i will be king

     the knowledge that a multiverse exists doesn’t surprise him. tony knew that other worlds existed,  but he just never thought he’d have to face repercussions of such firsthand.   it makes him wonder who’s the one in the right universe  —   him  ?   or the others  ?   or,  even more curious,  if all of them have been misplaced.

     the thought is too…   bendy.   wishy-washy.   it’s not as concrete of a hypothesis as he’d hope,  but it’s something,  alright.   &,  of course:   most science had started as wishy-washy until tests were done to prove otherwise.

     tony knows he had it lucky.   at least,  compared to his other self,  who he’s sure died in some permanent fashion.   the thought is saddening,  sure;   but tony can’t help that.   he’s not his other self.   sure,  they share the same name…   but he’s not the tony that the others seem to know.   &,  frankly,  he’s not going to sit around  &  pretend he is.   he moved here to heal after his coma,  &  somehow:   he’s acquired a flock of kids,  he’s reunited with bruce  &  stephen,  he’s been sober for months,  &  things are good.   they can be so good if tony would let himself be happy,  &  he’s trying to be  !   he deserves to be  !   tony should not have to be guilted for not being the person everyone else expected him or wanted him to be.   so no.   he’ll grab the chance that he has to be happy.

     so if he wants to have a mechanic shop,  let him  !

     he’s just working on replacing a spark plug when he hears his name called, looking up to see a kid he doesn’t recognise behind him.   he may not recognise the kid…   but the kid surely recognises him.   a ghost from his other self’s past, perhaps  ?   who knows.   something about the kid makes him feel especially horrible for not knowing him.   “  yeah,  kid  ?  you alright  ?  ”

this isn’t his tony, if he even has any right to call him such. but he knows, if aliens exist, surely parallel dimensions must exist as well. harley isn’t just some dumb kid, regardless of what people think, he’s smart. maybe not as smart as any iteration of tony stark, but he’s smart enough to know that if “norse gods” are real,  it’s only right that there should be more than one tony stark. 

he’s smart enough to know that his tony is dead and not coming back. he’d been to the funeral.

this isn’t his tony. but he’s a tony, a living tony, and that’s more than good enough in his opinion. 

he reminds himself that this tony didn’t come crashing into his life, didn’t keep in touch up until the very end, didn’t unknowingly become the only real father figure in his life. but it’s alright because at least he’s here. 

“i uh-” he coughs, clearing his throat, trying to temper his voice to avoid getting too choked up. “yeah, i’m fine, i’m sorry i didn’t mean to just come barging in. you uh, don’t know me, right?” he doesn’t mean to sound so dejected, really. “sorry, it’s just, i knew you. a version of you. he, um, he had a big impact on my life. i know you’re not him but...i’m happy you’re here, and alive. you look better than he did, happier, and that’s good. really good.” harley realizes he’s probably weirding tony out big time but he just can’t stop the stilted word vomit. 

     jason was reorganizing the same section of the store for the third time that day. this was getting ridiculous. he was a grown-ass man and there was no way he was going to lose this battle of wits to an eleven-year-old who couldn’t even get through a hundred pages long book. like, really? ❛ fucking kids, man, ❜ he murmured under his breath, placing the last book in the proper position so the whole young adult section wouldn’t spell penis repeatedly. ❛ anything i can help you with? ❜ he asked without looking at who he assumed was a costumer.

“you gotta admit, though, takes some serious dedication to get them all arranged like that.” of course richie tozier appreciated a good penis joke every now and again, but they came here on a mission. “actually yeah, i’m looking for an illustrated book on birds. but like, not a kids book, ya feel?” 

“For Crowley’s sake…”

Baz was thrilled to get out of the states, but he seemed to be thrown right back into it. At least he knew where he was the first time around, now he didn’t know where he was. He just wanted to go home, he wanted to go home to Simon. 

“Which circle of hell am I in?”

“mate, i’ve got no clue. i saw some girl walking around the city, completely starkers, the other day. people out here raving on about how they don’t know how they got here. whatever circle we’re in, it’s full of lunatics.”

