#having a slight fever and cough so i wanted to draw something to soothe myself cries

[yookikiku]

speepydog

[acciotonystank]

Soft To Be Strong

Read on AO3

It started with a sore throat, as it always does. On a Wednesday, of all days. Peter didn’t exactly take much notice of it, which he may have done had it not been for the plethora of assignments that currently hung over his head. He just forced down a cup of ginger tea (nasty stuff) and hurried out of the apartment to catch the train to school.

It wasn’t until he was walking across the football field, a tickle in his throat, that Peter came to the realization that he hadn’t gotten sick since before the bite. For a while he’d thought that maybe he couldn’t get sick anymore, but he supposed that was out the window now. And when a cough forced its way from his throat, leaving him wincing slightly, all he could think about was the really inconvenient timing.

Trying to get work done with an irritated throat was one thing, but then the headache snuck up on him, developing into steady, faint throb by fifth period. He hoped desperately that this was going to be it - he couldn’t afford to take time off school right now - but he had a feeling more was coming.

Sure enough, the following morning, he woke to a faint ache throughout his body and kicked the blankets off himself to cool down a bit, despite the grey skies outside his window. When he staggered out into the kitchen to make himself breakfast, May raised her eyebrows at him.

“You don’t look so good, baby. You think you’re okay for school?”

Peter nodded his head, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible, “I’m fine, May. Just a bit of a cold. Besides, I really can’t miss class right now.”

“Alright,” she pressed her lips together. “But call me if you need anything. If it gets much worse, I might see if I can get out of the trip. It’s last minute, but I’m sure they can fill the spot.”

“No, no, don’t do that,” Peter hastily shook his head. “Really, May, I’m fine. I can take care of myself. Besides, I know you’re super excited about those seminars.”

“We’ll see. You’re going to the tower this afternoon, right? Maybe you can ask Tony if he can keep an eye on you.”

“May!” he whined, ducking away from her hand that reached to feel his forehead. “It’s just a cold! you don’t need to cancel the trip and you definitely don’t need to bring Mister Stark into this. That’s just embarrassing. He’s not my nanny.”

“You’ve got a point,” she agreed thoughtfully, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. “I’ll see about getting you a nanny then.”

“May.”

    “You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” Happy commented, ten minutes after picking the teenager up from school.

Peter let out a small chuckle, only to wince slightly at the pain in his throat. “I’ve just got a bit of a cold, but I’m fine.”

The man just gave him an unimpressed look. “Alright, but don’t go spreading that around. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” he sighed, leaning back.

When Peter walked into the lab, Mister Stark looked up at him with a smile, only to instantly narrow his eyes. And, look, to be honest, he was beginning to feel a bit offended at this point. Did he really look that bad? Without a word, the man just pulled a small bottle out of the draw beside him and threw it to Peter. Reading the label, he rolled his eyes, but squeezed some of the hand sanitiser into his palm and rubbed his hands together. He offered the bottle back to Mister Stark, but he shook his head.

“That’s yours now. You look like you’ll need it.”

“Ouch,” he frowned. “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

“No, but I know you and I know you always downplay everything so I’m just being cautious. Are you sure you wanna be here, kid? You’ll feel better sooner if you just rest.”

“Is this you trying to get rid of me?”

“No, Underoos,” Mister Stark rolled his eyes. “I just don’t want you working yourself to death.”

“I’m fine, Mister Stark, really,” Peter promised. “Besides, May’s a nurse, remember? I’m in good hands.”

“Okay, but I’m making you tea. Apparently lemon and ginger is great for colds.”

Peter groaned, letting his head drop onto his desk.

About two hours later, when Mister Stark brought him a fresh mug of tea, Peter gripped it tightly, holding it close to him for warmth, web shooters cast aside, forgotten about. The older man gave him a calculating look.

“Just twenty minutes ago you were taking off your jacket and now your all wrapped up again and practically cuddling that mug?” he asked suspiciously, reaching out a hand to feel Peter’s forehead. He went to dodge it, but something about that took too long to process, and suddenly the back of Mister Stark’s cold hand was pressed against his clammy forehead. “Okay, you’re done. FRI, what’s his temp?”

“Peter’s body temperature is currently one hundred point six degrees Fahrenheit.”

Mister Stark let out a sigh. “Alright, call his aunt, let her know he’s staying the night.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “What? No! Mister Stark, it’s not that bad, honest. It’s just a cold. I’ve got super-healing, remember? I’ll be fine. Besides, like I said, she’s a nurse, she’ll wanna be able to keep an eye on me. You’re a genius and all, but this is her area, anyway.”

In his defence, none of that was a lie, per se. Mister Stark didn’t need to know that May was leaving the next day for a three-day seminar interstate. If he did, Peter was sure that he would insist on keeping Peter in the tower, and he really didn’t want the man to have to deal with him with the flu. 

“Fine,” the billionaire conceded. "I’ll have Happy take you home. Then I’ll see about getting the lab thoroughly sanitised. And don’t even think about patrolling for the next few days.”

A sarcastic ‘yes, dad’ teetered on the tip of Peter’s tongue, before he realised what he was about to say and snapped his mouth shut and nodded. “Thanks, Mister Stark. Sorry for… contaminating the place.”

“Just take care of yourself, alright, Pete? Rest, stay hydrated… all that shit. And if your aunt gets sick of you, you’re welcome to come here.”

He doubted that would happen, but gave the man a dry smile anyway “Thanks.”

After dinner, Peter tried to get some work done. He really did. But when May had come in to check on him, only to find him asleep at his desk, clammy forehead sticking to his maths book, she forced him to go to bed, despite his protests. To be fair, he knew that he could barely get anything done in his state, but sitting in front of his work staring blankly at it somehow felt more productive than going to bed to rest. Although a substantial part of him felt too tired to shower, Peter felt quite gross and knew he’d regret it in the morning if he didn’t, so he reluctantly dragged himself into the shower, placing a hand on the tiled wall to hold himself up. He cleaned his teeth for what he estimated was somewhere between 20 and 30 seconds before he decided his teeth could wait but bed could not.

There were many words Peter could choose from to describe how he felt when he woke up the following morning. However, he decided that the most accurate and comprehensive word was ‘shit’. Though, if swear words weren’t allowed, then ‘deathy’ would suffice. He was pretty sure ‘deathy’ was not actually a word, but if ‘chillax’ is accepted by the Oxford English dictionary then surely it’d make its way in there eventually.

