Chapter Text
September
Spider-Man left the tower.
Not unusual, Natasha noted sleepily from where she sat by one of the large windows in her room. She held a cup of hot coffee in her hands and her temple was pressed against the cold glass as she watched the young hero swing away. Despite the early hour, it was becoming a common sight. Spidey would leave the tower as the sun rose, stay out for a few hours, and be back by lunch. It didn’t seem like he was doing any crime fighting: JARVIS told her that there were very few reports of activity by the vigilante during that time period.
Something as a civilian, then, she mused, yawning. That was good. That was very promising. She wasn’t entirely sure, of course, but she had suspected that he’d lost his civilian identity along the way. She was glad to see him regaining it, even if it was just for a few hours every morning.
She wondered what he did, when he was out there in New York City with his face bared to the world. She wondered if it made him afraid, walking around without the security that being Spider-Man gave him. She wondered if it was a relief.
Natasha watched as Spidey disappeared around a corner, just a speck in the air far down the road to the west of the tower. She could find out where he was going, she acknowledged. Or, at least, she could find out where his suit went. The tracker implanted in it was still active, and Spidey knew that. So either he was going somewhere that anyone could be, somewhere very public, or he trusted them not to look. Or maybe he didn’t mind if they did.
She hoped for the latter, but she kept her wandering mind to herself.
She’d wondered plenty about Spider-Man’s identity, of course. Likely more than any of the others. No one could blame her for that: it was her job. It was her responsibility to know who they were dealing with.
She had her list of suspects, with one shining name much higher than any other, but she had put her speculation away.
It didn’t matter what his name was, Natasha had decided. It didn’t matter what he looked like. She knew who she was dealing with. She knew who Spider-Man was, whether she knew his identity or not.
And besides, it wasn’t as if it would be difficult to find out for sure if it ever became necessary to know. SHIELD had arrived to clean up after their fight in the warehouse last month, and had taken all the clones with them in order to keep them in secure hands.
Secure was a very subjective term, though, Natasha knew. She was certain that the scientists over at the organization had removed Spider-Man’s mask immediately, and after that they had almost certainly autopsied, learning more than Spidey ever wanted anyone to have access to.
Autopsied, Clint had laughed when she mentioned it to him. More like dissected.
Natasha put that thought away, too. It couldn’t be helped, the things that organizations like SHIELD got up to when there was no one around to stop them. Spidey understood what had probably happened to his clone, and that was what was important. As long as he knew , then he could protect himself.
Natasha wondered if Spidey had a part time job, chuckling to herself.
“JARVIS,” Natasha looked out through the tinted windows, the dull light of morning mostly blocked out by the weight of the tower. “How long ago did we meet Spider-Man?”
“One year ago, Miss Romanoff,” JARVIS answered, sounding practically nostalgic. He’d been there, Natasha realized, in Tony’s suit, that very first encounter.
“Text Spidey for me,” Natasha yawned again, standing and moving towards the bedroom door. “Tell him to make sure he’s back in time for lunch. We’re celebrating.”
“Yes, Miss Romanoff.”
---
Bucky found Steve in the common room, idly tapping a stick of charcoal against a blank sheet of paper. “Morning,” he muttered gruffly, and Steve shot him a look, expression easing minutely in that way it sometimes did when he saw Bucky. There was always some hint of relief there, like he was always expecting to be missing Bucky again and was glad that he didn’t have to.
“Morning,” Steve murmured back. “Sleep well?”
“Not bad,” Bucky nodded slowly, dropping into the chair near Steve’s. “You seen Romanoff this morning?”
“No, not yet. Why?”
“She says you guys met Spidey a year ago today,” He tipped his head back, eyes closing, and after a moment he heard the scratch of coal against the rough paper of the sketchbook. Bucky held still. “And she wants to do something special for the kid this afternoon.”
“That’s a good idea,” Steve agreed, sounding pleased. “Do you know what she had in mind?”
“Something low-key, probably,” Bucky answered.
“That sounds more like wishful thinking than anything,” Steve muttered, chuckling to himself.
“Yeah, well, I just hope she’s not planning a party or something.”
“Doesn’t seem likely,” Steve relented. “Spidey’s been pretty high-energy lately, but sometimes I get the feeling he’s still faking it, you know?”
“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “He’s still worn down from all that shit with the Chameleon.” He heard a hum from Steve. “But he’s getting better.”
“You see it, too.” It wasn’t really a question, but Bucky hummed back at him.
“It would help if we could see his face,” Bucky complained. “But yeah, he seems… better. He’s not so closed off anymore. He actually admitted it the other day when he was feeling down.”
“That’s new,” Steve sounded like he was smiling. “That therapy is really starting to pay off.”
“Bruce is a miracle worker,” Bucky agreed, and there were a few moments of quiet as the itching sound of Steve’s work filled the space between them. “I’m thinking about… asking if he’s willing to take on another patient.”
The pencil stilled. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Bucky let out a slow breath. “I figure… I figure if it’s working so well for Spidey, maybe it could… I don’t know. Make a difference for me, too.”
“Yeah, Buck,” Steve’s relief was palpable in the air. “Yeah, I think that might be good.”
Bucky lifted his head and opened his eyes, glancing down towards Steve’s sketchbook. There was an affection drawn into the arch of his neck, the set of his chin, the soft, close-eyed expression on the face of the man there. It was hard to believe that it was him.
“I want to look like that,” Bucky nodded towards the book, and Steve glanced down. “I want to be that guy.”
“You are that guy,” Steve assured him. The coal moved again, bringing to life the shoulder closest to Steve. The metal arm. “He has scars, too.”
Bucky laughed under his breath. “Alright, alright,” he waved his metal hand lazily, dismissively, and although it would never feel the same as his real arm, it felt close enough. “Anyway, just… make sure you’re around at lunch time. Romanoff’s orders, okay?”
“Okay. Now hold still.”
---
Clint was in the gym. He wasn’t working out, mostly he was hanging out on top of the equipment and trying trick shots from weird positions. Why not, right?
“How is it that you haven’t managed to give yourself a brain hemorrhage like that?” He heard a dry voice ask, and he twisted as far as he could towards the door. It was difficult, hanging upside down the way he was.
“Pure, unadulterated skill,” He answered, voice sounding somewhat choked. There was a lot of blood in his head right now. “And probably blind luck. So much of it.”
“No kidding,” Tasha snorted, coming into view down on the floor. “Laura is going to kill me if I let you die up there. Come down, would you?”
