Tessa Thompson’s Cheekbones. That's it.

So much had changed in those five years you were gone, but you still hated this dress. It made you look like a fridge, it was too boxy. You wouldn’t have minded if it showed off just a little shape, but your figure just disappeared, poof. 

You didn’t just hate the plain black dress because of how it looked. Wearing it meant bad news. Every time you put it on it was all because you lost someone. You wore a similar one years ago when your mother died, which prompted her boss, Nick Fury to move you into the Avengers compound, where you trained with Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. 

Wanda helped you learn how to control your powers. As a rather… gifted mutant, you had the power to control the elements around you as well as change how you looked. Your elemental abilities were very dependent on your emotions, and Wanda helped you channel your fear into strength. Strength that fed courage, which in turn only made your power stronger. Wanda was kind of an expert at channeling her fear, hate, and pain into unleashing complete destruction, so Natasha saw it only fit that you honed your craft with her.

Wanda taught you how to fight, but Natasha taught you how to kill. You never needed to resort to those tactics until very recently. Five years ago, actually, but you wished you never had to use those. You always had your power to rely on, but Nat knew that you’d be defenseless if your abilities weren’t always enough. She trained with you day and night until you managed to take her down while sparring, then she decided you were ready to go out on missions.

That was seven years ago. You were fifteen. She and Wanda would get on a quinjet with Steve and Sam to Lagos that night. The Avengers didn’t last a week after that.

She promised she’d take you on a mission someday. But that was seven years ago. That was the last time you saw her. 

Now she was gone. Dead. Trying to save you. Because you were family. The daughter she never had, the mother you lost.

You hardly knew your birth mom by the time she died. You were very young when she passed, and she was always on missions, which is starting to sound familiar. Your father was completely absent the whole time you were under her care. She rarely talked about him, you didn’t even know if he was dead or alive, which was why you so quickly made yourself comfortable under the wing of one Mr. Anthony Edward Stark.

He made a habit of finding gifted children and becoming their father figure within the first 24 hours of meeting them. You were first, only twelve when you first met him. It was just after the Battle of New York, when Fury moved you into Avengers tower. Tony almost immediately adopted you on the spot, he couldn’t bare to see a kid as bright as you suffer the loss of a parent. Soon after came Harley, a boy about your age whose garage Tony had broken into.

Then came Peter Parker. You had only met him during the split of the Avengers. Both of you fought on Tony’s side, obviously, and for the next two years, you kept in touch. He’d visit the compound from time to time, more so after Tony had invited him on the team. His little weekend visits were the highlight of your week, Peter quickly becoming your best friend in the absence of most of your mentors. Nothing like losing a surrogate mother to bring two kids together.

But today you had to face the nasty truth that you had lost both of your parental figures. First Natasha, who you never got to say goodbye to, then Tony, just after. If your losing all contact with Nat had brought you close to Peter, then the two of you watching the father figure you both shared die in front of you has bound you for life, which is why you, in your boxy black dress made of the world’s itchiest fabric, were clutching at Peter’s jacket, burying your face in his chest, your tears inevitably staining his white dress shirt. It was obvious that he was beyond caring as he just held you. He wrapped his arms around your shaking shoulders and squeezed for as long as you needed him to, ready to let go if you asked him to, but you never did.

He offered you his tie to dab your eyes with, but you didn’t need it. You just let the tears pouring from your eyes like a hurricane of uncontrollable sorrow fall and cut dull lines on your cheeks until all streaks blurred together into one muddled mess. You decided against makeup for this occasion, knowing you wouldn’t be able to stop crying long enough to put your mascara on.

Both of you wept the whole service, not stopping even afterwards, the two of you choosing a spot on the docks overlooking the lake to sit. The water was still, only rippling when a gentle breeze created an unsettled wave across the surface. You both still clung to one another. Harley came by to say hello and check on you, but left after a minute. You hadn’t seen him in a while and you definitely weren’t in the right state of mind to catch up now. Seeing as you were a total mess, he made small talk with Peter during his short visit.

“So you’re the other one.”

“Yeah, Harley, right?”

“Yep, you must be Peter?”

He nodded and gestured for the boy to sit.

“He’d be happy to know we finally met.”

“Yeah, he would.” Peter looked down at his hands and sniffled, “Just wish he could have introduced us.”

“Me too. That’s how Y/N and I met.”

Suddenly you were twelve years old again, having a horrible nightmare and not having your mother or nanny to hold you anymore. You walked around the tower for a little while, somehow wandering into one of Tony’s workspaces. You saw another person working with him, a child. Tony saw you and introduced you to the boy, his name was Harley. He was visiting Mr. Stark while his mom and sister went on a camping trip with her girl scout troop. The three of you spent the next two days watching TV in the penthouse, like a family.

You wanted nothing more than to be there again, the comfy white couch supporting your back as you curled against the plush pillows and used Tony’s knees as a footrest while colorful cartoons you watched as a little kid danced across the fancy holographic screen. Harley had a bowl of ice cream, sharing some with you if he felt nice, which he always did, because his big brother instincts kicked in and he wanted to keep you happy.

The wind picked up around you and the lake quivered, shaking you from your daydream. When you glanced up from the water, Harley was gone, and Peter was wiping his already red and bloodshot eyes on his coat sleeve. You finally lifted your head from his shoulder for the first time since sitting down and stretched your stiff neck, cracking every joint in the process.

“Jesus Christ…” Peter almost chuckled at the noise, but he couldn’t muster the energy to do so.