Despite Peter’s quite rigorous shivers, it felt like his whole body was damp with sweat. His throat felt like someone had shoved sandpaper down it, all his muscles felt achy and weak, and his nose felt stuffy too. He lifted his head up to look at the time, only to find that his skull suddenly seemed very heavy and flopped back down exhaustedly. He desperately wanted some water to soothe his throat, but moving was really tiring and he didn’t want to leave the warmth of his bed.

Fortunately, it was only a few minutes later that May knocked on his door. He let out some interpretive noise that she apparently understood correctly as a ‘come in’ and stopped suddenly in the doorway when she saw him.

“I don’t think I have to tell you this,” she began, “but you’re definitely not going to school today.”

She came back a few seconds later with some ibuprofen, a glass of water with a straw and a thermometer, not even saying a word before, handing him the pills, pushing the straw in front of his lips and then placing the thermometer under his tongue. 

“You’re at one hundred and two point five,” she muttered with a frown, shaking her head slightly. “I’m cancelling the trip, I’m not leaving you like this.”

“No, no, no,” Peter croaked. “I’m okay, May, I can look after myself. It’s just a slight fever.”

“It could get worse,” May argued gently, brushing his damp hair back. “I know you can look after yourself, hun, but I don’t want you to. What kind of parent would I be if I left you alone looking like this?”

Peter forced a playful grin. “Devilishly handsome?”

“Like shit,” she corrected bluntly, rolling her eyes at him. “It’s not a big deal, Peter,  there’ll be other opportunities like this.”

“I don’t want you to miss out because of me. I’ll be fine, honest. And if it does get worse, I’ll call Mister Stark.” He really hoped it didn’t get worse because he wasn’t planning on living up to that promise at all. “Besides, you’re meant to leave in a few hours, it’d definitely be too late to fill your spot now and it’d just be a waste. I’m not dying or anything, I’m just a bit sick, but I’ll start getting better soon and then you’ll have missed out for no reason.”

“Having peace of mind that you’re okay will never be a waste, Peter,” May said firmly.

“I’ll call you, then. I’ll call you every night and you can get updates and tell me what I should be doing and be reassured that I’m okay. How ‘bout that?”

The woman let out a sigh, looking conflicted. “Fine. But if I see fit, I’m coming back early, alright? And make sure Tony knows what’s going on just in case.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

      Peter was not doing well late that night. In his defence, he really thought he would be getting better by now. He had thought his healing factor would have kicked in by now and that he wouldn’t have gotten this sick in the first place. Instead, he seemed to be getting progressively worse, his temperature spikes growing more severe, his muscles growing achier, his breath growing shorter and his throat growing more painful. Not to mention the mucus he kept coughing up. His chest had started to hurt from all the coughing, and no amount of water relieved it. When May called him from her hotel room, he had to fight her again to stay, insisting he was fine and could take care of himself and that he sounded worse thane felt (a lie).

A day later, there was still no change, and Peter had hardly eaten a thing. This was for a number of reasons: 1) despite feeling hungry and knowing he needed to eat, he really didn’t feel like it. He was simultaneously ravenous and disgusted by the idea of eating and it was a very conflicting time. 2) just swallowing his own spit hurt his throat, swallowing fluids irritated it even more, he could only imagine how agoniizng trying to get anything more substantial than milk down. And 3) he highkey could not be bothered. Partly due to his perpetual weakness and exhaustion, but also because of the steady ache in his muscles that triggered protest whenever he tried to leave his bed.

So, no, he hadn’t showered since Thursday night, but he was the only one home and given the fact that he wasn’t leaving his bed, his stink would be confined to his bedroom.

Although he was expecting it, when his phone rang and May’s contact lit up the screen, he panicked a little.

“Hello,” he practiced to himself, shaking his head when it came out weak and croaky. He tried a couple more times to try and make his voice sound more normal, but to no avail. He just stared blankly at the ringing phone trying to figure out what to do until it stopped ringing, and his panic rose slightly. If he texted to say he was in the shower or in another room when she called, she would just call back again, but if he ignored it, he knew the woman would probably fret and assume he was dying. Mind you, it didn’t feel too far from the truth.

He needed to respond with something that would reassure her he was okay while also giving an excuse not to call her and not being suspicious as hell about it.

Peter

Hey May! I’m okay, but my voice is gone right now so I can’t actually talk.

May

I can come back, it’s really not a problem

Peter

I’m beginning to feel better, my voice is just really weak but I’m okay. There’s no point coming back now.

May

Alright but let me know if you need anything.

Peter really did hate lying to May, but he didn’t want her missing out on the seminars just because he was sick. Just as he was contemplating the effort of getting up to get another glass of water, his phone rang again, this time it was Mister Stark. He definitely didn’t want him to know how sick he was, because he knew the man would feel some kind of obligation to take care of him and he also didn’t want to be seen in this state - he was Spider-Man, after all. So he didn’t have to wait for it to ring out, Peter declined the call and started to write a text to explain why he couldn’t answer. He was just about to send it when a notification for a voicemail popped up.

“Kid, what the hell?” Mister Stark demanded. “I just got a call from your aunt asking me to check up on you because apparently you’re very unwell and she’s in fucking Michigan for work, which you conveniently failed to mention when you insisted she’d want to keep an eye on you. And she thinks you’re not being honest and now you fucking decline my call? So help me God, Peter Parker, if you don’t call me back in ten minutes I am flying over there in a suit and you will not like it.”

Peter cringed, and deleted the text he had been about to send.

Peter Sorry Mister Stark, I just didn’t want you to worry or feel like you had to take care of me or anything. I’m okay, but my voice is gone at the moment so that’s why I declined the call. Figured it’d freak you out if you tried to talk to me and just heard wheezing on the other end lol

Mister Stark I’m coming over.

Peter I’m fine, Mister Stark, I’m just resting and stuff. It’s late and I’m about to go to sleep anyway.

Mister Stark

If you want people to take you seriously when you say ‘I’m fine’ maybe you shouldn’t say it so often when you’re definitely not fine.

Peter ¯\_( ツ )_/¯

Mister Stark Stop using that thing to respond to everything. And fine but I’m coming over tomorrow. Call me if you need something before then though.

