Aɢᴇɴᴛs ᴏғ S.H.I.E.L.D ↳details↠ The Only Light In The Darkness ❝ Best case – Agent Koenig knows something we don’t. He took a team, kept us in the dark for our safety. Worst-case scenario? We’ve had a wolf in the herd the whole time. ❞
Pairing: Male Reader! X Peter Parker, Reader is Tony’s adopted son
Summary/Request: Can you do a Peter Parker x male!reader where reader is Tony’s (adopted?) son and has been dating Peter in secret for a while, but the reader is still in the closet (maybe Peter is out? Idk?) and then the avengers find out somehow? @graysonmalfoy
Word Count: 4820
Warnings: Adopted, slight angst (slight slight, it’s the first paragraph, you can skip that one), spans TWS through AoU. Clintasha, awkward/clumsy Peter, almost fatherly Tony
If you want a fairy tale that isn’t this story. He had never had it easy. His earliest memory was of burning his hand on the stove trying to make his own dinner. The next one of screaming and blood, but the heavy footsteps walked away as soon as his dirty rotten, no good parents were dead. The next of a man in a suit and wearing sleek shades taking him in. He thought it would get better, and it started to for the next eight years. That would be when (Y/N) lost the only good parent figure he ever had. When Loki killed Phil Coulson.
Coulson had had a contingency in place, and that passed him over to the care of Agents Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. That was cool but could also be painful when the spies were sent on missions together. He’d particularly been a miniature agent when Coulson was his guardian, and living with the spies only further sharpened his skills. They liked to sneak up on him, and he needed to be trained to take them down before they got to him.
If you're still taking prompts-- Fitzsimmons + 25) things you said in the back seat of a cab please! :-)
I’m always taking prompts, it just takes me a million years to get to them, apparently! Here you are, lovely! Set in the unspecified future when everyone’s free from these framework shenanigans.
He leans forward to give the driver their address and then collapses against the back seat. Jemma melts against him, soft and giggly in his arms. It’s not that he thinks he deserves to be rewarded for saving the world so often, but these occasions are rarer than they should be. And how can he regret anything about his life when it’s led him to this particularly perfect moment, but even still would it kill the universe to let evenings like this stretch past the hours allotted for their happiness?
He feels Jemma twisting to look up at him, a pretty frown darkening her features. “Fitzy,” she draws out in a whine that he absolutely shouldn’t find attractive, “why are you being serious now?”
“I’m not,” he tries, but the rest of his protests die on his tongue at her knowing eyeroll. It’s no use; there’s never been any use in hiding things from her, but the desire to protect her from everything bad extends to his own melancholy thoughts.
“Do you remember when I left to find Coulson with Fury’s toolbox, and you made me my favorite sandwich?” The cab driver, on the phone dealing with some minor family emergency, isn’t paying any attention to them, although Fitz is sure this conversation would make no sense to him anyway.
Jemma wrinkles her forehead in confusion. “Of course I remember. What brought that up?”
“That’s the last time I was in a cab.”
“Really?” she asks, eyes wide. “That can’t be right.”
“It is, though. Ever since then it’s been the Zephyr or some other high-tech SHIELD transport. And in…” he pauses, looking away from her briefly. “In, uh, Morocco I hired a car and driver.”
Jemma inhales sharply and her fingers grip his arm so tightly it stings. He’s desperate to draw the hurt from her before it spreads like a poison, so he places a kiss to her forehead and smiles bracingly. “That ended up being quite expensive. Had to buy the guy a new car. Left him a 5-star review on TripAdvisor, though, so maybe he’s forgiven me by now.”
His joke falls between them with a dull ache. “That’s not funny, Fitz,” she says, voice trembling.
“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I just…that’s not the point.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to form coherent thoughts with alcohol muddling his system. “I was thinking about the last cab ride because…I was really scared. Not sure if I could find Coulson. I was scared of what they’d do to me if they found me, and I was so terrified to leave you behind. But when I saw you’d made me that sandwich I felt…genuinely happy. It was the first time I really believed you and I would be okay. You know, that we were friends again.”
Jemma blinks slowly up at him before grasping his hand between hers, drawing it up to rest against her heart. “We were always more than that,” she says quietly, her words weighted with a truth so long unspoken. Even now, when they’ve entwined their lives as deeply as possible, it feels like a secret too precious to share with the world.
He swallows thickly, suddenly overwhelmed with how much he loves her and how he’s still sometimes convinced it’s all a miraculous dream.
“The point is,” he says, clearing his throat and leaning his head back against the car door, “that cab rides are better with you.”
