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The rain hammered against the windows, a perfect backdrop for the storm Peter and I found ourselves in. What had started as an ordinary school day was rapidly turning into a nightmare.
I sat in class, staring blankly at my desk, lost in thought. The sound of Flash’s loud, obnoxious voice yanked me back to reality.
“Ohhh, Penis Parker strikes again! And guess what? Everyone’s gonna know what a pathetic liar you are—and your so-called sister too!” he sneered, his words cutting through the room like a knife.
My blood boiled. I clenched my fists and spun halfway around, ready to fire back, but Peter yanked me down before I could even open my mouth.
“Let it go,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on the paper in his hand—the one Mr. Harrington had just handed out. It read in bold print at the top: Field Trip to Stark Tower.
I couldn’t help it; a small, incredulous laugh escaped my lips. The irony was almost too much. Of all places, they were taking us there?
Peter noticed my smirk and hissed under his breath, “This isn’t funny, Y/N.”
But it was. After all, we lived in Stark Tower. No one knew except our closest friends, Ned and MJ.
Speaking of MJ—she was casually sketching in her notebook like none of this was a big deal. I glanced at her drawing and groaned. She was sketching us, complete with my annoyed expression, which she had perfectly captured.
Meanwhile, Flash continued his tirade at the back of the room. I tuned him out, focusing instead on the ridiculousness of the situation. Stark Tower. My dad was going to love this.
When Mr. Harrington finished handing out the permission slips, he gave us the usual instructions: get them signed by a parent or guardian.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the day, and before I knew it, Peter was dragging me out of the classroom.
We barely made it to the car when Peter’s panic erupted like a volcano.
“Y/N, this is a disaster! They’re going to find out we live there, and your identity will get exposed. Then there’ll be cameras, reporters—it’ll be a media circus! And then—”
I grabbed his arm, cutting him off mid-rant. “Peter, breathe. None of that is going to happen. And even if it did, so what? Everyone finds out I’m Y/N Stark, and you’re adopted by Tony Stark. Big deal. Do you honestly think our classmates would believe we live there? Most of them don’t even buy that you had an internship.”
Peter looked unconvinced, so I leaned closer. “Besides, Flash still calls you Penis Parker. You think he has the mental capacity to figure out the truth?”
That got a small laugh out of him, but he quickly sobered.
As Happy drove us back to the tower, I made a mental note to give the permission slips to Pepper. No way was I letting Dad see them. He’d take this as an opportunity to humiliate us in the most over-the-top way possible.
The second we got home, Peter retreated to his room, still grumbling about worst-case scenarios. I bolted upstairs, permission slips in hand, intending to find Mom.
But as I reached her office door, I froze. Voices. Dad was in there with her. Crap.
I considered hiding the forms and coming back later, but before I could decide, the door swung open. And there he was—Tony Stark, in all his “I’m-smarter-than-everyone” glory.
“Oh, Y/N, you’re home already?” he asked, ruffling my hair as he walked past.
“It’s 3:30, Dad,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Is it? Huh. Well, time flies when you’re saving the world,” he quipped, completely unbothered. “What’s that behind your back?”
“Nothing! Just…school stuff. Paperwork,” I stammered.
He groaned and took his hands away, like he was getting burned or something. “Fine. Have fun with your paperwork, kid. I’ll see you downstairs.”
I exhaled in relief as he disappeared into the elevator.
Inside the office, Mom took one look at the forms and burst out laughing.
“Oh, this is what you were so secretive about! Thank God Tony didn’t pry.” She paused, smiling warmly. “Good luck, by the way. I hope you and Peter survive the chaos.”
“Mom,” I groaned, “can’t you… I don’t know, keep Dad away from us that day? You know how he is.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I can try. I’ll keep him busy with meetings if I can. But honestly? I’d be more worried about the rest of them. Your uncles and aunts are just as bad—if not worse.”
I let out a groan, dropping my head into my hands. She wasn’t wrong. Uncle Clint and Uncle Sam, in particular, had a knack for creating chaos wherever they went.
I still hadn’t forgotten the time they accidentally set off every fire extinguisher in the tower during one of their so-called “friendly” prank wars.
And now, we were bringing my entire class into the mix?
This was going to be a disaster.
On the morning of the field trip, Peter seriously considered skipping. He even suggested hiding in his room and pretending to be sick. But after some convincing (and a lot of eye-rolling on my part), I managed to talk him out of it.
And that’s how we ended up crammed into the school bus, heading to the Stark Tower—a place where, ironically, we’d had breakfast less than an hour earlier. Before we left, Mom had reassured me with her best CEO voice that nothing would go wrong. I wasn’t so sure.
Leaning against the window, I tried to tune out the chaos of the bus. Flash, a few rows behind us, was as loud and obnoxious as ever.
