Tony’s P.O.V.
I reached [Y/N]’s room as quickly as I could, unlocking the door and pushing it open. They were lying on their bed. They sat up when I entered, gazing at me with a mixture of curiosity and underlying fear.
“Mister Stark?” they asked. “Is something wrong?” I scanned the room, finding nothing amiss. Then my eyes landed on them. Their cuts, their wounds… they were healed. Nothing remained but the scabs.
“You…” I gaped, struggling to process the impossibility before me. “Your wounds… they’re healed!” Their eyes widened, flicking between me and their scabs, then back again.
“O-oh yeah. I… I can do that,” they confessed. A grin stretched across my face.
“The team is going to love you,” I told them. They looked away, a difficult-to-read expression crossing their face.
“You think so?” they asked. I nodded firmly.
“I *know* so.” I said, sitting down on the bed beside them. “Clint is always getting hurt, so I’m pretty sure he’ll adore you.” I stood up and took their hand, pulling them up with me. “Now let’s go introduce you to the others.”
Emma’s P.O.V.
Being the adopted daughter of Stony – the ship name I concocted for my dads, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers – is the best. I love having them! Dad says he’ll make me one of his Iron suits when I get older. I’m thirteen now, and it’ll be blue and silver. Pretty sweet, right? Pops is great too. He tells me stories from the war, and… well, lots of stuff.
Auntie Nat and Uncle Bucky teach me how to use guns, which Dad and Pops don’t *really* approve of. Uncle Bruce helps me with my homework. I wish I were old enough to go on missions with them. It gets lonely being at the tower all alone when they’re gone. I know I’m lucky to live with the Avengers, but still…
Something cool happened today. Pops said they’re working on recruiting the person they rescued. I wonder what they’re like. Do they have a special ability, or are they just good at fighting like Auntie Nat? I wonder if they’ll like me. How old are they?
“Did they really use to be your friend, Uncle Bucky?” I asked, looking up at him. He nodded.
“Yeah. We helped each other the best we could.” He told me. I nodded along.
“How old are they? Are they my age?”
“They’re closer to Peter’s age, we think,” he said. I turned as I heard voices coming from the hallway.
“What if no one likes me? What if they all hate me and…” A voice questioned anxiously. I heard Dad chuckle.
“I already told you everyone will love you. Calm down.” Yup. That was definitely Dad.
“But what if—” their voice stopped short as they emerged from the hall and their eyes fell upon all of us. Wait a minute… they never told me they had wings!!