#help a gall out and watch me yell about superheroes

[thefloatingstone]

Part 2 of my "My Adventures with Superman" Breakdown is now live!

This is the one where Lois does the thing.

Part 1

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

07.

look, i know i’m an asshole but at least i’m trying

“Look at that, isn’t he amazing?” the blond boy yells, pointing at the TV on display, showing one of those heroes in work.

“Uwah, All Might’s so cool!”

(E/c) eyes followed the boys’ gazes, watching a big hulking figure power through villains.

She could only nod, half-heartedly, keeping her eyes on the screen, listening to the two boys go on about how amazing he was.

Booming laughter sounded off from the screen, the two boys anticipating as the hero turned to the camera. “I am here!”

And then, the boys went wild – gesticulating wildly, words of admiration leaving their lips, eyes twinkling with amazement. Honestly, it was easy to like someone as big and prominent as All Might.

But in a world ruled by quirks, and your perception of them tainted at an early age, it was difficult to really set yourself on where you stood.

“Isn’t he the coolest, (Nickname?)” green eyes turned to the (h/c) girl.

“Uh, yeah…” came the girl’s reply, rather dull and lacking in the same energy as the two boys.

“That was a weak reply, (Name)!” the blond boy turned to her, a bit offended. “You should be crying out like me and Deku! All Might’s the coolest!”

Chancing a look at the said hero on screen, she shrugged, unsure how to reply to that. “I mean, I guess he is.”

Both boys froze at their friend’s lack of admiration for their favorite hero.

“Sorry I’m not like you guys.”

“T-That’s okay, (Nickname).” The green-haired boy says, voice shaky and his eyes sheen with tears he’s fighting off, smiling warmly at her.

“Hey, that doesn’t mean I don’t like him, though. He’s just not my favorite hero.”

The blond boy’s carmine eyes widen at that, the three kids began to walk home together once the show was over.

“Then, who is your favorite?”

“Hm…I guess I prefer the quiet heroes, I guess?” she nods, mind thinking of policemen, teachers, cooks, train staff, and fishermen. “Ones that don’t really stand out but are cooler in other ways.”

“Ah, there’s this one hero I heard about from Kyoto!” Izuku tells her. “He has a healing quirk, but he’s also really good at martial arts and carries a cool staff with him.”

“That’s Merlin!” the girl gushes excitedly, her walking having a bit of a jump. “The Wandering Hero: Merlin! He’s so cool! I think my grandpa mentioned him before, having trained in our dojo when he was still in training. Ma says he was the prettiest looking man next to Pa. And Pa says his quirk’s extra cool if you get to see it in person!”

(E/c) eyes sparkled the more she gushed about this hero of hers, one he’s never heard of because of his rather elusive nature as a hero.

“That sounds amazing, (Nickname)! I wish my family could have known All Might as well!” the green-haired boy’s tiny fists shook with excitement, sharing her enthusiasm.

“Tch, All Might’s still better. Just wait ‘til I become a hero, (Name)…” muttered the blond, hands in his pockets. “Then you’ll see that I’m definitely the best outta the rest.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, looking at her friend in disbelief. Then mischief.

Getting behind him, she kicks the backs of his knees, causing him to topple to the ground face first.

“Ah, Kacchan!”

“What the hell was that for, (Name)!?”

“That was so lame of you, Katsuki!” laughed the girl, sticking her tongue out as she grabbed the green-haired boy’s hand and proceeded to run ahead of him.

Angered the boy rushes to his knees, cheeks definitely not flushed, and gives the two a chase. “HAH!? WHO’RE YOU CALLING LAME!?”

Three little kids ran down the streets, laughing in their wake.

Traditions in Japan were rather a thing that made the country quite known to the outside world, as many adhered to certain types of customs.

And as per family tradition, certain family never fails to hand over ochugen gifts to the people in your lives.

A (h/c) girl was headed off to the Bakugou’s first, a box full of fresh harvest from her grandpa’s garden. Coincidentally, it also happened to be Izuku’s birthday and she got him special tickets to that superhero exhibit. To commemorate, she had even worn an All Might shirt!

Reaching the Bakugou’s, she put down the Midoriya’s box, before reaching for the doorbell. Someone yelled inside, followed by explosive remarks, which was something she’s rather used to.

Patiently waiting, she felt a buzz, taking her phone out of her shorts pocket, smiling when she saw a text from the birthday boy, feeling the excitement through his text.

