Peter’s giggling uncontrollably, his face is red and there’s tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. He’s holding his stomach from how hard he’s laughing.
Tony stares at Peter for a moment. He just can’t take his eyes off his young lover.
It strikes Tony, just then, how beautiful Peter really is. His curls bounce with every emphatic movement and his eyes are big pools of melted chocolate.
Tony feels a soft feeling in his heart. It’s a fluffy warmth that flows through his veins and calms him in a way that nothing ever has. Butterflies swirl through his stomach; it feels like he’s about to vomit, but in a good way.
Tony whispers, “You’re so fucking adorable.”
Peter’s giggles slowly die down.
“What?” He asks.
“You’re so fucking adorable,” Tony repeats.
Peter smiles, hiding his flushed face in his shirt collar. He has an uncontrollable smile, Tony’s words going straight to his heart.
“C’mere,” Tony beckons, “give me a kiss.”
Peter giggles and presses a kiss on Tony’s forehead.
Tony smiles and plants a firm kiss on Peter’s soft, flushed lips.
Rami babysitting Jasmine's little girl for the weekend, and he's got all these amazing things planned for them to do - zoo, ice cream, children's museum - but she just wants to stay at home and watch him do characters. And he's using everything he's ever learned about acting trying to make her happy.
Okay I did the best I could, this kind of took on a life of it’s own but I hope you enjoy this sweet as hell Uncle!Rami fluff.
It was thirty hours into his weekend with his niece Zara and Rami was exhausted. He’d never thought a fun weekend babysitting would ever be so. He wanted to take his niece to go do all kinds of fun things to keep her occupied, and to allow her mind to develop with exposure to culture and art. Unfortunately for him little miss Zara had other plans.
All she wanted to do was play pretend. He was about to implode if he had to pretend to be George or Peppa Pig ever again, but she absolutely loved when he played pretend with her. Zara had proudly declared that afternoon that she wanted to be an actor just like him, and all he could do was chuckle. He’d support her of course, if that is what she wanted to do, and would help guide her way when the time came if that is what she still wanted, but for now he was exhausted.
His only respite was during nap time which required no less than twelve stories and about a hundred different voices. As an actor he loved any opportunity to flex his acting muscles but at this point he was scraping the bottom of the barrel with his skills. Zara was his harshest critic and if she was displeased with any part of his performance she would not hesitate to tell him. She’d already scolded him thrice about one of the voices he was attempting for some dog for the book they had been reading.
At this moment in time, he was currently on his hands and knees playing pony while Zara was riding his back pretending to be a cowgirl, and she wasn’t afraid to dig her heels painfully into his hips and the grip she had on his hair for the reigns was painful but her delighted giggles were well worth the pain.
After a while she got bored, and decides she wants to color for a little bit so he gets a slight reprieve to go make her some lunch which was her favorite mac n cheese, hot dogs and some apple slices. (because what kid doesn’t like mac n cheese and hot dogs?!)
Halfway through making her lunch she comes running into the kitchen and throws herself around his legs.
“I love you Uncle Rami” she squeals as her grip tightens around his knees.
His heart literally melted into a puddle of goo in front of God and everyone as he knelt down to pick her up and give her a soft kiss to her forehead.
“I love you too little one.”
All the money he’d spent to buy tickets to the zoo, museum, and the movies was well worth wasting because every moment he got to spend with his niece were the true moments he cherished. Spending time with her made him realize that something was missing from his life and even though his life was a mess of chaotic schedules and a lot of hard work his heart yearned for something more. A fulfillment that no amount of accolades or awards could ever truly fill. Children. Dammit he wants to have children.
A wet kiss being smacked onto his lips pulled him out of his thoughts, as he reached up to stroke Zara’s hair.
“You are the best little girl ever Z. After lunch do you want to go to the park and play tag with me?”’
“No. I want you to push me on the swings. And go down the slide, then chase me around and play monsters using your scary monster voice, then we will go get ice cream and I can have as many scoops as I want. Then you take me to McDonald’s because I want chicken nuggets and you can’t tell my mommy because she says McDonald’s is gross.”
