HYDRA Hates Field Trips

Peter Parker, Spider-Man, new Stark Industries intern. Codename: “The Kid.”
After an attempted kidnapping by HYDRA, Peter finds himself under protective house arrest in the Avengers Tower. But as Tony introduces the other Avengers to “The Kid,” HYDRA is planning another attempt, this time on the tower itself.
Throw in an ill-timed field trip to Stark Industries by Midtown’s decathlon team, an odd habit of taking breakfast foods for a walk, and an overprotective team of Avengers who’ve fallen in love with the mysterious “Kid,” and you get a showdown at the Avengers Tower, a bit of Spidey-whump, and a rescue.
Will Peter be able to keep all his identities secret?
AKA the fic where Peter wanders around the Avengers Tower with a bowl of cereal

Notes:

This was supposed to be a short field-trip fic. I don’t know what happened.
Not canon-compliant: Civil War ended happily with a heavily amended version of the accords being signed and everyone being friends again, the Avengers Tower is still in New York and hosts Stark Industries, JARVIS is still alive, and even though Spider-Man took part in the battle in Berlin none of the Avengers (except Iron Man) know his secret identity. And Infinity War never took place, because I don’t even know how to deal with that.
Rated teen for language and non-graphic violence.

Chapter 1: The Avengers Are Decent Babysitters

Chapter Text

The Avengers Are Decent Babysitters

“Who is this and how did you get this number and why on Earth are you calling me at two in the morning?”

“Is this Tony Stark?” a woman’s voice asks.

“I’ll repeat myself only once. How did you get this number?”

“This is May Parker, Peter’s aunt. He gave me your number in case of emergencies.”

Tony quickly changed his demeanor. “What’s wrong? Is Peter okay?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t come home. He went out patrolling, but we have a deal where he had to be home by midnight on weekends. And he didn’t—he hasn’t come home.” Aunt May hiccuped into the phone. It was obvious she’d been crying. “Can you—”

“On it. I’ll call you once I know more.”

“Thanks, Mr. St—” Aunt May began, but she was cut off by Tony abruptly hanging up on her.

“JARVIS, get me eyes on underoos.” Tony spoke into the ceiling as he whipped out his latest StarkPad, bringing up the alert dashboard for Peter’s vitals. The Spider-Man suit’s AI, Karen, was strangely offline.

“Mr. Parker has just entered the tower lobby. He doesn’t appear to be able to stand. Shall I call an ambulance?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll go get him. Wake up Bruce and tell him to meet us in MedBay A.”

“Of course, Boss,” JARVIS replied.

Distantly, Tony could hear the loud alarm blaring from Dr. Banner’s room. He raced towards the private elevator, which JARVIS opened automatically for him. As it sped down towards the Avengers Tower’s lobby, Tony tapped his foot impatiently. It was Stark-designed, and one of the fastest elevators in the world, but it still felt too slow.

“JARVIS, make a note to increase elevator speed.”

“The elevator is already at maximum speed possible under current laws of physics,” the AI replied.

“JARVIS, make a note to break the laws of physics and increase elevator speed.”

“Noted.” If AI could roll their eyes, JARVIS would have certainly rolled his.

After a nerve-wracking and improbably short elevator ride, Tony arrived at the lobby. He noticed the limp form of Spider-Man not far from the front door, suit torn and covered in blood, a pool of red forming beneath the teenager’s body. A security guard was rushing towards the teen at the same time as Tony, pulling out a walkie-talkie to call for an ambulance before he was stopped by Tony.

“No ambulance, I’m taking him upstairs.” Tony gathered the boy in his arms bridal-style—even without the Iron Man suit, the scientist could easily support Peter’s petit frame.

“Of course, Mr. Stark. I don’t know how he got in the building, he just—” the guard said, following Tony towards the man’s private elevator. The doors were still open, JARVIS having kept the elevator waiting.

“I’ve got it,” Tony said, striding into the waiting elevator.

The doors shut behind him and the elevator began zooming to the floor with MedBay A, which was located in the Avengers penthouse.

“JARVIS, scan vitals.”

“Pulse elevated but stable. Blood loss levels are concerning but likely non-fatal. Probable concussion. Breath shallow but unobstructed. Multiple visible lacerations. I am unable to take a full-body scan, as it appears that Karen is not functional.”

“Damn. Is Bruce already there?”

“Yes, boss. I’ve informed Dr. Banner that his patient has major blood loss and a probable concussion, and the doctor has set up the MedBay to accommodate Peter.”

“It’s Spider-Man right now,” Tony corrects the AI. Bruce Banner, the mild-mannered scientist behind the incredible Hulk, didn’t know that Spider-Man was just a fifteen-year-old kid from Queens. Neither did the rest of the Avengers, and none of them had met Peter (though, except for Bruce, Thor, and Loki, they’d all fought either with or against Spider-Man in Berlin before both sides came to an agreement over a heavily-amended version of the Sokovia Accords).

“Understood, boss.”

The elevator doors dinged open and Bruce was waiting right outside with a stretcher. Tony laid Peter’s unconscious body on it and they rushed off towards MedBay A.

“Is that Spider-Man?” Bruce asked as he slipped a heart rate monitor onto Peter’s finger. Because the Hulk hadn’t been in Berlin, he’d never met Spider-Man, though he’d heard about the web-slinger from Nat.

“Yes.”

“He’s smaller than I expected.”

“Just help him,” Tony said anxiously, drawing an appraising glance from Bruce. Clearly Tony cared about the hero (or menace, according to the Daily Bugle).

“I can start an IV and blood transfusion, but unless I remove his suit I won’t be able to look at the actual injuries.” Bruce sounded apologetic, knowing that Spider-Man kept his true identity a closely guarded secret.

“JARVIS, cut video and audio recording and black out the windows,” Tony commanded the AI. Looking at Bruce, he added, “Nothing gets out of this room.”

“Scout’s honor,” Bruce mumbled as he grabbed surgical scissors and began cutting through Peter’s suit.

“You were never a boy scout. And be careful—his healing factor and metabolism is on par with Cap’s, so you’ll probably need higher med dosages.”

“He’s a mutant?”

“Mutate,” Tony corrected.

Bruce had finished cutting the Spider-Man suit off of Peter—and both men were relieved that he was wearing boxers underneath. Tony blushed when he noticed they were Iron Man print, though Bruce respectfully said nothing. But when Bruce reached to roll up Peter’s mask, he couldn’t keep silent.

“Christ, Tony, he’s just a kid.”

“Save the lecture. Just help him, Bruce.”

Two hours passed and Peter was stabilized. Bruce had used butterfly closures on the open cuts (“if he’s anything like Cap, the wounds will heal in a few hours and stitches would be overkill”), applied salve and gauze to the burns, and pumped Peter full of saline and nutrients.

“What the hell happened to him?” Bruce asked.

“I don’t know,” Tony said, pacing the MedBay. The inventor hadn’t stopped moving since he’d brought Peter in, worried about the teen. And he was extremely worried—why hadn’t Peter woken up yet?

“Mr. Stark?” Peter let out a quiet groan and opened his eyes. The honey-brown orbs were practically obscured by his dilated pupils.

“Right here, underoos.” Tony rushed to the teen’s side.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good.”

“Not surprising, given how beaten up you were when you got here,” Bruce said, stepping over to the hospital bed and waving a flashlight in front of the boy’s eyes. “Can you tell me your na—no, wait, can you tell me the date?”

“Oh my glob, you’re Dr. Banner. I just finished your paper on the effects of gamma radiation on second-generation mutates and the increased probability of cancer-cell regeneration. It was awesome,” Peter said, still fuzzy but starstruck.

Bruce chuckled. “Tony, where the hell did you find this kid?”

“Queens—” “Not a kid—” Tony and Peter spoke at the same time.

Peter then realized that he wasn’t wearing his mask. He wasn’t wearing anything at all, other than his boxers. “Oh no,” he said. “Where’s my mask? How many people saw me without—”

“Relax, kid. Just me and Bruce here.”

“Not a kid,” Peter grumbled again, sitting up and looking over his myriad injuries.

“What, would you rather I used your actual name?”

“Wait, no. I don’t want Dr. Banner to—I mean, secret identities are secret for a reason, right?” Peter rambled.

“What would you prefer instead of kid? Underoos?”

“Why can’t you just call me Spider-Man?”

“Can’t do that. You’re supposed to be starting an actual Stark Industries internship next week, or did you forget? We can’t have a teenager walking through the labs with a badge that says Spider-Man. And I won’t let you wear the suit the whole time anyway. Not only would it be a potential safety hazard, but your suit’s in rough shape.”

“What?” Peter asked, looking around for the suit. It had been a gift from Tony, and it meant everything to him. If he’d damaged it…

“I had to cut it off to look over your wounds,” Bruce said apologetically, noting that most of them had already scabbed over and were beginning to heal.

“Which brings me to my next point,” Tony said, pointing an accusatory finger at Peter. “What the hell happened? You come into the lobby with a concussion, covered in blood and bruises and cuts and freaking burn marks, and pass out.”

“I…” Peter squinted his eyes and tilted his head as he tried to remember, grimacing as the angle made the lump on the back of his neck pulse.

“Start at the beginning,” Bruce said.

“A very good place to start,” Peter said, allowing himself a small smile as Tony rolled his eyes. “I was going on patrol after dinner, so I kissed my aun—I mean, my roommate—goodbye and swung out the window. There was a bully picking on a middle schooler down an alley, so I dropped down on them and webbed up the bully. I didn’t call the police on him or anything, he was just a kid himself, but I gave him a stern talking to. I actually got a lot of the speech from one of the Captain America PSAs. You know, the one where he—”

“Captain America PSAs?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, you know, the ones they show in schools? Against bullying, or about physical fitness, or ‘your changing bodies,’ that sort of thing. Anyway, I left him webbed up, since I used the weaker web fluid on him and it dissolves in thirty minutes instead of two hours. And then I walked over to Delmar’s and grabbed a sandwich, since, you know, metabolism. I ate it on the roof of the library, when I heard a woman crying, and it turns out her dog had escaped, but don’t worry, I found him. He was a poodle, and—get this—his name was Hulk. How cool is that?”

