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"Welcome home, Mr. Parker."
A curious brow arched in response to the new greeting. Peter adjusting the strap of his backpack in response to that, "Uh… thanks, JARVIS, but it's still just a temporary sort of thing. I mean, how long could it take to train to be an Avenger?"
"How long indeed, sir."
Ignoring the vague feeling that he was being mocked by Artificial Intelligence, Peter merely shook his head and looked around.
Lights of the New York City skyline flashed clearly into view, twinkling in the sea of hustle and bustle that characterized the City That Never Slept. Everything in this floor of the Stark Tower was sleek but seeing as how it had come to house a few characters that were far more dangerous than the average burglar, he knew that there had to be some kind of reinforcement that kept it tough too. The designer couches, the equally designer pillows, the bar off to the side, and a TV that was bordering upon unnecessary levels of huge…
Yes, Peter Parker, Stark Industries part-time employee and sometimes-vigilante, figured that this would suit him juuuust fine.
"I'm just going to throw it out there since no one else seems to want to crush your dreams—you're only going to be a back-up Avenger, Parker. When we're being knocked aside like bowling pins and there's just one or two of us left stopping the bad guys from getting that spare," a familiar voice spoke from up the set of – whoa, are those seriously made of glass? – stairs.
"What am I supposed to do if there's none of you left—"
"Run home and tell your sweet granny farewell to this cruel, cruel world because chances are that just having you stand against whatever took out an entire team means that we've got a very psychotic god on our hands," Tony shrugged and swirled the glass of Scotch in his hand, "I could either mean the one that supposedly resides in the clouds or an actual god straight from Asgard, I'm not sure yet."
Peter merely sighed and shook his head. "I really appreciate the vote of confidence, Mr. Stark," his eyes danced with mirth, admittedly a little amused despite himself. Yeah, working for Tony Stark had its perks—one of them the fact that he didn't have to watch his mouth anymore now that the secret had been spilled a few months ago between them that Peter was also Spider-Man.
The other perk was being able to hang out with the Avengers and this eventually led to him now living with them for an indefinite amount of time so he could receive the 'proper training to be an Avenger just in case'.
Figuring that it sounded like fun and there was no harm in it, Peter decided to shrug off whatever situation could lead to this 'just in case' scenario. It'd probably be really bad.
And despite popular belief, Peter actually wasn't one to dwell on bad things.
"Remind me how you managed to convince Aunt May to let me stay here with you…?" he asked after his employer had only just shrugged off his last statement. Now his hands were just fiddling with the Master Remote, which seemed to not only control the TV, console, Blu-Ray player, digital server, but also the lights, surround sound system, and the microwave.
Tony wandered over and snatched the remote right out of Peter's hands with a hum, "We made a trade."
The click to shut off the TV rang of finality even as Peter's brows knit together.
"My own aunt just traded me off like that?" he couldn't help but air out his disbelief. Aunt May was hardly even comfortable with him being out late at night—
"Well," Tony's head cocked to the side and he hesitated to give an answer for a moment, as if testing out how the words tasted on his own tongue before letting them spill forth. "I mean, there's very little that most people wouldn't trade for if they got Captain America out of the bargain—"
"What?!"
"Yeah, so if you don't see Steve around…"
"Haha, very funny, Tony."
They both turned to see the super soldier in question there, dressed down in civilian clothes and a wry grin on his face.
"You think?" the billionaire gave a grin that showed no shame, "Because I've often considered taking up the life of comedy, schnookums. Then maybe we'd have enough money to run away together if I make a killing—"
In response to the sick look on Peter's face, Steve just shook his head, "Stark's antics aside… it's really good to see you, Peter."
There was the smile that managed to light up the whole room, a reveal of pearly whites just for Peter as the living legend reached out and shook his hand firmly as he always did. In response, the teenager could only manage a smile and the not so original response of, "Uh, yeah! Nice to see you too, Steve."
"Steve? Why is he Steve and I'm Mr. Stark?"
"Sorry if we're pulling you away from another task, but we thought since you were already working at Stark Tower, it wouldn't be too much of an issue to cut down on the commute for you? And don't worry about your aunt—we've got some pretty tight security system to ensure that she's doing just fine and you're welcome to visit her whenever you like," Steve explained with a smile.
"Are we going to mention who designed those security systems to be undetectable and let us all know if something's wrong at the first sign of trouble?"
"No biggie, I'm out of the house most of the time anyway," Peter shrugged and tried (but failed) to hide the clear relief when hearing that everyone was on high alert to make sure that his aunt was okay. "What are we talking about for this… uh, training business, though? I didn't really get to ask; Mr. Stark just threatened to fire me if I didn't agree—"
"That's a lie."
And finally Peter looked to face the man again, recalling the words of 'either you're coming to live in Stark Tower or I'm shipping you to India to live in a crate.'
"I just heavily implied it."
Steve proceeded to just side-eye Tony a bit before giving a mix of a sigh and a laugh. Apparently someone had some experience dealing with the billionaire's eccentric behavior by now. In the end, he just shook his head, "It just means you'll be tested a bit more – we've seen for a fact that you're entirely capable of saving people… it's just that we're going to try making sure that your heart is in the right place. SHIELD is making us do it just so we're all on the same page—"
"Yes, because clearly, the master assassins with us are just huge woobies underneath," Tony scoffed.
"Like I was saying…. you won't have any issues passing, Peter. Just a little while under observation. Nothing invasive or uncouth, Tony and I made sure of that since we were part of the planning process, it's just…" Steve took a moment to try to figure out the words he was looking for. Then it came to him, prompting him to snap his fingers as his face lit up, "It's a test! And I will tell you now that this is a test."
"But even if you fail, we still love you," Tony took on a falsely sweet tone before turning on his heel and throwing over his shoulder "except for the fact that you're fired."
Peter tried his hardest to believe the way that Steve mouthed to him 'he's just kidding'.
"And you're settling in well? By the way, can you hand me that— Thanks," Bruce gave his newfound assistant a grin as he accepted the test tube of blue liquid.
Peter had reignited his love for swivel chairs, volunteering himself as a top as he spun and kept his gaze focused on the ceiling, "Well as I can, I guess. I've spent a lot of time over here during the past few months anyway—but what are they supposed to be monitoring me on? I can't even go out with you guys when something's going wrong…"
"Maybe because you're not allowed to until you're deemed as 'trained'?" the older man offered as he adjusted his goggles nervously with one hand, gradually pouring the blue liquid to enter the flask of his current concoction.
"Seems really counter-productive to me," Peter sighed as he made a dramatic gesture with his arms, raising them above his head before they both fell over the arm rests. "How am I supposed to get trained for being an Avenger when I'm not even allowed to… y'know, go out to be with the Avengers?"
"You be a good little mutant and stop playing with Daddy's stuff."
Spider senses could only prepare Peter so much for the hand suddenly snapping out to seize hold of the back of the chair, completely cutting off his spin cycle and nearly sending him careening right off the piece of furniture itself. Instead he just waited the half a second for his world to realign itself, a response already poised at the tip of his tongue—
"Please don't refer to yourself as my daddy."
"That's hurtful. I've been feeding you and keeping a shelter over your head for the past three weeks," Tony shrugged and didn't really look that hurt. "But on the mention of 'feeding', I'm starved. Time to grab a hot dog? Yes, I think so. Brucey baby, do you want anything? I'll put extra relish just for you—"
"I'll pass," the doctor adjusted his goggles before giving his friend a soft grin, "We just had dinner thirty minutes ago, Tony."
The grumble that suddenly released itself from the billionaire's stomach made it clear that not all of them had dinner thirty minutes ago.
Peter didn't bother biting back a laugh.
