every ship is equal, and no one is more powerful than the sea.

[derogatory]

FIVE THINGS MEME

HOW TO PLAY
- Give me as many "five things" prompt for any characters or fandom that you know I'm into
- I will try to write it
- no promises.


COMPLETE
five moments of gay panic for victor
four times victor missed nathan before finding him again (and one time he really didn't)
five disastrous toasts from victor and nathan's big gay wedding
five things about avenger victor and supervillain karolina
five times chase and victor were not friends
five ways victor's bad end could've gone
four successful missions nathan and victor went on (and one that could have gone a lot better)
five moments inside the mentor's lounge
five times victor regretted letting nathan move in

Comments

since i am writing the companion of ones nathan went on his own

[sailor]

four successful missions nathan and victor went on (and one that could have gone a lot better)

four successful missions nathan and victor went on (and one that could have gone a lot better)

[derogatory]

i.
“Young’s down,” Barton’s voice crackles across the comm.

“That was fast,” Nat murmurs from her end, and next they’re discussing how they can triple their bet by putting the money on when Tony will sweep in, music blaring. Victor seethes.

“I’m gonna check on him,” he hisses, diving off the western side of the rooftop.

“Stay in position,” Cap warns, and Victor hope hope hopes Steve Rogers didn’t hear him mutter “Eat me” before he turned off the headset.





“Are you dead?” he asks and Nathan raises his head weakly. Victor flinches at the blood spatter that stains his face.

“Not at the moment, no,” he wheezes. Victor kneels next to him, easing an arm behind Nathan and helping the other man sit up. “‘the fuck hit me?”

“We don’t know, Hawkeye is checking it out.” Victor glances at the buildings surrounding them, trying to pinpoint the trajectory of the attack, if they moved onto other civilian targets. “You did great,” he adds, glancing back from the corner of his eye, hurriedly twisting back to the mission in case Nathan notices.

“Oh, yeah,” Nathan coughs, eying his ruined shirt miserably, clearly reevaluating his wardrobe and occupation choice. “I’m shaping up to have an excellent career as a superhero distraction ahead of me.” It’s mean to laugh, and with Nathan it only encourages him, but Victor’s picking up on their old habits quick. “So we just wait? I thought you said being a superhero is exciting.”

“I lied,” Victor grins. “It was all a ploy to get you here to suffer with me.” He hesitates, face dropping with the inherent supervillain-esq tone of that comment. Suddenly aware he still has his arm around Nathan, Victor quickly pulls it back, imposing the least homosexual distance between them. Yeah, inviting Nathan into the Avengers will turn out great, he thinks with a gulp.

Nathan wrings blood out of his shirt. “Don’t you need to get back to work?”

“It’s fine,” the cyborg lies. His eyes slowly drift from the insecure horizon, Nathan cracking his neck and putting fingers through the holes in his shirt.

“Hey,” Victor says at last, voice tight. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“No shit,” Nathan smirks, inching forward to kick out at Victor’s ankles, trying to trip up some S.H.I.E.L.D grade boots. “Why wouldn’t I be? Immortal, remember?” He spreads out his arms with a laugh, only to nearly get sniped a second time.






The novelty of being screamed at by an Avenger, even the first one, got old eventually. It’s not as if Victor was stepping out of line a lot with his new team, but the Runaways taught him his first teenage disobedience, and even if the Avengers would prefer him to deviate from the programmable norm, nobody likes being disrespected by the new kid. Victor’s not sure he’ll ever feel like a complete member of the team beyond what’s hard wired through his veins, but he counts it a victory of inclusion when Steve Rogers yelling at him is more irritating than it is intimidating.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he mutters, slouched against the wall following the briefing. Having Captain America corner him like this reminds him a little of high school, except there aren’t any lockers to get shoved into in the Avengers Tower.

“I don’t think you do,” Steve presses, square jaw and stars and stripes all fixed at disapproval. “This is a team effort. Nathan does his role; I need you to do yours, or there’s no point going in as a group.” Victor scuffs his shoe against the floor, debating keeping his mouth shut and letting Cap get his lecture kicks in without a fight.

“Safety in numbers?” he tries weakly. Nathan is a terrible influence and Victor hurriedly pushes on before Steve can start back up again. “Come on! How much are you gonna yell at me for this? I was worried about him, he’s new.”

“He’s immortal,” Cap insists. “So, you can worry less about him and more about the mission.” Victor starts to protest that Nathan’s his best friend and Steve cuts him off, hand up, “You need to put that aside when we’re on the field.”

Victor gapes, “That’s not how it works!”