“Really?” Bruce asked, touched. He wasn’t one of the Avengers with a big fan base.

“Kid, can you get this on track? I don’t need to hear about your runs to the deli and making friends with poodles. How did you end up like this?”

Peter sighed. “There were, like, twenty dudes. They were mugging a woman, but I think it was staged so that I’d show up. They were wearing these dumb bright green jumpsuits with yellow boots and gloves—not exactly inconspicuous colors—and there was this skull octopus thing painted on the back? And they knew my name. My real name, I mean. And that I was Spider-Man. And they kept saying stuff about taking me for testing and healing factors and metabolism and I legit freaked out. I tried to run away but they grabbed me and tazed me—which, by the way, ow. And they tried to put a bag over my head but I started wailing on them, and then they started wailing on me, and then we were all wailing on each other, right? But then there were sirens and cops coming, and they scattered, so I webbed up to the roof and I guess I must have gotten here somehow?”

“Crap. HYDRA,” Tony said.

“HYDRA?” Bruce looked at Peter. Escaping twenty trained HYDRA agents who were sent to kidnap him? The teenager was definitely skilled. “Crap.”

“Who’s HYDRA?”

“Bad news. Modern-day Nazis. They’re like—what’s a cultural reference you’d understand?” Tony said.

“I think ‘Nazis’ is fine,” Bruce said.

“What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks, Nazis? So why do they want me? And how do they know my secret identity? And what are they planning on doing to me once they get me?” Peter blurted.

“One question at a time, kid. One, I don’t know. Two, I don’t know. Three, also I don’t know.” Tony frowned at Peter. “But until we figure it out, you’re staying here. I’ll call back the Avengers for protection detail—don’t worry, they’ll only know you by a codename, so both Spider-Man and your secret identity are safe. Bruce won’t say anything. And I’ll fill S.H.I.E.L.D. in to start looking for local HYDRA hives.”

“But what about school—”

“I’ll talk to your… roommate. I need to let her know you’re okay anyway. We’ll get an excused absence, something about your internship.”

“Is she going to be safe?” Peter asked, concerned about Aunt May, alone in their shared apartment in Queens.

“I’ll assign a S.H.I.E.L.D. detail to her. She’ll be fine. It doesn’t sound like they’re interested in her anyway.”

“Can you send Happy too?” Peter asked, eyes wide and falsely innocent. After all, there was at least one person interested in her.

Tony rolled his eyes, seeing through Peter’s thinly veiled attempt at setting his Aunt May up with Tony’s chauffeur and bodyguard (and friend) Happy Hogan. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” Bruce said, joining the conversation. “But he needs at least one day more of bedrest. And he probably shouldn’t fall asleep for the next 24 hours.”

“Well, kid, how do you feel about heading down to the R&D floors to meet some of the other interns followed by a Star Wars marathon?” Tony asked with a smirk.

Tony Takes First Shift

“JARVIS, where are we at with getting the kid an ID badge?”

“Mr. Hogan is on his way up right now with one, boss,” the AI replied.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Tony said as the elevator arrived and Happy stepped out. “Kid, come over here.”

Peter walked towards Tony, who steered him towards the elevator Happy was waiting outside of. Happy was one of the few people at the Avengers Tower who knew Peter’s true identity—both as Peter Parker, and as Spider-Man. The only others were Tony, Pepper, and now Bruce.

“Here,” Happy said brusquely, thrusting the gold badge at Peter. “Put it on.”

It had his picture and the words ‘The Kid,’ and was attached to a pink Hello Kitty lanyard. Peter was slightly disappointed, as Chococat had always been his favorite Sanrio character. Happy followed Peter’s twitter (to keep an eye on him, as an assignment from Tony), so he should have known that. But Peter shrugged and put the lanyard around his neck.

“You will wear this at all times when you are not sleeping or in the shower. It is indestructible and, from a security perspective, priceless, though it doesn’t do too much without your biometric confirmation anyway. You lose it, you alert JARVIS immediately. Understand?”

“Yes,” Peter said, moving the badge around so he could see the holographic Stark Industries logo flash across its surface. It was surprisingly thick, likely due to the RFID chip inside, but lightweight. “Is this vibranium?”

“Uh huh, sure is, kid,” Happy said, rolling his eyes as if the kid annoyed him. He’d never admit it, but Peter had grown on him over the past few months of knowing the kid as Spider-Man.

“Thanks, Happy!” Peter smiled. He knew Happy had a thing for his Aunt May, since he’d overheard the man discussing the ‘hot Italian woman’ with Tony. Which had been really disturbing to hear at the time, but it was kind of cute now that he thought about it.

“Yeah, thanks. Now don’t you have somewhere to be?” Tony said.

“Yes. At my desk, where I work, doing my actual job instead of playing errand boy to some kid.”

“Well then why are you still here?”

Happy rolled his eyes at Tony’s playfully biting remark and headed back to the elevator, leaving Peter and Tony alone.

“So, quick question, can I put on some actual clothes?” Peter was wearing a thin hospital gown over his boxers. “Not that this look isn’t super fetch, but it’s a bit airy. And, I mean, if you’re actually going to take me to meet some of the other interns, I’m not exactly sure this is the best first impression.”

Tony sighed. “Give me a sec,” he said, walking towards his bedroom.

The pair were on Tony and Pepper’s personal floor, where Peter had been given one of their guest bedrooms. Pepper had already left for an early morning conference call with their Chinese headquarters. Although the Avengers all had their own rooms on other floors of the penthouse, Tony had mentioned that they were all out on various missions for the week.

Tony returned, and thrust a pair of jeans and a t-shirt into the teenager’s waiting arms. He was also holding a pair of women’s UGG boots. “I don’t think any of my shoes will fit you, but I’m sure Pepper won’t mind if you borrow some of hers. I never realized how many heels she owns, but I’m guessing you’d prefer to stick to flats?”

“Um, Mr. Stark? I don’t really think any of this is going to fit,” Peter said, holding the t-shirt against his small frame. The Black Sabbath shirt was Tony’s, and more than several sizes too large for the teenager.

“I’ll get you a belt. And I’ll ask Happy to order you a wardrobe.” Tony drew up his StarkPad and started to send a message to Happy.

“You don’t need to do that, Mr. Stark. I can’t really afford all new clothes. Can’t you just have him run past Aunt May’s and grab some things for me?”

“No can do, underoos. Too late anyway, message already sent. And do you really think I’d expect you to pay for it? I’m offended. Besides, I can’t have SI’s newest intern walking around in the castoffs you call clothes. Now go get dressed so we can get this show on the road. Pepper only gave me one day off of the boring day job stuff—no meetings and no paperwork for once—and I’m planning on making the best of it.”

After a minute in his bedroom, Peter returned to the living area. The shirt was comically large, the neckline slipping almost down to his shoulder. The pants were cinched tight with a belt, and the cuffs had been rolled over several times so that he wouldn’t trip on them.

Tony grinned at the absurdity of the outfit. “Looking good, kid. Ready to meet some interns?”

“Yes, that would be so totally awesome, Mr. Stark! Oh wait, before we go, what’s my cover story? I mean, do I get to tell them my name? Or anything about myself?”

“No. After this HYDRA mess is over and you’re just a regular intern, you can tell them your name. But you’ll be keeping your… other identity… secret.” Tony lead the kid over to the elevator bank, where his private elevator was already open and waiting. “JARVIS, what floor is the main intern lab on again?”

“Floor 40, boss,” the AI replied as it whisked them down.

When the elevator dinged open on the intern lab floor, nearly every eye in the place turned to look at Tony and Peter. After all, none of the interns had ever seen the private elevator used and, despite him being their boss, most of them had never even met Tony.

“Is that Tony Stark?” “What the hell is he doing down here?” “Are we in trouble?” “Am I in trouble?” “Who’s that boy with him?” “Didn’t TMZ publish an article claiming he had a bunch of illegitimate children?” “Is that one of them?” “Didn’t he sue TMZ over that?” Peter heard the racing whispers of the interns in the lab.

“Ignore them, kid,” Tony said. “Want to go check out some projects?”

“I didn’t realize you had so many interns,” Peter whispered back. There must have been twenty people in the lab—most college-aged, but several older.

“I think we’ve got thirty or so? JARVIS, give the kid a rundown on the internship program.”

“Sure thing, boss.” The ubiquitous AI spoke from the ceiling, and most of the other interns stopped to listen. “Stark Industries accepts high-level candidates who are graduates of major national universities with masters or higher degrees in biology, chemistry, chemical engineering, physics, mechanical engineering, computer science, and mathematics, with additional scientific disciplines being considered on a per-case basis. The internship program is one of the few fully-paid programs in the nation, and lasts approximately four years. We receive over a thousand applications daily and have ten open slots a year.”

“Whoa. So these are smart people.”

“They’d better be, if they work for me.”

“Yeah, no, of course, Mr. Stark. Can you introduce me to some of them? Or tell me about the projects they’re working on?” Peter looked around excitedly. Some of the interns were still eyeing the pair warily, but most had returned to working, even if only to make themselves look busy and productive in front of the company’s owner.

“I don’t actually know any of them,” Tony admitted sheepishly. “I’m not involved much in the internship program, so I don’t know what they’re working on.”

“But you hired me.”

“Yeah, well. Pretty sure you’re also not a college graduate yet either.”