"Shush, you don't have a choice," Tony grabbed a nearby stack of papers – but not without a flash of distaste first because everyone knew that Tony absolutely hated paper – and whapped the teenager on his crown.
"Hey!" he laughed, raising both hands to cover his head, "I'll call Miss Potts! This is child abuse. You could be sued for this, Mr. Stark—"
Tony gasped. "Did you hear that, Bruce? Child abuse! Our little boy is finally admitting that he's part of our terribly dysfunctional family. Actually I'm not even sure if he's fitting the role of 'little boy', can we make him the family pet instead—"
"Tony, I'm having no part in this." And it was true. Dr. Banner was entirely focused on his current project.
"Now that's just—"
Except the world would never know what 'it just was' since Tony found his wrist being hit with a sound 'smack'.
Turning his head, he supposed he shouldn't have been all too surprised that Parker used the opening to secure his own stack of papers, rolling them up and matching Tony's makeshift weapon.
"En garde," the mini-Avenger challenged, taking on very poor fencing posture as well as a hideous accent.
The billionaire rolled his eyes at that and started just walking right past Parker, making the teenager tilt his head a bit and lower his paper sword. He looked to Bruce for guidance and opened his mouth to ask, "Are his mood swings always that—"
Of course, he was cut off when he picked up on the sliding movement of feet as well as the air distortion that came with movement. He turned, ready to counter the assault that would be coming at him-
Just to come face to face with DUM-E.
The robot made a whirring noise at him just before a bundle of papers came into contact with his forehead.
Even Bruce had to laugh.
Tony didn't stop calling him an amateur the rest of the evening and just to rub in it, he made sure to throw in random, perfect, fluent French in there.
But at least he did pay for the hot dog.
"And that concludes the exciting report on how the Avengers managed to once again save our fair city from Loki of Asgard. We have no news on where this mysterious man has gone, but we can only hope that he will be apprehended soon."
"Soon, shmoon, he hasn't been caught since the first time he came here," Peter scoffed before grabbing another handful of potato chips and cramming them into his mouth.
Besides him, there was a grumble of acknowledgment, Thor's own mouth stuffed with Pop-Tarts.
(Clint walked by the living room, bottle of Dr. Pepper in hand, and marveled at how the scrawny Peter Parker managed to keep up with Thor in cleaning out most of the pantry. He then looked at his own forearms in thought. Was that what it meant to have superpowers?
He decided it was still give-and-take if it meant pigging out in front of the couch without concern for decorum and left without a word.)
"I know not how," Thor finally managed to get words in as he dug deep in the box in his lap, searching for his next Pop-Tart victim, "but my brother has somehow mastered the magic concerning teleportation. It is beyond my power to locate him without first returning to Asgard to consult Heimdall, our gatekeeper…"
"Well, it's not your fault," Peter waved a chip around as he spoke, "Figure you're all going to have to find a way to capture him soon though. He seems to be enjoying himself a bit too much causing panic just because he knows it bugs you."
Thor nodded for a moment before giving a large grin. It only made sense once he pried another Pop-Tart from the box, still in its wrapper. With that, his good humor seemed to return as he looked to Peter, "You needn't speak so, Peter Parker. Certainly you shall soon be joining us on the battlefield."
"Soon?" the teenager snorted, "Last time I was told 'soon' was two months ago when Cap assured me that this wouldn't take long."
"And next we have the results from our poll! Who does New York City find to be the hunkiest Avenger? Stay tuned!"
"Aaaand that's where I take my leave," Peter raised a brow before standing from the couch, patting Thor on the shoulder as he walked by. "Thanks for the attempt to cheer me up though. Guess I'm just getting a little anxious."
"Try not to have too much excitement for the field of battle, young Parker!" Thor gave his wisdom before he allowed his brows to furrow.
Uh-oh, Peter knew that look—
"But before you go, may you enlighten me as to the definition of 'hunkiest'?"
"Hey? Heeeeeeey?! Testing testing, one two three, take my hand and come with me because you look so fine and I really want to make you mine?"
Saved by the bell—or rather, the intercom that Tony had installed throughout the Stark Tower, his voice coming in clear as a bell, at least. Old music reference and all that just managed to befuddle the Norse God further.
Mildly amused, Peter just spoke up to the ceiling even though he knew that was hardly necessary, "Yes, Mr. Stark?"
"Oh is that you, Parker? Guess it would've been too nice for me to have lucked out and gotten Bruce huh—well okay, you'll do. Come down and we're going to test how much you know about radiation and energy signatures."
"I'm going to go ahead and take that as an order from my boss," Peter spoke to Thor even though Tony managed to chime with an 'oh it definitely is'. "So I'm going to go before I get fired, alright? Great talking to you as always. Super enlightening. And don't forget to add Pop-Tarts to the post-it that we call a grocery list or else Tasha's going to be on both of our asses."
Then without so much as a single attempt to help Thor with his vocabulary problem, Peter ducked out and ran to the elevator that he knew would take him straight to Mr. Stark's personal R&D department.
"Oh goodie, let's check if you have a use besides sitting around on your spidey butt and eating me out of house and Oreos," Tony spoke up as soon as he heard the elevator doors opening.
When not working with Bruce, the other man had a tendency to hole himself in an entirely separate floor of the Stark Tower. It was filled with scraps on every table, cluttered heavily in comparison to the normally neat space of the shared floor with Dr. Banner. Plenty of half-finished projects but at least there was a mostly clear space between the tables so that Mr. Stark could easily roll himself over to whatever project he needed to.
For now he was seated in front of three large panels, hands darting about, manipulating windows and making them come alive, slip, slide, and then disappear like a sorcerer.
And even though Peter Parker would openly admit that watching his boss work was a lot like magic, he couldn't help but raise a brow at what else was in the room. Wandering over to a small circular table – more of a pedestal, really – he pointed at the object of his attention.
"Is that…?"
"Mashugana?" Tony offered, feigning obliviousness.
"Metallica?"
"Mazel tov?"
"Meow Mix?"
"Mona Lisa?"
"Mambo Number Five?"
The billionaire couldn't help but laugh, "Stretching it pretty far there, Parker. I'm going to have to claim victory this round."
"Well you know," Peter ran a hand through his hair, still unable to take his eyes off of Thor's hammer, wrapped up in wires and then encased in a glass that he could only assume was laced with internal sensors, "you've had longer to come up with names than I have."
"Point," Tony shrugged before using a beckoning finger to call the teenager over to the panels, "But as refreshing as a battle of wits is – seriously, where's Bruce? I'm getting lonely stewing in my own genius – that's not what I called you over here for. Come have a look-see at this."
There was plenty going on with the panels, but Tony had at least taken the liberty of enlarging what Peter was supposed to be looking at: two wavelengths from the look of it, sporadic and constantly changing. One of them was highlighted a bright, startling yellow whereas the other was outlined in neon, electric green.
"From what I can tell…" Peter narrowed his eyes, "The yellow one has a tendency to fluctuate a lot more whereas the green is mostly stable. What're the cycle times on each? Because the green has a pattern that's a lot more identifiable than the yellow one."
"Hold your horses, Spiderbutt," Tony scoffed, "I didn't ask for your opinion yet. But at least your guesses are right- the green are the readings I got on the suit today from when I got hit with a dose of Loki's magic. The yellow is actually readings I got from Thor earlier when I asked him to focus some of his energy into Mnyumyuh. It took a lot longer for it to reach peak levels but if I stop it…. here—"
A simple press of his fingers froze both of the waves, where Peter could identify their peaks… and if it weren't for the color, they'd be the exact same.
Raising his brows, "Wow, it's the same… so what're you saying? This is the frequency of Loki's attacks?"
