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Peter thinks he’s done pretty good at avoiding intentional trouble ever since he became a regular at the Stark Tower and the Avengers Compound, courtesy of just about everyone finding out that Spiderman was actually a Spiderteen (“More like Spiderbaby,” Dr. Banner muttered faintly) and not really all that part of the -man-type of supers.
It’s been a few months give or take since he sort-of settled into a routine with all that’s happened when he saved Miss Potts—Pepper from an attempted assassination, and the CEO of Stark Industries already pegged his…less than legal age just barely three minutes into talking with him. And okay, maybe MJ is really that all-knowing or something with how she’s convinced that his secret of the spidey kind will be discovered by CEO Potts first before any of the spies could ever.
Though, talking about his secret identity and current vigilantism activities with Aunt May was easier though (at everyone’s unanimous agreement and simultaneously gentle cajoling), than compared to the idea of Peter attending mandatory therapy sessions as a condition to continue being Spiderman. Especially after Mr. Stark recalled his quip back at him about responsibility with a narrow-eyed gaze, not that he was looking at him when Aunt May’s eyes widened in realization.
“Oh, Peter,” she had said, in that same voice as when she emerged from that room in the Emergency hospital and saw him sitting miserably on one of the plastic chairs with dried blood covering his hands and clothes and the taste of vomit at the back of his throat. And just like what Peter did, his lip trembled dangerously before he finally broke down in a fit of overwhelmed tears.
Thankfully, only Mr. Stark and Miss Pot—Pepper were there to see him cry it out.
“You’ve got a big heart, honey,” Aunt May murmured as she soothed his hiccupping gasps, “but you don’t need to beat yourself up for not being able to do more just because you can.”
“Take it from someone that did the same thing once,” Mr. Stark cheerily quips, only to yelp when Pepper cuffed his head. “Ow! I was being encouraging!”
“And he’s having a growingly reasonable timetable and better health to show for his efforts,” Pepper added with a smile, ignoring Mr. Stark’s bluster as she gives him a kind smile. “Tony’s oversimplified what happened because he’s incredibly stubborn but just because he doesn’t know how to ask for help doesn’t mean that we didn’t hear the request for it, anyway.”
“B-But I’m…” Peter makes one last defense, and Mr. Stark’s affronted face twisted into something awkwardly soft.
“Sometimes, even heroes need a little help too.”
And while he doesn’t think he could ever live without the ache of having the means to help while Uncle Ben needed it the most, he wasn’t about to deny the usefulness of having an approved therapist help him sort out with his grief…and then his other sensory issues too. Well, it was essentially part of the deal if he still wanted to be Spiderman and he still did outside the initial guilt-fueled patrols he did a few weeks after the funeral but still.
He is dedicated to helping the little guy even after everything that happened still, so he’s required to show up to the Avengers Compound for weekly training and then show up to the Stark Tower so that Mr. Stark can squirrel him away to his laboratory with Bruce to also keep up the definitely not-ruse of being “Tony Stark’s intern.”
Something about him admitting that he’s on a scholarship and in a decathlon team and an ex-member of the robotics club in Midtown High gained a particular glint in everyone’s eyes before simultaneously looking at a curious Mr. Stark and then back at him.
“Huh,” Mr. War Machine Iron Patriot—Mr. Rhodey said. His tone was very knowing and amused as he glanced at Stark. “Sounds like a familiar string of words, isn’t it, Spiderkid?”
Peter squeaks, flushing as the implication of the words both flew over Mr. Stark’s head and hits him square on like a hard punch in the chest because…! Mr. War Machine Iron Patriot just compared him to Dr. Ironman Tony Stark!?!?
Aunt May didn’t even try to hide her amusedly proud smile. “Petey-pie’s a real smart boy.”
So yeah, he’s now “Dr. Anthony Edward “I am Ironman” Stark’s intern” which was initially created to give him a plausible reason to be over at the Avengers Compound for training which… then somehow evolved into him being a regular face at the Stark Tower and trying not to gush whenever he drops by the Mr. Stark’s workshop. Which he had. Been in. About sixty-seven times and counting.
