#i kinda hate how midterms are Right Before spring break

[gebtoons]

my contribution to the bapo timeline discourse bc i’m just gonna propose a timeline and will not be taking criticism <3 (under the cut bc this is gonna be a long post probably) 

ok disclaimer I am quite stupid, however I’m gonna use my knowledge from my own 12 years in american public high school and what little info I have about american boarding schools/catholic schools that I have from my friends lol. so. idk. 

i’m also gonna date songs/major events and i’m gonna be taking some “just trust me bro” liberties bc y’all are right it does NOT make that much sense. 

January 6: Epiphany; this is like an actual holiday lol. like its always on the sixth. idk its good that this is the starting point bc its an actual date yknow? For the purposes of this timeline were going with that its early in the week, so lets go with Monday idk

January 6-13: You and I, Role of a Lifetime; so we’re all kinda in agreement that this timeline (at least the beginning) only really makes sense if you and i/role of a lifetime aren’t like. a singular moment and are instead multiple days. so yeah, of this first week, this is like. monday-next sunday ish yknow. 

January 14: Auditions, Plain Jane Fatass; ok so having auditions for a spring musical right after kids get back from break actually makes perfect sense to me, like i can see it being like “ok take break to prepare so as soon as you come back we can have auditions so we can jump right into rehersals” yknow? and since the rave is clearly on a friday (”we’ll meet in tanya’s room on friday night”) so i’m going with the monday before.  

as for pjf, i know it doesn’t make a ton of sense for them to get a two week late birthday package their first few weeks back from school, but hear me out it makes sense. the implication throughout this entire show is that the twins have decently shitty parents. from bits of dialogue (in this song in particular lol) i’m kinda inferring their the “only concerned with how their kids make them look to others” kind of neglectful. so I don’t think it’s too outside the realm of possibility that they went away for the holidays, didn’t bring the twins, and instead mailed them a birthday package and having it show up two weeks late. realistically the timing of this isnt that important and the explicit “two week” time frame could’ve been an exaggeration on nadia’s part to mock her shit parents (idk its in her character) basically ppl are a little two fixated on this imo but anyway. moving on. 

January 18: Wonderland, A Quiet Night At Home, Rolling, Best Kept Secret; a very agreed upon point in the timeline. its the friday following the auditions. moving on. 

January 21: Confession; also very agreed upon. the monday following the rave. moving on again 

January 23: Portrait of a Girl; the date here is kinda arbitrary, but bc sister chantelle says “ok lets try to put yesterday’s rehearsal behind us” and i for the life of me cannot think of a scene she could be referring to (there’s none in the script either) that implies it wasn’t the same monday as confession (bc even in a boarding school i think holding extracurriculars that aren’t sports over the weekend (especially when they are no where near crunch time lol) is weird and not common) so i just picked a random day during the week

January 25: Birthday Bitch!, One Kiss, Are You There?; from matt’s line in wonderland, ivy’s birthday is a week after the rave. in my timeline that’s january 25th (an aquarius queen). 

btw given all grown up’s “17, how will i manage?” ivy is 16 during 17 at her party, which is strange given shes a high school senior and seniors are typically 17 during 18. so either a) she skipped a grade, not an unheard of thing. or b) shes not a senior, shes just a junior who hangs out with a bunch of seniors, which is also pretty common. and looking through the script i can’t find any mention that she is also a senior, other than yknow she graduates with them, but she isn’t mentioned during the class ranking scene? so idk not that it really matters just a fun detail 

February 3 (at night): 911 Emergency!; ok controversial. i know i like the joke about how its funny that peter having a weird dream when he was high prompted him to want to come out and really ruined his relationship with jason. BUT. i think the dream (despite it’s weirdness) would have a lot more meaning if it wasn’t the result of being really high, but if it was a dream he had like a week later as a result of a building sense of guilt/anxiety bc he told matt. also it fits better given later timeline things. (this timeline literally only exists if there are weird jumps in time that don’t make a ton of sense) (EDIT: I forgot one line about Jason crashing at ivys but fuck it forget that bitchass line this makes for more drama its staying this way)

February 4: Reputation Stain’d, Ever After; the next day following peter’s dream, idk what else to say, moving on. 

February 25-28: Spring; another jump! i’m sorry but the only way for this to make sense logistically is for there to be quite a few time jumps! however, i also think this one works bc i think it gives time for everything from around ivy’s party and peter and jason’s break up to stew emotionally. like obviously a musical only has so much time to tell a story so the audience cannot see every realistic beat, but honestly i think it makes the whole thing a little more dramatic™ if there’s space for everything to settle, and for ivy to come and apologize and such. also, the reason it’s multiple days is bc in the script, ivy is trying to study (presumably for some sort of midterm) while nadia is playing, so that probably takes place a few days before they move out, so before finals. but in the script, jason and peter are packing and peter is leaving, so that part of the song/staging takes place on the 28th. yes, that’s weird, but we are clearly thinking more about the logistics of this school than the writers were so. 

March 1: One; assuming st. cecilia’s works kinda like boarding schools here, they probably do staggered move out/move in, just bc that would be a lot to have people coming and going at once so it makes sense that peter left the day before, while jason and ivy are leaving the next day. also, given that peter is trying to call jason while he and ivy are banging, it’s probably been a hot minute since the actual break up, since peter was clearly very hurt by the whole thing, it would make sense (at least to me) that peter would reach out a month ish later, rather than like a few days later (you have to make so many assumptions to make this timeline work granted they aren’t super out there assumptions but still this is annoying) 

March 1-25: Spring Break. the coworkers I have who are in boarding school work over their school breaks, which are longer than the public school breaks (which are only a week) so i put their spring break at 3 weeks. it makes sense, and it makes the later part of the timeline make sense. 

I know i’m already halfway through this, but to me it makes sense for their to be quite a few time jumps in the story bc its a musical. they cannot show every day. there are a lot of other shows (particularly shows set in high schools) that are set over a whole school year, but if you just look at the events of the story that doesn’t make sense, so you have to imply that obviously they are not showing every little detail. moving on. 

March 25: Wedding Bells, In The Hallway, Touch My Soul; peter wakes up from his nightmare in the church, so im assuming he fell asleep in church (like he almost did during epiphany). also it makes sense that class ranks are announced in late march-early april, I know my school announced ours in like, the first week or so of april? so yeah. moving on.

(from this point on i was giving myself a headache trying to make it make sense so its all weird from here!!)

April 4: See Me, Warning; the date doesn’t really matter here, I picked a random day in early april. the script said peter is calling from him and jason’s old dorm room, as he was picking up the last of his things, so he clearly made the roommate switch after school started (makes sense to me). 

April 15-20 (approximately): Ivy finds out she’s pregnant. look google tells me on average people find out they are pregnant around 5-7 weeks after conception. i went with around 7 just so this timeline makes a tiny bit more sense given the later stuff, so yeah here we go. 

May 4: Pilgrim’s Hands, God Don’t Make No Trash, All Grown Up, Promise, Once Upon A Time, Cross; a rough night for our heroes. so given sister chantelle saying “again? wonderful.” and nadia saying “i can’t believe you missed rehearsal again”, clearly ivy has been missing quite a few rehearsals, so for dramas sake maybe from when she found out she was pregnant? also i know i’ve been saying they wouldn’t have rehearsals on weekends, and given my weird timeline this would be a saturday, but its tech week so i’ll allow it. 

May 5: Two Households, Bare, Queen Mab, A Glooming Peace; pretty self explanatory, and it makes sense to have the spring play in early may. rip jason. 

May 11: Absolution; the day before graduation peter goes to confront the priest. gives him a small amount of time to start processing, and it makes sense it would be the night before, at least to me. 

May 12: No Voice; i fucking hate this. “peter, we graduate next sunday” i hate that stupid fucking line. do you know that this timeline literally would be fine if it weren’t for that stupid fucking line? bc then, the school play would be in early may and graduation could be in late may-early june (when most high schools hold graduation) but no. keeping with continuity, they have to graduate the sunday following the school play. “peter we graduate in a month, are you really never gonna talk to me again?” would have been fine. but no, now we have beef. literally everything else about the end of this timeline being kinda weird would work itself out, except for the fucking graduation. god damn. anyway, may 12th, the graduate on may 12th which is really fucking weird bc of that one fucking line. whatever. i didn’t write the damn thing bc if i did i wouldn’t have written that fucking line. (i’ve been at this for over an hour and a half, so i’m a tad annoyed, can you tell?) 

anyway, that’s it. that’s my long as hell proposed bare timeline. if there’s anything glaringly wrong with it i don’t care bc this timeline literally cannot make sense. but honestly, now that i think about the Popular Tween High Schooler Musicals (heathers, bmc, deh) the timelines of those (especially heathers and bmc) don’t make tons of sense either. that’s just the way it is, that’s the way its gonna be. and we have to live with it. 

this post is so long it is actually slowing down my laptop as i type it

[lyssismagical]

8 and 59 iron dad?

“Do you hate me?” & “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” 

(This one kinda got away from me idk how it happened but this ended up being 3k lmao) 

Tony was grieving. That’s all it was.

Peter repeated it to himself over and over again, all day everyday, to convince himself it wasn’t actually his fault that Tony kept lashing out at him.

It wasn’t easy to feel like an intruder in what was meant to be his home, but it wasn’t Tony’s fault. He was grieving, that was all.

It had been four months since Pepper died doing the snap to win that battle.

Tony was grieving the loss of his wife. His best friend. The mother of his child. The one who’s stood by his side for decades.

The lashing out, the anger, the cold shoulder, it was fair. Tony was grieving.

If Peter felt hurt by any of it, he refused to show it. He would hold his chin high and meet every emotion with meek apologies and offerings of anything he could think of.

Peter had been living in the cabin for all four months, taking care of Morgan by himself while her dad was more or less MIA, in the throes of guilt and grief and anguish. Happy and May were grieving in the city, picking up her life. Rhodey was busy with work, helping rebuild the broken world.

It was down to Peter to take care of the five-year-old and her grieving father.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t taking it’s toll on him.

He hadn’t slept well for as long as he could remember. He was trying to catch up in the missing five years, dealing with the nightmares and the obvious signs of PTSD after back-to-back wars he fought in, not to mention trying to stay on top of his school work at Midtown without actually going to school, and trying to keep tabs on everyone he cares about without them worrying about him.

It wasn’t easy work, that alone. But he’s also being a parent by himself.

It’s tiring. He’s a kid too, but he has to continue growing up too fast for everyone around him.

“Petey okay?” Morgan asks, crawling onto the couch next to him.

He blinks back the sleep that tries to take over his vision and forces himself up into a sitting position. “Yeah, I’m good, Momo, just a little tired. You want breakfast?”

“Pancakes!” she exclaims, hopping up onto her feet again. “With chocolate chips! And juice pops!”

Peter smiles and drags himself to his feet again. He slept for maybe an hour, trying to finish his reading for English along with all the projects he has to complete before midterms.

He gets Morgan situated at the table with a coloring book while he makes a batch of pancakes for them, setting aside a few for Tony.

“I’ll be right back down, alright?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Eat up and then go get dressed, alright? I’ve gotta drive you to the city in a few hours for your appointment with Miss Sarah.”

Thankfully, he got his driver’s license before the snap, so he can take her to her therapy sessions in the city three times a week, along with play dates, birthday parties, grocery shopping, and everything else Peter has to remember.

Morgan obediently shoves another piece of pancake in her mouth and grins up at him.

Tony’s room is dim, only the warm lamp light filling the room.

“I brought you breakfast and a coffee,” Peter murmurs, settling them down on the nightstand. Some days, Tony’s better at pretending for Morgan’s sake at being okay. Today’s not one of those days.

He opens the thick curtains and pushes the window open, letting in some spring air, before cautiously touching Tony’s shoulder. He’s awake but unresponsive.

“Mister Stark?” Peter tries. He grabs the coffee off the nightstand and offers it out to Tony.

But his foot catches on the edge of the bed and the coffee spills over the white sheets.

The reaction is instant.

“Fucking hell, Parker!” Tony shouts, shoving the sheets off his legs to avoid burning his skin. “Had to go fuck this up too?”

“Mister Stark, I was just- I was just trying to help,” Peter says, caving into himself as he tries to clean up the coffee with his own sweater sleeves. It burns at his skin, but he doesn’t stop, movements panicky and shaking.

Tony shoves at his hands, getting to his feet. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Peter would’ve preferred it to be screamed at him, to be grabbed and shaken, to be punched. But it’s said quietly, cold, and something breaks in his chest.

“I was just trying to help. I’m sorry,” Peter repeats, blinking back tears. “It was an accident.”