“That is how it needs to work when we are a team, Mancha, you keep rank-”

“Okay, except I can’t just turn that off!” he snaps, and something about the look on Steve’s face, like they didn’t have a good word for it in the forties, but he’s got a suspicion about all this worry, the same way Hank suspects, and Victor’s stomach turns to an icy block of shame. He swallows hard, turning over a card he’s not sure he should play, adding before he loses the nerve, “I went looking for him, I thought I’d never see him again.” Steve doesn’t flinch, hasn’t for bullets and won’t for a pointed dig, so it stings Victor instead. He doesn’t suspect anything, Victor angrily tells himself. You’re in your head about this Nathan stuff too much. Cap has decent advice, let that stuff go, focus on the missions, because one way or another it’s going to end shitty for you, like everything else.

He drops his eyes, scolded with silence, the heaviness to the Captain’s voice when he finally answers.

“It’s important you feel something like that for the rest of us, all right?” he says firmly. “We could use you there and you left.”

You left is petulant and sour on his lips, but Victor’s used up an eternity of digs at a man fifty years too old for it. He sighs, residually stubborn, “It’s not that easy.”

“I know,” Steve nods, crossing his arms with a resigned smile. “But apparently you can’t only be a superhero when it’s easy.” Victor’s thankful Nathan comes around the hall at that exact moment, because he was sure his face wouldn’t be able to contain how stupidly cheeseball that was.

Captain American nods to the new recruit, “Good work today.” though his praise is dampened by Nathan’s smarmy faux salute back at it.

“Anytime! Just point me at an enemy and I’ll let it horrifically kill me,” he says cheerfully, turning his attention back to Victor when Steve walks off, roughly messing with the cyborg’s hair. “You owe me a lifetime of free pints after tricking me into this freakshow.”

[derogatory]

ii.
To: Karolina
Subj: yes
Hellomy outer space love. almost died todayy. well not me thast all days lately but other peoepl now


To: Nathan
Subj: re;yes
oh no :( is everything ok? do u need me 2 call?


To: Karolina
Subj:
nahhh shit worked out in the end but got eme thinkgin

To: Karolina
Subj:
Althogh I am alittle drunk right now i wanted to send you someknowledge that deserves to be trasmaitted through all of spacetime

To: Karolina
Subj:
Vic likes a proper shag after a successfl avengers mission

To: Karolina
Subj:
THERE I SAID IT space desrved to know

To: Karolina
Subj:
tell your alisen friends


To: Nathan
Subj: re;
omg!!! ;p ur bad

To: Nathan
Subj: re;
but yeeeeeeeeeeaahh. vic mentioned rictor got pretty handsy after they worked, so i guess that makes sense it’s somethin he’s into.

To: Nathan
Subj: re;
kinda tmi tho!!!!!! but I’m sooo glad u guys r alright lol ;)


To: Karolina
Subj: ?
Whats a rictor?


To: Nathan
Subj: re; ?
um


To: Karolina
Subj: ????????????
worked?? Like anther bot? What ar you talking about? Is that ome fucks name?


To: Nathan
Subj: re; ????????????
UM ask victor!!





To: K
Subj: DIE
THANKS A LOT


To: Vic
Subj: omg you dun mean that :(
I’m sorry!!!!!!! I didn’t know he didn’t know!!!

To: Vic
Subj:
It’s weird you didn’t tell him


To: K
Subj: re; omg you dun mean that :(
This message failed to send because the recipient is MAD AT YOU


To: Vic
Subj: re; re; omg you dun mean that :(
Its creepy that you are able 2 program your phone 2do it instead of writing it out all pa-ly like other ppl do :(


To: K
Subj: re; re; re; omg you dun mean that :(
This message failed to send because the recipient is MAD AT YOU


To: Vic
Subj:
See?? it like sends before I even finish typing!!


To: K
Subj:
This message failed to send because the recipient is MAD AT YOU K A R O
L
I

N

A


To: Vic
Subj:
THATS CREEPY DONT DO THAT IM SORRY U KEEP SECRETS FROM NATHAN U WEIRDO




To: Cyborg 3
Subj: Enough
Cease sending those strange messages to Karolina at once.


To: Skrull Asshole
Subj: re; Enough
Don’t talk to me.



To: Vic
Subj: GRR
u set “dont talk to me” as an autosend to xavin????????? >:(


To: K
Subj: re; GRR
Yes. Sorry. But we are nowhere close to even.


To: Vic
Subj: re; re; GRR
TALK 2 UR BOYFRIEND ABOUT UR BOYFRIENDS

[derogatory]

iii.
“Space ghosts,” Tony drawls, face inches from the monitor, chin in his hands.

"Yep."

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. "That's a thing?”

“Why would that NOT be a thing?” Quill argues, leaning back as Rocket scowls into the lower half of the viewfinder.

“What, you think your planet’s got a monopoly on the undead?”