"Yes, but it's a magical frequency—don't ask, I don't have the patience to explain. Bruce was the one who figured out how to track it since he knows radiation better than I do—so it's not like I can immediately outfit a satellite to pick it up," Tony frowned vaguely, "I'd have to build a completely new one to track it properly."
"Well… it's something, right?" Peter stepped back again and tilted his head, still trying to wrap his head around how on earth this could even be remotely possible—it only took until he remembered that the ones who concocted this whole plan were the world's expert on gamma radiation and the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist who had temporarily privatized world peace.
A slight scoff passed through Tony's lips as he raised a brow and craned his head to look back at the teenager, "Are you trying to encourage me, Parker?"
Heat flashed up Peter's face as he scratched his neck and immediately turned on his heel, "It's not like you need that! But there, you have your second opinion until Dr. Banner comes back, I'm just going to go and maybe tell Thor what Urban Dictionary is—"
"Wait."
Despite everything, Peter did just that, internally hating how willing he was to listen to this man.
"Yeah…?" he asked weakly.
"You left your phone here," Tony gestured to a table on the far left, "Be grateful that I didn't take it apart and make you a Tamagotchi instead. Don't leave your stuff lying around my lab."
Peter snorted softly even as he recollected his StarkFone – a 'company gift' from the same man who had just threatened to dismantle it – and started to head towards the elevator. He shook his head and couldn't help but let a snide comment pass through his lips. "Well gee, thanks, Dad."
He didn't even bother to look back, far too busy checking his texts to see if he got anything new from Gwen. To be honest, he wasn't sure when he even had a chance to leave this in Tony's lab, but he guessed that he was in and out of there enough to have forgotten it on accident.
Unfortunately, it was this that made him miss the strangled look crossed with confusion pass through the billionaire's face.
"It's only funny when I say it," Tony coughed, turning back to the computer to drown his thoughts out with boat loads of work.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Peter had felt a chill run down his spine.
Prying his eyes away from the computer screen, blinking and waiting for them to adjust to the dark, he called out curiously.
"JARVIS?"
"Yes, Mr. Parker?" and Peter never thought that hearing a British, wise-cracking AI would ever be quite so comforting.
"Uh…" he hesitated, realizing that he didn't have an actual question, "Is… everything okay?"
"All is quiet on the western front, as they say, sir. Nothing of alarm."
"Oh…" Peter knit his brows together in confusion. "Are you sure?"
"Certainly."
Nodding faintly, he let the thought of going out to check the place flit through his head.
However before he thought better of it, he simply shut down his computer and started to get himself ready for bed. Too long on the computer, he thought. It wasn't good for his imagination to be paired with his superhuman abilities. It sounded exactly like a recipe for disaster.
It was the first and last time that Peter ever ignored what his enhanced instincts told him.
Peter nearly just walked out of the kitchen at that moment.
He'd gotten used to pretty ridiculous mornings in the Avengers floor of the Stark Tower, he really had. Some days it would be Natasha giving Steve complex orders on how she liked her omelet just to see if he could handle it (and to this day, he always could) with Clint glaring sullenly from atop the fridge as if he wasn't invited to the party. Other days it would be Thor smashing coffee cups until he caught the eyes of a very annoyed Bruce Banner, apparently threatened enough to cease and wait for one of Tony's robots to clean it up. They'd gotten to the point where they never talked about the day that Steve decided to make everyone waffles and let Tony help though—
It still didn't have much in comparison to this disaster.
From what he could understand, just from the doorway of the largest kitchen the tower had to offer, Thor was now openly wrestling with the coffee machine – he'd pulled it right out of the wall – with Natasha and Steve on pacifying duty, even though Peter was pretty sure neither of them was certified to help with electrical work. Clint? Clint had put some chairs side by side and was now lying across the row of them, sound asleep on one side of the table. Meanwhile Bruce, the only one who even had the slightest chance of being able to fix things sat on the opposite end, feet propped up on Clint's exposed lower back, cup in one hand and the morning paper in the other.
Agonized, he glanced at the clock and noted that it was already 8:14 AM, leaving him 16 minutes to get into the elevator and report into Miss Potts before she declared him late. He hated being declared late. Ever since moving in with the Avengers, it meant having to clean all the dishes.
He hated to imagine how much worse it would be if Thor got angry enough to pull out the kitchen sink.
"Uh… Dr. Banner?" he stepped forward and adjusted his coat, "Is there any chance that maybe we can start to defuse—"
The only response Bruce gave was the raising of his cup. The aroma of tea wafted up to Peter's nose and he knew immediately that they wouldn't be getting any help from Bruce this early in the morning. It would risk possibly leveling the entire floor.
So Peter went through the five stages of grief very, very quickly—
(Denial: "Ohhh my god, this can't be happening there's no way that a Norse God is actually getting angry at the coffee machine don't they have better things to be worrying about like Valhalla and rainbow bridges—"
Anger: "I'm going to be late! I'm going to be late because I had to start working for Tony Stark and he had to recruit me into his super-secret boy band and maybe I should just drop everything. This is absolutely ridiculous and I won't stand for it anymore."
Bargaining: "Maybe if I tell Miss Potts what happened? Or maybe if I made a deal with them that they'd do their own dishes if I stay behind—or I could just ask Mr. Stark to buy a new coffee maker? Like the easiest coffee maker ever—the coffee maker they'd make for toddlers if toddlers drank coffee and it would have Elmo on it."
Depression: "So this is the life of a freak, isn't it? I'm never going to be able to get through my day properly and my job won't work out and even the side job hardly manages to pay. In the end I might as well just stay on the street corner and do magic tricks like running up walls and people can take pity on the poor freaky hobo. Then I'll have a really bad movie done on me and it will be a flop at the box office."
Acceptance: "I'm stuck with these motherhuggers, aren't I?")
—and proceeded to angrily run a hand through his hair, letting out a calming breath and turned on his heel.
Just before whipping back around and making the appropriate hand gestures to let a few strings of web fly out from beneath his sleeves, at least temporarily pinning one of Thor's hands to the cupboard, a few of them aimed at his shoulder to immobilize it and keep him from thrashing around any further.
The angry look he sent Peter's way seemed to remind the boy why exactly this was the God of Thunder, "Young Parker! Do not involve yourself in this affair for you shall regret it!"
"Affair?" Peter barely bit back the teasing that threatened to spill over at the word choice, instead focusing on the major issue, "Uh, what happened?"
"The son of Odin has been scorned! Ignored! Forgotten!"
'So you finally noticed what you did to your brother?' was on the tip of his tongue and threatened to fall off the deep end before Natasha intervened.
"Oh calm down, Thor, it has to be a malfunction of some sort," the redhead huffed angrily as she still tried to pry the Asgardian's meaty fingers from where they held the coffee machine with a death grip, "None of us can get in contact with JARVIS either. He's probably offline and it figures that Stark didn't even bother to tell us."
"Wait, JARVIS is inoperational?" Peter's brow furrowed in response as he stepped forward, helping Natasha to uncurl Thor's fingers as Steve continued to have the task of just holding the God of Thunder's arm in place before someone got hit in the face with the appliance.
"Well it's either that or he's decided to pick a really sour time to ignore us all," Steve sighed, voice a little strained from the amount of effort it took even the super soldier to hold Thor back.
"Sir JARVIS is being immature."
"Like you're in any place to talk, Thor," Peter taunted with a well-meaning grin, earning an incredibly befuddled look from the god. "Come on, machines malfunction sometimes…"
Except in the back of his mind he was just repeating to himself 'but not Stark Tech, especially Tony's personal Artificial Intelligence.'