Peter Yea okay, I’ll cough in morse code if I still can’t talk

Mister Stark I’m serious kid

Peter So am I 😤

Mister Stark Bless you?

Peter Lmao that wasn’t a sneeze Mister Stark, it’s a huff of frustration

Mister Stark Whatever.

Peter Goodnight Mister Stark

Mister Stark Night kiddo. Sleep well.

    Peter had thought Saturday was bad, but come Sunday morning, he knew he wasn’t okay. He had been so confident that he would feel at least a bit better, but instead he woke up with the instinctual feeling that something was wrong. He wasn’t exactly sure why this feeling way only now, considering how he had hardly been in a decent state yesterday, but then his heart rate and breathing were even more erratic than yesterday, and the sharp pain in his chest was certainly knew.

He wondered vaguely if he had simply coughed so much that his lungs had been dislodged from their usual position. That would make sense. And look, Peter knew that shivering violently while simultaneously sweating was not a great sign, but by now, he had insisted he was fine so many times that now he’d be facing ‘I told you so’s if it turned that he was not, in fact, okay. Though, at this point, that wasn’t so much of a hypothetical as a fact.

He was not okay, and it was probably time he asked for help, especially considering the fact he hadn’t eaten in over twenty four hours or had a drink on about fourteen, which was very bad news for someone with his metabolism.

Peter fumbled for his phone, opening Mister Stark’s contact and pressing the call button.

It rang. And rang. And rang. And rang.

“You know who I am and you know what to do.”

Beep.

    “I just don’t think meetings should be allowed on Sundays - FRI, do not disturb - I mean, who wants to attend meetings on a Sunday? I certainly don’t.”

Pepper sighed exasperatedly. “As you’ve abundantly clear. Besides, some people have very schedules and don’t have another option.”

“Hey, I have a busy schedule,” Tony defended as the pair walked towards one of the conference rooms.

“Take time in the lab out of that.”

Tony paused. “It’s a bit less busy. But that’s besides the point! My lab time is very important, that’s where I give birth to my brainchildren.”

“Ugh, please never say that again. And I literally saw you and Peter setting up a blanket fort in there one time.”

“He’s a kid!”

“That’s fine, but the problem is you act like a kid too when you’re a grown man.”

“I mean… I never actually grew a whole lot.”

“Exhibit A,” Pepper scowled.

“Anyway, that kid has come down with something and his aunt is away for work so if we could wrap this up quickly so I can make sure he hasn’t sneezed himself unconscious, that would be great.”

“Come down with what? A cold?”

“Something like that. He had a bit of a fever when he came over on Thursday, maybe it’s the flu.”

“Poor thing,” she frowned.

“When I’m sick you always just tell me to woman up,” Tony grumbled.

“And yet...Mr Burgess, Miss Doyle, hi,” she greeted as they walked into the room, shooting Tony a pointed look.

He plastered on a fake smile as he offered his hand and hoped this would be over quickly.

    As it turned out, it was not over quickly. When the two finally left, Tony sighed heavily and slumped back in his seat.

“I do appreciate you being here,” Pepper acknowledged, giving him a small smile. “I know you hate these, so thank you for not making an excuse not to come. Anyway, I need to finish writing my speech for the benefit, but keep me updated on the kid.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make dinner tonight?”

Pepper glanced down at her watch and gave him a teasing grin. “It’s nearly noon, Tony, you’d better get started then.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but pressed a gently kiss to her lips before she left. He frowned when he checked his phone and saw he had a voicemail from Peter, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Mis-Mister Stark,” he rasped, and Tony’s heart seized. “I dont- I don’t feel well, something’s… wrong. Everything- I can’t-… hurts….”

God, he sounded miserable and the kid’s sniffled told him he was in tears. The message was from nearly two hours ago. Tony swallowed harshly, already jogging out the door, trying not to panic.

Something’s wrong, Peter had said, his tone desperate.

“FRIDAY, why wasn’t I alerted?” he demanded.

“Your current ‘Do Not Disturb’ protocol mutes all calls except those related to Avengers-level threats and emergencies.”

“From now on, all calls from Peter come through, no matter what.”

“Yes, Boss. Protocol amended.”

“Call him,” he ordered, getting into one of his cars.

Peter picked up on the third ring, his voice croaky, but relieved. “Mister Stark?”

“Kid, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I don’t feel so good, Mister Stark. I thought- I thought I’d be better by now but I just keep getting worse and I don’t feel right. Like obviously I feel like- like shit, but it’s like my spider sense is kicking up now and- I can’t explain it, but I’m scared Mister Stark." 

“I’ll be there soon, Pete. I’m on my way, okay?” I’ll take care of you. “We’ll take care of this. I’m gonna guess given your current state that you actually weren’t fine yesterday?”

“I didn’t wanna bother you,” Peter explained weakly.

“The only time you bother me is when you hide stuff form me out of fear of being a bother and in doing so, causing me to panic.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tony exhaled deeply, something in his chest uncoiling slightly. “C’mon, bud, we’ve talked about this. You need help, you ask for it, you’ll get it. You need to stop with the keeping everything to yourself because I always find out anyway and it just makes me worry.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated with a sniffle.

“What have you had to eat and drink today?” There was silence on the other end and Tony clenched his jaw. “You gotta at least drink something, kiddo. You need to stay hydrated.”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna ask you something and you need to be honest with me. Did you just say you lost your voice last night so you didn’t have to talk to me and inevitably have me realise that you clearly needed help?”

“In hindsight, that was really dumb,” Peter admitted with a weak laugh.

Tony took in a deep, calming breath. “I’m glad you called me when you did. Even if you don’t need help, it’s nice to have it when you’re sick. Just sit tight and I’ll be there soon, alright?”

While the drive was usually about half an hour, Tony made it in twenty minutes. He would have been calmer if Peter was just sick, but his mention of his spider sense had him on edge. When he arrived at the apartment building, he hurried up to Peter’s floor and knocked on their door.

“Pete? I’m here. Let me in, kid.”

A few moments and a few indistinguishable sounds later the door opened, revealing Peter standing there, gripping the doorknob tightly and swaying slightly. Tony had thought he’d known what to expect based on the teenager’s voice over the phone, but standing there in front of him, he realised it was even worse than he thought.