“I’m telling you, everyone’s going to see it today! Parker’s a liar, and so is his sister. Their whole act is about to crumble!”
Peter sighed heavily beside me, his frustration palpable. “Does he ever come up with something original?”
I smirked. “Nope. Same old Flash, same old insults.”
For the rest of the ride, I let my mind wander. My thoughts drifted to the countless ridiculous adventures Peter and I had already experienced with the Avengers. Like that time Thor and Loki visited the Tower. Loki had grown tired of Thor’s endless bragging and promptly turned him into a snake. It would’ve been fine—except anyone who tried to help Thor also got transformed. Let’s just say it was the weirdest team meeting ever. Honestly, Loki is still my favorite uncle because of that.
The bus came to a screeching halt in front of the gleaming Stark Tower.
“We’ve arrived!” Mr. Harrington announced from the front, clapping his hands for emphasis. “Everyone, exit the bus calmly and quietly!”
Right. Calm and quiet. Two words that had never described our class.
After a chaotic shuffle, we all found ourselves standing in the sleek foyer of the Tower. I stayed close to MJ, half-hiding behind her, as familiar faces passed by—Stark employees going about their day. Each one felt like a ticking time bomb, threatening to recognize us.
“Relax,” MJ muttered, not even looking up from her sketchbook. Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one trying to blend in.
Relief washed over me when I finally spotted our tour guide. He was a stranger—a young, sharp-dressed guy who introduced himself as Sido. Thank God. Neither Peter nor I recognized him, which meant he didn’t know us either. Peter’s shoulders visibly relaxed next to me, though only for a moment.
“Shit,” Peter whispered, suddenly tense again. “The badges.”
I frowned. “What badges?”
My question was answered seconds later. Sido pulled out a stack of shiny IDs and began handing them out.
“Hello, Midtown High!” he said with an enthusiastic grin. “Welcome to Stark Tower. As you’ve probably guessed, today’s tour will take you through select floors and facilities. To ensure everything runs smoothly, you’ll each receive a security badge with your name on it. These badges are essential—they track your access and activity within the Tower.”
I stiffened, glancing at Peter. He looked ready to bolt.
“As you can see,” Sido continued, “the badges are color-coded by access level. All of you will have Level 1 clearance, which is standard for visitors. Level 2 allows access to more restricted areas, and so on. I’m a Level 3, which allows me to guide groups like yours. Higher levels, such as Level 4 and 5, are reserved for head scientists and, of course, Mr. Stark and his inner circle. What this means,” he said, his tone suddenly serious, “is that you can’t access certain rooms without supervision. Stay with the group at all times.”
Sido finished his little speech and turned to Mr. Harrington. “Your teacher has already reviewed the Tower’s rules with you, correct?”
Mr. Harrington nodded enthusiastically.
Sido resumed handing out badges. I watched helplessly as he worked his way down the line. One by one, our classmates pinned their shiny new IDs to their jackets, oblivious to the rising panic radiating from Peter.
And here was the problem: Peter and I didn’t have Level 1 badges. Or even Level 2. We had Level 5 badges—the highest clearance, reserved for the most trusted people in the Tower.
As Sido approached us, I whispered out of the corner of my mouth, “Stay calm.”
Peter shot me a look. “Stay calm? Seriously? What do you think’s going to happen when someone notices?”
I had no idea. And that was the worst part.
When Sido finally reached our little group, he asked for our names.
“Michelle Jones,” MJ said smoothly. She accepted her badge without hesitation.
“Ned Leeds,” Ned followed, his usual enthusiasm barely contained.
Then it was Peter’s turn. He froze. His hesitation was palpable, and I could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he debated what to do. Before he could dig himself into a hole, I stepped in.
“Y/n Parker,” I said confidently, using the cover school name I’d been given.
Sido rummaged through the stack of badges before pulling one out with my name printed neatly on it. I blinked, genuinely surprised. Mom really thought of everything. I sent a silent prayer of thanks to every deity I could think of, clutching the badge like it was a lifeline.
Peter relaxed slightly beside me, finally giving his name as well. Sido handed him his badge without so much as a raised eyebrow.
Unfortunately, Flash had been watching. Of course he had.
“Aha, Penis Parker!” he crowed, loud enough for half the foyer to hear.
“If you really have an internship here, where’s your fancy badge, huh?”
Peter didn’t even flinch. “I do have one. But I don’t think I’m supposed to use it for a school field trip,” he replied, his tone as calm as ever.
Sido, thankfully, didn’t seem interested in the exchange. Instead, he gestured for the group to follow him toward the security checkpoint.
