For Dad December (@daddecember), prompts "Do you still love me?" (alt. 10) and "You're not a disappointment" (day 12). I wrote this on a whim, so I apologize if it's messy and incomplete.
DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.
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Sneaking in here, this skyscraper, is far from the first time. Except it’s pouring rain outside and Peter isn’t supposed to be here.
He drops his backpack onto the floor (thankfully, it’s mostly waterproof) and takes off his suit with a mere press to the spider symbol on his chest. Other than that, he does not move an inch. Not when he hears footsteps coming to the room, and soon the lights are on.
“Peter? What are you doing here?”
Peter flinches at the way Mr. Stark says it. Like he doesn’t want Peter here. While he has good reasons for that, it still stings.
“Does your aunt know you’re here?”
The teenager won’t say anything or turn around.
“… You break in here and you won’t even look at me?”
Peter can only lower his head in shame, unable to tell if the raindrops are really from the rain or if they’re coming from him.
“Come on, kid, are you hurt? What do you need?”
Mr. Stark sounds tired. Well, it is the middle of the night.
Peter shivers.
“… Tony?”
It’s so, so rare of him to address Mr. Stark by his first name. It always felt unattainable, undeserved of Peter to be so close to his childhood hero.
“Do you still lo…” love me? Should Peter say it? Is he allowed to? Instead, he sobs, “Do you h-hate me?”
Mr. Stark is speechless, for a moment.
“Peter…”
“I know I- I screwed up again, Tony. I’m sorry, I was stupid and I was wrong to just say those- those awful things to you.” Things like not needing Tony or that he hates him. Yes. Peter said the H word to him and stormed off. It’s been weeks since. “I-I couldn’t stop thinking about it since, thinking I screwed up for good, and that I wouldn’t see you again, and—”
“Peter—”
“I’m sorry!” The teen cries, “I’m sorry, Tony. I know y-you didn’t want to see me, but I… I would never forgive myself if—” if something bad happened, if I lost you—
“Hey, hey, look at me. Look at me, kid.”
He’s too afraid to do so, but Peter turns around, at least. He’s still too scared to look Tony in the eye.
“Peter, I don’t hate you. I would and I will never, ever hate you, okay?” Tony softens. “I’ve been thinking about you, too, this whole time. I didn’t reach out before because I thought you might need some time off, but I kept replaying our last fight in my head… And I’m sorry, too. I’m really sorry, kiddo. I’m supposed to look out for you, and all I did was yell—”
“No, I-I get it, I’m a disappointment—”
“No, you’re not. You are not a disappointment, Peter. Do you hear me?” Tony says firmly. Then, he sighs, “Oh, kiddo, you’re trembling.”
He rushes somewhere and, apparently, grabs one or two towels and wraps them around Peter. With that, Tony gently lifts Peter’s chin with his finger. It breaks the latter’s expectations: the former’s look is filled with worry, fondness, and sorrow. Not a hint of rage or disappointment.
“… I missed you,” Peter whispers.
“I missed you, too, bud.” Tony pats his shoulder. “Let’s get you warm first, okay?”
“Okay.”
Before they actually do anything, Peter impulsively hugs Tony. Even for a short moment, even if they might not be there yet, Peter doesn’t want to lose him. Tony means a lot to him, more than just fanboyish feelings and memories. He hopes it means something to his mentor as well.
Rather than pushing him away, Tony hugs him back, not caring about Peter’s soaked hair and clothes. If anything, the man is squeezing him a little, as if silently apologizing to Peter, and perhaps – if Peter isn’t imagining things – Tony might as well be saying: “I still love you.”
Even if neither of them bring that up tonight, Peter is finally able to feel some peace, and some certainty that Tony will always be part of his life, no matter what.
Summary: Set long after THW, set after 'In A Different Form.' Five years after their birth, it's time for their litter to meet the Surface World. It's just a shame that the Night Fury will never be able to enjoy it with them.
Warnings: /
Rating: General
Words: 737
Prompt: Stars
Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon
Characters: Hiccup, Toothless
Pairing: Toothcup
Author’s Notes: Saw that prompt and thought of this Toothcup fic that I wrote a few months ago.
Not edited, I am too tired and saw that I completely forgot to post Day 3. Didn't even remember I wrote it. :')
Enjoy!
-XOXOX-
It was time for their litter to catch a glimps of the surface world. They're almost five years old, they're good fliers, Runt taught them well. Now it was time for them to find out about the world beyond the Birthplace.
It's a long trek for the Night Fury, who hasn't been able to fly for a very, very long time. He's missing a tailfin and the human who used to make it died many years ago. Not that his old age helps matters. Even so, Runt is patient, as he always is. He needed to have patience with his mate, too. When he knew something for a while that took him some time to figure out; that they belonged together.
Their four kits are not as patient, much too eager to get going every time their birth father tells them it's time to let their father catch up. It's not often that they're allowed to leave the nest, let alone be allowed to travel for this far. It doesn't matter that their wings aren't used to this kind of distance yet, they want to keep going.