“Aw, mom ,” Clint groaned, and even upside down he could see the unimpressed expression on her face.
“Come down from there before I bring you down.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Clint had to do some wriggling to get his legs unhooked from the equipment, and he was definitely voiding his worker’s comp by doing that, he realized, but he managed to free himself and drop, somewhat gracelessly, to the floor. At least he didn’t fall on his ass in front of Tasha. That would have been embarrassing.
One of her hands pressed against his cheek. “You’re bright red, you dope. How long were you up there?”
“I don’t know, what do I look like, a stopwatch?”
“No, you look like a tomato,” Tasha scolded. “Get yourself together, Barton. You’ve got to at least try to keep a couple of those brain cells alive. I need you to be able to hold a conversation by this afternoon.”
“Why?” Clint asked, pushing her hand away. It was probably only due to her apparent good mood that she allowed it. “What’s going on this afternoon?”
“Lunch with Spidey and the team.”
“We have lunch with Spidey and the team every day,” Clint said with a frown.
“Yeah, and you’ve normally killed off any intelligent speech you might have mustered up by then,” Nat quipped, giving him a slap to the side of the head. It probably didn’t help the lingering dizziness, but if that was the worst she was going to give him, he wasn’t about to complain. “It’s a special occasion today.”
“Oh, right,” Clint’s expression opened up, betraying his interest. “Oktoberfest starts today, doesn’t it?”
“God, I’m too late,” Tasha groaned, head tipping back. “You already killed them all. You’re already an idiot.”
“That has nothing to do with the gymnastics,” Clint sniffed. “That’s just my natural state. So if you’re not talking about the biggest beer-centric festival in the world, what are you talking about?”
“It’s Spidey’s anniversary with us,” Nat informed him. “We’re all doing lunch, and we’re going to get him a gift.”
“Yeah?” Clint pursed his lips, nodding. “You got an idea about what to get him?”
“I’ve got an idea,” Nat nodded. “And I’d really like you to not wreck it by acting like a complete buffoon.”
“Sorry,” Clint shook his head. “There’s not going to be any avoiding that. Just gonna go ahead and warn you now.”
“Yeah,” Tasha’s eyes sparkled with amusement even as she shook her head with mock disappointment. “I know. It was worth a shot, though.”
“Fair enough.” Clint slung his bow onto his back to he could cross his arms. “Has it really been a year already? When did we meet him first? I think my first thing with him was the slime, right?”
“No,” Tasha shook her head. “He was at the thing with the bees.”
“The bees!” Clint exclaimed, nostalgia lighting in his chest. “I forgot about the bees. Those things were huge . Yeah, I remember that, he was there. Wow, a year,” He beamed. “Didn’t take long for the little twep to worm his way in here, huh? Too charming for his own good. He even got you wrapped around his finger.”
“Hardly,” Natasha deadpanned, but the quirk in her lips betrayed the truth. She was just as smitten by the little guy as the rest of them. It was honestly sad, how little resistance they’d managed to put up to his overtures of friendship. Clint would have been worried about it if the kid weren’t unicorn-worthy levels of pure.
“You need any help getting this little shindig together?” Clint asked, eyebrows lifting expectantly, and Tasha shrugged.
“I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to tag along.”
“Nice. ‘Cause my head is killing me, so I should probably find something else to do for a while.”
“Ты абсолютный гребаный идиот, просто иди со мной.”
“Hey, there’s no call for the kind of language.”
“Let’s go, dumbass,” Natasha snorted, shaking her head one more time as she turned to leave the gym. Clint dutifully stored his bow, deciding not to piss Tony off more than necessary today, before trotting out after her.
---
“Tony, have you been up all night?”
The voice jostled Tony from his focus and he looked up, blinking owlishly at the intruder in his lab. Oh, wait, no, he had access. “Bruce,” He lifted a hand towards his eyes, intending to rub at them, but then noticed just in time that they were covered in oil and restrained himself. “Hey. All night? What time is it?”
“It’s about to be eight o’clock.”
“In the morning? Shit. Sorry, Bruce, my bad. I know we said I’d try and get to bed by three, it’s just—”
“I know,” Bruce gave him a tired smile and a cup of coffee. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I already know. You’re just a workaholic.”
“Does it even count as working when it’s also my main hobby?” Tony challenged, turning back to look at the greasy machinery components in front of him.”Besides, it’s not like it’s for the company or anything, Dum-E just needed a tune-up.”
The robot beeped in response.
“Tony,” Bruce scolded, leaning against the other side of the table. “You didn’t turn him off? That’s dangerous.”
“You don’t give a man anesthesia during brain surgery, Bruce. You gotta keep him awake so you know he’s still working right.”
“I’m not sure that’s an apt metaphor.”
“Sure it is,” Tony waved a blackened hand in Bruce’s direction. “Who died and made you metaphor king, anyway?”
“Isn’t that a Sara Bareilles song?” Bruce wondered aloud, and Tony shot him a disgusted look.
“First of all, no, I don’t think that’s how it goes. Secondly, I am so massively disappointed that you even have a vague idea of how one of Sara Bareilles’ songs goes that I can barely look at you.”
“Seems like you have a vague idea of how it goes, too,” Bruce challenged him, sipping at his tea. Tony wondered if he’d run out of the ones Spidey had bought for him, yet. He seemed to treat them differently from his normal ones: saving them for special occasions, he claimed.
“Shit, busted,” Tony muttered, sticking his fingers back inside Dum-E’s workings before retracting them quickly with a yelp.
“Alright,” Bruce stepped in, then rounding the table to grip Tony by the elbow. “That’s enough of that.”
“Hey, I’m not a child ,” Tony scoffed even as Bruce bodily hauled him away from Dum-E.
“You might as well be,” Bruce answered dryly, pulling him over to the sink. “Wash your hands. You’re going to have some breakfast, and then you’re going to take a nap. Natasha said she already talked to you, right?”
“Huh? Oh, maybe— about Spidey?”
“Right. You need to get some sleep before then so that you aren’t crashing when everybody gets together.”
“Oh, whatever,” Tony rolled his eyes, but obediently started to wash his hands. Only for Bruce, he thought sullenly, but his eyes drifted across the lab to the brightly colored stuffed animal safely stored on a shelf between vials of volatile material.
Hmm. Maybe he ought to find a better place for Spider-Bear.
“Speaking of the man of the hour,” Tony’s eyes tracked back to Bruce. Yeah, that had been a little mechanical. How long had he been up? He wasn’t sure. “Where is he? Still asleep?”