Peter might have begged Mr. Stark to let Ned sign a contract so that he can have someone to gush—(“It’s fanboying.” “No, it’s not!” “Definitely fanboying, kiddo. Look! Personally extensive handshake and everything that I’m almost jealous that I didn’t get to know about.”)— about his life now and also some of the side projects that he’s doing in his “internship” and so far, everything seems to be going well.
Or well, as well as it can be when he asked Ms. Romanoff where the snacks cupboard was and then to Mr. Vision what he can help with when he has some free time. Also, when JARVIS helpfully pointed out that he has some spare clothes in another room after May called him to apologize for having to participate in an emergency surgery for the night and had him asked if he could spend the night at the compound instead. To which, Mr. Stark was quick to be happy about before Pepper withered him into agreeing that Peter will not be staying any longer past twelve and…! Mr. Stark actually followed through with it even when he was obviously sulking while cleaning up his workshop for the night.
Peter may have had to sit down in his very soft and fresh bed in freaked out silence for a while after realizing this very non-intern-like relationship with Mr. Stark and the Avengers.
“Sir.” JARVIS’ sudden voice cuts through their perusal of the deconstructed particle accelerator in the middle of Mr. Stark’s workshop, Peter perking up when his Spidey senses registered a disturbance at the rooftop a second later. “Mr. Odinson and Mr. Loki have arrived at the rooftop of the Avengers Compound.”
“Oh my god.” Peter nearly brained himself with a wrench that he was holding, a contrast to Mr. Stark’s pained hiss when hw smacked his hand from the motor at his surprised flinch.
“Gah! A warning would be nice, J!”
“Apologies, sir.” The tone in JARVIS’ voice was politely unapologetic. “I’ll be sure to accompany any updates with a ping sound before speaking next time.”
“Cheeky bastard.” Tony blows at his reddening pinky, before gesturing at a wide-eyed Peter with raised eyebrows. “I’m hurt that I didn’t get that kind of reception when we first met.”
“I like his biceps.” Peter blurted, before his eyes widened and he immediately put a hand on his mouth. Tony eyebrows seemed to raise even higher at that, eyes turning considering.
The resulting brief silence was very damning.
“Queer awakening by aliens,” Tony finally announced as if Peter wasn’t holding his entire breath, but there was no disdain in his voice as his expression grew wicked. “Very on-brand of you, Underoos.”
“Mr. Stark!” Peter definitely did not whine as he relaxed, but he only earned a laugh from his idol-turned-mentor.
“Pointbreak and Jane are like the royal couple but for Gen Z. I don’t think you’re alone in being queer,” Mr. Stark snorts, making a few gestures to dissipate the few floating holograms before gesturing him to follow. “C’mon, we’d better greet Bolt and Reindeer Games and see what they’ve been up to.”
“Dr. Banner is currently meeting them at the rooftop,” JARVIS updates, the lights in the workshop automatically flickering off as the doors shut behind Peter’s back. There’s a brief pause, before the AI continues. “Mr. Loki has disappeared.”
“Is that good thing or a bag-of-cats type of thing?” Mr. Stark muttered, looking briefly concerned as they shuffled quickly into the nearest elevator.
“From what I have interpreted from the cameras, Mr. Loki looked no less the same as he is every time he accompanies his brother for a consultation.” There’s another brief, considering pause, before JARVIS adds. “He has also asked me to pass on a message to you, sir, that you should think yourself to be too arrogant in trying to make a Midgardian device capable of stopping sorcerers from performing magic.”
“So the usual arrogant full-tilt diva aura, got it.” Mr. Stark makes a face. “And also excuse me? Who was it that made the entire walls of the Laboratory into huge bubbles just a few weeks ago because I successfully made it harder for him to manipulate his gizmo?”
“You had fun popping those bubbles, Mr. Stark,” Peter kindly reminds him, giggling when he dodged a thwack on his head.
Peter hadn’t actually met any of the Asgardians yet, the closest that he had was the news from the Invasion of New York and the stories that Mr. Stark would tell because even with his frequent comings and goings to the Compound, the two gods would barely stay long enough before going off-world again.
The elevators stopped with a cheery ding, and with anticipation thrumming in his bones as his nose picks up a unique scent of ozone and something so foreign.