“Then why—”

“Kid, someday you are going to be a college graduate. And you are going to take this world by storm. And I kinda wanted to get my hooks into you before Oscorp or Hammer Industries could snatch you up. And that’s just based on your brain, I’m not even going to get started on your nocturnal extracurriculars. Capisce? Whoa, kid, chill out, you don’t want to cry in front of your new coworkers before you’ve even met them, right?” Peter nodded and took a deep breath. Tony shouted across the room, “Oy, any of you want to give me and the new intern a tour?”

A few hands went up. Tony pointed at four of the interns in order (“you, you, you, and you”), and they all rushed over.

“Well, I’m Tony Stark, but you probably already knew that, and this is the kid. Quick, names and one fun fact about you. Go.”

The interns all blurted out the requested information rapid-fire style. “Um, Phillip Grant. I can cook minute rice in 58 seconds?” “Lee Clayton. I’m the youngest of 14 siblings.” “Sarah Jennings, former paralympic cross-skier.” “Marcy Pearson. I also run the Stark internship program’s official Twitter.”

“Great. Now can you show us around the lab and let us see what you’re working on?”

“Right, so we know who you are, Dr. Stark,” Marcy said, stressing the word doctor, since she knew people usually forgot about Tony’s doctorate when addressing him. “But who are you, um, young man?”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Tony clapped a hand over it. “Don’t answer that, kid. He’s the newest intern. Well, obviously he doesn’t work here yet.”

Marcy chuckled, “Yes, he’s a bit young for that.”

“He starts on Monday,” Tony said, cocking an eyebrow at her as if to challenge her to say something. Marcy, to her credit, kept silent and just nodded.

“So what’s your name?” Lee asked.

“Don’t answer that either, kid,” Tony said.

“I wasn’t going to. Geez, Mr. Stark, I’m not a child.” Peter rolled his eyes and turned to the other interns, smiling hesitantly. “Don’t mind grumpy cat over there,” he said, motioning at Tony with his chin. “You can call me ‘The Kid,’ or just kid, or ‘hey you,’ or ‘nerd.’ I’m not super picky. I hadn’t really been expecting for my name to be classified when I started here, but what can you do?” He shrugged.

“Kid, shut up. Seriously, if you keep talking, eventually you’re going to blab your whole life story anyway, and then where would all these precautions go? JARVIS, take a note to create additional guardrails to make up for the kid’s big mouth.”

“Noted, boss,” the AI said.

“Now, Marcy, was it? I’m counting on you to make sure no pictures of the kid as an intern make it onto social media, and that no mention of a new intern is made on Twitter,” Tony said. She nodded, and he continued. “Now show us what you’ve all been working on.”

After seeing the other interns’ projects (a PR algorithm to stop negative press about SI from Marcy, cleaner firewalls for the internal network from Phillip, and a plant-based energy source from Lee and Sarah), Tony decided to treat the four interns to lunch with Peter and him, and took them down to the cafeteria in his private elevator.

By the end of the day, Peter was on the fast track to becoming friends will all four interns, even though they were much older and more accomplished than him. But the others had discovered that not only was Peter incredibly bright, but he also was able to provide them with help on their projects by asking the right questions or making gentle suggestions, in a way that brought absolutely no ego into the conversation. In short, they all looked forward to working with him more, even though they’d been told he’d probably be assigned to a different lab than the one the interns all worked in.

“That was awesome, but Mr. Stark is starting to make that face where he’s getting tired but doesn’t want anyone to know, so I think we’d better get going,” Peter whispered apologetically to the other interns.

“Why does that mean you have to go?” Lee asked.

“Um, confidential? I’m pretty sure that’s one of the things I’m not at liberty to discuss with you. Which is kind of why Mr. Stark’s following me around today anyway, to make sure I don’t say anything I’m not supposed to. Which is nuts, right? I mean, what if I knew something ridiculously important, like the proven fact that Tony Stark was actually replaced by a lizard person in Afghanistan and, like, the company just never noticed because, well, duh he was a little different when he came back. But maybe like Pepper Potts figured it out, but she’s cool with it because she likes lizard-Tony better? And then—”

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Tony said, having snuck up behind Peter. “No, I am not a lizard person.”

“Prove it, then,” Sarah said.

“You do realize I’m your boss, right?” Tony cocked an eyebrow and looked at the young woman reproachfully. She blanched and swallowed visibly.

Peter playfully smacked Tony in the chest. “Don’t be an ass, Mr. Stark.”

“I’m your boss too, kid. Don’t forget who cuts your checks.”

“Wait, you’re actually going to pay me? I figured you were joking about that. And we better be talking human money and not lizard person money, because I don’t know what the exchange rate is or even where I could get it exchanged. I mean, I realize you pay the other interns because they’re like functioning adults and whatnot, but I’m—”

“Cutting you off there, kid. Interns, it was a pleasure to meet you, you’re the future of my company, keep up the good work, yada yada yada. Say goodbye, kid.”

“I’ll see you guys soon! Monday for sure, but maybe I can swing by before just to say hi?” Peter looked at his new friends hopefully. They smiled back, still weirded out by the entire nameless situation (and by how young the kid seemed), but for the most part he’d already won them over.

Tony put a hand on Peter’s lower back and guided the teenager towards the private elevator. It opened, and began its way up to the penthouse.

“Takeout Chinese and Star Wars?” Tony asked.

“Duh. Skip the prequels?”

“Obviously.”

“You gonna do that old-man thing where you pretend you’re just resting your eyes but you totally end up napping and lying about it?”

“Shut up, brat.”

“Was that a yes? JARVIS, was that a yes?” Peter asked the ceiling before Tony clamped a hand on the teen’s mouth.

“JARVIS, don’t answer that.”

The Babysitters’ Club

“Why are we here?” Natasha Romanov asked. The Black Widow was scratching her initials into the conference room’s wooden table with a switchblade.

“That is mahogany!” Clint Barton shouted at her dramatically. Natasha just rolled her eyes. Of course Hawkeye loved the Hunger Games, being an archer and all.

‘ Screw you, ’ she signed to Clint.

‘ You wish, ’ he signed back, grinning.

“Good morning,” Steve Rogers said as he entered the room. Behind Captain America was Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier.

“Ngh,” Bruce grumbled into his coffee. The scientist was not a morning person, and was ticked off at Tony for calling a 6 A.M. Avengers team meeting.

“We’re just waiting on Thor and Loki, then we can get started,” Pepper Potts strode into the board room, Tony close behind her.

“What’s this about?” Natasha asked.

“Patience, Nat. And seriously? What the hell have you done to my table?” Tony said.

“I was bored,” she said, shrugging.

“Friends,” a booming voice from the hall rang. “Many thanks for waiting on my brother and I. We apologize for taking so long, but the trek from Asgard is long and—”

“Thor apologizes,” Loki sneered as they entered the room. “I do not.”

“Sit,” Pepper commanded in the no-nonsense voice all the Avengers had come to respect and obey without thinking. Once all of them were seated at the conference table, she handed out a dossier to each member, including Tony.

“What’s this?” Natasha said, opening the file. “It’s just a picture of a kid and the words ‘The Kid’ next to it.”

When it had come to picking a code name for Peter, Tony had ultimately offered only two choices: underoos, or ‘The Kid.’ Peter had (unsurprisingly) picked the latter.

“That would be the tower’s newest, and hopefully temporary , resident. His identity is strictly classified, but what you can know is this: HYDRA has targeted him for kidnapping. If they get their hands on him, it would not only result in incredibly painful torture for the kid. Once they’re done with him, they’ll kill him. And what they get out of him as a result of torture could be enough to allow them to rise to power,” Tony said.

“Shit,” Clint said. “He’s just a child. What is he, like, 12?”

“Language,” Steve chastised.

“So what does he know that’s so important?” Natasha asked.

“Is he a spy?” Clint added. “An assassin? HYDRA agent gone rogue? No, wait, he’s a kid. Son of someone important?”

“The child must be an impressive fighter, if the Greek sea serpent has come to fetch him,” Thor said.

“No, not hydra the mythological creature, HYDRA the—Steve, you want to explain?” Tony said.

Steve nodded, thinning his mouth as he looked at the tensed Bucky. “HYDRA is a team of bad guys. Villains. Modern-day Nazis. They have the potential to destroy the world order, and bring nations to their knees.”

“And are they hiring?” Loki asked.

“No,” Tony said. “Loki, you try anything and we are throwing you back in the box, understood? As far as why HYDRA is after the kid, that’s confidential and doesn’t concern you. But I will promise you, as dangerous as the kid is—and, trust me, he is dangerous—he does not currently pose a risk to you.” Tony leaned back in his chair. “Questions?”

“Seriously, Tony, why are we here?” Natasha repeated herself.

“Until we can find the HYDRA agents after the kid, he needs round-the-clock protection. He’s confined to the tower, though he does have access to most of the floors.”

“And how dangerous is this child?” Thor asked.

“Two nights ago, HYDRA sent a team of twenty assassins after the kid,” Bruce said. “He managed to single-handedly take out a good number of them before slipping away. He can fight, but he can also maneuver quickly in the field. He’s also smart—like, smarter than me. Probably smarter than Tony.”

“Wait, seriously?” Steve said, looking at Tony.

“Yep,” the inventor replied. “And probably more physically dangerous than I am, too. We’ve got a preliminary protection detail schedule sent to the calendars on your StarkPhones, but I need you alert.”

At that moment, as all the Avengers (minus Tony and Bruce) were considering how dangerous the kid had to be, Peter strolled into the board room, having gotten lost in the penthouse. He was wearing an oversized ‘I survived New York’ t-shirt and fuzzy pink Hello Kitty pajama pants, no shoes, with a Hello Kitty lanyard and Avengers Tower ID badge around his neck. The badge was gold and bare except for his picture and the words ‘The Kid.’ In Peter’s hands was a half-empty bowl of Lucky Charms, and his mouth was full of marshmallows.