The checkpoint was...intimidating. A towering metal detector stood in the center of the entryway, flanked by sleek, futuristic tech. Most notably, FRIDAY—Dad’s AI system—was running the scan. Every time someone passed through, FRIDAY would read their name aloud in her crisp, polite voice, confirming their badge and clearance level.
One by one, our classmates filtered through. Names echoed around the room as Flash, MJ, Ned, and the others crossed the threshold without issue.
Then it was our turn.
Peter and I exchanged a glance, silently bracing ourselves as we stepped forward.
The scanner beeped, and Friday’s voice rang out, utterly indifferent:
“Y/n Parker.”
“Peter Parker.”
We both let out the smallest sighs of relief. No grand announcements, no unwanted attention. Just two normal-sounding names among the crowd.
Peter shot me a quick smile. I returned it. For now, we were safe.
For now.
The first half hour passed without incident. Our tour guide led us through the lower levels and exhibitions, stopping occasionally to chat with some of the staff.
By now, my nerves had mostly settled, and I was busy chatting with Ned and MJ about how to make the most of the rest of the day.
That is, until Peter suddenly grabbed my shoulder.
“Careful, Y/n,” he whispered urgently. “Clint incoming.”
Before I could even process what he’d said, Peter ducked behind a group of our classmates. Moments later, Clint Barton—Hawkeye himself—dropped out of a vent barely two meters away.
The entire group froze. Clint looked just as surprised as we were. He blinked at the collection of students staring up at him, then addressed them with zero hesitation.
“Hey, anyone seen Sam Wilson? Y’know, the guy with wings? No? Shame.”
Then his eyes landed on me. His face lit up with that trademark Clint grin.
“Y/n! What are you doing here?” he exclaimed, clearly thrilled.
The confused stares from my classmates grew sharper, and I could practically feel their questions bubbling up. I scrambled to come up with a response that wouldn’t blow everything.
“I, uh...haven’t seen Sam,” I muttered. “Let me guess, he got you again?”
“Bingo!” Clint said, throwing his hands up in exaggerated frustration. “The guy rigged a bucket of water over my door. And guess who got a free shower?”
He mimed the scene dramatically, earning a few snickers from the braver students.
Meanwhile, I was trapped between pretending I didn’t know him and finding a way to shut this down fast.
“Yeah, sounds rough,” I replied as nonchalantly as possible, trying to steer him away.
But Clint wasn’t done. He gestured to my classmates, his grin widening. “Wait a second... Is this your class?”
I nodded reluctantly.
“Why are you here?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Field trip,” I said flatly, hoping the conversation would end there.
“Oh my god. No way!” Clint burst out laughing. “That’s amazing! A field trip to your ho—”
Before he could finish, I slapped my hand over his mouth. Several audible gasps erupted from the students around me.
“Yup! Super exciting!” I said quickly, glaring at Clint. He finally caught on, his mischievous smirk telling me he understood the warning in my eyes.
“Got it, got it. My lips are sealed,” he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear.
Then he glanced around. “Hey, where’s Pete? He’s gotta be here too, right?”
With a groan, I reached back and dragged Peter out of hiding. “He’s here. Say hi, Peter.”
Peter gave a weak wave.
“And now Clint says goodbye,” I added pointedly, lowering my voice to a sharp whisper. “And if you tell Dad about this, so help me—”
Clint raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! I’m gone. Nice meeting you all!” he called out, waving cheerfully at my classmates before vanishing as quickly as he’d arrived.
I turned back to the group, trying to play it cool. “Okayyy, moving on,” I said with an awkward laugh.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then, chaos erupted.
Questions flew from every direction, overlapping as my classmates tried to make sense of what had just happened. Why was Hawkeye here? How did I know him? Was I secretly an Avenger too?
Sido struggled to restore order, though it took him a good few minutes. Eventually, we were moving again, heading toward the elevators.
I fell into step beside MJ, Ned, and Peter, still trying to shake off the adrenaline. But Flash, predictably, drifted closer, muttering under his breath loud enough for us to hear.
More nonsense. I didn’t even bother listening, my mind already jumping to the next inevitable disaster.
Thankfully, MJ, Ned, and Peter were quick to shut him down before I had to.
As we stepped into the elevator, I could still hear the muffled chaos of my classmates arguing about Clint Barton. Some of them seemed to think the entire interaction was staged for the tour—others weren’t so sure.
Flash, of course, was loudly proclaiming that it was all part of a “stupid PR stunt” to save Peter’s “fake reputation.” I rolled my eyes. Classic Flash.
Peter, on the other hand, was still tense. He kept fidgeting with his badge, shooting glances at me every few seconds.
I gave him a reassuring nudge as the elevator doors closed, enclosing us in blessed silence.
"Relax," I whispered. "Clint didn’t blow our cover. We're still good."