“An accident? A fucking accident?”

Tony looks angrier than Peter had ever seen him. Angrier than the day of the ferry. Angrier than when he found out about the warehouse. Angrier than the day of Pepper’s funeral when he threw a fit.

“I’m sorry, Mister Stark.” It seems to be the only thing computing in his brain, anger slowly simmering because he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be shouted at after all the work he’s constantly putting into the family, after taking over all of Tony’s responsibilities.

“Stop fucking apologizing!” Tony shouts, throwing his hands up in anger. “Stop fucking things up! Stop being a fucking nuisance! I don’t need you to bring me coffee and breakfast like I’m- like I’m a damsel in distress!”

Peter goes to snap at him, opens his mouth to shout that if Peter weren’t here, Morgan would be all by herself. That if he stopped being a ‘nuisance’, Tony would’ve starved to death and Morgan would’ve been alone because Tony isn’t being much of a role model right now.

But a quiet, “Petey?” stops him from going farther than opening his mouth.

“It’s okay, Momo, you wanna meet me at the car? I just gotta finish this up, alright? And then I’ll go take you to see Miss Sarah.”

“Daddy?” Morgan tries again, searching their faces for help, for some sort of clue for what to do.

But Tony doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, chest heaving for breath and tears burning at his eyes. So Peter takes the responsibility, like he always does.

“He’s okay, Mo, just sick, ‘member?” Peter says. “Go put on your shoes, okay? Meet me out at the car. You can choose which ones you want to wear.”

This seems to catch her attention because Peter hasn’t let her wear her sparkly new light-up shoes because of all the spring mud. She takes off from the doorway, disappearing from their views.

“Peter, I- I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I’m going to take Morgan to the city,” Peter interrupts, trying his best to blink back tears. “She has an appointment with her therapist and it’s grocery day, so…”

It’s not Tony’s fault, Peter repeats in his head, he’s just grieving.

But there’s only so many times you can play the grief card, especially as an adult. There’s only so much Tony can do before it becomes inexcusable.

“Kid-”

“I’m seventeen,” Peter says, too much anger and venom filling his voice because Tony hadn’t been there for Peter’s seventeenth birthday after they got back from the Snap in late July. Tony hadn’t left this bed that day. Morgan didn’t know it was his birthday, nobody could take care of her, so Peter spent his birthday doting on Morgan like he was her parent, like always.

Tony flinches, sitting on the edge of his bed and cradling his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, kid, I know I’ve been… I’ve been awful, I just-”

“It’s hard, I know,” Peter says, trying so hard to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I know what grief is like.”

Eyes wild and upset, Tony looks up from his hands, something too similar to the anger from before burning in his expression.

“You didn’t lose everything!” Tony says. “She was- Pep was my everything.”

It’s not his fault, Peter repeats like a mantra. It’s not his fault he thinks his grief is the end of the world, like the worst thing to have ever happened, grief has its ways of working like that.

“Well you have a daughter who lost her mom and now she’s lost her dad too because you won’t even show your face!” It’s a low blow and he hates himself for it, but he’s so sick and tired of carrying everything by himself. “She’s got me right now, and that’s it. All she’s got is a nuisance who can’t stop fucking up.”

The words to their job though. The anger from Tony’s face disappears like it was never there in the first place.

“Peter-”

“I think it would be better if I took Morgan and we stayed at May’s for the night,” Peter says. He has to be the adult.

He doesn’t want to leave Tony. Grieving alone. But he’s not going to let Morgan stay in a house that could be dangerous. Not that he doesn’t trust Tony, but he doesn’t want Morgan to be yelled at for any mistakes, not like he was.

And this is the breaking point for Peter. He’s spent months doing everything in his power to make sure Morgan and Tony are okay, but Tony hasn’t made any efforts to meet him halfway. All he’s done is throw anger and give the cold shoulder.

Peter knows what grief does to people. He’s seen it firsthand. When May lost Ben, the same scenario as Tony losing Pepper, May took care of Peter. She made sure that Peter was okay, and she got them both therapists and she met everything headstrong and chin held high. She grieved but she never made Peter feel like he wasn’t important, she never made Peter feel like a nuisance.

“Kid-”

Peter shakes his head, steels himself, and heads out of the cabin, refusing to look back.

*Peter waits in his car during Morgan’s session with Miss Sarah and cries.

And he knows he looks like a mess when he goes in to pick her up ninety minutes later.

Miss Sarah sees it immediately and she ducks her head to look at him properly, worry creasing her face.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

On one hand, the last thing he needs is to be scrutinized by a therapist, but on the other hand, she’s the first adult who’s sounded like they genuinely cared about his well being since the snap’s reversal.

Just that alone makes him want to break down.

“I’m okay, yeah. Just a rough morning, I guess,” he murmurs, trying to get a hold of himself. “Is Morgan doing alright?”

“She’s making stellar progress, Peter, but I’m worried about you and about Tony. From what Morgan tells me, you’re under a lot of stress.”

Peter shrugs, trying to look nonchalant as he looks over Sarah’s shoulder into her office where Morgan’s finishing up a coloring. “Tony’s dealing with a lot right now, so I’m stepping in as a caretaker, I guess. It just takes its toll.”

“You know it’s not your responsibility to take care of her, right? You’re not the adult,” she says. “You’re shaking, honey, do you want to sit down?”

He shoves his trembling hands into his hoodie pockets. “We should really be going. We’ll see you Sunday?”

“Of course,” Sarah replies, looking back at Morgan. “You know, I can always talk to you as well. I’ve always got room in my schedule for you, Peter.”

And Peter nods like he’d really accept the offer.

Instead, he takes Morgan’s hand, leads her out to the car and takes off to May’s apartment, refusing to let the tears bubble over.

They do, as they always do, you can’t stop tears forever.

Luckily, the tears wait until Morgan’s tucked into Happy’s arms and May’s got her arms around Peter.

And he breaks.

His head falls onto her shoulder and her arms wrap around his waist, soft shushing noises escaping her mouth as she looks over at Happy for help.

“Tony, he- I just- May, I can’t- I can’t do it anymore,” he cries. When the words start, they never seem to stop. “I fucked up and he yelled at me. He told me- He told me I was being a nuisance, that I shouldn’t be there anymore. He- I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t leave Morgan.”

“C’mon, kiddo, let’s go play in Petey’s room, okay?” He hears Happy say, leading Morgan out of the foyer.

Peter can’t stop shaking, can’t stop crying, can’t stop sinking under the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t sleep and I can’t eat and I’m so tired, May. I’m so tired. Please, I can’t-”

“This never should’ve been put on you, kid,” May says, voice soft and gentle. She steadies him and leads him to the couch, letting him curl into her side. “It’s not your job to be the adult, to be Morgan’s parent. That’s not on you.”

“I just wanted to help,” Peter says, feeling pathetic and messy, like his whole being has been torn to pieces and strung across the world.

May nods, tipping her head down to look at him properly. “Get some rest, baby. We’ll take care of Morgan and I’ll call Tony, okay? He’s going to come through.”

Peter sobs, hiding his face in shame. “I can’t, May, I can’t sleep. I always have nightmares of- of Titan or the war or- I just- Please, I can’t sleep-”

“Peter, honey, I know you’ve gotten used to doing this alone, but I’m here now. If you have nightmares, I’ll be here to help.”

And that’s what he needed.

He needed an adult to tell him it would be okay. To hold him close and tell him that he didn’t have to do it all on his own. And May was there, she always was.

“Rest, honey. It’ll all be better soon, I promise.”

It had been weeks since he’d gotten good rest, always up at dawn for Morgan and always awake until the early hours of morning for Tony or schoolwork. His eyes closed on their own accord, slipping shut as May pulled a blanket around his shoulders.

And he believed her. He trusted her. He was still just a kid and when an adult says it’ll be okay, it has to be, right?

*He wakes crying, hands fumbling in the air to fight an invisible threat, but his hands are caught in the air.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re alright, take a breath.”

And that certainly wasn’t May’s voice or even Happy’s.

“Tony?” Peter asks, voice breaking as the tears refused to slow.

“I’m here, kiddo, I- I’m sorry. I couldn’t possibly be more sorry than I am now. I really messed up and I’m going to fix it, alright?”

The living room is still bright, thankfully. Peter doesn’t know if he told anybody about his fear of the dark ever since he was dusted, but he’s glad he doesn’t have to spill those secrets now.

“I can’t do it anymore,” Peter admits through his tears, sniffling miserably as he pins Tony’s hand between Peter’s cheek and the cushion, closing his eyes. “I can’t do it.”

But Tony nods. He doesn’t get angry or upset or even push Peter away. “I know, kiddo, I’m sorry you had to do it in the first place. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I’m going to get better, okay? I’m going to fix this now. Sarah is setting me up with my own therapist and I’m going to start being a better parent, okay?”

“I’m sorry too,” Peter says. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I shouldn’t have taken your kid and left you. I should’ve kept going, been stronger, I just- I couldn’t-”

The silence that follows scares Peter more than he’d like to admit, blinking his eyes open as more tears spill down his cheeks and his trembling hands grab onto Tony’s sleeve.

“Please don’t- I can’t- Are you mad at me? Do you hate me? I shouldn’t have- I was trying so hard and I still wasn’t good enough-”

Tony’s thumb runs over Peter’s cheekbone, gently brushing away the tears. “I could never hate you, kiddo. You were so strong, so much stronger than I could’ve ever been, even if you shouldn’t’ve had to be. If anything, you should be mad at me, not viceversa. I saw the things you were doing for Morgan-”

“It was nothing.”

“You drove an hour into the city three times a week for her therapy. You did all the groceries, the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, everything. Morgan even told me about her birthday party that you planned for her. You worked nonstop and all I did was be an ass to you. You had sticky notes all over your walls to remind you of the things you were doing like fucking dance lessons with Morgan. You went to mom-and-daughter dance lessons with Morgan every weekend. Don’t tell me that’s not nothing.”

“You should see our routine,” Peter says, laughing wetly. “I wear a bright pink tutu and everything.”

Tony offers a gentle smile. “You’re my kid too, Pete, not Morgan’s parent. You should be in high school with Ted and the scary girl, going out as Spider-Man, dealing with all the trauma you’ve thrown on the backburner, not taking care of the things I should’ve been doing.”

“You’re going to get better?” Peter asks, throat tightening.

“Yeah, kiddo. I think you and Morgan will stay here for a little bit while I work on getting myself in a better headspace, but May and Happy are going to be your parents, not you. And when I get better, I’m going to take over, alright? You can relax now.”

Peter hesitantly shuffles over on the couch, making space for Tony next to him with a tentative smile.

And Tony doesn’t hesitate to curl up beside Peter and hold his kid close. “Thank you for everything you did for me and Morgan, kid.”

“It’s what Pepper would’ve done.”

“I love you, you know that? And so did she, even if she was worse at admitting it than I was. She was the one who bought the matching Big Brother/Little Sister t-shirts for you two. She wanted you apart of the family as much as I did.”

“I love you too, Tony.”

This is compromise. This is Tony meeting Peter halfway. This is the first step in the right direction. And Peter believes the promises that everything will be okay. He wouldn’t trade the past few months for the world. He loves Morgan and Tony too much for that.

[whumphoarder]

Dad Level: 3000

Summary: Peter comes down with the flu while visiting the Stark family (and Happy) at the lake house during his spring break from MIT. Thankfully, Tony has been spending the last five years honing his Dad Skills™. He's got this.

Word count: 5,227

Genre: sickfic, hurt/comfort, fluff, whump

A/N: This story is set in March 2025. Morgan is five and Peter is 18 (but also 23 on paper, which totally isn’t confusing at all).

Most of the events of Infinity War/Endgame happened, except Captain Marvel did the snap with her mighty-glowing-lady-warrior-powers and so no one freaking died.

Thanks to @sallyidss and @xxx-cat-xxx for beta reading <3

Link to read on AO3

Tony walks into the kitchen Monday morning to see his five-year-old daughter standing on her tiptoes on a chair, attempting to reach a small cardboard box inside the open freezer.

“What is this, a heist?” he asks, moving towards Morgan. He loops an arm around her middle and lifts her into his arms, planting a quick kiss on the top of her head and causing the little girl to giggle. “I thought Mommy said no juice pops before noon.”

“It’s for Peter,” she says simply.

“Oh it’s for Peter, is it?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow. “And why does Peter need a juice pop at ten in the morning?”

“Because he doesn’t feel good and juice pops always make me feel better,” Morgan concludes.