“I am Groot,” says the lower left side of the aforementioned speaker.

“Exactly! Completely insensitive. So give us the kid.”

“Can you not. say it like that?” Peter grimaces, hands at the back of his neck. He amends the statement gracefully, “Let us sorta borrow the kid.”

Rocket fixes him with a snarl, “How is that better? You always try and undermine me-”

“uh, Sorry?” Peter retorts, not even slightly apologetic. “But whose plan is this? You just wanted to blow it up.” It would solve the problem, the raccoon supplies. “How would having a bunch of murder ghosts LOOSE in the cosmos solve anything? At least right now they’re contained!”

“He is hardly a child.” Gamora speaks over the bickering, looking through the screen over her teammates’ heads. “Stark, your permission is not necessary. As an adult he can choose to come with us as a contract position until the situation is resolved. Would that suffice?”

“uh,” Nathan finally manages, all eyes on him, coffee undrunk in his hands.





“Space,” Victor reads, as he walks in the door, still looking from the text message to his boyfriend. “Space?” he repeats, voice sounding lost, and Nathan hops off the couch to meet him. Vic just came from a haircut and the situation is a little too serious for Nathan to spend it with his hands over the other guy’s hair. Not stopping him, though.

“Space,” he confirms, fingers working through too much product- what’s the point of having them cut it shorter if you’re going to let them girl it up like that? “It doesn’t sound like a long job.”

“It’s space,” Victor insists, batting Nathan’s hands away. “Time runs differently there, what could be a couple days for you could be like fifty years on Earth.”

Nathan pulls back in surprise, “Shit, really?”

“I don’t know,” Victor bites back, clearly having got started on his sulk fit on the train ride home. “I’ve never been invited.”

“Is it because you get motion sick?”

“No!” he cries, sinking into the sofa, adding hesitantly, “That was one time.” And with more reluctance, “I don’t know, I think it has to do with my dad, he sent out some data to other universes.” He trails off, unwilling to wander from one fussworthy topic to another. “When do you leave?”

“Tonight,” Nathan laughs at the horrified noise that comes out of Victor’s mouth, the deep disappointment written over his features before the cyborg closes the distance between them, eager to make use of the last few hours together.






“Can you promise me you’ll come back?” Victor asks and cringes at how very cheesy that sounds. He buries his face in the mattress, voice muffled, “Space is a pretty big deal, you might be like Carol and decide you’d rather be up there for awhile.”

Nathan crosses his hands over his chest and considers this.

“Sorry, no, I can’t promise that,” he admits and has to muffle a laugh at how fast Victor’s head comes back up, gaping after him. “You’re right, it might be a- Come back here, cut it out.” Victor squirms off the bed, muttering a few ‘fuck you’s as well as some ‘I can’t believe I did that and you’re gonna peace out’ because, as usual, the joke wasn’t half as funny as Nathan thought it would be.

“Hey, come on,” he snickers, reaching out for Victor. “I mean, if you wanna stay up there, we can.” Victor freezes, suspicious, not about to come back just yet. Nathan grins, hopefully in his more charming ways, shrugging, “Sorry, did I not mention you’re coming too? It was part of my terms since I’ll be putting in overti-- ow!” He grimaces at the growing bruise on his shoulder, gripeing that it’s practically domestic battery, swinging those robot fists like that. Victor settles over him, smiling but only slightly less furious.






Far be it for Nathan to respect something like the silence of space. He shifts his weight nervously, the cabin settling into a livable air pressure, before he blurts out, “Do you know if you send footage of a porno in space you get a million dollars?” It hangs high and awkward in the fresh oxygen.

Victor is working frantically to smooth out his helmet hair without a mirror, shooting his boyfriend a short smile.

“It’s cute that we are this far into the future and you think someone hasn’t already cashed in on that,” he says with a facsimile of comfort. Nathan holds his stare, realization setting in. “Yeah, it’s real, I saw it,” Victor coughs, Milano cabin doors sliding opening with a bit of elbow grease, adding hurriedly, “It was okay, we can talk about it later.”






Victor is more or less a “plus one” for this mission, which works out well enough since he spends half of the lightspeed trip to the Klyn throwing up.

(“His friends took him on a speedboat once.” Nathan somberly shakes his head. “It was carnage.”)

Turns out Ronan and Nebula massacred every living person on the Kyln. Which was only sort of A Thing since a majority of the people killed there were thieves and murderers, and mourning any Nova Corps unlucky or unskilled enough to be sent to work there paled in comparison with the casualties over Xandar. So they let the floating prison turned graveyard fester for a while.

“See,” Nathan says, feet resting on the nearest console. “That’s what you don’t wanna do. Not like they got shit else to do. Works ‘em right up into a ghost frenzy.” Peter reaches from the controls and shoves Nathan’s feet aside in one swift movement.