“Friend Stark!” Thor grins, and yeah, Mr. Stark was right in how he looks like a sun incarnate and the puppy energy. And his biceps would make Coach Wilson regret being a gym teacher. “Oh, and you have brought a child with you! I was not aware that you are now in the joys of fatherhood!”
Peter’s moment of awe was cut off as he made a high-pitched incoherent noise reminiscent of a whale.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Stark’s strangled voice told him that he wasn’t faring any better from the words that just left Thor’s mouth.
The look of honest confusion on the god’s face was only highlighted by the cough that leaves Dr. Banner’s mouth as he smirks at them. “But why else would the two of you look and read so similarly? I do admit that I am...slower to grasp than Loki is, but I do believe that you two are related?”
As far as first impressions and first meetings with the Avengers go, this wasn’t the worst that Peter had been in.
But to be mistaken for Mr. Stark’s son? (That should only stay so deep in his subconscious that it should never see the light of the day ever again EVER.)
Following Mr. Stark’s uncharacteristically stammered interaction with Thor where they had eventually established the short Cliffs Notes version of Peter’s circumstances with the Avengers (who is not in any way shape or form biologically related to Mr. Stark), Thor promptly launched into another retelling of his journey where he’s now apparently able to drop by a little longer in Midgard and take up his duties as an Avenger at a more frequent capacity until he is to be recalled back.
“My bro—Loki and I, the reason why we only spent so few hours in Midgard before going off to other Realms, is to attempt to mobilize the rest of the Nine Realms into preparing for the return of the Mad Titan in the folds of Yggdrasill.” Thor’s armor barely makes any sound as they squeeze into the elevators together, his expression turning something weary but hopeful. “It was only recently that we were able to finish our trip after securing Alfheim’s agreement to participate in the war preparations. Loki has left me to wrangle up the final details on the interplanetary alliance against the Mad Titan again, to which, you will now be a part of soon.”
“That would be really nice and all if I didn’t have any more updates other than all the world leaders are still ‘in deep discussion’ over everything,” Mr. Stark muttered, making Thor frown.
“I admit that I have poor experience in diplomacy and negotiations but delays in planning and preparation might cost us dearly, friend Tony.”
“I’m no world leader even if I do have the world eating out from the palm of my hands,” Mr. Stark retorts, making Dr. Banner sigh.
“Well, the international scientific community are all in agreement with creating a unified global means protection, if it means any,” he offers with a smile. “A force field that could cover the entire Earth—er, Midgard are in the works, along with exploring a lot more in medicine and protection.”
And normally, Peter would have felt the burgeoning curiosity the instant that something completely new came up, but the still dissatisfied expression in Thor’s face quelled it.
“It is…” the Asgardian looked visibly torn, and when he spoke, nobody could miss the visibly delicate and non-judgmental tone (that had apparently gone a long way according to Loki from what Mr. Stark told him, but with much more bitter and full-tilt diva delivery that reeked of family issues from a mile away) in his voice. “Admirable that you have the forethought to fortify your defenses in the meantime and I admire the resilience of Midgardians in making the best out of every situation. However, delegation is very crucial if we are to get out of this interplanetary war.”
From the brief expressions of surprise from both men before grim realization dawned on their faces, Peter had an inkling that this is the first time that Thor had stated something that made them reevaluate their earlier perception.
“Don’t we all know it,” Mr. Stark huffs, expression falling dark.
The aura remained somber for a moment before Mr. Stark visibly made a wave as if to dismiss the heavy atmosphere with his hand.
“Well, world-ending crises aside, we should celebrate your return!” his cheer so forced that it was almost fake, but tactfully, no one commented on it.
Thor grins, the earlier grimness of his words shadowing his expression easing into something lighter.
“Aye! I have brought Aesir liquor for you friends to taste!”
In hindsight, it should have told Peter that everything was going to go absolutely wrong. Parker luck and all that, yeah. Everything was going a little too well, even with the added pressure of an impending war against aliens and all that.
But at this moment, Peter would like to say that he had never ever meant for it to happen. Ever!
After a few rounds of drinks (apple juice for Peter) and dinner with the rest of the Avengers, they had migrated to the common room to continue jumping from topics ranging from Thor’s expeditions out of Asgard to updating the god on the current way of things at Earth—er, Midgard. And one thing led another, mostly since Thor was eager to talk about his past exploits and expeditions throughout the Nine Realms after everyone had finished updating him of current things here on Earth, where Peter was frantically texting JARVIS if it was okay to save copies of the Avengers trying out Mjölnir please it’s for the good of blackm—erm, memories, Mr. JARVIS!
