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For the record, Penny didn’t hate Captain America. Sure, she wouldn’t have passed up the chance to punch him in the face, but Mr. Stark didn’t hate him, so neither did she. Still, she had seen the footage from Siberia. She didn’t trust him in the slightest, and she felt like she was justified in feeling at least a little betrayed by her childhood hero.
(Still, had she known she would be meeting him , she might have taken the time to process her emotions a little more.)
Penny knew the accords were being revised, so logically she could have assumed that the rogues would be around the tower soon enough, but that would have required logic, and she was perpetually sleep deprived. Instead, she went charging through the halls on a fateful Friday afternoon, high on adrenaline, having run all the way from her nearby decathlon meet. This wouldn’t have been the end of the world, had she not been drenched in glitter - clutching her team’s newly awarded trophy and yelling Mr. Stark’s name - when she ran straight into a wall.
(Since when had there been a wall there? On second thoughts, Penny realized that it was quite a weirdly textured wall, and it smelled...almost patriotic... and holy fuck that’s not a wall, it’s Captain fucking America. )
He stood tall in the center of the corridor, looking down at her with patronizingly concerned eyes. When Penny saw his face - those deceivingly innocent blue eyes and grandmother-esque cable knit sweater - she was blinded by a sudden wave of rage. How dare he stand there, looking all patriotic and righteous, after what he had done to Tony? Acting from pure, sleep deprived, adrenaline-happy instinct and not sparing a thought to the consequences, Penny promptly pulled back her fist and socked him in the jaw.
CRACK
Well, shit.
(She did say that she wouldn’t have passed up the chance, didn’t she?)
It was moments like this that made Penny question how exactly her life had ended up this insane. One moment she had been a regular teenager - albeit a little smarter than the norm, and minus a few parental figures - and the next she was standing in front of Captain fucking America, covered from head to toe in glitter, having just dislocated his jaw. Whoops?
For a minute, she stood there in shock as the Captain cradled his jaw tenderly. What did she just do? No normal teenager would have been able to dislocate Captain fucking America’s jaw! She needed a plan - quickly. Her eyes scanned the corridor. There was a window, but casually jumping out of a window might cause even more concern than casually punching Captain fucking America in the jaw. No, the window was definitely not an option. She could run down the hall, but if Steve was here, what were the chances of the other avengers being here too, just waiting for her to run into them? No, that wasn’t worth the risk either. Left with only one more option, Penny made the very logical decision of scrambling into the vents while the Captain wasn’t looking.
(It seemed like a good idea at the time, okay?)
The last thing she expected to see once she poked her head into the slightly-ominous vent, however, was a face staring back at her. A somewhat familiar, freckled face with a mischievous grin. Hawkeye. Clint motherfucking Barton.
(What was Penny’s life? How the fuck did she get here?)
“Nope, nope, nope,” she muttered to herself, backing out of the vent and dropping to the floor, leaving a snail-trail of golden glitter behind her. “Nopenopenopenopenope.”
Then, of course, she backed straight into Captain fucking America. Again. Could her day happen to get anymore crazy? Captain America looked somewhat shell shocked, still clutching his jaw, gaping at Penny, who was standing there in all her glittery glory, trophy still tucked under her arm. As the answer-er of the most questions at the competition, the trophy was hers to keep, none of the team having wanted to surrender it to a dismal life in the school’s dusty trophy cabinet. She had been excited, purely for the fact that she would be able to show it to Mr. Stark. Oh yeah, Mr Stark!
“Fri...where’s Mr. Stark right now?”
“Boss is currently in the conference room, would you like me to ask for his assistance?”
“Uh,” Penny began, glancing at her surroundings. Captain America was still standing there, staring at her, seemingly in shock, and Hawkeye was poking his head out of the vent. He looked surprisingly nonplussed, but Penny supposed that this kind of thing was a common occurrence in the life of a fully-fledged superhero. Maybe they got used to all of the craziness after a while?
(God, Penny hoped so.)
“Yeah, Friday. Would you tell him that I have a bit of a… situation?”
“Of course, Mini Boss.”
Penny allowed herself a small sigh of relief. Mr. Stark would be on his way soon, most likely guns blazing, if she knew him as well as she thought she did. Tony could be quite… protective, especially since the Vulture incident. After that entire shitshow they had established weekly lab-days, something that Penny treasured more and more by the day. Mr. Stark was almost becoming another father figure to her, not that she would ever admit it.
(She didn’t want to risk losing another father figure, and she knew Tony had a fair array of daddy issues himself. It wasn’t something that either of them were willing to confess.)
Penny tapped her foot impatiently against the ground, not knowing what else to do. Both Captain fucking America and Clint fucking Barton were staring at her, neither daring to say a thing. Well, Cap’s silence might have been encouraged by the dislocated jaw, and if Hawkeye was still anything like the stories Tony told her, he was probably just watching shit go down. Mr. Stark had always told her about how after rigging the elaborate prank of the day, Clint would just sit in the vents and watch the chaos, often accompanied by Black Widow, his partner in crime. Come to think of it, Penny realized, it was a little weird to see the two of them apart.