The door clicked open, her smile still in place as she furiously texted Izuku back. As she pressed reply, she then pocketed her phone and readily met a pair of carmine eyes.

Except, the owner of said eyes came from the last person she cared for, smile flattening.

For a second there was surprise in his features, softening slightly as his usual scowl set in. His eyes took in her form, the box, then at the ridiculous shirt she had on. “What the fuck are you wear-“

Behind him, a voice called out. “(Name)-chan!”

It was Auntie Mitsuki.

Smile finding its way back, a rather polite one at that, the teen greeted her back. “Hiya, Auntie!”

Shouldering her son aside, receiving a snarky reply she didn���t bother with, the Bakugou matriarch’s eyes shined at the sight of the young teen. “Look at you, growing up so fast to be this cute!” unable to help herself, she reached over to pinch the younger girl’s cheeks before swallowing her into her arms for a hug. Releasing the girl, her carmine eyes then focused and shined at the items in her hand. “Ah, Shihan really has the neatest harvest every summer, thanks for these!”

“We most graciously bestow our gratitude to you, oh great Bakugou Mitsuki!” the teen implored, rather dramatically, earning a laugh between the two, like a running gag.

Bakugou could only watch, quite amazed at their relationship.

“Oi brat, get this will ya?” snapped his mother over her shoulder.

“Don’t tell me what to do, hag!” screamed the blond back, carefully taking the box from her hands.

Their eyes met briefly before she easily slid them away to focus on his mom, an instantaneous reaction.

“You seem dolled up, (Name)-chan. Got a date?”

Humming, she tilted her head to the side. “You could say that,” at that, Bakugou nearly stumbled in his step but she didn’t notice. “it’s Izuku’s birthday today and I’m just having a birthday date with him in a while!”

At the mentioned of Deku, Bakugou froze in his step, looking over his shoulder to take in her attire once more – a gaudy All Might shirt tucked into some simple denim shorts, then some sneakers.

“Aw, ain’t that cute. Oi, Katsuki, why aren’t you with them!?”

Caught, he burst out a reply. “HAH? Why the hell would I spend time with those extras?” his words got the best of him before he could control himself, her brows knitting together, pain flashing through (e/c) eyes for a quick second. He instantly regretted opening his stupid mouth.

“Anyways," he couldn't help notice the slight strain in her voice, feeling his heart drop "I just came to drop by our ochugen gifts. Thank you again for all your help, Auntie.” Grabbing the Midoriya’s gift box from the ground, the teen worked on a smile. “Please tell Uncle Masaru I said hi!” And with that, she was gone.

Both blonds watch the young girl walk away before the door closed. Without a word, Mitsuki walked back in, giving a quick smack to her son’s head before disappearing into the kitchen.

Her hit was rather soft, reprimanding.

Something unpleasant filled his gut as he dropped the gift box on the dining room table and headed off to his room, pained (e/c) eyes haunting him.

You always hurt the ones you love.

Does it feel weird to feel close to someone you haven’t spoken to in years? That there’s always been this sort of connection between the two of you that instantly links you together even after days, months, years of zero contact?

Well, that’s how Bakugou Katsuki feels towards Yuroichi (Name).

Ever since they were kids and he was introduced to (Name), she was all he cared about. Well, there was Deku, but he was second on his list.

(Name) had always been special for him.

But then, things changed.

Since being paired up with Deku for his practical exam, he was unsettled. Well, he’s been unsettled for a lot of things for lots of reasons. But basically, what he’s been unsettled about with Deku was (Name).

While he remembered wimpy Deku trailing behind him, there was always (Name) ready to drag him away or be beside him. Where there was Deku, (Name) was sure to follow. They were like a combo; one was never without the other. He hated it.

Deku had no fucking quirk, was weak, small, a shitty nerd, yet he had the fucking gall to stand up and try to be a hero. With that, (Name) shifted her attention and adoration to him and him alone.

Honestly, he didn’t mind that they were quirkless – they honestly just got in the way.

Still, it fucking hurts that (Name) wouldn’t bother looking his way or even saying a word to him. Fuck, even Deku would acknowledge him even if it were outta fear!

Bullying probably made sense to keep her distance, especially since he loved targeting weak quirkless like Deku and her. But to be on the receiving end of those angry eyes, it made him weak. It may have enforced and asserted his dominance in middle school, but to her, it was a disgusting power play.

He may not be close with her compared to when they were younger, but he’s always kept an eye out for her (and Deku, shut up). He knows that she’s an expert martial artist, bagging and winning several competitions and tournaments, was the pride of the school and her family dojo, sleeps a lot during classes, and sometimes, the older kids would pick on her because they knew she was tough.

