#they keep coming up with excuses like we're not against it just uhhh some other thing

[sweatandwoe]

Just imagining someone saying "Eat my fucking ass Silco!" and his response is just "Okay. Bend over."

Anon you got a big brain. Also I'm sure you meant Silco/Reader but uhhh wrote Vanco instead

Silco/Vander - MDNI/NSFW Tags: Rimming, Blowjobs, Anal Fingering, Top Silco, Bottom Vander 2k Words

"This is what's needed for the job, Vander."

"And you're asking for too much, Silco. We're running thin in the Lanes as it is." Vander runs a hand through his locks, sighing and trying to stop his nostrils from flaring. Ever since he had agreed to work with the other man again, it had been nothing but arguments and headaches.

"It's only a dozen more men at the harbor, Vander." Silco doesn't even look up from his spot on Vander’s couch, ledgers and censuses before him on the coffee table. He always loved to be sure about everything, never one to make a mistake even in their relatively calm meetings. Most of the time. "I've already stationed some of Smeech's people there. Yours will only be for backup."

"I'm telling you, we barely have enough of the people in the Lanes as it is. I can't assign the shopkeepers next."

"Can't you?" Blue and red eyes burn into Vander, a fire brimming beneath the surface. "Aren't you their leader, Vander?"

"It's not that simple."

Silco’s lips twitch turn downwards. "Do I have to give you a lesson on leadership?"

Vander glares at him then, fists curling. He was done with this meeting. "Eat my entire fucking ass, Silco."

The blue eye widens marginally and he drops his pen onto the coffee table. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I not clear enough?" Vander leans over his desk with a sneer. "Eat my ass, Silco."

The man looks stunned for a moment, blue eye blinking before it all begins to harden. And Vander feels a moment of panic when Silco stands. Despite the size difference, Vander knows that Silco had spent most of the past decade apart as a ruthless killer. Vander’s muscles were from lifting heavy crates now, not from hitting any enforcers.

Silco makes his approach slow, moving to stand in front of Vanderr's desk. Both hands are behind his back, and he glances down at the desk before raising to the larger man's gaze and holding it. "Get on the desk then."

Vander blinks. "What?" He winces afterward because it sounds almost idiotic with how it falls out of his mouth. Not that Silco seems to care. Not with how his eyes keep burning into Vander. 

"You heard me. Get on the desk and take your pants off."

Silco's tone suggests no room for argument, but Vander still sits where he is, a little stunned. "Silco I-"

"This was probably bound to happen sooner or later." He rounds the desk next, coming up right beside Vander. "It's best to get it out of the way now, and we can have a proper discussion afterwards like adults." He bends down, close enough that his lips almost brush against Vander's ear. "So get on the desk or tell me to leave."

Vander rises after that, halfway undoing his belt slowly, brow furrowing. Silco dominating him with just his gaze, the cold fire of those mismatched eyes encouraging him to continue to strip, and then again with a slow careful touch along his back.

It was the opposite of how they had done things when they were younger, not that Vander minded at all at how commanding Silco sounded now. Still, he wanted to be sure. "Are you sure you don't want me to-"

"I know exactly what I want." The touch dips down, fingers dragging along an old scar. Silco had been the one to stitch it. "And what I want is: you laid out before me, Vander."

Well-

Fuck.

Vander is kicking off his boots and pants next, and after a moment of hesitation, decides to say 'fuck it' and his shirt is gone too. Just the brace is left when he climbs onto the desk, laying back on it. It's not entirely comfortable, but there's a flare in his veins when Silco gazes at him, that helps him ignore it. 

There's a nudge to one leg and Vander spreads them, letting Silco stand between them. One hand brushes over his inner thigh and Vander tries to hide the tremble it causes, but from how Silco's lips twitch, the other man was enjoying it. "If I had known it was so easy to get you to follow orders, I would've done this months ago."

Silco's fingers are long and cold, and Vander shivers as they run up his thighs. "Probably wouldn't have worked months ago."

"No, probably not. You needed some time and patience and to be a little worked up." Silco presses his fingers against the meat of his thighs, watching enraptured over Vander's face, like he’s taking not of every twitch or squirm. 

It's a horribly hot sight, that has the heat rising on the larger man's cheeks. And something else rising as well he notices after a moment. Blushing terribly, he meets Silco's stare, fingers fidgeting against the wood of the desk. "Maybe."

The shorter man smiles then, the first real one of the evening and it makes Vander's heart leap. And then start beating far too fast, when Silco sinks onto his knees. "Well, I shouldn't keep you waiting after such patience."

Warmed fingers are soon spreading him wide, and Vander can feel his face going even redder as Silco just stares at him, taking in the sight for a moment. "You don't have to memorize it, ya know."

The real, elegant eyebrow raises. "Are you suggesting this becomes a regular thing?"

Janna, he hopes so. "It can be. If you want."

"We'll see if I do."

The conversation dies when Silco leans forward. A kiss to a cheek first before scraping chipped teeth against it, creating a nice bruise that will bloom later. Lips drag along the skin, until they finally reach his hole, before moving an inch below. Which has Vander wondering what the fuck he was doing before he felt it. "Oh. Oh, fuck."

Silco drags the flat of his tongue upwards, lapping over Vander's asshole three times before pulling back. Fingers dig into his skin before he feels the sudden wetness against his hole and Silco is lapping at him again, much more smoothly.

