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cap_ironman2008-06-08 12:14 am
liliaeth) wrote in cap_ironman2008-06-08 12:14 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Broken Dreams (1/?)
Title: Broken Dreams
Author:Liliaeth
Rating: NC17
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark/Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Norman Osborn (non-con)
Summary: In a world much like our own, anyone with superpowers is instantly a slave. When Steve Rogers is woken from the ice, the rebellion asks him to get in touch with Tony Stark, head of the Iron Men and finds himself starting to like both Tony and Tony's young slave Spider.
Warnings: references to underage non-con, rape, torture, slavery
Prologue
1.
It was just a little diner, old fashioned. It looked like it could have been right at home in the forties and Steve loved it for it. The walls were a nice crème, with small picture frames, showing previous owners and customers. He was dressed in a blue shirt and jeans, his two top buttons were loose in response to the weather. It was summer in New York and Steve shaked the ice in his soda while he finished a few last brushes on his sketch block.
His name was Steve Rogers. Or it had been, decades ago. He was a man out of time, a veteran of the last war that was truly thought of as just and once upon a time he’d been thought a hero.
When he opened his eyes he’d been surrounded by them, the men in iron. Steve had grabbed his shield, ready to defend himself, even weakened as he were, he wouldn’t give up that easy. He was Captain America, he’d just fought years of war. He could handle this.
The Iron Men aimed their gauntlets at him, Steve responded immediately, holding off their fire with his shield for a second before throwing it over their heads, forcing them to duck. The shield returned to his hands and he kicked the table towards the guy on the left. It was clear that the Iron Men were holding back.
“Private Rogers At ease.”
Steve stared up at the officer, he recognized him, but he was so old.
“Dugan?”
They old man smiled and slapped him on the back, pulling him along, away from the Iron Men. And Steve had been to confused, to really put up a fight.
“So they weren’t Nazis?” Dum Dum laughed and pulled him along to the cafeteria. But Steve could still feel their glares on his back
To them he was a huge historical discovery. They were going to make a big deal of his return; and all he had to do was nod and agree with whatever they told him to do.
The future hadn’t seemed so bad at first. The streets were clean, the glasses in the windows shone, and all around him were modern bits of technology that seemed to come straight out of a moviehouse. And the women… the way they dressed, even the ones that were considered modest… it made him blush.
Then one day Dum Dum had taken Steve to a club for a drink and he’d noticed a man dragging a young boy behind him on a leash. The kid had been barely 14 and was dressed in little more than a pair of shorts and a collar. The boy tripped and Steve jumped up as the man slapped the kid’s face. Dum Dum grabbed his arm, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He’d slammed the man to the ground before he could lay another hand on the boy.
“Steve stop it. That freak’s his property, if he wants to punish him that’s his business.”
And Steve stared at his old friend, dumb struck.
“He’s just a child.”
“That’s no child Steve, that’s just some subhumanoid freak.”
The bouncer had arrived, told them to leave, offering a free drink to the child abuser and Steve had been too stunned to fight any of it.
“Things are different now Steve. They’re better.”
But Steve looked around him and he couldn’t agree. He noticed the street cleaner dressed in a skin tight bodysuit who was sucking up dirt from the gutters with his hands, also wearing a collar. Or the way the young woman looked down when he came closer. As Dum Dum dragged him back home to the tower he kept staring around. He noticed more of them. Men, women, far too many of them children, barely dressed, all of them collared, all of them scared.
There weren’t many of them, but the ones there were, were too much for him to take. He sat in his room in the tower, watching television, taking special notice of the protests. For a moment he hoped, but then he heard their screams. “Get the freaks of the street! Lock them up! Protect our children from the monsters!”
It made him heartsick.
He found himself a man out of time, trapped in a world he could barely even recognize anymore. Was this the world Bucky had died to protect? A world where slavery was seen as normal, where children were pulled from their homes and kept in chains because of an accident of birth? Steve could not live with it, he couldn’t stay silent; so he ran, and he ran like hell into the darkest alleys and the deepest shadows, hoping for somewhere to hide away from this nightmare that had taken over the country he’d loved so much. Until he finally wandered into an old church and found salvation, and a good right hook..
The rebellion tried to help him of course, powered humans, mutants, regular people, working to overthrow the current status quo, all for their own reasons. They made him believe that there was still hope in this future, hope for the America he believed in. He loved helping them fight their fight. They’d given him a secret identity, making it so he could live his life. He was Steve Denton now - a young artist, recent drop out of the art academy and trying to find his place in the world. They’d made him die his hair, made him wear fake glasses.