He had to hide his face into drinking another cup of apple juice when Mr. Stark wasn’t able to lift the Hammer even with his suit and Mr. Rhodey coming up to help him, looking so put out and irritated as he claimed that the entire thing was rigged to a very smug-looking Thor.
“It was never my doing but hers,” Thor grins, dopey and soft at his weapon. “She’s the one that chooses the wielder, not I.”
The rest of the Avengers followed suit in futility, and Peter just managed to catch Thor’s deer-in-headlights look when Mr. Rogers seemed to make Mjölnir budge a little before he too failed. JARVIS tells him that he could not, in good faith distribute footage of what’s going in the Compound with Mr. Stark’s permission or in the case of emergencies…but he could do nothing if someone was able to bypass the commands that had been kept in place for this protocol to be executed and JARVIS really is the best no matter what Mr. Stark liked gripe about him.
“There has to be some specifically keyed-in response to make it move for Thor!” Mr. Stark insisted, tipping up another shot of whiskey before frowning. “Fingerprint access? No, that’s too simple and very non-alien thing. DNA-specific?”
Thor laughs good-naturedly. “Friend Stark, Mjölnir is imbued by ancient magicks that predate even my birth, and I was the only known wielder that had been accepted to use Mjölnir as I see fit.”
“Sounds pretentious,” Mr. Stark sniffs, before perking up with a wicked grin. “Wait a second.”
The look in Mr. Stark’s eyes as his head snapped towards his direction made his Spidey sense tingle briefly, as he curls deeper on his armchair when the rest also started looking at him.
“I’m going to die if I get to touch Mr. Thor’s hammer,” he warned, if a little bleakly amidst the conspiring grins.
Peter’s already died earlier in the afternoon when Thor had first appeared in the rooftop.
“Come on, it’s just a little experiment,” Mr. Stark cajoled, waving off Thor’s concerned look at Peter’s words before Ms. Danvers whispered something to his ear that cleared up his expression. “Kid, I know you’re already making JARVIS give you a copy of our unworthiness of Lightning McQueen’s shiny hammer so might as well also try it yourself! It’ll be so easy that it’s disappointing. Not even a variable out of place.”
“U-Uh.” His voice cracked and earned a couple of chuckles and coos (from Mr. Barton and Mr. Stark) as he quickly cleared his throat. “Is it really really okay, Mr. Stark?”
“Go on, Underoos,” Mr. Stark waved at him, smiling eagerly and leaning forward from the couch as Peter glances at the innocuous alien artifact that Thor had cheekily placed earlier and then to the varying expectant expressions of the other Avengers and Thor. “It’ll be so quick it’s going to be so disappointing.”
“Just like how Friend Stark and the rest had said and done,” Thor beams. “I do assure you that your enhancements, much like the Captain of the America, does not matter as soon as you interact with Mjölnir.”
“Okay,” he bleats, because he’s a teenager like that and his voice cracks at the most inopportune moments ever and Peter’s never really going to live it down that he’s going to trade his soul to JARVIS to make sure that Mr. Stark would never have any access to this footage until he dies. Peter clears his throat amidst the chorus of amused chuckles as everyone looks at him. “Uh, here I go?”
So, he did. Touch it.
Wrapped his right hand around the leather-covered handle…
…And then lifted it up.
Okay well, he may have almost tripped on his own two feet and nearly destroyed the Avengers' communal TV and coffee table in the process with a yell but the point, is that he had managed to pick it up.
Actually, Peter could have sworn that he felt something vaguely electric to travel in his right arm as he went to pick up the handle, kind of like reversed pins and needles, him jerking in surprise as he looks at the deceptively small and ungainly-looking hammer. Flexing his muscles both to lose the slightly tingling feeling and in preparation for what he knows to be an immovable except-if-your-name-is-Thor Odinson object, Peter put his entire weight into moving Mjölnir except.
He miscalculated. Because he was…?