He had spit on him. Vander probably should've taken offense to it, but all he wanted was for Silco to spit on him again. His legs shift, lifting slightly to give the other man more room. "Silco." It comes out as a moan. 

The shorter man pulls back, just a little, smirking when the larger man groans above him. "I've barely started, Vander."

"Then don’t stop. Please."

"Keep your hands to yourself. Behave. And I won't stop." Then he's diving in again, nose pressing against the skin just beneath his balls while his tongue works over his hole once more. Lapping a few more times, before the tip of his tongue works over the ring of muscle.

Vander has never felt anything like this. Literally, no one had ever put their tongue on him like this before. He was always meant to be the one to take care of other people.

But now he can't stop himself from whining as Silco dips his tongue in a little, back arching and cock straining against his stomach. He grips the desk and not Silco, just as the other man instructed, panting and trying to gaze down to just see the wisps of dark and silver locks.

Okay, maybe he liked being taken care of too. Just a little bit.

Silco's tongue flicks, and he's realizing he might like being played with a lot more than he ever thought he might. Vander can't help it, not as the other man's name slips from his mouth.

And then Silco's lips leave him, a final kiss. Then there's the sound of spitting but Vander can't feel it and that’s more alarming. "Silco?"

Blue and red meet silver eyes. "Do you trust me, Vander?"

Vander takes only a moment to respond. "Yes."

Wet fingers brush over his asshole next, and he tenses, an automatic response to the new pressure. Silco's other hand brushes over his thigh, soothingly before his mouth moves to press a kiss onto his balls and has him relaxing enough for a digit to circle the ring of muscle just as Silco's tongue did.

But unlike Silco's tongue, it's a lot longer. It slides in easily, and Vander's gasping at the feeling. It touches him somewhere deep, curling, and his cock jump. "Fuck, Silco. That's so good."

The other man answers with his lips pressing upward, a series of kisses running up his shaft. Eyes meet as Silco drags his lips back downwards, moving in time with his finger.

When Silco rises, his mouth moves to enclose around the tip of his cock, and a second finger presses against him too. When it presses in, Silco swallows him down to the base in one smooth movement that has Vander shouting.

Silco's head bobs in time with his fingers thrusts, tongue curling against the underside of Vander's dick. Fuck, it's too good. It's too much. Vander's never had this much stimulation before, and his fingers dig into the desk hard enough to dent it. "Silco, I'm gonna cum. Please. Please!"

The shorter man only continues his movements, and when Vander’s balls tighten, his back strains in a way that will leave him aching tomorrow, Silco takes everything Vander can give him and swallows it down. 

Mouth and fingers part from him next, spreading him while his legs were still shaking, checking on his hole to make sure he was okay before Silco rises. He stretches across the desk, pressing his body to Vander’s and takes the larger man’s face in hand. Lips brush over his jaw while he grinds his hard cock against Vander’s hip.  Giving him a few minutes to recover before one hand moves to his hair and sharply pulls “Get on your knees.”

Vander does so, slipping from the desk and settling onto his knees just as Silco slips off of him. Naked while Silco was still fully dressed, though with four snaps of buttons a familiar part of him is soon also exposed. 

“Open, Vander.” When he does, Silco sinks the tip of his cock into his mouth. There’s a coo above him, as both hands run into the brown locks. “Good boy. Relax.”

Lips part wider, letting Silco have more room. Fingers grip into Vander’s hair, and he moves to grip his own knees, doing his best to relax. He knows what’s about to happen, he doesn’t try to stop it. And when Silco starts to fuck his mouth, Vander realizes how much he likes it. A little too much if he’s honest, with how hot it has him feeling. 

It doesn’t help that Silco can never keep quiet, even while he’s fucking Vander’s face. 

“That’s it. Look at how well you’re taking my cock.” He holds Vander’s head in place, thrusting in and out. Going a little deeper after each couple of thrusts, until Vander gags on him. The blue eye rolls back at the sensation, and soon is thrusting back onto it. “That’s it. Gag on it, like the whore you are.” 

With watering eyes, he moans around it instead, and Silco’s eyes snap down onto his. “Oh? You like being my whore?” Another moan, and Silco’s grabbing his hair even tighter, balling it into his fists as he sinks in even deeper. “Hound of the underworld, but that was never right was it? When you’re more like a bitch in heat. Angry and spitting until someone fucks you right.” 

Vander’s dick gives a small twitch, not enough to get hard again so quickly, but the interest is plain to him. Even as tears begin to roll down his cheeks, drool pooling past his chin as Silco fucks his mouth so roughly, he still wants more. Wants to be filled in new ways. 

Though from how his back and jaw are already aching, perhaps not filled in new ways today.

Silco pushes fully into him and Vander chokes around his dick, throat straining to take him. And then the other man pulls out entirely, and Vander leaves his mouth open while he pants and cries. 

One hand leaves his hair to jerk off his cock, only take a few flicks of his wrist before Vander’s face gets streaks of warmth onto it. He moans, eyes fluttering, before both of them pant. 

When fingers untangle from his hair, they don’t move to wipe the cum off of his face. Carefully avoiding it to cup his cheek, tilting his head upwards so they can view each other.