He just laughs softly as he sets her down to start plating up her lunch,”That’s a tall order to fill kiddo but we’ll see what I can manage. For now you better go to the table because Monster Rami is going to get you and then I’m going to eat your lunch.”
“Noooooooooo!” she dramatically squeals, while placing her hand over her heart and pretending to cry. “Not Monster Rami. Not my food.”
He just smiles again, and can’t help but to think that yup, little miss is going to be one hell of a dramatic actress.
I did literally “jot down” the idea of this story, on the back of a school paper, on Friday. And it’s fluff. So I’m counting it as a Fluffday post. Because fluff. Fluffy fluffy fluff.
***
Steve had become rather accustomed -- okay, dependent -- on Danny to navigate him through huge, life-changing epiphanies. So the fact that Danny wasn’t there for this one would have been humorous, and he might have laughed.
Might have, if he could just breathe.
***
Danny was stuck at the courthouse finishing his deposition after the winter formal fiasco, so it had fallen to Steve to pick up Gracie. He’d been on the approved pick-up list since . . . well, he couldn’t remember, really, when Danny had added him. He sat in the pickup line, thinking back to the days when Grace was in elementary and would come bounding down the steps, her backpack as big as she was. Now she came down the stairs so gracefully, a stylish messenger bag across her shoulder. It was somewhat routine, but still, Grace . . . every time, every damn time, she would get this look of apprehension. Steve had quickly learned to call out a word of reassurance the minute she was within earshot.
“Courthouse,” he yelled through the open window of the passenger door of his truck.
Grace smiled, then, and hopped up into the truck.
“Just a deposition,” Steve assured her. “He’s going to pick up Charlie from your mom’s and meet up at our house. You have homework?”
“Not so much that I couldn’t swim first,” Grace said, grinning at him.
***
Grace was still in the shower, sluicing off the salt water, while Steve started chopping vegetables for the salad to go with the pizza that Danny was going to pick up. Her homework was already spread neatly on the far end of the dining table, and Steve grinned as he passed it with a stack of plates and silverware in hand. Chemistry. Algebra. She’d pulled out the subjects that she might need help with, ones that she knew were his favorites.
It hit him about the time he put down the fourth plate, the smaller, melamine one they used for Charlie, in case his exuberance sent it sailing to the floor. Again.
He wanted this. This. This honestly mundane, completely domestic . . . he wanted this. The two kids, the bittersweet balance of alone time and kid time that came with shared custody, the homework, the dinner, the laundry, the smell of Gracie’s shampoo, Charlie’s sticky kisses, and Danny . . . waiting for Danny’s step on the porch. Tonight.
Every night.
Waiting for Danny to be there . . . like a sixth sense, watching, waiting, listening, restless until Danny was there, to fill the Danny-sized void that he felt, like a missing limb, like a phantom pain, when Danny wasn’t there, next to him, where he belonged.
He had a fleeting thought that maybe it was the shared liver until he realized that he’d felt this way since . . . well, at least since Danny’s visits in prison, his lifeline . . . definitely since Danny had flung back the canvas on that truck in North Korea . . . absolutely since he’d gone to Columbia and pulled him out of that hell-hole . . .
“Uncle Steve?” Gracie was standing at the end of the table, halted mid-way through pulling out her pencils and calculator, looking at him curiously. “You okay?”
He wasn’t. He wasn’t okay, not by a long shot. He was absolutely terrified.
A muffled, gentle kick at the door. Steve knew without conscious thought, could picture Danny, balancing pizzas in one hand, holding tight to Charlie’s hand with the other -- the kid was adorable, for sure, but he was also completely and totally reckless and unpredictable, and fast, they’d discovered, that time he’d gone chasing after a cute little gecko and Danny’s knee gave out and it had fallen to Steve to catch up to the toddler, who laughed uproariously when Steve had tossed him into the air and caught him, and blew a raspberry on his belly, and --
“Coming, Danno,” Gracie was yelling, looking at Steve quizzically over her shoulder as she went to the door.