Peter’s face was sunken, flushed and clammy, heavy bags under his eyes. His lips were dry and cracked and his hair stuck to his sweaty face. He blinked slowly, as if trying to process who was standing in front of him, only to wobble slightly and begin to fall. Tony insanely reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder to hold him up, wincing at the heat radiating off his skin.

“Shit,” he muttered, having to use more of his strength as Peter just continued sinking lower and lower. He immediately fumbled for his phone. “Kid, c’mon, you gotta work with me here - FRI, what’s his temperature?”

“Peter’s body temperature is currently one hundred and six point nine degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Fuck!”

“He is in hyperpyrexia and medical attention should be sought urgently. In the meantime, it is recommended you try to lower his body temperature as soon as possible. I suggest you run a cool bath and apply a cool damp washcloth to his forehead.”

“Okay, okay. Call Bruce!”

Tony hooked an arm under Peter’s knees and carried him to the bathroom, placing him in the bath  still fully dressed and turning on the tap. The boy immediately protested, jerking in response to the cold water and deliriously trying to climb out.

“No, no, Pete, you need to stay, we gotta bring your fever down.”

“Tony? What’s going on?”

“Bruce!” Tony cried out in relief. “It’s the kid - he’s really sick, his temperature is through the roof, it’s at a hundred and six point nine. I’m- I’ve got him in the bath right - stay still, kid - in the bath right now but I don’t know what else to do.”

“First you gotta calm down, you can’t help him if you’re in a panic. Keep him in the bath for now, I’ll get a bed and a team set up ASAP. Get a suit ready so you can bring him straight to the tower on my signal.”

“Okay,” he breathed, nodding to himself and using his watch to summon suit before grabbing a wash cloth and holding Peter down so he could press it against his forehead.

“It’s s-s-so c-cold!” the teenager whined, writhing weakly, reaching a wet hand out and gripping the lapel of his suit jacket.

“It’s not, Underoos, you’re just super hot right now. That’s why I gotta do this.”

“I really am sorry,” he cried, tears forming in his eyes. “I’m sorry, can I p-please get out?”

He stared desperately at Tony, a pleading expression on his face. His eyes glistened in agony, his pupils boring into Tony’s and begging him to make it stop. Tony felt a painful tug at his heart, wanting nothing more than to take away his suffering and feeling utterly useless. While he knew , logically, that the cool bath was meant to help reduce his temperature, an instinctual part of him wanted to snatch the boy out of there and wrap him up. That same part of him sent chilling tidal waves of guilt that crashed angrily in his chest at the fact that he was the one who put Peter here, that he was forcing him to stay in the water that was making him so uncomfortable.

“This isn’t a punishment, Pete, Christ,” he whispered brokenly, finding it progressively harder to watch the boy’s struggle. "I’m only doing this because I have to, okay? The flu can be really dangerous, it can- it can- shit. I’m not mad at you, I promise. But you’re really hot and I know it doesn’t feel like but we’ve gotta cool you down. But Bruce is getting ready to treat you and when he’s ready we’ll get out of here, okay?”

Tony knew there would most likely be further unpleasant methods of reducing Peter’s body temperature, but he didn’t need to know the right now. He began scooping water up in his hands and pouring it gently over Peter’s head and running it through his hair, forcing himself to continue even when he flinched violently and tried to pull away.

“Peter, please, I need you to stop fighting me.”

The teenager stared at him through red-rimmed eyes for a moment before reluctantly nodding his head and weakly breathing out, “okay”. He screwed his eyes shut and tensed his body, only shaking slightly when Tony poured another lot of water onto his hair.

“Doctor Banner recommends that you depart for the tower now,” FRIDAY alerted him. “He will be ready by the time of your arrival.”

“Okay, kiddo, we’re done, how about that?” Tony breathed, helping Peter out of the bath. “I’m gonna get in the suit and fly you to the Medbay where Bruce will fix you, alright?”

Peter nodded weakly as the suit formed around Tony, and let himself be lifted up by his metal-encased arms. Only minutes later, he was stepping out of the suit in the medbay and handing him over to the medical team, who immediately intubated and ventilated him, as well as putting him on a drip.

He heard words like ‘hypoxia’, ’respiratory distress’ and ‘bronchoscopy’ and wondered how he could have possibly missed the kid’s lungs giving out. He had literally been about to leave to go to the kid’s apartment the previous night, but had decided against it when Peter insisted he was about to go to bed out of concern that he would be overbearing or hovering too much. He should have gone anyway just to check, he should have known Peter would be playing it down.

It didn’t matter how many safety measures he set up, Tony would always be worried about Peter getting hurt as Spider-Man. He had imagined every dangerous scenario he could think of, fretted over the many ways Peter could end up severely injured or dead from patrol. Out of all the risks he faced on a day-to-day basis, he had never considered this, never thought that the fucking flu might be what killed him.

“Tony."

The man glanced up as Bruce approached.

“I think I know what’s going on-“

“You ‘think’?” Tony snapped, his face crumpling in guilt seconds after the words left his mouth. “Sorry.”

The doctor just shook his head dismissively. “Most flu-related deaths-“ Tony flinched. “-aren’t caused by the actual influenza virus, rather a secondary infection - usually pneumonia - or an overreaction from the immune system. Usually white blood cells and antibodies are sent out to eliminate the threat and T cells destroy the affected tissue, which is predominantly in the respiratory tract and lungs. However, sometimes the response can be too strong and damage too much tissue, restricting the amount oxygen delivered to the blood, which… given Peter’s accelerated healing-“

“So, basically his body is destroying itself,” he interrupted weakly.

“Essentially,” Bruce nodded. “The bronchoscopy will show the extent of the damage, and if that is the case, then we can put him on ECMO, which basically improves the gas exchange, preventing further hypoxia and organ damage, allowing the lungs to begin to heal. We’ve also got him on antibiotics, ibuprofen and an IV, so once his fever breaks and his body realises it can stop attacking itself, it can work to repair the damage. He’s going to be okay, Tony.”

Tony let out a breath of relief. “You know, you could’ve started with that.”

“Maybe,” he agreed with a small smile. “But then you wouldn’t have listened to anything I said and then ask questions and then I’d just have to repeat everything I said.”

“Sorry, what did you just say? I wasn’t listening.”

    Tony stirred awake from his position beside Peter’s bed when some kind of shuffling noise disturbed his sleep. He blinked slowly, sitting up straighter when he realised the source of the noise was Peter, writing something down on a notepad, restricted slightly by the ventilator. Seeing that the man was awake, Peter tore off the sheet and handed it to him.