“For now,” he muttered. “But you know how it is. First Clint shows up, then Thor drops by to retrieve his hammer, and by the end of the day, we’re explaining to the whole class why Bruce is suddenly 8 feet tall and green.”
I smirked. He wasn’t wrong. With the Avengers, chaos wasn’t a possibility—it was a guarantee.
The elevator dinged, signaling our arrival at the next part of the tour. Sido ushered us into one of the tech labs. Sleek glass walls surrounded us, showcasing rows of gadgets and prototypes that hummed with power. A few scientists worked at the stations, glancing up briefly before returning to their tasks.
“This,” Sido announced, “is one of the most innovative labs in Stark Tower, used to design and test new technology for the betterment of mankind.” He gestured toward a display case that housed what looked like a smaller version of Tony’s Iron Man gauntlet. “For example, this—”
A loud clatter echoed from across the room as a chair tipped over, followed by a gruff voice yelling, “What the hell?!”
I froze. Peter froze. Even Sido looked momentarily panicked.
From the far side of the lab, none other than Sam Wilson—fully suited up in his Falcon gear—emerged from behind a row of equipment, his face a mixture of irritation and confusion. He was dripping wet.
“Oh no,” Peter whispered.
“Oh yes,” I groaned.
Sam stalked toward Clint, who had somehow managed to sneak into the lab without anyone noticing. Clint, perched on top of a counter like a kid caught stealing cookies, was grinning ear to ear. “What’s the matter, Birdman? Didn’t see the water bucket this time?”
“Clint!” Sam bellowed, his wings unfurling slightly in a clear threat. “I am going to—”
“—show the kids how professional Avengers handle conflict resolution?” Clint interrupted cheerfully, glancing over at our group enjoying this way too much.
Every single one of my classmates was staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Some had even started recording on their phones. This was officially a disaster.
Peter tugged on my sleeve. “We need to stop them before this gets worse.”
I hesitated. “And how exactly do we do that? Ask them nicely to act normal?”
Sam, who had been alerted to us by Clint’s comment, was just about to say something.
Peter and I exchanged a panicked look, both silently begging him to drop it.
But before a word could leave his lips, Sam’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, read the message, and smirked. Without another word, he tucked the phone away and, with a powerful gust of wind from his wings, launched himself into the air.
In one fluid motion, Sam shot toward Clint, who immediately froze, his eyes wide as saucers. “Wait, Sam, no!” Clint yelped, trying to backpedal.
Too late. Sam grabbed Clint mid-step and carried him out of the lab in a blur, the door snapping shut behind them.
“Crisis averted,” I muttered under my breath.
Peter spun toward me, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and admiration. “Wait, that was you?”
I shrugged, unable to keep the smug grin off my face. “A little preemptive problem-solving.” I held up my phone, showing him the chat I’d just sent to Sam, asking for the assist.
Peter let out a laugh, a genuine, uncontrollable one, and for a second, I thought he was going to fall over. The rest of the class, unaware of the real reason for his laughter, quickly joined in, assuming it was about Clint being dragged away.
“What did I say?” MJ whispered to Ned. “This place is weird.”
“Best field trip ever,” Ned whispered back, wide-eyed.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket, leaning against the nearest table. “Let’s just hope Clint doesn’t come back for revenge,” I murmured to Peter.
Peter smirked. “Oh, he definitely will. But we’ll deal with that later.”
Peter and I exchanged a look. Surviving the rest of this tour was going to take a miracle. But maybe we can manage it, together.
We arrived at another lab—larger than the last one, buzzing with activity. The room was filled with long tables, monitors, and intricate machinery. A group of interns and college students clustered around a workstation in the corner, deeply engrossed in some kind of project.
As soon as we stepped inside, one of the interns glanced over, his expression shifting from confusion to excitement when his eyes landed on Peter.
“Pete! Just the guy we need!” he called out, practically dragging Peter toward the group and their computer.
Peter shot me a quick, panicked look, but I gave him a small nod of encouragement. He could handle this.
“We’ve been working on the code for our latest project,” the intern explained, gesturing at the screen, “but it keeps spitting out garbage. We’ve combed through it a dozen times and still can’t figure out where the error is. Can you take a look?”
Peter nodded, slipping into problem-solving mode as he scanned the lines of code.
Behind me, our classmates whispered amongst themselves, watching the scene unfold with rapt attention. To them, it looked like Peter was a seasoned part of the team, which, honestly, wasn’t far from the truth. Peter and I had spent enough time in these labs to know most of the interns and assist with their projects occasionally. It was one of the few perks of living here.
After a few minutes of focused silence, Peter tapped a key triumphantly. “Here’s your problem—your loop is missing a termination condition, so it’s running endlessly.”