The Night Fury catches up for the final time, hating how he can't keep up anymore. Climbing up on the cliff they're waiting at him for, he hangs his head, sits and pants. While his daughter and sons are playfighting, Runt comes over to him to lick his crown and nuzzle him. He's telling him that he did a good job making it here, knowing that his mate is older than he can ever dare to fathom. He knows he once knew a time when the humans still used boats made of wood.
He grumbles like the grump that he is. Not that he doesn't appreciate Runt's affection, he loves him more than life itself, he just also wishes he was still as young as he is.
Runt nuzzles him until he nuzzles back and then the two of them lie down and take a breather. Cuddling up, his head on the Night Fury's. Seeing an opportunity, the Runty Son worms his way between his parents and finds the warmest spot that he can get.
They rest for a little while as their litter keeps themselves busy. When Daughter comes to pull on her birth father's earfin to get him up and going, Runt figures it's time to go.
Stretching before rising to his three feet, he accidentally wakes the Night Fury up. He stretches and struggles up, too, many of his joints popping with every little move he makes. Runt whimpers for him, but the grump, grumpy as per usual in his old age, doesn't want his sympathy.
Afterwards, they both look up towards the hole that is their destination. It's one of the ways out of the Birthplace and into the Surface World. Hiccup's world, even though Runt can never remember.
Beyond it is the starry night sky and they've chosen the perfect night. There are no clouds in sight and the moon is full. If there is ever a night to chose to give them a taste of the world above theirs, this is it.
The Runty Son is nervous, but Daughter can hardly wait and her enthusiasm infects her other two brothers. The Night Fury leans down, snips her in the butt and causes her to startle. With a grumble, he reminds her to listen to her birth father and she meekly concedes. She'll listen or be send right back down.
Runt licks the Night Fury's crown as a goodbye and he returns it, licking his chin. Then he does what he usually does to show their litter it is time to take off. He stands near them, looks down at them and spreads his wings. Their offspring follows his example, dutifully standing next to him, their big eyes moving from him to the sky, two butts wiggling in anticipation. They can feel the breeze and they want to soar through it.
He takes off with a strong beat of his wings that almost knocks the four kits over. Luckily, they know to brace themselves and expect it. A moment later, they all follow, Runty Son included, and they leave the Night Fury behind.
He watches, proud with a bittersweet aftertaste, as the five of them take to the starry night sky and disappear. Blending in perfectly with the night, like they were born to do.
Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings, and hope you enjoy this little exploration of Sky’s character. I’m just glad my feral child is sort of cooperating with me lol.
Walking through the streets of Clearline was eerie, Sky thought to himself as he walked alongside the patrol. A small handful of cadets, sent to a relatively quiet portion of Reformation Territory; what could possibly go wrong?
Beside him, Viper was looking around at the buildings with wide, sparkling eyes. The fourteen-year-old sensed Sky’s eyes on him and looked over. “Is this what patrols are always like?” He asked brightly.
Sky hesitated. The Designators were not supposed to make mistakes, but he couldn’t help but believe that they had made a mistake with placing this boy in the military. Viper was the sweetest boy Sky knew, and he felt hard-pressed to imagine the boy lifting a knife and actually killing someone. It twisted his gut in a way he didn’t like.
Fog, the oldest member of the patrol at seventeen, shot Sky and Viper a pointed look. The boys didn’t meet her eyes, each forcing his gaze back to the surroundings. Sky didn’t want to look away from Viper, but looking for threats would ultimately keep him safer than watching Viper himself.
It happened too fast to process. One moment they were walking down a street of what must once have been storefronts. Sky heard the sharp crack of a gunshot a moment before he saw the concrete in front of Fog’s feet explode into tiny shards.
“Ambush!” Fog shouted, as if the entire patrol hadn’t seen and heard already. “Get cover!”
Sky tried. He really did. He watched his squad scatter across the street, finding various covered locations and ducking out of sight of the invisible sniper. His feet moved to join them.
Pain bloomed across his leg. Rough ground scraped his palms and jolted his body as he collapsed. He heard a shriek like a dying animal, and vaguely realized it was his own voice.
“Sky!” Viper, shouting for him. Sky could hear his fear.
“Damnit!” Fog’s voice was shrill with panic. “We have to go!”
“We can’t leave him!” Viper again.
Sky heard footsteps start running back the way his squad had come. Despite the pain making his vision swim and his heart pound, he started to crawl after them, more on instinct than anything.
Dragging himself over the road felt like Sky was tearing his skin off. His leg screamed in protest, and a sound more animal than human echoed it from his lips.
Looking up, his eyes widened. Viper was staring at him from the end of the block. He lifted his arm and waved frantically. "Go!" He shouted. His ears were ringing, and he could barely coordinate his thoughts.