"Where did you say Mr. Stark went off to again…?" Peter asked once they managed to finally get the coffee maker back from Thor, setting it onto the counter. Then now that the god was mostly pacified, Peter was just about to walk over and cut the webbing to free his hand before he just gave it a good yank.
Thor had his hand back.
He also had the cupboard door off its hinges.
Steve ran a hand over his face just before taking the piece of wood out of Thor's hands, "We didn't. But he's not in the tower and Pepper doesn't seem to know where he is either…"
"O… kay…." the teenager raised a brow at the nonchalant behavior, "And we're not going to bother inquiring where he is?"
"He's not answering any of our calls either," Bruce finally chirped up from the table, flipping to the next page in his newspaper.
"… so the plan of action is?"
Wordlessly, everyone in the room looked to Steve, expecting him to have the answer to Peter's question.
Looking mildly uncomfortable, Steve sighed and shook his head, "We all know Tony kind of has days like these… but I'm worried about why JARVIS is offline and we don't have an answer. That's new. Pepper normally has an idea of where he is, too…. so I say let it stew until lunch and if he's not wandering back for food by then, we alert SHIELD and put on a search for him."
Natasha and Thor seemed to agree with that easily enough, though the Norse God still seemed to look a little sour.
Peter couldn't help but wonder if this had something to do with his odd feeling the night before… but hadn't he been able to speak with JARVIS then? There was no alert of anything odd—it's not like Tony didn't play the part of Houdini sometimes in the morning only to come back in the afternoon with a model or two on his arm and enough gaudy ornaments that looked like he'd been to Mardi Gras.
Figuring that he now needed a distraction, he met Thor's eyes and put on a grin, "Miss Potts tends to make me do a coffee run for her in the morning. I'll pick up an order for you too, okay, big guy?"
Thor was in the middle of an eager nod when Bruce finally stood, brushing past the god and putting the kettle on again.
"Isn't that your second pot already, Bruce?" Natasha's brows knitted together as she shut the fridge door with a glass of cranberry juice.
"Brewing the third, actually," the doctor stretched and sighed, still seeming just as tense, "but I'm going to need a lot of tea if I'm expected to make it to lunch as opposed to The Other Guy making a guest appearance."
Peter swallowed quietly and excused himself to finally get to work.
Tony had better return soon.
Tony hadn't returned by lunch.
Miss Potts had been understanding enough to let Peter take the rest of the day off, leaving him rushing up to the Avengers floor as soon as he'd gotten the text from Natasha that they were going to eat.
Everyone was awake now, even Hawkeye who was reading through some documents that were clearly stamped CONFIDENTAL. In essence, Peter figured that they were practically begging to be read.
"Keep it moving, Parker," Clint murmured without even looking back when Peter started to look over his shoulder.
Totally unfair. He wasn't supposed to have Spidey Senses.
Settling himself at the table, breathing in the sweet smell of Natasha and Steve's combined cooking – he could tell that both of them were at it by the way that the air had a slight spice to it, courtesy of the Black Widow – he listened to Thor and Bruce discuss what they could possibly have happened to Tony.
"The thing is that all his systems are down in the lab," Bruce sighed, "I can't even get into them without JARVIS being online. Without him, everything's on total lockdown except for basic electricity. DUM-E and U are at a total stand-still too."
The Norse god's brow furrowed in response, "Do you believe that Stark turned him off himself?"
"He's actually the only one who can from what I know," Bruce sighed. "Really, the only time JARVIS is ever to lock himself down is supposed to be when Tony's kidnapped—"
"Kidnapped?" Peter scoffed, "Are you kidding me? Didn't we learn from Afghanistan that kidnapping Tony Stark just makes him revolutionize his own tech and come out in a blaze of glory in the form of a high-tech prosthesis?"
A soft snort denoted the entrance of Captain America and the Black Widow, Natasha raising a slim brow as she settled the food on the table, "You actually call it that?"
"I was told that I wouldn't be given any more dinner if I made another tin man joke," Peter sighed before taking some of the food onto his plate. "So have you guys alerted SHIELD yet? Because I talked to Miss Potts and she's starting to get a bit concerned…"
"We were going to discuss the exact steps we're going to take over food and then act on it as soon as we're done," Steve furrowed his brow, "We have no idea where Tony is so he could still be pulling our leg for all we know."
"But even when he's pulling our leg, JARVIS is around to let us know what he's up to," Clint murmured, "It's a pain, really. Don't know what you've got until you have to pop your own popcorn anymore."
"If that's the worst of your problems, I think we can leave him offline for a while longer," Natasha glared at him from across the table.
"Where would we even start?" Peter asked, trying to steer the conversation back on course even though he definitely knew what Clint was talking about. "The security data, including videos, are totally loss to us with JARVIS missing in action."
"And I'd really, really, really," Bruce stressed, "prefer that SHIELD not try to bust in and hack into Tony's systems."
"Seconded," the teenager quietly picked at his food.
To the pleasure of them both, it seemed that the two SHIELD agents at the table weren't terribly offended; instead they were actually nodding in slight agreement.
It didn't have to be said exactly how dangerous Tony's inventions were. They were already dubious in his hands but at least he knew exactly how to control all of it and keep it properly under lock. If anyone else – whether they be the government or SHIELD – got in and started being able to take it apart… who knew what the world could be in for? By then, everyone had read up on the accident at the EXPO when the Air Force had gotten their hands on one of the Iron Man suits and then handed it over to Hammer Industries. No one wanted a repeat of that, especially not when Nick Fury himself was guilty of keeping secrets from them.
"I hate to break up tea time but we'd like to know why we no longer have eyes and ears in Stark Tower."
There was one of those secrets walking in the door right now.
"Coulson? How are you walking? I heard that your RV blew up in the last mission," Clint asked—rudely, by the way. His mouth was still full of food.
"I got lucky," the agent shrugged lopsidedly, which was really the best he could do with one arm caught in a sling as it was.
Nobody decided to question it seeing as how the last time he got lucky, he ended up surviving Loki's attack. Yeah, that worked well enough for them. Besides, they were all working on a group theory that Coulson was secretly better trained than even Natasha while being just as indestructible as Thor.
"Anyway," he snapped them out of their reverie, "it seems that almost all communications are down in your floor of the tower. We thought that Stark might've just gotten wise on us but a call to Miss Potts clarified that no one seems to know where he is."
"We were going to tell you after curry," Peter offered, raising a fork full of food as if the agent wasn't able to see it well enough.
He only received the man's unimpressed gaze. "That's cute, Parker. Now do you need to open up the train station so that the food can chugga chugga into your choo-choo?"
"Lay off the kid, Phil," Steve immediately commanded Agent Coulson's attention just by opening his mouth. "It was my plan of action. We don't know if Tony's just wandering off again and he'll be back or if this is something serious… we've been crossing our fingers and hoping for the former, just because JARVIS is our guide for all things Tony and he's gone missing too."
"Off, Steve," Natasha corrected gently. "He's just turned off."
"Right," Captain America rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he recalled that JARVIS was not, in fact, a real person, "That."
"… so we've got a missing billionaire and his mechanical butler is no longer responsive?" Phil sighed and helped himself to a seat at the Avengers dining table. His gaze drifted to Bruce, "And Stark didn't give you a safe code of some sort to wake JARVIS up?"
"None," Bruce sighed and took another long sip of his tea. Clint got up to prepare another kettle that might save all their lives. "JARVIS is never meant to be offline… unless something's happened to Tony. Or Tony turned him off himself… except I don't know why that would be the case unless someone pissed him off."
"I think the only one who can answer that question for us is Stark then," Natasha sighed and finished off the remains of her plate.