The group erupted into relieved laughter and thanked him profusely. Peter rubbed the back of his neck, modest as always.
Meanwhile, Sido—once again proving how little control he had over this tour—cleared his throat and addressed the students. “Why don’t one of you share with the group what this lab focuses on?”
One of the interns stepped forward and launched into an enthusiastic explanation of their projects. Something about advanced AI integration and environmental monitoring—it all sounded cool and I found myself enjoying his speech. While explaining, one of the scientists asks the group, “Can anyone tell me how artificial intelligence assists in data analysis?”
Peter instinctively raises his hand, but before the scientist can call on him, Flash interrupts. "Oh, that’s easy! AI analyzes data faster than any nerd ever could. Duh!" He turns to the rest of the class, puffing out his chest. "Right, Parker? Or do you wanna add something?"
Peter quietly lowers his hand, mumbling, "No, you’ve got it," as Flash grins smugly, basking in his self-perceived victory. Of course Flash needs to put the spotlight back on him.
After about five minutes, Sido clapped his hands. “Alright, everyone, let’s keep moving. We’re on a tight schedule.”
As we filed out of the lab, I noticed Flash looking unusually subdued. His smug attitude had dimmed significantly since before, especially after several classmates whispered among themselves about how impressive Peter’s involvement seemed.
“Maybe Peter does have an internship here,” I heard one of them say.
“Yeah, Flash was totally wrong.”
I suppressed a smirk. So far, this field trip was working out better than I’d hoped.
The tour continued smoothly for another ten minutes, much to my relief. Sido led us into an impressive lounge-like area filled with sleek furniture and walls adorned with holographic displays showcasing various Stark Industries projects.
“Alright, everyone,” Sido announced, gesturing to the comfortable seating. “We’re taking a short break here before we move on to the cafeteria. Feel free to look around, but please stay in this area. No wandering off.”
As the group dispersed to explore, I leaned against one of the walls, quietly watching Peter inspect a hologram with Ned and MJ. The tension from earlier was finally starting to ease.
But of course, peace doesn’t last long in Stark Tower.
Just as I took a sip of water from my bottle, the Natasha Romanoff appeared beside me, as composed and intimidating as ever. Her sudden presence made my stomach twist into knots, and when Peter noticed her too, his wide-eyed, panicked expression wasn’t exactly comforting.
“Great,” I muttered under my breath, trying to keep calm.
Natasha’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk. Leaning in close enough that no one else could hear, she whispered, “Well, well. I didn’t expect to see you two here today.”
Peter gulped audibly, his super senses picking up every word like she’d shouted it in his ear. I stayed quiet, unsure where this was going.
“A school trip?” she continued, her tone laced with amusement. “Interesting choice of location.”
“Maybe?” I whispered back, trying to sound nonchalant but probably failing miserably.
Natasha tilted her head slightly, her sharp gaze flickering between us and the oblivious class behind. “You’ve been staying out of trouble, I hope?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes piercing.
Peter looked like he was seriously reconsidering every decision that led to this moment. I jumped in before he could stammer something incriminating. “Of course! You know us—model students. Totally normal.”
“Normal,” Natasha repeated, her voice heavy with sarcasm. She crossed her arms and gave a faint shake of her head before nodding toward the class. “So, these are your friends?”
“Uh... yeah,” I stammered, scrambling for words. “I mean, technically? Yes. But wait—what are you doing here? Please don’t say you’re about to embarrass us like Clint and Sam did.”
Natasha chuckled softly, clearly amused by our discomfort. “Actually, I came to warn you,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “You might want to keep an eye out for Clint, Sam, and... well, the others. They’re planning something. I tried to talk them out of it—given your little cover stories—but you know how well they listen.”
I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Fantastic. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. Wait—does Dad know about this?” I asked, already bracing myself for the answer.
Natasha shook her head. “Not yet, thankfully. He’s tied up in meetings, so at least you’ve been spared that... for now.”
I sighed in relief, but before I could say anything else, Natasha straightened and glanced toward the doorway. “I should go. If I don’t keep an eye on the rest, they might accidentally blow up the apartment or something.”
With one last smirk, she added, “Good luck, kids. You’re going to need it.” Then, with the grace only a trained spy could pull off, she disappeared, leaving Peter and me to process what was likely the calm before the storm.
I exhaled sharply and turned to Peter. “Okay, that was interesting. It helps to be on her good site i guess.”
“Yeah. You think they are going to mess with us on purpose?” he asked, still looking shaken.
“Definitely,” I muttered.
Sido clapped his hands to regain the group’s attention. “Alright, everyone, let’s head to the cafeteria for lunch. Let’s go!”
The mention of food was enough to distract most of the group, and we all filed out of the lounge. Peter and I stayed near the back, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible.