Tony’s brow furrows, but he just steps closer to the freezer to allow her to reach into the box properly. Now that he thinks about it, Peter had seemed pretty wiped last night, but he’d brushed it off as midterm exam stress. “I think he likes the orange ones best,” he advises.

Morgan fishes out an orange popsicle and Tony lowers her back down to the floor. She skips off down the hall, around the corner, and all the way to the cabin’s guest bedroom where the kid has been staying for the past two days since MIT spring break had officially begun. Tony follows along, his frown deepening when she continues straight through the room and pushes open the slightly ajar door to the ensuite bathroom.

It’s a sorry sight indeed. Peter is slumped on the floor, propped up between the bathtub and toilet, eyes half-closed and his cheek resting on the edge of the bowl. One arm is wrapped around his stomach and he’s pale and sweaty.

Morgan, bless her heart, runs right over to him. “I got you a juice pop!” she says brightly.

Peter blinks up at her and then swallows thickly before offering her the weakest of smiles. “Oh. Thanks,” he croaks. “Uh, do you think you can do me a big favor and eat it for me?”

Spinning around, Morgan gazes up at Tony, her eyes big. “Can I?”

Despite his growing concern, Tony huffs out a quick laugh. “Sure, why not,” he agrees. Pepper is the one always reminding him to choose his battles after all. “We’ll just keep this one to ourselves.”

As Morgan unwraps the plastic from her popsicle, Peter closes his eyes tightly and swallows again, face draining even further of color.

Tony pats Morgan on the shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you go eat that with Uncle Happy? I’m gonna sit here with Peter for a little while.”

“Okay,” she agrees, spinning around on her heel.

The moment she’s gone, Tony’s attention turns back to his other kid, who is looking even more miserable now. “Not feeling so hot, huh?”

Peter shakes his head slightly, letting his eyelids squeeze shut again. “‘M’sorry,” he murmurs.

If Peter didn’t look so pathetic right now, Tony would have rolled his eyes. Instead, he just lets out a small sigh. “Not your fault, kiddo,” he assures. “You throw up?”

“Not yet,” Peter mumbles, then swallows again. “Just... feel really sick.”

“C’mon, Happy’s tuna casserole wasn’t that bad…” he tries to joke, but it falls flat when Peter doesn’t so much as smirk.

Tony steps further into the bathroom and crouches down beside the kid, wincing as his knees click in protest. “Is it just your stomach?”

“I dunno.” Peter shrugs tiredly. “Kinda ache all over...”

Tony places his hand on the back of Peter’s neck and instantly can feel the heat radiating off the kid’s sweaty skin. Peter shivers at the touch. “Your hand is really cold,” he complains.

“Nah, you’re just warm,” Tony disagrees, moving his hand to press to Peter’s forehead instead. He sighs and pushes himself back up to standing. “Think you’ll be okay here for a few minutes?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Peter croaks, looking a little guilty. “You really don’t have to stay. I know you’re busy…”

“Ah, see that’s the beauty of the retired stay-at-home-dad life,” Tony retorts, straightening back up to standing. “This is literally my job now.”

Before Peter has a chance to dwell too much on that response, Tony exits the room and heads to the master bathroom to locate the thermometer, and then to his lab to grab the bottle of spidey-kid-strength painkiller and fever reducer pills he and Bruce had concocted. Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to use them—he knows Peter hates the way the meds knock him on his ass and make his thoughts fuzzy and disconnected—but he figures it would be good to have them on hand just in case.

After making a quick detour through the kitchen for a can of ginger ale and some crackers, he heads back to the guest room, quickening his pace when he hears the telltale sound of retching and splashing issuing from the bathroom.

“Aw, Pete…” He winces in sympathy at the gagging boy. Peter’s nose is running and his eyes are red and wet with tears.

“Flu was going ‘round the dorm last week…” Peter moans as Tony sets the items down on the counter and wets a washcloth at the sink. “Thought I lucked out. Guess not.”

Tony places a hand on the kid’s sweaty t-shirt to start rubbing circles on his back. But he freezes instantly when he feels Peter tense up at the touch.

“You alright?” he checks, hand hovering just over the kid’s shoulder blades.

“Yeah,” Peter rasps. “Jus’... you never did that before.”

Tony recalls the handful of times he’d seen Peter sick during their time together before. Vomit has never fazed him—he’s had much too colorful of a past for that—but before he was definitely more inclined to offer a joke or a sarcastic remark than to settle for being a comforting presence. Funny what five years with a child who turns into a clingy octopus whenever she’s ill have done to him.

Then again, Morgan is in kindergarten while Peter is eighteen (or twenty-three, according to his birth certificate—it’s been over a year since Thanos and still no one seems entirely sure how to refer to the un-vanished). Maybe the Comforting Presence™ protocol is different for teenagers.

He is just about to offer to step out in order to give the kid some privacy when Peter interrupts his thoughts. “’S’nice,” he murmurs. “May does it too.”

Tony’s heart swells a bit. Then the moment is shattered when Peter suddenly sticks his head back over the toilet and starts gagging again.

“Alright, alright, get it all out…” With a small sigh, Tony lowers himself down to sit on the floor beside Peter and resumes rubbing his back.

When he’s finally finished, Tony flushes the toilet and Peter slumps back against the tub, his eyes closed. Instinctively, Tony lifts the washcloth up to wipe his messy face. Peter flinches at the contact and weakly reaches a hand up to take the cloth.

“Sorry, can do it myself,” he mumbles. “‘S’gross…”

Tony gives a quick snort. “Nah, you know what’s really gross? When I found Morgan’s secret booger stash on the side of her bedroom dresser.” He shudders dramatically.

Almost instantly, Tony regrets his comment when it triggers another round of heaving from Peter. “Sorry, kiddo,” he says as he rubs Peter’s back. “That was on me.”

This time when the spasms cease and Peter slumps back against the tub, he doesn’t bother protesting when Tony cleans his face and flushes the evidence away for him. Tony cracks open the can of ginger ale and passes it to the kid.

“Small sips, okay?” he instructs, reaching up to the counter for the thermometer.

“Can’t FRIDAY just tell you that?” Peter asks as Tony flips on the device.

“Morgan’s pediatrician convinced me this is more accurate,” Tony replies, inserting it in Peter’s ear. “Just be glad she’s graduated to the aural one now. You would not be happy about where this guy had me sticking it for the first year or so.”

“Huh?” Peter blinks at him. Then all of a sudden it seems to click and he groans, “Mr. Starrrk.”

The thermometer beeps. Still smirking, Tony lowers the device down to read the display. His grin falters for a second at the number.

“Wha’s it say?” Peter croaks.

“Nothing we can’t fix,” Tony replies briskly.

“But what’s it say?” Peter repeats. He weakly attempts to get the thermometer from Tony’s grip, but his mentor just holds the device out of his reach, lightly swatting the kid’s hand away.

Peter stares blankly at Tony for a second before glancing upwards. “What’s my temp, FRI?” he asks wearily.

“103.2,” FRIDAY reports.

Tony scoffs, finally flipping around the thermometer to show the ‘103.1’ displayed on the screen. “See? The doctor was right—manual is much better.”

Peter glances nervously at the orange pill bottle on the counter. “Does that mean I have to take the meds?” he whispers.

Tony hesitates for a second. While he knows 103 is not exactly life-threatening, it’s still a far cry from normal. “It would probably make you feel better if we could get it lower,” he reasons.

“It’s not worth it,” Peter mumbles. “They make me feel weird.”

“I wish we had something better for you, bud,” Tony says with a sigh. He considers their options for a moment. “Alright, how about we wait a while and see if it goes down on its own?” he suggests. “But if you hit 104, I’m making an executive decision.”

“Deal,” Peter croaks.

They sit there for a few more minutes, Peter taking deep breaths and looking like he might fall asleep right there against the tub. Finally, Tony’s stiff back protests. “How’s your stomach now?” he asks.

Without opening his eyes, Peter lifts a hand and makes a so-so gesture.

“Well, you seem pretty empty,” Tony goes on. “What do you say we move this party elsewhere?”

“Mm...‘kay,” Peter breathes. Tony pushes himself up to standing and helps him up, supporting him under the elbows. Peter sways on his feet. “Whoa…” he murmurs.

Tony quickly adjusts his grip to get a better hold on the kid. “You dizzy?” he asks.

“Kinda,” Peter admits. ”Just need a sec.”

When it seems like he can safely move without passing out, Tony helps him out of the bathroom and sits him on the edge of the bed.

“Let’s change your shirt, okay?” Tony says.

“Huh?” Peter glances down, for the first time seeming to notice how soaked with sweat his shirt is. “Oh. Yeah.”

Tony locates (what he hopes is) a clean t-shirt from the kid’s messy duffel bag on the floor and watches him pull it on. The simple act seems to take far more effort than usual.

“You wanna go back to sleep?” Tony offers.

Peter’s only response is a non-committal grunt. “Don’t think I can,” he admits. “Woke up at like, six. Couldn’t really fall back asleep.”

“Should we try the couch then?”

At the kid’s nod, Tony guides him out to the living room, keeping a firm grip around Peter’s upper arm for support. Morgan, Happy, and a staggering array of the five-year-old’s favorite toys are currently occupying at least two-thirds of the room’s large sectional sofa while reruns of Peppa Pig play on the TV.

“Peter!” Morgan exclaims when he comes into view. She hops down off the sofa and runs over to them while Happy stands up and starts clearing off some of the cushions to make room for Peter. “Is your tummy feeling better?” she asks. “Can you play now?”

Despite how miserable Peter looks, he manages to give her a half-smile. “Um, maybe in a little while…”

Tony takes pity on the kid and intervenes. “Peter’s not feeling that great, so how about we just watch a movie?” he suggests as he situates the teenager on the chaise section of the couch.

Morgan’s eyes light up. “Can we see Frozen 3?”

“God no,” Happy grumbles, sinking down into a nearby armchair. “That damn song with all of Olaf’s little frolicking snowball children was stuck in my head for a week last time.”

“There’s a Frozen 3 now?” Peter questions, his brow wrinkling. “There wasn’t even a Frozen 2 when I got dusted.”

“Yeah, well, global crisis or not, Disney marches on,” Tony retorts. He tugs a fuzzy blanket out of the stack in the wicker bin by the fireplace and tosses it to Peter, who gives a little grunt of thanks. “For the record, Cars 4 was better than Cars 2, but it was no Cars 3.”

“See, I think they peaked at Cars 5: European Adventure,” Happy argues.

“Nah,” Tony scoffs. “There were at least three too many roundabout jokes.”

“But Mater and Fillmore driving the Autobahn was peak comedy.”

Peter is still struggling to unfold the blanket, so Tony takes it back and shakes it open for him. “What are you in the mood for, kid?” he asks as he tucks it around Peter.

“Whatever you want,” Peter mumbles, leaning back against the pillows. He looks utterly exhausted—Tony figures he’ll be lucky to make it fifteen minutes into the movie before falling asleep. Best to go with something he’s already seen then.

“Lilo & Stitch?” he suggests.

The kids agree, Morgan with much more enthusiasm than Peter. Happy even gives his begrudging blessing on the basis that at least it’s ‘not another damn musical’.

(As if FRIDAY didn’t already have half a dozen audio recordings of him singing “Let It Go” in the shower).

Tony instructs FRIDAY to start the movie before heading back to Peter’s bathroom to gather all the supplies he left, and also snags the room’s small trash can because if there’s one thing he’s learned from Morgan, it’s that you can never be too careful.

Peter’s breathing has already evened out as the opening credits fade from the screen and Tony sinks down into the sofa beside him, and by the time Lilo explains why she can’t give Pudge a tuna fish sandwich, Peter is snoring quietly.

X

To Tony’s relief, Peter sleeps straight through the remainder of the movie, with Happy joining him somewhere around the halfway point. The moment the film ends, Morgan hops off the sofa. “I’m hungry,” she announces. “Can we have mac and cheese?”

Peter gives a low moan and stirs slightly in his sleep. Tony locks eyes with Morgan and presses a finger to his lips, tilting his head sideways in the boy’s direction.

Her eyes go wide with understanding and she tries again in a stage whisper (which honestly isn’t any better than her normal volume). “Can we have mac and cheese?”

Sighing, Tony pushes himself up to standing and prods her along to the kitchen. “Fine. But only if you eat a vegetable with it.”

Morgan grins. “Okay! I want corn.”

“Corn isn’t a real vegetable,” Tony grumbles. He steers them both into the room and moves towards the cabinet where they keep the pasta. “Pick something green.”

Her face falls for a moment. Then, just as quickly as they darkened, her eyes light up again. “Green jello!”