If he’d wanted it, they’d have left it at that. Let him live his life, help him get a job, grow old in body as well as spirit. But they knew as well as he did, that that would never happen. Not as long as even one child across the world was trapped in slavery, not as long as freedom was only allowed for the fortunate. Not as long as democracy was a sham of what it had been meant to be.
Every time he went outside, he had it slammed right in his face. He couldn’t close his eyes and pretend he didn’t see how society was building on a foundation of suffering. He had no choice but to see those monstrosities guarding the streets. He couldn’t look away and scoff as some rich snob travelled the streets with a slave in tow. And unlike others, he looked beyond the extravagance of being able to own a slave for no other purpose other than your own pleasure. Because where others saw the decadence, he just saw marks and scars on innocent peoples bodies. He noticed the whips and the rods and the chains and they felt like a stone upon his gut.
.
And every day people seemed more and more annoyed with those poor people. They trembled in fear over the so called freak rebellion, but ignored the evils done upon these poor souls. And every day Steve’s heart broke America and for what it had allowed itself to become.
But then there was Tony. Tony was… different than he’d expected him to be. The rebellion had positioned him here with one main reason, to get close to Tony Stark and get information on the Iron Men and ways to take them down. He just hadn’t expected to actually end up liking the man.
Steve finished a last brush on the sketch he’d been working on, wiping the charcoal as he drew the old woman behind the counter as she prepared his coffee. He paid special attention to the weary smile in her eyes. Using a soft grey shading to show the laugh lines on her mouth. He remembered her; Sandra, she’d been so young when he’d been here the first time around. Him and a few friends, talking about the war, she’d been a young girl, helping out her father on busy days, bussing tables, a grin and quick with for every each one of the customers. Now she stood behind the counter, helping her grandson with the diner while he was in the back. Soon she’d sit down at a table on the left, happy to have been useful once again, and take care of her knitting.
Her grandson didn’t really need her help, and if he did need help, he’d just hire someone to keep an eye on the shop for him. But he saw his grandmothers need to do something, so he let her. It made her happy and everyone greeted her as they came in. Steve remembered her when she was young and all the boys had wanted to tug her hair or carry her bookbag, the belle of the class, back then. Little Sandra with the golden hair, she still had the same smile. But she didn’t remember him, few people who knew him then, would have recognized him after the serum.
He’d been so focussed on her that he hadn’t even noticed that Tony had arrived until he felt a hand resting on his back. It touched him just a second too long.
“So what are you working on?”
Steve showed his sketch, it was far from perfect, but he liked it anyway.
“And you said no against appearing in Sylvester’s why again?”
“I’m just not ready.” And Sylvester’s had two slaves, a boy who lit up like a night lamp in the dark and was used to keep the building clean, and the other to serve drinks to its patrons and as a part of a work of art. The poor girl’s skin changed colours and her master kept making her rearrange those to show her off. Their powers were small, mostly useless, which made them cheap for slaves, but they still cost more each, than most people made in a year or two..
“Oh come on Steve, you were ready for a showing the first time I met you and that was over two months ago.”
Steve was about to protest when he noticed the boy standing behind Tony. The kid seemed small, scrawny and was dressed in a tight blue skin suit. His feet were bare and he was holding a bunch of bags in one hand and a big wooden box in the other.
Steve rolled his eyes.
“Oh come on! It’s not my fault. Norman just insisted.”
“He insisted?”
“The board thinks the rebellion is after me, can you believe it? So they gave me Spider here to protect me in case anything happens.”
Steve looked at the boy who looked frail enough to break in a second, but he knew better by now than to believe that appearances would be true where ‘freaks’ were concerned.
“Set those things down Spider, at ease.”
The boy set down the baggage and knelt down besides Tony’s chair. Tony petted his hair as if to reward him. As the boy stretched his neck, Steve noticed his barcode tattooed on sensitive flesh. It flung his mind back to numbers tattooed on the arms of gaunt nigh skeletal people, begging for mercy that they saw, as they came to liberate Auschwitz. And it was this kind of things that allowed him to stay on his mission, because it reminded him that Tony wasn’t half the man he seemed to be. He wasn’t some nice guy that might be a friend under better circumstances. Anthony Stark was a tool of the government who’d betrayed hundreds, thousands of innocent people and built the weapons to keep them in slavery.