“Can you not be a jerk right now, please?” Victor groans, momentarily lifting his head to give what he hopes is a warning look to Nathan.

“Who’s being a jerk?” he laughs. “It’s sharing my ghost expertise and that’s what they called me here for.”

“You are here to dispel the spirits,” Gamora informs him tersely.

Nathan scoffs. Looking between them, “So what’re you lot gonna do while I’m playing ghost whisperer?”

“It would be more effective to speak over a whisper when dealing with these apparitions.”

Peter shoots Drax a sidelong look before replying, “Cover. Obviously.”

“What cover?” Nathan snits, arms crossed over his chest, a vocal skeptic now that he got past the whole space, shit, we’re actually in space, how are we not floating right now, oh actually this is right boring, how far to the Clit place? “What’s the genius plan for handling them that you had to call me for? I thought I was just talkin them to death, now you’re saying I’m in the line a some kind of ghost fire?”

“Oh, right, harmless ghosts.” Rocket rolls his eyes. “That’s why in the entire history of the galaxy, nobody’s ever had to fight a ghost, and we aren’t getting paid a gigantic bounty to get rid of a prison full of them.”

“Bounty,” Nathan echoes, expression lighting up, though quickly crashing into jealous, underpaid disgust when Rocket sneers,

“Pretty sure you’re salaried, kid.”

“Pretty sure I’m the one who’s going to be in danger here!”

“How much danger?” Victor croaks, face resting against the cool metal of the console, concerned look directed to Gamora, who ignores it.

“Oh, now he wants cover,” Rocket smirks, all canines. “‘cept a couple minutes ago you were saying they’re not gonna take you out. You hearing this, Quill?”

“I’m sitting right next to you,” Peter grumbles, banking a hard left when Nathan’s fuss over a lack of compensation reaches fever pitch. “Hey! We’re taking some junior Avengers into space! Don’t we get any gratitude for that??” and Victor politely takes that opportunity to gratefully throw up on the controls. A cold silence passes over the tensed group, broken by muffled apologies from Victor, face in his hands, this never happened on Leapfrog, what the hell.

“As if that is the first bodily fluid to be spilt on your deck,” Gamora growls. Quill looks accusingly between the team members, eventually settling on Groot with a short ‘you told!’ hissed between them.






Rocket will stay on the ship, citing that he’s clearly not needed on a mission where his strategy was dubbed “stupid and unimaginative.” (“Ineffective!” Peter shouts through the comm link. “I said it’s stupid and ineffective to set off a freakin ghost bomb! If you’re gonna talk shit, don’t misquote me.”)

Gamora and Quill work at prying open a set of security doors while Nathan lingers at his boyfriend’s elbow.

“Feeling any better?”

“Dios, do not touch me, I don’t wanna to puke on a ghost,” Victor groans, teetering uncertainly on the crippled vessel. The doors screech open with the stench of rotting bodies (“Awesome,” Peter gripes, hits a button and materializes his Star Lord mask on, good luck the rest of you jerks) and the team moves forward into the enclosed yard. Nathan can tell he’s stepping on what definitely used to body parts, but instead of looking down his attention is diverted elsewhere.

He’s worked enough with the newfound ghost whispering powers to know when one of them locks onto the living, honing in on a tangible entity. Most of the time they’re just lingering in a spot, not quite moved on or still trying to suss out what just happened to put them all ghostlike. The amount of spirits he’s had to meet eyes with and say, 'Sorry but you got killed by Hawkeye' has become downright tragic, that’s worse news than flat out dying. The Klyn’s different, these fuckers know they’re dead, come to terms with it ages back and they’ve been stewing in that and their own stink long enough to give the air in the prison a viscous layer of anger.

Most of them being psycho criminals before then probably adds to the whole “bad vibes” aspect too.

“Definitely going to be sick,” Victor mumbles, instinctively closing the distance between himself and the immortal who’s squinting for ghosts between the body parts. Nathan’s as sympathetic as the empty outreaches of space they traversed to get here.

“You know you can’t get sick on something that hasn’t got a corporal form,” he points out with a slow sad shake of his head. “You really know shit about what I do.”

“Right,” the cyborg grumbles. “And how much do you know about cybernetics?”

“Nerds,” Quill snaps, one hand up to stop them, the other raising his blaster. “Anyone else just feel the temperature drop, like. a lot?”

“No shit,” Nathan whistles and shoots Gamora’s chest a long look, “Careful love, you’ll poke somebody’s eye out with those.”

“That’s ghosts, right?” Victor whispers, and superhero space threat or not, he still sounds impressed at basic apparition parlor tricks. “They really do that? Lower the temperature?”