The cafeteria buzzed with conversation, trays clinking as students shuffled between tables. Peter, MJ, Ned, and I sat tucked in a corner, our plates half-finished.
Flash, however, is loudly recounting every minor detail of his “extensive” experience with tech tours, loudly saying, "You know, I’ve been to WAY cooler places than this. My dad’s company once took me to Silicon Valley—this is nothing!"
He spots me and Peter and leans over from a nearby table. "Don’t you guys ever talk about anything exciting? Or is ‘sitting quietly’ your only skill? Jeez, no wonder Parker barely survives Midtown High."
Peter glances at me and I just roll my eyes. MJ smirks and whispers, "He’s trying way too hard," making Ned chuckle.
“So,” MJ began, poking her salad with her fork, “how many Avengers are we running into today?”
Peter groaned, leaning his head on the table. “Hopefully, none. Clint, Sam and Nat already pushed it.”
“Are you kidding?” Ned said, wide-eyed. “This is amazing! Like, field trip of the century. You two must love this!”
Peter and I exchanged a look. “Yeah, ‘love’ is definitely the word,” I muttered.
“Honestly,” MJ added, swirling her drink, “it’s not like the others don’t already know you two come here.”
Peter shot her a warning glance. “They don’t know how much we’re here, okay? And let’s keep it that way.”
Ned leaned in, his excitement almost palpable. “But seriously, you think any more Avengers will show up? Maybe—”
Before he could finish, the cafeteria doors swung open, and Scott Lang strolled in, wearing his Ant-Man suit minus the helmet.
“Hey, Midtown!” Scott called out, clapping his hands together. The room quieted immediately, all eyes turning to him.
“Oh no,” Peter muttered under his breath.
Scott grinned, clearly enjoying the attention. “You’re the field trip group, right? Great! I was just passing through and thought, why not show you something cool? Follow me!”
“Do we, uh, have time for this?” Mr. Harrington asked nervously.
Scott waved him off. “Absolutely. I promise it’ll be worth it. Plus, the gym’s one of the coolest spots in the Tower.”
Peter and I both froze. The gym? This was definitely not part of the planned tour. Was this Sam and Clints doing?
Scott led us down several corridors, chatting animatedly about “typical Avenger stuff” while completely ignoring Peter’s and my increasingly alarmed expressions. When we reached a set of double doors, he turned to the group with a theatrical flourish.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Avengers gym!” he declared, pushing the doors open.
Inside, the facility was as impressive as ever—massive space, gleaming equipment, and plenty of training mats. At first, it appeared empty, but as we stepped inside, a familiar group of Avengers casually “appeared,” looking suspiciously busy.
Thor was bench-pressing what looked like half a car, Bruce was working on a tablet in the corner, and Bucky was casually throwing knives at a target.
“Wow,” Ned whispered, his jaw practically on the floor.
“Yeah, wow,” I muttered, exchanging a wary glance with Peter.
Scott clapped his hands together. “Look at that! They’re in full training mode. Isn’t that inspiring? I mean, this is where we get strong, fast, and, uh, you know...save the world.”
Thor looked up from his workout, his expression lighting up. “Midgardians! Welcome to our hall of valor!”
Bruce shot him a look. “It’s a gym, Thor. Let’s not get dramatic.”
“Quiet, Banner. They’re clearly in awe,” Thor said, waving his hand toward the group.
Scott grinned. “Anyway, we thought, why not give you guys a little demo? Show you what it really takes to be an Avenger.”
Peter tensed beside me, his voice a low whisper. “This is a setup. I know it’s a setup.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “And we’re walking right into it.”
The Avengers began their “training demonstration,” sparring and throwing each other around in a way that was clearly more for show than for actual practice. The class watched, completely enthralled.
Then Scott turned back to the group, his grin widening. “So, any volunteers want to join in? Don’t worry, it’s safe. Totally controlled environment.”
When no one stepped forward, Thor spoke up, his booming voice echoing through the gym. “What of you two?” He pointed directly at Peter and me. “You look capable.”
My stomach dropped. “Uh, no thanks,” I said quickly. “We’re just here to watch.”
“Nonsense!” Thor said, striding forward. “You’ll never know your strength until you test it.”
Peter sighed in resignation. “We’re doomed.”
“Pretty much,” I agreed as Thor handed us sparring gloves.
The Avengers were far too eager to see us in action, each taking turns “coaching” as Peter and I did our best to seem like clueless amateurs. Thor laughed heartily every time one of us dodged a blow, while Scott kept throwing in unhelpful advice like, “Use the quantum physics of it all!”
“You’re surprisingly agile,” Bucky commented out loud with a smirk on his face after I dodged one of his fake punches.
“Uh, thanks?” I said, trying to sound nervous.
