Chapter 4: Training Fall

                                    

                                          


                          
4.
                          
"Oh my god, this is amazing!" Peter gushed as soon as he was inside the training room. "This is amazing. This is probably the best moment of my life - including that time Flash got a physics question wrong at a decathlon meet and MJ-"
                          
"Wow, kid." Tony chided. "This is just a bit of a trial run, okay? See how everyone gets on."
                          
"Yeah!" Peter insisted, trying his best to seem professional despite his excitement making him want to literally bounce off the walls. "Definitely. All just chilling. Chilling like a-"
                          
"For my sake please don't finish that sentence," Tony shook his head. "We're just ten mature adults, coming together to see how we get along as a team now. Sort out the dynamics."
                          
Peter nodded manically and took another look around. God. This was so cool. The Avengers training room. The Avenger's training room! And he was actually going to train with them. Oh god. This was the best thing to even happen to him. Hands down. No questions. Not even any close comparisons –
                          
"Well, 9 and a half mature adults." Tony muttered, breaking off Peter's racing thoughts.
                          
"Hey." Peter argued, turning to shoot a light glare at Tony who was still waiting by the training room doors, "I'm at least two thirds."
                          
"You can be two-thirds if you stop gaping at everything and come and wait over here like a normal person." Tony waved him over. Peter followed, still craning his neck to take in every inch of the room.
                          
"Okay, here's the deal," Tony began. "We're going to train for a few hours, make some small talk and try not to kill each other. Think you can handle that?"
                          
Peter nodded again.
                          
"Good." Tony sighed. "That makes one of us."
                          
Before Peter could reply the double doors opened and Rhodey stepped inside, his bionic leg-crutches clunking loudly with each step inside the large room. He was dressed in a loose t-shirt and cargo pants. Ready to work.
                          
"Oh, thank-Christ you're here." Tony panted. He took a steadying breath that Peter hadn't realized he needed. Wow. He was really nervous about this. Should Peter be nervous about this?
                          
"Chill, I'm here." Rhodey said, moving over to Tony. "Everyone's arriving."
                          
Tony nodded and began clicking his fingers nervously. Glancing about the room – or generally anywhere other than Rhodey and Peter. Peter moved forward, but Rhodey cut him off.
                          
He moved towards Peter and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
                          
"How you doing, kid?"
                          
Peter had met Rhodey a couple of times now. They'd met when he'd walked in on Tony trying to remove Peter's suit after some goon, breaking into a hardware store, had sprayed him in super adhesive. Not Peter's finest moment.
                          
Rhodey, though, had been oddly cool with the whole thing.
                          
He'd barely even raised an eyebrow before asking where Tony kept his baking spray. When Tony had fallen into a panicked tangent about why he was not allowed to keep baking supplies in the penthouse – curtsy of Pepper and several failed attempts – Rhodey had simply held up a silencing hand, disappeared for several minutes and returned with a jumbo jar of peanut butter.
                          
Needless to say, Peter was free in no time. But incredibly sticky.
                          
Yeah. Really not his finest night.
                          
He'd run into Rhodey several more times since then, mainly in the Avengers Compound where Tony was still improving his bionic legs. They often sat around and ate pizza while Tony worked. It was nice. The man was just, so, constant. Nothing ever rattled him.