And he was the kind of man who could smile happily as he munched down on a plate of pancakes, while his slave waited on his every command.
“Oh come on Steve, Spider isn’t that bad.” God, Tony still thought he was one of the idiots that wanted supers either imprisoned or killed. “He’s a good kid and he follows orders perfectly. He’s not about to go rebel and kill everyone around him just because he’s in a bad mood.” Or because his master finally pushed him one bit too far and made him break out and escape, not caring about anything but a chance at freedom or death. Steve had seen too many of the children in the rebellion, nigh broken, hating humans because of what was done to them and in a way Steve couldn’t even blame them for it. Cause which of those humans would have ever spoken up for them while their master beat them, or raped them, or did whatever the hell he or she pleased to them.
“You know how I feel Tony.”
No you don’t, but let’s pretend you do. Let’s pretend we really are friends, because it’s the only way you’ll ever let me get close enough to stop you once and for all.
And all the while the boy called Spider sat trembling by his master’s side.
*********
Tony didn’t understand Steve. This was a strange thing to admit for someone who had graduated four years ahead of anyone in his age range. But that didn’t stop it from being true. Steve was a great guy, one hell of an artist and someone he seriously admired. Which was a rare thing to find in this world. But whenever Steve saw one of the freaks, it was like an endless anger filled his eyes. No matter how innocent the freak in question was. Even now, with Spider, it was like he wanted to tear something apart, just looking at the boy. And that after Tony had only just managed to calm the poor kid down.
Osborn had shown up at his place only a few hours earlier; his freak following right behind him as usual. Spider was a good kid for a freak; sweet, obedient, easygoing but oh so easily spooked. Tony wasn’t sure, but he’d always been a bit worried about the boy. Norman Osborn didn’t seem like the kind of man who should be trusted with a child, even if said child had superpowers.
Norman had been worried; they all were since the last attack. Tony didn’t, he had his suit to protect him. He was the original Iron Man for crying out loud. What did he have to worry about? But that wasn’t how the board saw it. No, they’d made him take Spider, Osborn’s personal freak, as special security.
The fact of how furious Osborn seemed with that decision was the only reason that Tony had accepted. Tony had to fight a smile when Norman realized that his insistence to get Tony a bodyguard was going to cost him his favourite on the job privilege. Stark Enterprises had paid a lot of money for that boy, and with good reason. But Osborn had taken to seeing the boy as his, instead of the company’s.
And Spider had been easy enough to deal with. The kid came when he called, and stayed out of the way when he didn’t. He also didn’t pull nearly as much attention, as a pair of Iron Men would have. The shopping had been to get Spider some stuff he’d need. Freaks weren’t allowed possessions, so all Spider had been allowed to bring from Osborn’s place was the clothes on his back. But Tony saw no reason not to spoil the boy a bit
Tony had never seen anyone so happy, nor so quick to hide his happiness, just finding a room with a pillow to sleep on, or a picture frame of Einstein on the wall. It was a frame that Tony had forgotten to remove, he was happy that he hadn’t. That and the television, freaks weren’t allowed to read, but there were no rules forbidding them to watch tv or play a video game. Spider had looked like a child then, a child in a candy store. Not that he was much more than that, a mere 19 years old according to his file. He seemed younger.
Tony petted the boy; Spider seemed to enjoy the attention, once he realized that Tony wasn’t going to beat him up for the slightest mistake. Oh Tony knew that there were times he would have to be strict, freaks needed to know who the master was in order to stay under control. In fact, letting them know where they stood made them happier, like letting a child know its boundaries. But that didn’t mean he had to be cruel just for the sake of it. He didn’t think that Norman understood that part.
Tony wondered if he should let the boy go see his aunt one of these days, with his uncle dead because of a burglar, she was the only family the kid had left. Tony wasn’t sure, he didn’t do family, and it might be painful to the boy, to meet with his aunt in his current position. It couldn’t be comfortable to him to be seen by people he knew from his past life. And what if she didn’t want to see the boy? Tony wouldn’t want to break the little freak’s heart by promising something that he then couldn’t keep. Tony knew he’d have to ask Jarvis. Jarvis was much better with kids than he was and he really seemed to like Spider.
Nobody that had Jarvis’ approval, could be all bad, now could he?