By the end of the session, Peter and I were sweating—not from the workout, but from sheer effort to maintain our cover.
“Well done!” Thor said, clapping Peter on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “You have potential, young one.”
“Thanks,” Peter said weakly.
As the class filed out of the gym, Scott leaned over to me, his voice low. “By the way, Clint and Sam told us you two are pretty good at pranks. Just wait—we’re gonna top whatever you’ve pulled on them before.”
I forced a laugh, my mind racing with possibilities as we were lead away and towards our next tour stop.
The idea had started innocently enough. As Clint, Sam, and Scott lounged in the common area, casually discussing how Peter and I always seemed to fade into the background when it came to their classmates. Especially that Flash kid—he was a real piece of work, always running his mouth and never giving credit where it was due.
It was Clint who suggested they “help” the two out.
“I’m just saying,” Clint began, munching on a pretzel, “those two deserve some recognition. Let’s give them a moment to shine.”
“Yeah, and freak that Flash kid out while we’re at it,” Sam chimed in, grinning.
Scott leaned forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. “What if we set up a little scenario? Nothing too crazy—just something to show off their skills without blowing their cover.”
It didn’t take long for the plan to take shape. Bruce, ever the tech genius, reprogrammed an old training droid to mimic a harmless malfunction. Clint and Natasha, who wasn't really satisfied with the plan, would play the frantic Avengers trying to contain it, and Scott—well, he’d make sure it all looked convincing. The goal was to create a believable but controlled “emergency” where Peter and Y/N could save the day without anyone realizing who they really were.
But, as usual with the Avengers, “controlled” was a relative term.
The chaos began the moment the droid burst into the lab where the Midtown High students were gathered. It stomped forward with loud, metallic clangs, its red sensors flashing menacingly. A few students screamed, others clutched at their friends, and, of course, Flash was already recording the whole thing on his phone.
Clint came running into the room, playing his part to perfection. “Everybody stay calm! We’ve got this under control—kind of!”
Natasha followed closely behind, looking less amused. “Clint, this was supposed to be subtle.”
The droid swung one of its arms wildly, knocking over a table. Students scattered, some diving for cover behind desks. I shot a panicked glance at Peter. This wasn’t part of the plan.
Scott, watching from the control room, decided to up the ante. “Let’s make it a little more realistic,” he muttered to himself, hitting a button on his wrist.
The droid suddenly grew taller, its limbs extending with a loud whirr. It loomed over the room now, its glowing sensors sweeping across the panicked students. Peter’s eyes widened.
“This is bad,” he whispered to me.
“Really? You think?” I shot back, already digging into my bag for the Stark-tech device dad had given me.
Before I could activate it, a piece of equipment hanging above the room creaked loudly and broke loose, tumbling toward a student.
Peter didn’t hesitate. In a blur of motion, he darted forward, catching the falling metal just in time. The move was too fast, too precise, and entirely too superhuman.
The class fell silent, staring at Peter. Flash, for once, looked like he didn’t know what to say.
I groaned internally. So much for keeping a low profile. I activate my gadget, sending a pulse that disabled the droid mid-step. It froze, the whirring and flashing coming to an abrupt stop.
“Whoa,” one of the students whispered.
“What just happened?” Flash demanded, pointing at Peter. “And what the heck is that?” he added, gesturing to my gadget.
Before either of us could respond, the intercom crackled to life.
“What exactly is going on in my building?”
The voice was unmistakable. Peter and I froze, our blood running cold as Tony Stark’s voice echoed through the lab.
Within moments, he appeared, still in a sharp suit from his earlier meetings. His expression was somewhere between annoyed and deeply unimpressed as he took in the scene: the disabled droid, the panicked students, and his very guilty-looking kids.
"You two. Care to explain why this”—he gestured to the frozen droid and the students—“looks like a crossover episode of Scooby-Doo and Mission Impossible?”
I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Dad, can we not do this right now?”
The room fell deathly silent.
“Did she just say ‘dad’?” Flash’s voice broke through the tension, sounding equal parts stunned and smug.
Tony sighed heavily, looking around at the stunned students. “Fantastic. Damage control it is. FRIDAY, get PR on the line. And someone explain to me why I wasn’t invited to this prank, because honestly, it’s amateur hour without me.”
The students were still staring, the weight of the word “dad” hanging in the air like an oversized elephant in the room. Flash’s face contorted between disbelief and self-satisfaction, clearly eager to milk this moment for all it was worth.
Peter and I stood frozen, feeling the weight of Flash’s relentless stare and his half-raised phone.
Tony broke the silence, changing the subject. “So... anyone want to tell me why there’s a giant, defunct training bot in the middle of my lab? Or should I just assume it’s Tuesday?”
