “Basi?” He hid his tears and then he hugged me, but it was not the hug of a father and daughter. It was the hug of a son and mother. He buried his head into my shoulder and sobbed, repeating: “Basi! Basi!” And I comforted his heaving head with my palm. I said: “Father, Fakir. I think I shall no longer exist soon. [voice fades] I think I-

Oh OK, sorry for the dead air, listeners, I was playing a recording of an interview I did. Wait, nope. I just checked, there’s no tape in the player at all. I thought I had been talking with… Ugh. Aah! Who have I been talking to? Maybe it was my husband Carlos reporting on his findings about the damage done to our moon or, mh, or maybe it was nothing at all. [clears throat] Well, let us forget that we forgot, and go now To the weather.

[Shake” by Wednesday’s Wolves https://www.wednesdayswolves.com]

We have an update on the Blood Space War, Night Vale. John Peters says his brother has returned home again. When he left a month ago, James Peters was 22 years old. But he is now in his seventies, which is the age he should be. John held his brother tightly, crying in gratitude and relief that his own family could return to some kind of normalcy. James at first was heartened to see John again, to see his home again, and to learn that he and the general had thwarted the Polonian attack on our planet. But his tearful smile drifted slowly downward, an evening shadow overtaken by night. Upon James’ face now was the sudden knowledge that he had made a grave error. James looked around Night Vale seeing empty lots and homes, abandoned buildings and sparse streets. According to James, thousands of people have gone missing from Night Vale, because they never existed or never moved here in the first place. The general had leapt in time to successfully stop the Polonians from ever reaching Earth, but the change in the timeline caused Night Vale to change too.

Listeners, this may seem strange, but perhaps there are people you once knew, family you once lived with, places you were in, all of which are gone, and without your knowing. I have tried hard to think of any memory of any experience or person I have lost in the last month, but I can think of none. I told James Peters that perhaps the change in timeline did not matter if no one knew what they had lost, if no one noticed any change. James said: “Cecil, I just don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe if we had a scientific perspective on this, we could better understand how this is affecting us as a community.” And I said I didn’t know any scientists, not personally anyway. There’s the strange woman who lives in the storage closet at the community college, I suppose we could ask her.

The important thing is that we are safe, and that another veteran has returned home, and it is another beautiful day in Night Vale.

Stay tuned next for “Conspiring to Love”, our new relationship advice show, which as a lifelong bachelor sounds like something I should check out.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: “Nothing lasts forever” is a phrase with two meanings, and they’re both true.

[tonystarktogo]

For your AU post! I LOVE secretly married Aus, so how about one of those? I'm thinking IronPanther, maybe? Or IronFalcon! One of those (first one would be preferred, but both are great!), they've known each other much longer than in canon (obviously) and for some reason their relationship get's made public/ the other avengers find out?

Oh man do I enjoy Secretly Married AUs!! The drama, anon. The drama. Also fluff. Please fluff because unhappy endings break my heart. Anyways, I like both pairings, so I’m just gonna go with IronPanther. Btw this turned into a Post CW ficlet that focuses mostly on Tony and T’Challa, I hope that’s alright!

It happens on their fifteen year anniversary because of course it does. The universe refuses to grant them a single moment of peaceful happiness after all. Looking back Tony really doesn’t know how he didn’t see this coming.

And it’s so unfair because the last six months have been hard on the both of them. The last two years, to be honest. With the whole Civil War mess, T’Chaka’s death, the fighting and betrayal–well, Tony wishes he could say he was able to keep those events from affecting his marriage, but that would be nothing more than wishful thinking. The first time they had been fighting side by side and T’Challa had been in too much pain, too blinded by his desire for revenge for him to enjoy the moment, never mind that he’d been fighting against half his team. Then there was the matter of Siberia, of his husband taking Rogers and Barnes with him and leaving Tony behind and-

There’s a hand on his shoulder, warm and grounding, the pleasantly familiar sound of T’Challa’s voice, talking to him, slowly drowning out the ugly thoughts in Tony’s head.

He takes a shaky breath, blinks, meets his husband’s worried gaze. “Sorry,” he thinks he mumbles, and wishes the trembling would stop already.

It hasn’t been a good day. Not after someone–the Dora Milaje are already looking into it–leaked those pictures of them to the international press. Tony wants to laugh, but it ends up coming out as more of a hysterical sob.

Fifteen years. They’ve managed to keep their marriage a secret for fifteen years. Sure, they have been times they both wished the hiding would stop, but there had never quite been the right moment to announce it, and now? After everything? They were still trying to do damage control with the fall-out from the Accords, Tony honestly isn’t sure whether there could have been much of a worse moment for this to be revealed.

Forget the UN and Ross for a moment, how would Rogers and his little band of followers take the news? Their presence in Wakanda couldn’t become known,  at this stage it might lead to an actual war against the country and-

“Hush, my heart,” T’Challa’s voice rings strong and clear in Tony’s ears, and he allows himself to sink back into his husband’s arms, until his head is resting against T’Challa’s chest, listening to the rhythmic heartbeat.

“What are we gonna do?” Tony whispers, hopeless and worried and so, so, tired.

“We will figure something out,” T’Challa replies without hesitation, cards his hand through Tony’s hair. “Our marriage is not something I have ever been ashamed of, beloved, nor should we be. It is a bond of joy and love, that should be honoured. Ultimately there is nothing anyone can do. We have broken no laws, nor do we owe the world an explanation. And I will be glad to walk proudly by your side, instead of watching you across yet another hall.“

Almost against his will, Tony can feel himself relaxing, soaking up the utter calmness T’Challa exudes, the easy confidence soothing his frayed nerves. Rationally he knows they have faced much, much worse, knows that even though things aren’t gonna be easy, this particular issue will eventually be solved–but T’Challa makes him believe it, without hesitation or doubt.

“Love you,” he says into the high-quality shirt he’s burrowed his face in–it’s so soft too, Tony approves of his husband’s taste–because he can’t think of anything else to say. Most people would describe Tony as ‘incapable of shutting up’ but when it comes to his personal relationships, he has never been the most articulate.

The arms around him tighten, and he can hear T’Challa’s smile in his responding, “I love you too, my heart.”

“Be at ease for now, we will deal with this issue later. And get you to a hair dresser as soon as possible,” he adds after a moment, teasingly pulls on a strand of Tony’s admittedly rather unruly hair. 

A cut hasn’t been on his mind for months, and he can’t help laughing–at T’Challa’s antics, the situation, everything. He doesn’t need to look up to know that this has been T’Challa’s intention from the start, simply squeezes his hand in silent appreciation.

They’ve got this. They really do.

[The confrontation with the rogue Avengers is as ugly as T’Challa has expected it to be. The only positive side of this is that Tony isn’t anywhere near to hear the commotion, T’Challa might have been forced to kill someone otherwise. As it is, there isn’t much to be said about it, in the end. His marriage isn’t a recent thing, it doesn’t change the actual situation. Not that you’d believe as much, if you listen to Clint Barton’s poisonous rant. At least Captain Rogers’ indignant rant is silenced with a sharp reminder that trust only reaches as far as it is extended.

“Your mind is your own, but any insult against my husband is an insult against myself. I suggest you keep that in mind!” has been the only warning T’Challa is willing to grant them. His patience isn’t limitless and certain guests have been testing those limits for some time now.]