 It’s almost unfair how not wrecked Silco looks, just a few hairs out of place and a slight shine on his forehead. Otherwise, he’s still perfectly put together. But there’s a smile there now, softer and tender. 

Both slow-moving, Silco helps him rise, to settle back into his chair, still naked. There’s no energy to put his clothes back on yet. “So,” Vander starts, voice hoarse, “That was fun.”

“Quite.” Fingers gently brush through his hair, rubbing over the sore spots from where he had been grabbing it. “A better way to end the meeting, I think.”

Vander hums in agreement, leaning into the other man’s touch. It grows quiet, neither needing to speak for a few minutes, basking in the soft and tender afterglow. 

Silco breaks it, as his habit. “Vander?” 

“Hmm?”

There’s a pause. “I want this to be a regular occurrence.”

Vander smiles. “Well, isn’t that a romantic way of putting it.” 

Silco’s eyes roll, but he leans down to capture Vander’s lips in a kiss that’s almost hilariously chaste after what they had just done. Pulling back, his lips curl into a bladed smirk. “Would you prefer I go find a poem to recite to you? I’m sure there are some good ones at the library-”

“This is fine enough.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Silco huffs but doesn’t move far, lips pressing against Vander’s ear. “I missed you.”

Something tight breaks in Vander’s chest, and the tears that are starting to break through are very different than the ones from before. “I missed you too, Silco.” 

Another pause and the lips curl against him. “I’m still taking those men.”

Vander rolls watery eyes, dragging Silco in close to him. 

“Fine.”

[dirt-grub]

hm thinkin about trying transtape

[spacesuitsforemergency]

The Rise Of Iron Maiden

Chapter 6: Whatever It Takes

Word Count: 3.1k

Originally Requested by: @amateurwriterbigdreamer

Previous Chapter: The Return Of Iron Maiden

Next Chapter: The Time Heist

A/N: this chapter was so fun to write, hope you enjoy! This is probably my favorite chapter so far

“Come on, I feel like I'm the only one eating.” Dr. Banner pushes a plate forward. “Try some of that. Have some eggs.”

“I am so confused.” Scott stared in awe.

“Yeah...” you blink.

“These are confusing times.” Banner says seriously.

“Right. No, no, that's not what I meant.” Scott shook his head.

“What exactly is going on here?” Tye gestured to Banner...or...Hulk...Dr. Hulk...

“No, I get it. I'm kidding! I know. It's crazy. I'm wearing shirts now.” Bruce says happily. You stare at his current form, somehow part Banner and part Hulk.

“Yeah! Wh...How? Why?” Scott stuttered.

“Five years ago, we got our asses beaten. Except it was worse for me. Because I lost twice. First, Hulk lost, then Banner lost. Then, we all lost.” Bruce explained.

“No one blamed you, Bruce.” Natasha reassured him.

“I did. For years, I've been treating the Hulk like he's some kind of disease, something to get rid of. But then I started looking at him as the cure. Eighteen months in a gamma lab. I put the brains and the brawn together. And now look at me. Best of both worlds...” he motioned to himself.

“What is this Hannah Montana bullshit...?” You whisper to Tye as three children walk up behind Bruce...or Hulk.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hulk?” The girl asks shyly.

“Yes?” Banner turned to face them.

“Can we get a photo?”

“100%, little person. Come on, step up.” He took off his glasses and held his phone out to Scott. “You mind?”

Scott nods and takes the picture, leaning over to give the phone back. “Don't you wanna grab one with me? I'm Ant-Man.” He offered. “They're Hulk fans, they don't know Ant-Man. Nobody does.”

“Wait, no, no, he feels bad. No, he wants you to...he wants to...” he turns to the kids, the boy shakes his head. “You want to take a picture with him, right?”

“Stranger Danger.” The other boy adds.

“He's even saying no he doesn't. I get it. I don't want it either.” Scott tried to shrug it off.

You and Tye cringed in second hand embarrassment as the scene unfolded in front of you, Natasha rolling her eyes and continuing to eat her breakfast.

“Anyways...” Tye muttered when the kids finally walk away.

“About what we were saying...” Steve added.

“Right. The whole time travel do-over? Guys, it's outside my area of expertise.” He shook his head as he turned back to face you guys.

“Well, you pulled this off. I remember a time when that seemed pretty impossible time, too.” Natasha smiled.

•

“Okay, here we go. Time travel test number one. Scott, fire up the uhhh... the van thing.”

You stand with Banner and perfect the controls, Tye, Steve and Nat standing aside to let you two work.

“Breakers are set, emergency generators are on standby.” You alert him.

“Good. 'Cause if we blow the grid, I don't wanna lose Tiny here in the 1950's.” Banner snickered. Everyone looks at him with concern.

“Excuse me?” Scott asked, panicked.

“He’s kidding!” Tye said, only half sure.

“You can’t say things like that.” Natasha laughs nervously.

“Yeah uh...just a bad joke. Scientist humor.” You reassure Scott, and he seems satisfied with your answer.

“You were kidding, right?” Natasha whispered to you two.

“I have no idea. We're talking about time travel here. Either it's all a joke, or none of it is.” You shrug.

“We're good! Get your helmet on, Scott. I'm gonna send you back a week, let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds. Makes sense?” Bruce sends a thumbs up to Scott.