(However, after that one time in middle school, she stopped with the fighting and worked on a clean slate.)

She never befriended anyone without a quirk lightly, the majority of her friends either were quirkless or had a really minor, insignificant quirk. She didn’t seem to care nor mind. However, Deku remained her closest companion.

He’d see her a lot – in hallways, in class, on the way home, but he never got to be with her.

Nonchalant, lax, yet kind and sweet to others, but to him, she was forcibly polite and civil.

Those adoring, reassuring, warm (e/c) eyes were reserved for that one shitty nerd.

He hated to admit it, but he craved for her attention, yearned for her approval, and desperately lingered on the fact that they were childhood friends, so he’s obliged to keep a relationship, even when now they’re barely acquaintances.

On his middle school graduation, while he was surrounded by his so-called friends and his parents, his eyes easily caught on two people laughing amongst themselves.

Just seeing them, laughing together with cherry blossoms fluttering to paint an idyllic image, suddenly made him feel extremely lonely. His hold on his diploma slackened, fingers and foot twitching, eyes taking his childhood acquaintances in.

Graduating top of his class, with a bright future set for UA High School. He should be excited, right? Ecstatic even at what he’s gained? Yet why does it feel so lacking?

Carmine eyes began to soften, especially at the smaller of the two. Realization dawned unto him, the occasion was rather bittersweet for (Name), as it was nearing a year since she lost her parents and she couldn’t share the joyous occasion with them. Thankfully, she had her grandfather with her, then Auntie Inko, and Deku.

But not him.

Irked, he left before his mom could find them, no doubt, to use the opportunity to snag a photo of the three.

Nothing hurts more than to realize that the one person – he swore to protect, to keep by his side, had completely shunned him.

At first, they were inseparable. But as the years passed, they drifted apart.

The day (Name) punched him was a literal awakening, a prologue really. It got him worked up. Then the Sludge Incident happened. Her parents died. The light in those (e/c) eyes weren’t as bright as before, even when she got a part-time job.

He knew he was wrong; he won’t deny that (but he won’t say it out loud either), but he won’t ever hide from it either.

After getting into UA, he felt her punch even more at the introduction of his classmates with quirks, as she aptly put it “better and flashier” compared to his.

That stung, hurting his ego.

Damn, the top was a challenge.

But he wasn’t backing down, damn it.

So, what is he was a proud asshole? He had every reason to be! He had compensated with his talents, smarts, and versatility.

Still, to be called out on having a shitty personality boosted only by the fact that he had a strong quirk could do a number to him.

When it came to matters of the heart, he sucked in that aspect.

(h/c) locks, framing a pretty face with (e/c) eyes, they always, always, always manage to catch him off-guard.

Unbeknownst to the green-haired nerd, whenever he opened his big mouth to his friends in 1-A, he’d hope there was something about (Name), no matter how small or insignificant. They even texted.

Pride would always win over him whenever Deku would openly talk about (Name) – Bakugou would pretend to be uninterested, looking out the window while he was actually taking in the nerd’s words like a starved man, he was the only source of news he had because for the first time in their life, (Name) was not there with them. It sucked. (She was very clear on steering away from heroics or people who had a quirk, despite having one herself)

The days were lonelier and duller without her. Deku’s ramblings were something – slightly comforting, but don’t tell him that, but it just missed that one figure next to him.

For all his bravado, just the mere mention of Yoruichi (Name) made him weak. Wait, scratch that, (Name) was a strong person by herself, he did not make him weak, shut up. Hesitate, yeah, that’s the word, she made him falter, hesitate. Whatever.

Thankfully, none of his idiotic ragtag of friends keyed in on that. Save for Deku.

Deku, who’d always known. Deku, that sharp fucking nerd who always tried to be the goody-two-shoes and goaded him to talk to her.

Like fuck he’d talk to him about (Name), fucking no way. He’d rather have his nails done with half-and-half bastard than to have a heart-to-heart talk with fucking Deku.

Still, there was just one thing he was sure of about Deku, one thing he’ll never admit to anyone – or even him, out loud: compared between the two, Deku was always the bigger person. He was kinder, gentler, better.

A part of him would forever be jealous of the fact that Deku had been there for her when he couldn’t. Deku had access to parts of (Name) he was barred from. Deku was protective of her. Deku had (Name).

And as for him? Well, he was probably good as a dead fuck to her.

The punch still stung.