Tony rolls his eyes. He takes out a box of mac and cheese and then opens the fridge to take stock of what’s on hand. “You’re getting cucumber,” he says after a moment.

“I don’t like cucumber,” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tony frowns at her. “But you said it was your favorite last week.”

“I don’t like it anymore,” she says simply. “It’s gross. Can we have pudding?”

“That’s the opposite of a vegetable,” Tony argues. “So if you’re eating that, now you have to have two vegetables.”

“Um… Potato chips?” she asks hopefully.

Tony runs a hand over his face in exasperation. “No, that’s not a—”

“Hey Tony?” Happy’s voice calls from the living room. There’s an edge of worry to it. “Can you come here?”

“Yeah, coming,” Tony replies, a feeling of dread already sinking in. He heads back to the living room, Morgan tailing along behind.

The sight awaiting him causes Tony’s heart to clench. Happy is standing over Peter, urgently shaking his shoulder while the kid moans incoherently and tosses in his sleep, clearly in the midst of a nightmare.

“He’s not waking up,” Happy says worriedly.

“I got it,” Tony says, quickly closing the distance between himself and the sofa. “Hey, Pete, naptime is over,” he commands as he taps Peter’s unusually warm cheek. “C’mon, rise and shine. I’d offer to make you some breakfast, but it looks like you’re already cookin’…”

It takes a moment, but finally Peter wakes. His eyes snap open and he sits up gasping.

“There we go,” Tony soothes, rubbing a hand down Peter’s arm. “You’re alright.”

Peter blinks at him. “...Mr. Stark?” Tears are already welling up in the kid’s eyes and falling before he can stop them. His breath hitches in his throat. “Oh god…” he sobs. “I thought… I-I was trapped and...”

“It’s okay.” He sits down beside Peter on the sofa and wraps an arm around him, pulling him into his side. Even six years out from the initial snap, Tony still has nightmares—he can only imagine what Peter must be going through. “You’re okay, you’re safe, just a dream,” he assures.

“Daddy?” Morgan asks nervously. Tony glances back and sees her standing just inside the room’s threshold, lip trembling.

“Hey, munchkin,” Tony says, giving her a forced smile. “Peter’s fine. You wanna go teach Uncle Happy how to make the mac and cheese? Don’t let him add tuna.”

Eyes still locked on Peter, Morgan nods slowly.

Happy moves over to take her hand. “C’mon, kiddo,” he says as he ushers her back to the kitchen. “And don’t listen to your daddy, tuna is a great source of protein…”

The moment they leave, Tony focuses his attention back on Peter, who is just now starting to get his breathing back under control.

“‘M’sorry…” Peter chokes out. “I just thought I was trapped there, and, and…”

“It’s okay, Pete,” Tony says gently. “You’re here with me, not on Titan, not in the soul stone. You’re safe.”

“Titan?” Peter asks, his brow wrinkling. “Wha’ about Titan?”

Tony frowns. “Your nightmare? Trapped on Titan, right?”

Peter’s tears have stopped now and he’s staring at Tony with glassy eyes. “Wasn’t on Titan,” he mutters. “Nick Fury found out I was a spider and sucked me up in a giant vacuum cleaner”—his breath hitches again—“an’ I was swirlin’ around and I couldn’t get out, and someone was chasing me with a giant spray can, and there was this cat but like, a monster cat, and—”

Okay, that wasn’t what Tony expected. He places a hand on Peter’s forehead and feels the heat pouring off of him. Taking the thermometer from the coffee table, he turns it on and sticks it in Peter’s ear.

When it beeps this time, the display reads 104.2.

Tony lets out a low whistle, already starting to untangle the blanket from around Peter. “Alright... guess we’re doing the meds now.”

Peter groans, rubbing a hand at his eyes. “Mr. Stark…”

“Nope, non-negotiable,” Tony replies. He grabs the pill bottle from the coffee table along with the package of crackers. “And you have to eat something so they stay down.”

Despite his grumbling, Peter takes the crackers Tony passes him and nibbles at them between sips of ginger ale. When he’s managed to get two down, Tony gives him the pill.

“I know you’re not a fan, but it’ll help with the pain too,” Tony promises.

“Hm, that’s good…” Peter croaks. “Have a headache. And my throat hurts.”

Tony hums in sympathy. “I can imagine.”

Stepping out, he wets a washcloth with cool water in the bathroom and returns to place it over Peter’s forehead and eyes.

Immediately, Peter lets out a sigh. “That’s really nice,” he whispers.

They rest like that for a few minutes until a small voice interrupts them. “Um, Peter?”

Peter lowers the cloth and both of them glance back to see Morgan padding into the room, a stuffed corgi dog plushie tucked under one arm, an orange popsicle clutched in the other hand. Happy is standing just inside the threshold, leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed casually.

“Hey.” Peter manages a half-smile.

“I got you another juice pop,” she says, handing it over. “And this is Korg, he’ll make you feel better,” she adds as she nestles the toy into the crook of Peter’s elbow.

“Korg?” Peter questions as his fingers fumble to unwrap the popsicle.

“Thor named him,” Tony replies. “Apparently he’s got a buddy with the same name—thought it would be hilarious when he learned what this breed was called.”

“Uncle Happy said you had a scary dream,” Morgan goes on, plopping down on the couch next to the boy.

Peter’s already fever-flushed face goes a little redder. “Oh, yeah. I guess it was kinda silly.”

“You can tell Korg about it,” she says, stroking the plush dog’s head. “He can’t laugh because he’s not real.”

Seeming caught off guard by that, Peter barks out a sharp laugh which quickly morphs into coughs, but Tony is glad because it’s the first real humor he’s seen from the kid all day.

X

While Happy and Morgan eat their mac and cheese—with tuna for Happy, peas for Morgan—Tony manages to cajole Peter into eating half a can of chicken noodle before the kid nods off with the spoon halfway to his mouth.

“Sorry...” Peter murmurs as Tony dabs the spilled broth off his shirt with a wad of paper towels. “Tired.”

Tony sighs. “Yeah, that would be the meds kicking in,” he says. He checks Peter’s temperature again and sees it’s down to 102.7 now. “At least they’re working.”

“Hmm…” Peter hums sleepily.

“Let’s go ahead and move you to your real bed,” Tony decides. “It’ll be more comfortable to stretch out.”

“Hmm…” he says again.

Tony hoists the wobbly boy to his feet, supporting him under his arm. “You should probably have a shower when you wake up, but I’m thinking it’s a safety concern at the moment.”

“Hmm…”

“Okay, not in the chattiest mood, I get it…”

Tony shuffles him back to the guest room and changes his shirt again. Then he helps Peter crawl into bed and pulls the covers up around him.

“Alright underoos, take a nap,” he says softly. “I’ll keep the little troublemaker from bothering you.”

“Hmm... and Morgan too?” Peter murmurs.

“Smartass,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “Keep an eye on him, FRI,” he commands the AI. “Sleep well, kid.”

X

After fixing himself his own lunch, Tony spends the next two hours alternating between entertaining a rambunctious five-year-old and trying to catch up on his backlog of SI paperwork for Pepper. He’s sitting at the kitchen table with Morgan, watching her color a page out of her Frozen 3 coloring book, as he skims through yet another proposal on his tablet. That’s when FRIDAY’s voice comes over the speakers.

“Boss, Peter’s temperature has just reached 103 degrees. He is awake and appears to be in distress,” FRIDAY reports.

“Shit,” Tony mutters, getting to his feet.

“You said only Mommy can say that word,” Morgan complains as she colors Elsa’s hair bright purple.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just borrowing it from her,” he mutters. “I’m gonna go check on Peter, okay?”

She nods, still coloring intently. “‘Kay.”

Tony hurries out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the guest bedroom, fully prepared to talk Peter down from another nightmare. What he’s not prepared for is the sight that awaits him.

Peter is sitting up in bed, hunched over himself and trembling. Liquidy vomit is running all down his shirt and soaking into the comforter.

“Aw, bud…” Tony sighs, quickly moving over to the bed. “You really go all out, don’t you?”

Peter doesn’t even look up. His breaths are coming out far too quick, and he’s mumbling something under his breath.

Tony places a hand on his shoulder, causing Peter to jerk his head up, revealing the tear tracks trailing down his cheeks.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Tony asks in alarm.

“S-Sorry…” Peter chokes out. “I just, for a minute, I didn’t know where I was. Called for May and she didn’ answer, so thought I was at the d-dorm, but this isn’t a bunk bed, an’ then I thought I was in the stone but it’s not orange, and then I felt sick but I couldn't get up fast enough, and I just—”

(Okay so the PTSD was just a bit delayed.)

“You’re okay, you’re fine,” Tony assures, rubbing a hand up and down over the kid’s back. “You’re here at the lake house and you’re safe.”

“’M’sorry…” Peter sniffs, hanging his head. “This is dumb, maybe I should just have May come pick me up”—his nose is dripping and he sniffs again—“you shouldn’t have to take care of me when I’m being all gross”—sniff—“a-and...”

Absently, Tony pulls several tissues from the box on the nightstand and holds them to Peter’s messy face. “Blow.”

Peter goes silent and Tony freezes as the realization of what he’s just done sinks in.

Tissues still pressed to his nose, Peter raises an eyebrow to his mentor. “D-Did… Did you just tell me to blow my nose?”

Tony recovers quickly. “C’mon, it’s swallowing all that crap that’s making you feel sick in the first place,” he points out. “Now blow.”

So Peter does.

Tony lowers the used tissue back down and tosses it into the trash can. “Better?”

Looking mildly traumatized, Peter deadpans, “Iron Man just wiped my nose.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll live,” Tony dismisses him with a hand wave. Then in a more gentle tone, he asks, “Now do you really want to go home? Because I get it if you do, but I promise, I really don’t mind taking care of you. And with your healing, you’ll probably be feeling better in another day or so. There’ll still be plenty of your break left.”

Peter hesitates. “I dunno. I mean…” He shrugs. “I guess, I don’t really want to leave, but…” he trails off, sounding conflicted.

After a moment, Tony intervenes. “Okay, here’s an idea,” he suggests, as casually as he can manage. “You’re looking a little more steady now, so how about I run a load of laundry and you go take a shower? You can call May after and decide what you want to do. Then we’ll go from there.”

A look of relief instantly washes over Peter at the suggestion. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he whispers. “Thanks.”

X

During the next half hour, Tony checks on Morgan—who is contentedly playing with toys on her bedroom floor—before stripping Peter’s bed and running a load of laundry. When he reenters the guestroom, he finds Peter sitting on the bare mattress in fresh pajamas and with wet hair, looking much more relaxed.

“How’s May?” Tony asks.

Peter shrugs. “Her shift just ended. She said she’s sorry I’m sick.” He pauses for a beat. “Also said she’s not surprised, given all the all-nighters I pulled during the last two weeks and the fact I’ve been mostly living off cereal, ramen noodles, and Fig Newtons this semester.”

Tony snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, that’ll do it.” According to FRIDAY, the lukewarm water of the shower has had the added benefit of bringing Peter’s temperature down to just over 102 and he’s looking significantly better for it. “Still wanna bail on us?”

Peter shakes his head, a bit sheepish. “Not if you don’t mind me staying.”

“Nah, ‘course not,” Tony assures. “Now you wanna go see if Morgan’s up for another movie yet?”

Peter agrees and the two of them shuffle upstairs. As they approach the landing, they can hear muffled voices issuing from the little girl’s bedroom.

“Do you want some more?” Morgan’s voice floats down the hall.

“Yeah, fine. Two sugar, no cream…” a gruff voice replies. “And one of those cookies.”

“No, no you have to call it a biscuit,” she insists, her tone just bordering on a whine. “Mommy says that’s more fancy.”

“It’s a double-stuffed Oreo,” Happy grouses. “It’s a goddamn cookie.”

Peter shoots his mentor a perplexed look. Tony just gives a shrug in return as he pushes Morgan’s door open and then they both immediately pause.

Happy glances up at them from where he’s seated cross-legged on the floor beside the kiddie table. One of Pepper’s silk scarves is wrapped around his shoulders making some sort of shawl, and he’s wearing Morgan’s flowery sun hat with several of her homemade plastic beaded necklaces hanging around his neck. Meanwhile, Morgan sits in the chair to his right, pouring pretend tea from her little plastic teapot into a tiny cup.

Peter leans closer into his mentor’s side. “I think my fever went up,” he whispers. “I’m hallucinating.”

Happy shrugs. “What can I say? She makes a mean chamomile.” Pinching the minuscule handle of his teacup between his thumb and forefinger, pinky raised, he lifts it to his lips and mimes taking a sip.