This is getting repetitive.

A scoff passed through his lips. “Then stop almost dying."

Peter’s small grin faded, a frown forming gnosis face before he started scrawling something down again.

I’m sorry for lying to you. That was super dumb.

“Kid, you never have to worry about bothering me, okay? I just want you safe and happy, and this whole ‘lying so that you don’t annoy me’ bullshit needs to stop. I can’t help you if you don’t let me, and when I can’t help you, it stresses me out. And for God’s sake, stop saying ‘I’m fine’ when you’re very not fine.”

Peter nodded solemnly before beginning to write again. Did you end up sanitising the lab?

“Yup. Glad I did too. I’m a total wuss when I’m sick.”

Yeah, I bet.

Tony scowled meanwhile Peter grinned, shoulder shaking slightly with laughter. “Don’t test me, Underoos, or I’ll sell your Spider-Man suit on Amazon.”

    Four days later, after being gradually tapered off oxygen support until Bruce declared his lungs to be sufficiently healed, Peter was on his feet, back to his usual restless, bubbly nature. Naturally, May had been less than pleased to find out Peter had been struggling so much and refusing to ask for help, and even more so when she realised how severe the situation had been. To Peter’s credit, the kid had taken the scolding in his stride and acknowledged his mistakes, promising to not let anything like it happen again.

Tony made that same promise to himself.

Which is why, when Peter sneezed in the lab three weeks later, he may have overreacted. The teenager didn’t seem to think anything of it, but then Tony was shoving a box of tissues and a mug of tea in front of him and his eyes widened.

“I’m not sick, it was just a sneeze, I’m honestly-“

“FRIDAY, give me his body temperature.” 

“Mister Stark!” 

“Peter’s body temperature is currently at ninety-eight point five degrees Fahrenheit, sir.” 

“See, I’m fine! No fever.” 

Tony stared at him through slightly narrowed eyes. “Maybe I should get Bruce, just in case.”

“No! I do not need Bruce Banner checking on me for a freaking sneeze!” 

“FRI, call Bruce.” 

Peter let out a helpless whine, letting his head fall onto the desk with a thud. 

“Great, now he’s gotta check for head injury, too.” 

“Mister Stark!”  

[afterfanfic]

Herophine Imagine

Here’s the rest of the little snippet I posted last night, I hope everyone likes it! Feel free to request any scenarios you’d like to see me write, nothing’s off limits ;) The song I listened to to inspire this piece was Bad Intentions by Niykki Heaton, give it a listen to get in the mood! 

“And CUT!” I hear Anna call from behind the camera for what seems like the 100th time for this take. We’ve been shooting the infamous Seattle seen for After We Collided, and I must’ve said the words, “Fuck me or leave,” more times than I can count. As I move to get off of Hero’s lap Anna calls, “No Jo, just stay. We’re just going to shoot one more time with a close-up in a minute.”

I roll my eyes and smirk at Hero as I straddle his lap, “Am I doing something wrong? Do I not sound sexy?” I know this scene is integral, but at this point it feels quite ridiculous to keep trying.

He scratches his neck and shows his dimples, “I think you sound fine,” he replies without meeting my eyes.

“Okay, here we go again, places my babies!” Anna calls again and I adjust my hips to the right position. “Action!”

I grab Hero’s face between my hands and deliver my most important line with all the sex appeal I can manage, “Fuck me,” I peek from under my lashes and maintain eye contact with those green eyes, “or leave.” Hero genuinely looks stunned as his eyes dart to my mouth and back up to meet my gaze, I can feel his reaction underneath me. It’s just biology, it’s natural to get turned on when any woman is sitting on your lap. It’s part of the profession to be mature about the matter to capture the moment. As I wait for him to return with his line I’m only met with silence. I hear a cough from behind the camera that propels Hero back to reality. With a shake of his head and a muttered, “I’m sorry,” under his breath he removes me from his lap and storms away to his trailer. The cast and crew are silent as he walks away, and before Anna or Roger can say anything I interject, “I’ll check on him.” I hear Roger call for everyone to take an hour break for lunch as I leave.

 I pull down the tight gold dress further down my thighs as I walk over to Hero’s trailer, conveniently located right next to mine. After I knock, I hear an exasperated, “I’ll be right out! Just give me five minutes!”

“Hero, it’s me,” I call through the door. I immediately hear footsteps before the trailer door opens. Hero stands in his traditional Harden-garb: black t-shirt, black jeans, black converse, with the faux tattoos littered along his arms. I can tell he’s been running his fingers through his hair, one thing I’ve definitely noticed Hero and Harden have in common. It’s quite endearing, how much he tries to say he is unlike Harden when he acts just like him in some ways. He doesn’t say a word, just walks back into his trailer and leaves the door open for me to enter. I follow inside and shut the door behind me. He takes a seat on the couch as I remain standing. “So, are you gonna tell me what just happened out there?” I cross my arms, determined to leave this trailer with an answer for his outburst.

He looks up at me, “I.. I, uh, I think you know,” his eyes shift downwards in a shameful manner, which only adds to my confusion.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Absolutely not. I did,” he replies, disgust for himself laced in his tone. What could he possibly be talking about? I am completely perplexed by his reaction, he must see this on my face since he continues, “I can’t even control my stupid fucking hormones for one scene. What kind of an actor am I? Letting my feelings interfere with my work… I’m not cut out for this shit,” his tone is depressingly resigned. He’s talking about getting an erection while I sat on his lap? That’s nothing to be ashamed of, like I said, it’s human nature. Wait.. did he say feelings? We’ll deal with that later.

“Hey,” I move to sit next to him on the couch and turn his head to face me. “Do not feel bad for having a normal biological reaction!” He shakes his head from my grasp and looks back to the floor, he’s so shy when it comes to me, yet so caring and gentle in his tone when speaking with me. I’ve absolutely adored getting to know him over the past year and a half, we’ve grown so close as friends and co-stars, dedicated to bringing Anna’s dream to life.