"Just watch. We'll find him with a killer hangover in Vegas. Probably trapped on the roof," Clint scoffed.
Peter raised a brow at the bad movie reference.
"I'll get SHIELD on it. If he's been in the public eye in the past 24 hours, I'm sure someone shot a picture of him making a fool out of himself," Coulson sighed and stood from the table. "Also, someone please turn on the TV."
Thor's brows knitted together. "Wherefore, Son of Coul?"
"Between you and me," the agent raised a brow at them as he stepped into the elevator, "the only people who have beaten SHIELD in the thrilling game of 'Where's Stark?' are the guys at TMZ."
Clint snorted, "So should I get the Quinjet set with the coordinates to Caesar's Palace?"
The only teenager among them opened his mouth to speak. "I threw a wish in the well. Don't ask me, I'll never tell. I looked to you as it fell and now you're in my way."
Silence.
Peter decided that there was no way that could be coming from his pocket. No way could – your stare was holding. Ripped jeans, skin was showing. Hot night, wind was – that noise be coming from his pocket.
Oh dear gods, that was coming from his pocket.
Lips pursing into a thin line, he shifted in his seat to start pulling his phone from his pocket. Hey, I just met you, it sang to him and he did his best to ignore the way that Clint's forehead had met the wood of the table and his shoulders were shaking. And this is crazy did not even begin to cover it when Natasha had a sliver of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and—
The caller ID blinked at him with the picture of a smug smile that he just wanted to punch out.
Daddy was calling.
"Oh you motherhugger," he growled before begrudgingly answering the call, knowing full well who it was. "You took my phone!"
"Parker, is that any way to greet your Daddy after he just got kidnapped?" Tony groaned on the other end of the line.
Ignoring the concerned look of all the other Avengers, the questions and comments of 'is that Tony?' and 'Young Parker, my Jane informed me of a function called Speaker Phone', Peter scoffed into the line, "Kidnapped? How do you get kidnapped with your phone?"
Natasha gave the slight inclination of her head that implied 'he has a point'.
"Well it's a lot of good that my phone does me when the air waves are being scrambled by magic," the billionaire sighed before grumbling something about how it was impossible to get a limo to the sidewalk in New York at lunch time.
"Magic?" Peter repeated dumbly.
"Yes, magic. But look, I already told Pepper that I'm fine and she reminded me that I guess I have some sort of responsibility to call you guys," Tony sighed. "So did I miss lunch?"
"You just got kidnapped and you're asking about lunch—"
"Uncle Steve's delicious cooking first, interrogation and debriefing and all that mussy boring stuff later. For what it counts, I have every part of my body that still matters to me. He might've taken a kidney while I wasn't looking though."
"He?"
"Oops, look at that, a wild Happy!" A pause. "And by the way, I didn't take your phone; I relocated it after you left it unattended. It was just asking for a little TLC."
And the line went dead.
Peter looked up just as Steve returned to the table, running a hand through his hair. "Well I just called Phil. No need to look for Tony, it seems. Pepper confirmed that she sent out Happy to go get him… but she knows as much about the situation as we do."
"So are we calling off The Great Stark Hunt?" Natasha sighed and started to help Steve clear up the table, seeing as the rest of the manchildren at the table weren't making a move to do so.
"Oh no, we can still probably set him loose in the forest and take out our frustration that way," Clint hummed.
Bruce instead shook his head, easily looking the most exhausted out of all of them. He ran a hand through his curly hair and stood from the table, muttering something about how he seriously needs a vacation and started to head for the elevator.
The Norse God among them just sighed.
"I merely hope that the Man of Iron knows where we may locate Sir JARVIS."
Peter merely decided to wash his hands of the entire mess for the rest of the day, making it a point to change his ringtone back to what it was before Mr. Stark got his hands on it, making up his missed hours to Miss Potts and pointedly ignoring any of the texts he got from the man who had more or less forced himself into Peter's father position.
Unfortunately, he did eventually find himself back in the company of the man just as he was on his way to bed.
"Oh come on, I thought you teenagers liked that kind of pop filth," Tony mocked as soon as Peter exited the elevator. The man had the gall to be at the bar counter, pouring himself a glass of scotch as if he hadn't created a major stir that morning.
Peter didn't even bother to answer that, giving his employer a very even stare. (Nothing betrayed the fact that Peter did, in fact, know all the lyrics. He decided that Gwen would be an acceptable excuse just in case.)
Putting up an offended look, Tony lied, "I could fire you for giving me the cold shoulder, you know."
"Just to have Miss Potts rehire me," Peter sighed before finally settling himself down on the couch, head falling back along the top of it.
"Only if I neglect to give her specific instructions not to," Tony batted in return, before looking over the exhausted young man contemplatively. Then he just had to ask, "So you're not going to ask what happened to me?"
"I figured the invitation wouldn't take that long," Peter lost the battle of keeping a smile off his face. "You really like talking about yourself, Mr. Stark."
"Well you've got quite a mouth on yourself too, kid," the billionaire snorted but did sit down on one of the bar stools. There was a momentary pause before he went on to say, "I actually got a visit from Loki."
"… last night."
"How'd you guess?"
Unable to really keep from fidgeting in his seat, Peter answered in a quieter voice, "I had a sense that something was wrong… but I asked JARVIS and he said that everything was fine."
"Yeah?" Tony cocked his head to the side. "JARVIS, do you have memory of this?"
"None, sir. The last conversation I had with Mr. Parker was when he asked me if Cinnabon was still open at 11 PM."
"It was a valid question," Peter defended himself before blinking. "Whoa! Hey JARVIS, welcome back."
"You have my thanks, Mr. Parker. Although I must say that Mr. Odinson still gave me the heartiest welcome of all. It's only mildly disheartening that I think he only likes me for my ability to provide him with coffee."
"Baby, I still love you," Tony consoled the AI before moving on, "but that makes a bit more sense. I turned off JARVIS as soon as the God of Mischief showed up in my shop. Even though he's Asgardian, it's clear that he's a bit sharper and better with tech than our friend Thor."
It took a moment to bounce around in his spider-bitten brain but eventually it dawned on Tony's poor protégé. "So I was talking to Loki?"
"Loki posing as JARVIS, I guess," the billionaire swirled around the alcohol in his glass, "You didn't spill anything important, did you?"
The firm shake of Peter's head was convincing enough for Tony.
So the billionaire was left running a hand through his hair and sighed with relief, "Good."
Perhaps it was the first time that Peter saw him clearly that day. He was glad that Mr. Stark seemed to be alright.
Except that was the weirdest thing. Normally after a tussle with Loki, the Avengers looked at least a little bit beat up. There was that time where even Natasha came back with an angry bruise, Steve with a fairly harsh cut. Yet despite his haggard day of being kidnapped, the man before him looked spotless.
"So what'd you and Loki talk about? Sight-seeing in the Bahamas?" the teenager asked incredulously, unable to bite down his suspicion.
"Well if you'd actually been at the debriefing maybe you would know," Tony raised his brows in response, enjoying the chances he got to ruthlessly taunt Peter.
Rolling his eyes and realizing that he probably wouldn't get a response, Peter got up from the couch and started to head toward his room, "Sorry, I was too busy thinking of how to run away from home."
Another confused look flashed on Tony's face before he could only call after him, "You could actually hurt my feelings if you keep that up!"
"Yeah, but I won't," Peter sighed and pressed onward to his room.
Back at the bar counter, Tony's shoulders slumped in response before he downed the rest of his glass. The only ones to catch his movement of his fingers trailing beneath the collar of his shirt, pressing against his collar bone were JARVIS' cameras and a pair of amused, green eyes.