“Do you guys wanna join us?” Morgan asks hopefully. She’s dressed in her yellow Princess Belle dress and her hair is sporting a loose braid that definitely wasn’t there last time Tony saw her.

Peter hesitates a second, looking into the little girl’s wide eyes. Then he lets out a small sigh. “Well, May did say I should be drinking more fluids…” he mutters as he moves towards the kiddie table, Tony following along behind.

X

When Pepper arrives home from work just past seven that evening, she finds Peter, Tony, and Happy passed out on the sofa and snoring softly amid an array of Morgan’s plush toys. The little girl sits beside them with a bowl of popcorn nestled in her lap, intently watching Frozen 3 on the room’s massive TV.

“Mommy!” Morgan greets, hopping off the sofa and running over to her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Pepper says as she scoops the five-year-old up in her arms. She gazes around the room, taking in the interesting fashion choices on display. It seems half of her accessory drawer has been commandeered to adorn the three men on the sofa.

Morgan’s full plastic tea service—now complete with Gatorade in the teacups and Saltine crackers on the plastic saucers—has been moved to the living room coffee table. Besides the dishes, the table also contains the thermometer, an empty soup bowl, and a box of tissues, and on the floor in front of the couch is a lined trash can. “What happened here?” she asks.

“Peter didn’t feel good, but Daddy took his temperature and gave him medicine and I got him juice pops,” Morgan reports. “And then we had tea and I gave Uncle Happy and Daddy makeovers.”

Pepper peers closer, noticing the two older men’s nails are painted with sparkly lilac-colored polish and their cheeks are looking a bit more glittery than normal.

“Good girl,” Pepper praises, giving her a quick kiss on her forehead. “Looks like you all took good care of each other.”

X

Fic Masterlist

For more fluffy illness, try:

Give the Kid an Oscar 

Bedridden Spider

Sick as a Bug

[whoareurl]

birthday fic for softersteve <3

i’ve been gone for ages soz but i had to pop by and give @softersteve some birthday love because i still read their blog religiously for all the soft steve content so here’s some shrinkyclinks of my own. it’s a bit light on snez but there’s plenty of whump! and i might have an idea for a part 2 but we’ll see

-

By the time spring break rolls around, Steve is practically dead on his feet. Midterms floored him and he’d spent so much time in the art building over the past two weeks that he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s developed a conditioned rage response to the hideous 80s wallpaper in his favourite workroom. So, when it comes time to pack for their week-long trip home, Bucky is the one who does most of the hard work. The lucky bastards in engineering don’t have midterms in the spring semester and the bright-eyed innocence in Bucky’s eyes kinda makes Steve want to stab him in the hand with a fork. 

“Got everything?” Bucky asks as Steve slips into the passenger seat, dosed up on Ambien and fully prepared to fall asleep as soon as they hit the interstate. It’s only a two hour drive, much shorter than what many students have to endure, but it’s still more than Steve’s stomach can handle, especially with all the stress he’s been under lately. Besides, his joints have been aching all day and the beginning of spring allergy season is making him congested so he’s happy for the option of a little time out. “All your meds?”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly, already feeling heavy-lidded. “Yes, ma.”

Bucky grins and, like the dickhead he is, plays up his role. “Are you sure you don’t need the bathroom before we leave?”

Steve slaps him and buckles himself in. “Jerk.”

“Punk,” Bucky shoots back and starts the engine. “I’m putting on my country playlist so you’re just gonna have to deal until the meds knock you out.”

Steve groans but it’s a playful groan. Despite his protests, Steve doesn’t actually hate the country songs Bucky adores. Well, not all of them. And he’s gonna be out cold in about twenty minutes so he figures it’s only fair to indulge Bucky’s garbage music taste.

“You’re the boss,” he says, firing off a mocking salute before tucking his school sweatshirt up between his neck and his shoulder and settling in for the ride.

He expects to be woken by Bucky telling him they’ve arrived so it’s with some surprise and confusion that Steve finds himself awake barely an hour later with an absolute cacophony of bells ringing in his head and a thin sheen of sweat all over his skin. He lets out a little groan and makes an aborted move to get Bucky’s attention before he remembers that he’s driving. 

“B-Buck,” he croaks out without ever really deciding to speak. 

Bucky hums gently and, when he looks over at Steve, he pales quite significantly. “Stevie? What’s wrong? You gonna be sick?”

As he’s speaking, Bucky is already turning the music off and reaching blindly behind him for a plastic bag which he thrusts into Steve’s lap as a makeshift sickbag. Steve coughs and then he can’t stop coughing. And then he thinks back to the midterms and the stress and the all-nighters and he feels a weight settle heavily on his shoulders. So, it wasn’t allergies. He’s not sure if the timing is excellent or awful since now he’s not going to be enjoying his time off but at least he won’t be missing class. Either way, this is already shaping up to be one hell of a spring cold.

“You’re running a fever,” Bucky worries as he briefly touches Steve’s forehead, glancing between Steve and the road.

“I know!” Steve snaps and feels immediately guilty. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Bucky returns and he doesn’t even sound fazed. Ambien-fuelled Steve isn’t exactly known for being a barrel of laughs. And right now, he feels like garbage. “We’re about 45 minutes out. You gonna be okay?”

Steve sighs and is about to make a half-hearted quip about not having much choice when he’s suddenly overtaken by a desperate need to sneeze.

“Heh’NGXshoo!” Steve is thrown forward with the unexpected force of it and stays there when he can feel another one building. “EhYISHHew! NXGH’huh!”

“Don’t stifle,” Bucky mumbles. Steve feels Bucky’s hand land on his back and rub along the bumps of his spine. 

Without tissues, the best Steve can do is wipe his nose on the cuff of his hoodie and sniffle the rest back. It’s, fundamentally, super fucking gross. God, he’s so cold and he cannot stop shivering. The fact that his t-shirt is soaked with cold sweat certainly isn’t helping but he’s sure as hell not going to take it off. Because that would mean having to take his hoodie off and the thought makes him want to cry. Instead, he kicks off his shoes and brings his knees up to his chest, grateful, for once in his life, that he’s small enough to curl up in Bucky’s passenger seat. 

“Services coming up,” Bucky says. Without opening his eyes, Steve knows exactly the worried expression Bucky is wearing by the tone of his voice. “I can pick up some tissues?”

Steve sniffles, feeling somewhat pitiful. Tissues would certainly be good. But they’ll get there faster if they don’t stop. It’s a dilemma but, in the end, when another violent shiver wracks through him, Bucky makes the decision for him.

“Alright. Tissues and a blanket,” he says, cranking up the heat and angling the blowers so they’re all pointed at Steve. 

When they’re parked in the service station, Bucky reaches over to push Steve’s sweaty hair off his forehead. “You don’t do anything by halves, huh, Stevie?” He says gently, leaning in to kiss Steve’s forehead. “I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything stupid?”

“Can’t. You’re taking all the stupid,” Steve mumbles, forcing a weak smile. This seems so appease Bucky somewhat and he smiles back. 

“Five minutes,” he says, and then he’s gone. 

Steve feels awful, there’s no denying it. The joint pain he’d been feeling earlier has progressed from a dull ache to something a bit more aggressive, particularly in his hips, and the congestion in his sinuses has spread down into his upper chest. He feels the tightness pulling just below his collarbones and resigns himself to the fact that this is going to be a nightmare of a week.

True to his word, Bucky returns quickly and throws a fleece blanket over Steve’s shivering body. “Sorry, pal, all they had were Yankees blankets.”

Steve makes a face. “I better not have Gerrit Cole’s face on me right now,” he grumbles, cracking one eye open to look at Bucky.

Bucky laughs, ripping open a fresh box of tissues and settling it near the gear shift. “You gonna take it off if he’s on there?”

“Fuck off,” Steve grumbles, opting not to look and live in warm, comfortable denial. 

His next breath catches deep in his chest and he curls in on himself with another rattling cough. Thankfully, he gets it under control before Bucky starts rummaging through the glove box for his inhaler. He’s actually gone one in his pocket thank you very much. Not that anybody ever bothers checking anymore. No, his reputation for leaving it at home - either out of forgetfulness or, for one memorable year in middle school, sheer stubbornness - has pretty much put an end to anybody bothering to check if he’s carrying one before they hand him another. He supposes he should be touched and, on a good day, he is. But today is not a good day. Today is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day and Steve just wants to be asleep.

“Not long now, Stevie,” Bucky says soothingly. Steve wants to be annoyed because he’s not a child but he can’t find it in himself because, damnit, Bucky’s voice is actually soothing when he talks like that. 

Fuck, he’s so in love.

~ 

By the time they’re pulling up outside Sarah Rogers’s house, Steve feels truly miserable. He’d started feeling nauseous about ten minutes ago and had opened the window for some air which only brought back his earlier shivers with a vengeance. And, to top it all off, he saw the Yankees logo on the damn blanket. Today sucked. 

“Come on, babydoll,” Bucky says as he helps Steve out of the car. 

Somewhat reluctantly, Steve abandons the traitorous blanket in the car but snags the box of tissues and lets Bucky sling his arm around his shoulders as they head up to the door. As usual, Bucky rings the doorbell to let Sarah know they’re there and then heads inside. Steve shivers involuntarily at the warmth of the house and catches a few, itchy sneezes into a fresh handful of tissues. 

His nose hasn’t stopped running since it started nearly an hour ago and all he wants is a change of clothes and a nap.

“My boys!” Sarah exclaims as she comes out of the living room to greet them, expression softening when she sees the state of her son. 

That expression is just too much for Steve who detaches himself from Bucky and wraps his mother up in a hug. He can’t smell anything through his stuffy nose but he can imagine the homely way she always smells and has to blink back tears. God, he’s a mess. He blames the Ambien more than anything. Everybody knows they fuck with you if you don’t sleep long enough.

“Aw, honey,” Sarah mutters into Steve’s hair, running a hand up and down his back. “You shouldn’t have come all this way if you weren’t feeling well. I’ll still be here in the summer.”

“Didn’t feel bad until we left,” Steve admits, somehow completely forgetting how much worse that makes his cold sound. 

Sarah frowns and holds him at arms length, looking him up and down. “That came on fast. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, Ma,” Steve starts but Bucky interrupts before he can offer any platitudes. 

“Like hell you are,” Bucky grumbles, slipping his arm around Steve’s waist. “Bed. Let’s go.”

Steve huffs, his indignation giving him the strength to stand his ground. “I’m fine.”

Bucky yawns. “Who said it was for you? I drove all the way here. I need a nap.”

“Well, you can go without me,” Steve says, unsure why exactly he’s continuing this argument. He wants to go to bed. But he’s not going because he’s told to, even if it is Bucky and Ma.

Bucky pouts. “But I sleep better with you there.”

That bastard. Steve knows what he’s doing. He’s used this tactic time and again and the worst part is that it always works. It’s working now. Steve knows he’s going to agree even before his Ma presses a kiss to his cheek and says, “Take the guest bed, boys. You’ll have more space.”

So Steve lets Bucky drag him upstairs, lets Bucky dig out a sleep shirt for him while he gets undressed, lets Bucky pull him tight against his side and tuck a hot water bottle against his back. He gives in. He cuddles up close and drifts off tracing the curve of Bucky’s hip bone with his fingers. 

Bucky’s so beautiful. Steve doesn’t know how he got so lucky. 

