Warnings: Suicidal ideation, language
I also want to clear something up: in this oneshot, the names 'Miss Potts,' 'Missus Potts,' and 'Mister Potts' are used. Miss Potts refers to Pepper, and the others refer to her parents.
Pairings: Tony x Pepper (a little bit)
Peter's P.O.V.
Across the sky,
Clouds are splayed,
Napping and resting
From a tiring day.
On the leaves,
Droplets land,
Finding perches and peace
On the wooden hands.
Mountains rising
Valleys falling
Like an ancient being breathing
Offering hospitality across its breast
Rivers and streams
Are tears she did cry,
For the world she has given
And the little in return.
Oceans are her eyes,
With waves of tears rolling.
Rolling.
Hurricanes form in the blink of her eyes.
Her eyes are closed to transform the night.
Oh, beautiful views,
Dancing in the sky,
Living in the oceans
And weaving through the rye.
Oh, beautiful views,
Take me home
Craft me a place
And take me home.
Ink splatters across the page as the pen falls from my hand, landing in between the lines like a perfectly placed metaphor in a tale. I glance at my fingers and see the swirls of ink, left behind from careless doodles. My words are crafted of swirls and bends, carved out of a thoughtfulness that I normally don't have. Something's wrong inside of me, and I know it. Something has broken inside of me for it to do this.
I look up, marveling at the mountains that rise so high in front of me, cloaked in trees and homes. Branches reach out like hands to grab an unaware traveler. Roads encircle the large hills like bonds of a captor. Clouds form images like a movie for their superiors.
In valleys I see trees stretching tall, rivers snaking like veins throughout. Boats ferry people from side to the other, pushing against rushing currents to deliver their cargo. Animals scamper about, choosing paths on which to hunt.
It's beautiful here. Mister Stark invited me to come to Tennessee with him and Miss Potts because this is where her family lives. Other than Germany and Washington D.C., I haven't been many places.
Miss Potts' family has a big cabin, and that's where we're staying. I get my own guest room, but when I got bored there, I came here. I'm leaning up against a tree, and the air is still. It's nice to be just me and nature, however, the time to think is not appreciated.
Out here, it is me and my thoughts, and for so long, I've tried to distract myself from them. It just reminds me of how alone I feel, how poisoned I am. I'm broken, battered, bruised, and worthless. A hero I believed myself, but no more. I've tried to save worlds and be a hero, but I'm one person. Why not leave it to the big kids? How can I be a hero for anyone else, when I can't even save myself?
What am I even living for? I wonder to myself. I don't want to be alive, so why am I still here?
It'd be easy.
Just courage.
I stare up at the trees that clasp their hands over my head. I look out across the lakes spread out like tears frozen on a crying face. So beautiful, and I, so unworthy to live in it.
I bury my head in my hands; I shouldn't be here. Why am I here? What good have I done?
"Peter, honey, dinner's ready." I don't even jump, just stare out through my fingers. I hear footsteps breaking sticks and crunching leaves. Miss Potts comes and sits down beside me, looking out at the view.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she says. I hum a yes, not sure what she's getting at. "When I was a little girl, I used to come out here and look for fairies. I'd make up stories and pretend I was a princess. And when I got older, I would come out here and wonder why I'm here. I'd wonder what I'd done to deserve to still be here." She glances at me, bringing the hands down from my face and clasping them in her own. "I know that look, Peter. I know how bad it feels. I'm not going to promise you it'll get better because that's not how life works. There are bad parts, and good parts, and sometimes, in-between parts.
"You don't have to have hope for any of it. You can just live for it. Just live, and the beauty will come." She squeezed my hands. "Let me show you?"
"Okay," I mumble. She smiles and stands up, pulling me up with her. She leads me through the woods, an arm around my shoulder. Something about it is so homely, so like the family I've craved. I hug my notebook to my chest.
Miss Potts holds the door open for me, and the smell of spaghetti comes to greet me. Bile rises in my throat, and I tamp it down. I have to give it a chance, I think. It's not that I don't like spaghetti--I used to love it--but the very thoughts of eating now just hurts. In my conquest for being perfect and good enough, I've forgotten what it is to enjoy something. Everything exists to fix me now and judge me. My mind simply won't accept the idea that anyone would do anything for me.
She ushers me to the kitchen where her parents are serving. Missus Potts is putting spaghetti on plates, and Mister Potts is getting drinks. Missus Potts turns to me, a smile on her face and spoon in her hand. "How much would you like, dear?" she asks.
"Just a little bit, please," I say, and she hands me a plate with some noodles on it and sauce on top. She places a piece of garlic bread on it, and I thank her.
Mister Potts asks me what I want to drink, and I request milk. When I receive it, I take my stuff to the table. I wonder where to sit when Miss Potts pushes me gently to a seat beside her. I wait to eat until everyone comes to the table, and I wonder what made me so blest to be here at this table with people so much better than me.
Throughout dinner, Miss Potts talks to me, that is, until Missus Potts begins to tell a story about her to Mister Stark when he asks for embarrassing stories.