A hand caught Tony's throat, pushing him back against the bar counter, another hand darting forth to press a finger to the billionaire's lips.
"A debriefing?" Loki laughed, "Now Stark, I thought that between us, I was meant to be the liar."
If Peter cared to notice, things got a little weird after that.
It was really only after the fact that he wondered how on earth he managed to miss it all.
"No Parker, I didn't get shit on by a radioactive pigeon," Clint huffed as he entered the elevator, looking at the teenager as if he sprouted four more legs. "Keep your origin story to yourself."
"Then how'd you do that thing where you caught all the baseballs without even looking?" Peter knit his brows together, camera still around his neck. Although he appreciated that Agent Barton took up the spot that Steve normally had to keep Peter company during baseball games—Peter really didn't like baseball and had gotten in trouble more than once for focusing on Gwen instead of actually taking pictures—it was hard to focus on the game when Clint kept pulling superhuman feats.
The archer merely chuckled as the elevator opened up to the training room floor, "That's confidential information. This is my stop. You get some sleep, kid." He gave the teenager a well-meaning nudge before exiting.
"You've been hanging out with Coulson too much," Peter murmured before pressing the Close Doors button to shut out Clint's laughter.
Instead Peter just let his back rest against the elevator wall, letting his mind wander. Tomorrow was his scheduled monthly visit to Aunt May so he supposed that he should probably pick up some sort of food on the way. Maybe eggs to see if she still got the joke.
He steeled himself, mentally preparing for her inevitably asking why on earth Steve wouldn't be around. It'd only make her fret more if he told her that he was in Afghanistan with Natasha to take care of some undercover business. What was a little more irritating was that he was pretty sure he missed Steve the most.
Peter missed the way that he could make the American relic light up just by addressing him as 'Uncle Steve'. He also missed his cooking.
Okay, mostly the cooking.
It was with his mind focused on maple syrup and blueberries that he wandered out of the elevator quietly, just until some voices caught his attention—
"So what's the damage that we're expecting tomorrow? Are you going to kidnap the city mayor?"
A scoff and a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. "Do not act as though you are suddenly worthy to be privy to my plans."
"Uhh, Mr. Stark?" Peter spoke up then, wandering over to the living room. There was a sudden shift – he couldn't put his finger on what it was, but he knew it was there – and… was the TV always on?
A deep voice spoke from the TV, not unlike Mr. Stark's and seeing as the living room was empty, Peter assumed he must've misheard. Chalking it up to one of those weird things that just happens in the tower, he shut off the television and resumed his walk to his room.
The next day, the mayor of the city was safe.
Instead, the Avengers had to save his secretary.
"Natashaaaaaaa," Peter whined at the ceiling before rolling on his stomach. His voice barely managed to filter through the pillow as he continued to complain, "Why do I suddenly have all your shifts for grocery shopping this week?"
Even without the visual, he knew that her lips were curling into a smile as her voice came in through the speakers, "Well I was just hoping to return the little gift you left me that one time."
Although purposely kept vague, Peter knew that she was talking about the one time he cleaned up a bunch of criminals off the street and left them all trapped in a web, the web itself in the shape of the Black Widow emblem. Normally he alerted the cops himself, but he was already late for a date with Gwen that day, so….
"Didn't I say sorry?" he huffed.
"Who said anything about being sorry? Like I said, it's a gift," she laughed, "from arachnid to arachnid. Now tuck yourself in for the night, Peter."
He grumbled in response, honestly hating how everyone in the tower was getting more and more used to treating him like a kid.
"Oh, and before I forget," she hummed, "don't let the bed bugs bite."
The line went dead after that, Peter groaning into his pillows imported from Paris. To be honest, he was normally okay with grocery shopping duty… but that's because he normally had Natasha or Steve as his partners.
Now that he had Natasha's shifts as well, he'd get to deal with Thor's famous tendency to clean out grocery stores despite constant attempts to pry the boxes away from his fingers. It was considered that he too had a mastery over some type of sorcery with the way that random products would suddenly appear in the cart just in time to make it to the check-out counter.
Perhaps it was his desire to demonstrate that he was a functioning adult (or at least as functioning as everyone else in the Tower) or it might be a rebellious streak, but Peter decided that he was very much against 'tucking himself in for the night'. With a swoop of his legs, he was already halfway to his door and heading out into the hallway.
Again, voices.
Which was even weirder since it was already past midnight.
"You're making that face again, baby."
"What face?"
"The face you make when you think I'm not looking. Though to be honest, it's kind of cute."
"…. you are a foolish—"
"Uh?" Peter just barely managed to speak up before he entered the kitchen, finding the lights already on and Mr. Stark in his pajama pants… which he was inspecting as if he was surprised to find them there.
"Parker?" the man looked up and raised his brow. "What are you doing up?"
"I'm seventeen."
Tony considered the answer for a moment before nodding, "Yeah, makes sense."
"Was there… someone here?" Peter blinked, awkwardly noticing the marks on his boss's neck and his disheveled hair. It was really, really awkward to acknowledge that your boss was a playboy and had been since his famous split with Miss Potts—which was overly exaggerated since they were still had a great working and friendly relationship, unsurprising since Mr. Stark needed her like air—and it was even weirder since he started living in Stark Tower.
"Tonight? Nah," Tony shook his head and ran a hand through his messy hair, "Just me."
'Then does your voice always change pitch so you can have conversations with yourself?' Peter wanted to ask, but instead found himself shaking his head. Mr. Stark was still an enigma even to him. So instead he just dug through the fridge, found a few cups of pudding—oh hell yes—and gave a wave.
"Then I won't interrupt you and your mid-life crisis, Mr. Stark," he grinned before running off into the hallway.
Once settled in front of his computer desk, spinning around in it and sticking a spoonful of sweet, delicious, heavenly, chocolate pudding into his mouth, Peter wondered if he should've questioned further.
Except he could recall the way that Mr. Stark's voice sounded different when he spoke to whoever was opposite to him—and he wasn't dumb enough to think that the man really was all alone—and thought that it was a good change. Like what happened when you caught a knight without his armor, at ease and that much more like everyone around him.
Whatever – maybe whoever, even – was making him this way… perhaps it was about time that something good happened to Tony Stark.
Then, before trying to figure out why he even bothered to care this much, Peter crawled into bed and started on creating his blanket cocoon.
It didn't take a genius to figure it out.
However since Peter was actually bordering on prodigy levels, he managed to figure it out a bit faster than everyone else on the team. Maybe it was because he was the only one constantly at the Tower whereas everyone else had their separate missions and he was able to catch more, but it only took one more night for him to figure it out—
"What's next on the evil agenda, babe? Empire State Building?"
"You make it sound as though I have some sort of grand plan for your meager planet."
"Sorry, are you saying you don't?"
"… Your mortal realm no longer has any worth to me as a whole."
"What is that supposed to—"
"Listen I'm sorry to break it up," Peter interrupted and stepped into the living room, finding Tony splayed out comfortably on the couch, arm outstretched where a certain person probably inhabited just a moment ago, "But Mr. Stark do you know what you're doing?"
The billionaire let the disgruntled look fade away and for once looked quite seriously at the boy in front of him, as if searching Peter's eyes for something. Then he seemed to relax once he found whatever he was looking for and shrugged, "Come on Peter, when was the last time I didn't know what I was doing?"
"When you tried to take apart one of Hawkeye's arrows and ended up zapping yourself in the face."
"That was forever ago!"
"It was this afternoon, Mr. Stark," he sighed and shook his head, running a hand through his messy brown hair, having come fresh from tinkering with his own gadgets in the lab, "Just… be careful about who you get your healing elixirs from, okay?"