“Marry me,” he whispers as he finally drops off the edge of the cliff into sleep.

part two

[paint-pilot]

shit it’s been a second, guess it’s time to update again

edit: holy christ this is long, i’m gonna readmore it. tl:dr tyler has many badweird feelings but is getting through it. fun body changes, including hair growth and an unexpectedly nice voice. surgery and legal matters are Annoying. tw for menstruation

it is truly bizarre to think that i’ll have been five months on t in a little under two weeks. another month after that and it’s half a year. it’s uhh...weird. quarantine has just made this all feel weird. it’s like i fast-forwarded through this whole journey i was supposed to go on i guess? like i got randomly torn out of my life one day in march with no warning and then just as suddenly got spat out in august with a new life - new name, new face, new major, new identity - and no transitional period whatsoever. my classmates, my professors, my students, they all have only known me as tyler. and only ever will know me as tyler. and that’s great! it’s great, and i’m truly just blown away by how markedly easy it’s been and how weirdly good my timing was in transitioning. but it almost feels like i’m still a ways behind everyone else, i guess. i’ve spent so much of my life hiding, and lying through my teeth, and covering my ass every second of every day to protect myself, and i don’t have to do that anymore but the instinct is 100% still there and that honestly doesn’t feel good. of course i’m not making any of it up - i’m happier now than i’ve ever been, and i know i’m making the right choice - but it still persistently keeps feeling that way.

it’s just difficult, i think, to balance wanting to be read as male (and, to a large extent, wanting to keep my transness hidden both for safety reasons and so people don’t start treating me differently) and finding it difficult to hide this truly massive life change that, like, four people are really seeing anything of. and y’all, i guess, lol. it’s one thing to talk about all this in therapy, but it’s another entirely to just be able to share it with strangers and not worry about it being weird.

i was writing this with the intent of it being a mostly happy update but i guess there is some negativity boiling up so. gotta be honest, i guess? there’s a lot of fun trauma stuff i’ve been going through lately that i won’t get into but it’s culminated with this bullshit in this really fun way where my mom gets upset because i get kind of uncomfortable when she shows me childhood photos or tells stories about me as a little kid and then i just break down for reasons i really can’t discern. i’m going to try and articulate this, and who knows how messy it’s going to get, so i apologize if it gets kind of incoherent from here on out. as far as i can tell the root thing that she really gets upset about is that i’ve “thrown away” my whole previous identity. like, not a direct quote, but “you can’t just pretend [deadname] never existed. because she did, for a long time.” and...sure, i guess. i know this has been hard on my mom. i know she was raised in a conservative family, and while she has worked hard to adopt an accepting and open mindset she still doesn’t 100% grasp all of it and will make mistakes. i’ve made my peace with that. and yet. it’s not so much, really, that i was this other person and then became tyler, y’know? tyler did not appear suddenly two years ago where she once stood. tyler put on a mask, even before he knew he was tyler, because tyler was scared and ashamed but people seemed to like her and, for a time, she was an easy person to be. and i hated her. that is so fucking scary for me to say, and i’m not sure i’ve admitted that until literally right this second, but i did. not because she was a bad person. because she had a voice and a face and a body that i hated. because people saw her and assumed they knew me. because even she had many faces, because there was no real base or identity to her, just traits designed to paint a pretty picture and make people like her. because i knew, when i finally threw her away, people would miss her. compare me to her. expect me to be like her.

so i don’t know. i don’t have a satisfying way to wrap this up, because i honestly don’t know how to face this because i know it is absolutely not just the trans thing that created this situation. i’m kinda warring with myself, because i do kinda want to go back through this blog and delete photos of myself with long hair and whatever (because jesus, i’ve had this thing since i was like 14) but i genuinely don’t know if that’s healthy. i know i’m going back on my bullshit, fretting this way and that over whether something is “healthy” as though that’s an objective term without considering what’s going to make me happy, but honestly? i don’t know anymore. i keep sensing the mental block - the swathes of my childhood that i cannot recall, just vague, constant unease - and i don’t really know if i want to dig into all of that and learn what lies underneath because i’m sort of afraid of it. like i said, i’m happy now, happier than i’ve ever been, and i’d sort of like to just leave it like that. but i guess the length and tone of this post might argue otherwise.

anyways. anyways. enough mental health therapy, more actual hormone therapy updates since that’s what this goddamn thing is supposed to be i think? i’m finally starting to grow some noticeable hairs - my chin hair is coming back after my mom made me shave it before i left for school lol, as are a handful of mustache/lower lip/sideburn hairs. i keep feeling phantom bugs on my legs/feet and i’ve only just now recognized that that’s just leg hairs brushing against places i’m not used to. my appetite has picked up like absolute hell again, too, so i don’t know if i’m just having a metabolic spurt or what. also, i’ve started bruising more? idk what the hell that’s about - i fucking never bruise unless i’ve been hit Hard, and i kind of assumed testosterone would make you less likely to bruise, but then that’s probably just not related to the hormones at all. i was gonna put this in the tags but seeing as this post is already so long i might as well put a readmore and just put this here lol: my period is late, like, four days late, which is exceedingly unusual for me and might mean i’m finally done. or almost done. fingers crossed.

my voice has started to settle, it seems like. i popped out an e2 yesterday, which is Sick, but i’m not as focused on that anymore as i am on the actual quality of my tone. which is...good? i’m not just a baritone, i’m kind of a good one, at least it seems like. i’m really working right now on just getting familiar with my instrument - i’m second-guessing my pitch sensitivity a lot, but i think i really just need to drill and practice until everything starts feeling like second nature again. but since the musical didn’t happen for me, my coach wants to enter me in a classical solo competition next spring. so...no more retirement from competitive singing. i’m back! and thank god, because i’m starting to go crazy without being in musical work lol.

jesus fuck, i have a lot to say. i should probably split this into two posts but i don’t care. i am frustrated; i tried to get an appointment with a pro bono legal program for a name change, but it happened today and i wasn’t invited so apparently i’m on my own. and i’m frustrated. i’m trying to look at internships and shit for next summer, but i kind of can’t apply right now because my legal name and sex don’t line up with my presentation, and i don’t really know how easy it is to get away with that in this day and age and especially in my field. genuinely, if anyone has any advice, i’d appreciate it. i don’t know how long this will take, i don’t know what the requirements are, i don’t know if i’m better off just applying now and hoping they don’t eliminate me before ever getting me an interview. and, of course, i’m working on getting consultations for top surgery, but i keep catching myself procrastinating that. which seems weird, but listen. i’ve said it before but i have to emphasize, i am capital-t Terrified of getting this surgery. i know i need to, i know it will make things better for me, i know now is the time, i know i hate binding and can’t really get away with not doing so, but jesus fuck i am so frightened of anesthesia it’s not even funny. but i guess i’m mostly just calling myself out here and telling myself to quit being a big baby, schedule the thing, and give myself a few months to prepare.

anyway. that’s all i have to say. i’d apologize for ranting, but honestly...i dunno. i know at the start of all this a handful of you requested these updates, and i have to imagine it’s because at least some of you are transitioning, are thinking of doing so, or know someone who is or will be soon. and i just hope someone out there can at least relate, because there honestly just aren’t a lot of comparable life changes out there. or maybe this is just therapeutic for me, that’s fine too.

i have two midterms next week i should be studying for. i should do that.

[thequeenofcronuts]

Uncertainties - Tales of the Past Flashback 1

Tales of the Past Flashback 1 - Flashback to the group during Spring Term at USC

AU Summary - Career life is busy for a group of six friends when they meet a captivating woman with a beautiful soul. New friendships are forged and new romances revealed. All the while hearts are torn and closets are cleared of skeletons. True love always wins in the end, right?

AU Warnings - This Stand Alone will include the following 18+ subjects: Language, NS*W, Verbal Abuse, and Abortion. If ANY of these subjects will cause pain or hardship in reading, please skip reading Uncertainties. That being said, each chapter will include its own specific warnings.

AU Uncertainties Pairings and Characters: Drake x Riley /  Liam x Riley  /  Liam x Olivia  / Drake x Olivia / Maxwell x Savannah, including Hana, and Madeleine, and OCs

Tags @client-327 @dcbbw @carabeth @drakesensworld @purplegreyshrimp

Tales of the Past Flashback 1 Summary - Take a look back at memories the group share from their Spring Term, Freshman Year at the University of South California 

Tales of the Past Flashback 1 Warnings - NS*W, Language 18+. By reading this you consent that you are 18+

Chapter Word Count: 5,000 give or take

**All characters from the Choices Book: The Royal Romance are owned by Pixelberry Studios (Any other characters are the product of my brain…I probably should apologize now. 🙃😉)

Olivia and Liam are sitting out on the grass in the quad, soaking in the sunshine, while studying for their Spring midterms. Well, she's studying for her last exam while Liam is writing an essay. “I can't fucking believe for a History course your midterm is not an exam but writing an essay.” Liam gives her a wry smile. “Not my fault you chose to take Hell- manities, aka Humanities, this semester. You know that prof’s intention is to make as many of his students fail as he can.” Olivia scoffs. “My guess is the old man takes it out on us because he’s not getting any. His cringe worthiness is like a 20 out of 10, while his sexual attraction is so low it can't even be measured. Liam is lost in a sea of laughter while he falls backward onto the grass. “True enough, Olivia. From what I’ve heard from Drake he hates the prof as much as you do.” “Walker is a dumb ass, but for once he is correct in his description of the prof as the ‘Professor of Rapacious Evil’. I would feel sorry for the prof’s wife, but I don't have it in me. Her choice after all.” Liam looks up at the blue sky. “You know Olivia, we really can be big assholes.” “Meh,” Olivia shrugs, “It’s all apart of the college experience.”

It's quiet between them for awhile, campus life swirling around them, when finally Olivia clears her throat causing Liam to look up into her deep emerald eyes. “So Liam. I kinda need to tell you something and I’m not sure how you’ll react.” She takes a breath. “During the Midterm party at your guy’s frat house I slept with someone.” She looks trying to read his expression but gets nothing. After a moment Liam does a very tiny shrug. “Well I’m not saying I’m thrilled, but we have agreed not to be exclusive, and we’ve only been together since a few days before Thanksgiving Break. And come on, Olivia, it was a frat party after all.” Liam quirks a brow and chuckles, but she lowers her eyes. “Well, there's a bit more. The rest of the story is it was with Drake. I really fucked up Liam.” She pauses. “Ok, maybe that was the wrong phrase to use. Anyway Liam, how pissed are you?” Liam does swallow hard before answering, “Ok, so now I’m really beyond not thrilled at this point, but I know you two were…active most of last semester.” He looks back up the sky for a minute.

“Olivia, the six of us have only known each other since the beginning of the year, which obviously isn't that long, yet we all have become rather close quickly. We do spend all of our free time together. Hell, I think Maxwell and Savannah may actually be very serious already. If we were in a different stage in our relationship then this conversation is quite different. Right now you're not leading me on and Drake and I aren't in some backstabbing competition.” Liam leans up and gives her a sweet kiss on the cheek. She can finally look him in the eyes. “You know Liam, I’ve honestly come to hate him over these last couple months. He's an egotistical jerk who acts like it pains him to be around, I guess, anything.” 

She looks out over the quad with a frown on her face. “I can see your point,” Liam lays back on the ground again as he plucks a blade of grass turning it over in his fingers, “but as Maxwell and I are getting to know him more it seems that it might not be his ego so much that holds him back. There may be something else.” She gives him an over exaggerated sigh. “Well think what you want, I’ll just keep on hating him, a lot.” He laughs at her matter of fact tone. “What's so funny over there, Rys?” “Olivia, you find so much joy in pushing all of Drake's buttons. You really are a certain brand of evil when it comes to him, and if I wasn't getting to know you better, I’d be scared.” She flops down on the grass next to him and takes his hand, he chuckles as their eyes meet and gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “"No matter, Liam, I blame what happened during party on alcohol. Lots, and lots of alcohol.”

A few days later Olivia and Liam are in the dining halll for lunch. “Olivia,” Liam said over the chatter of the dining hall. “The Humanities exam is only three days away. You're going to have to put your pride aside and ask him to help you study for this exam. Only you two, out of the six of us, are in Humanities this semester. It could be, ummmm, let me think a moment.” he shoots her a devilish grin. “It could be a very….cathartic experience for you and this certain Humanities classmate.” As he finishes her eyes spit daggers into his soul and she hisses, “You know, you’ve been finding way too much joy in toying with me about all this.” Liam cocks his head, “Well, my minx, can you blame me? You have to admit we both benefit immensely when you’re all riled up.” He wiggles his brows at her. “Fine. Yes it is hot and amazing when I’m riled up.” He kisses her with a growl while those around their table look up and stare. “It seems, Liam, we agree on our stance when it comes to PDA, but back to the matter at hand. It's not all about pride in needing help for the exam. Around our small group of friends he’s using innuendo as his ammo to push my buttons all the time now, and it sucks.” With her arms crossed, and jaw clenched she looks expectedly at Liam for his response. “Well Olivia, what can I say? Karma’s a bitch. Look, just study together and pass your exam, okay. You need your GPA this semester to be better than last, or my little minx won't still be on campus with me Sophomore year.” His kisses her on the cheek and spots Drake, he waves him over.

“Hey Drake, we were just talking about you. Come on over and sit with us.” Olivia kicks Liam hard under table as Drake looks at them both, shrugging, while turning his eyes to Olivia menacingly.  “Heh, sure, thanks. So what's up with you two on this fine afternoon?” Drake asks as he sits. Liam glances at Olivia out of the corner of his eye as he answers, “Oh not much. We’re just sitting hear eating lunch and talking about midterms, especially Olivia's Humanities exam.” She would have Liam incinerated into ash that very second, just by one look, if at all possible. “Thank god all I have left that Hell-manities exam.” Drake looks at the textbook next to him and winces.