“Yeah, I know…” You’d normally laugh with him, but you couldn’t be bothered.

“Kids, have you eaten yet?” Pepper’s heels on the wood signaled her arrival.

“Not hungry.”

“You guys need to eat something.” You could hear the strain in her voice. She was exhausted, obviously, her voice was heavy with the weight of the past few nights she’s spent sleeping in Morgan’s bed, or at least trying to. She hadn’t been able to rest since Tony had, “Come on, there’s food in the house.”

She probably hadn’t eaten either.

“Guys…” Pepper begged, “Please eat. It would make me feel better if I knew you guys were taken care of.”

“I don’t deserve it.” You felt the tears prick your eyes again, but you kept them in, for Pepper.

“Of course you do,” she crouched down next to you on the dock, “He knew you did. He did what he did to save you.”

“So it’s all our fault?”

“No. Don’t you dare dismiss his choice to give up his life so you, and Peter, and Harley, and Morgan–” she took a deep breath and collected herself, sniffling a little and wiping her eyes clear of the tears that threatened to spill out, “Look at that little girl over there. You think any of this is her fault?”

“No.”

“Then why are you blaming yourself, Y/N?”

“She’s right, there’s nothing we could have done,” Peter whispered and clutched your hand so tight both of your knuckles turned white. You knew they were right, but it was easier to blame yourself than to think that Tony wanted this. You also knew he wouldn’t want you feeling guilty. You knew what a self-sacrificial bastard he was, so to blame yourself was a futile task, because if he were there he’d tell you just that: 

It’s not your fault, kid, you’re alive, we won. Don’t be so hard on yourself, I love you. Take care of Spidey, alright?

“So, how about you guys eat?”

“I’m still not hungry.”

“Did you eat yesterday?”

“Yes,” you lied.

“She didn’t,” said Peter, that fucking rat.

“Scott brought pasta, you used to love ziti.” Pepper stroked your arm and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I’ll eat if you eat.” Peter rose to his feet and offered you his hand. You managed to stand on your shaky giraffe legs and walk back to the house, where Morgan sat on the porch swing with Happy eating cheeseburgers. 

Pepper led you to the kitchen, where there were tupperwares full of food that guests brought for her and Morgan. She opened up one container full of baked ziti. Steam curled around in the air above the food, out from under the thick spread of cheese and tomato sauce. Pepper reached towards the drawer with all the utensils and took out one large serving spoon, taking a bowl down from the cabinet. She scooped some ziti into the bowl and handed it to you. You sat down at the kitchen table while Peter was served.

He sat down next to you and shoveled the food into his mouth, barely stopping to realize how hot it was. You could see his face scrunched up in pain after the bite, but you weren’t sure whether it was from the food or the occasion. Pepper sat down across from you and waited for you to take your first bite.

“Where’s your dinner?” You asked.

“I already ate.”

“Bullshit, Pep.”

“Y/N–”

“It would make me feel a lot better if I knew you were taking care of yourself,” you parroted back her words. Pepper opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t say anything. She got up, spooned a scoop of ziti into her bowl, sitting back down and waiting for you to eat. You finally scooped some food into your mouth and suddenly realized how hungry you were; you hadn’t eaten in days. You realized how Peter was able to eat that much in such little time.

After your bowls were long empty, after you had said goodbye to Steve, after the sun finally sunk below the lake, you and Peter returned to your original spot on the dock.

“What do we do now that he’s gone?” He whimpered, clenching his jaw to stop anymore tears from falling.

“We do exactly what he would have wanted us to do: Live our lives, make up for the last five years that we missed, go be 22-year-old teenagers.”

“As long as I’m not going into that alone.”

“No way in hell I’d let that happen anyway. Not to Tony’s kids,” a voice spoke up behind you. The voice belonged to a woman, one you had heard on the battlefield before, it oozed confidence despite coming out a bit hoarse. Turning around, you and Peter saw a woman with short blonde hair and a nice suit.

“Peter Parker, right?” She offered him her hand, “Carol Danvers. I don’t think we had a chance to introduce ourselves out there. You must be Y/N,” she said, turning to you and smiling weakly, “Nat talked about you a lot. Losing you really just… it tore her apart. That woman loved you so much, you know.”

“Thanks, but that won’t bring her back.”

“No. It won’t. But she did love you. She always said she wished she could have said it more.”

“Me too.”

“You never had to, she knew. She knows now, wherever she is.” Peter snaked his arm back around your shoulders and hugged you tighter. His hand brushed your hair behind your ear and cradled your head.

“The kid’s right. You guys are cute.”

“What?” Peter removed his arm from you and scooted a few inches away. You were almost too confused to miss the contact; you still missed it, though.

“You make a cute couple.”

Both of you chimed in a resounding chorus of “Oh no” and “we’re not– we’re just friends–“ the reaction you normally give when someone mistakes you for a couple.

“Really? Huh.”

“Yeah, he’s like my brother!” 

“And it would just be weird for us, I mean, we’re best friends!”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…”

“So… yeah. Okay, my mistake. But it got you guys thinking about something else for a lil bit.” A small smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Thanks, Carol.”

“Any time. Y/N, do you need a ride back to the tower?”

“Is that where you’re headed?”

“Yeah, figure I’d stay and help out, since Sam doesn’t have a whole lot of experience in management outside of a Taco Bell just off his college campus.”

Okay, that earned a chuckle out of you.

You turned to Peter, “You coming?”

“Of course. I’m not gonna let you be alone, either.”

~Super Old Taglist~