“They- don’t,” Nathan wheezes, clutching his neck where Gamora hit him, taking a short break to catch his breath. “Fuuuck. No, that’s not it.” He straightens up, glaring at- to anyone else looking- an indiscriminate point on the wall. “This one just wants to show off. All right,” he calls. “Not that I don’t appreciate giving us some nip slips with Green over here, I can fucking see you, asshole.”

“Is it a lot of ghosts?” Peter asks, pointing the blaster a few various directions, waiting for a general indication where the threat might be.

“It’s an entire space prison and then some, which I think is the textbook definition of a lot, yeah.” Nathan rolls his eyes and Victor, however queasy, shoots him a warning look. Just because you’re around a jackass like Quill is no need to get snipsnappy. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he declares and tries to ignore the way Victor’s mouth tightens.

[derogatory]

( When it first started, it wasn’t a gradual ramp-up, but a sudden onslaught. They ducked out of work early, some rest will set him right, but it hadn’t. Nathan’s been raging on through the night, arguing with countless unseens, twisting between Victor’s arms, eyes unfocused. He’s either swinging at the empty air or covering his ears, hissing curses and pleas into the silence.

When it doesn’t solve itself with dawn and prayers, Victor dials out, desperately.

“I know it’s early,” he chokes. “But I think Nathan’s possessed, you have to help.”

“Victor, slow down,” Pym mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “Someone in New York can help you.” Like an exorcist? “No, like an Avenger, I don’t know why you called me.” You’re an Avenger. “I’m across the country! Are you sure he’s not faking it?” Victor hurls the phone into the wall and Nathan doesn’t even break his stride, mid rant, face inches from the dented sheet rock.

Victor reaches around Nathan, into his jean pocket for Nathan’s phone, and he glances up, recognition in his eyes. Victor freezes hopefully, because is this all they need? Proximity, a hand down his pants- that seems like a hell of an oversight for demonic possession, before Nathan’s head rolls back and he spits, “Not you, not you, for fuck’s sake,” and almost collapses when Victor tries to pull his arms away.

“Victor? Sorry about the faking thing, I had to ask!” Pym says quickly when the call connects. No, you really didn’t, Victor growls.

“The Avengers can’t help him,” he cries into Nathan’s mobile. “They’ll lock him up.”

“Did you try talking to him?” Wow, no, let me put the phone down and try speaking to him for the first time in over twelve hours- of course I have! “Sorry, sorry again! I only mean, if it really is something like possession, your voice might be able to help, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t hear me,” Victor moans. “It’s like he’s talking to someone else. Like, a bunch of someone elses.” The silence stretches out between them and Victor’s only had a dad-grandpa for a few years, but it’s long enough he can tell the quiet of parental worry. “Are you still there?”

Hank clears his throat, definitely awake now. “Like how he talks to ghosts?”

“Yeah, but there aren’t any ghosts here, our apartment isn’t haunted. We’d sorta know by now.” Victor chews at the inside of his cheek, adding defensively, “He’s not crazy, he’s not talking to himself.”

“No, I understand Victor; it’s just if he’s talking to a lot of ghosts, that’s not a good sign for anybody, him or us.” Despite every string of code in his processes that makes him hate Hank or years spent with a team wholly against custodial involvement, Victor finds himself hanging on Pym’s words.

“Meaning what?” He squints in the early morning sun for the specters.

“Whatever has to happen to create a lot of ghosts, I guess,” Pym says grimly, adding, “You need to take him to Stark. I’ll check some things on my side and call you later.” and hangs up before Victor can argue. He drops the phone unceremoniously onto the couch, snarling through a fit of what a useless shit of an abuelo he is before he realizes Nathan’s watching him- actually looking at him, not through him like he spent a majority of the night before.

“Can you hear me?”

“I got some of it, yeah?” Nathan croaks with a ghost (ha!) of a grin over his tired expressions. “Might need that Spanish to English dictionary for the rest.” Relieved, Victor rushes towards him, summarizing the conversation in full,

“He’s a-a twat,” Nathan’s smile widens at the Britishism, you did that on purpose. “Maybe,” Victor counters with a weak smile in return, guiding Nathan towards the couch. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Nathan breathes.

“What should I do?” Victor’s not sure if Nathan heard him.

“Did you seriously tell him I’m possessed? Expectin me to go on spewing green soup or that shit?”

“Can you not bring that movie up,” Victor winces. “This is creepy enough already.”

“Oh good,” Nathan mutters, voice surly as they settle into a seat. “Really glad this ghost power of mine you insisted on cultivatin is too creepy for you.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Victor cries, heart sinking when Nathan turns his attention elsewhere. “So it is ghosts?” Nathan nods, short and distracted. “Maybe something bad happened,” Victor thinks aloud, glancing back to his boyfriend, slowly catching onto his earlier dour note, “Wait, ‘cultivat-‘ Are you saying this is my fault?” Nathan’s eyes aren’t focusing on anything Victor can see, shoulders tensed.