“no, hey, shshsh…” isaac’s trying his best, okay? it’s late, and melissa had, of course, gotten a cold as soon as the weather turned, so she’s crying her eyes out because she’s stuffed up, and that only makes her more stuffed up, so she cries some more, and it’s a vicious cycle.

which means a late-night ( it’s only nine pm, but that’s so, so late for a man who works at seven am and has a three year old daughter ) run to the grocery store to pick up a few things.

cough syrup, peanut butter… damn, what else?

he’s so far into his own head that he doesn’t even notice that he’s walking into the section where the carts are kept… where there are currently no carts. in fact, the last one is walking away from him right now.

he curses, more mouthing it than anything else - little pitchers and all that - before turning on his heel and steeling himself for a shitty interaction.

“excuse me?” he calls out, stepping towards the other. “i don’t normally… i don’t normally pull this card, but i really need a cart, my daughter’s really fussy right now, and i can’t hold her and all our groceries at the same time, and i really, really hate to ask-” he feels his cheeks burn with embarrassment already, actually, given that he looks like a mess, he’s in his pajamas, and melissa’s still crying on his hip, “we can share the cart, if you want, i just really need it.”

billy rolls in on the cart he’d rescued from the far reaches of the parking lot, he pack bonded okay? it looked so sad and faded and he just had to give it another chance at life. 

he wheels in just in time to see some douchecanoe take the last cart and completely blow off mr. lahey. first of all, rude. second of all, rude as hell. isaac’s literally the softest man alive, how do you say no to him? and especially when he’s got a crying missy on his hip. wait, why is missy crying? 

“here, mr. lahey, you can use my cart!” he’d been sent out by peter to get snacks for the apartment, but really, he doesn’t need a whole cart. he’ll just end up filling it with garbage food anyway. it’s for the best, really. 

“mister stark isn’t running an engineering firm anymore though, dad! i really don’t want to bother him, not when he seems so happy relaxing.” peter sighs, resting his chin on his elbows. “i don’t know… i already told mister beck that i accepted the position.”

he probably should’ve asked his family for advice before accepting. hindsight and all that.

“five thinks the world’s going to implode and die off because people are inherently terrible! he’d say it was a bad idea no matter what.” he’s just trying to convince himself it’s a good idea, at this point, since the decision’s already been made.

“so you’re asking advice on something you’ve already decided?” his tone isn’t condescending like it would’ve been years ago, or accusatory because he isn’t actually mad. it’s gentle and understanding. he would never begrudge peter a chance at furthering his career. that’s not what fathers are for. 

“well, it’s an internship, right? if, one day, you decide you don’t like it you can just walk out. you’re not obligated to stay, it’s not like you don’t have a million other opportunities waiting for you out there.”

stephen has a good, long laugh. peter’s description of his adopted brother is surprisingly accurate. “his intuition hasn’t failed him yet, and neither has yours. i trust your judgment, peter, and you should too. if you think this internship deserves a shot, then go for it.” 

@fckarchetypes || STEVE ;;

billy’s been watching steve since they sat down to eat, a question obviously on the tip of his tongue. he’s surprised it hasn’t put steve off his meal, given how intently billy’s been watching him.

he waits until steve’s taken a decent sized bite - can’t interrupt him if he’s got his mouth full, after all - before voicing his question, finally.

“what do you think about dogs? about having a dog in the apartment?”

steve’s his roommate, after all - safety in numbers, safety in familiarity, even if they rubbed each other the wrong way more often than not - it’s only fair that billy should ask him.

“they’re supposed to be therapeutic.” it sounds like a dirty word. before this… whole thing, billy would’ve knocked out anyone who said the word therapy to him. “or something.”

or something sums up billy’s approach to a lot of things. he’s extended his hand to help king steve harrington more than he’d ever thought possible, always with his head turned away so he didn’t have to see steve look so goddamn grateful, as though him helping steve with anything at all was purely on accident. or something.

he’s not...unnerved necessarily. having billy watch him so blatantly used to put him on edge, but since moving in together as roommates, steve’s sort of gotten used to it. which is why he’s managing not to throw his fork across the room and as billy what his fucking problem is. he’d say it’s progress and he wouldn’t be wrong. 

he’s mid-bite when billy finally says what’s on his mind. and steve almost chokes. they don’t have “domestic” conversations. it’s rare that they even eat together, especially with steve’s work schedule. so for something like this to pop up is, admittedly, a little shocking. 

steve has to remind himself to swallow before answering. “a dog?” very eloquent, harrington. nicely done.

don’t get him wrong, he loves dogs, he’s always wanted a dog. instead he got demodogs. 

he’s not sure having another living being with them would be great, of course it’d be an adjustment. or even an extremely stressful life experience. 

and he’s always wanted a dog. and if billy’s therapist think’s it’s a good idea, who is he to say no? he never pitied billy, never felt sorry for him because he knows that’s not what billy wants. instead, he offers endless patience, a sense of normality. 

having a dog is normal. normal is good for both of them.

