Chapter Text
Dinner had somehow become a tradition.
Peter wasn’t entirely sure when it had happened.
Maybe it was because Tony insisted that “family meals prevent billionaires from becoming complete gremlins.”
Maybe it was because Thor had declared Midgardian pasta “a gift worthy of Valhalla.”
Or maybe…
Maybe Peter just liked that, for a little while each evening, nobody was Iron Man or Captain America or Spider-Man.
They were just…
People.
Very strange people.
⸻
Peter wandered into the dining room a few minutes early.
“Hey, kid.”
Tony didn’t even glance up from the saucepan he was stirring.
“Need anything?”
“Yeah.”
Tony pointed with the wooden spoon.
“Set the table.”
Peter laughed.
“I walked right into that.”
“You absolutely did.”
⸻
By the time everyone arrived, the room buzzed with conversation.
Thor was enthusiastically explaining why syrup belonged on nearly everything.
“It improves morale.”
“It improves diabetes,” Clint muttered.
Natasha snorted into her drink.
Steve looked genuinely horrified.
Bruce quietly accepted defeat and poured Thor more syrup.
Peter couldn’t stop smiling.
This…
This was nice.
⸻
“FRIDAY,” Tony called.
“Yes, Boss?”
“Status report.”
A pause.
Then—
“I have determined that approximately… forty-two percent of this meal is emotionally supportive.”
Peter blinked.
“…Emotionally supportive?”
“The garlic bread appears encouraging.”
Clint leaned toward Peter.
“I think she’s getting worse.”
“I heard that, Agent Barton.”
“…See?”
⸻
Halfway through dinner, Peter found himself relaxing.
Actually relaxing.
Steve asked about school.
Bruce wanted to hear about Peter’s science fair projects.
Thor listened with complete seriousness while Peter explained web fluid.
“Young Peter has created artificial silk?”
“…Sort of.”
“A brilliant warrior.”
Peter ducked his head.
“It’s really just chemistry.”
Thor slapped him on the shoulder.
“Exactly!”
Peter nearly face-planted into his mashed potatoes.
⸻
Tony smirked.
“You’ll get used to him.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“You won’t.”
Thor smiled proudly.
⸻
Laughter echoed through the room.
Peter looked around the table.
Tony was arguing with Clint.
Natasha was making sarcastic comments every few seconds.
Steve was pretending not to laugh.
Bruce looked happier than Peter had ever seen him.
For just a moment…
Everything felt normal.
⸻
Then—
Every hair on Peter’s arms stood up.
His stomach dropped.
The familiar buzzing sensation exploded through his entire body.
His senses
Strong.
Stronger than he’d ever felt.
Peter froze.
His fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
The smile vanished from his face.
⸻
Tony noticed immediately.
He’d seen that expression before.
Usually seconds before something exploded.
“Kid?”
Peter didn’t answer.
His eyes darted toward the windows.
Toward the ceiling.
Toward the hallway.
Every instinct screamed—
Danger.
⸻
Tony’s own posture changed.
Years of experience took over.
“Everybody…”
His voice was calm.
“Quiet.”
The room fell silent instantly.
Even Thor stopped talking.
Peter slowly stood.
His breathing had become shallow.
“…Peter?”
Steve frowned.
“What is it?”
“I…”
Peter swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
His voice barely came out.
“But something’s wrong.”
⸻
The silence stretched.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Nothing happened.
Clint shifted.
“…False alarm?”
Peter shook his head.
“No.”
The buzzing only grew stronger.
⸻
Tony was already moving.
He trusted Peter’s instincts.
“FRIDAY.”
“Yes, Boss?”
“Security sweep.”
A pause.
“I have completed the scan.”
“And?”
“I found…”
Another pause.
“…lasagna.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose.
“FRIDAY.”
“I may have scanned the kitchen.”
Bruce sighed.
“Still malfunctioning.”
⸻
Peter’s pulse hammered.
Too quiet.
Way…
Too quiet.
Then—
Glass exploded inward.
Peter moved before he consciously decided to.
His thumb slammed against the face of his Stark watch.
Twin web-shooters unfolded over his wrists.
With one sharp flick—
A webline shot across the room.
Captain America’s shield, resting against the far wall, jerked free.
Steve’s eyes widened.
The shield rocketed across the room—
Straight into Peter’s waiting hand.
A split second later—
Something struck the vibranium with tremendous force.
The impact echoed through the dining room.
The shield shuddered violently in Peter’s grip.
For one stunned heartbeat…
Nobody moved.
Peter slowly lowered the shield.
Embedded in the center was a flattened metallic dart crackling with blue electricity.
Tony stared at it.
“…That was aimed at me.”
Peter nodded, still breathing hard.
“I know.”
⸻
Steve was already moving toward the shattered window.
“Everyone down.”
Natasha disappeared from her chair almost instantly.
Clint reached for his bow.
Thor stood, Mjolnir in hand.
Bruce carefully guided Peter away from the broken glass.
⸻
“FRIDAY!”
Tony barked.
“Seal the Tower.”
“I have begun…”
A pause.
“…playing jazz.”
Soft saxophone suddenly filled the room.
Everyone stared at the ceiling.
Tony slowly closed his eyes.
“…Not jazz.”
“My apologies.”
The music stopped.
Then resumed louder.
⸻
“Boss?”
FRIDAY asked cheerfully.
“I may have misunderstood.”
⸻
Peter almost laughed.
Almost.
His spider-sense hadn’t faded.
If anything…
It was getting worse.
Much worse.
Somewhere in the Tower…
Someone was already inside.
And whoever they were…
They hadn’t come for Tony alone.
The feeling sitting heavy in Peter’s chest told him something he desperately wished wasn’t true.
They were looking for him.