“Yeah, Olivia was talking about needing a study partner for that one, thinking two classmates getting ready for the exam would help out both.” Her eyes bore into Liam while Drake gives him a smirk as he replies, “Why the hell not? It's going to be a bitch of an exam, so sharing notes sounds good. My night class tomorrow doesn't get out until after the library and Student Union close. We can study in the lounge of our frat house. Those sorority girls in your house can't ever stop squealing or squeeing or whatever the hell you all call it.” Drake takes a bite of his burger and Liam slaps him on his shoulder. “Sounds like you and Olivia have a plan. Well, we’re off. See you later Drake.” When Liam and Olivia reach her sorority house she grabs him by the arm yanking him to halt. “So help me Liam, if you weren't so sexy and good in bed I’d wrap my hands around your neck and choke you hard right here.” Liam chuckles. “Oh Olivia, promises, promises.

The next night she is sitting in the lounge of the guy’s frat house simmering heading quickly into full on fuming. All the pool tables are being used by drunken guys and girls, liquor flowing, and couples are making out everywhere. Included Maxwell and Savannah which causes Olivia to visibly cringe. Finally Drake shows up finishing off some fries. “You went on a stroll for food after class while I’ve been sitting here in an ocean of morons?!” “Hey, the body and brain need fuel. So, shall we?” “Fine,” she sighs. “Let's just get this over with as fast as possible.” “Well, well, Olivia,” he pauses for effect, “I’ve never heard you say that to me, ever.” He raises an eyebrow and smirks. ‘I so want to slap you right now’. She stands to leave when she remembers, ‘I have to pass this exam, it’s almost fifty percent of the entire semester grade. Fuck.’ “Walker, just shut the fuck up and study.” 

With that she takes a seat again while they pull out their notes. Not long after Olivia realizes that Drake is actually smarter than she had originally pegged him to be. Definitely takes better, more detailed notes. ‘Shit, I really am going to need his damn notes and explanations for this exam.’ After about a half an hour later they can't even hear each other thanks to the college night life buzzing around them.  So Drake nods to upstairs with Olivia shaking her head vehemently. ‘But…Shit, I really need to pass this course. My GPA has to be better to stay in the Sorority House next year. Fuck.’ They reach Drake's room. “Door.stays.open. Walker.” Drake throws his hands up in surrender. “That was my plan.”

Studying for about forty-minutes the antics out in the hall are just as bad as they are downstairs. Drake gets up to shut the door but before he latches it closed he turns to her, “Would you rather leave?” ‘I so hate myself right now.’ “No. I’ve noticed how shit my notes are.” He shuts the door and she eyes his every move suspiciously. “For gods sake I’m not a jackoff. I never have nor ever will take advantage or force something on anyone. You even told me you remember your ‘yes’ this past party.” Drake says wholeheartedly meaning it all,  and she knows it's true. He wouldn't ever. “I know it, Drake.” But he does decide, however, to use this time to pay her back for the comment she made about him yesterday loudly in the crowded Student Union. “You just forgot I know how act appropriately with ladies because you never, ever told me ‘no’. You only screamed ‘yes’.” Her jaw clamped. “Is it not true, Miss?” ‘Oh I hate him.’ “That was low. I really do hate you Drake Walker. Actually I hate you even more.” “Guess that answers my question.” ‘After what she had said yesterday and the look on her face right now, yep. Worth it.’

She takes a few minutes to string together sentences of all curse words she can think up directing them at him, then sits back down. ‘Oh so totally worth it. Epic win. Put one the scoreboard board far Drake Walker.’ It takes her a bit, but she finally listens as he describes various art techniques and their major time periods. ‘How does remember all this?!’ “When in the nine hells did you actually get smart, Walker?” It has to be some sort of accident. Did you get your head pounded by another frat guy and it resulted in this miracle?!” Seething, “I’m not just a dumb piece of shit, you know Olivia!” ‘Hmmm, his intelligence, that was a fun button to push. I’ll remember that one.’ “Oh just shut up Olivia. Let's finish the art section and skip the western culture section. Then you can show yourself out.” “Fine.” She yelled. “Fine.” He yelled back. And before either knew it their lips were crashing together with Olivia’s hands grasping his shaggy brown hair. Like so many times before he slid her onto his lap first, as their tongues danced, his hands sliding up her thighs landing on her waist. And like every time before he stopped to asked her. And like every time before she answered with a yes.

He trails kisses from her shoulder blade, up her neck, across her jaw and their lips met again. She runs her tongue along his bottom lip, and as he opens his mouth his hands started to wander under her shirt moving up her stomach going up to… and then she goes tense and completely froze. Drake immediately stops looking at her for an answer. ‘I will not be some girl flitting between men. Especially when I actually care about a really good man. Done. Over.’ “No more. Not tonight, not ever Walker. I’m done. So many months wasted on you. Those months were all about living the freedom of college in my first semester. But that's it. That's all it was and ever will be, nothing.” Olivia gets up and gathers her things. ‘Fuck. Ouch Olivia. That was all it was? Damn.’ “Whatever Olivia. Whatever makes yourself feel better. Funny how it meant nothing, oh how many months later!” Drake is yelling while Olivia walks to the door. With her hand on the door nob she looks back. “What the hell has been wrong with me all these months.” ‘Oh no, you don't get walk out the door with that being the last words.’ Drake shrugs. “Great sex is great sex, friends with benefits?” They both look at each other for a long time, having an unspoken escalating argument. Finally Drake spits out, “See you Friday night when the group celebrates the end of midterms.” Olivia rubs her temples and answers in complete frustration. “Yes. See you then. We both care about all of our friends, Drake.” ‘Unfortunately, Walker, you have to be there.’ One last glare at each other. “But you and I, Drake, we will never be friends.” ‘Couldn't agree more.’ “Neither one of us would want to. Now get out of my room.” Olivia stomps out and slams the door.

As soon as she's out of Drake's room she heads down the hall to Liam's and pounds on the door. He opens it and she shoves him hard back into the room. He can't help but laugh at the look on her face. “I take it the study session went well?” Not saying a word she drops her things to the floor and slams the door shut. Liam quirks an eyebrow and before he can move she pushes him down on the bed crawling on top of him, straddling him as she immediately starts to unbutton his shirt tugging on it until she unfastens the last button. Liam sits up to shrug it off while Olivia grabs the hem of his undershirt pulling it off before he's even gotten the first shirt off. She pushes him back down, while he starts to speak, “Trust me, I’m not complaining but wh-“ Her lips are on his before he can finish. Her nails dig into his shoulders while his tongue runs over her bottom lip. She invites him in, soon tongues wrestling for dominance. Liam grabs her ass squeezing hard enough she yelps into his mouth. He loves that. His hands travel slowly up her hips, up her stomach and cup her breast while she begins to grind her hips on his. She pulls herself back up and throws her shirt to ground while he unfastens her bra which hits the ground as well.

Liam lavishes one breast nibbling and sucking on its bud until it's a hard peak, while he massages and twists the other. A moan rolls off her lips and he takes it as a sign to move to her other breast. Her taste drives him to wanting so.much.more. In an instant Liam is making quick work of the button and zipper of her jeans, sliding a hand down her pants rubbing her folds trough her panties. “You are so fucking wet for me.” Her eyes meet his as she responds in authoritative tone, “Up now. Time to get these pants off.” They stand and he slides her jeans and panties down while she uses his shoulder for balance kicking them off. She unbuttons and unzips his jeans then stands back, watching him pull them and his boxer briefs off.

Liam’s eyes rake her up and down, “Damn you're sexy. I can never get tired of seeing you like this.” Olivia just gives him a wicked grin as she slowly drops to her knees in front of him placing her hand around his hardened length, stroking it a few times before taking him into her mouth. “Shit.” Liam's head falls back as her tongue circles around his tip tasting the little bit that's already escaped him. He grabs a hold of her hair as her lips firmly surround him while moving him in and out. She lets out a deep moan against him as she moves. “Fuck, babe!” Liam begins to buck his hips while she takes him in fully. He feels himself hitting the back of her throat, while in his mind cursing and thanking at the time. ‘Not going to make it much longer if she doesn't stop this.’ He looks down and barely gets out with a husky voice. “Olivia, I,” he moans “You have to stop.” She looks up at him trough hooded eyes and he knows she isn't planning on stopping.

He gently starts pulling her back. She sighs against him one last time and lets go with a pop. “Liam, if you're stopping me from this you better do one hell of a job.” He whispers back, “I accept your challenge.” He grabs a condom while Olivia makes the decision to rest on her knees with her elbows down on the mattress. Liam turns and lets out a primal growl as his tongue meets her folds. Her breath hitches as he licks up to her nub while pushing a finger into her dripping wetness. He nibbles the sensitive spot with gentle pressure and circles it with his tongue. He slides in a second finger and moves them both back and forth. “Shit Liam, more! Now!” He sucks her harder as his slides in the third finger curling them just right reaching that spot which makes her knees weak. She arches her back and pushes herself into him. “Fuck! I’m…C…“ She yells his name and it's the best sound in his life. He gives her a moment while rubbing soft circles on her back. “Enjoy, a breath for a minute baby. We’re not finished.”

Waiting he licks and sucks his fingers clean as he strokes himself a few times before grabbing her hips sliding in his solid length. He waits a second as they adjust saying each other's name then he immediately starts with a hard thrust. He hears her throaty voice, “My, my. Impatient aren't we?” That’s all it takes for him to grab her hips firmly and thrust harder rocking back and forth as she moans his name over and over. They hit their rhythm and she pants “Harder Liam! Give me hard now! I need more of you!” ‘Shit, I’m barely hanging on as it is.’ Their skin slaps together as he reaches one hand around to wet his finger drawing tantalizing circles around her nub as he continues to thrust harder and harder. “Fuck Liam! Just…a…little…more...I’m, I’m-“ he begins to feel her grip around him start to tighten. “Liam, oh fuck. YES!” He sloppily thrusts twice more while she completely unravels. He stops holding himself back finding his own release. He smirks proudly as Olivia screams his name once more while they both ride out their waves of passion.

Soon they are falling onto the bed. Olivia grabs him close and lays her head on his chest as they work to slower their breaths while laying in their euphoria. “So, did I do one hell of a job? Enough to win your challenge?” Liam chuckles kissing the top of her head. “My god yes! I’ll happily lose that challenge to mind blowing sex any day. But, I don't lose other challenges.” He laughs as she kisses his chest and begins mindlessly running circles around his strong abs, while he looks at the ceiling twirling a piece of her long vibrant red hair around his fingers. Suddenly Olivia remembers the words she heard earlier “…Great sex is great sex. Friends with benefits?…” She raises to an elbow looking deep into Liam’s crystal sea blue eyes. “You know Liam, mind blowing is far superior to great.” He looks at her completely confused. “Just trust me here, babe. Mind blowing is so fucking superior to just great.” She smirks as she lays back down again resting her head on his chest. “Liam” she says into his chest with a kiss. “Yes babe?” “I think we should start seeing each other exclusively.” A few seconds later he kisses the top of her head and she can feel his smile. “Mmmmm, I like this decision of yours. A lot.”

A few weeks later after Spring Break, Maxwell, Olivia, and Drake are sitting in the Student Union waiting for Hana, Savannah, and Liam to show for their night out to celebrate the group’s reunion. While hanging out there Maxwell tilts his head to Olivia and wiggles his eyebrows, “I hear you and Liam are officially exclusive. Awesomeness!!! Now you guys can double with me and Savannah!” Olivia rolls eyes and flatly responds, “Oh, yay.” Maxwell smiles, “I know, right? It will be epic!” Drake sits back somewhat amused by the interaction. “Yeah, you four should start planning your first double date tonight.” Then he mumbles something about someone under his breath as quietly as he can, but Olivia notices. “Why Drake, are you jealous?” He is completely unfazed knowing she's just trying to push his buttons. Maxwell, on the other hand, grins from ear to ear. “Oh trust me Olivia, and let me assure you, he is most certainly not jealous. If Drake was actually under any kind of spell of your’s it's been bro-“ Drake snaps at him, “Beaumont! Why the hell are we celebrating tonight being back here for just more classes? Only you would think of something so ridiculous.” Maxwell looks over shaking his head, “This is about the six of us being back together after spring break, man. We gotta catch up.” Drake tilts his head backwards and shuts his eyes. “It was only a little over a week for gods sake.”