Nothing hurts more than to realize that you never had a chance, to begin with.

From: (Name) Yuroichi

To: Bakugou Katsuki

I’m glad you’re safe.

A day after Kamino…

For once, the Bakugou household was at peace, a day after his kidnapping. The day before, there was screaming, yelling, crying from both parentals that probably had dried off for today. At least for the first few minutes of the day.

The doorbell rang, Katsuki called out to get it, desperate for a bit of distraction from the silence around him.

He opened the door then froze, breath hitching. Two breaths, actually.

Carmine met (e/c).

For once, indifference was not the expression set on her face that he was looking at, but a softened expression. So incredibly soft.

An image of a younger her suddenly came to mind, back to when they first met each other.

“Katsu- “stopping, her lips pinched together, a small frown setting in, not ready to say his name just yet.

Hurt flashed in his eyes, desperately taking her in.

When he was kidnapped, first of all, he was annoyed as fuck, but most of all, he was scared. The League of Villains had him by the neck, literally, immobilized him, just to lure out All Might. And the thing that kept him grounded was her, (Name). The memory of her soft expression after they’d washed the dishes, comforting silence between them, that burnt mark on her neck, her telling him to have fun at summer camp. Her text message.

Remembering her presence at his doorstep, his eyes caught hold of the item in her hand – ochugen gifts, he uncharacteristically gestured at it.

“U-Uh…”

“Y-Yeah…ochugen.”

“My mom’s not home, so…” his words came out lamely, weakly. So, unlike him.

But she was so lost in her head that she could only nod.

Gently, he reached for the box, their fingers brushing against each other lightly.

Something fluttered in his chest, wildly and tightly. Summer seemed to have come quickly as he was beginning to sweat, the smell of burnt sugar bleeding through.

“T-Then…”

“Hn,”

Head still hung low, he took it as her parting, something in his chest twisting painfully, and he slowly turned on his back.

(Before he headed back in, instincts – maybe, or her heart forced her to, she grabbed hold on the back of his shirt, stopping him, and pressed her head between his shoulder blades, taking in his scent.)

Bakugou didn’t move, feeling her shaking hands balling into fists, as though to ground herself.

“I…I know I said this already, but still, I want you to know,” her voice was shaky, but she continued to speak, taking a deep breath. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” The thing in his chest continued to flutter wildly, threatening to come out. “And I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

Silence followed, likening to a pregnant pause, there was more she wanted to say, but the fear of having your feelings get the best of you seemed off-setting in the given situation, so she settled for that.

Before another word was said, she hurriedly grabbed the Midoriya’s box and clumsily left, completely red in the face.

He watched her leave over his shoulder, she almost ran into the gate, fumbling with the box as she headed to the Midoriya’s.

Suddenly, he felt lighter. The punch no longer hurt, leaving a bruise in its wake. This was the beginning of progress with her, it was something. Proud as he is, Bakugou’s never one to admit his mistakes, but for her, he’ll try.

If anything, she was right about everything she thought about him. Especially the part that he was lame.

masterlist • eight

[camelot-queen]

At every occasion, I’ll be ready for the funeral

A post-Endgame fic

After the funeral, Peter is introduced to Morgan.

Pepper walks her up to him, she’s holding her hand and the little girl shyly approaches him. She looks like she’s trying to hide behind her mother but Pepper keeps a firm yet gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Morgan, this is Peter,” she says sweetly. “Can you say hi?”

“Hi Peter,” Morgan says, swaying slightly.

Despite everything, Peter smiles. He’s been told that five years have passed, even though it doesn’t feel like it for him. But he’s glad Tony got a chance at a happy ending before it all came crashing down.

Was it worth it?

“Hi Morgan,” Peter crouches down to her level. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And it really is. Mr. Stark’s kid… he had a kid. He got married. Peter’s happy, he really is. But it stings that he missed it all, while he was… he was…

“Daddy told me about you,” Morgan says, unprompted. Peter blinks in surprise.

“Uhhh… he did?”

Morgan nods. “Mmhm, he told me stories about you. Can you really hang from the ceiling?”

“I, uhhhh…” he looks up to Pepper for help, but she just smiles and nods. “Uh, yeah, I can.”

Morgan beams. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

He laughs. Pepper laughs. It’s the first time he’s felt any semblance of joy since…

“Sorry, Morg, I don’t think that’s something that can be taught,” Pepper breaks it to her. “Peter is just lucky.”

But is he lucky? He doesn’t feel lucky.