“He’s already gone for the morning,” Bruce told him, shaking his head. “He ought to be back in time, though. His schedule’s been pretty consistent lately.”
“He’s been sleeping more regularly, huh?” Tony tried to sound casual and uninterested, but he knew that it wouldn’t go unnoticed that he’d been keeping track of Spidey’s sleeping patterns.
“Yeah,” That little smile on Bruce’s face was confirmation of his thought. “He’s usually sleeping by one in the morning.”
“Still not enough sleep,” Tony said with a frown. “He’s usually gone by, what, six-thirty or seven?”
“I don’t think you’re one to talk, Tony,” Bruce snickered, and Tony had to roll his eyes.
“We’re working off of ‘do as I say, not as I do’ principles here, okay, Bruce? Just stick with me, here. We need to get that kid to start sleeping in a little later.”
“It seems like he’s doing alright, so far,” Bruce mused. “But we can keep an eye on him, make sure he’s doing alright. He’s still sleeping in on weekends, anyway.”
Tony snorted. “Just more proof he needs to sleep more.”
“Tony, your hands have been clean for a couple of minutes, now, and you’re still washing them. Once again, I don’t think you’re one to talk.”
Tony flushed with embarrassment, shutting off the faucet and flicking water from his hands into the sink. “You can’t tell me that you don’t wish Spidey would sleep more.”
“I do,” Bruce admitted. “Worries about you aside, I do wish he’d sleep more. But he’s doing okay, Tony. I don’t think you need to kick into Dad Mode.”
“Dad Mode!” Tony echoed, outraged. “I am not in Dad Mode. I’m not the kid’s dad. I’m his mentor-slash-friend-slash-cool-celebrity. I just look out for him because he’s a kid, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He just needs somebody to keep an eye on him, okay, and if that has to be me , then that’s not exactly my fault, right? He’s just a damn kid, Bruce, you want me to let him stagger around like he’s blind, not knowing which way is up? Obviously I’m going to help him out when I can and worry about him when I can’t. That’s normal. That’s not Dad Mode. I’m not…” His voice slowly tapered off as his mind raced, and he finally allowed himself to press a still wet hand to his eyes. “Oh, god, I’m the kid’s dad, aren’t I?”
“More or less,” Bruce agreed, sounding more cheerful now that Tony had finally admitted it. Finally admitted it , he repeated to himself with no small amount of disgust. How long had this thought been festering at the back of his head? Tony Stark was never meant to be a dad. “Think of yourself as more of a weird co-parent with the rest of the team.”
Okay, Tony thought, gut still clenching with nerves. Okay, weird co-parent. He could do weird co-parent.
“Anyway,” Bruce’s hand on his shoulder shook him free of his anxiety and he felt a moment of soothing relief. If Bruce could do this, he thought, meeting his eyes, then Tony could do it, too. Besides, it wasn’t like Spidey was expecting Tony to be his dad. It had just kind of… happened. “Let’s get you upstairs. You need to be a good role model for Spidey.”
“Yeah,” Tony agreed, looking at his hands, clean of oil, then back to Dum-E, who had already entered sleep mode, the traitor. “Okay.”
---
Thunder rumbled through a clear sky as the Bifrost touched down against Stark Tower around eleven o’clock in the morning.
Thor strode into the tower, cape flowing behind him in that way he really liked. He spotted Natasha first, and she stood to greet him.
“Thor,” She nodded, and Thor reached out to grip her arm with a flash of a grin as she returned the gesture. “Glad you could make it.”
“Of course,” He agreed, forcing himself to sound serious, despite his light-hearted mood. “When Heimdall informed me that you’d been asking for me, I came straight away. So what’s going on? An alien invasion? A new, previously unknown splinter of Hydra? Some sort of horrible beast ravaging the city?”
“No,” Natasha’s voice was even, but Thor could still hear the laughter hidden behind it. “I wanted to invite you to lunch.”
“Oh,” Thor released Natasha’s arm, a broad grin returning to his face. “Honestly that’s even better.”
“I thought you might feel that way,” Natasha agreed with a smile. “We’re celebrating knowing Spider-Man for a year, now.”
“Ah! A worthy cause for a feast,” Thor’s eyes crinkled with amusement as Natasha rolled hers. She had caught on a long time ago that he liked to play on the Midgardian’s strange preconceptions of what Asgard must be like, so she wasn’t taken in my his talk of feasts or fighting the way some of the others were. It was a shame that he hadn’t managed to trick her, too, it was very funny, but it was nice having someone else in on the joke. “When is it to take place?” He glanced around the room. Steve and Bucky were talking quietly with Clint in one corner, while Bruce and Tony could be heard chattering from the kitchen.
“Well, I think it’ll be ready, soon,” Natasha glanced towards the kitchen, one eyebrow quirking, so we’re just waiting on Spidey. He should be here before much longer.”
“Perfect,” Thor rubbed his hands together cheerfully. “In the meantime, I’ve had something on my mind, and I hope you can provide me some answers.”
“Sure, Thor,” Natasha’s voice was casually aloof as she turned her attention back to him. She reminded him of Loki, sometimes. “What is it?”
“How is young Spider-Man doing ? The last time I saw him he was… not as well as I had grown to expect.”
“God,” Natasha snorted, shaking her head, and he blinked. “Spidey’s right. We are a bunch of worry-warts, aren’t we? It seems like that boy’s been the only topic of conversation in this tower all morning long.”
“Oh?” Thor’s arms crossed as he leaned forward, concerned. “Is he still not well?”
“No, no,” Natasha shook her head, that smile returning. “He’s doing… pretty good, all things considered. He’s gone through a pretty rough patch, lately, but he’s coming around, now. Things are really looking up for him, I think.”
“Excellent,” Thor’s shoulders slumped as he huffed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad.”
“Aren’t we all,” Natasha agreed, and the softness in her eyes betrayed the depth of emotion she was feeling that she no doubt had intended to hide.
“Well!” Thor clapped his hands together, visibly startling everyone in the room. “I think I’ll go see if I can provide any assistance in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Thor,” Natasha agreed, and the god turned to stroll towards the archway, feeling good.
So Spider-Man was doing better, he thought, the worry he’d harbored for several months now easing. Good.
---
Peter scrambled up onto the balcony, his webbing bag clutched in one hand as he fumbled for the doorknob. He managed to open the door to the common room and was surprised to find the entire team loitering around inside. He hastily dropped the bag and slid it out of sight of the door, letting it rest on the balcony. It would be fine there for now.