Next
Author:Liliaeth
Rating: NC17
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark/Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Norman Osborn (non-con)
Summary: In a world much like our own, anyone with superpowers is instantly a slave. When Steve Rogers is woken from the ice, the rebellion asks him to get in touch with Tony Stark, head of the Iron Men and finds himself starting to like both Tony and Tony's young slave Spider.
Warnings: references to underage non-con, rape, torture, slavery
Prologue
1.
It was just a little diner, old fashioned. It looked like it could have been right at home in the forties and Steve loved it for it. The walls were a nice crème, with small picture frames, showing previous owners and customers. He was dressed in a blue shirt and jeans, his two top buttons were loose in response to the weather. It was summer in New York and Steve shaked the ice in his soda while he finished a few last brushes on his sketch block.
His name was Steve Rogers. Or it had been, decades ago. He was a man out of time, a veteran of the last war that was truly thought of as just and once upon a time he’d been thought a hero.
When he opened his eyes he’d been surrounded by them, the men in iron. Steve had grabbed his shield, ready to defend himself, even weakened as he were, he wouldn’t give up that easy. He was Captain America, he’d just fought years of war. He could handle this.
The Iron Men aimed their gauntlets at him, Steve responded immediately, holding off their fire with his shield for a second before throwing it over their heads, forcing them to duck. The shield returned to his hands and he kicked the table towards the guy on the left. It was clear that the Iron Men were holding back.
“Private Rogers At ease.”
Steve stared up at the officer, he recognized him, but he was so old.
“Dugan?”
They old man smiled and slapped him on the back, pulling him along, away from the Iron Men. And Steve had been to confused, to really put up a fight.
“So they weren’t Nazis?” Dum Dum laughed and pulled him along to the cafeteria. But Steve could still feel their glares on his back
To them he was a huge historical discovery. They were going to make a big deal of his return; and all he had to do was nod and agree with whatever they told him to do.
The future hadn’t seemed so bad at first. The streets were clean, the glasses in the windows shone, and all around him were modern bits of technology that seemed to come straight out of a moviehouse. And the women… the way they dressed, even the ones that were considered modest… it made him blush.
Then one day Dum Dum had taken Steve to a club for a drink and he’d noticed a man dragging a young boy behind him on a leash. The kid had been barely 14 and was dressed in little more than a pair of shorts and a collar. The boy tripped and Steve jumped up as the man slapped the kid’s face. Dum Dum grabbed his arm, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He’d slammed the man to the ground before he could lay another hand on the boy.
“Steve stop it. That freak’s his property, if he wants to punish him that’s his business.”
And Steve stared at his old friend, dumb struck.
“He’s just a child.”
“That’s no child Steve, that’s just some subhumanoid freak.”
The bouncer had arrived, told them to leave, offering a free drink to the child abuser and Steve had been too stunned to fight any of it.
“Things are different now Steve. They’re better.”
But Steve looked around him and he couldn’t agree. He noticed the street cleaner dressed in a skin tight bodysuit who was sucking up dirt from the gutters with his hands, also wearing a collar. Or the way the young woman looked down when he came closer. As Dum Dum dragged him back home to the tower he kept staring around. He noticed more of them. Men, women, far too many of them children, barely dressed, all of them collared, all of them scared.
There weren’t many of them, but the ones there were, were too much for him to take. He sat in his room in the tower, watching television, taking special notice of the protests. For a moment he hoped, but then he heard their screams. “Get the freaks of the street! Lock them up! Protect our children from the monsters!”
It made him heartsick.
He found himself a man out of time, trapped in a world he could barely even recognize anymore. Was this the world Bucky had died to protect? A world where slavery was seen as normal, where children were pulled from their homes and kept in chains because of an accident of birth? Steve could not live with it, he couldn’t stay silent; so he ran, and he ran like hell into the darkest alleys and the deepest shadows, hoping for somewhere to hide away from this nightmare that had taken over the country he’d loved so much. Until he finally wandered into an old church and found salvation, and a good right hook..
The rebellion tried to help him of course, powered humans, mutants, regular people, working to overthrow the current status quo, all for their own reasons. They made him believe that there was still hope in this future, hope for the America he believed in. He loved helping them fight their fight. They’d given him a secret identity, making it so he could live his life. He was Steve Denton now - a young artist, recent drop out of the art academy and trying to find his place in the world. They’d made him die his hair, made him wear fake glasses.
If he’d wanted it, they’d have left it at that. Let him live his life, help him get a job, grow old in body as well as spirit. But they knew as well as he did, that that would never happen. Not as long as even one child across the world was trapped in slavery, not as long as freedom was only allowed for the fortunate. Not as long as democracy was a sham of what it had been meant to be.