Morgan pouts, and he keeps smiling but it feels more forced.

—

He feels a little like a spectator, like he’s not allowed to be here. All these people spent the past five years with Tony. They know what he’s been through. They were there for his wedding, for the birth of his daughter. Peter feels like an old acquaintance who has never been there for him and has the gall to show up to his private funeral and call himself a friend.

Everyone keeps telling him he belongs here. They tell him how much he meant to Tony, how much he missed him. Pepper tells him that he’s the reason Tony kept fighting. It doesn’t make him feel better though, it only makes a pit form in his stomach.

Do they blame him?

He’s surprised when he sees a boy around his age at the funeral. He doesn’t recognize him—he’s tall, blonde, and no one else seems to be surprised to see him there. He generally keeps his distance, not too interested in socializing, until Pepper grabs him by the hand and pulls him over.

“Peter, I’d like you to meet Harley,” she says, dragging him closer. “Tony met him a long time ago and he always made sure to check in on him from time to time. I’m sure he would have loved you two to meet.”

Peter can’t quite contain the shock on his face. There was another kid he was mentoring? Or, no… just keeping in touch with. How had they met exactly? Why did Tony never tell him? Peter tries not to let the jealousy brew. It doesn’t matter now.

“Hey,” Harley says cooly, hands in his pockets and slouched, looking out-of-place in a suit.

“Um, hi,” Peter responds, his awkwardness a contrast to Harley’s confidence. “I-I’m Peter. Or… Pepper already told you that…”

Harley smiles, a small smile that Peter can’t read. “So you’re the guy that Tony kept telling me about? The kid genius?”

“Oh, I’m not…” Peter stutters over his words.

“I vanished too,” Harley continues, ignoring Peter’s bumbling. “I come back, and suddenly it’s five years later. My little sister is older than me now… so that’s weird. And Iron Man is dead.”

Peter winces at the bluntness of his words.

“The world has gone to shit,” Harley goes on. “I thought aliens in New York was weird, but this is… a new level. My mom and sister keep crying over me, but last thing I remember is yelling at my sister for going through my stuff. And then I was asked to come to Iron Man’s funeral… I always wanted to meet the rest of the Avengers, but not really like this.”

Peter lowers his eyes. He understands Harley to some extent, he missed the last five years too. But the one person who was around to mourn him is dead. Both his aunt and his best friend were also dusted, and they’re all he has left…

“How did you meet Tony?” Harley asks, and Peter’s head whips up. It’s an innocent question, but a complex lie.

“I, uh, uh…” Peter stumbles, much like he has this whole conversation. “The September Foundation. I applied. He hired me. I’m… I was… an intern.”

Harley narrows his eyes. “Tony worked directly with interns?”

“Special project,” Peter squeaks, trying to remember what he was told to regurgitate when people asked.

“That reminds me,” Pepper pipes up, saving Peter from further questioning. “I have something for you.”

She runs back into the house, leaving Peter and Harley alone for a minute. When she comes back, she’s holding a frame.

“I think he would want you to have this,” she explains, handing it over to him.

Peter takes it questioningly, but when he looks at it, his eyes burn. It’s one of the photos they took when Tony swore up and down that Peter deserved some recognition, despite not really doing much in his “internship” rather than messing around with his web shooters. They had taken a normal photo, which they sent to the papers, and then a “silly” one at Tony’s request. He had no idea Tony had framed it.

Without even realizing it, Peter starts crying. Tears plop onto the glass of the frame and his vision blurs.

“Oh, sweetie,” Pepper rubs his shoulder. “He cared about you so much. He never stopped thinking about you.”

He knows it’s supposed to make him feel better, but it doesn’t. His face burns from crying in from of Pepper and a complete stranger, so he tries to excuse himself. They seem hesitant to let him go, but when Pepper tries to pull him into a hug he flinches away. She backs off and he feels bad, but not bad enough to stay. He retreats and finds himself in the back of the house, where no one else is, and crouches on the ground, curling around the picture. There, he lets himself release the pent up sobs he had been trying to stifle.

It’s already been three days since the battle, and the numbing pain hasn’t subsided at all. It’s only gotten worse, the more it’s sunk in. Tony Stark is dead and he’s not coming back. The world went on for five years without him, and now he’s back and it’s in chaos. He died in Tony’s arms, then he watched Tony die. There are so many things he can’t reconcile with right now, and he’s not sure he ever will.

“You alright, kid?”

