#heavyweighthappy

While working for Tony Stark was absolutely awesome, in every possible way, and having a boss who actually cared whether she died walking back home in the middle of the night was a nice change of pace - even if maybe he only did out of respect for Thor, there was no way she could know - Darcy was now regretting everything. Because she had gotten so invested in the project that she and the team had stayed until far too late, and Tony being Tony, he had offered his driver, or more accurately ordered her to be driven home by his driver, once he had heard she was going to take the subway.

And now she had to find a way to make Happy stop way before reaching her actual neighbor and not wait for her to go in, or she'd have to explain that she lived in what was basically the sewers of that side of town. They may get robbed if he parked in front of her house at 2am. But there was time. For now all she could do was talk. "I can't believe I actually got excited about work, I've never been excited about any subject in my entire life. High-school me would have gotten drug-tested if she offered to do extra homework... What about you? You are kinda like an Avenger yourself." As someone who had been behind the scenes several times, she knew first-hand just how involved the non-Avengers people around the superhero could be, and if Jane had been vital, then probably so was Happy, letting people get where they needed in time.

open to: anyone | canon or oc | made with beta suggested connections: stranger, friend of a friend, former enemy, new super, have fun with it could be like one of the kids of other avengers, anyone with a direct line to Natasha

(Text) Oh yeah what are you having? Fried eggs with a side of shitty eating habits? I’m picking you up, we’re doing breakfast. Then visiting our parental figures like good children.

(Text) Get dressed. See you in fifteen.

He rolled his eyes at that. Tired. Very tired. Sad and shitty. He didn't want to have to put the veneer on with Happy, even as he tried to pretend he was a functional adult. And, of course, Happy was surprisingly good at seeing through it nowadays. Didn't want him to know that Peter was just a sad kid at heart.

"Hey, love-" There's a lot of noise in the background, people, traffic, city noises. "I was gonna catch a bus, but I got distracted a li'l bit an' I think there's been an accident or sumthin', hearin' lotsa sirens-"

These were also audible in the background now. "Anyways.. I'm gonna be late fer dinner. Dun worry, okay? I'll jest walk home, not that far!"

“I’m not trying to offend you, it’s very clear where you’re intentions lie.”

he was . . . speechless. he was so overwhelmingly speechless. he felt his heart beat hard in his chest; felt the flush on his face and ---- the sting of tears in his eyes. because he had just had an awful night. he expected-- no one, because he had no one left. but happy. happy was standing right here. talking to him; explaining how he worked it out ( words ringing familiar, echoing mj’s ).    he didn’t know exactly what the guy could remember, but . . . it was enough for him to connect the dots.

and now peter couldn’t breathe, not really. not properly. because there was no way he was turning happy away now; he didn’t have the strength.

"     doctor strange had to cast a spell to make everyone forget who i am.    ”    his voice broke. he knew happy didn’t know him, but he didn’t care. he was having a break down, right there; in the doorway to his crappy little apartment, facing someone he loved; someone who he had considered family, and someone he missed, so much. he couldn’t lie anymore.    “   i--- i was- i was her nephew. she practically raised me.    ”

He was sat on the balcony; up on the actual edge of it, as casual as if he was sat in a chair. One leg drawn up, hooked by his elbow, and his other leg dangled in open space, swinging slightly.

gets Miller

He had been doing his usual fucking around. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. Sitting around the junkyard, wearing his old clothes, his mom was at work and he didn't want to be in the apartment. No college, no job, no future. So he sat here, focusing on a TV - the screen long since broken, the edges rusted - trying to lift it into the air. It was humming loudly but he'd managed to get it maybe a foot up.