Every time he went outside, he had it slammed right in his face. He couldn’t close his eyes and pretend he didn’t see how society was building on a foundation of suffering. He had no choice but to see those monstrosities guarding the streets. He couldn’t look away and scoff as some rich snob travelled the streets with a slave in tow. And unlike others, he looked beyond the extravagance of being able to own a slave for no other purpose other than your own pleasure. Because where others saw the decadence, he just saw marks and scars on innocent peoples bodies. He noticed the whips and the rods and the chains and they felt like a stone upon his gut.
.
And every day people seemed more and more annoyed with those poor people. They trembled in fear over the so called freak rebellion, but ignored the evils done upon these poor souls. And every day Steve’s heart broke America and for what it had allowed itself to become.
But then there was Tony. Tony was… different than he’d expected him to be. The rebellion had positioned him here with one main reason, to get close to Tony Stark and get information on the Iron Men and ways to take them down. He just hadn’t expected to actually end up liking the man.
Steve finished a last brush on the sketch he’d been working on, wiping the charcoal as he drew the old woman behind the counter as she prepared his coffee. He paid special attention to the weary smile in her eyes. Using a soft grey shading to show the laugh lines on her mouth. He remembered her; Sandra, she’d been so young when he’d been here the first time around. Him and a few friends, talking about the war, she’d been a young girl, helping out her father on busy days, bussing tables, a grin and quick with for every each one of the customers. Now she stood behind the counter, helping her grandson with the diner while he was in the back. Soon she’d sit down at a table on the left, happy to have been useful once again, and take care of her knitting.
Her grandson didn’t really need her help, and if he did need help, he’d just hire someone to keep an eye on the shop for him. But he saw his grandmothers need to do something, so he let her. It made her happy and everyone greeted her as they came in. Steve remembered her when she was young and all the boys had wanted to tug her hair or carry her bookbag, the belle of the class, back then. Little Sandra with the golden hair, she still had the same smile. But she didn’t remember him, few people who knew him then, would have recognized him after the serum.
He’d been so focussed on her that he hadn’t even noticed that Tony had arrived until he felt a hand resting on his back. It touched him just a second too long.
“So what are you working on?”
Steve showed his sketch, it was far from perfect, but he liked it anyway.
“And you said no against appearing in Sylvester’s why again?”
“I’m just not ready.” And Sylvester’s had two slaves, a boy who lit up like a night lamp in the dark and was used to keep the building clean, and the other to serve drinks to its patrons and as a part of a work of art. The poor girl’s skin changed colours and her master kept making her rearrange those to show her off. Their powers were small, mostly useless, which made them cheap for slaves, but they still cost more each, than most people made in a year or two..
“Oh come on Steve, you were ready for a showing the first time I met you and that was over two months ago.”
Steve was about to protest when he noticed the boy standing behind Tony. The kid seemed small, scrawny and was dressed in a tight blue skin suit. His feet were bare and he was holding a bunch of bags in one hand and a big wooden box in the other.
Steve rolled his eyes.
“Oh come on! It’s not my fault. Norman just insisted.”
“He insisted?”
“The board thinks the rebellion is after me, can you believe it? So they gave me Spider here to protect me in case anything happens.”
Steve looked at the boy who looked frail enough to break in a second, but he knew better by now than to believe that appearances would be true where ‘freaks’ were concerned.
“Set those things down Spider, at ease.”
The boy set down the baggage and knelt down besides Tony’s chair. Tony petted his hair as if to reward him. As the boy stretched his neck, Steve noticed his barcode tattooed on sensitive flesh. It flung his mind back to numbers tattooed on the arms of gaunt nigh skeletal people, begging for mercy that they saw, as they came to liberate Auschwitz. And it was this kind of things that allowed him to stay on his mission, because it reminded him that Tony wasn’t half the man he seemed to be. He wasn’t some nice guy that might be a friend under better circumstances. Anthony Stark was a tool of the government who’d betrayed hundreds, thousands of innocent people and built the weapons to keep them in slavery.
And he was the kind of man who could smile happily as he munched down on a plate of pancakes, while his slave waited on his every command.