“Spidey!” Clint called his name first, attracting the attention of the other Avengers. Everyone looked so happy, Peter marveled, heart lifting rapidly. “Welcome back.”
“Uh— thanks,” He couldn’t contain the grin that spread under his mask. “What’s going on?”
“It’s lunch time,” Natasha told him, head tilting towards the kitchen. “We were waiting for you.”
“Oh— you didn’t have to do that,” Peter felt touched that they had, though. “You could have eaten without me.”
“Not today we couldn’t twerp,” Tony came up beside him slinging an arm around his shoulders and steering him for the kitchen.
“Today? Why not?” Peter glanced over his shoulder as the rest of the Avengers began to migrate into the kitchen with them.
“One year ago today,” Steve told him, voice full of pride. “We met a young hero with a bad reputation and a lot of potential.”
“Today?” Peter said again, racking his brain. How had it been a year already? So much had happened, but it felt like such a short time ago. “Wow, seriously?”
“Seriously,” Bucky agreed, and Peter twisted to spot him as Tony pushed him down into a chair.
“I didn’t realize you guys had been keeping track,” Peter admitted.
“I don’t think you understand what an impact you’ve had on this team,” Bruce told him, sitting down across from him. Seats were filling up quickly, and Peter realized this was way more of them than there usually were at once. It was cool, the whole group being together like this. “We’re all glad to have you in our lives.”
“Wow,” Peter’s heart was making a bid for escape, scrambling up into his throat. “You guys, that’s… that’s really nice.”
“It’s true ,” Thor corrected him, and Peter couldn’t stop smiling, now. His anxiety was melting away in the face of its most feared adversary: the love and support of the people around him.
God, that was cheesy, Peter thought with an internal cringe, but it didn’t lessen the moment in the slightest.
As if to confirm his thoughts, Natasha slid into the seat next to him, speaking. “We care about you, Spidey,” She told him. “And we’re glad you’re here. I think I speak for everyone when I say… we love you, Spidey.”
“Oh my god,” Peter was glad that the mask was hiding the way his face was screwing up with emotion. “I can’t believe you guys are cornering me like this right now,” he giggled and the sound was a little too tearful to pass off as nonchalant. A round of laughter circled the table, but Peter swallowed and spoke up again. “I… I’m so touched, you guys. I love you, too. You’re like…” He glanced around at the assembled Avengers. They were all watching him with tenderness in their eyes that he’d seen in Gwen’s eyes. He’d seen it in Aunt May and Uncle Ben. And before that, when he was almost too young to remember, in the eyes of his parents. “You’re family to me.”
Natasha placed an envelope on the table and slid it in front of him.
“This is for you, you little sap,” She murmured, and Peter giggled again, running a hand over the top of his mask.
“Really? You didn’t have to get me anything. Gosh, now I look like a jerk. I didn’t get you guys anything.”
“Just open it, you dweeb,” Clint told him from further down the table, where he had his chin propped on both fists and a grin spread over his face.
Peter rolled his eyes, but picked up the envelope. It wasn’t sealed, so he flipped it open and pulled out a piece of plastic the size of a credit card. Peter stared at it, disbelieving for a few moments before reading the words printed there aloud.
“Official Avengers Membership Card,” Peter looked at Tony. “Is this for real?”
“Well, the card is fake,” Tony told him, earning a glare from Natasha. “None of the rest of us have cards. But the offer is real.”
“Wait— you want me to be an Avenger?” Peter’s brain was shorting out. “I’m— what?”
“If you want to,” Bruce impressed on him. “Only if you want to.”
“No pressure,” Steve agreed. “It’s your choice. But even if you say no, the offer is going to stand. If you ever change your mind, then you’re still invited.”
Peter stared at the card in his hand. His heart was racing. He wasn’t an Avenger, he thought. He wasn’t sure he deserved to be an Avenger.
“D-don’t you need to know who I am in order for me to be an Avenger?” Peter stammered, eyebrows furrowing under his mask.
“SHIELD probably already knows,” Natasha told him with a shrug. “And they’re the only ones who would even have a reason to need to know. The rest of us don’t need to. We know you, Spidey. We trust you. And we want you with us.”
“We want you in the family,” Thor spoke up, and Peter swallowed hard around that revelation.
“Of course, you’ll be a part of the family even if you say no,” Clint added flippantly. “There’s no getting away from us now. It’s way too late for that.”
“You should have ducked out after that first meeting if you wanted to get out of being our little brother,” Natasha bumped his shoulder and Peter laughed, doubt clearing.
“I don’t want out,” He informed her as he turned to look at her. “It’s too late for me to get rid of you? Ha . Just wait until you try and get rid of me . I tend to stick .”
“God,” Natasha pressed a palm against her eyes as the other occupants of the room groaned. “Alright, I’m revoking your card. Give it back.”
“No way,” Peter stuffed it into one of his pockets, chin high with pride. “I’m keeping it. In fact, As the only Avenger with an actual Official Membership Card, I’m gonna have to institute a no retaliation for puns rule.”
“Absolutely not,” Steve spoke up, vetoing him, and Peter grinned, shrugging one shoulder.
“Worth a shot.”
“So is this a yes?” Thor prodded him across Natasha, and Peter nodded.
“Yeah,” he agreed, beaming. “Yeah, it’s a yes.” He looked around the table to find unabashed delight and downright glee on the faces around him.
“Welcome to the Avengers, Spidey,” Tony had a grin on his face more sincere than any Peter had ever seen him wear, and it began to sink in that these people really did care about him as much as they claimed.
Wow.
“Cheers, Spidey,” Clint lifted a can of soda in salute to him, corny but full-spirited enough that the other Avengers seemed to feel compelled to follow.
“Cheers!”
“Let’s eat,” Thor urged, and the kitchen dissolved into the sounds of utensils clinking against bowls and plates as food was served out. Peter still felt so overwhelmed that he couldn’t bring himself to reach for food, but it hardly mattered: the Avengers seemed perfectly content to load up his plate for him.
As the others dug in around him, Peter’s heart swelled and he felt a shift in his world as the Avenger’s kitchen turned into his kitchen. The Avenger’s tower turned, just like that, into home.
“Eat up, Spidey,” Steve instructed him, and Peter rose back up to the surface of the smooth, rosy-gold water of his thoughts.
“Yeah,” he agreed, feeling the coils of tension that lived in his body relax.