So, he did some sort of pinwheel (while still holding onto Mjölnir) to balance himself with a yelp, just barely managing to not clip the big flatscreen TV and the poor coffee table before he looks at the now wide-eyed Avengers staring at him.
Peter is worthy, holy shit holy shit holy shit.
Thor, in particular, had an impressively pallid expression. His mouth was also hanging open.
Peter has so many questions because Mjölnir really is so light which should be impossible given its size and the sheer destructive force that he watched it wreak when battling with the Chitauri, but he’s also a little very much a lot freaked out as he looked at Mjölnir resting comfortably within his grasp.
This shouldn’t be possible.
Peter Benjamin Parker is worthy?
It would be easy and disappointing, they said.
In what part was this disappointing?!?!?
“I know I’ve drunk a lot tonight, but I am not the only that saw,” Mr. Stark was the first to regain his composure, setting his whiskey glass a little shakily by his feet as he stares wide-eyed between Peter and Mjölnir that he’s holding in his dominant right hand. “This? Whatever even is this?”
“Sir, Peter is indeed holding Mjölnir, known as the famed weapon of Sir Thor,” JARVIS’ voice reverberates from the ceiling, tone calm and if not, more than amused. “I will be able to provide you twenty-four different camera perspectives that you may view in order to verify that Peter is, to borrow Sir Thor’s words from earlier, worthy of the Power of Thor.”
“Worthy of the Power of Thor,” Thor dumbly parrots, any trace of earlier joviality and inebriation gone as he seemed to go even paler than possible. “Right.”
And without saying anything further, the Asgardian stood up and quickly strode towards the opened glass doors with a yell of, “Heimdall!” and then he was. Gone.
In a shower of evilly bright rainbow sparkles at like eleven in the evening, leaving behind a burnt patch of some runes tattooed on the front lawn.
Oh, and before anyone could forget, he also left behind Mjölnir.
Peter looked at his hand and. Yeah, the hammer was still in his grasp.
“Okay what the fuck just happened?” Mr. Rhodey finally spoke, voice no less incredulous than Mr. Stark’s in the wake of Thor’s abrupt departure. “Actually, did Thor just leave behind his very ultra-precious weapon in Pete’s hands without offering any explanation? Does the mythology worthy spiel even count?”
“If I may offer a tentative insight to the current situation at hand, Mr. Rhodes,” JARVIS chose to answer, voice sounding the closest thing to being unflappably calm. “It is to my belief brought by combing through all the available data I have concerning Mr. Odinson and Mr. Loki at the moment is that, going by the level of dedication and faith that they have to their craft and culture and also in their abilities, I wager that the condition of worth does not seem to be misled given also by Mr. Odinson’s reaction just a while earlier followed by that of his unusual departure.”
“So Underoos is what? Inheriting some lightning powers now like our resident Asgardian hero now?”
“Perhaps,” JARVIS agrees, before his voice drops a little in pitch. “It is hard to tell until we conduct t—”
“I don’t feel any staticky electricity,” Peter blurts, before trying to cover his mouth and then having to dodge an untimely black eye via Mjölnir because that would be just lame. “Or any different than before?”
“But you might,” Mr. Stark adds on, now looking panicked. “Okay, we need to go to the Medbay ASAP, JARV be a dear and call Dr. Cho or Dr. Wu? I will literally get skinned alive by Aunt Hottie if you contracted some alien virus on my watch.”
“I have already taken the liberty of notifying Dr. Cho.”
“I think we should be really focusing on the fact that I can actually hold Mjölnir a little more,” Peter mutters faintly, lightly moving the arm and still feeling very much freaked out at how easy it was to move it around. “Uh, I really don’t know how I did it I swea—"
“If there’s anyone that’s worthy of that pseudo-masculine strip of honor weapon, it would be you,” Mr. Stark waves his concerns off, gesturing for him to follow as he stood up to make a beeline straight towards the elevator. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you checked out and carry the Hammer of Extreme Preferential Treatment with you so that no one’s going to get bruised toes or anything. Brucie? You coming with?”
“You do deserve the worthy title, if anything,” Ms. Captain Marvel Danvers shrugged as she leaned back against the couch. “The Aesir are uptight and kind of boring but they really take honor seriously so if you’re worthy, might as well milk it up there in space because even if it sounds so pretentious, Mjölnir has some kind of big statement in there.”