Peter jumps so fast that he almost falls over. But he catches himself last minute and stares wide-eyed at his unknown company. Happy is standing there, looking awkward.

“Well, I guess you’re not alright, that’s a dumb question,” he says after a while when Peter doesn’t respond.

“What are you doing here?” Peter says in a rush, embarrassed that he was caught crying.

“Well, I was about to make Morgan a cheeseburger,” Happy explains, looking more and more awkward by the second. “And I figured I should ask you if you wanted one too. But I couldn’t find you, so I was wandering around the house and then I heard crying…”

“Oh,” Peter kind of wishes he could be anywhere but here right now.

“Yeah,” Happy agrees. “But now I feel like you probably don’t want a cheeseburger, and it probably would have been better if I just left you alone.”

“No,” Peter wipes his face as best as he can. “A cheeseburger sounds great, actually.”

He follows Happy back into the house, trying as hard as he can to make it look like he wasn’t just crying his eyes out in the back of the house a moment ago. However, as soon as he enters the kitchen, May is right there and embracing him in a hug.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, baby,” she says soothingly, rubbing his back.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, even though he’s clearly not.

Morgan sits at the table, kicking her feet, and Happy grills some burgers. Peter goes to sit at the table with Morgan and May goes to talk to Happy.

Peter looks out the window. People are still offering Pepper their condolences. He wants to offer his own, but he’s scared. He looks around. Everywhere in the house has memories of Tony. Pictures of the family he created while Peter was gone, forgotten wrenches and pieces of machinery laying around, projects he’ll never finish.

He tears his eyes away and stares down at the table. He can’t think about it. His heart aches. Suddenly, he feels a hand land on his… he looks up and Morgan is leaning across the table, smiling.

“Don’t be sad,” she says innocently. “It’s okay.”

Peter is stunned. How is this little girl more composed than he is? But then again, he thinks, she has the combined strength of Tony and Pepper… of course she’s doing better. Peter hasn’t even seen Pepper cry since that first time.

“I’m okay,” Peter says automatically, not wanting to be comforted by a child. “How are you feeling?”

“I miss daddy,” Morgan responds, and her lip trembles. “Mama said he saved the universe and now he’s not here anymore. That’s why there’s more people now.”

That’s right. Peter realizes that Morgan was born into a half populated world. She wasn’t even alive during the snap, the aftermath was all she’s ever known.

“Your dad is the best superhero ever,” Peter’s voice cracks. “Just… the best.”

“That’s what he used to say about you.”

That’s all it takes. The dam bursts and Peter is crying again. He laughs at the same time, both overjoyed and devastated. His emotions well and slosh into each other, combining until he doesn’t know how he feels. Morgan looks taken aback.

“No, don’t cry,” she pets his head gently, which just makes him laugh-cry more. “I’m sorry.”

May and Happy are interrupted from their conversation, which seemed to involve a lot of giggling, when Peter embarrassingly lets out some whimpering sounds.

“Sweetie,” May comes over to pull him out of his chair. “Do you want to go to the bathroom for a minute?”

She doesn’t wait for him to respond, just walks him straight down the hall and into the bathroom. She closes the door and locks it. Peter is standing in the middle of the alarmingly large room awkwardly blubbering. May gives him a pitying face and then bunches up some toilet paper.

“Shh,” she soothes, blotting his eyes uselessly, as more tears just well up.

Peter clenches and unclenches his fists over and over again. He’s reminded of when Ben died and he was throwing up in the bathroom, covered in blood, while May rubbed his back. She must have been in such pain too, but she made sure to comfort him first.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” May says softly. “You did nothing wrong. You’re hurt, just let it all out.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits brokenly. “What am I gonna do? Why does everyone leave?”

May pushes his head into the crook of her shoulder. He cries openly and she continues to make shushing noises and rock them both.

“It hurts, but you’ll get through this,” she whispers. “Not today, not tomorrow, but someday you’ll feel okay again. He’ll never be forgotten, but his memory won’t hurt so bad. And just know that he died a hero… because of him, we’re here. You’re here. I’m so grateful for that.”

Peter tightens his grip around her waist. They stay like that until they hear a knock at the door.

“Are you guys alright?” he hears Happy’s voice.

May pulls away to open the door. Happy is standing there looking sheepish.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says. “Cheeseburgers are ready.”

“Thanks, Happy,” May smiles. “We might need a second.”

“Of course,” Happy looks past her to make eye contact with Peter. “Hanging in there, kid?”

Peter knows he looks like a mess. His eyes are red, his hair has become unstyled from running his fingers through it repeatedly, his skin is blotchy. But he nods anyways.