Viper opened his mouth to reply, but a commanding shout came from around the corner, Fog’s voice. "Get your ass over here!"
Sky didn’t think he’d heard her voice like this before. His stomach swirled with panic and pain.
The boy's head snapped to face it. He looked back to Sky, and Sky made the pushing motion at him again. Viper's expression twisted, but the sharp pop of a rifle shot made him run, gone before Sky could process he was leaving. Sky's head dropped, hoping they'd think he'd been hit. For a long moment, all Sky could hear was his footfalls against the pavement. Go, he thought, wishing Viper could hear him. Live.
Silence fell over the battlefield. Sky stayed very still, forcing his breathing to shallow. He heard the enemy chattering quietly among themselves.
"So fucking easy."
"Why'd they even try?"
"Half-trained little bastards."
This last lit a fire in Sky's chest that was unrelated to his injuries, but he held his tongue. Best they think the survivors had all fled. Once they were gone… then what? He couldn't wallk. The thought of trying made his stomach twist.
Time slowed to a halt as the enemy continued to talk. Sky's lungs burned, but he didn't dare give a single sign he was alive.
The voices slowly faded, but it was a while after they disappeared that he dared to lift his head and look up. No sign of them anywhere. Silence fell over the empty street. The birds had left in a panic at the first gunshots, and seemed loathe to return. The only sound was the ringing in his ears and the beat of his own heart.
No sign of his team returning either. Not even Viper had come back to see if he was alive. Sky tried to ignore the tightening of his chest, focusing on breathing evenly and trying to move.Bad idea. His calf throbbed, and any attempt to put weight on it led to pain that cut off all semblance of thought. He wasn't going anywhere fast like this, to say nothing of the blood loss making his head spin.
Sky had only been shot once before, when he was first conscripted. He'd shot himself in the foot, and had been laid up for two weeks. They’d put him through the Silence, with even the doctors refusing to speak to him.
His foot had still ached when they pronounced him healthy and sent him back to the training routine. But the feeling was overshadowed by the fact that they looked at him, talked to him, acknowledged him as more than a bullet hole in a foot.
He’d take the pain over the loneliness any day..
I really don't want to know what they'll do if — WHEN — I get home this time. He thought miserably. Unable to move, he could only try to minimize his movements, put his hands over the wound, and pray to whatever higher power existed that he made it out alive.
Sky had no concept of time. He didn’t look up at the sun, focusing on his leg and trying to keep pressure on it. Despite his best efforts, a puddle of blood began to grow, more oozing out of his wound and staining his hands red.
The scuff of boots on the concrete made Sky's heart jump to his throat. Closing his eyes, he resumed his position, head down and breathing shallow. Just another body, he thought. Please don't look further.
Soft voices approached, and Sky heard rustling and clunking as items and bodies were sifted around. Scavengers, he realized with a cold pool forming in his gut. Here to gather the spoils the survivors had left behind.
Including me.
As the scavengers moved through the battlefield, taking just about anything that had a shred of usefulness, Sky held his breath. Unless his squad miraculously returned to drive them off, there was no doubt he'd be discovered. The question was what the opportunists would do once they found him.
He didn't have long to wonder, as one of them stopped. Sky felt calculating eyes sweep his body, before a deep, slightly raspy voice rose above the chatter. "Hey! Bring the med-kit! This one's still kicking!"
Deception out the window, Sky moved. His knife remained in its sheath, still held to his thigh. Stretching his good arm, he tried to reach the knife. He was in no shape to fight, but he was willing to try over dying to these scrounging scoundrels without a struggle.
His fingers barely brushed the hilt of his knife before the scavenger moved, plucking the blade away from him and straightening up, bringing it hopelessly from the teen’s reach. Sky's frustration escaped him in a snarl, and his hand fell limp to the pavement.
"Easy, buddy." The body in front of him shifted, and Sky saw the man's face. Shaggy red whiskers coated his cheeks, and round brown eyes looked into his own. The expression was foreign to Sky, not anger or fear. There was a hint of confusion, but there was… more concern than anything else. A sort of look that would have been scolded by his commanders. He tried not to think it was the sort of look Viper would give him.
More people approached, all wearing mismatched clothing. Sky couldn't see a single thing tying them together visually other than the sheer randomness of their attire. One of them pulled off her backpack and started sifting through it, while the man who had taken Sky's knife tucked it into his own bag, helplessly out of the injured teen's reach.
Despite his efforts to keep the scavengers away from him, the backpack-wielding woman carefully measured out a dosage of something and prepared to inject it. "Easy, kid." The man who'd discovered him whispered. "You're going to be okay. Just close your eyes."
Sky did not close his eyes; instead, he fought tooth and nail against the needle entering his skin. Adrenaline almost completely wiped the pain from his mind as he cursed the scavengers up and down, even as his muscles grew lethargic and his mind grew foggy with exhaustion.
His eyes only closed when his eyelids were too heavy to keep open.