“Big statement,” Peter faintly repeats, staring at the innocuous hammer in his hand.
Oh, if only they knew how much of an understatement that one is.
“Peter, I have informed Sir and the rest of the Avengers about the appearance of AllMother Queen Frigga of Asgard, Prince Thor Odinson, and Prince Loki at the communal kitchen.”
He's pretty sure he's staring.
Or goggling...gaping unattractively, maybe.
Gosh, his armpits are going crazy right now and he really, really wants to puke and he feels so, so underdressed.
“Young Peter!” Not even Thor’s exuberance was enough to snap him out of his shocked stupor.
It’s been like, two weeks following Thor’s abrupt departure via tattooing the front lawn of the Compound and leaving behind Mjölnir in Peter’s care (who eventually put it in his kind-of room space at the Compound…after a freak out about the potential ramifications of putting the hammer in the biggest shoebox that he could ever find instead of just leaving it lying around) without so much as a by your leave. Not even Loki dropped by—it was very vocally pointed out by a put-upon Mr. Stark who is definitely not sulking about it—which was unusual according to JARVIS, since Loki would never pass up the opportunity to drop by at the Compound be as subtly annoying as possible.
And now, he’s here. Like here here and with a few extra visitors that apparently didn’t use the Bifrost flashy Uber service, since they appeared in the middle of the communal kitchen with the Tesseract in Loki’s hands.
Where Peter was working on his problem set. Alone.
And from kinda failing on getting it done to really full-on stop in smashing buttons at his calculator as his spidey sense tingled in warning, Peter’s sure that he’s not going to be able to work on it today.
"You're—You're uh," he stutters, and he could feel just how wide his eyes are as he stares. His sweaty palms have sweat. And his heartbeat is doing a crazy tango with his stomach that it's a miracle he's still on his feet. Any related thoughts to his calculus homework strewn all over the kitchen counter were all but thrown into the void in favor of flustered surprise and budding anxiousness once the smokey blue tinge dissipated from the Tower's recent godly visitors at the communal kitchen. "U-Um."
He definitely did not squeak, no sir, as he looks at the alien royalty before him.
Loki is looking at him like he's the dirt beneath his shoes, all decked out in his infamous green and gold leather get-up except for the glaring lack of his horned helmet resting atop his head.
Actually, his voice is really pitched throughout all of this, yeah. Maybe he feels like he deserves Loki’s look especially for making a poor first impression to the most beautiful and warmth incarnate of a woman that he had ever seen.
"Mother, this is Young Peter Parker Richardson, also known as the Man of Spiders, apprentice to Friend Tony, also known as the Man of Iron," Thor introduces with a flourish, bright-eyed and awash with earnestness that contrasted greatly with Loki's churlish expression as he stands on a parade rest besides the woman who is apparently Miss Lady Goddess Frigga Queen of Asgard—
Loki scoffs, green eyes giving him a brisk look to give another scoff again as if to find him wanting. Peter would have been more wary of him despite his on-going reformation as an ex-invader apparently puppet to a mad immortal that every non-Earthlings hate due to his very questionable morals and very biased knowledge on how economies work if he wasn't standing right beside a woman that makes him feel like a child, and in a strangely, good way, though.
Miss Lady Goddess Queen Frigga of Asgard is so beautiful and radiating sheer warmth that flowers could have sprouted out of the surface of Mr. Stark's immaculate marble floor when she speaks. "Well met, dear one. I do admit I have expected to still wait for a couple of centuries to welcome a sweet one from you, Thor—well, bless the Norns to have given me such a wonderful surprise."
Peter blinks, a little dazed as the soft, lilting voice before the words registered in his mind.
What.
Loki’s lips seemed to twitch in a facsimile of a smirk.
Thor, honest to god(s?), actually blushed. "Mother! Midgardians operate differently than we do, and I have explain—"
"I doubt that any of his knowledge and intellect has the capacity to come from the fruit of your loins, Odinson," Loki drawls, and Peter was starting to think that maybe Mr. Stark was right in wanting to find out just how Loki was able to insert as much disdain and spite and sheer scorn in a single, pointed word. Along with how Thor looked certainly nonplussed like what Peter would give to have these sorts of skills, to be honest. "He's Stark's protege, and his...enhancements have allowed for him to join the Avengers on a consultation basis during their miserable conquests to defeat evil and defend their territories from pointless reasons like animals are wont to do."