“Can you give me some fuckin space?” He suddenly shouts and Victor recoils, qué cono- “Nah, not you. It’s not. You’re fine, just don’t get too close, all right?” Victor shakes his head, the slightest of movements, still on edge from his shout, no fucking way he’s getting back, he’s not letting Nathan out of sight. “Fuck me, you’re stubborn. I mean. They’re shifty fucks, no promises they won’t- what?” He breaks off and Victor furtively strains his ears to try and catch whatever he’s missing.

“Nathan?” he murmurs, reaching for his face, but Nathan shoves his arms away, fitful and growling,

“If you all talk at once, how the hell am I-”

“Tell me how to fix this,” Victor pleads, but in the end, he’s not the one who does. And that’s fine, Jamie is important to Nathan. It’s stupid to be jealous of family, of the ghost that saved his boyfriend, but it’s not really jealousy that leaves the lingering bad taste in Victor’s mouth when he thinks of Jamie. He remembers every crease of panic over Nathan’s face, the fear that things will stay broken this way. The terse Avengers meeting where they discussed ‘options.’ Victor remembers every long minute of every shitty day it went down and wonders what the hell is so important for the dead that they need to torment the living- or whatever Nathan is now.

“I’m glad he showed up,” he forces through a strained smile as Nathan rattles off all the things ghost Jamie taught him. )






"Whoa," Quill crows, gun lowered, threat dispelled. He grins to Nathan, "All right, now say 'Bustin' makes me feel good.'"

[derogatory]

iv.
“Oh, I thought that was just in fics,” Kamala stares, hand over her mouth, leaning back on her heels. “Wow.”

Victor pulls back from the kiss, belatedly embarrassed, while Nathan scrunches up his face in confusion, “‘Fics’?”

“Do not tell him,” Victor grins, swooping in close to Kamala, adding incredulously, “Wait. You’ve never saw the tabloids about us?”

“I heard those were photoshop!” she cries. “My friends are gonna flip about this being canon, that’s awesome.” She pauses, lips pursed and wondering aloud if you can call something ‘canon’ if it’s RPS—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me!

Although Victor’s track record with teenage girls has been shit as of late, the two of them get on well enough, even if Victor won’t let her take a photo of them making out (Nathan has zero objections, of course). She’s a lot more useful in a fight than Nathan figured she’d be, young but still perfectly capable and not at all bossy like the previous holder of her namesake. Also she made her hand get really huge and crush that Hydra guy, which was pretty much the funniest way to handle a militaristic threat, as far as he’s concerned.

From what Nathan can glean, the biggest thing she and Vic have in common is being complete fucking maniacs over supers before either of them ever were ones. So they kill time and wait for the police, Kamala excitedly sharing her impressions of superheroes they had obsessed over- (“Worst road trip partner ever,” Victor groans and she chirps, “Logan? He’s so heavy! I didn’t realize adamantium weighed so much!”) to discussing the challenges of growing up with super powers.

“Somebody should write like, a manual,” she hums, leaning back against the Department of Records’ front steps, evil agents dangling from the lamp post she humanely strung them from.

“Like either of us would’ve read it,” Victor points out.

“Yeah right,” Nathan slides into the conversation. “You nerds would’ve devoured that shit well before you were even showing superman tendencies.” They both fix Nathan with identical sour looks under their masks. “You were too responsible.”

“I tried to be,” she admits at last, a small sheepish smile.

“‘With great power,’” Victor recites, and they’re back at it, swapping hero meet-up stories and comparing costume materials.

Most days the team-ups are shit (Daredevil comes to mind, the blind fat fuck) and Nathan would be happy to head out before the sirens are on their way. He doesn't make nice with most supers, which is their loss, really, he knows he’s amazing. But Victor is usually guilty by association, and if the cyborg doesn’t chase them off by being a total nerd, he’s usually written off when somebody scraps a personal relationship with Nathan.

Bad track record with teen girls or not, Nathan’s glad Victor found a friend to keep, even if she’s cute and she has a ghost over her shoulder. Because, yeah, Vic making another geek friend is most of it. But Kamala grins so bright there’s no point to a mask, you’d recognize that face in the dark, the resonant glow that makes having a ghost kid stalking you, unknown, a little less sad.

“Oi, fuck off,” Nathan grumbles, pushing him back into the ether. He’ll share Victor with somebody else, for the time being, but only the living.

[derogatory]

v.
“Oh, fuck,” Nathan whines, sinking down beside Victor, while the cyborg's body instinctively jerks back from any contact, hunched over tight and tense on the ground outside the warehouse. His breathing is hitched, pupils tiny dots in the center of his eyes. “Victor?”