Happy nods. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he finally says, then walks out.

May turns back to Peter. “We can leave now if you want. I think you’ve stayed long enough.”

Peter nods. “Cheeseburgers, then home.”

May smiles. “You got it.”

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

It Only Takes A Second To Be Ruined - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, bits of Diana, Clark and Jon Summary: That second was years and decades and eons. And Bruce knew what that was like. Bruce knew what that was like ten times over. And he wouldn’t wish that feeling on his worst enemy, let alone his tiny, vulnerable thirteen year old son. A/N: This is garbage, I don’t know. I’m all about Bruce being hella pensive about his kids these days I guess.

~~

It was a blur, how things ended up this way.

He and Jon were just hanging out. Not in costume, just as Jon and Damian, not Superboy and Robin.

They’d stumbled upon a human trafficking ring, snatching kids in the middle of the day. They were taken, they were thrown into cages with other children. Younger children. Knew they couldn’t leave without helping.

So they played along, pretended to be scared. Took the abuse and let their very real anger out when the other was hurt, or any other child they were captured with.

Were about to launch a plan. Attack their kidnappers, fight those buying children, when suddenly their fathers showed up. Batman and Superman, along with Wonder Woman and a few members of their family. Red Hood and Supergirl. Drake and Conner. All whooshing in to save their boys. To save them and these innocent kids they looked so much like.

Nightwing was among them too, though Damian only saw him in passing. Fighting elsewhere while Jon and Damian worked to escape and get their peers to safety, while they were passed between their fathers and siblings and other heroes. Being babied, and Damian hated that, but there were more pressing matters right now than pride.

And they won – as expected. The kids were saved, Jon and Damian were saved. The villains were caught and they could all regroup.

Jon and Damian were walking back to the central scene of the crime, the building they and the other children were being held. Already, they could see the imposing figures of Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman.

They were facing away from them, looking down at a large, colorful tarp. Batman was crouched next to it.

And it was only as they got closer that Damian realized there was a shape in the tarp, that the shape was a person.

That the person was Nightwing.

He could see him, could see his head and his shoulders. There was blood on his face and his eyes were closed. But that was him. That was undeniably his older brother.

And his mind went blank. Everything went blank. He must have screamed, because Jon suddenly jumped next to him, immediately asking him what was wrong.

Damian didn’t answer, just took off running. Clark must have heard him scream too, because he was instantly turning towards him. Diana turned too, just as Clark suddenly flew towards him to meet him halfway.

Next thing he knew he was swept up in Superman’s arms, could hear Superboy running up behind him. He didn’t care, though. Clawed at Clark’s shoulders and chest with all his might, kicked at his chest, screaming for Nightwing as loud as he could.

“Damian.” Clark tried softly. “Damian, it’s okay. It’s not what you think-”

“Nightwing!” Damian continued, tears already falling down his face. “I have to see him. I have to see him! I can save him! I can still save him, I can-!”

Clark grunted, tried to switch his grip, but Damian was squirming too much. Diana watched them for a second, then glanced down at Bruce. Bruce looked up at her, then over his shoulder in confusion.

“Superman, let me go.” Damian breathed, eyes locked on his brother. He didn’t care about his father. Didn’t care about the superheroes around him, or the one holding him. “Let me go, I need to get to Nightwing. I need to-”

Suddenly – Nightwing’s eyes opened.

“Nigh…” Damian stopped breathing. Thought he was about to puke as Dick turned towards him, his own eyes alarmed. “Nightwing…?”

The world came whoosing back. Superman holding him, his friend tugging at his shirt. The buildings around them, the situation they just escaped from. His father, and Diana Prince.

“He thought you were dead.” He heard Diana explaining to Dick, as Dick sat up and struggled to get out from underneath the tarp. “I believe he thought you were gone.”

“Oh.” Dick murmured as Bruce helped him free himself. Immediately, he was up, jogging on a limping leg towards Clark. Clark tried to say something, but much like Damian, Dick didn’t listen, grabbing Damian and dragging him into his own embrace. “Oh, Damian, it’s okay. I’m still here.”

Damian clung to his shoulders even harder than he had Clark’s. He probably drew blood with his nails, if either of them were paying attention. But they weren’t, Damian was too focused on the painful relief washing through his chest, and Dick was too busy rubbing his spine.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Dick murmured, like he was talking to a baby. “I just fell. Not like off a building either, just stumbled over my own two feet. The sheet fell off the billboard up on the building. Bruce and them just found me, we were just talking. I was being lazy.”