He squeaked at seeing all the Avengers and dropped the bowl. Cereal and milk splashed across the marble floor. For some reason, he raised his hands to cover his nipples, as if that would provide some sort of protection from the team’s penetrating stares. At Tony’s snort, he realized that most of them were staring at the Hello Kitty pajama pants, and dropped his hands to cover his crotch. As if that would somehow make them not notice the ridiculous pattern.

“This is the kid?” Clint asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Whoa, Hawkeye, huge fan,” Peter attempted to say. Of course, his mouth was still full of cereal so it came out more like ‘whu, hukuy, ughe fuhn.’

“Swallow, kid,” Tony sighed.

Peter did. “Sorry, Mr. Stark.”

“Yes, this is the kid. What the heck are you doing down here?”

“I was taking my cereal for a walk, like you do, and then I got lost. So I just decided to keep walking and exploring—you said it was totally cool if I checked the place out—and there was this one really cool hallway with portraits? Like, there were these ridiculous oil paintings of all of the Avengers, and I kept going down the hall and somehow wound up here? Ooh, Dr. Banner, is that coffee? Can I have some?” Peter asked, making grabby hands as Bruce hesitantly handed over his mug.

“Do Earth children frequently take their breakfast meals for a walk?” Thor asked, confused.

“No,” Steve said, looking at Peter. He squinted, puzzled. “Your accent—Queens?”

“Yeah! Oh wait, I mean—frick frack. Mr. Stark, was that supposed to be confidential? Did I screw up already? Hey, have you ever seen this really old movie ‘Men in Black’? Do you have something like a memory eraser where we can just pretend I never said that?”

“Just… try to think before opening your mouth next time?” Tony rubbed his head, trying to stave off the impending migraine. Maybe he should have assigned S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to guard Peter; at least they never asked questions.

“Sorry Mr. Stark. But Mr. Captain Rogers, sir, yeah!”

“Brooklyn, kid. Always nice to meet a fellow real New Yorker.” Peter nearly swooned.

“Hey kid. You want to get out of here and let the grownups finish talking? Go put on some clothes; I had Happy pick up a full wardrobe for you. It should already be in the closet in your room.” Tony made a shooing motion at Peter.

“Yeah, okay. Bye, Avengers. It was awesome meeting you. Oh my glob I can’t believe I met the Avengers. I’m super excited to hang out with you this week while S.H.I.E.L.D. hunts down those HYDRA dudes.” Peter gave an awkward wave and stepped over to the shattered cereal bowl near the door. Looking at his hands and at the ceramic shards, he just kept backing out of the room. “I’m gonna leave that for someone who doesn’t have human hands. Or, you know, has a broom or mop or something. Actually, I’m just gonna shut up now.” Peter fled the board room.

“I accept mission to protect asset ‘The Kid.’” Bucky spoke for the first time the entire meeting, his slight remaining Russian accent acidic in the air. “I will protect his life with my own.”

“Agreed, my hirsute assassin friend,” Thor said, beaming at Bucky. “And this child is indeed quite dangerous. Look how well he was able to disarm us using only his words. Quite cunning.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s go with that,” Tony said, sighing. “Now, I’ve been up with the kid for most of the past 24 hours, and contrary to popular belief I do need to sleep sometimes. Hey Pepper, who’s up first?”

“Bruce. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an actual meeting with some overseas investors.” The powerful Stark Industries CEO strode out of the room, beige pumps clicking across the marble.

“Awesome,” Bruce said, thumping his forehead on the table. “And the kid finished my coffee.”

Bruce Banner, Science Bro

“So, kid,” Bruce said as they awkwardly met up in the kitchen. “What’s the plan?”

Peter was busy texting on the encrypted StarkPhone Tony had provided him with and didn’t hear.

[TheKid]
Hey, guy in the chair, this is a temporary number while I’m under house arrest at an undisclosed location :(((
Oh and don’t use my real name, I’m kind of undercover?
You can call me kid, Tony’s idea

[ChairGuy]
Tony? As in Tony Stark, Iron Man? AHHHHHHHWHAT
Have you met any of the other Avengers?
Wait, how do I know this is really you and not some evil dude pretending to be you?

[TheKid]
Um
You watch the Star Wars Holiday Special every year at Christmas and you cry when Chewie is reunited with his family

[ChairGuy]
Holy crap it is you
And I thought we agreed to never speak of that
Wait, house arrest?

[TheKid]
Long story
Don’t know when I’ll get out of here
I’ve got an excuse lined up for school, but can you take notes for me?

[ChairGuy]
Duh

[TheKid]
That’s why you’re my number 1 guy in the chair
Crud I gotta go, Dr. Banner (AHHHHH) is trying to talk to me

[ChairGuy]
AHHHHHHHHHHHH XD XD XD

“Kid?” Bruce repeated.

“Sorry, Dr. Banner. I was just making sure Ne—um, my guy-in-the-chair knew where I was.”

“What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Ooh, can you take me on a tour of the building? I wandered around the penthouse a bit when Mr. Stark took a short nap—I don’t really need to sleep much since the… you know.” Peter looked around before miming shooting webs from his wrists, complete with whooshing sounds from his mouth. “I crash hardcore maybe once a week, but otherwise only need an hour or two a night. So I was wandering around. But I didn’t really get to see much because I kept getting lost. Tony showed me the intern labs and cafeteria, but not much else.”

“I’ll be honest, kid, I don’t really get out much. Just up here, and my lab, and sometimes the coffee cart in the lobby.”

“Perfect! I could totally use some coffee. And would it be cool if I saw your lab? I promise not to touch anything. Heck, last time I touched something in a geneticist’s lab, well.” He mimed the web shooters again. “Definitely not going to make that mistake again.”

Bruce sighed. It was true that he could use some caffeine as well, since it was seven in the morning, he wasn’t a morning person, and someone (the kid) had stolen his coffee earlier. Besides, he did have work to do in the lab anyway.

“Fine.”

“Awesome. Oh this is so awesome. I am the awesomest.” Peter pumped his fist as they headed towards the private elevators. “Do they have food too? I’m starving.”

“Didn’t you just eat breakfast?”

Peter shrugged. “Metabolism. I usually need to pack in thirty or forty thousand calories a day. More if I’m doing the, you know.” Peter began to move his hands to mime the web shooters again when Bruce made a motion to stop.

“I think I get it, kid.”

“Cool. Cool cool cool. So, food?”

“Yeah, fine.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened onto a mezzanine floor in the multi-story lobby. While they waited in line, Peter bounced on his heels, looking around. There were many conversations going on, with scientists and business people alike arriving for work, going through the scanners, and grabbing coffee as well.

“Hey, Dr. Banner, can I ask you a question?” Peter didn’t wait for a response. “What does the badge mean? Like, yours is different than mine? What does the silver stand for? And why do you get a title of ‘Geneticist’ while I don’t get a title? But oh boy you look rough in that picture. Where did they get it from? I think they pulled mine from the State Department, since it looks like it’s my passport photo.”

“Silver means I have nearly unlimited access to the tower and labs. The picture… I think it was after some kind of fight right after I’d shifted back from the green guy, and I was really out of it. Tony took the picture to be a dick, which is also probably why it’s my ID photo.”

“Then why’s mine gold? And why don’t I get a title?”

“Kid, what the heck would your title even be? You don’t even get a real name. And gold means… huh, I hadn’t noticed. What the hell was Tony thinking?” Bruce mumbled to himself. “Gold is all-access. Only Tony has that clearance. Or had, I guess. Not like you’d know, since he appears to be the only person allowed to walk around the higher floors without a badge around his neck.”

“Oh.” Peter looked down at his badge. “Huh. I don’t know, I just guess I wished it said intern or something like all the other interns I met yesterday. But maybe Mr. Stark’s still working on my official title or something?” He squinted down at his badge on its Hello Kitty lanyard and shrugged.

Peter opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Bruce was saved by them reaching the front of the line. The geneticist ordered a double red-eye, while Peter went for the largest iced caramel latte they had with five extra pumps of sugar and three shots of espresso, as well as three muffins, two bananas, and a chocolate chip cookie. Bruce shuddered to think of what the kid would be like hopped up on that much caffeine and sugar. After swiping his badge to pay for the order (which would be charged to Tony’s account as long as Bruce was the Avenger on protection duty), Bruce lead Peter to the regular elevators and, swiping his badge again, pressed the button for the 87th floor.

The elevator was packed, and the employees kept stealing looks at Peter, trying to figure out why there was a kid in there with them. By the time the elevator reached the 87th floor, it was empty other than the pair of heroes. Bruce lead Peter down a long hallway, stopping at a glass-walled lab.

“Home sweet home,” he sighed, shrugging off his cardigan and replacing it with a worn lab coat.

“Whoa,” Peter said, setting the bag of food down on the counter in the kitchenette and looking around in awe. “So this is where the magic happens? Too cool. Hey, is that giant thing a centrifuge? Flipping awesome, what’s the capacity of it? Oh wait, is that a giant vacuum chamber? What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever put in there? And what happened?”

Peter looked expectantly at Bruce, as if he expected the man to actually answer all those questions.

“Um, what? Listen, kid, I actually need to—”

“Can I help?” Peter grabbed one of the muffins and shoved the entire thing in his mouth, smiling around the crumbs. “I’m really good with chemistry.” Of course, his mouth was full, so it sounded more like ‘Ihng illy guuh wih chengstry.’

“Swallow, kid. Yeah, I guess so?” Bruce closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten. He wasn’t angry, and there wasn’t a chance of the green guy showing up, but he definitely was overwhelmed by the energetic teenager.

Peter swallowed and took a large drink of his iced latte, slurping through the straw. “Sorry, Dr. Banner. What are you working on?”

Bruce waited a second, expecting the teenager to follow up with thirty more questions that he couldn’t keep track of, but it seemed like Peter actually wanted a response this time.