Olivia catches the extra sour tone in Drake’s voice. “I didn't know you could get any grumpier, Walker. What exactly is your extra problem? Are you going to continue to be such an ass all night? Staying away while radiating your extra bit of chilly venom.” Drake doesn't answer, but yet again Maxwell does. “He’s just pissed on an missed opportunity. Possibly a chance of a lifetime.” Maxwell is so focused on Olivia he doesn't register the rising anger on Drake’s face. “Ok, Olivia, so check this out. So you know how Drake stayed here over break and I got back a little earlier than the rest of you? We were in one of campus books stores, you know this campus has way too many all over the-,” “Focus Maxwell, and get this Walker story over with as fast as possible.” Olivia crosses her arms. ‘Ok, focusing and speed talking initiated. So me and Drake we’re chilling out in the book store when I see my old pal here intently staring off to something a few aisles over. I follow his line of sight and saw what he was checking out. His eyes were completely locked on this girl. I mean not blinking, breath hitching sort of thing. Anyway, while we all know that I have the lady love of my life, I’ll admit she was quite stunning. Long raven black hair, porcelain white skin, and these really deep piercing blue eyes. Drake's feet were glued to the floor when she moved to us and starts to look at the books next to him. I of course step out of the way, but not Drake here, he still can't move. So he’s standing like crazy still as she looks up to him to say excuse me or probably something like that, except she stops and stares at him. Complete radio silence. Eventually, I clear my throat and they snap out of their trance while I smoothly walk away, as you know how I do. So I buy my stuff and head outside to wait for Drake. While waiting I see the girl walkout with this huge smile and this dreamy look in those piercing blues. Suddenly, though, she stops in her tracks looking back to the store bewildered. I thought maybe she just forgot something, and I didn't even really think much about it as she leaves. She's gone when Drake walks out and I see he has nothing in his hands, totally forgotten to get what he needed to buy. Except Drake had a gigantic smile on his face. For real, Olivia, I had no idea a shit-eating grin was possible for our guy here. I figure he at least he found something in there, even if he forgot what he needed to buy.” Maxwell winks, “So I asked him to spill. And get this Olivia, come to find out he was so lost in her beauty he totally choked, like in the worst way. No name, no phone number, no dorm or sorority information. He was so lost in loveydovey-land all functioning abilities went out of his mind. He’s been extra grumpy, brooding, and not going anywhere or talking anyone since. He’s got it bad for her, but we have no idea who she is. But he did tell me that they’d talked the whole time after I left, feeling like there was mutual interest, and from what I saw when she walked out that store I’d completely agree. I’m a believer in love at first sight, enter my lady love into the story again, but if this girl had just stood there like a minute longer or if he had walked out a minute sooner, bam. He’d have a different story to tell right now.”

Drake was sitting with arms crossed, jaw clenched, and his lips pressed in a hard thin line. Finally he spoke, “You know I’ve actually been sitting here the whole time Maxwell. And furthermore, Beaumont, do you ever take a breath when talking, or even better yet, do you ever shut the fuck up?!” Olivia looks at Drake shaking her head. “Way to go dipshit. Try to find her again on a campus with around 20,000 undergrads, and that doesn't account for the number of graduate students either. Good luck with what sounds like the screwup of lifetime. She's the one that got away before you were close enough for her to get away.” Maxwell cuts in with, “Well, with what I saw, I’d venture to say he stared long enough he could definitely pick her out of a lineup, or better yet work with one of those sketch artist for a ‘Have you seen this girl?’ poster.” Olivia can't stop herself, doubled over in wild laughter, while Drake stands up with a force so intense the big bulky armchair he was sitting in moved a bit across the floor. Then shoving his hands in his pockets he picks a wall to sulk against.

Finally Liam, Savannah, and Hana show up; along with another girl. Hugs and kisses were given all around, except for Drake. They all felt an aura of something between rage, frustration, and “leave me the hell alone” radiating strongly off him. Hana introduced everyone to Allison, who she was set up with for a blind date over break. With everyone finally there Maxwell directs the group onward to his club of choice, and once there the couples hit the dance floor as Drake finds a table in a corner for the night. He never was one that went out of his way to dance, but he definitely would with any girl that caught is eye. Uncharacteristically, though, this night he wasn't looking for any random girls to dancing with, and he wasn't there too long before he let his friends know he was heading back to campus calling it a night. Which of course Olivia took advantage of and starting to call him “grandpa” at every chance she got everyday afte

A few months later, Spring Term is finished, bringing the group the end of their Freshman year. They all decide to stay on campus together for the Summer Semester to have a stellar time doing everything college kids can think up to do. And damn did they make the most of their freedom. Liam and Olivia had taken a short trip right after exams were over, but back in a few days. Maxwell and Savannah basically lived together most of the summer, while Liam and Olivia out right lived with each other. Hana and Allison were adorable together and Alli fit in with the group extremely well. Most surprising to everyone though was that Liam and Olivia actually enjoyed spending time with Maxwell and Savannah. Savannah was so much fun and just lovely, but if Maxwell were to survive the summer, Olivia could only take meeting up with them in small doses.

Drake, however, chose to take a course over the summer which everyone else thought was crazy, but it kept him busy. With his course work he wasn't around the group as much, but he did join them for their antics when he could. They all noticed, though, that he hadn't gotten out of that funk he’d been in since spring break; but honestly he had always been the curmudgeon of the group.

And like that, Sophomore Year found them.

[officialcolumbiauniversity]

48 Hours In The Life

Now that I’ve settled into a routine for school, well into my second month of sophomore year, I’d like to bring to you, inspired by @college-advice, 48 Hours In the Life of a Columbia Student. While my journal entries do indeed tell what I’m doing every few days or so, I tend to focus on particularly notable things that happened that day. This serves to delineate every single thing that happens on a typical Monday and Tuesday, the good, the bad, the dreary, and the absolutely typical aspects of my life here. And because classes are twice a week, Mondays and Tuesdays are a good impression of my whole week. So, let’s start with Monday.

Monday

7:00 AM--I wake up. I set an alarm across my room to wake me up at 7 AM sharp, every day, in case I want to work out that day. Usually my first appointment of the day is never before 10 AM, so 7 always gives me ample time to shower when I get back. I take long showers.

9:30 AM--I wake up. I decided to not go to the gym today so I fell back asleep.

10:30 AM--I get out of bed after having quite literally spent an hour on my phone. Not healthy, I know, but it’s quite comforting just scrolling through Facebook videos, even if I’m not actually watching them.

I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and wash my face. I have to bring a hand towel bc my dorm doesn’t have hand dryers OR paper towels.

11:30 AM--After having wasted the majority of this last hour eating cereal I got from JJ’s for breakfast and watching Youtube videos, I’m out the door to catch the 1 train. I’ve got work today!

11:45 AM--I arrive at work. Being a bit early to work means I get to see who the tour guides are for the 12 PM tour time, as well as who’s working the desk and how many people came in for a tour today. So far this year, no more than 50 people have ever collectively showed up for one tour on any day other than Fridays.

Work is always the highlight of my week. I get to talk to a coworker, help visitors out, and do homework. I even get to eat at desk sometimes. Today my supervisor calls me into her office so I can explain my timesheet, and we sort things out. I don’t get in any trouble. Coworker (who honestly deserves a better nickname on this blog) and I talk about relationship drama--not that there is much. He’s dating a guy from Juilliard and together they are unstoppable.

3:00 PM--I notice that I forgot to get a substantial lunch. I would normally get a sandwich from Uris deli because it’s so close, but I just ran out of Dining Dollars, so I head to JJ’s (again) and grab an omelette and some fries.

5:00 PM--The office closes for the day. However, Coworker and I are assigned to give an after-hours tour to some business execs. Idk. But we wait.

5:30 PM--We’re supposed to meet them now but they’re nowhere to be found. Turns out they’re still upstairs. Which is a problem because I originally thought this tour wouldn’t go past 6, bc I have class. Orgo, to be specific.

6:00 PM--The tour starts. I’m def skipping orgo. #putting all this on my timesheet for #more pay~

6:40 PM--The tour’s about to end, and Coworker and I are co-leading. This last stop was Havemeyer actually, so after the stop ends I leave Coworker to wrap up the tour as I book it to class, thirty minutes late.

7:25 PM--Class ends. I wasn’t paying any attention and kind of regret it. But it was because I was trying to study for the quiz in half an hour.

7:50 PM--I arrive early to recitation after chilling in the NoCo library on my phone. For some reason these two kids are always here in class before me.

8:10 PM--Recitation starts and I’m already wishing it was over. But the quiz goes smoothly, and afterwards the TA clarifies some stuff and then starts teaching us the most recent chapter again. Even though it’s redundant I love it because she explains things much more succinctly than the professor does. It’s like the sparknotes of lecture.

9:00 PM--We out. The lampposts on campus make me feel oddly alone even though it’s only 9 PM, but not lonely in any way. It gives me the impression that the night has already come to an end, and it takes real effort to go back to studying for tomorrow instead of just turning in.

9:20 PM--Back home I quickly grab my charger and study materials before the impulse to sleep gets any larger. Thankfully Golden has already texted me agreeing to meet at Butler library soon, so I have someone to not disappoint. We head into Butler and start working.

Today I’ve got two music theory assignments to finish, a response to a book to write for CC, and a little advance studying for my chem midterm next week to get started on. I decide to put off the MT assignments for tomorrow, work on Tumblr posts, and do a little bit of chem.

12:00 AM--I’m still an old man at heart so I say goodnight to Golden (she’ll be up until about 5 AM), head home for the last time, take a shower, brush my teeth, and fall asleep. The last things I do before bed is write about my day and drink a glass of water. I’ve already turned on my alarm for 7 AM.

Tuesday

7 AM--I’m up.

8 AM--I’m up for real. I forgot to mention this yesterday but I usually spend about 30 minutes reviewing my planner and writing out a daily to-do list on a sticky note. Helps me feel put-together. I could go work out, but I stretch and choose to split my time between my bed and my chair. Cardio, right? Today’s a little more rushed, as I have a 10:10 on Tuesdays and Thursdays and I know I won’t ever get to class unless I’m already on campus for like an hour. So I’m out the door by 9 and grab a bagel sandwich from John Jay for breakfast.

9:11 AM--I arrive on campus and try to find some place to get work done. Today I end up in the Visitor’s Center. I actually finish my CC homework for today. I have physics in an hour.

10:10 AM--Class starts. The professor is barely 30 and he’s kinda bonkers. Last class he tried to explain gravity to us by shooting a stuffed monkey down from the ceiling with a rifle.

11:25 AM--Class ends and I have a break before Music Theory so I head to Schapiro to finish up the compositions.

1:00 PM--Music Theory starts in ten minutes so I head over. I realize on the way there that I forgot to get lunch, which makes me mildly annoyed.

2:25 PM--I go to JJ’s to get some snacks that will count as lunch for today. I sit on the lawns and work my way through an Uncrustable and get some work done. I would normally be working on CC homework because I never do it, but today I’ve got free time so I read some physics.

4:10 PM--I’ve got Ear Training. A great class, but it’s only an hour long and I wish it were longer. Basically all we do is work on sight-singing and rhythm dictation. If being a music major only consisted of learning complex rhythms, I would be so happy.

5:00 PM--Class has ended. I head to Starr library to take a nap.

6:10 PM-- I head to CC. Today’s class is about Aquinas, some guy who was deeply invested in defending Catholicism from Muslims and was heavily inspired by Aristotle. I realize halfway through the class that I didn’t know there were two assigned readings, and I only read one of them. But for the first half of class I am incredibly useful to the conversation.

My professor is a round, clearly gay man who flaunts his homosexuality at every passing chance. He sometimes cold-calls people to answer questions, but those questions are never directly about the text and for that I am grateful. He steers conversation in a remarkably efficient way, and I never feel like I haven’t talked about a topic I really wanted to talk about. I hated this class at the beginning of the semester but now I’ve come to like it.

8:00 PM--Class is done for the day, and the second I step out of Hamilton I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Tuesday and Thursday nights are like my Fridays in the middle of the week; I can breathe a little bit, and not worry about impending responsibilities until the next morning. So I head home with a spring in my step. I decide to walk home instead of taking the subway.

I get home and decide to put off studying since I don’t have anything actually due tomorrow. I work a bit on this article I’m writing for The Spectator and FaceTime a guy I’m seeing. He’s interning for J.P. Morgan this coming summer. It’s a shame we’re not dating because why be rich when you can marry rich, you feel me? But I’m not looking for a relationship right now. So I end the call after about an hour, finish up my draft and send it to Co-worker, who has written a ton of articles for Spec and is my most trusted editor. He gives me feedback, and by this time it’s about 11 PM so I go take a shower and turn in for the night.