(She should’ve known better than to jinx it.)
“Didn’t know this tower had a bug problem…” came a low, unwavering voice from behind her. Of course. Of course Natasha fucking Romanoff would show up next, and to top it all off, figure out her identity. To be fair, there was a trail of glitter going directly up the wall, but Penny still thought she had been pretty subtle.
(She’d tried, at the very least.)
Faced with very few options, Penny decided that she may as well play dumb. Sure, the chance that she would be able to outwit a superspy was next to zero, but if she didn’t try then the chance was definitely zero. This sound logic in mind, Penny summoned her high school French knowledge.
“Uh, je ne parle pas anglais?” [uh, I don’t speak english?] she said, putting on her frenchiest accent and channeling her inner baguette. Her mother was half French, so you never know.
“Bien sûr, fille-araignée,” [of course, spider-girl,] Black Widow said with a smirk. “Nous allons bien entendre, n’est ce pas?" [We’re gonna get along well, aren’t we?]
Well, shit. Penny really should have paid more attention in French class.
“Oui, oui,” she responded shakily, earning a chuckle from the vent. Just as she was trying to figure out what to say next, she heard the signature sound of repulsors approaching, and breathed a sigh of relief. That was until she noticed that they weren’t coming from the elevator, at least.
“Oh my fucking god, he’s gonna crash through the window, isn’t he?” Penny muttered to herself, more frustrated than surprised. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Iron Man came crashing through the window.
“Penny!” he called, letting the mask fold into itself. “I was just on the floor above and figured this would be faster than crashing through the literal floor. Where’s the fire? Wait, don’t answer that. There had better not be an actual fire.”
Penny raised an eyebrow, trying her best not to look guilty, and gestured around herself. Tony’s suit dissipated as he took in the sight around him, and he scratched his head nervously.
“Ah, Cap, Nat, I see you’ve met my... intern,” he stammered. Technically, it wasn’t a lie, but Nat would still see through it in seconds. “She, uh, packs quite a punch,” he said, nodding to Captain fucking America.
(No, Penny was still not over the fact that Captain motherfucking America was in her immediate vicinity.)
There was an awkward moment, all parties merely staring at each other, until Penny remembered the trophy that was still tucked under her arm.
“I won my decathlon tournament, Mr. Dad!” she said eagerly. Tony blanched, and only then did she realize what exactly she had said.
(Oh. Oh . Oh no.)
“Mr. Stark, I mean,” she corrected quickly, “that’s what I meant to say.”
The vent laughed again, which Penny personally thought was quite rude. She was having a crisis here, thank you very much.
“That’s great, Pen!” Mr. Stark said, “the tournament, not the… not that it’s not, but-”
“Well, I think we can all tell what’s going on here,” Natasha fucking Romanoff said, eyeing Mr. Stark knowingly as she cut him off. Penny held her breath, waiting for the identity reveal. “Didn’t know you had a secret family too, Stark.”
(What? Did she think-? No, of course she didn’t. She’s the motherfucking Black Widow.)
Natasha made eye contact with Penny, warning her to play along. She nodded as subtly as she could, attempting to channel her inner theater nerd. In the end, it didn’t need much acting.
“Ah, yep. You, uh, got us. Mr-Dad is my Dad.”
(Okay, she wouldn’t be winning any Oscars anytime soon, but it was genuine enough to fool at least Cap, who garbled his understanding the best he could with an injured jaw.)
“Right, well, why don’t we get you down to medical, Cap?” Tony said, looking anxious for any way to ease the tension. Penny caught his eye, and had to stifle a laugh at the pure discomfort she saw staring back at her. Rolling his eyes, Tony slung an arm around Cap’s shoulder, and led him to the elevator. “You two, play nice,” he ordered, just as the elevator closed. Natasha smirked.
“You heard that, Clint,” she said, directing her gaze toward the vent cover. “
Two
.”
After some inconsiderate mumblings, Penny heard the clanking of Hawkeye retreating down the vent. She quickly choked down the spike of anxiety that rose when she realized she was alone with Natasha fucking Romanoff; if it wasn’t completely and utterly safe, Tony would never have left her alone.
“So, spider-girl, is it?” Penny opened her mouth to protest, but Natasha waved her hand dismissively. There was no point in protesting, she realized. “You’ve got promise kid, once you learn some actual forms . Meet me at the Compound every Wednesday evening. God knows Stark isn’t qualified to teach you subtlety.”
Penny blushed, unsure whether she should have been flattered or offended. In the end, she settled on flattered, purely due to the fact that it was Natasha fucking Romanoff.
“Of course, Miss, uh, Black Widow Natasha Romanoff, Ma’am.”
Natasha smirked.
“Call me Nat, kid.”