“I actually help keep the neighborhood safe,” Peter couldn’t help but retort, unable to keep himself from bristling at the tail end of the comment, “and it’s actually harder if you don’t want it to escalate nor cause some property damages, Mr. Loki.”
"Aye, he is a very skilled Midgardian child with a heart of gold!”
He would really like to argue that helping cats to get down from trees and helping stubborn elderly ladies in searching through their purse for a non-existent coupon has their own special brand of evil, really. His interpersonal skills had improved in leaps and bounds! Also, maintaining nice neighborhood communities is actually really hard especially if you the last thing you ever want is to resort to physical fights.
Which happened. Like, 90% of the time.
And yes, Peter really did try to negotiate as peacefully as he can!
"A noble pursuit and defending one's home are always a great honor and pride to have," Frigga compliments, and his imaginary arguments to Loki vanished because Peter could feel the moment that his entire face and ears started to burn at the sheer sincerity of her tone. “How old are you, little one?”
“Fifteen, ma’am.” He’s a little proud that he didn’t stutter, straightening his posture a little as Miss Frigga makes a delighted noise.
“Oh, this is absolutely wonderful,” she beams, and yeah, Peter could see a tint of Thor in the shape of her smile and the brightness in her eyes. “And please, call me Frigga. It is also to my understanding that Lord Stark is your father?”
“He is not,” Thor chose to interrupt, a little calmer than he had been as he seemed to give a certain look that made Miss Frigga raise an eyebrow and for Loki to look a little more than thoughtful. “Rather, he is Friend Tony’s only apprentice, and they create works of marvel in his workshop. He also spends time at the Compound frequently aside from doing his apprentice work, and to also give us help during an assignment.
“Apprentices of masters often end up in adoption,” Miss Frigga points out, but not unkindly. Fortunately, she didn’t make a comment at his flushed cheeks. “However, this makes it a little easier to arrange matters, since it is imperative that Young Peter’s honor be not stained with unbecoming rumors of the sort.”
“I’m afraid I do not follow, Your Highness.” JARVIS chose that moment to pipe up, sounding curious and just slightly suspicious that made Miss Frigga smile. “The available Avengers and Sir are on their way; however, I must ask about what you mean by Peter’s honor since Sir is also interested in his continued wellbeing.”
“You are…JARVIS, correct? The masterful spirit that had impressed both my sons?” She takes a cursory look around, politely curious.
“I did not expect to have successfully fooled perceived gods. However, knowing that I do is appreciated,” the sweet bite in his accented voice made Peter hide a smile even as Loki rolled his eyes, the lights flickering a little before JARVIS spoke again. “And yes, I am JARVIS, which is short for Just A Rather Very Intelligent System. It is one of my primary directives to ensure Peter’s safety.”
“You are a marvel of a creation,” Miss Frigga praised, looking and sounding impressed. “I have heard stories about you and your creator from either of my sons, especially in your effort in helping Loki regain his autonomy. However, this is beyond than what I had expected.”
Loki looked like he had something to say about that, only to get elbowed by Thor.
“I am pleased to have exceeded your expectations.” JARVIS’ voice is polite but with the barest tinges of smug satisfaction, and Peter bets that if JARVIS wasn’t a little more than wary about their sudden visitors, he would have been much more talkative. FRIDAY was always a little more outgoing than JARVIS, but Peter could understand (if so he could freak about the primary directive regarding his wellbeing having been coded into JARVIS’ protocols). “However, I must ask again for elaboration on what you are speaking about earlier.”
“Yes, of course. I do apologize for being waylaid by my curiosity since it has been a long time since I have visited Midgard.” Miss Frigga blinks, expression twisting into one of faint disapproval as she looks at Thor. “Rather, the crux of our visit here pertains to an extent, about Asgard at an official capacity. However, the bulk of the visit is due to Mjölnir.”
Peter blinks.
No way. “Am I going to have awesome lightning powers now?”
“No,” this time, it was Loki who answered, giving him a thorough appraisal with a critical eye, and shaking his head. “You are still an enhanced Midgardian, Spiderling.”