“Hey, Monkey,” Danny said, as the door opened, and they somehow managed a seamless handoff of both pizza and Charlie, Danny kissing her on the cheek in the process. Grace, Charlie, and pizza headed toward the dining room. “I’ve got a cold six-pack in the car, be right back,” Danny tossed over his shoulder.
Steve stood in the doorway, watching as Danny hustled back to the Camaro, his slippahs padding softly. He’d changed into a t-shirt which might have shrunk just a bit in the wash, the way it pulled over his broad shoulders and powerful back, and as he leaned into the car to grab the Longboards, Steve noticed the curve of his ass, hugged perfectly by faded, low slung shorts. Steve ran one shaky hand over his face as his other arm propped him against the doorway. He’d known, obviously, that Danny was a very attractive person, hell, anyone not legally blind would notice that, Kono had certainly made more than her fair share of inappropriate comments, especially after that little undercover situation, which had prompted her to declare loudly, without inhibition, to the entire office, that Danny was an amazing kisser and . . .
Okay, so armed with that knowledge and apparently an overwhelming episode of self-awareness, Steve realized that not only was Danny attractive, generally, he, Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett was attracted to him, specifically.
Like, specifically and sexually, which, what even and oh, hell yes, there, his anatomy was already well ahead of his brain.
“You okay?” Danny asked, looking at him exactly like Gracie had.
And again, no, no, he wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. He was absolutely terrified, and of course, his adrenaline-crazed system did sometimes equate terror and excitement -- okay, he’d admit it to himself even if he’d denied it vehemently to Danny, not that he thought Danny had ever believed him, and he was even pretty sure he’d caught Danny sneaking a peek to see just *how* literally accurate his assertion was that ‘maniacal, reckless plans and generalized explosives turn you on Steven, I swear to God’ . . .
“Steve?” Danny asked. He’d reached the top of the stairs and his head was tilted, the same identical head tilt on Gracie and Charlie -- and how, how had Rachel ever thought she could deny that Charlie, blond, blue-eyed, sunshine personified Charlie was Danny’s -- the three of them, all three of them, with the head tilt, and the way they made Steve feel home and mine and love . . .
Danny snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s face, trying to get his attention.
“Hey, honey, I’m home,” he joked.
Steve would admit later that he might have made a strangled noise, but if so, it was a very SEAL-like noise, and most emphatically not a whimper, no, definitely not a whimper as he reached, frantically, for Danny’s shoulders and hauled him to his chest. Danny stiffened in surprise until he got with the program and let the bag slip down gently out of his hand until it could thunk, unharmed, those last couple inches onto the porch.
“Danny,” Steve murmured, one big hand coming up to cradle Danny’s head. “Danny, you’re home. Do you get it? You and the kids, you’re everything that is home to me. God, Danny, I want -- I need -- I -- you, Danny. You and the kids, it’s --”
Danny’s arms wrapped around him, murmuring nonsense, like he would to soothe Charlie. And at that point, Steve thought, he could pull this off, he could pull himself together, slap Danny on the back and give him one of his sincere -- God, how sincere, he hadn’t even known -- ‘love you, buddy’ hugs, tell him that he was just damn glad to have him and the kids there, you know, this was really nice, partner, sharing an evening together. Punch him on the shoulder, thank him for the beer, let’s eat and then you can play with Charlie while I help Grace with chemistry and --
And then, he realized, that Danny had noticed. Danny had noticed, if his sudden stillness and his stunned but careful pulling away from Steve was any indication and oh shit, oh shit, Danny’s teenage daughter was in the house, if Danny noticed, then Danny might misunderstand and --
No. Steve would rather risk losing Danny’s respect than losing his trust so he blurted it out --
“It’s you, Danny, it’s because of you, I swear to God.”
“It’s -- come’ere, you goof . . .” and Danny was reaching for him and pulling him close again and . . .
Oh, thank fuck, Danny didn’t misunderstand, Danny was on board with this very new development, apparently, unless he had, like, Charlie’s sippy cup or something in his pocket. And then Danny’s hands were reaching, one wrapping around his neck and one tugging a bit impatiently at his shoulder and --
“You giraffe, what --”
And Steve could work with that, he could, hell, everyone he’d ever kissed so far in his life had been shorter than him, he knew how to make this work, he could show Danny and so he did. He really did, if Danny’s slightly blown pupils were any indication when they paused for air a few minutes later.
