Gunpowder and Satin ; BW

3.11

YOUR POV

"You've reached the voicemail box of..." I drowned out the recorded message as I laid on the edge of the tower, one leg dangling over the edge. I heard the beep and took a deep breath, "Hey, ma. Uh, I know you're not talking to me anymore but dad-uh, Rumlow.. he's dead. You probably don't care but uh.."

I looked over when I heard the automatic door slide open, sitting up when my beautiful girlfriend walked over, wearing small thin pajamas.

"I got to go, ma." I clicked the end call button, stuffing my phone in my pocket. I pulled Nat in by her hips, a small content sigh heard from her.

"What did your mom say?" She asked, her fingernails raking against my scalp.

I sighed, "Nothing. Voicemail again."

"She'll come around." Nat kissed my forehead lightly.

I hummed, resting my head on her toned stomach. Nat began laughing to herself and I looked up at her, my chin resting on her stomach.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"I'm just thinking about our future. How our possible future kids are going to have powers with two bad ass moms. They're going to look so cute in their little hero outfits, swinging through the city next to their mom." Nat looked at me lovingly.

"The Spider fam." I laughed.

Nat snorted, "I like Arachnids better."

"We're going to be like the Incredibles, or the cooler Fantastic Four."

Nat laughed, her head tilting back. I just admired her, taking in everything that she was because tomorrow was never promised.

"We should head inside, it's getting cold." Nat shivered. I nodded, picking her up and tossing her over my shoulder, smacking her ass and she squealed, hitting my back as I ran into the tower laughing my ass off.

TONY'S POV

"That was nice, what you did for those young people." An woman in her mid to late thirties told me, turning back around to watch the elevator doors.

I waved off the compliment, adjusting my shirt collar, "Ah, they deserve it. Plus, it helps ease my conscience."

"They say there's a correlation between generosity and guilt. But if you've got the money . . . break as many eggs as you like. Right?"

I narrowed my eyes at the woman, managing to plaster on a half smile. I pushed the elevator door button. "Are you going up?"

The woman turned and fully looked at me, "I'm right where I need to be."

I flinched when she shoved her hand in her handbag, my hand flying to her wrist. The ebony tanned woman looked up at me and I smiled awkwardly, removing my hand.

"Sorry about- uh, it's an occupational hazard. Can never be too careful." I gulped.

"I work for the State Department. Human Resources. I know it's boring . . . but it enabled me to raise a son. I'm very proud of what he grew up to be." She shoved a creased photo into my chest, large tears welling in her eyes.
"His name was Charlie Spencer. You murdered him. In Sokovia. Not that it matters in the least to you. You think you fight for us. You just fight for yourself."

I just shook my head, eyes burning a hole through this happy picture of her son.

"Who's going to avenge my son, Stark? He's dead . . . and I blame you." The woman spat at me with so many emotions, before walking away, leaving me standing here with a grim frown.