“Perfectly not confusing.” Scott nodded sarcastically.

“Good luck, Scott. You’ve got this.” Steve called over to him.

“You're right. I do, Captain America.” Scott smiles proudly. Bruce presses a button, and Scott is sucked into the Quantum Realm. “On the count of three. 3...2...1!”

The Ant Man suit comes back, but inside of it is a teenager.

“Uh, guys? This...this doesn't feel right.” What you presumed was teenage Scott Lang, said worriedly.

“What is this?” Steve asked.

“Oh hell no.” Tye shook his head.

“What’s going on?” You ask Bruce as he fiddles with the controls.

“That...who is that?” Natasha asked.

“Hold on.” Bruce said, panicking.

“Is that Scott?” Natasha asked, lookingback and forth between the teenager and the scientists.

“Yes, it’s Scott!” Teenage Scott shouted.

He’s sucked in again, and when he reappears there’s an old man.

“Ow! My back!” Old Man Scott Lang groaned.

“What is this?” Steve repeated.

“Can I get a little space here?” Bruce shooed at them.

“Yeah yeah. Can you bring him back?” Steve persisted.

“I’m working on it!” Bruce nudged you aside, now taking full control of the panel. You step down, standing between Steve and Tye.

“For the love of the lord...” Tye pinched the bridge of his nose. “Obviously we’re working with a couple of geniuses.”

“Hey, this isn’t me.” You raise your hands in surrender, as another form of Scott appears.

“It’s a baby.” Steve blinked.

“It’s Scott!”

“As a baby!”

“He’ll grow.”

“Bring Scott back!”

“When I say kill the power, kill the power.” Bruce motioned for you to go to the generator.

“Oh god. Oh my god.” You mutter nervously, walking to the generator.

“And...kill it!”

You pull the lever, and everything shuts down. You sigh in relief when you finally see the normal Scott Lang.

“Oh thank god.” Natasha took a breath.

“Somebody peed my pants.” Scott blinked. “But I don't know if it was "baby" me or "old" me...Or just "me" me.”

“Time travel!” Bruce cheered. You and Steve don’t say anything, Tye and Natasha give him an identical look of displeasure. “What? I see this as an absolute win!”

•

“Hey there, Iron Maiden.”

You turn to see your dad standing in the doorway of your old room, where you were currently searching for said Iron Maiden suit. You swear you left it in your closet before you left.

“What are you doing here?” You glare at your father.

“Thought you might want this.” Tony hands you a briefcase. You take it and slowly open it, seeing a polished up version of your suit.

“You...?”

“I’ve been doing some thinking and...you’re right.” Your dad admits. “This chance...it’s worth it.”

“So you’re going to help?” You ask hopefully.

“You seem desperate for it. Let me guess: he turned into a baby.”

“Yeah how did you...?”

“That's the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might've wound up pushing time through Lang. It's tricky. Dangerous. Somebody should've cautioned you against it.”

“You did.” You chuckle lightly.

“Oh, I did?” He winked playfully at you. “Thank God I'm here. Regardless, I fixed it. A fully functioning Time-Space GPS. I just want peace. Turns out, resentment is corrosive, and I hate it.”

“Like father like daughter.” You chuckle.

“We got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities: Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs. And... maybe not die trying will be nice.” He negotiates.

“...sounds like a deal.” You agree. He reaches out to shake your hand, you grab it and pull him into a hug. He hugs for a moment before straightening up.

“Oh, and don’t parade that around. Pretend like you had it the whole time, I don’t have one for the whole team. We are getting the whole team, right?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You bet your ass we are.”

•

“Kind of a step down from a from a golden palace for an Avenger highness and whatnot.” Rocket mutters as the truck arrives at New Asgard, which was in a small fishing town in Norway. You hop out, following them along the docks.

“Hey, have a little compassion, pal. First they've lost Asgard, then half the people. They're probably just happy to have a home.” Bruce tells him.

You were on your way to try to convince Thor to rejoin the team, so that you would have a better shot at succeeding. Tye was with Natasha to go get Clint, Rhodey was back preparing with Nebula, Tony, Natasha, Scott, and Steve.

A girl called Valkyrie points you in the direction of Thors residence, and you follow the raccoon and the Hulk into a house.

“What the...Woo! Something died in here.” Rocket grimaced at the smell, and you scrunched your nose up in disgust.

“Hello? Thor?” Bruce calls through the house.

“Are you here about the cable?” Thor calls from somewhere. Your jaw drops when you see him. He’s definitely...put on a few pounds.

“The Cinemax ran out about two weeks ago, and the sports were all kind of fuzzy.” Thor rambled on as he grabbed a beer.

“Thor?” You ask, and he turns to look at you.

“Boys! Y/N!” He cheered happily. “Oh my God! Its so to see you!” He then pulled Rocket into a hug. “Come here, you little rascal!”

“No, I'm good. I'm good. That's not necessary.” Rocket pried himself away from Thor, dodging and standing on the other side of you.

“Hulk, you know my friends, Miek, Korg, right?” He gestured to a rock guy and some alien, playing...ew, Fortnite. Thank god Tye and Jaime weren’t here to witness this (they would probably physically fight them).

“Beer's on the bucket. Feel free to log on to the Wi-Fi. No password, obviously.” Korg then goes back to his game. “Thor, he's back. The kid on the TV that called me a dickhead again.”