---
Peter was practically glued to the television when Bruce and Tony staggered out of the elevator around nine in the morning. A quick glance told him all he needed to know: they’d been up all night again, working on something that almost certainly could have waited while they got some sleep. But hey, who was he to judge? He did his best mechanical work in the middle of the night, too.
“Hey, Spidey,” Bruce saw him first and greeted him with a wave, stifling a yawn with his other hand. “Good morning.”
“Morning, twerp,” Peter could see Tony nodding towards him in his periphery as he shuffled past and into the kitchen. He was after coffee, Peter thought, smiling under his mask as he heard the gurgling sound of the machine being turned on.
“Hey, guys,” Peter greeted them from where he sat, knees practically pulled up to his chin. It was a distracted enough greeting that it clearly struck some kind of cord in the two of them, because Bruce paused in the door before Tony pushed past him to come back out into the common room.
“What are you watching there, Thwippy?” Tony asked, coming up behind him to lean on the couch.
“The news,” Peter informed him, sparing only a short glance up. “Have you heard about this? Reed Richards, that physicist? He and some other people—” He read the names off the screen as they scrolled by, pointing. “Sue Storm, Johnny Storm, and Ben Grimm— there was some kind of accident.”
“An accident?” Bruce came over, then, voice concerned. “What kind of accident? Are they okay?” It occurred to Peter that these guys might actually know Reed Richards and that this was not the best way to introduce them to the story.
“Yeah! Look!” Peter flapped his hand at the screen. “Apparently they got hit by some kind of radiation burst, or something, and now they all have super powers. They’re calling themselves the Fantastic Four!”
“No shit?” Tony propped himself on his elbows. He was crowding Peter, but it was fine. As close as they had become, Peter didn’t think he would be able to begrudge Tony Stark being in his space. “Well, it stands to reason,” he added airily a moment later. “Richards always did copy everything I did, it makes sense that he’d try and horn in on this, too.”
“He wasn’t copying you, Tony,” Bruce snorted from where he was sliding down into the seat next to Peter. His heart almost couldn’t take it for a second, there, but then he refocused on the superbeings on screen. “It’s called scientific advancement.”
“It’s called sci entific ad vancement ,” Tony repeated in an incredibly childish mockery of Bruce’s voice that only served to make the other man laugh. “Yeah, right. I bet you he’s working on an arc reactor of his own right now ,” Tony crossed his arms sullenly over the glow in his chest and Peter shot him a grin.
“I don’t know, Tony,” he said with a shrug. “If he manages to figure out this radiation thing he’s working on, he won’t need an arc reactor.”
“Nobody asked your opinion,” Tony informed him with a withering glare that made Peter giggle uncomfortably before turning back around to the television.
“So, anyway ,” Peter continued. “Apparently they have superpowers now and they’re a superhero team and everything. They just fought like, a bunch of mole men or something this morning. It was insane . I wish I’d heard about it before it was over, I would have gone to help out! You know, say hello, welcome to the neighborhood, we have a Superhero Association meeting this Friday, and Beth is bringing gluten free brownies.”
“Honestly, I feel like sometimes he’s trying to say something,” Tony said over Peter’s head to Bruce, who was grinning. “God, it’s almost like he wants to communicate . But those sounds coming out of his mouth just can’t be language . They make no sense.”
“Maybe Reed Richards can spend some time devoted to the study of understanding Spider-Speech,” Peter huffed the challenge and he felt Tony’s knuckles dig into the top of his mask, ruffling affectionately.
“If he did, he would only be copying Tony,” Bruce added with a snicker. “He would say that that’s what he’s been doing this past year and Dr. Richards was stealing his research again.”
“Well he would be ,” Tony flicked Peter’s ear, then straightened up. “I’m getting coffee. And just for that, Bruce, you’re not getting any.”
“I drink tea anyway,” Bruce reminded him, staying on the couch next to Peter as both of them turned their attention away from the sulking billionaire in the room, which, somehow, was not a weird thing for Peter to ignore, anymore.
On the screen, the Fantastic Four were disappearing back into the Baxter Building where they lived.
“It kind of sucks,” Peter mused aloud. “That they never even had the choice of hiding their identities. Their station was streaming them when that radiation burst hit.” He laughed, thrusting a hand towards the screen, where the news station was recycling footage from earlier, talking over the shaky, flickering shots of them fighting. Now those were some superpowers! “They’re not even wearing masks, everybody already knew even before they decided to be superheroes! How on Earth do they intend to ever have privacy again?”
“Living somewhere like the Baxter Building probably helps,” Bruce offered, and Peter nodded reluctantly, acknowledging that the high security of the building probably kept sightseers at a safe distance.
“Yeah, but what about living a normal life? How do they expect to live their lives, you know, without people mobbing them?”
“People don’t mob us ,” Bruce reminded him, then frowned. “Well, Steve and Tony, maybe, and Thor sometimes, but the rest of us aren’t all that recognizable.”
“Yeah, but these guys are already kind of low-key celebrities, right?” Peter leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. “Johnny Storm— that guy probably gets paid by the tabloids, he’s in them so often. And obviously Dr. Richards is famous.”
“Not everyone is as concerned with the day-to-day lives of scientists as you are, Spidey,” Tony spoke up as he returned, a mug of coffee cradled in his hands. “Most people are just content to hear about the cool shit we put out, instead of worrying about what brand of corn flakes we like best.”
“That was not me being creepy,” Peter insisted, thrusting a finger accusingly towards Tony. “That was just me noticing that you get the unsweetened kind all the time instead of the frosted ones, which are the good ones.”
“You’ll thank me when you’re older,” Tony deadpanned, flopping down onto the couch on Peter’s other side. Somehow his hand had, apparently, achieved some kind of gyroscopic state, because the coffee didn’t so much as slosh over the edge of the mug. He was so cool .
“Not likely,” Peter wrapped his arms back around his knees as he leaned forward, the eyes of his mask glinting with the reflected light from the television. “Maybe we should go say hi.”
“What?” Bruce shot him a surprised look.
“I’m just saying,” Peter shrugged. “It can be… hard, having new powers, not knowing what’s going on, getting started. We could be neighborly about it.”
“Neighborly?” Tony stared at him. “Well, hell, we are neighbors, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, they’re like, right next door, right?”
“Yeah,” Tony looked out the window. They could actually see the Baxter building, Peter realized. It was right there, diagonally across the street. It was so strange to think that inside that building were four new superheroes.
“How weird is that,” Peter vocalized the thought. “Having superheroes for neighbors?”
“You’ve had superheroes for roommates for months, now,” Bruce pointed out, and Peter waved a hand dismissively.