"I remember when Virginia was little that she was eating a donut with sprinkles on it. She was maybe three at the time, and one of the sprinkles fell off." Miss Potts buries her head in her hands. "'Son of a bitch' was what she said," Mister Stark roars with laughter as she continues. "Of course, we couldn't correct her because, I mean, that's one of the times you would say that."
I laugh a little bit, and Miss Potts smiles at me. "Do you have any more?" Mister Stark asks eagerly.
"There was one time when we left her home alone because our car was broken down. When I came home with the rental car, she didn't recognize it and called 911. Now, I really had to use the bathroom, and I couldn't find my keys, so I was pounding really hard on the door, thinking she could hear me--"
"I was hiding in their bedroom with the door locked," Miss Potts interjects. "I could hear Mom pounding on the door, and I was freaking out. And Dad decided he was going to go around the house and pound on every single window." Mister Stark is laughing hard, and I manage a chuckle.
Once we've all eaten dinner, Miss Potts asks for the keys to her dad's boat. He throws them to her, and she catches them easily. "Make sure Peter has a life jacket," he says, and she nods.
"Thanks, Dad," she calls over her shoulder as I follow her out the door. Mister Stark stays behind to talk to them, so it's just Miss Potts and me.
Miss Potts leads me to a path marked with stones built into the land. The waterfront stretches out before us, the last glimmering rays of the setting performing their final show on the grand stage of water. We make our way down the hill to where a pontoon boat is docked. The water-reflected light dances across the metal hull. The boat is dressed in white with stripes of black. A small American flag is draped on a light situated on the canopy.
Miss Potts leads the way across the white dock, its bumps scratching my shoeless feet. She grabs the railing of the gate and pulls the boat closer. She lifts the latch and lets me onboard. She lifts the seat to show life jackets stowed away. Drawing out a purple and black one splashed with red, she hands it to me. "Try this on," she says.
I unbuckle the buckles and slide it on over my science pun shirt ('do I know any science puns?' 'Na'). It's comfortable when I buckle the straps, and Miss Potts steps forward, taking the shoulder straps and pulling them up. The jacket rises slightly, and she lets go, satisfied. She shuts the compartment and shuts the gate. I look around, seeing the couch-like benches wrapping around the front. The back is similar with only half of if with benches and the other side with the driver's spot, not unlike that of a car but without pedals.
I take a spot at the front right corner and watch as Miss Potts leans over the side to untie the rope from the cleats. Then, she slips the ropes off the poles and pushes the boat off. She makes her way past me and takes her seat, putting the keys in the ignition. The motor gives a low hum as she lowers it into the water. She guides us away from the dock, and I see the wide lake spread out before us.
I lean back as Miss Potts slides down her sunglasses and begins to maneuver the boat. Her right hand goes to the shift and pushes it forward slightly. We begin to accelerate, creating a wake.
The wind slides past my face, and I glance back at Miss Potts. She has a nostalgic smile on her face, and her hair flies behind her, untamed. She motions for me to come back, and I do. I take a seat across from her and watch as she drives calmly.
"Peaceful, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's beautiful," I reply. She glances over at me. I lean my head back slightly, enjoying the breeze.
For a while, we didn't speak. I see a few other boats out fishing, but, for the most part, the surface of the water goes undisturbed. Miss Potts presses a pair of sunglasses into my hand, and I put them on. She drives us into the center of the lake and cuts the engine. We drift a little.
I find myself staring out at the setting sun, its rays cast out across the sky and the lake on which we drift. I can hear the water softly lapping against the boat and the soft sound of Miss Potts' breathing.
"When I'm in the city," she says softly, as if not wanting to disturb the silence, "I can't help remembering this. Out here, there's no one. No annoying bosses or noisy coworkers. No hero work. And every time I come back here, it's always more beautiful than I imagined or remembered.
"I love my job, and I love Tony, but this..." she gestures to the lake, "this is home. This doesn't stress me out. Out here, I can just be me, without the world beating me down. Sometimes, I just have to get away. And so do you, Peter. Even if you're the most powerful, nicest, most out-there person in the world, you have to take a break. You can be a hero for everyone else, but you have to come first, honey. Because if you aren't taking care of yourself, then you can't take care of anyone else." She gets up and kneels in front of me. "You are just as important as anyone else. Even if you don't know why you're here, your life is just as important as mine, or Tony's, or anyone else's. Okay?"
"I understand." She wraps me in a hug, and I lean against her. It's just a good hug--warm and strong.
She pulls away and smiles softly at me. "Okay. Now, how about we watch this sunset?" I smiled back and turned to watch the beautiful view as it changed and warped. And I listened to the water and our breathing, at peace.
Oh, beautiful views,
Dancing in the sky,
Living in the oceans
And weaving through the rye.
Oh, beautiful views,
Take me home
Craft me a place
And take me home.
And take me home....
As far as my oneshots go, I think this is one of my favorites. I'm proud of it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Have a wonderful day!