“NoobMaster.” Thor growled, as of spewing the name of his greatest enemy and grabbing the headset. “Noobmaster? Yeah, it's Thor again. You know, the God of Thunder? Listen, buddy. If you don't log off this game immediately, I am gonna fly over to your house, come down to that basement you're hiding in, rip off your arms AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR BUTT!!! Oh, that's right. Yes, go cry to your father, you little weasel!”

“What is going on?” You whisper to the guys.

“We’re witnessing the human embodiment of the word ‘loser’.” Rocket muttered, Bruce lightly nudging him. “What?”

“Buddy, you alright?” Bruce ignores the non raccoon.

“Yes, I'm fine! Why, don't I look all right?” Thor asked.

“You look like melted ice cream.” Rocket crossed his arms.

“So, what’s up?” Thor chuckled.

“We need your help. There might be a chance we could fix everything.” You explain.

“What, like the cable? Cause that's been driving me bananas for weeks.”

“Like Thanos.” Bruce says softly.

Thor’s smile slowly fades, and he grabs Bruce’s shoulder. You watch as Thor goes through about a million emotions as Bruce reasons with him, explaining in proper detail why he should come.

“There’s beer on the ship.” Rocket finally adds, and that perks Thor’s attention.

“...what kind?”

•

“Drifting left. On the side there, Lebowski.” Tony says to Thor as he passes him, going up to Rocket, where Tye’s assisting him with building the glass platform. “Ratchet, how's it going?”

“It's Rocket. Take it easy. You're only a genius on Earth, pal.” Rocket points a wrench at him, before turning to Tye. “Alright kid, where’s that drill?”

Tony continued to strut down the hallway, finding you in a side room with Natasha, Rhodey, Scott, Bruce and Steve.

“Time travel suit? Not bad.” Rhodey admires your work.

“Scott, I made it close to your Ant Man suit so you don’t get confused.” You say slowly, as if he were a child.

“Yeah, Thanks.” Scott scoffed, before shrieking. “Hey, hey, hey! Easy, easy!”

“I’m being very careful!” Bruce insisted.

“No, you’re being very Hulky.” Scott sighs. “These are Pym Particles, alright? And ever since Hank Pym got snapped out of existence, this is it. This is what we have. We're not making any more.”

“Scott, calm down.” Rhodey said.

“You’ve got to chillax, man.” You nod.

“Sorry. We've got enough for one round trip each. That's it. No do-overs. Plus two test runs.” He waves around, and accidentally pressed a button. “One test run.”

You walk with him to the test chamber helping him prepare with Rocket, the others watching from a control panel.

“All right. I’m not ready for this.” Scott said shakily from his nerves.

“I’m game. I’ll do it.” Clint piped up. You and Rocket groan, since you just finished setting everything up for Scott.

You help Clint with the suit, telling him the controls while Rocket adjusts everything. Then, you step back to the control panel with the others.

“Clint, now you're gonna feel a little discombobulated from the chronoshift. Don't worry about it.” Bruce instructed.

“Wai-Wait a second, let me ask you something. If we can do this, you know, go back in time, why don't we just find baby Thanos, you know, and...” Rhodey made a hand gesture, suggesting that you strangle baby Thanos with a rope.

“Ooh, I like that plan.” Tye grinned, Rhodey also smiling and patting him on the shoulder proudly.

“First of all, that’s horrible...” Bruce said, disgusted at their joy from the idea of killing a child. “...And secondly, time doesn't work that way. Changing the past doesn't change the future.”

“Look, we go back, we get the stones before Thanos gets them... Thanos doesn't have the stones. Problem solved.” Scott shrugged.

“Exactly!” Tye nodded.

“Bingo.” Clint piped up.

“That’s not how it works.” Nebula rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Well, that’s what I heard.” Clint shrugged.

“What? By who? Who told you that?” Bruce asked.

“Terminator, TimeCop, Time After Time-“ Rhodey began to list.

“Star Trek, Donnie Darko, Men in Black III.” You added.

“Quantum Leap and Meet the Robinsons.” Scott said.

“A Wrinkle in Time, Somewhere in Time-“ Rhodey nodded.

“Hot Tub Time Machine. Butterfly Effect. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Basically, any movie that deals with time travel.” Tye said, as if everyone was stupid for not knowing.

“Die Hard? No that’s not one...” Scott mumbled.

“This is known.” You say.

“I don't know why everyone believes that, but that isn't true. Think about it: If you travel to the past, that past becomes your future. And your former present becomes the past. Which can't now be changed by your new future...” Bruce explained to everyone.

“Exactly.” Nebula nodded.

“So...Back To The Future's a bunch of bullshit?” Scott asked, horrified.

“So my childhoods been ruined.” Tye mumbled, to which you and Rhodey nodded in agreement.

“Alright, Clint. We're going in 3... 2... 1!” Bruce presses the button. You all watch in anticipation, then Bruce hits the button again.

Clint appears again, breathing heavily. Natasha rushes over to him, the rest of you circling him.

“Hey, hey. Look at me. You okay?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah, it worked. It worked.” Clint held up a baseball glove.

•

“You ready for this?” You ask Tye, playing with your food, too nervous to eat.

“No.” He laughed bitterly.