“sure you do.” marshall lee rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “you always look like a snack. and i’m not being gross about wanting to suck your blood this time, either.”

there are distinct flour outlines of hands, far too big to be beau’s, on the seat of beau’s jeans. marshall lee wonders who could possibly have put those there… hm! he doesn’t mind admiring them, however, righting himself to sit up as beau requests the bowl.

“i offered to help you frost stuff, you know.” he’s a menace that has piped frosting directly into his mouth without fail every time beau’s ever handed him a bag. and a few times when beau had merely left it unattended long enough. “here.”

taking the bowl, marshall lee holds it just out of beau’s reach, pulling it back as beau reaches for it. “ah ah ah…! kiss toll if you want to use the bowl, pretty boy.”

“would you stop calling me a snack?!” beau tries to swat marshall lee’s leg but it’s too high up. he knows, objectively, that people find him attractive. the number of customers that flirt with him sometimes makes him uncomfortable. he’s only ever really able to respond when marshall lee does it though, it’s become so commonplace. 

“and have you eat half the frosting in the process? never again. i had to make a naked cake one time because you ate everything!” he goes to grab the bowl, pouting frowning when the menace holds it out of reach. damn his “height” advantage. 

@fckarchetypes || PROKO ;;

“you should never ever have let me come in here, alexei, shame on you!” 

adrian tries to look chastising, but is easily distracted by the puppies in the playpen in front of them. “oh, they’re so sweet! hello, babies!”

of course, their trip to the mall, just for one thing, had gotten derailed. adrian is gonna end up with a puppy by the end of the day, he can already feel it. “do you think that fella of yours would let you bring home a puppy? who could say no to a face like this?” one of the puppies is plucked up from the playpen, cradled in adrian’s arms, the man squealing excitedly from how cute it is. “you are the sweetest who ever lived! i could just eat you up!”

“you dragged me in here!” proko giggles, he’s already going from puppy to puppy, showering them with praise and affection.

he always does this, he always stops in to look at the animals whenever he comes to the mall, adrian just happened to be here with him this time. he’s glad to know he’s not the only one who does this sort of thing. 

“oh he’ll definitely let me, for sure, no doubt. hundred percent. all i gotta do is say please.” kavinsky may have proko wrapped around his finger but there’s no one who knows how to work kavinsky better than proko. he usually gets what he wants if he asks for it in a cute way. “it’s just so hard to choose because i want all of them. and that would probably get a ‘no’.”

@fckarchetypes || KLAUS ;;

“klaus, my darling, my beautiful and lovely man-child! lipstick kiss, incoming.” adrian is in full euphoria mode, has been all night. euphoria is something of a goddess, flitting around the bar and mingling with her fans, and it’s taken her far too long to spot her very favourite androgynous hippie icon among the crowd.

pressing a kiss to klaus’ cheek, adrian euphoria grins at him. “i was wondering if i was ever going to be treated to your face again. how is your sweet little brother? still full of the vinegar?”

she’s already holding klaus’ wrist, to keep him from disappearing into thin air again. “are you in any position for me to get you a drink? i know you’re on the wagon. or, at least, you were.”

“euphoria, looking as radiant as always.” klaus makes a point of visiting his usual haunts at least once a month, just because he’s on the wagon doesn’t mean he can’t see his friends. and euphoria adrian is one of his favourites, it’s no real secret, he used to hang around the bar almost every night just to see her.

he presses a kiss to her cheek in return, falling easily into the casual affection like it hadn’t been forever since he’d been here. “still full of piss and vinegar, still way too much fun to tease.”

as adam leaves him to his own devices, gansey peers into the engine of the car adam had been working on. he doesn’t really know all that much about cars, despite how often the pig breaks down. something tells him he’s had help fixing it in the past.

as adam returns, speaking to gansey, he turns back to him, pausing at the sight of him.