“I didn’t know, Danny, I . . . I meant it, I always meant it, I’ve loved you and the kids -- God, I love the kids -- but I didn’t know, not until tonight, I just -- “
Danny smiled up at him, soft and fond.
“You knew,” Steve said. “How?”
“Well, not my first rodeo, Steve,” Danny said, a little wistful, but mostly still a lot turned on.
“Oh. I -- oh. Oh, see, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” Steve said. “I didn’t know. Until I did. If you knew, Danny, why didn’t you -- why didn’t you say something, why --”
Danny leaned around Steve and grinned at Gracie and Charlie who were shamelessly observing the whole thing, Grace with a slice in one hand and her cell phone in the other, Charlie looking a little confused but mostly happy.
“I couldn’t risk our friendship,” Danny said. “I couldn’t risk Uncle Steve. I had to be sure, Steven. When you have kids, you have to be sure.”
He looked back at Steve, his eyes questioning, challenging.
“You can be sure,” Steve said firmly. He cupped Danny’s face in his hands and kissed him again, slipping one hand down into Danny’s back pocket. “You can be sure of everything,” Steve whispered, a promise for later, for a time when they didn’t have the kids.
“Right now,” Danny said, clearing his throat and stepping away from Steve reluctantly, “I’m sure we have some dinner and possibly some explaining to do.”
Steve heard Grace’s giggle behind him and jumped as if he’d been tased. He felt his ears turn hot.
“You’re funny, Uncle Steve,” Charlie declared. “You jumped but Grace didn’t say boo.”
***
Late that night, Danny peeked in the door to the guest room.
“It’s late, Monkey,” he chided gently. “Put the cell phone down and get some sleep.”
“Ok, Danno,” Grace said. She peeked at him slyly over the top of her phone. “Sweet dreams.”
He pointed at her in mock sternness. “Okay, no wisecracks from the peanut gallery.”
She giggled again. “Danno?”
“Yeah, Grace?” Teenagers. They could sit silent from school pick up to eleven pm, and just as you reached the end of your energy, that’s when they wanted to get into the deep conversations. Danny took a deep breath, ready, regardless of his fatigue, to answer whatever and as many questions as Grace had. He was only a tiny, tiny bit aware of Steve cleaning up in the kitchen, only a little bit conscious of the coffee brewing and the Irish whiskey that Steve had pulled down from the top cabinet. Grace came first, always, and the man waiting to make him an Irish coffee and hopefully kiss him senseless knew that, and that’s why this was going to work.
“I’m glad Uncle -- I’m glad Steve decided to pick a different base,” Grace said. “Finally.”
What kinda fluff should I do? Ahhhh~ I could try Flashwave? Hmm.. Coldflash, Speedster Family? Damian (gen)? Spideypool? Spidey & Avengers? So many choices...
Tony inspects the fuzzy creature that Peter brought into their home.
It’s a tiny kitten. It’s small and pitiful, but cute nonetheless. It’s fluffy with a white, beige, and gray calico pattern on its fur.
“I named her Tilly,” Peter says, holding her up like Simba.
Tony nods, “How do you know it’s a girl?”
“Well,” Peter says with the ‘I’m going to spend about five hours explaining this’ voice, “most calico cats are girls. Likewise, most orange tabby cats are male. It’s genetics-”
“Cool,” Tony says, cutting Peter off, “so, why Tilly?”
“I think it’s a pretty name,” Peter says.
Tony watches as Tilly stumbles her way around the penthouse floor. She lets out small mewls of distress and Peter immediately scoops her up. Her mewls die down into a low purr. She starts kneading her tiny paws into Peter’s forearm.
Me too, Tony thinks, amused. He uses his index finger to scritch the small kitten’s head.
Tilly looks up at Tony with wide eyes that sparkle. They’re captivating and sweet.
Tony sighs, maybe this new addition to the family isn’t such a bad idea after all.