“At least we don’t have to help them track down the Stones.” You sigh. The Avengers were all racking their brains, trying to track them all down. Since you and Tye knew nothing about the Stones, you were excused from the meeting.

“Yeah. God forbid we use a couple brain cells.” He chuckled.

“What if we screw it up?” You ask after a few moments of silence.

“That’s what I’m worried about. We only have one shot to bring everyone back.” He sighed.

“Hopefully the one we’re assigned won’t be hard to get.” You kick your feet up and drape your legs across his lap.

“Please, as if anything with this job is easy.” Tye scoffed, shoving your legs off of him.

“I’m just happy to see everybody again. Did you notice Clint’s fresh cut?” You grinned.

“And the tattoos.” Tye nodded. “And Thor kinda...bulked up.”

“He plays Fortnite now.” You nod.

“Excuse me?” Tye raised an eyebrow, before pretending to gag.

“It’s...disturbing.” You giggle.

“Guys!” Scott ran into the room, a panicked look on his face. You and Tye stand, waiting for him to continue. “We got it.”

You both rush out to the room they’d been planning in, seeing the plans on the holographic screen. After they thoroughly explain the plan, everyone headed to bed for a good nights rest. Tye stays behind, eyes scanning the screens.

Jaime is counting on him, his best friend is counting on him to bring him back to life. You’re counting on him to bring back Eduardo and Peter. Scott and Clint’s counting on him to bring their families back. Steve is counting on him to bring Bucky back. Everyone’s counting on him to bring everyone back, and it terrifies him.

“What are you doing, kid?”

He looks over to see Natasha in the doorway, a concerned look on her face.

“Just...triple checking.” He mumbled, trying to slow his breathing and calm his nerves.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” Natasha walked over to comfort her son. “You’ll be with Y/N, you know how she is. Nothing ever goes wrong with her around.”

“It went wrong on Titan.” He muttered, then shook his head. “It’s just...Jaime, he’s like my brother. I need to bring him back.”

“We will bring him back. We’re going to bring everyone back.” She reassured him.

“Thanks...mom.”

•

“All right. We have a plan. Six Stones, three teams. One shot.” Steve says as everyone suits up. “Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends...We lost family...We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win. Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes.” You all repeat, forming a circle and putting your fists in the middle. You look at everyone, each person has determination in their eyes.

“He's pretty good at that.” Rocket looked up at you.

“Right?” Scott said excitedly.

“All right. You heard the man. Stroke those keys, jolly green.” Tony told Bruce, who would be staying behind to make sure everything went smoothly on this end.

“Tractors engaged.” Bruce nodded.

“You promise to bring that back in one piece, right?” Rocket asks about his shrunken ship in Clint’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay. I'll do my best.” Clint nodded along.

“As promises go, that was pretty lame.” Rocket mumbled.

“See you in a minute.” Natasha smiles brightly at Clint and Tye.

“Good luck, mom.” Tye nodded.

And with that, you enter the Quantum Realm.

[jeremichal-archive]

hey man, we're like, a little bit fucked up, aren't we?

Uhhh, was kinda feeling bad last night so I thought, why not project my feelings onto someone and tada! those someones’ happened to be Jeremy and Geoff. It’s kinda heavy, but don’t worry, I gave ‘em a happy ending. 

Warnings: Smoking, Suicidal Characters/Thoughts, Anxiety Disorders, Implied Abuse/Child Abuse & Implied Alcoholism (Please let me know if there’s anything I missed) Pairing: Platonic Geoffrermy

He can't help but wonder, staring at Jeremy he lets a lit cigarette dangle between his fingers, if the kid wants to press the burning tip against his skin just as much as Geoff does.

There’s an insistent chatter in the back of his mind, one that’s a little too loud and a little too harsh, and it bites at him. Normally he’d scale it- how bad is your anxiety on a scale of one to ten- but then again, staring at Jeremy, it’s obvious that he has it worse. Not quite a corpse, not yet exactly, especially since Geoff can still count the breaths he takes, but the kid is definitely hanging on by a thread.

It doesn’t help that he’s sitting in front of the college library at two in the morning, staring at the concrete floor like he’s looking right through it and down into hell.

Kinda takes away the significance of a ten on his account, when Jeremy’s pulling in a fifty.

Normally, if it were daytime- if it weren’t a little too dark and if Geoff’s mind wasn’t currently trying to implode- he’d go over there. When it comes down to it, not many of his college students like to be comforted by their tutors, but maybe Jeremy’s the exception. Or maybe he’s not. Maybe he’d tell Geoff to fuck off. Maybe he’d press that cigarette against the flesh of Geoff’s arm and turn him to ash like his mind desperately craves.

But then, that would be murder, of course. Or assisted suicide? Eh, it’s too morbid of a thought for Geoff to follow when he’s dissociating at his place of work, even if it’s well past office hours. So yeah, any other time, he’d help. But he’s got his own issues to focus on at the current moment, so Jeremy’s will have to wait.

The buzzing in the back of his head gets louder. Guilt settles heavily on his chest and a moment later Geoff finds himself shuffling over to the kid, trying not to throw up.

God, tonight’s just been fucking great.

“You alright, Kid?” he mumbles, hating the sound of his voice. Hating the way his hands shake. Hating the way his chest heaves.