if gansey’s gaze drops to the solid three inches of thigh bared by adam’s shorts, neither of them comment on it. it takes its time rising, scraping over adam’s stomach, his chest, his jaw, before finally fixing itself on adam’s face. catching himself staring, gansey pulls himself together into something reasonably polite, a smile blossoming. “i hadn’t realized you’d been adopted. mazel tov.”

the pig is parked out front of the garage, colour damn near matching the sky with how far the sun has set, leaving everything tinted orange. “will i just embarrass you if i open your door for you?” his mother had raised a gentleman, after all, but gansey is never sure where the line is when it comes to adam, how much is too much. how much is polite, and how much demeans adam. how much he can get away with before adam feels like less of a man.

adam grins, trying to hide the embarrassment, even though he knows exactly what he’s doing. or, at least, he knows thanks to wally. “between wally, tony, and proko, i think i’ve got the family covered.” he laughs, tucking his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders a bit as he follows gansey out to the pig. 

“i can get the door, but thank you for offering.” he’s been working on letting other people do things for him as a means of being nice or polite. and he knows gansey is trying, but a car door is something he can definitely manage on his own. 

“so a pipe burst, and they won’t let me fix it because then the insurance won’t pay for it, and i talked to the people who own the strip mall that the studio is in and they said i have to use their plumber. so i have to wait three days for a plumber to show up so they can fix it. three days.” 

he’s not begrudging himself the little vacation, but that’s still three whole days where his business isn’t bringing in money. at least he’s able to come bother wally at work and spend time with gar when he’s not working. 

but he’s bored. and he’s already taken his turn bothering everyone here worth bothering. 

as far as he knows, his mother is gone. where to, he’s not sure. they’d come here for a fresh start, for a better life and here he is. alone. homeless. jobless. starving. no money for college. they’d come for a fresh start and here he is worse off than he was back home. 

he’s fine, don’t get him wrong. it’s not like he’s shivering in some alley. the past few nights he’s been fortunate enough to hole up in some abandoned houses with running water so he’s not filthy anymore. 

as he’s walking down the road, he comes across a mechanic’s shop with teen and early twenty-something guys practically pouring out of the garage. maybe they’re hiring? he doubts it, with that many employees and that small of a garage, they’re probably already at capacity. he’s about to turn back towards the center of town when the sign for the business catches his eye. stark. stark. it can’t possibly be. it could be a trick or a coincidence, but with everything he’s seen over the years, it can’t hurt to check it out. if anything, maybe the guys will have some idea about places hiring nearby. 

when harley keener peeks his head into the shop, his whole body freezes. 

“t-tony?”

regulus doesn’t have time to look up at customer’s faces during the morning rush. it’s just a fact. keep your eyes on the screen to make sure the order’s right and eyes on the change to make sure your register is not short. but there’s something in the back of his head telling him to look up and he is not disappointed. “oh. wow. yeah. um. you said salazar, right?”

he’s so pretty and regulus is so gay. “did you want whipped cream? extra shot of espresso? caramel or chocolate?” my number?

he’s on his lunch break and honestly, he’d like nothing more than to avoid everyone. but seeing as he’s in a public place, it’s kind of unavoidable. 

which is how bucky finds himself stuck on a bench with some stranger, stumbling his way through tortuous small talk. he doesn’t want to be rude, he’s been working on it. the dog at his side whines softly, putting it’s head on bucky’s knee. “oh, no, he’s not mine. he’s a rescue, i uh, i own a dog shelter in town. i try to take them out as much as possible.”

@fckarchetypes || DICK ;;

“i had a visit from a friend of yours today. very illuminating.” seeing as dick is the only member of his family that bruce still has within arm’s reach, he’s been keeping dick close. inviting him over whenever he’d like to come, even cooking, a skill he doesn’t often display.

currently, they’re waiting on the water to boil so bruce can add the pasta to it, both a drink or two in. it’s casual, comfortable in a way not often associated with bruce wayne and any of his proteges. blame the wine bruce had.

“three guesses as to which one.”

dick has to physically force himself to swallow the mouthful of wine before he chokes on it. they were having a nice time, why does bruce have to go and bring this up now. he doesn’t need three guesses, wally is the only one ballsy enough to drop by on bruce wayne.