“Oh.” The way Loki raised an eyebrow told him that he hadn’t been able to keep his disappointment out of his voice as he had thought. “So er, what’s the problem then?”
“There is no problem, young Peter,” Thor coughs, looking vaguely contrite. “Rather, it is a simple matter that you had been accepted by Mjölnir.”
“Yeah, I did,” Peter cautiously agreed. Everyone and their mothers could see the sheer attachment that Thor has with his hammer, which makes him leaving it all behind so suspicious and unusual…even if Sorcerer Supreme Doctor Strange already gave the all-clear after taking one look at the hammer. “It’s uh, in my room right now, if you want me to get it for you…?”
Instantly, Thor looks achingly hopeful. “So you will not wield her as your weapon of choice?”
Bemused, Peter shakes his head. “It’s your weapon though, and it’s going to make it hard for me to use my spider webs if I carry it with me all the time.”
“Is that what you truly wish?”
“Norns, you are pathetic,” Loki huffs, aggressively cutting in between them with a pinched look. “Spiderling, are you sure that you do not prefer to use Mjölnir as a regular weapon?”
Even if Peter could maybe use Mjölnir as a weapon, the amount of force that he could inflict while using the hammer makes him a little too uncomfortable. “No, not really.”
“You are serious.” Alarmingly enough, there are tears pooling in the corner of Thor’s eyes. But before Peter could even point it out, Loki took that opportunity to clear his throat.
“Right, less blubbering and more of dealing with finishing the agenda of our lovely family visit today,” Loki snaps his fingers impatiently. “Since I assume that Thor had taken off as soon as you are able to wield Mjölnir, then I surmise that you know little beyond the, “whoever wields the Hammer shall be worthy of the power of Thor,” lines—which is worth nil, in my humble opinion. So! To keep this short and painful since I have places to be—” “Sir is greatly displeased that you have not been able to keep your bargain sir Loki, so he has taken the liberty to award himself a point due to your absence.” “—some mortals to eviscerate, and you, Peter Benjamin Parker, Spiderman whatever, are recognized and accepted by me, Loki, Representative of Chaos and Mischief, Second Prince of Asgard.”
And with that, Loki vanished with a cheeky wave.
There’s a beat of silence, before JARVIS informs them with the tone of someone that isn’t getting paid enough to do his job properly. “I believe sir Loki and Sir are now engaging in a heated argument at Sir’s workshop.”
“Argument,” Peter dubiously echoes, but he’s going to steer away from that cocktail mess involving Mr. Stark and Loki for as long as he can possibly do because there are other things to worry about which is mainly— “Also, why is Mr. Loki accepting me and talking about Norse mythology about the hammer of Thor?”
“You are accepted as part of the Royal Family of Asgard as its third and youngest prince,” Thor bluntly explained to Frigga’s gentle, “You are now a Prince of Asgard, little one.”
Peter blinks as his mind bluescreened for a moment at the words. “What.”
Frigga smiles, benevolent and curious and fond and assessing, somehow finding something in him that made her smile turn softer and just a touch fiercer. “Third in line to the throne. Well met, Peter Benjamin Parker Richardson, and may the Norns be merciful, we shall have you make a home in Asgard soon enough.”
What.
“What.” Did Peter really hear that…right…?!
“Mjölnir’s acceptance to being wielded by you automatically gives you a place in the Royal Family Tree,” Miss Frigga serenely elaborated, as if she was unfazed by the proverbial bomb that just detonated Peter’s mind. “The weapon is steeped in ancient magicks, tied so intricately into the magic of Asgard that it is the equivalent of Asgard’s acceptance to your rule should one be able to wield Mjölnir. Lesser men have died upon touching the noble weapon, and to date, you and Thor are the only ones to extensively use Mjölnir as you saw fit. Hence, given that Thor is the current crown prince, first in line to the throne, then Loki as the second prince, second in line to the throne…you are now the third prince as willingly endorsed by Mjölnir and now, recognized by the Royal Family acting upon the orders of the King of Asgard.”
Third in line…to the throne?!
“Excuse me?”
Peter may have let out a gurgling, dying—wheezing sound in response.
Oh, oh Ned is going to flip his shit.