“Using a combination of Vita-rays and gamma radiation on silicon-carbide vibranium alloys injected into the bloodstream, and seeing how they react once they reach the brain and we generate an electrical pulse on the amygdala.”

“Neat. So it’s building off of your, um, own transformation? Are you figuring that the alloys will adhere themselves to neurostem cells and that the electric pulse will vibrate them? Are you trying to figure out the vibration frequency? You know, this could totally be used to reduce migraines that are neurologically based. Oh wait no, you could use it to mitigate electric pulses caused by potential epileptic seizures and stop them before they happen! That is so cool.”

Bruce was stunned. He’d thought of the treatment for migraines, but he hadn’t considered the application to seizures. This kid was too smart.

“Yeah.”

“So how can I help?”

Over several hours, Peter helped Bruce with his research, preparing samples and slides. Around noon they ordered lunch to be delivered to the lab—four large pizzas (three Hawaiian, which Peter demolished all by himself). By five, Bruce was exhausted by all of the questions Peter had, but also impressed. The teen had been a great help in the lab, including coming up with unique solutions for several issues Bruce hadn’t been able to overcome yet.

“Alright, kid. Quitting time.”

“Already?”

“We’ve been here for ten hours, and I’m tired. Yes, already. Come on, let’s go.” Bruce shrugged off his lab coat and the pair headed for the elevators, going back up to the Avengers’ penthouse. Since Peter was going to remain in the penthouse for the rest of the night, he wouldn’t require a dedicated Avenger protector, but would instead be looked after by JARVIS and by Tony himself.

The Murder Twins Are Not Actually Twins

"Hey JARVIS, who’s babysitting today?” Peter asked the ceiling as he poured a third bowl of cereal. The previous two bowls he’d eaten while strolling around the penthouse, trying to figure out where JARVIS had cameras planted.

“Ms. Romanov and Mr. Barton are sharing protection detail,” the AI said.

“Neat.” Peter sat at the table and whipped out his StarkPhone to send a text to Ned, who was probably in homeroom at the moment.

[TheKid]
What’s up? Miss you and MJ
I’m already going stir crazy up in here

[ChairGuy]
Dude
Duuuuuuuuude
How long are you going to be there
You’re going to miss the field trip they just announced
Because we won the decathlon thing they’re taking the team
Duuuuude

[TheKid]
When?

[ChairGuy]
Firday
*Friday
And it’s going to be totally sweet XD

[TheKid]
Ugh, spare me the details, I don’t want to know what I’m missing
Blargggh :’(((

[ChairGuy]
Copy that
Sorry kid

Peter’s spidey-sense alerted him to rustling in the vents above him, and he took a large step to the right before Clint dropped down, having intended to tackle the kid to the ground.

“Are you trying to get me to break all of the bowls in this place?” Peter cocked an eyebrow at the archer.

“More like he’s trying to figure out how dangerous you are. Good reflexes, kid.” Natasha walked into the kitchen.

“Whoa, um, thanks Miss Black Widow sir. I mean ma’am.” Peter shoveled another spoonful of Lucky Charms into his mouth. “Please don’t kill me,” he said. Of course, with his mouth full, it sounded more like ‘hlee dunt kih ne.’

“Swallow, kid,” Clint said, smirking. “Can’t read your lips when your mouth’s full.”

Peter did. “Sorry, Mr. Hawkeye, sir.”

‘ Did the kid seriously just ask us not to kill him? ’ Natasha signed.

Clint sighed. “We’re not going to kill you, kid. First, it’d seriously piss Tony off. Not worth it. And second, we generally don’t go around killing kids. We’re Avengers, numbskull.”

“Oh. If you’re not going to kill me, then can you teach me sign language?”

“что не так с этим ребенком?” [ What is wrong with this kid? ] Natasha asked Clint.

Clint shrugged. Peter gaped, impressed that Clint was able to read lips in Russian as well. While the Deaf Avenger’s hearing aids let him pick up most sounds, he still relied on lips and context to some extent.

“Whoa, can you teach me Russian too? That is so cool. How many other languages do the two of you know? And did you know that some people call you the Murder Twins? And there’s an online conspiracy that you two are actually twins, separated at birth, who were contracted to kill each other, but then realized you were related and went rogue? But there’s also a conspiracy that you’re together—like, together together. And some people also think you are twins but also together, but that’s gross and totally not true, right?”

Natasha ignored that question. “You any good at languages?”

Turns out Peter was a natural at languages, a side effect of his increased sensory abilities. Within a few hours, he had basics down in both Russian and sign language.

‘ Can we get lunch? Anything but pizza, ’ Peter signed.

‘ Sure, ’ Clint signed back. ‘ Burgers? ’

Peter nodded happily. After watching the teen choke down four hamburgers, two orders of fries, and a large chocolate milkshake, trying to talk with his mouth full almost the entire time, Clint and Natasha decided to take Peter to the Avengers’ training room two floors down.

“You got any athletic clothing you can put on before we head down to the gym?” Clint asked.

The first thing to flash through Peter’s mind was the Spider-Man suit. Then he remembered that the suit was destroyed. And then he remembered that the Avengers didn’t know he was Spider-Man anyway.

“I don’t think so? Happy is the one who got me clothes, and they’re pretty much what Mr. Stark wears just in smaller sizes.” Peter gestured unhappily at the dark dad jeans and AC/DC shirt he was wearing. The closet was full of nothing but old band shirts and flashy three-piece suits.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Happy Hogan wouldn’t know what to do with a kid if it bit him in the ass.” She looked at the teen, considering. “I think I have some yoga pants that would fit you. Come on.”

When Peter came out of his room wearing the yoga pants, Clint couldn’t stop himself from snorting. Even Natasha was fighting a smile. The pants were incredibly tight, showcasing Peter’s powerful thighs and calves. The fabric was a shiny metallic rainbow, with the words ‘I put the ASS in ASSASSIN’ printed across the butt. Clint had gotten them for her as a joke, and they’d never been worn. Until now

“Whatever, you know I look good.” Peter turned and sashayed towards the elevator, not checking to see whether the assassins were following him.

They were, of course, and the three of them quickly found themselves in a large gymnasium. Obstacle courses littered the room, racks of weights to one side, a running track around the edges, and a large mat for sparring in the middle.

“This is too awesome,” Peter said, looking around. The fluorescent lights were a little too bright, and he could hear their humming in the back of his skull, but he was too excited to really care. “Oh my glob, I need to take a selfie to send to Ne—um, my friend. Oh wait, I’m supposed to be in hiding undercover. Craptastic. Can I take a picture of you two?”

“How about I take a picture of you and Nat from behind, with your heads cut off? You can still send it to your friend, but there won’t be any identifying information. Sound good?”

“Heck yes! Mr. Hawkeye, you are the greatest!”

Peter and Natasha went to stand in front of one of the obstacles as Clint counted down: 3, 2, 1. The StarkPhone’s camera went off.

“Let me see,” Peter said, dashing toward the archer and grabbing the phone from his hands.

His face fell, and Clint started laughing, bending over and clutching his stomach. Peter had forgotten about the pants. But neither Clint nor Natasha had forgotten, obviously. Peter hadn’t noticed that, while Clint was counting down, Natasha had turned around to face the camera, crouched down, and pointed a finger at Peter’s butt while frowning. Natasha pulled the phone out of the teenager’s hand to see the picture and cracked her first real smile of the day.

“Looking good, kid,” she said.

“The two of you are such jerks,” Peter pouted, grabbing back the phone. “Whatever, I’m still going to send it to him.”

[TheKid]
Hanging out with the Black Widow today WHAAAAAAT XD XD

[ChairGuy]
Ugh is she taking a picture with your butt?
I wish she was taking a picture with my butt :’((((

[TheKid]
WTF dude you’re so weird

[ChairGuy]
Hey before I forget there’s a quiz next week in Spanish if you’re back by then
And watch out, Flash has been a complete jerk about you being MIA
I kinda let it slip that you’d been given a Stark internship a few days ago
Sorry bro. I know it wasn’t confidential info or anything but I should have asked first
But he’s going around telling everyone you’re lying about it for attention

[TheKid]
And people are listening? :(

[ChairGuy]
Naw, MJ and I are laying the smack down. We got your back, fam

[TheKid]
You complete me

Peter stopped smiling at his phone to see Natasha and Clint looking at him strangely. He blushed and put the phone on a nearby bench.

“So what’s the plan? Can I see you guys fight?” Peter asked eagerly.

“Only if you earn it,” Natasha said. She unexpectedly threw a roundhouse kick, aimed straight at Peter’s head.

He let out a high-pitched shriek, but caught her ankle before it could connect with his face. His grip was strong enough to completely stop her momentum. She stood there, impressed, balanced on one foot, her other leg still raised high in the air.

“Whoa,” Clint said.

“I mean, what? I didn’t, um—why exactly did you—I thought we were friends. I was gonna call us “the murder triplets” and everything. Oh no, are you guys working for HYDRA? Oh no oh no oh no this is bad this is so bad. I need to call Mr. Stark. JARVIS,” Peter shouted towards the ceiling before Natasha clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Ignore the kid, JARVIS. Just a minor misunderstanding,” she shouted, looking at Peter with a glare. “I was just checking your reflexes, but damn. You got some muscles under there, don’t you. Where’d you get those?”

“That information is confidential,” JARVIS alerted from the ceiling.

“What?” Peter looked up at the ceiling in confusion, as if that’s where the AI lived.

“After the Queens debacle, boss asked me to interrupt any line of questioning that could potentially reveal personal information about the kid.”

“Wait, JARVIS,” Natasha said. “Do you know who the kid is?”

“Yes.”

“And do you—”

“I am not going to answer any more of your questions, Ms. Romanov. Kid, if you need any assistance, I will answer you. Clint—I haven’t decided yet.”

“Gee, thanks,” Clint said, rolling his eyes.

