@broken3go asked:
❝ You must miss the good old days, huh? ❞ from morgan stark
He had been trying to open a jar of strawberry jam for five minutes. His left arm—what was left of it—was no good for grip anymore, and the prosthetic on the right, sleek as it was, didn’t have the same nuance as flesh and bone. Somewhere in the background, Morgan was humming along to her music, sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter like her mom always told her not to.
The jam finally gave way with a reluctant pop, nearly slipping from his hand, and Tony let out a satisfied grunt. He was about to make a comment—probably sarcastic, definitely unnecessary—when her voice cut through the quiet like a pin to a balloon. Tony froze mid-spread, the knife hovering over her toast. His brow furrowed—not with anger, but with something softer. Slower. He didn’t answer immediately. The silence ticked on, filled only by the faint hum of Morgan's playlist and the click of the fridge cycling on. Finally, he exhaled through his nose and offered a half-smile, worn around the edges.
“Sometimes,” he said. “But most of the good old days? I was alone. Angry. Pushing people away. I thought I was saving the world by doing everything myself.” He nudged the toast toward her. “Now I’ve got jam-stained fingers, half a shoulder, and a kid who asks way too many deep questions before breakfast. I think I’ll take these days instead.” His smile widened, just a little. “Even if the coffee sucks.”