A brow rose at that, "Don't you have the positions mixed up here, Parker? Could've sworn that you're supposed to be the one under my watch—"
Peter couldn't help but chuckle in response. "I don't know what it's like to have a parent around, Mr. Stark." He was pleased when the other's face didn't crumple up in sympathy like what happened with other adults, continuing on, "But I babysat all the time around my neighborhood when I needed the money."
Tony's shoulders deflated a bit before he shook his head in disbelief, running a hand through his own hair (and Peter denied that he might've picked up the habit from the man in front of him), "You're one of a kind, Parker."
A smile worked its way onto the young man's face as he just shrugged and seemed to lack a shred of shame, "What can I say? You wouldn't have hired me if I was normal."
"Sometimes I wonder why I hired you at all…" Tony huffed before shooing him off with a hand, "Now go on. Get, you little cockblock."
"Father of the Year," Peter gave two thumbs-up before laughing and walking off to his room, glad that the air was cleared at least.
With a great sigh, the supposed "Father of the Year" fell back against the couch and sighed.
"He is so lucky I like him."
"Mr. Stark!"
Tony didn't even look up when a red-faced teenager stormed into his room, making Peter wonder how often it was that he was yelled at by people he claimed to care for.
"Hey, Parker," he eventually straightened and lifted his goggles, whistling low, "You need a glass of water or something? Looks like you just got in a fight with a bowl of chili peppers and lost."
Flushing further, Peter made angry hand gestures as he tried to figure out exactly what he was supposed to say. Eventually, after his lip was thoroughly red as well from biting down on it, he just exploded.
"Why is my ringtone now 'Hollaback Girl'?!"
It took a second for the genius brain of Tony Stark to process it but as soon as he did, he laughed and he laughed hard. Then he winked, "Clever, right? You're head over heels for that Gwen Stacy girl, right? Well, it's Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani."
Peter's jaw dropped.
"Oh my god, my boss is a manchild," he threw his hands up in the air and started pacing, "I'm so sorry for doubting you, Miss Potts. You were right, you're right, you're always right, your word is law."
Tony snorted. "If you didn't pick up on that much from the get-go, I'm having second-thoughts on hiring you."
"I didn't even meet you until I was working for Stark Industries for three weeks!"
A cell phone ring – okay no, not really the Standard Ring, it was naturally Iron Man by Black Sabbath but who else in that room would have enough ego to set that as their ringtone – interrupted the rest of Peter's tirade.
Tony held up grease-slicked hands and shrugged. He wouldn't be able to get it.
The asshole wasn't even going to acknowledge the fact that JARVIS could easily remote link himself in and answer it for him instead.
Grumbling and rather irked that the money that went to Aunt May came from this man, Peter picked up the phone with a flourish, "Mr. Stark isn't available at the moment. Please call back in maybe six hours or so. He might've finished holing himself up in the lab by the—Hiiiiii, Miss Potts."
It took a little bit more effort to ignore Tony's laughter than he would've liked, but at least he got to talk to a familiar voice and was dutiful enough to nod along with the instructions. Simple things and chores that came with living with the Avengers, he supposed.
Then he sighed as the call ended, closing out the phone call screen and glaring sullenly at the incredibly amused Iron Man.
"So did she chew you out? Let me guess, you have to take Thor out for a walk and teach Cap how to use the XBOX. What else—"
Not interested in listening to the ensuing rant, Peter let his eyes flicker back to the screen of the personalized StarkFone belonging to the mad man that was still speaking.
Perhaps he shouldn't have.
Sadly, he did, and in doing so he found a number that he didn't recognize but the area code was still distinctly New York. And as opposed to any sort of proper name, there was only 'L'.
His heart fell into his stomach and he knew that he shouldn't do anything about it.
But before he could do anything, the number was already etched into his memory and he put the phone right back where it was, heading straight for the elevator. Occupied as his mind was, buzzing with energy and adrenaline, he didn't even notice that the steel doors shut behind him, Tony still mid-sentence.
Cocking his head to the side, the billionaire hummed.
"Something I said?"
That evening found Peter sitting on his bed, criss-cross-apple-sauce just like back in school, and staring down at his phone.
He'd punched in all the numbers from earlier, the image of them still clear in his mind.
Somewhere in his gut, he knew that he shouldn't be involving himself. Whatever Mr. Stark really got into, he should be able to handle on his own, right? Except he remembered newspapers and conversations with Miss Potts, tales of Tony blocking out the rest of the world when he was at a loss, right down to blowing up his own home—
Was that somewhere along the same lines of danger as 'seeing' a super villain on a regular basis?
The big issue though, was that Peter had never even seen the guy, because no this one was too tricky for that, too slippery to be caught in the act when he didn't want to be. Sure, Mr. Stark had seemed to trust him enough not to blab but—
But Peter could get in a whole different kind of trouble if he did end up doing this.
Mr. Stark could end up kicking him out, making him lose his spot as an Unofficial Avenger as well as Official Employee of Stark Industries and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that. Oddly enough, he'd gotten used to this kind of life.
Used to the kind of life where he would randomly get hot dogs with billionaires, go to baseball games with assassins and super soldiers, take genius scientists and Norse Gods to the supermarket, and still managed to get up in the morning and sit at the table with them for breakfast.
… but if he didn't do this, there might not be a billionaire to get hot dogs with anymore.
That was convincing enough.
Gulping quietly, Peter pressed the glaring green Call button and held it up to his ear.
One ring left his heart beating faster because he was doing this, he was doing this—
Two rings.
Three.
A click.
. . .
There weren't any more rings after that, not even a dial tone or a message recording. Peter sat there with the phone at his ear for another good minute, just listening to the silence.
When he disconnected, he finally heaved a breath.
Nothing…
Something was definitely up the next morning.
For one, Peter wasn't nudged roughly awake by Clint lifting the mattress and getting him to roll right off it or Thor giving a bellowing greeting. Two, there wasn't the smell of Steve's amazing waffles, but instead something disgustingly musky. Three, everything felt pretty distorted even for the Spider-Man. Not to mention the feeling of all his blood rushing to his head—
Then he realized it.
That 'something' was him.
He jolted awake, suddenly squirming in binds that wouldn't loosen up no matter what happened. Even though he swung his body to and fro, the momentum wasn't taking him anywhere. When he finally adjusted to his position, he looked up and noticed why.
It wasn't any kind of elemental solid holding him, it was glowing, transparent, and incredibly menacing for something colored such a shade of green. He gulped.
"It's really rather funny, you know," a voice hummed from somewhere in the shadows, prompting Peter to squint until he could find an outline, "He did the same thing when I… borrowed him from you all."
"If something like this is funny to you, I really question your sense of humor."
Peter could never really keep his mouth shut.
But even his throat went dry as Loki stepped out of the shadows, every part of him on edge, right down to the razor sharp grin. "Of course you do. I don't expect a mind as immature as yours to get it."
"You know what's immature?" Boy, oh boy, were his brain and mouth at odds with each other. "Stealing away the mayor's secretary just to be contrary."
Sleek, armor-adorned shoulders merely shrugged, "I'd rather not be hearing that from someone who just graduated from diapers."
"Well you know—"
"No," Loki suddenly interrupted him and oh, there the god was. He took a step and teleported himself the rest of the way, just as his foot touched the ground, his face right by Peter's—right where the boy was hanging and risked a broken skull if suddenly dropped onto the hard concrete of the warehouse. "You should know that you do not try to pull a juvenile prank on the God of Mischief, Peter Parker."
Well there went his hopes and dreams that maybe Loki had no idea who he was. Now it was officially time to panic.