“I’m sorry, Jo,” he turns to actually face me, “I’ve just been so in my head this whole scene. I’m clearly the reason we’ve had to run it a million times.” As I look into his sea green stare, I can feel my resolve slipping. I’ve been attracted to Hero since the first time I laid eyes on his tall figure, and I can’t deny the natural chemistry that has bloomed between us since we’ve grown closer.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask, as coyly as I possibly can. Hero gives me a slight nod to continue. I take a deep breath and admit what I’ve been feeling this whole shoot, “I quite like when I can feel you during these scenes,” I breathe as I move closer to him on the couch.

“Y-You do?” I can see the disbelief in his eyes as I move to straddle him on the couch. I can’t believe this is happening, but I don’t want to stop it now.

“Do you want to know something else?” I whisper into his ear. He answers with a dreamy sigh as I grab his hand from the arm of the couch and move it beneath my dress. His look is bewildered, yet primal in pure lust. “This is what you do to me during those scenes.” As I drag his two fingers through my wetness, I can’t help but release a moan. His pupils are completely dilated as I bring his fingers to my mouth and lick my moisture from them as if it were something else. His mouth is agape with his plump lips as he gasps at my actions. I’ve never felt so sexually fevered, but something about him brings out my inner vixen.

“You’re really not wearing panties,” he asks, a beautiful smirk highlighting the dimples on his face.

“What can I say? I like to stay in character,” I shrug and we both laugh, easing into our comfortability with each other. I lean my forehead against his as I take in his perfect features. I can tell he’s unsure whether he should make the first move or not, so I take the chance and latch my lips onto his. While I’ve kissed him plenty of times during shooting, this is different. This is not Tessa and Hardin. This is Hero and Josephine. He’s tentative as his lips follow mine, and I’m the one to initiate it further by biting his bottom lip and soothing the sting with my tongue.

“Fuck, Jo,” he whispers before capturing my mouth in his. His tongue dances with mine in sync as my hands find his hair and his hands venture to my hip and the back of my neck, holding me to him. He gains confidence as our mouths battle for dominance, and my hands wander underneath his shirt, tugging to indicate that I’d like for it to be off. Our lips part momentarily as he yanks the black tee over his head and tosses it aside and my hands immediately find his bare skin. I lightly draw my fingertips up and down his abdomen, reveling in the feeling of his smooth, warm skin underneath me. Hero’s lips move from my mouth to my jaw, slowly making their way down to my neck as he sucks and licks my sensitive skin.

“Hero,” I moan as my hands lace through his hair. The feeling of his lips on my skin mixed with his tight grip on my hips is driving me insane. I yank his head back up and give him a quick peck before delving into my own assault down his defined jawline. He can’t hold back his groans as I rock myself back and forth on top of him, desperate for some relief for the fire burning inside me. Feeling empowered I pull back and look into his eyes, “What do you think your manager would say if I marked you, huh?” I tease before placing another sloppy kiss along his neck. I feel shivers running through his body as I continue my taunting, “Made you mine, made sure everyone at your little Dior show knew you were taken?” I don’t give him time to reply before latching my lips to the side of his neck, biting and sucking, feeling the bruise forming. I am drunk on this sexual power I feel. When I pull back to give Hero a playful smirk, his expression has turned dark and lustful. I’ve never seen him like this and I can feel the effect as I clench in pleasure. We just stare at each other for a minute, our heavy breathing the only sound in the trailer before he takes control and his lips find mine again in a frenzied, sloppy, hot kiss.

His hands move underneath my dress, massaging the sides of my thighs as he pushes it up further, silently asking for permission to remove it. I pull back only for a second and rip the gold material from my body. In my haste, I forgot that the dress didn’t allow for a bra either, meaning I am now stark-naked straddling Hero Fiennes-Tiffin in his trailer. Holy shit. His eyes move from my face slowly taking in my form, lingering on my chest as he licks and bites his lower lip the way he always does. “You are so fucking beautiful, Josephine,” he all but whispers as his large hands reach out to cup my breasts, kneading and pinching my hardened nipples. I moan as I throw my head back in pleasure, the sensation of his hands now mixing with his mouth as he takes my left nipple into his mouth, sucking and lightly biting in the most erotic way. I’m pretty much dry humping him now, realizing I need to feel him, all of him, as soon as possible.

“Your pants,” I huff, “Off. Now.” I manage to get the words out between moans. He releases his hold and I get off of his lap to allow him to disrobe. His hands are shaky as they find the button and zipper before shimmying his hips to pull them down. “Boxers, too,” I command as he smirks and pulls the black boxer briefs down too. His sitting position on the couch is making this process take far too long for my liking, so I reach out and grab his pants and boxers and finish pulling them all of the way off. After throwing his clothes to the side I finally manage to come back to the moment and see him, all of him. “Fuck, I knew you were hung,” I clearly don’t have a brain to mouth filter when my head is this clouded with the image of a naked Hero sitting in front of me.

“Hung?” he replies, humor laced in his tone and an amused grin on his face. We both break into laughter again, easing my nerves, as he holds his hand out to me to join him again. “Come here, baby,” he beckons, and I waste no time climbing back onto his lap. “Are you,” he begins before I cut him off.

“Birth control… yes,” I finish his thought. He chuckles at my impatience before kissing me sweetly, slowly, tenderly. My comments must have given his ego a boost as he becomes more confident in himself. He grasps the base of his cock before lifting me off his lap, allowing me to hover over his length.

“Mmm, you’re so fucking wet for me, Jo,” he sighs, moving the head of his cock through my folds, teasing my entrance and clit in the best way. Something about his voice and words ignites feelings in me I didn’t know were possible. On the next pass, I slowly sink onto him, just an inch, before sitting back up. I repeat this motion three more times while staring into his piercing gaze before taking him fully.

“So good,” I murmur as I feel him inside my stomach, filling me so completely and deeply. As I begin to move up and down, at a torturously slow pace, I join him in looking down to where our bodies meet, my moisture leaving a slick residue at his base. It’s mesmerizing. I roll my hips, feeling him hit every spot deep inside me as our mouths meet again. I swallow his moans as I move faster. Hero grabs my hips and lifts me slightly as he begins to thrust to meet my movements. I’m well aware that I’m mewling like a kitten, but he seems to enjoy my noises as his hips pick up the pace. The trailer is filled with the sound of our skin slapping together and our collective heavy breathing, kissing, and moaning. We’re both slick with sweat as he moves his mouth down my neck and collarbone. “Hero,” I moan from deep in my chest as we continue moving as one.

