“I’m home.”
You hadn’t seen Peter Parker later that day.
Happy picked you up, pretending to be a taxi driver, and you headed back to the New Avengers facility. The guards bowed, agents treated you like royalty until you reached your quarters.
“How’s your day, kid? I want hot chocolate,” Thor boomed as soon as he saw you.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Thor. I just survived a day of school. Give me a break,” you groaned, exhaustion weighing on you.
“Yes, for *my* sake, do it. I *am* a god,” he grinned.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Thor Christ.”
“Fine! Holy Thor!” You retorted, a smirk playing on your lips.
“Wait, that was rude, wasn’t it?” Thor asked. The other Avengers were laughing at your sarcasm, but you were far from amused. Didn’t they have villains to hunt instead of chilling in your living room and treating you like their personal servant? You fumed.
You ended up making a cup of hot chocolate for Thor. Everyone was ridiculously relaxed. After serving him, you went to your room, tossed your bag onto the floor, and collapsed onto your bed, letting exhaustion wash over you.
You opened your eyes, thoughts circling back to Peter Parker. You raised your wrist, activated your watch, and the room flooded with blue light.
“(N/n), can you show me the secret file on the ceiling?” you asked, the blue light coalescing into an image of a single file – different from any you’d seen before.
“Can you try to use the hack program I created?”
“Sure, (Y/n). Which one?”
“Start with ‘Thor Strike,’ then all of them. Take your time,” you said, leaving (N/n) to the task.
You walked through the house, noticing the Avengers were still lounging in the living room. You headed to the lab, confident your father would be there.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey,” he replied, absorbed in his own projects.
“Can you… remind me again why all the Avengers are slowly gathering at our house?” you asked, idly fiddling with one of his gadgets.
“Some bad guys are badgering us. In here, we’re safe. Wanda will be here tomorrow.”
“Ah… great, another pancake to make,” you groaned.
Tony noticed how tired you looked. He abandoned his work and walked over to you. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, you should have asked. Dad, I’m not a maid, or a chef. Why are you always making me do this for them?” You finally asked, a wave of relief washing over you.
“Well, you’re good at it! Plus, we don’t have to worry about getting poisoned if someone decides to add something extra,” he shrugged playfully.
You suspected he just wanted to keep you busy for no reason at all. You resigned yourself to your fate and were about to leave the lab when you stopped and asked one last question.
“Dad, does the name Peter Parker mean anything to you?”
Tony Stark’s expression flickered, a momentary freeze in his usual composure.
“No, never heard of that name.”
The tone of his voice screamed deception.
…
Peter Parker was in trouble.
Today, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was anything but friendly. He was nervous, terrified of disappointing his mentor.
“Peter, Mr. Stark is calling you,” Karen informed him.
Peter knew this call was coming. He braced himself.
“Okay, pick it up.”
“[Peter.]”
“Hi… hi, Mr. Stark. How’s it going?” Peter feigned normalcy, knowing full well he hadn’t been.
“[Why the hell did my daughter ask me who Peter Parker is??]” Stark’s voice was cold, laced with barely contained fury.
“What? That can’t be…” Peter laughed, a hollow sound.
“[Well, it happened a few minutes ago! I don’t care how hard it is, I asked you to keep an eye on her, in case she was in danger. Tell me, what did you do to her?]”
Peter gulped. “I… kept an eye on her… and she noticed.”
“[Are all teenagers the same?]” Tony muttered, barely audible. “[Fine, I still don’t want her to know who you are. You better come up with an excuse before she gets too paranoid. Bye, Parker.]”
He hung up abruptly, leaving Peter to berate himself.
“Damn it, Spider-Man… just keep a girl safe and instead you scared her…” He cursed, leaping from a building. Luckily, his bag was where he’d left it. He changed back into his uniform and headed home.
…
Aunt May burned the chicken again, so later that day the Parker family went out for Thai food.
After a while, Peter decided to seek Aunt May’s advice.
“Aunt May, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Peter asked nervously. “If… you stare at someone for too long, and they get paranoid about you, when you didn’t mean to, but you need that person to still like you… how would you explain that to her?”
Aunt May smiled. “So, it’s ‘her.’”
Peter nodded.
She smiled even wider, leaning closer to her nephew. “Why would you stare at someone if you didn’t like staring at her? Tell her that, Peter.”
It was a little complicated, but Peter understood perfectly.
Author : Dear, Tom Holland. You're like sharpie, super fine....