"Does it help my case any if I say that it wasn't a… uh, 'juvenile prank'? You didn't even get to hear what I was going to say. I swear I wasn't going to ask if your refrigerator was running—"
"Enough of your incessant rambling," the god scoffed before settling a freezing cold gaze on the teenager, "You have not even a clue how much of that I must already deal with in my day."
"Oh no trust me, I work for the guy. I can't even say anything when he's rambling," Peter tried to shrug and fail.
A bit of amusement flashed in the trickster's eyes then, "Yes… yes you do work for him, and imagine the pain he will feel when it's made incredibly clear that he utterly failed to protect you from me. Perhaps then that stupid man will get the idea that he ought to just stop pestering me."
"Can't we… you know, talk about this? Supervillain to superhe—okay, nix that one. How about people who have to deal with Mr. Stark's craziness? I'm sure we can find a bonding point or two on that," he gulped.
"Bonding?" Loki scoffed, "I promise you that I have had enough bonding with you paltry mortals—"
"Oh baby, at least the sex was good, wasn't it?"
Peter just wished that he had his hands free to cover his ears and eyes, because he knew that voice and he could recognize the silhouette of the man that was just walking in through the door without a care in the world.
Tony didn't even have his armor.
Loki practically growled, "Would it kill you to merely leave me be?!"
"Whoa whoa whoa," Tony raised his hands in defense, "Last I checked, you're the one who took my kid, sweet cheeks. I'd really like to have him back. Mostly because Pepper freaked out when he didn't show up with her coffee this morning and you know how she gets without her caffeine."
From his binds, Peter nodded sagely. Miss Potts was frightening when she didn't have her morning coffee.
Not that the god seemed to care, scoffing, "Oh. Of course you're merely here to save him."
"Merely—didn't you just tell me to leave you alone?"
"Yes! And yet you insist upon calling me each night—"
"Well last time you left, you broke my TV!" the billionaire crossed his arms and frowned, "And then you don't show up on the Avengers radar for two weeks? Yeah, I'm wondering where the hell you went!"
Peter just huffed. 'I threw the Wii remote too hard' was such a flimsy excuse. Thor bought it, but he was wondering what the real story was. So it was Loki.
"Why bother concerning yourself, Stark?" the Liesmith spoke, all venom. "You ought to just return to your pampered life, drink yourself into another stupor and drunkenly wander into the arms of one of the harlots that would just die to have the chance with you."
Both mortals found themselves confused at that and despite all their constant denials of similarity, they gave out a synchronized "… what?"
As if he complete forgot that Peter was there, Loki narrowed his eyes at Tony, "I do not share, Stark."
The tension in the room was palpable.
"… oh my god," Tony ran his hands over his face.
"Seriously!" Peter chirped in, wriggling in his binds again, "Your god and you can go ahead and have your tiff, but does he really have to bring poor unsuspecting teenagers into it?"
"I am not his god—"
"Well then I'm not your mortal!"
"Please!" and he genuinely wondered what kind of day it was when he, Peter Parker, was the voice of reason. "Please get over yourselves and go back to doing that weird thing where you settle down around each other because I swear, things are soooo much worse for everyone else when you two are fighting."
Loki gave him a long look before scoffing, "I am not about to listen to a mortal child's attempts to direct my actions."
… okay, so apparently Peter's life hung in the balance and his only chance of being saved was the great persuasion skills of Tony Stark.
He started saying his prayers.
"… Babe."
And if that's how he chose to start, then Peter immediately just moved right on to begging for some weird twist of fate to save him—
"I'll just have you know that I don't take well to being stood up."
Then it was just the slightest of shifts, but with the god still standing by, it wasn't hard to notice the ripple of his cape (and Peter also took a moment to question why Asgardians thought capes were good ideas, hadn't they seen the Incredibles?) and the adjustment of his posture.
"Is that so…" he murmured, and Peter wondered what sort of cosmic force had taken pity on him. So he was just waiting for the moment where he would be released from his confinement and was rewarded with, "But you're still not forgiven."
Things could never really be that easy when you're associated with the Avengers, huh?
"Yeah, I know," Tony took it in surprising stride that the god he had pissed off still controlled the destiny of his sometimes-son, "But hey, take it out on me and not the boy, okay?"
Loki scoffed and glanced back at Peter for the first time since Tony's arrival, giving him a good look at green eyes. Oh yeah, there was definitely a shift. Surprisingly enough, there was a lot less cold fury this time around. So the Liesmith spoke.
"Oops."
And that was all the warning that Peter got before he was immediately headed for the floor, his hands just barely coming out to keep him from falling on his head and even then it was a little too close for comfort.
He pushed himself onto his feet and tried to ignore the fact that he was still in his pajamas. After all, Loki seemed to really enjoy hearing himself talk.
"Don't be mistaken, Stark," he tilted his chin up, looking down upon the billionaire disdainfully, "I did not do this for you or for him. It is simply a matter of fact that this boy will be your downfall…. and the fact that he now owes me a favor is a bonus."
"I owe you a what?"
"No? Would you prefer instead that I send you to—" but the travel destination was cut short by Tony making his way over, grabbing a hold of Loki's collar and bringing him down to shut him up with a kiss.
Peter turned away and considered filing a complaint with Miss Potts.
"Don't be mean, Reindeer Games. And didn't I tell you to lose the helmet? You look like you belong on display at the Renaissance Fair. It's not flattering," Tony hummed as he pulled away from the kiss, though his hands remained on the god's person, "But listen, I've got to take Parker home before his aunts and uncles tear up the city looking for him."
"You're taking this family scenario too far…" Peter whined as he realized he had to go out into broad daylight in pajama pants with ducks on them. Ducks. (Thank you, Gwen.)
"No such thing," Tony shrugged as he finally pulled himself away from the Norse god, patting Peter on the back and guiding him out of the warehouse, "Now say goodbye to your mother."
"Do you think you can make it inside without getting kidnapped? I mean, I'd love to be there to hold your hand, kid, but Pepper might actually wring my neck if I don't show up at this meeting and we're pushing my intentions of being an hour and a half late."
Rolling his eyes, Peter watched as they entered the back garage of Stark Tower, "I think I'll be fine. It was your psycho boyfriend that took me, by the way."
"That is no way to speak about your mother," Tony chastised without any bite.
Shivering a bit, Peter shook his head, "I don't know, it'll take a fairly long time to ever get accustomed to the idea of him being that."
"Well… it did take you a few months to call me Dad," the other man merely shrugged.
"That's still weird."
"Only if you think it is."
Unable to bite back his laugh completely, Peter stepped out of the car once it parked and shook his head, "Well… sometimes I still think it's weird."
"… then I'm only very concerned about you the rest of the time," Tony rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, me too," the teenager shrugged before running a hand through his hair, "But uh… Thanks, Mr. Stark." The billionaire's brow raised but before he could ask a question, Peter quickly followed with, "And thank Happy for me for the ride!"
It was a rare moment of a door being shut in Tony's face as opposed to the other way around.
Perhaps it was far too comforting to run into the private elevator, resting against the familiar, sleek metal and hearing JARVIS' greeting of "Welcome home, Mr. Parker."
Peter just gave a tired laugh. "Yes… yes, thank you, JARVIS. It's good to be home."
He trudged out once they hit the Avengers floor, finding most of the team assembled and in full-gear. Steve paused just as he was telling Natasha and Clint to look in uptown New York, blinking at the sudden appearance of the supposedly missing Peter Parker.
But tired and haggard as he was, the team realized now was probably not a time for debriefing.
Clint merely tilted his head and had to ask—
"Rough morning, kid?"
Peter glanced at them and decided—
Why the hell not?
"Yeah," he sighed, "It's always a rough day when Mom and Dad are fighting."