Chapter Text
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP -
"F.R.I.D.A.Y., stop the alarm!" Peter yelped, turning over in bed and trying (failing) to get back to sleep.
"Good morning Peter, Boss has requested that I tell you that, and I quote, 'Barnes has made pancakes, and if you want some you need to get your ass into the kitchen before Barton does.'"
The prospect of pancakes did make Peter more enthusiastic to actually get out of bed: Bucky was the best cook on the team and his pancakes were the stuff of legend. Okay, so maybe the only other person on the team willing to cook was Vision, and his attempt had not gone down well. Peter swore there's still cake batter in between the kitchen tiles.
With that slightly traumatising memory fresh in his mind, Peter rolled out of bed and began his daily quest of choosing an outfit (when did picking clothes get so hard?). Finally, he selected a T-shirt Scott gave him, printed with: Why do I make bad chemistry jokes? Because all the good ones Argon!
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Peter arrived in the kitchen ten minutes later to find a triumphant Clint Barton sat on the counter, swinging his legs and eating an unholy amount of pancakes.
"What the fuck Clint, you'd think you had an enhanced metabolism with the amount you eat," Peter said, flopping down next to Clint and watching as Bucky added a fresh pancake to an already stacked plate next to him.
"Language," Steve muttered as Bucky set the plate of pancakes down in front of Peter with a small smile. The ex-HYDRA member had definitely mellowed since moving into the Tower, developing a soft spot for Peter in particular.
"Spider-baby, I hope you can eat fast because Happy's driving Pepper upstate for a meeting so I'll have to drive you, and at the rate you're going you'll be late!" a certain Tony Stark shot into the room in a panic.
"I could swing to school?" Peter suggested hopefully, half a pancake in his mouth. Tony looked ready to have a heart attack right then and there.
"I'll take him on my bike now, Tony," Steve offered. "Pete, you ready?"
"No way are you taking my kid on that Death Machine!" Tony screeched, but Steve and Peter were already sprinting from the room, Steve pausing only to peck Bucky on the cheek.
"And you say he's not your son," whispered Clint incredulously. Tony shoved him with his shoulder.
"Shut up, Barton."
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The Three Musketeers!!!
peter not-stark: dududdududes THE captain america is driving me to school!!!!
guy in the chair: omg!!! did he eat breakfast with you? what did he eat?? does he like waffles bc i like waffles and imagine saying you and CAPTAIN AMERICA like the same breakfast food!!!
mj: loser, you literally live in the same house as captain america. chill out.
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Ned shot up to Peter almost the nanosecond he was done waving to Steve. Ned grabbed Peter by the arm and started to drag them to homeroom.
"DUDE! Very important question, what did Captain America have for breakfast? Was it waffles? Please say it was waffles!" cried Ned excitedly as they took their seats.
"Bucky made us all pancakes, actually," admitted Peter.
"The Winter Soldier made you pancakes," Ned echoed, ecstatic.
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The rest of the day passed in a blur of Ned quizzing him on the Avengers' favourite foods ("Well, Wanda's favourite used to be carrot cake, but everyone sorta went off cake altogether after Vision tried to make her one."), too-long lessons and Flash's apparently non-stop insults about his Stark Internship.
"Mr. Parker! Surely my lesson is much more important than whatever you're reading on your phone?" Mr. Harrington snapped.
"Uh.. yes Sir, of course," replied Peter hastily, risking a final glance at his phone as he shoved it into his pocket.
irondad: You were in such a rush this morning I forgot to tell you: team dinner tonight!
peter not-stark: whoa! everyone?
irondad: Yep! Carol, Thor, Valkyrie, the Guardians, you name them, they're probably coming!
Despite Flash's remarks being worse than usual today, Peter couldn't help himself: he was in a good mood now. There were only five minutes of the lesson left, surely nothing could ruin his good mood now?
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"Wait a second before you go, class. I have a very exciting announcement for you!" yelled Mr. Harrington over the din of 20, very-eager-to-go-home teenagers.
When he was satisfied he had the full attention of the kids, he cried: "For our yearly field trip - drum roll, please! - we are going to... Stark Industries!"
Good mood: ruined, thought Peter, already going over the possible ways he could get rid of the permission slip. Catching sight of Flash's shit eating grin, Peter turned to Ned with the expression of a toddler who's lost their ice cream.
"Ned, I'm doomed!"