“It’s not the same thing. These guys aren’t part of the Avengers. They’re… something else.”
“What, so the Avengers are just a bunch of nobodies, now, huh?” Tony demanded, shooting him a sour look, and Peter relented.
“No,” Peter corrected him with a hidden grin. “I just mean that they’re not part of the family.”
That gave Tony pause. “You sappy little monster,” Tony elbowed him, but there was a hint of happiness in his voice as the tension eased out of his shoulders. “Shut up.”
“But really though,” Peter said, pushing himself up off the couch and crossing to the window. The tinted glass on the other building obviously was too dark to see inside, but they were there , he knew. “I think I might go introduce myself.
“Are you sure they want visitors right now?” Bruce prompted. “They’re probably going through a lot right now.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Peter agreed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “They’re gonna need somebody they can rely on. It’s easier, that way.” It dawned on him slowly that the Avengers had taught him that lesson. Before, he’d been so ready to go it alone. But now…
It was easier, with someone to lean on.
Peter smiled.
“Gotta pay it forward, right?” He spun around, hands propped on his hips. “You guys helped me when I needed it. You’re still helping me. It’s only right that I do the same for them. Or, at least, I can try.”
“Alright,” Tony groaned, draining the last of his coffee. “I see where you’re going with this. You want to invite them to the tower. Fine, kid, do what you want.”
“What, and make them feel like they’ve been summoned by the real heroes ?” Peter made air quotes around his words as he stressed them. “Definitely not. I’m going to them. Besides, it’s not like it’s far. One swing’ll have me on the roof.”
“Jesus. Okay. Do you want company?”
Tony Stark just asked Peter if he wanted company on his mission to go welcome the Fantastic Four to the slowly growing superhero community. Peter had gone through a lot of crap, in this last year, but that was one of the coolest things that had ever happened to him.
“Yeah,” Peter agreed, nodding rapidly. “That would be cool. Should we invite the whole team?”
“That might be… a little much,” Bruce spoke up quickly. “You don’t want to overwhelm them.”
“Oh— right. Yeah. Good call.” Peter flashed a thumbs up to Bruce, who relaxed into the couch. “Do you want to come, though?”
“I’d better not,” Bruce grimaced as Tony flicked his wrists, summoning one of his suits. A flashy one, no doubt. “Ben… he might not take too kindly to me showing up.”
“Why?” Peter asked, blinking. “You guys have… stuff in common, right?”
“Exactly,” Bruce agreed. “It might be something of a sore spot. I’d better not prod, for now.”
Right, Peter realized. It didn’t seem like Ben was able to turn back to his normal self. It might make him upset to see Bruce Banner, notably not the Hulk.
“Okay,” Peter agreed, nodding. By the time he turned back to Tony, he was clad in gleaming red and gold. Definitely a more ornate suit than normal. “I didn’t realize this was a black tie event,” He quipped, and Tony’s arms crossed.
“If it was a black tie event, I’d have already punted you out the window myself. So are we going or what?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter rushed for the balcony, tugging the doors open. “We’re going.”
---
Peter stood outside the door, a smile on his face. He had just knocked, and it opened to reveal Aunt May beaming at him.
“Peter, Gwen,” She exclaimed, delighted, and Gwen was there next to him, holding her hand. “I’m so happy you could make it. Come inside!”
“Hi, Aunt May,” Peter stepped forward and hugged her tightly for hours, grief and joy warring nonsensically in his chest. “Thanks for having us.” He let go and made room for Gwen, who hugged Aunt May as he looked around. The apartment was just as it always was: photos on the walls, television turned to the news where a story on the Avengers played, Aunt May’s coat hung next to Uncle Ben’s on the rack. “Is Uncle Ben here?”
“Of course, of course,” Aunt May fussed over him as he and Gwen hung up their coats, shaking off the summer heat. “How are the kids?” Peter hooked his Spider-Man mask onto one of the pegs and looked away from it to find Gwen. She didn’t look right, but it was her. She was so beautiful.
“They’re good,” Peter beamed at her. He and Gwen had two or three kids, or maybe she had said kid , and they only had one. It was hard to say for sure. “Bruce is watching them, tonight.”
“How sweet,” They were in the kitchen, watching Aunt May cook. Peter knew she and Gwen were talking, but all he could do was watch the two of them. It didn’t matter what they were saying, just that they were saying it. The two of them had a rapport built over years of closeness that introduced a burst of love into the still tumultuous emotions still wrestling inside him. He put his Spider-Man mask on the table with a smile.
There was a hand on his shoulder and Peter turned around. He was standing in the park with Uncle Ben, who hugged him like he always did, and for a few moments, Peter couldn’t breathe.
“Good to see you, Pete,” He mumbled, face soft, graying hair showing no sign of the years that were supposed to have past. Peter smiled back at him. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Uncle Ben,” Peter’s chest felt tight, but he was so happy.
“You look good, Pete,” Uncle Ben was examining him. “Better than you’ve looked in a while.”
“I feel better,” Peter agreed, sitting down on the bench near them. Uncle Ben sat next to him and Peter set the mask between them.
“I’m glad,” Uncle Ben slung an arm around his shoulders, and Gwen and Aunt May sat down at the table across from them. Aunt May had set up dinner while he wasn’t looking.
“I love you,” Peter said to his Uncle, then to his Aunt, “I love you.” He met Gwen’s eyes. He couldn’t see the color of her eyes. “I love you.”
“We love you, too.”
“Peter,” It was Gwen, and he turned to look at her fully. “What is that in your hands?”
Peter looked down at where he was holding the mask. Those eyes stared passively back up at him, and Peter found that the malice he’d feared that he would find there was absent.
“My mask,” Peter answered. “I’m Spider-Man.”
“Oh,” Gwen nodded, like it was no big deal, and Aunt May chuckled.
“Well what are you doing waiting around here, dear?” She prompted, forcing a frown that didn’t fit with the laughter still lingering in her eyes. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Yeah,” Peter looked at the mask again, heart beating faster. “I do.” He pulled the mask over his face and saw his family smiling at him. Uncle Ben, Aunt May, Gwen, Steve, Tony, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Thor, Bruce. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Stay safe,” Steve warned him as Aunt May started filling his plate.
“Call us if you need anything,” Tony added, helping himself.
“I will,” Peter agreed, waving as he turned to jog out the door. “Love you!”
“We love you, too, Peter.”