“Did he say ‘Ultron tech’?” Tony’s voice resounds over the communicator, loud and hoarse, and Steve dismisses it, give us a second, Stark, there’s a situation. “Oh, a situation besides the killer robot brigade? Young?”

“Yeah, we definitely found a stash of robots,” he gulps. Nathan wrestles with the comm in his ear, trying to raise Victor’s chin with his other hand. “I think it’s the feedback, the thing with Vision and Ultron stuff? He shorts out.” Victor grimaces seconds too late when Nathan’s grip tightens, shaking apart under his hands. “He made it sound like it’d be, uh more seizure-y though.”

“That’s because he’s in shock. Mancha!” Cap elbows Nathan aside, kneeling down in front of the kid, hands over his shoulders. “Snap out of it.” Through the comm he orders, “Send in a removal, we’re getting out, this isn’t the objective. We need recon before we go into something like this.”

“Hey,” Nathan whispers, sliding back to place as Steve straightens up. Nathan yanks his gloves off, pushing Victor’s mask off his face. He looks a little more aware than when he first went down, still too wide eyes scanning over Nathan’s face. “Shock, yeah? Did you faint?” he forces a grin and Victor’s neck snaps, turning fast back to the warehouse, buckling over. No, no, no, no no nono. Nathan flinches, forcing his tone light, “Okay, okay. We’re going.”

“Tony says you stay,” Steve informs him as they ease Victor onto his feet. “We need to know who’s in charge of these things, if it’s actually-” Steve cuts himself short, the two men looking to Victor like he’s a child and Ultron’s something you have to spell out instead of say so it doesn’t upset him. “-so you’ll do some quick recon.”

“Recon,” Nathan echoes furiously, loud enough they better hope those robots inside don’t have high tech auditory sensors. “I talk to ghosts. Unless there was some kind of grisly manufacturing death, ghosts aren’t going to be around here!” Victor groans, that’s a possibility maybe. "You do the fucking recon!"

“Not up for discussion.” Captain’s orders. Nathan’s not sure if it’s that he’s starting to seem like a legitimate Avenger in Steve’s eyes, or it was the noise Victor makes when he pries them apart, but his tone softens, “Young, you’ll be fine. Removal is tricky, and I know you can’t die, but he can. And if Ultron’s really back, we’re going to need Victor. I’ll make sure he gets out.”

“No shit you will,” Nathan mutters and turns away to find intel or whatever because Victor’s starting to look aware enough to be scared of what's through those doors.

“Just find out who made your boyfriend a new baby brother or sister, Lucky,” Tony orders grimly.






In the end they weren’t Ultron made, just poor copies. Of course, Nathan has to find all that out the hard way, and the secondary removal comes just a few seconds short of another cyborg murder (“Too bad,” he’d gloated as the helicopter pulled him away. “I think you get a free burger when you hit 100.”) And yeah, the Avengers will have to go back and knock out this wannabe cyber-lord and it will be more hard than easy, but not as bad as it could be.

He needs to brief Cap on it first, then Hill, but at least he can text the good news before the post-mission starts.


To: Robocop
Subj:
It’s not him, you’re okay.

To: Robocop
Subj:
Theyre just Ultron knockoffs

To: Robocop
Subj:
I suggested calling them “Ultren”

To: Robocop
Subj:
Anyway if it was your dad, he’d want Hank to know right? So it’s not

TO: Robocop
Subj:
See you back home soon






Nathan has a fleeting moment of panic that they checked Victor back into the hospital when the lights are off, but nope, he’s just sitting in the dark in his uniform still like a crazy person.

“Kinda thought you’d be more cheered up,” Nathan says, taking off his coat, keeping the tone easy. “Considering you don’t have an army of siblings to fight.” He flips on every lightswitch he can reach, watching the uneasy lift of Victor’s face.

“I choked,” Victor announces miserably. “I thought my dad was back and I choked.” Nathan shrugs, walking across the room to meet him, leaning over a sullen shoulder at the counter.

“Yeah, no shit,” he says, in not one of his best attempts to smooth it over. “Who wouldn’t? If an army of my dads showed up all of a sudden-” Victor turns so fast he nearly elbows Nathan in the throat.

“Don’t make this into a stupid joke!” and Nathan is reminded in a not so fun manner how young Victor is. His mouth curls in disgust, shuddering. “I was a mess.” You were fine, Nathan offers gently, or as much as he can get. “I flipped out. That's worse than the feedback, that's-” Victor strains for the words, flailing uselessly for a moment before settling on a furious and helpless, “I'm supposed to be an Avenger.” Like that means anything, the immortal notes.

