Please ((Y/n)'s Really Really Bad Idea Part 1)

                                    

                                          
(A/n: Hey guys! I'm not dead. Sorry it took me so long to update, but I've been super busy and I've had writer's block, which sucks. I decided to break this into 2 parts so at least you'll have something published. Love you all, please don't get sick of me yet.)
                          
Pacing has become another nervous habit of mine. I seem to be collecting them like snowglobes or something lately. 
                          
I pace back and forth across my silent room, left with nothing but the sound of my feet hitting the ground with each step, and my thoughts.
                          
I had invited Peter over to tell him the plan, before I could chicken out. I know for a fact that he will absolutely hate this plan, and he'll probably think I'm crazy, but this is the best plan that we've got. Besides, it's going to work.
                          
....Right?
                          
Yes, it's going to work. It has to work.
                          
But how am I supposed to explain the plan to Peter?
                          
Oh, hey Peter. So I have this really risky and idiotic plan that will probably get me hurt or seriously mentally scarred at the very least, and I need you to be there, but you can't save me. You just have to sit back and watch me get into trouble without interfering. Okay?
                          
I groan, stopping pacing and flopping down onto my bed. That should go over well.
                          
How about: Hey Peter! I have a plan, but I can't explain the details, because if I do you're not gonna let me do it, because it will probably get me killed or worse. So I'll just not explain and hope everything works out!
                          
Yeah...that one isn't any better.
                          
Hey, Peter, so I have this really risky idea that has less than a 50% chance of actually working, and it will probably leave me mentally scarred or possibly worse in the process, but it's the best idea I've got so we gotta do it. Oh, and you aren't allowed to swoop in and rescue me. You just have to sit there and let it happen. Okay, let's go!

                          
I blow a strand of hair out of my face and I move into a more comfortable position as I go over different ways to tell him in my head. Each one coming out worse and worse.
                          
Maybe I should just not tell him at all?
                          
I mean, there's no way he'll let me do it, so...maybe I should just go alone?
                          
I flip on to my side, scrolling through my phone.
                          
Oh yeah, (Y/n). Go in alone. Sounds like the perfect way to get yourself into huge trouble and/or possibly killed! (*Note the sarcasm*)
                          
"(Y/n)! Your boyfriend is here!" Clint yells from the hall.
                          
I wait a few seconds, stalling as long as I can, before sighing and forcing myself to get up and walk out the door. I'm too tired and too busy trying to figure out what I'm going to say that I don't even bother correcting him.
                          
It's a good plan. I have everything figured out. Down to the last detail.
                          
But then again, things are more likely to go wrong than right, and there's still so much risk.
                          
But it's the only plan we've got.
                          
"Wait, are you guys official?" Sam asks as I pass him. He sits up straighter on the couch. "I TOLD YOU ALL THAT THEY WOULD GET TOGETHER BEFORE NEW YEARS! EVERYONE HERE OWES ME TWENTY BUCKS!"
                          
I grab the nearest pillow from the couch and I whip it at his head. "We're not dating!"
                          
He rolls his eyes impatiently. "Well hurry it up then! I've got twenty bucks on the line here, kid! And there's no way any of us will live it down if Tony ends up being right."