Jeremy doesn’t even spare him a glance, just continues to stare unblinkingly at the ground. He does, though, suck in a very broken and shuddery breath, because humans are living organisms and they require oxygen to survive. A fact that Geoff loathes, and he’s sure that if he asked Jeremy, the kid would agree too. His answer or lack thereof doesn’t really do much for Geoff though, and so he hovers there awkwardly, slipping his hands into his pockets and then taking them back out again.

It’s cold, and he can’t decide whether he wants the frostbite or the bite of his fingernails digging into his palm, safely hidden from his student’s eyes. Jeremy’s not really paying all too much attention to him though, so he doesn’t really have anything to worry about.

That a lie. He worries about everything.

“Uh… do you- do you need an adult?” he stutters out, eyes darting away and then back again. He can’t hold eye contact; Neither can Jeremy. “Need me to go get someone?” he asks.

“Aren’t you an adult?” Jeremy replies, and Geoff barely keeps the hiss from escaping through his teeth.

He’d like to retract his earlier statement. Jeremy isn’t hanging by a thread, he’s already snapped. He can hear it in his voice.

“Legally, sure. Mentally?” he asks, giving a small shrug, “no fucking way.” He gives up the pretence of trying to convince a dead kid that he’s mentally sane and takes a seat next to Jeremy on the steps. He scratches his fingernails down his arm. Jeremy watches with rapt attention.

He didn’t notice earlier, but there’s a certain wetness to his eyes that makes Geoff’s heart clench.

“You know, talking… helps? Right?” he whispers and Jeremy rears back as if he’s been hit, body curling in. He shakes his head, once or twice in sharp motions before squeezing his eyes closed.

Wrong words. God, he’s such a fuck up. He hates his mouth. He hates his brain. He hates the shitty excuse for a life he’s made for himself here in Austin.

There’s not much he can say after that. Jeremy doesn’t want to talk and Geoff doesn’t blame him, so they wallow together in silence. He scratches at his arms a couple of times, wishing he could see the red marks he’s making on his skin in the darkness. Slowly, Jeremy’s eyes peek open, and then his gaze drifts back over to track Geoff’s movements.

“I can’t die, Mr Ramsey,” he whispers and Geoff feels sorry for him because they both know he already has.

But, he lies anyway. “You don’t have to, Dooley. You’re still young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.” He stops scratching his arm, worried that red lines will turn into shallow wounds; he doesn’t want to stain his work clothes with blood. Jeremy looks over at him, actually meets his gaze and this time it’s Geoff who has to look away. But it doesn’t stop the kid from taking over for Geoff, blunt nails scratching at what Geoff can only assume is freezing cold skin. Teachers shouldn’t touch students, but fuck, he really wants to lean over and warm him up.

“I can’t die, Mr Ramsey,” he repeats and Geoff can hear the ‘but’ coming, “but I want too,”

Yeah, kid, he wants to mumble, join the club.

“Yeah, kid,” it slips out, and Geoff’s too tired, and hurt, and buzzing to stop it, “join the club.”

It takes Jeremy by surprise a little bit, rather actually, by a fucking lot, because he opens his mouth and then just bites down on his tongue. He lets out a broken sound, and Geoff wonders if he’s tasting blood. Geoff bites down on his own tongue. He wants to taste blood too.

“My dad’s going to kill me, Mr Ramsey,” he whines and Geoff blanches, fingers curling into fists by his sides. “And normally I wouldn’t care, normally I’d be glad, but my mom-” he sucks in another desperate breath and then holds it. Geoff counts. He makes it to twelve before Jeremy releases it. “It would hurt my mom so bad and I can’t, I can’t die Mr Ramsey. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do. I’m so fucking selfish, and horrible. I’m a waste of space, I’m a waste of money. What do I do?” he pleads and Geoff just stares back at him. “What do I do? Please, Mr Ramsey, I don’t know what to do.”

“Why is your dad going to kill you, Dooley?” he asks and Jeremy tilts his head back. The why doesn’t matter, not really, but Geoff can barely look after himself, so he doesn’t really know how to respond to the kids pleading. He’s buying himself some time and Jeremy's letting him.

“College is expensive, Mr Ramsey,” he whispers like it explains everything, and in retrospect, it kinda does.

“Yeah, it is, buddy,” he replies and Jeremy frowns.

“I’m failing all my classes,” he adds, and Geoff gives him a sad smile. He knows that too. Maybe not in the grand scheme of things, but in his class, Jeremy’s barely managing a forty percent average.

“I’m sorry, Dooley,” he comforts lamely and Jeremy nods, a couple of sharp jerks.

“Don’t know what I expected, I guess. I’ve never been good at anything. Never been worth much,” he spits, deliberately raking his fingers hard down his arm. It doesn’t matter how blunt his nails are, Geoff knows he’s drawn blood. “Should have just fucking walked into traffic in junior year like I planned too. I’ve fucking wasted everyone's time. I’ve wasted your time. I’m so sorry, Mr Ramsey,” he mumbles and Geoff grits his teeth.

Every now and then, the buzzing will get worse, almost like a punch to the stomach. And Geoff knows that Jeremy would just let him go if he decided to stand up and leave the kid there. Let him suffer alone while Geoff walked home and microwaved a meal for one like he has for the last six months of his life.