“All right, calm down,” Nathan laughs through his nerves, “So you went a little nuts, okay. On the grand scheme of goin nuts, I'd see a little crying is hardly the worst you could do, faced with your dad and all, right?” He inches forward, not wanting to get half sucker punched again with Victor flinching around. He’s not as cold and clammy this time around and Nathan rests his hands on either side of Vic’s face, down his neck.

“Nobody's mad at you, if that's what you're thinking,” Nathan speaks up again a last, carefully. “Honestly, Cap wanted me to make sure you were all right-” And nope, wrong fucking thing to say, like clockwork. Victor snakes away again, pacing, coiled tight with his guilt.

“Oh, great. The Avengers being worried about me is even worse,” Victor rails, hands in his hair. “I shouldn't even be an Avenger- You were more of one there than I was." And Nathan’s such a great fucking boyfriend he doesn't take offense to that.

“You're getting all upset over nothing,” he points out, throwing his hands up defensively when Victor turns, wide eyed and furious after him. “Okay! Not nothing, but you know what I mean. It wasn't the real thing.” Victor stops quick, processing that carefully, fight still on his lips but hesitating enough for Nathan to hurry on, “Yeah, not the real thing. Sorta like a dress rehearsal if your dad showed up again-”

“‘If,’” Victor echoes bitterly. “He’s going to come back,” and it’s a promise, not a threat, with enough certainty in it that neither man wants to dwell too long on why Victor is so sure.

“If,” Nathan finally repeats, quietly. “Then you won’t freak out about it next time.” He cracks a smile, adding, “Trust me a little on this, I’m an Avenger.” Victor hesitates and finally smiles back weakly, head down, laughing until he’s not.






Victor murmurs in his sleep, and Nathan thinks it’s the start of a nightmare before his phone starts ringing. He takes the phone with the hand that's not asleep, trapped under the cyborg. Who designs a robot on the same frequency as mobiles anyway?

“This is a surprise,” Nathan mutters into the receiver, balancing it against his shoulder.

“I am attuned to the communicators at all time. There are certain words that I am alerted to.” ‘Ultron’, yeah, Nathan gets it. He lets the silence hang as long as it can between them before Nathan has to hear his own voice. Not as if The Vision would get uncomfortable with stretched out silences.

“If you’re calling to talk to him, he’s asleep,” Nathan says under his breath, trying to ease his arm out from under the other man- nope, no dice, he’s snoring. He continues, because he can totally have a proper conversation without brother-of-the-year weighing in, “Yeah, he still sleeps, comes with having some kinda panic attack. Should’ve seen the epic nap he took after our LA trip-” The Vision interjects swiftly,

“A panic attack? That’s interesting.”

“Fuck off,” he barks, quick and loud enough Victor stops snoring, whoops.

“I don’t mean it positively,” Vision replies after a pregnant pause. Nathan glowers at the receiver, because every break in the conversation isn’t a hesitation from the A.I, but him probably going over a billion possible scenarios and calculations, weighing the worth of this conversation with the great work he could do for the universe or some shit. “I only meant it’s interesting the depth of Victor’s reaction was-”

“If the next words out of your robomouth aren’t ‘shit’,” Nathan grits, as quiet as possible when something sour is coursing through his veins. “What are you calling for anyway?” Another cagey silence, big fucking surprise. Nathan seriously considers hanging up, but far be it for him to know when to call in a fight. “You checkin in or just offering us a status report?” A thought dawns on him and Nathan gapes, “Wait, the hell are you calling me for, we’re not friends.”

“It seemed appropriate to call,” he responds, as dismissive as an unfeeling robot fuck can get, no offense to the semi-robotic in his arms. Weighing the issue aloud for once, Vision continues, slowly, “It’s possible I knew how badly he would take our father’s return.”

“And if your dad came back- (“When,” Vision interjects, because it’s a fucking family trait here.) -you’d take it just fine?” Nathan counters scathingly. He’s probably imagining the sarcasm since it’s unlikely Ultron programmed the voice box to have a “snark” setting.

“Having experienced it before, I know I wouldn’t have a panic attack, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Go to hell,” Nathan hisses. “Since you’re the fuckin expert, what’s the plan if this actually happens?”

“I suppose,” he begins and Vision’s never a particularly animated guy, but his next words are measured more carefully than usual. It’s probably for thinking up a future he calculates as much as his brother. “You would have a lot of work ahead of you.”

Nathan hangs up the phone with a cringe as Victor shifts, looking through half opened eyes.

“Vision?” he asks and Nathan nods, stilted, still mad, only half unnerved about the prospect of major ghost spotting in the potential dad returning future. “He was worried about me?” Victor yawns, inching forward until his face is against Nathan’s shoulder.

“‘Course,” he lies easily. “What are big brothers for?”