Ms. Wako's World

Fic Rrequest:  “ Can we get host angst? Like, recently after he lost his sight and he breaks a little because he can’t see his (nonbinary) SO anymore and it makes him sad.”

Ever since Author was brought back from whatever horrors he went through, you knew instantly that he was different.  Not only did he now call himself “Host”, he also spoke in a way that was far too different. But you still clung to him as Dark dumped him at your feet. Soothed his agonized cries as he clawed at the bandages that wrapped around his bleeding eyes.  “What happened, Baby? Who did this?” You asked over and over again. Trying to get some coherent sentence from him. But his lips were moving at such a fast pace, that you barely caught the words.  Author- Host, you corrected yourself- curled into you. The red on his bandages pooling around the edges. Tripping down his cheeks like rivers as he clutched your shirt. The crazed babbling spilling from his mouth as you rocked back and forth. Hushing him as you both cried. 

Host had taken some time to get use to his new senses. Once he finally came to accept that this was who he was now, he tried his best to adjust.  For his sake, and yours.  Host turned his head as you opened the bedroom door. You had left the bed to make something to drink. Waking Host even with your valiant attempts to keep quiet as you crept through the house. He barely slept anymore. His mind was running at all times, gathering details at every second that passed. Thousands of small pictures that mashed together to make the master-piece that was your sleeping form, in his mind. When it was pictures like that, Host didn’t mind. But even when he did manage to sleep, the nightmares kept him from gathering rest.  He woke shaking and babbling uncontrollably. His eyes caked in blood that dripped from the soaked bandages. Host knew he scared you when this happened. He read it whenever he woke from his dreams. Even as you cradled him, soothed him and made things easier.  Host was scaring you.

“Host?” You called quietly. Approaching your lover as he stared out the window. Or at least stood by the glass and faced the outside world. “Everything ok?”  Host bit down on his cheek. Stopping the flood of words from blasting out in his response. He was getting better. He could speak to you almost normally now.  “Host was just thinking.” He said, searching for your hand with his fingers. Intertwining them as you took his hand.  “About what?” You asked curiously. Your chin leaning on his shoulder, hair catching the morning rays as it peered through the curtains. Even as the leaves rustled in the breeze, glistening with the morning dew, your eyes shone with the same adoration you felt when Host was Author. Held him just as carefully. Lovingly.  Host shook his head. Scattering the narration from his mind as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.  “You.” Host replied and his smile broadened at the shy grin on your lips.  “Anything specific?” You tilted your head so you could kiss his temple. Swaying the two of you gently as he turned to wrap his arms around you.  “Host cannot see you.” He told you. His voice grim. “Host sees you in pieces. Shards of light and color and greys in a photo that lasts only a second. Host cannot see you… like he use to see you.” Host frowned in frustration. He wasn’t saying this right. How would you understand? He can see you. But it wasn’t the same as watching you as it happened, in one simple frame rather than hundreds of flashing pictures. He was absorbing the creak of the floorboards under your feet, rather then just watching you walking. He saw the stretch of your skin, the dimples and small wrinkles, even the dust particles caught in your eyelashes as you smiled at him. 

He saw everything. He no longer just saw you. Host hated it. 

You kept your smile small, soft. Lifting your hand to brush his hair from his forehead. Then, leaned close to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then to the fresh bandages on each eye, and finally to his lips.  All of which sent Host’s mind whirling with details of your touch.  “I will never understand what you’re going through, Love. But you don’t have to see me to see me.” You took both of his hands in yours and lifted them to press his palms against your cheeks. His fingers gently curling around the frame of your face as you stared to speak again.  “You know what I look like, and you can keep that memory fresh by your other senses. Touch, smell, taste, and maybe one day this new ‘sight’ will help you. But until then, we’ll work it out, ok?”  Host shook his head. This wasn’t the same. He hated not being able to see your smile. The way your eyes crinkle as you laugh. Host only wished to see you again. 

remember when he made peter parker a spider-themed nightlight to go with his webshooter just because

remember when he was triggered by wanda but looking after clint was his primary concern during the trip back home from that mission. then remember how when other team members went through the same thing, his priority was taking them to a safehouse where they could recover

remember when in the middle of a world crisis, tony had no problem helping a pregnant laura barton with home chores like log chopping and fixing the family tractor

remember how much it mattered to him that pepper would enjoy her christmas gift

remember how he keeps fanmail from kids lying around the house

remember how he doesn’t just thoughtlessly sign kids’ drawings, he leaves little speech bubbles on the characters drawn, customized with the kid’s name

remember how he found time to buy harley a lot of candy

remember how he’s had the same slow bots since his MIT days, and has apparently never had the heart to upgrade them or rid them of their imperfections

remember how he had a model airplane collection and WII in his workshop. remember how he keeps the vintage car his father used to tinker with, according to the picture he also keeps in the shop? remember how that car is his screen saver. remember how his main systems keyboard is made out of a symbolic language he compiled and shares with JARVIS alone

remember how tony named JARVIS after his childhood butler, and created a whole other AI who reminded him of pepper? remember how he coded peter an AI that was invested in the kid’s emotional well being

remember how tony arrived from captivity and the first thing he did was get an american cheese burger? remember how he sat down beneath the podium during a press conference and turned to obadiah stane and told him that it was good to see him

remember that fundamental naïveté underlying everything he’s always done, from “tony stark wants to save the world” to “these are my guns, how did they get my guns?” and “they told me ‘here’s the line, we don’t cross it, and this is how we do business’”

remember how tony thinks that being a superhero would be “outlandish and… fantastic” but he doesn’t think he’s the type and all the way to homecoming he’s looking at a younger hero and vocally wishing he’d be better than him

remember how he’s been trying to use his own struggle with grief and trauma to find solutions that should benefit others as well. remember how he’s explicitly trying to break the cycle of abuse his father started

IRONDAD AND SPIDERSON