Peter shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, well—”
“It’s their fault!” Clint blurted, pointing at Sam and Scott, who immediately shot him identical betrayed looks.
“My fault?” Sam snapped, crossing his arms. “This was your idea, Legolas.”
Scott held up his hands defensively. “Hey, I was just the tech guy! And let’s be real—this went off perfectly until, you know, it didn’t.”
Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess. You three thought you’d play ‘Avengers: The Home Edition’ and rope these two into it?” He gestured at Peter and myself. “Because clearly nothing could go wrong with that plan.”
Sam scratched the back of his neck, mumbling,
“Wait,” Flash started, stepping forward with his phone now recording, “are you telling me that Parker and Y/N are connected to Tony Stark? Mr. Iron Man himself? No way. No freaking way.”
Tony raised a finger. “First of all, kid, don’t call me that. Secondly...” He turned to Peter and me with a raised brow. “Is this guy serious?”
I pinche the bridge of my nose, muttering, “This is the worst day of my life.”
“Worse than the drone attack in Prague?” Peter whispered back.
“Shut up,” I hiss.
"So nothing from great matter happened here right", Tony declared after a brief pause and stared into the faces of each and every classmate. Most of them nodded, just Flash couldn't keep his mouth shut.
“Are you kidding me? Parker literally caught a falling hunk of metal like it weighed nothing, and she”—he points at me—“used some kind of gadget straight out of a sci-fi movie! You’re telling me that’s not suspicious?”
Tony turned to Flash, leveling him with a deadpan stare. “And you’ve got proof of this, huh?”
Flash puffed out his chest. “Of course I do! I got the whole thing on—” He froze, patting his pockets. “Wait... where’s the video?”
Tony smirked as FRIDAY’s calm voice echoed through the room.
“Video deleted, Mr. Stark. Device restored to factory settings.”
“What?! No!” Flash looked like he was about to cry. “Do you know how many followers I could’ve gotten with that?”
Tony leaned closer, his voice low and menacing. “Kid, let me make something clear. You can post all the food pics and gym selfies you want, but if you so much as hint at what happened here today, I’ll make sure the only thing you can upload is cat videos. Got it?”
Flash nodded furiously, clutching his now-blank phone like a lifeline. ,,That includes all of you.", he says pointing towards the class.
“Good,” Tony said, straightening up. “Now, as for you two.” He turned back to Peter and myself, his expression softening slightly. “Why didn’t you call me the second things started going sideways?”
Peter hesitated. “Uh, well... you were busy, and we thought we could handle it.”
“Clearly,” Tony replied, gesturing to the droid-shaped disaster. “From now on, call me. I don’t care if I’m halfway to Mars—just call.”
Natasha chimed in, “I warned you three this would end badly.” Adressing Sam, Clint and Scott.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the support, Nat.”
Tony sighed. “Alright, everyone out. That's a
wrap, I’ve got damage control to do, and I’m billing all of you for it. And remember: what happens in the Stark Tower stays in the Stark Tower. Especially you, kid.” He pointed at Flash.
Flash, thoroughly intimidated, nodded quickly and shoved his phone into his pocket.
The other students nodded quickly, their awe for Tony overriding any lingering confusion. Sido ushered them out one by one, followed by a starstruck Mr. Harrington.
“Great,” Tony said, turning his attention to the Avengers still awkwardly lingering by the wall. “And you three.” He pointed at Clint, Sam, and Scott, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m adding you to the schedule for a full week of PR workshops. If you’re gonna pull stunts like this, you better learn how to clean up after yourselves.”
“Aw, come on, Stark,” Clint protested. “It was just a harmless prank!”
Tony smirked, his tone suddenly light and mischievous. “You’re right. Harmless and sloppy. I’d have done it way better.”
“Of course you would,” Sam muttered under his breath.
Ignoring him, Tony turned to me and Peter again. His voice softened, though the exasperation was still clear. “You two okay?”
I sighed. “Yeah. Just... you know. Public humiliation and all.”
“Add it to the list,” Peter quipped, his voice still shaky.
Tony gives us a small smile. “You two really know how to steal the spotlight, don’t you?”
“Technically,” Peter began, “it wasn’t our fault.”
“Oh, I know,” Tony replied, ruffling Peter’s hair before looking at me. “But don’t think for a second that I’m letting you off the hook. Both of you are joining me in the lab tonight for some very fun damage-control brainstorming.”
I groaned. “Great. Just what I needed—homework.”
As Tony chuckled and led us toward the elevator, Clint called after us, “You’re welcome, by the way!”
I turned around, glaring at him. “Oh, we’ll get you back for this.”
Peter nodded in agreement. “And you won’t see it coming.”
Tony smirked, pressing the elevator button.
“That’s my kids.”