She laughs, and he does too, because he’s done a terrible job at expressing the feelings rending his heart. “Everything is better with you,” he clarifies.
Jemma slides her fingers across his brow, tracing his nose, the curve of his jaw, trailing along his lips like the softest kiss.
“We need a vacation,” she says suddenly and he stills, drawn to her honey-eyes and the tenderness she can’t contain. She nods decisively when he doesn’t reply. “That’s what this is about. We had a lovely evening off and now you’re moping because it’s about to end—”
“I’m not moping,” he grumbles, but she presses a quick kiss to his lips and effectively shuts him up.
“You’re moping because it’s about to end,” she repeats. “Come on, Fitz, we deserve this. And we never made it to the Seychelles.”
He can see them so clearly—lounging in bathing suits, drinking cocktails and getting sunburnt despite their best efforts and his lungs ache with the want of it.
“We’d never get the time off approved,” he says sadly, and Jemma smirks at him.
“Maybe you can’t get time off approved, but I’ve already got two weeks secured.”
“What?” he gasps, genuinely shocked. “Since when?”
She shrugs. “I talked it over with Coulson a few weeks ago. I was waiting for the right time to surprise you, which is apparently…now. In the back seat of this cab.”
They both look around at the decidedly unromantic interior of their cab and simultaneously fall into laughter.
“When should we go?” Jemma asks, when she’s gotten herself back under control.
“Now,” he replies, grinning at her eagerly, suddenly looking years younger. She raises an eyebrow and he knows it’s pointless; Jemma Simmons, who creates binders of research for any small decision, will not allow their first romantic getaway to happen with zero planning.
“Next week?” she offers as a compromise and he has to stare at her for a moment before he realizes she’s being completely sincere.
“Yeah,” he says, stunned and breathless. “Next week. Me and you. The Seychelles.”
She draws him towards her, smiling into a kiss. “I’m gonna do something with you on that island that will take your breath away,” she whispers, causing his entire body to go numb.
“Yeah, snorkeling, I know,” he says archly. “Someone told me there are over a thousand species of fish in the Seychelles.”
“I’m not talking about snorkeling,” she replies, voice lower and throatier than it has any right to be, and he audibly gulps.
“Can we perhaps finish this conversation at home?” he pleads, throwing a glance towards the front of the cab where the driver, thankfully, appears still engrossed in his own conversation.
Jemma giggles delightedly. “Whatever you want,” she says softly, like a promise. With her warm weight pressed against him, he can’t imagine any universe in which he might be happier. When he’s sure Jemma has half-dozed off, he sticks the hand not wrapped around her deep into his pocket, fingers grazing over the small black box. He grins to himself. He might need to create his own binder of Seychelles research after all.
“I can’t believe this is still the Playground,” Jemma
commented in awe as she and Fitz crossed the renovated hangar of SHIELD’s main
base, Evelyn cradled against her hip. Their three month old daughter was taking
everything in with wide eyes, which currently seemed to be locked on the
Zephyr. Bending to kiss the top of Evelyn’s head, she murmured, “Your daddy
designed that plane, Evie. Aren’t you so proud of him?”
Fitz chuckled lightly at that, even as he eyed the Zephyr
for himself. “You know…I think I might talk to Mack about some upgrades…”
Jemma gave him a stern look as she reminded him, “We’re here
for a holiday, Fitz; have you
forgotten the definition of the word ‘retired’?”
“Okay, yeah, but…” When Jemma’s expression didn’t change, he
all-but pouted, pleading, “Just a quick look at the engine?”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then sighed. “Oh alright,
fine. But just the engine!”
“You’ve got it, Jem!” He pressed a quick, grateful kiss to her
temple, and Jemma rolled her eyes fondly, not bothering to hide her smile. They
passed through the hangar doors then, entering into the main section of the
base – only to find Daisy waiting anxiously on the other side.
“Oh, Happy Thanksgiving, Daisy!” Jemma greeted, smiling
widely at the sight of their friend. It’d been far too long since they’d seen
each other, what with Daisy being busy with the Secret Warriors and saving the
world, while Jemma and Fitz had been busy with settling into their cottage in
Perthshire then taking care of Evelyn.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Daisy replied absently, immediately
swiping Evelyn from her arms. “Oh my gosh
you’re just the cutest thing ever, aren’t you?” she cooed, ignoring Fitz and
Jemma almost completely in favor of Evelyn. “Oh yes you are. With those big blue eyes and that curly hair and your cute
little nose! That’s it, I’m just
gonna have to steal you away from your parents, yes I am, yes I am.”