Peter tastes dust in his mouth, feels it scorching his lungs like the fire that surrounds him. Tons of broken concrete lay atop his mangled body as he cries for help. He’s crying, pleading for someone to help him.
No one answers.
He’s alone. He’s going to die. His voice is hoarse from screaming and his eyes are red from crying.
He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.
Peter’s eyes shoot open, his heart is racing in his chest, his lungs feel crushed, he can’t breathe. He’s gasping for air, desperately trying to ground himself in this reality.
He looks around wildly, expecting to see broken concrete and raging fires.
Instead, it’s the endless darkness of his - and Tony’s - bedroom. The room is cold, but he’s buried underneath piles of blankets.
Tears are streaming down his face, hiccups bubble up his throat as he tries to stop himself from trembling.
He feels fidgety, shaky. He’s rocking himself back and forth as he tries to calm himself down.
Visions of that night play on repeat behind his eyelids, reminding him of his hubris, telling him of his misdeeds. The weight of an entire building on him and the painful heat of the fire surrounding him. The blood that leaked through his cuts and the blood that he choked up in the bathroom sink.
“Peter,” a calming voice says through the madness.
Peter shakes his head, “Make it stop. make it stop.”
“You’re okay,” the voice says, it wavers in its certainty, “Peter, listen to me, you’re going to be okay. It’s me, Tony.”
Peter’s mind pauses. It’s like he’s going through a factory reset.
“Tony?” Peter asks, looking for the older man in the darkness.
Tony breathes a small sigh of relief, “Yes, I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”
Peter sniffs and reaches to hug Tony through the darkness. They hold each other for a moment, trying to ground each other in the moment.
“What happened, baby?” Tony asks, “Why were you so upset?”
Peter whispers, “I had a nightmare.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Tony asks, rubbing circles in Peter’s back.
Peter says, “It was the night with the vulture when he-”
Peter cuts himself off with a choked sob.
“It’s okay,” Tony says, “it’s okay.”
“I thought I was going to die,” Peter says through hiccups, “and I was so afraid, Tony. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so alone.”
“You were alone,” Tony says, there’s venom to it - toward himself. It’s not a secret that Tony hates himself for how he acted. Taking away Peter’s suit will probably remain one of Tony’s bigger regrets. He left Peter alone, no help, no one there with him in his corner. The very thing that he had sworn he’d never do.
“Tony,” Peter says with a sudden sternness, “it wasn’t your fault. I should’ve just listened to you, then none of that would’ve happened.”
“If I had just listened to you then none of it would’ve happened,” Tony counters.
Peter sniffs.
They stay wrapped up together, their heart rates slowing and their minds fogging with the blissful peace of sleepiness.
Baking cookies with Snafu maybe like “you’ve got flour on your nose!!” or something
This is sooooo adorable and I love it!!!! Thank you for your request.
You’d been baking with Snafu all afternoon and he’d started to really get into it.
Snapping a few random pics of him as discreetly as you could was hard but he looked so adorable bare chested wearing one of your late grandmothers full aprons with the lace edging.
He was currently bent over the oven checking the sixth batch of sugar cookies that you two had made for the bake sale at your kids school tomorrow.
Merriell took his job as a dad seriously, so when your daughter told him that she’d signed you and him up for the bake sale goods without your knowledge… he was not going to back down.
Your daughter Hélène and you were decorating the cookies, while daddy tended to the baking part.
It wasn’t common knowledge that he was really good at it, but it was something that he’d picked up when he got home from the war.
He always said the monotony, the precise measurements and the timing had to all be perfect which allowed his mind to settle when he got restless.
Your waistlines were all starting to suffer at the constant never ending sweet treats and home made breads he was constantly baking.
These days he just bakes for the hell of it, because he enjoys it.
You walk over to him placing a soft kiss to his cheek
“I love you Mer,” you said, as he pulls you into his arms.
“I love you to Cher.”
You giggled softly and swiped at his perfect nose
“What’s so funny YN?”
“You’ve got some flour on your nose,” you pointed out as you kiss the tip of his nose.