“Again,” he coos from below me, my hands laced in his hair. “Say my name again, please,” he breathes before latching back onto my neck.

“Hero,” I moan even louder, prompting his hips to move faster and thrust harder. His mouth moves back to mind as his hand snakes between our bodies, quickly finding my sensitive clit. His middle finger rubs in circles, igniting the fluttering deep in the pit of my stomach.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me?” his voice is hoarse, his lips swollen from my attack, and his finger moves faster. I nod my head, not able to find my voice to give a coherent answer. “Come for me, Josephine,” Hero whispers and I let go, orgasming harder than I ever have before.

Still reeling from my high, my eyes meet his. “Come inside me, Hero. Make me yours, please,” I don’t even recognize my voice, completely sated and seductive. Within three thrusts I feel his warm release filling me. He buries his face in my neck as his cock pulses inside of me. After both coming back to earth, we pull back slightly and I lean my forehead against his. “That was,” I begin, not even knowing the correct word to use in this moment.

“Yeah,” he agrees, kissing me softly on the lips. As our breathing returns to normal it hits me. What have I just done? 

[ilcuoreardendo-fic]

Hey moddy how bout a vaderwan fic where Obi-Wan is an omega and Anakin is an Alpha

This went Obikin instead of Vaderwan.  But I’m sure I’ll have some Vaderwan in the same vein at some point. (If I can get Acquisition finished off, I won’t feel like I’m repeating myself by jumping to some other Vaderwan stuff.)

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Obi-Wan recognizes the signs of heat as soon as they start.Though they’d happened only once before in his life, they were hard to forget.That was the day his world took a turn and the latent gene that had once helpedensure humanity’s continued existence switched on and he found himself longingto curl up in his master’s lap. He had thought puberty had been bad. By thetime Obi-Wan came to Qui-Gon, he was too far gone into his heat for thesuppressant medications to work and had to suffer through the fever of hisskin, the arousal that flooded through his veins, the bone deep ache forsomething he couldn’t place.

He’d vowed that he wouldn’t be caught unawares again, andbegan keeping two sets of medications on his belt so he could hide one in whateverquarters they were given or, if the mission called for mobility, in whatevertransport they were assigned.

Of course, when you’ve been abducted and lost your utilitybelt and had your transport blow up, that puts you in a rather tight spot, evenafter the rescue comes.  

Which is why Obi-Wan is currently Force locked inside sparsequarters on the Resolute, trying and failing to meditate. The problem isn’t him.Or it isn’t only him. It’s the presence of his former padawan standing outsidethe door, as he has been for the last hour. Obi-Wan can feel Anakin’s frustration, his agitation and beneath it, asimmering arousal.

A handful of years prior to his Knighting, Anakin had cometo Obi-Wan complaining that he didn’t feel well, but it was nothing more than aslight fever and general malaise, so Obi-Wan sent him off to classes. It wasn’tuntil Obi-Wan arrived at the healers to collect Anakin after he’d gotten into a brawl with another padawan that the problem was revealed. Anakin hadpresented as an alpha. A more common occurrence than Obi-Wan’s ownpresentation, though still relatively rare.

Obi-Wan became extra vigilant about his suppressants.

He managed to keep his secret from Anakin for five years.

Anakin had just walked into the war room when Obi-Wan feltthe faint tingling deep in his belly, the tightening of his skin. He finishedhis report with Admiral Yularen and attempted to slip from the room withoutalerting Anakin.

As he neared the door, Obi-Wan watched Anakin’s spinestiffen, pulling the man to his full height. His head turned so quickly Obi-Wanwas sure it was going to wrench off his neck.

A wealth of emotions flooded Anakin’s eyes: disbelief, joy,anger, need, betrayal, want. The wantObi-Wan had been aware of for years. Once upon a time, he’d thought SenatorAmidala would become the focus of Anakin’s attention, but his former padawanhad made his attractions quite clear.

Obi-Wan tried to ignore them.

As Anakin turned toward him, Obi-Wan threwdignity aside and fled. But he knew Anakin would follow. He felt the hot pulseof possessiveness along the remains of their training bond, just as he rushedinto his temporary quarters and engaged the locks on the door, shoring them upwith a little help from the Force.

And now here he stands, or sits, rather. On the edge of thebed, arms looped around his waist, listening to Anakin prowl outside his doorlike a Hrosma tiger. Obi-Wan rests his face in his hands.

“Master.” Anakin stops pacing and takes a breath.  

“No.” Obi-Wan’s voice is slightly muffled.

“Let me in.” Anakin holds his palms against the door. He canoverride it. If he needs to. But he’d rather Obi-Wan let him in. Still… Hepulls the cover off the lock panel.

“I will not.” Clearer now. Obi-Wan’s moving closer to thedoor.

“Obi-Wan.”

“Anakin…this isnot the kind of thing I want to share.”

“But it’s exactly the thing you need to share.” Anakin presses his face against the door. Oh. Anakin can smell him: familiar soap,black tea and spiced honey, and a warm musk that makes Anakin’s throat tighten.“Obi-Wan…I can help.”

Obi-Wan makes a half-sputtered choking noise that resemblesa laugh. “The last thing I need is…help.”

“I’m sure you’ve done this alone, Obi-Wan. You know you can. But youdon’t have to. Look…how perfect is it that the two of us werebrought together? How completely unlikely it is for an alpha and an omega tomeet, let alone know each other as well as we do?”

“Anakin, you didn’t even know I had a designation untilnow.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re rare, Obi-Wan. And you, you’reeven rarer. I can’t help but think—No.I know the Force brought us together.”

“The Force or Qui-Gon Jinn,” Obi-Wan mutters.

“Force.” Anakin lets his head fall against the door with asoft thud. “Do I need to tell you how good you smell to me? How much I want totouch you, taste you? Feel you over me, under me, all around me. Obi-Wan?”

There’s a muffled sound behind the door, half sigh.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakinsays. Then, “Please. Please let mein. I won’t… You know how I feel. I know you know. I’m not exactly subtle. Iwant you. I’ve always wanted you. And I think… I think you want me too. And Iwish—” He sighs. “I wish you’d just let yourself have something you want. Andput us both out of our karking misery.” Anakin laughs shakily. “If you’re in heat andI’m in a rut, who’s going to be lead the charge against Ventress?”

The silence is heavy, expectant. Then Anakin hears the lockdisengage.