Peter woke up with his alarm, groping blindly on the bedside table until he managed to close his hand on it. Time to get up, he thought, blinking blearily behind his lenses. He tapped the screen on to shut off the jangling music and caught sight of a text.
MM: I think I have everything I need for your case. Don’t worry about coming in today; just take a day off. Sleep in. I’ll get in contact with you on Monday and we’ll start the proceedings
PP: Oh ok
PP: Sounds good
PP: So Ill talk to you on monday then
PP: Thanks for everything Matt
MM: You’re welcome, Peter. I’m glad I could help out
He got to stay home today, Peter thought with a sleepy kind of content, burrowing back under his blankets.
Home .
Peter made a decision and slowly the sleep crept away from his brain.
He needed to take a shower, he thought, reluctantly dragging himself out of bed. Shutting himself securely in the bathroom, he tugged his mask off and gave himself an appraising once-over in the mirror.
He looked so normal .
No point in wasting time staring at a perfectly normal guy in the mirror, Peter thought with no small amount of pleasure before turning the water on in the shower. He had places to be.
---
The Avengers still met for breakfast every morning, even though Spidey didn’t usually attend anymore. Steve insisted that it was good for team building, despite the fact that they were all close enough to consider each other family by now.
He was just a sap, Bucky knew.
Bucky wasn’t sure why he bothered to turn up to these team bonding things. He was still mostly asleep by the time JARVIS finally managed to usher him out of his room and up to the common floor. He sat at the table silently, eating whatever had been cooked that morning without much comment. The others chattered around him and, sure, he heard what they were saying, but this wasn’t a surveillance mission. He was supposed to join in.
He just wasn’t much of a joiner, he supposed.
That morning was much like the others. He could hear JARVIS trying to wake him up, but he pulled a pillow over his head in an attempt to block him out.
“St. Barnes,” JARVIS continued to pester him. Tony had programmed him to do just that, Bucky was sure. “Good morning. Cpt. Rogers has requested your presence for breakfast.” Bucky groaned under the pillow, stretching his legs out under the blankets.
“Jesus Christ. You people are relentless. Tell him I’ll be there in ten.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ten minutes was maybe something of an underestimation: it took him eight just to manage to get out of bed. He doubted that anyone would have much more to say about it than a few snide comments about cold food, though, so he didn’t push himself too much. Today was a gray kind of day where he really just wanted to stay in bed the whole time, but hell, it wasn’t like he’d manage to get much more sleep anyway.
It was nearly twenty minutes later that he shuffled out of the elevator, still in the same clothes he’d fallen asleep in last night. He could hear chatter coming from the kitchen already and he rolled his eyes, bracing himself.
Inside the majority of the Avengers were sat at the table, eating already. Spidey was, predictably, absent, but everyone else seemed to have showed up already. Steve caught his eye, mischief on his face like he intended to tease, but he seemed to think better of it when he took in Bucky’s somewhat haggard appearance. Thank fuck for that at least, he thought as Steve turned back to where he was talking to Natasha.
Bucky slumped down into one of the empty seats at the table with his back to the wall. Old habits, he thought tiredly, glad that there was still a seat available with a view of the door. The best view of the door, actually, he mused as he halfheartedly forked a waffle onto his plate. Considering that the other empty chair was directly across from him, and every other chair would have an at least partially obstructed view of anyone who were to enter the room. It was so perfect that he kind of had to wonder whether they’d done it on purpose, knowing how he could be about sitting in a vulnerable position.
They weren’t so bad, he supposed.
Bucky was still haphazardly smearing cold butter onto the cold waffle when a teenager strode into the room and sat down across from Bucky. The conversation in the room stopped cold as everyone noticed Peter Parker sitting at their breakfast table, helping himself to their scrambled eggs.
The silence in the room was complete except for the clink of Peter’s fork against the ceramic of his plate as he doggedly ignored the stares of the Avengers.
He didn’t look exactly like the Chameleon had represented him, but it was close. So close that he was immediately recognizable despite the fact that the imposter had been the only time Bucky had seen Peter’s face before today. He found himself fascinated as he soaked in the details: longish, fluffy hair, full cheeks, brown eyes. Those freckles they’d seen on his jaw a million times found a home with the ones that powdered his cheekbones and forehead.
As he took in the superficial features, he noticed the lines of tension in Peter’s shoulders. The way he held his head down, not looking at anyone, not speaking, not doing much at all to draw attention to himself despite the fact that it was way too late for that. The poor kid looked terrified, he thought with a surge of sympathy that developed rapidly into pride. He was terrified, but he was here.
Casting his attention around the table, he found that the Avengers were downright gaping at Peter: aside from Natasha, of course, who looked just as proud as Bucky felt. None of them had found any words to say, yet, but Bucky knew that it was only a matter of time. In a few minutes, in a few seconds, there would be an explosion and everyone would be all over the poor kid. He didn’t deserve to have to put up with that.
Bucky decided to throw him a bone. Kicking Stark under the table managed to drag the man’s attention towards him, and Bucky locked eyes with him for a moment. Follow my lead, he demanded silently, hoping that the rattled-looking Stark would get the message.
“Morning, Spidey,” He grumbled, as if it were a normal morning. He caught several incredulous stares headed straight for him before he lowered his own head again, waiting for a response from Spidey.
“Uh,” The kid’s voice— god, it was a kid’s voice. He recognized it, obviously, but it was so strange to have all the pieces in front of him finally connecting. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Stark wrenched his gaze away from Bucky to redirect on Peter with that laser focus. “So, Spidey…” Bucky prepared to kick Stark under the table again, but he relaxed again as he continued. “Sleep well?”
Peter shot Stark a grateful look, and it was so, so weird to see the expression he’d always hidden behind that mask of his. “Yeah. Really well. Thanks.”
“Sure. Anyway, Bruce, as I was saying: it’s really not as impressive as he thinks it is, because the last time we tried that, it all turned out to be a monumental waste of money and time that ultimately came to nothing. I get that it’s scientific advancement, and any scientific advancement is good , but don’t you think we could find some kind of application that’s less objectively stupid ?”
As Stark blathered on to Bruce about… whatever he was talking about, the tension bled from the room. Steve turned back to Natasha, who gave Bucky a nod before returning to her conversation. Clint and Thor, silent for the entire exchange, quickly went back to thumb wrestling under the table, although he could see them glancing over at Peter more often than they were paying attention to each other.
Bucky felt eyes on him and he looked up to find Spidey looking at him, gratitude shining out of his eyes. Bucky could still feel the energy brimming in the room: everyone was dying to pester Spidey about this, but for the moment they were letting it slide.