So yeah, he could walk away, but there’s something selfish in the way that knowing that Jeremy’s humming too, that Jeremy’s mind is desperately screaming for something that the kids not getting from anyone else, it makes Geoff feel like he’s not the only one on this godforsaken planet doomed to fail.

So maybe, they can fail together.

He flexes his fingers slowly, curling and uncurling them in front of himself. Jeremy’s gaze snaps to them, and Geoff realises he likes the repetitiveness of the movement. His fingers are freezing, but that’s what he gets for not slipping them into his pocket, and it’s easy to guess that Jeremy’s are cold too. He leans over between the two of them and plucks the cigarette from Jeremy’s fingers, hesitating for a moment before putting it out on the concrete.

“C’mon, buddy,” he whispers, pushing himself to his feet and slipping his hands into his pockets. Jeremy stares up at him, unsure of what he’s meant to be doing, and so Geoff gestures for him to stand. It takes a couple of minutes, but in the end, the kid moves. “It’s fucking cold out here, ain’t it?” he whispers, taking a step forward and looking back. He smiles when he sees that Jeremy is following him.

“Yeah?” Jeremy replies, very obviously a little bit vulnerable right now. After a moment, he nods, “Yeah… I guess, I- I can’t really tell anymore…” he adds, and Geoff hums.

“A couple of idiots, aren’t we?” he jokes and he’s quick to continue, knowing full well that Jeremy’s hesitant huffed laugh is one that’s completely fake. “Forgot out jackets, need to take better care of ourselves.”

They meet each other's gaze. After a moment, they both know full well that neither one of them accidentally forgot to keep themselves warm tonight. The cold is a good replacement for a bottle of whiskey and the burn of a cigarette. It also doesn’t leave a mark. It seems as if Jeremy hasn’t been able to avoid his vice for as long as Geoff has though, but then again, it's not like he’s the poster child healthy behaviour.

They walk slowly, Jeremy a half a step behind him, letting Geoff lead. Deep down, he knows the kids looking for something more than he can give him. He knows he’s looking for something to keep him alive. And while Geoff might not be the best role model out there, surely he’s better than nothing.

Surely he’s better than letting a kid die just because everyone's based his worth on his ability to succeed, and not his ability to survive.

“It’s a long walk back to my apartment, kid,” he mumbles though, and Jeremy hums, “I can walk you home on the way there if you’d prefer,” he asks and Jeremy looks at him.

The hum bites at him. Something hollow sits in the middle of his stomach. Jeremy shakes his head.

“I don’t want to go home tonight, Mr Ramsey,” he whispers and Geoff nods.

“Then we better pick up the pace, we don’t want to freeze to death out here,” he replies.

Neither of them laugh.

☾ ☽

Jeremy’s sitting on the couch when he gets home; His eyes are rimmed red.

Geoff’s stomach drops.

“Hey, kiddo. What’s up, hmm?” He asks, instantly dropping his bag by the front door. He crosses the living room with quick strides and drops into the seat beside Jeremy. He tugs at him and Jeremy sinks into his side easily, sniffing quietly. There’s a laptop sitting closed on the coffee table; Geoff’s smart enough to know what it means.

He lets out a sad smile and plants a kiss on the top of Jeremy’s head, lazily rubbing a hand up and down his spine.

“It’s alright, Jeremy. You can’t win ‘em all kid,” he whispers, trying so hard to remember what those damn self-help books said about comforting your kid. In retrospect though, Jeremy’s been living with him long enough to know how emotionally constipated he is, especially when it comes to shit like this. And they’re both in the red, to be honest, Jeremy’s just a better actor about it. So he should be fine, even if he sticks his foot in his mouth.

“Remember what we say?” he soothes and Jeremy turns his tearful gaze towards Geoff. He sucks in a shaky breath, but somehow they still manage to repeat the words in perfect unison. It is a sentence that’s been mumbled between the two of them enough times to be burned into their memory’s by now, so that’s probably why.

“We’re all going to die one day, what's a fucking failed course going to matter when we’re bones in the ground.”

When their words trail off, Geoff gives them a moment. He lets Jeremy steady his breathing and he lets the bubbly anxiety in his stomach settle, and then he reaches for the laptop, pulling it onto his lap and slipping open the lid. Jeremy doesn’t stop him, just watches him closely as he scans Jeremy’s end of semester grades.

What he sees almost makes him drop the fucking laptop.

“What? What the fucking fuck, kid? You! You fucking tricked me?” he screams and Jeremy tears up again, but this time Geoff understands that it’s not from sadness. “All passes?” he hisses and Jeremy gives a sharp nod. He’s practically vibrating in his seat next to him and so Geoff grabs for him, pulling the kid tight against his chest.

“I- I thought I was dreaming,” he mumbles, and Geoff lets out a hysterical laugh, “tell me I’m not dreaming, dad,” he pleads and Geoff bites his lip, grinning wildly.

“Nah kiddo, you’re not dreaming,” he replies and Jeremy hiccups out a sob, “this is as real as things can get, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”

It’s later that night when Geoff prints out a screenshot of Jeremy’s grades. He repurposes the frame from his degree, slips in the screenshot and he hangs it on the wall behind the television. When Jeremy sees it the next morning, Geoff knows he’s made the right choice.

The look on Jeremy’s face settles the hum in the back of Geoff’s mind for the rest of the day.