Obi-Wan stands in front of the door, barely realizing he’smoved. He can feel Anakin on the other side. Can smell him. Warm spice and thefaintest hint of mech oil. Obi-Wan could bury his face in that scent. Press hismouth against Anakin’s throat, run his tongue along his clavicle, bare his ownthroat for Anakin—

Obi-Wan shivers.

“Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s voice is a low rumble and Obi-Wan’sbelly clenches, warmth spreading down between his thighs, making his cocktwitch. He feels himself grow slick, the sensation still strange but not nearlyas unpleasant now that Obi-Wan may actually have a use for it.

“Please…” Anakinsays.

And moments later, Anakin’s words – they couldn’t bothafford to be compromised and Obi-Wan did want– had him disengaging the lock and opening the door.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin says, voice rough with surprise, witharousal.

“You’re right,”Obi-Wan says, voice steady over his shuddering breath. He can’t quite meetAnakin’s eyes, looks somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear. “I—“ He cutshimself off, frowns.

Then Anakin’s there, slipping into his personal space aseasily as he always has, closing the door behind him. “It’s okay. You don’tneed to explain. Just…tell me this is okay.” Anakin’s hands cup the back ofObi-Wan’s head, fingers tangling in Obi-Wan’s hair and tilting his head back.Anakin’s eyes are on his mouth.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, watching the way Anakin’s eyes light upand then grow dark as he leans forward and kisses Obi-Wan soundly.

The kiss is the opening of a floodgate and Obi-Wan losestrack of time and action. The next moment, he’s naked, on his borrowed bed,with Anakin lying before him, shirtless, still in his boots with his trouserspushed partway down his hips to reveal a thick erection.

“I need to fuck you,” Anakin rasps.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. It’s the only word he can seem to sayright now.

Anakin pulls Obi-Wan astride him, tugging off his tunic,pulling his trousers down and arranging him as if he were little more than aliving doll. He draws long fingers over his hip and along his ass, one fingersliding into the crevice and over his slick opening, then slowly inside.

“Oh Force,” the words are barely a whisper, “you’re so readyfor me,” Anakin says.

Those words send a pulse of heat through Obi-Wan evenas Anakin gathers him close, grips his hips and steadily pushes into him untilObi-Wan’s firmly seated on his lap staring down at Anakin in surprise. He wouldbe lying if he said he hadn’t expected to be rolled onto his belly as Anakin buried histeeth in the back of his neck.

“Later,” Anakin groans, shifting and setting a pace that ohso quickly drives them toward climax.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen as Anakin presses deeper into him,swelling until all Obi-Wan can focus on is the fullness of his body, therhythmic pulses of Anakin coming deep inside him and the rush of orgasm boththe thought and feeling triggers. Obi-Wan’s muscles clamp down around Anakin, amating drive from long ago, pushing his body to do what it…actually isn’tdesigned for anymore.

He doesn’t even need to touch himself. The orgasm tearsthrough him, leaving him breathless, grasping at Anakin’s slick shoulders. Andthe mess he leaves across Anakin’s belly and chest is enough to make Anakingroan and grip his hips as he releases inside Obi-Wan once again.

“I never…” Anakin coughs. “I never imagined what this couldfeel like.” He eyes Obi-Wan. “Come here.”

Obi-Wan allows himself be pulled close, head bent to restagainst Anakin’s clavicle. He relaxes under the soothing strokes to his back,his hair, his temple.

Anakin will stay locked inside him for some time. Upwards ofhalf an hour, even. Or, that’s what the articles say. It’s the strangestfeeling for Obi-Wan to lie there, on top of his former padawan, and to feel thesudden pulse and blossom of warmth between his legs, the wetness seeping outaround where he and Anakin are joined when he’s too full to handle anymore.

By the time Anakin is able to slip out of him, Obi-Wan isaroused again. Not the desperate drive to mate of earlier, but his normal, veryhuman arousal.

Anakin looks Obi-Wan in the eye and grins before pushing himonto his back and settling between his thighs, draping Obi-Wan’s legs over hisshoulders and taking his cock into his mouth before Obi-Wan can register theidea.

Anakin’s mouth is hot and lush and just the right amount oftight around the sensitive tip and it feels like mere moments before he’scoming again, tangling his fingers in Anakin’s hair as his back bows and theworld around him vanishes.

Moments later, he feels a gentle kiss against his hip and thenAnakin is sliding up next to him, pulling him into his arms. For a momenteverything is safe and warm and right.And that’s all he needs for his tired body to give in to the exhaustion that’sbeen pulling at him since well before he was rescued.

When Obi-Wan wakes again, minutes or hours later, the heatis burning through his belly. This time, Anakin, waking mere moments afterObi-Wan opens his eyes, puts him on his belly, pushes his legs together andfucks him slow and deep until Obi-Wan comes, pressed tight to the mattress andshuddering as his own semen soaks the sheets around him.

That feeling feeds through to Anakin who groans, bitesObi-Wan’s neck and comes, pushing so deep into Obi-Wan that he can’t help thescreaming sob that comes out of his throat as Anakin swells inside him.

“If you could become pregnant,” Anakin says in Obi-Wan’s ear“I think this is the one that would’ve done it.” And it’s such an Anakin thing to say that Obi-Wan letshis head fall the mattress in a useless attempt to hide his laughter

“O-Obi-Wan,” Anakin says and thrusts hard enough to makeObi-Wan gasp and quiet as he feels Anakin twitch hard and himself grow wetter.“I don’t think now’s the time to laugh at me. You’re going to be enough of amess as it is. You were still so slick and open from earlier,” he finishes,warm breath teasing across Obi-Wan’s ear.

“Force,” Obi-Wanmutters, or tires to mutter. It comes out as more of a croak.

“How long do you think the heat will last?” Anakin lays histemple against the back of Obi-Wan’s head.

“Ah. Literature gives a range, but a standard day or so seems…probable.”

“Meaning you don’t know?”

“…No.”

Anakin snickers against his hair, warm breath makingObi-Wan’s scalp tingle.  “That’s fine. Iwant you to myself for at least two more days.”

Obi-Wan hums and tries to shift his legs to a morecomfortable angle, the weight of Anakin and Anakin’s trousers, amazingly, still downaround his knees making it physically impossible. “At least that will give ustime to get you out of the rest of your clothes.”