“So, now can I watch you two spar?” Peter asked hopefully.

After a short fight between the two assassins (Natasha winning two out of three rounds), the trio moved to the obstacle courses. For thirty minutes, they jumped around, spun, and rolled, with Peter yelling “Parkour” every time he did a cool-looking move. By the end of the half-hour, both Natasha and Clint were covered in sweat and breathing heavily, though Peter was still fresh-faced.

“Call it a day?” he asked, taking note of their tired appearances.

“Yeah, I think Tony’s expecting you in the penthouse for dinner anyway,” Clint said. “Not like you care since there’s no way you can be hungry after that lun—”

“Sweet, I’m starving. Let’s go.”

Super Soldier with a Side of Steve

Peter moved the twelfth pancake onto the plate and turned off the stove. He’d learned early on how to make several staple foods, as Aunt May couldn’t even make a bowl of cereal without somehow burning it. He grabbed maple syrup from the fridge and walked towards the table, surprised to see Captain America and the Winter Soldier already waiting for him.

“Hey, kid,” Steve said, his deep voice rumbling through his chest in a patriotic way. “That’s mighty kind of you, but you didn’t need to make us breakfast.”

“Oh hey Mr. Captain America, sir. Sorry, did you want me to make you some too? I already turned off the stove but it wouldn’t take too long—”

Bucky waved his hand to silence the kid. Peter dropped the plate on the table (luckily, it didn’t break, and all the pancakes stayed on) as he took in Bucky’s metal arm.

“Whoa, can I—” Peter hovered his hands over the forearm, asking for permission to touch. Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“It’s nothing personal,” Steve said. “Bucky doesn’t allow anyone to—”

“Yes,” Bucky interrupted. “You may touch.”

As a flabbergasted Steve looked at his long-time friend, Peter eagerly laid a tentative finger on the metal arm.

“Can you feel that? How much feeling does the arm have? Does it hurt? Can it hurt?” Peter grabbed Bucky’s wrist to turn the arm over. “What’s the range of motion like? Can you feel a difference in motion between your arms? Were you right handed or left handed before you lost your bio-arm? Who made the arm? It’s super cool.” Peter looked up at Bucky, whose eyes were wide. The Winter Soldier looked overwhelmed; usually people ignored him or avoided him out of fear, but this kid was willingly touching him—not even Steve went that far.

“My first arm was made by HYDRA when I… worked for them. This arm is made by Stark after he… destroyed the other one.”

“Neat,” Peter said blankly, rotating the arm to test the shoulder joint. “Hey, do you want to go down to a lab and see if I can increase your radial range?”

Bucky looked at Steve in a panic.

“That sounds like a great idea, kid,” Steve said. That would solve two problems he had—one, he needed to sneak off to his side gig creating school PSAs that he didn’t want any of the Avengers to know about. And two—he’d never seen Bucky as comfortable with another person as he was with the kid. It would be a good experience for Bucky to spend time one-on-one with someone who wasn’t Steve.

“Awesome. Mr. Winter Soldier sir, I bet Dr. Banner would let us use his lab. You want to come with me?”

Peter looked at Bucky with wide doe eyes and the super soldier found himself nodding and following Peter without even realizing it until they were alone outside of the elevator. Peter was holding the plate of pancakes, eating as he walked.

“Кто этот ребенок?” [ Who is this kid? ] Bucky asked himself.

“That information is confidential,” JARVIS alerted from the ceiling.

“Игнорировать JARVIS,” [ Ignore JARVIS, ] Peter said in poorly accented Russian. “Apparently no one can ask potentially revealing questions.”

“ты говоришь по-русски?” [ You speak Russian? ]

“Not really,” Peter said as JARVIS opened the elevator for them. “Natash—I mean, the Black Widow taught me a bit yesterday. I’m okay at the words but my pronunciation is bad. There are all these shapes I can’t make with my mouth, so the sounds don’t sound right, if that makes sense.”

“Needing practice,” Bucky grunted as Peter pressed the button for the 87th floor.

Peter shoveled a syrupy mess of pancake into his mouth. “How long did it take you to learn?” he asked. Except, as always, his mouth was full, so it sounded more like ‘ow ong id id ake ooh do luhn?’

Bucky arched an eyebrow at the teenager. “I do not remember. I was not… present for it.”

“Oh. Your past is pretty messed up, isn’t it.”

“That... is one way to put it.”

“That’s fine. I won’t push you to tell me anything. Obviously I can’t tell you about my past or JARVIS will yell at me, and that’s not cool. But if you want to tell me about yours that’s totally fine! I’m an awesome listener. And I’m really good at keeping secrets, too. Like, this one time Ne—um, my friend and I were at Coney Island, and he spilled a banana slushie all over his lap because the ferris wheel started rocking, and then it kind of looked like he peed himself, and then a five-year-old girl made fun of him for it? Never told anyone.”

“Clearly. He is lucky to have friend in you.”

“Thanks,” Peter grinned, not picking up on Bucky’s sarcasm.

The elevator opened onto the 87th floor and Peter made his way to Bruce’s lab.

“Hey Dr. Banner, is it cool if Bucky and I tinker around in here?”

“Yeah, sure, but you know Tony built you your own lab already, right? On the 85th floor.”

“What! Why didn’t he tell me? Wait,” Peter said, pulling out his cellphone and seeing two missed texts, which he quickly responded to.

[IronMan]
You have a lab now
85th floor
Password underoos

[TheKid]
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA XD XD XD

The other text was from Ned.

[ChairGuy]
News flash: Flash is still a jerk
History sub today, so we’re watching Jurassic Park for some reason?
Miss you

[TheKid]
Miss you too
Tho I’m gonna do science today
In my own lab WHAAAAAAT

Peter slipped the phone back into the pocket of his jeans and reached out to grab Bucky’s wrist.

Bruce noticed the motion and shouted. “Hey kid, don’t do th—”

The teen’s hand made contact with Bucky’s, and nothing happened. Bruce’s eyes boggled; the last time he’d even accidentally touched the Winter Soldier he’d wound up with two bruised ribs. Not even Steve touched the super soldier. And now Bucky was just letting the kid grab him as if it were nothing new?

“Nevermind,” Bruce mumbled. “Have fun in your lab.”

JARVIS had held the elevator open for them, so the pair quickly made their way down two floors. The elevator opened to the 85th floor, but there was nothing besides a small room with a single door. On the door was a small nameplate—The Kid. There was no handle, but beside the door was a card swiper, fingerprint scanner, and retina scanner.

Raising an impressed eyebrow at Bucky, Peter swiped his gold ID card. A blue light appeared, glowing around the fingerprint scanner, so Peter assumed that was the next step. After his thumbprint was accepted, the retina scanner engaged, which Peter also passed. He had no idea how Tony had gotten ahold of his fingerprints or a detailed scan of his eye, but it was pretty cool.

“Password,” a female-voiced AI spoke.

“Holy cannoli, Karen? Hey, I missed you!”

“Same, Kid. But I still can’t let you in without the password.”

“Um, underoos?” Peter said tentatively.

“Welcome, Kid.” A red and blue patterned light shone around the edges of the door, which slid soundlessly into the wall.

Dazzled, Peter and Bucky walked into the lab. Unlike Bruce’s, there were no dividing walls. On the far wall were a few more doors with their own card and fingerprint scanners. Peter tried to open them as well, but was blocked when the password ‘underoos’ wouldn’t work on them. He shrugged and continued to explore. In addition to two bathrooms and a shower room, there was a small corner gym, an entire kitchen with a stocked fridge, and a plush seating area with a giant TV. Peter could see a couple gaming consoles, including the next StarkGamer, which wasn’t supposed to come out for another year.

But the coolest parts were the lab stations. It looked like there was one based on each Avenger, and one for Spider-Man too. Each station had pieces of the Avenger’s armor or weapons, schematics, and materials to work on them.

“He wants you to make us better,” Bucky said in awe, looking around and quickly realizing what the lab was set up for. “Stark built this for you, for us.”

The super soldier turned to look at Peter, only to notice that the teenager was no longer next to him. Looking around in a panic, he finally found the kid curled up on the couch, fat tears dripping down his face.

“Why?” Peter asked flatly. “Why would Mr. Stark do this for me? He barely knows me. I’m not worth it.”

“You are wrong, kid,” Bucky said, sitting close to Peter. He hesitantly put an arm around the kid’s shoulders. Peter leaned in to the larger man. “Stark is smart. You should trust him if he thinks you’re worth it. I think you’re worth it.”

Bucky’s uncomfortably affectionate speech was interrupted by a faint snore coming from Peter. Apparently the kid had become so overwhelmed that he fell asleep. Not wanting to wake Peter by moving his arm, Bucky sat there, stock still, for the next five hours. At which point Tony stopped by to see why Peter wasn’t in the penthouse for dinner, and woke the teen up to lead him to bed (after snapping a few incriminating photos first, of course).

The Gods Must Be Crazy

“Aha, child, you are already risen. This is good,” Thor’s voice boomed across the gym.

Peter was walking laps around the track, nibbling on a PopTart. Cherry, with sprinkles. He popped the last bit into his mouth and waved at the large god before heading in his direction. As he walked, he withdrew another PopTart from his hoodie pocket—chocolate marshmallow.

“Mr. Thor, your highness, wow,” Peter tried to say, though his mouth was full. As always. Because he always forgot to swallow before talking. Which meant it sounded more like ‘idr hor, ur ihgnith, awh.’

“My young friend.” Thor swatted Peter on the back playfully, but the pure force of the large god’s movement caused Peter to stumble forward and spit out his PopTart. Spit it out all over Loki, who’d just walked up to the pair.

“Really,” the greasy god intoned. “I thought your pet would be housetrained.”

“Whoa,” Peter said. “Nice burn.”

“Indeed.”