After all, it was way too damn early for all this drama.
Bucky grabbed for the syrup and drowned his waffle in it.
---
It was some hours later that they all found themselves crammed into the common room. The afternoon sun was shining in through the window and the sky outside was blue. The television was shut off and Peter Parker was sitting in a web hammock across from the couches, so that he could see everyone.
“So that’s the situation,” Peter said, nerves bubbling in his stomach. “With my family and Gwen gone, CPS is going to want to send me to live with my cousin across the country. But I really, really don’t want to leave New York. That’s a big reason I… haven’t told you guys who I am until now. I didn’t want to put you in any kind of situation where you had a runaway kid on your hands that you felt like you needed to do something about.”
“We could have helped you, you stubborn little jerk,” Tony said, crossing his arms. “We have a lot more resources than a runaway teenager does.”
“I know,” Peter held up his hands apologetically, grinning wryly. He caught Clint doing a double-take, like he hadn’t expected to see Peter’s face when he looked away from Tony. They kept doing that, he thought with good humor. Every time someone looked at him, they’d get that startled look all over again. He had kind of thought that it would be a one-time thing, and then they would stop forgetting, but it was like it was new every time. “But I was scared, you know? I didn’t want… I wasn’t willing to risk it.”
“But you are, now?” Steve prompted him, sounding a little touched.
“Well— yes and no,” Peter admitted, running his hand through his hair, and he could see every pair of eyes tracking the movement. This was so weird. “See, I definitely trust you guys. And I’m willing to take risks to be here with you. But… the risk of you guys turning me in is kind of a moot point, now.”
“Wait,” Natasha spoke up, then, her voice sharpening as she continued. “You don’t mean that you’re leaving, do you?”
“No! No, I’m not leaving,” Peter’s grin was filling up his whole face, he could feel the way it stretched his cheeks and he could see returning smiles on the faces of the other Avengers before he even continued. “I’ve been… working with a lawyer. Trying to get everything settled.”
“What do you mean?” Clint asked, brows furrowing. “How can you even afford a lawyer?”
“I’ve been working with this really great guy, Matt Murdock— the guy who did that trial on Wilson Fisk last year? He’s an amazing lawyer and he does cases pro bono. He’s been helping me out for free just because he wants to help and he knows I can’t pay him.” Peter puffed up with pride.
“Spidey, I’ve got lawyers,” Tony burst out, looking agitated. “I could have helped you with all this. You didn’t have to go looking for free lawyers.”
“No, I get that, I do,” Peter assured him. “But I wanted to be able to prove to the judge that I can take care of myself.”
“What judge?” Bruce was frowning at him. “What have you been working on?”
“Well,” Peter beamed again, straightening his back. “Next Monday we’re going to be petitioning for my legal emancipation from my guardian. I’ll be basically a legal adult. I won’t have to move away and I’ll be able to take care of myself.” He looked a little sheepish. “The last thing I have to do is find a job. Then I’ll meet all the qualifications, and we’ll be all ready to go. But it’s, um, a little difficult to find a job that pays enough to be financially independent when you’re sixteen. So I was kind of hoping…” He turned his best puppy-dog eyes on Tony. “Do you remember back when we met and you said that if I ever needed a job I should come to you because you’re always looking to hire people like me who like to invent stuff or whatever but to be honest I’m not entirely sure exactly what you said but I do remember that you offered me a job if I ever wanted one and well I don’t like to ask because I know it’s kind of weird especially now that you know how old I am but I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you have any open positions I would really, really like one and I don’t even necessarily mean an inventing one or anything even if you need someone to, I don’t know, sweep floors or wash out beakers or whatever you need, really anything, well I’d be willing to do it, I just need to get paid so that the judge will see that I’m financially independent or else he’ll deny my case and—”
Tony interrupted. “Okay, look, Spidey, I was going to wait for you to burn yourself out, there, but it kind of doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. Consider yourself hired. We’ll find something for you to do around here, don’t worry.”
Peter’s relief washed over him in a wave and he dropped backwards, groaning a sigh that was part elation, part running out of breath. “Oh my gosh, I’ve been working up the nerve to say that for weeks , I can’t believe it. Wow. Oh my gosh. What a relief.” He lifted his head, grinning at Tony. “Thanks. Thank you. I really can’t thank you enough.”
“Yeah, but you can thank me too much,” Tony flapped a hand at him. “Calm down, Spidey, don’t make a mess on my carpet, or I’ll make it your job to clean that up.”
“Yeah,” Peter sat back up, sheepish despite the wide smile still clinging to his face. “Sorry.”
“So how long is this whole court thing going to take?” Steve asked, brow furrowing. Peter shrugged.
“It can take up to six months. I was kind of worried about that at first, actually: since I was appealing to the court, I’d have to submit to the law and stop being a runaway. I thought that they’d send me out to live with my cousin in the meantime, which would mean no job.” His nose wrinkled. “But Matt and I called my cousin. He’s a nice guy, but he’s really getting too old to be raising kids, so when Matt suggested that he let me stay with friends in New York, he allowed it. Did you know that’s legal? He can just let me live in New York . And yeah, I mean, if those friends were to ask for money to support me, he’d have to do it, but, I’m kind of hoping they won’t.”
“Spidey,” Clint spoke up, then. “You kind of sound like you’re planning on living with someone else. You know you’re not allowed to do that, right? As an Avenger, you have to live here in the tower. It’s in the contract.”
Peter laughed. “I didn’t sign a contract. And besides, even if I did, I’m not emancipated yet. Any contracts I sign aren’t legally binding.”
“So you’re leaving after all,” Natasha said, her voice carefully neutral, and Peter whipped his head around to look at her, eyes wide.
“No! I— did you guys want me to stay here? I wasn’t sure, because of the whole weird situation, I was kind of thinking I’d ask Jessica, um, my friend Jessica, but if you want me to stay,” His voice was high and confused, but Peter’s heart was racing. He could feel tears prickling behind his eyes and for a moment he assumed it was grief, because that’s what it always was. But it was happiness, he realized as the feeling settled in. “If you want me to stay then of course I will.”
Peter watched as the other Avengers glanced between themselves.
“Peter,” Steve said his name as he turned back to face him. In his eyes was the kind of compassion Peter automatically equated with love. “Of course we want you to stay.”
Peter felt a clog in his throat as he smiled so wide that it hurt, nodding once, firmly. “Okay,” He agreed. “So that settles it.”
“Welcome home.”