“Lazy.” Damian repeated shakily, like in disbelief. “Lazy.”

“I’m so sorry I scared you.” Dick breathed, kissing Damian’s head. “If I’d have known you were here, I’d have been on my feet ready to scold the crap out of you.” He leaned back, holding Damian’s face with one hand. “What have I told you about getting kidnapped?”

“Don’t try to distract me, you…you…” He dug his nails even further into Dick’s collarbone. Dick winced, but didn’t say anything. “…asshole.”

“Hey, I think you’re the asshole here.” Dick said plainly. He heard Jon gasp in scandal, and Clark chuckle while he attempted to distract him. “Do you know what it’s like getting a phone call telling you your baby brother and his best friend have been kidnapped by some violent human traffickers when you’re hundreds of miles away?” He released Damian’s cheek, only to tap his finger against his nose. “It sucks, that’s what it feels like. The whole world’s crumbling and there’s nothing you can do about it, that’s what it feels like, too.”

“I was fine.” Damian still tried, still shaken, though a little mad now. “You were the one lying on the ground like a corpse.”

“I’m sorry.” Dick tried again. It was clear Damian wasn’t accepting it, too high on the pain at the thought of losing Dick still himself. “Any way I can make it up to you?”

“Move back into the manor. Take me to and pick me up from that stupid school every day. Assist me with walking Titus every evening at dusk. Practice swordplay with me during every morning training. Weekly movie nights where I pick the movie and Drake and Todd aren’t invited.” Damian listed off, like he had this prepared for ages. He suddenly looked over Dick’s shoulder. “Can you make that happen, Father?”

“I can promise you a month for sure.” Bruce laughed, coming up and patting Dick on the shoulder. “Maybe two.”

Dick had the gall to look offended. “Bruce!”

“You did scare him.” Bruce smirked. “Scared me a little too, if I’m honest. Then made me kneel down to talk to you, when you know Alfred’s been on my case about resting my left knee since my last fracture. So…I hate to admit it, Nightwing, but you absolutely deserve this.”

“Lazy.” Dick snorted incredulously, dragging Damian’s head back down to rest on his shoulder anyway. “I was lazy for once in my life, and this is the grief I get.”

“I’d feel bad for you, but.” Bruce shrugged. “Maybe you’ll think before yelling at me too much next time.” He grinned at his own terrible joke, running a hand over Damian’s head. “I’m glad you’re safe, Damian. You didn’t have just Nightwing worried, you know.”

He glanced up at Bruce with big, innocent eyes. Dick groaned loudly at the obvious act. “Apologies, Father.”

“Mhm. I’m just glad you and Jon are alright.” Bruce reiterated, then glanced at Dick. “And you, too.”

“Sorry, Dad.” Dick droned. “Any way I can make it up to you either?”

“Yes. Take care of you brother. Makes sure he stays safe.” Bruce still said it warmly, but there was an underlying concern that only Dick could hear. The concern of an old man who has seen too much, worked too hard and regretted the time lost with his children. “Starting right now. We need to finish up this case, mind getting Damian and Jon back to the manor for the night?”

“I’ll even make them milkshakes before I tuck ‘em in and sing them lullabies.” Dick sighed, but it was more content than annoyed. Damian suddenly squirmed, a clear sign he wanted back on his own two feet, but Dick was feeling vindictive. Kept a firm hold on his legs even as he turned towards the Kent boys and held out his hand. “Come on, Jonno. I’ll let you pick what oversized bed you want to sleep in first, okay?”

Jon nodded silently, accepted a kiss to his cheek from Clark, then hooked his fingers around Dick’s.

“…I’m glad you’re not dead.” Jon whispered as Dick took them away. Damian was still clinging to his shoulders like his life depended on it, and Bruce had a feeling he wouldn’t let go until they got back to the house. “Damian would have been unbearable.”

Dick laughed out loud, but leaned his head on Damian’s anyway. Bruce watched Damian close his eyes in relief, and felt his heart break for his youngest, just a little.

For, while the situation had turned out slightly comical, it was reality to him, for that second. Just that second.

But that second was long enough. That second was years and decades and eons. And Bruce knew what that was like. Bruce knew what that was like ten times over. And he wouldn’t wish that feeling on his worst enemy, let alone his tiny, vulnerable thirteen year old son.

He sighed and turned back to Clark and Diana, making a mental note to make those two months into at least six, for poor Damian’s sake.