“Who is burnt?” Thor asked, puzzled.

“It’s just a sa—” Peter paused, looking at Loki slowly shaking his head. “What?”

“We try not to introduce too much Earth slang into his vocabulary. It’s funnier that way.”

“Oh, mood.”

“Indeed,” Loki agreed. He brought his nose down towards the crumbs splattered across his black leather doublet. “What is this wretched pastry?”

“PopTart,” Peter said, shrugging.

“No. We’re getting brunch, like civilized people. There’s a passable restaurant on the third floor.”

Despite Loki’s pestering, Peter decided not to change into one of the three-piece suits Happy had gotten for him. Instead, he wore the same dark jeans and navy hoodie (hiding a signed Kiss t-shirt, which why the heck would they give him, it was probably worth several hundred dollars) that he’d put on that morning. They took the private Avengers elevator to the third floor, and were given a table immediately when the maître d’ noticed Thor. Peter and Loki weren’t recognized; Peter didn’t mind, but Loki seemed a bit miffed. A waiter hurried over.

“We’ll have three pints, barman,” Thor boomed.

The waiter looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “I’m going to need to see some ID from the child.”

“Do you not know who this is? Why, it is the child of Tony Stark. He does not require identification to drink heartily in the abode of his father.”

“Sure,” the waiter said doubtfully before heading away.

“Um, Mr. Stark’s not my dad,” Peter said to the god.

Thor tilted his head in confusion before letting out another sunny smile and roaring laugh. “So you are not fruit of his loins, but that does not make you any less his son, does it, Loki? My brother was also adopted, but we are no less family because of it.”

“Oh really,” Loki said wryly.

“There is much brotherly love, it is true. Why, he hasn’t even tried to stab me in several weeks worth of time.”

“That’s not a great measure for love, Mr. Thor.” Peter looked taken aback, slightly glad he’d never had siblings. “And I’m not adopted either.”

“Then where are your parents, child?” Thor questioned, looking around.

“You do not have clearance to ask the kid that question,” JARVIS said loudly over the restaurant’s loudspeaker. Peter blushed and slunk down in his seat, hoping no one knew the AI was talking about him. A few patrons kept looking for the voice’s source, but the others were used to the eccentricities that followed eating in the Avengers Tower.

“Ah, building, I apologize for asking questions the kid cannot answer.”

“No, it’s okay,” Peter said, slightly saddened. Most of the time he did okay, knowing his parents and Uncle Ben were dead, because at least he still had Aunt May. But having been in the tower for several days without being able to see her was starting to take its toll on him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the waiter, returning with two large beers and a glass of ice water, which the man put in front of Peter. He opened his pad and took out a pen, looking expectantly at Loki.

“Lox.”

“Very good. And for you, sir?” he said, turning to Thor.

“Ah yes, steak, rare. And the ribs. And whatever this eggs benedict is. And French toast.”

The waiter didn’t seem thrown off by the amount of food Thor was ordering. Based on their familiarity, Peter guessed the gods had eaten here before. The older man turned to Peter and raised an eyebrow, waiting on his order.

“That sounds good, I’ll have the same.”

“The French toast?”

“All of it. And a side of bacon, please.”

The waiter hesitated, before writing down the order and heading away. Loki waited until Peter had taken a large mouthful of water before speaking again.

“So if you do not call Stark dad, perhaps you call him… Daddy?”

Peter spit the mouthful of water out, soaking Thor, as JARVIS chimed in, “You do not have clearance to ask the kid that question.”

“Shut up, JARVIS,” Peter screeched at the ceiling, drawing stares from the other patrons. “Tell Tony to stuff it, I’m definitely not leaving that question unanswered.”

“I do not understand,” Thor said. “How would calling the Man of Iron ‘daddy’ be any different?”

Loki was cackling madly, increasing in volume with every shade darker Peter’s blush turned.

“No, you flipping lunatic—Mr. Loki, stop laughing, you’re not as funny as you think you are. I definitely don’t call Mr. Stark that . Oh go to heck, what the fudge nuggets! Ew, that’s just—gross.”

“Wow, kid, I hadn’t figured you for a homophobe,” Loki said, trying—and failing—to stop laughing.

“I’m not—that’s not fair and you know it. Plus, it’d be pretty hypocritical if I were against other people being gay, since—”

“You do not have clearance to divulge personal information about the kid,” JARVIS piped up.

“I am the kid, you freaking omniscient bobblehead!” Peter yelled at the ceiling.

“I do not know what has caused you to become angered,” Thor said, putting a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder as the god finished wiping the spit water from his face. “But you must understand, Loki is a youngest brother. He had me to pull pranks on as children—remember that time where you pretended to be a snake and then stabbed me?—but he was never given the chance to embarrass a younger sibling. It is quite heartwarming to watch.”

“Way to ruin the mood, Thor,” Loki groaned. “Now that he knows I was just teasing he won’t be as easy to humiliate.”

“You’re not going to stab me, though, right?” Peter asked, looking at the pale man suspiciously, and wondering whether he needed to hide the butter knives.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Because it hurts. Or, I mean, I’d assume it hurts. Not like I’ve ever been stabbed or anything. Just seen it in movies. It looks painful.”

“It is, my child friend,” Thor said. “Besides, Loki has only stabbed me, his older brother, so I am fairly confident he won’t stab his new younger brother as well.”

The food came, and it was an enormous amount. Loki ate his single meal daintily, as Thor dug in with unbridled (and slightly disgusting) zest. Peter used his best table manners—after all, this was the sort of restaurant with actual cloth napkins, way too fancy for what he was used to, and he didn’t want to embarrass Tony in any way. But as Thor was winding down eating, stuck on his last few sticks of French toast, Peter was finishing his bacon.

“Do you mind if I…? Thanks,” Peter said, snagging one of the pieces of French toast from Thor’s plate. “This is awesome,” he said as his stuck it in his mouth. Which, of course, sounded like ‘idth ith ahthun.’

“Swallow, kid,” Loki interjected. Peter’s habit of talking with his mouth full was simultaneously disgusting and endearing, and the god didn’t know how to handle it.

“Sorry, Mr. Loki, sir.”

Loki waved a hand dismissively at the teenager. “What are we supposed to do with you for the rest of the day? It’s not like we can ask you any actual questions, or go outside, or get into any actual trouble.”

“I don’t know, to be honest. I’m kind of running out of things to do. At first it was really cool being at the Avengers Tower, because, duh. Meeting all of you, and getting to see the labs? It’s like a nerd’s dream come true. But I miss my Aun—my roommate, and my friends. And being Spi—um, being able to spend time outside, and by myself. And unless I’m in the penthouse, I can’t even go to the bathroom without one of you guys coming too. It’s like being in jail.”

“Well, not quite,” Loki muttered.

“Can you still speak with your roommate and friends? Do they have access to a cellular telephone or the electronic mail?” Thor asked.

“I text my friend, but my roommate…” Peter sighed. The only reason he’d been able to text Ned is because the other boy was as big a nerd as he was, and had double-encrypted his own StarkPhone with tri-VPN-loopback, making it almost as secure as the StarkPhone Peter had.

“Then let us text your friend, young brother,” Thor beamed. “Then you will show us the labs you have discovered.”

When the waiter came back to clear their plates, he was roped into taking a picture of the three of them—Peter was standing so his head could be cropped out of the picture, Thor was giving a big thumbs up and holding a piece of paper that said ‘hi guy in the chair,’ and Loki was dabbing.

[TheKid]
Still miss you guys
But check out these actual gods XDDD
Thor says hello
Loki wants me to tell you he also says hello but that he’s better than Thor

[ChairGuy]
AHHHHHHHHH
Didn’t you use to have the biggest crush on Thor, like with a poster over your bed and everything?
Are you freaking out? Did you try to kiss him?

[TheKid]
Bruhhhhh
They are deadass sitting right next to me and reading over my shoulder
You are dead to me

[ChairGuy]
Bruhhhhh :,((((

“You didn’t see anything,” Peter said, shutting his screen off. “But if anyone asks, Mr. Stark is my favorite Avenger and always has been.”

“Wow, guess I don’t have to keep trying so hard to embarrass you, if you’re able to do it so effortlessly on your own,” Loki said.

“I don’t get it?” Thor said.

“Good,” Peter said, standing up. “Did you guys still want to check out my lab? Ooh, can we stop at the coffee cart on the way first? Their muffins are ridiculous.”

Family Movie Night

Around 3 p.m., Thor and Loki burst out of the Avengers’ elevator into the common room, dragging a pale and groaning Peter between them. Tony was in the middle of a phone call, drinking coffee at the kitchen counter, when he saw them.

“What the hell did you two do to my kid?” he yelled, darting forward to help them move Peter to the couch.

Both Loki and Thor spoke at the same time. “Why do you assume we did something?” “Is our young brother going to be okay?”

“Just too loud, too bright,” Peter slurred. “Mr. Stark, can you turn off the lights?”

The lights weren’t on; the large windows in the penthouse provided enough sunlight during day hours. But Peter’s enhanced senses came with a downside—occasional sensory overload, where even the smallest noises or dimmest lights could be painful.

“Help me get him to his room,” Tony whisper-shouted at the two gods. “And keep your voices down.”

The three of them quickly went up to Tony’s personal floor of the penthouse and laid Peter down on the teen’s bed.

“Karen, activate ‘I wear my sunglasses at night’ protocol,” Tony whispered into the room.

Immediately the windows dimmed black, the room became silent except for very soft white noise, and a slight scent of lavender wafted through the air vents. Tony went into the teen’s desk drawer and pulled out a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and wrap-around sunglasses, and put both on Peter’s head.

“Hey kid, why don’t you stay here for a bit until you’re feeling better?” Tony whispered, positive the teen could still hear despite the headphones. “We’ll be in the common room, you can join us when you’re ready.”