“Oh come on Steve, Spider isn’t that bad.” God, Tony still thought he was one of the idiots that wanted supers either imprisoned or killed. “He’s a good kid and he follows orders perfectly. He’s not about to go rebel and kill everyone around him just because he’s in a bad mood.” Or because his master finally pushed him one bit too far and made him break out and escape, not caring about anything but a chance at freedom or death. Steve had seen too many of the children in the rebellion, nigh broken, hating humans because of what was done to them and in a way Steve couldn’t even blame them for it. Cause which of those humans would have ever spoken up for them while their master beat them, or raped them, or did whatever the hell he or she pleased to them.
“You know how I feel Tony.”
No you don’t, but let’s pretend you do. Let’s pretend we really are friends, because it’s the only way you’ll ever let me get close enough to stop you once and for all.
And all the while the boy called Spider sat trembling by his master’s side.
*********
Tony didn’t understand Steve. This was a strange thing to admit for someone who had graduated four years ahead of anyone in his age range. But that didn’t stop it from being true. Steve was a great guy, one hell of an artist and someone he seriously admired. Which was a rare thing to find in this world. But whenever Steve saw one of the freaks, it was like an endless anger filled his eyes. No matter how innocent the freak in question was. Even now, with Spider, it was like he wanted to tear something apart, just looking at the boy. And that after Tony had only just managed to calm the poor kid down.
Osborn had shown up at his place only a few hours earlier; his freak following right behind him as usual. Spider was a good kid for a freak; sweet, obedient, easygoing but oh so easily spooked. Tony wasn’t sure, but he’d always been a bit worried about the boy. Norman Osborn didn’t seem like the kind of man who should be trusted with a child, even if said child had superpowers.
Norman had been worried; they all were since the last attack. Tony didn’t, he had his suit to protect him. He was the original Iron Man for crying out loud. What did he have to worry about? But that wasn’t how the board saw it. No, they’d made him take Spider, Osborn’s personal freak, as special security.
The fact of how furious Osborn seemed with that decision was the only reason that Tony had accepted. Tony had to fight a smile when Norman realized that his insistence to get Tony a bodyguard was going to cost him his favourite on the job privilege. Stark Enterprises had paid a lot of money for that boy, and with good reason. But Osborn had taken to seeing the boy as his, instead of the company’s.
And Spider had been easy enough to deal with. The kid came when he called, and stayed out of the way when he didn’t. He also didn’t pull nearly as much attention, as a pair of Iron Men would have. The shopping had been to get Spider some stuff he’d need. Freaks weren’t allowed possessions, so all Spider had been allowed to bring from Osborn’s place was the clothes on his back. But Tony saw no reason not to spoil the boy a bit
Tony had never seen anyone so happy, nor so quick to hide his happiness, just finding a room with a pillow to sleep on, or a picture frame of Einstein on the wall. It was a frame that Tony had forgotten to remove, he was happy that he hadn’t. That and the television, freaks weren’t allowed to read, but there were no rules forbidding them to watch tv or play a video game. Spider had looked like a child then, a child in a candy store. Not that he was much more than that, a mere 19 years old according to his file. He seemed younger.
Tony petted the boy; Spider seemed to enjoy the attention, once he realized that Tony wasn’t going to beat him up for the slightest mistake. Oh Tony knew that there were times he would have to be strict, freaks needed to know who the master was in order to stay under control. In fact, letting them know where they stood made them happier, like letting a child know its boundaries. But that didn’t mean he had to be cruel just for the sake of it. He didn’t think that Norman understood that part.
Tony wondered if he should let the boy go see his aunt one of these days, with his uncle dead because of a burglar, she was the only family the kid had left. Tony wasn’t sure, he didn’t do family, and it might be painful to the boy, to meet with his aunt in his current position. It couldn’t be comfortable to him to be seen by people he knew from his past life. And what if she didn’t want to see the boy? Tony wouldn’t want to break the little freak’s heart by promising something that he then couldn’t keep. Tony knew he’d have to ask Jarvis. Jarvis was much better with kids than he was and he really seemed to like Spider.
Nobody that had Jarvis’ approval, could be all bad, now could he?
Next
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I hope Jarvis is totally against this freak seperation thing too or something.
Spider ... *sniffle* Aw! great work so far.
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OMG, I can't believe how much I love this story! It's so so so awesome!!!
And, um, I'm jus' gonna go wibble inna co'ner now, 'K? *wibbles*
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also it's interesting to see how tony is interpreting the anger he sees in Steve's eyes. He thinks it's directed towards the "freaks" but it's really an entirely different reason...--- well done :D
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Tony can be a wee bit blind, but he won't stay that way.
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