He didn’t wait for a response, but lead the two Asgardians out and shut the sound-proof door behind him.

“Did we break him?” Thor asked nervously.

“No,” Tony sighed, leading them back down to the shared Avengers floor. “It’s kind of like a migraine. Sometimes the kid’s senses get a little overwhelmed and he needs to be in dark and quiet to re-calibrate them.”

“And he will be okay?” Loki asked.

Tony raised an eyebrow at the trickster god. “You actually care about the kid’s well-being?” he scoffed.

“Loki has adopted the child and he is now our brother. Does this make you our father, Man of Iron?”

“Jesus Christ, Thor, what is wrong with you? No wait, don’t answer that. Yes, Loki, the kid will be fine. And how would I be your father, aren’t you two like thousands of years old?”

“Midgardian and Asgardian time pass differently, Anthony,” Loki said. “In your years, I am only 17.”

“Seriously?” Tony said. “That explains so much. And you guys do realize I’m not the kid’s dad, right? I mean, obviously I care about him, he’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. His morals are straighter than Cap’s, he’s funny and sweet and kind, not to mention smarter than anyone I know. So what if I’m not the kid’s dad, I’d be proud if I were. I love him like a father, anyway.”

“Mr. Stark,” a wobbly voice came from the bottom of the stairs. Peter, still wearing the blackout sunglasses and noise-cancelling headphones, was standing there with his mouth trembling. If his eyes were visible, there’d probably have been tears there too. “Do you mean it?”

“What are you doing up?” Tony whispered.

“Do you mean it?”

“Obviously. Are the headphones working?”

“You don’t have to whisper, they’re super helpful. When did you design these? And the wrap-around sunglasses are super effective. Do I get to keep them? Are they both Stark-designed? And have you considered mass-producing them? There’s a shortage of assistive technology for people with sensory issues, and this would be an awesome addition to your prosthetics and mobility department.” Peter was still a little sluggish, though he was more alert than he’d been a half hour ago.

“What happened to calling me ‘Tony’?”

“I… what? When did I—”

“JARVIS, play back the tape.”

Peter heard the recording of himself yelling at JARVIS earlier in the day. ‘ Shut up, JARVIS. Tell Tony to stuff it. ’

“Mr. Stark, I am so sorry! I didn’t realize it was being recorded, and I never—”

“Kid, this was the highlight of my week,” Tony said. “I’m making it my new ringtone for you. And you’re welcome to call me Tony, you know. I kind of like it.”

“Oh.” Peter was silent for a minute, trying to figure out whether he would be brave enough to actually call his mentor by his first name. “I can try, Mr. S—Tony.” He smiled.

“And the child claims he’s not Anthony’s son,” Loki said. Both Peter and Tony had forgotten the gods were still there.

“I’m not—” Peter started.

“Just roll with it,” Tony said under his breath, knowing that Peter’s enhanced hearing would pick it up. “By the way, did Loki and Thor adopt you as their brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. You hungry?”

“Always, Mr. S—Tony.”

At that moment, Natasha and Clint walked into the room. Or rather Natasha walked into the room, and Clint fell down from the ventilation shaft above them.

“Are you ordering food?” Clint asked. “What’s with the getup, kid?”

“Our young brother had a migraine,” Thor said, keeping his voice much quieter than usual. “Somehow the disguise helps.”

“Your brother?” Clint asked, mock hurt. “Kid, what happened to the murder triplets?”

Peter sighed. “Yeah, sorry Thor. I already told Nata—um, the Black Widow and Mr. Hawkeye that they could be my siblings first.”

“We can share,” Natasha said, shrugging as she plopped down on the couch. “Tony, what’re you ordering?”

“I wasn’t aware I was feeding all of you,” Tony said sternly. “But is pizza okay?”

“What’s this about pizza?” Steve said as he walked in, Bucky trailing behind. “New York style?”

“Obviously, Mr. Captain Rogers, sir,” Peter said, smiling. “Mr. S—Tony, can you get some for Dr. Banner too?”

“Is this going to turn into family dinner night?” Tony said. “Fine. See if I care. Just wanted some one-on-one time with my kid, and now I’ve got to deal with all of you—”

“Shut up, Tony,” Pepper said as she came out of the elevator. She stepped out of her heels and curled her toes before picking up the offending shoes and heading towards the kitchen. “You’ve got him all day tomorrow. Can’t you let them have some time with the kid?”

“Et tu, Pepper?” Tony said, clutching the arc reactor over his heart. “You wound me.”

Peter giggled, but he could see Tony placing an order for pizza on his phone. A lot of pizza. Enough pizza to feed the handful of superheroes and enhanced super soldiers who would be there.

By the time the pizza was delivered to the front desk of the Avengers Tower, and Happy brought up the twenty boxes on a cart, Bruce had indeed showed up. Everyone grabbed plates and sat on the large sofa.

Peter looked up at the giant screen TV in front of them and asked, to no one in particular, “Movie night?”

“I can do you one better, kid,” Tony said, smirking. “JARVIS, cue up the Captain America PSAs.”

Steve blanched, and the other Avengers looked at him in confusion. “How did you—”

“The kid told me,” Tony said. The screen flickered to life.

“Kid,” Steve said, looking at Peter.

“I didn’t—okay, maybe I did, but not on purpose! I was telling Mr. S—Tony about how I’d told off a bully, and I used some of the lines from one of your videos, and it was super effective! But I didn’t mean to tell him. I mean, I didn’t realize it was a secret. And they’re not that bad, and—okay, that was a lie, they’re pretty embarrassing. But they do actually help sometimes.”

“Steve, what is the kid talking about?” Bucky asked in a low voice.

“I—”

But then the Captain America on the screen started talking. “So you’ve started to notice your body is changing…”

“Shit,” Steve said. This was one of the worst of the videos.

“Language,” Peter said, smirking. He’d already seen this one, so he pulled out his cellphone to text Ned.

[TheKid]
Watching the Cap PSAs with the Avengers lol
They didn’t know about them
Cap’s face AHHHHH XD

[ChairGuy]
Jealous
But need to get to sleep
Field trip tomorrow, will miss you. Who’s supposed to be my bus buddy?

[TheKid]
I’m sure you’ll live :’((((
Ask MJ, maybe she can draw you in distress missing me

[ChairGuy]
:( miss you

“It’s official,” Clint said. “I never want to hear Cap say the word ‘masturbate’ ever again.” He stood up and headed for the stairs, apparently satisfied to take the normal way up to his and Natasha’s floor instead of crawling through the vents.

“But it’s ‘perfectly natural for a growing boy,’ Clint. Weren’t you watching?” Natasha asked, barely keeping a straight face.

“I hate you all,” Steve said. “C’mon, Bucky, let’s head up.”

“No, I am learning,” the super soldier replied, eyes glued to the screen.

“Don’t worry, Manchurian candidate. We can watch more of them tomorrow.” Tony flicked off the TV. He looked at his watch, surprised that it was already 10 p.m. “All of you, out. The kid’s got to catch up on sleep.”

Tony knew how much one of Peter’s sensory shut-downs took out of him, and the 20-minute nap the teenager had grabbed earlier wasn’t enough by a long-shot. Of course, going to sleep this early likely meant that Peter would wake up at a disgustingly early time, but he could tell the kid was fading fast.

Despite some good-natured grumbles, the Avengers began to filter out of the common room. Bruce and Pepper had left an hour earlier, since they tended to get to bed early. Natasha and Clint headed up the stairs, followed by Steve and Bucky. Thor and Loki stood up and stretched before walking towards the elevator.

“Wait, Mr. Thor, your Majesty! You forgot your hammer thing,” Peter said, grabbing Mjölnir from the coffee table and sprinting after the god.

Tony’s eyes bugged out. Loki looked like he was trying not to smirk, waiting to see his brother’s dismayed reaction at someone being able to lift his hammer. But Thor was not dismayed. To the contrary, a giant smile broke out on the blond god’s face.

“Aha, youngest brother Stark-son, I am not surprised. Loki, did you see?” Thor took the hammer from Peter, followed by wrapping the teenager in a tight hug and lifting him off his feet as he spun around. “I knew the child would be our brother. And now, a rightful heir of Asgard? I am overjoyed.”

“Wha—Mr. Thor, can you put me down? Thanks,” Peter said, dusting off his now-wrinkled shirt. “I didn’t figure you’d be that grateful that I gave you your hammer back.”

“Kid,” Tony said slowly. “Only the rightful heir to Asgard can lift Thor’s hammer. Loki can’t, none of the Avengers can. I certainly can’t.”

“Oh. Huh.” Peter tilted his head like a puppy. “Well, that’s neat. And I’ll probably totally freak out over it in the morning. But I’m actually sleepy, can we talk about this tomorrow? Or, you know, never?”

Part of Peter worried that this would reveal his secret identity as Spider-Man to the gods, but it didn’t seem that they thought him anything other than a normal teenager—just one who apparently had been deemed ‘worthy’ by a large metal tool.

Loki looked at Peter appraisingly. “If you say so, little brother. We don’t need to talk about it. With you, at least. Thor should probably let Heimdall know, but we don’t expect you to do anything different.”

“Good night, child. As the television says, sleep tight and do not allow the bugs in your bed to bite you in your slumber.” Thor gripped Peter’s shoulder hard, before heading towards the stairs, Loki following behind.

“You never cease to amaze me, kid,” Tony said, ruffling Peter’s head as the teenager let out a yawn. “Now get to sleep. You and I have got a big day tomorrow.”

Peter nodded and headed to the elevators so he could return to Tony’s floor of the penthouse. Tony stayed behind, muttering about PSAs and rightful heirs as he picked up the remaining pizza boxes and threw them away. Not for the first time, he regretted that they weren’t able to allow the tower janitors into the penthouse because of security restrictions. But tomorrow was his day on protection duty, and he looked forward to spending it with Peter.

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