Wanda is the first. Well, the second, really, if you count Cassie, which you should, because Cassie is amazing and awesome and fantastic. But, technically speaking, Wanda is the first.
It starts with a knock on the door.
Or maybe it starts with Sokovia.
Or maybe the hospital?
Scott can't tell. It's a long story, apparently. It's a lot of, well, everything, he supposes? He can't tell. He'll leave the big complex-stuff to the Avengers while he stays here being... an honorary Avenger? Is that still technically an Avenger.
He's thinking way too hard about this.
Anyways. Wanda.
He's been recruited (re: he's a freaking honorary Avenger) by Steve (re: Captain America. CAPTAIN AMERICA. HOPE. THIS IS SO COOL) to be a backup sort of, for the Avengers, and Wanda is part of this backup. The others are there, too, of course, Sam and Vision and Rhodey but Wanda is the most obvious, because she's so obviously young even in her red jacket and knee-length boots.
She's tall. A little lanky. Definitely a teenager, or barely an adult. She has no business being there, but sure. Why not. Scott knows about resolve, and she's got a lot of it, so instead of saying why are you here like he wants, he plops down next to her on the couch and nudges her side.
"Nice boots," Great opening, Scott. Not weird at all. "Where'd you get them?"
Wanda gives him a once over, smile small and hesitant as she says, "I don't think that they seem your style."
"Aw, really?" Scott gives himself a once-over, his worn down clothes and his sneakers with holes at the toes, "I think that I could be quite fashionable."
Her smile grows a bit more sure and she says, "I sure that you could be."
He gasps dramatically. She giggles a bit. It's wonderful. So that's how they meet. How does this end? (Or, well, start, he supposes, in this instance, but he's trying to explain here and-okay, yup, right, moving on.)
It starts with a knock on the door. Starts with Wanda, eyes red rimmed as she shifts her hand on the backpack hanging off her shoulders as she asks, "Can I stay here for two nights?"
Scott stares. Blinks a few times. Nods, probably excessively. Shifts to the side and says, voice ridiculously stupid because he spend the whole morning reading The Hobbit to Cassie before she left for her playdate, "Yeah, of course."
His throat aches. Wanda walks in. It's clean, when he thinks of it like this, instant-by-instant, frame-by-frame, moment-by-moment. It seems... understandable, he supposes. A clear-cut sequence of events, a logical progression.
It doesn't feel like that, in the moment. It feels like his head swimming, trying to parse through and understand why she's here, why the backpack's on her shoulders, why it looks like she's running away when he knows that the Avengers adore her.
He hadn't seen the news, then. He doesn't remember that, no, but it's the logical conclusion to make. He's not a news type of guy. He reads (re: steals) Maggie's copy of the Economist to read sometimes (and it's strange, how little moments from before have carried into the after, but he and Maggie aren't like that anymore, they're close, yes-but not like that) but that's about it.
So, he didn't know about the hospital. About the bomb. About why Wanda's here in her worn leather jacket and new combat boots, hair messy like she hasn't had time to brush it even though it's the middle of the day.
But he lets her in. And that's-that's important, he thinks.
"If you're okay with it, you can sleep in my bed," he runs his fingers through his hair and tries to gather his thoughts, "But if that's too weird for you, I do have an air mattress."
"The air mattress is fine," Wanda says politely, and he doesn't press even though he's fairly sure that she's only picked it to be polite because it is, after all, kind of weird to sleep in someone else's bed. Kind of creepy if you think too hard about it, but Scott's not going to.
"Okay," he says instead. So eloquent. "Well, um, do you want me to show you around, or..."
"I don't want to be an inconvenience," Wanda answers wearily, and she seems small, somehow, like a little girl trying to figure out her future, holding a crayon to construction paper.
"You won't be," Scott shoves his hands in his pockets as Wanda toes off her boots, "Any requests for dinner? I was planning to eat the leftover eggplant, but," he shudders, "I'd really be glad to eat anything else."
He loves eggplant. Eggplant is great. But he doesn't want Wanda to say anything is fine or something like that.
Judging by the wry smile she shoots him, she knows, but she plays along all the same. "Those burgers, from last time, maybe? With the red onions and the goat cheese?"
"The soy burgers," Scott makes a face to see if he can make her laugh. She does, and he grins, satisfaction swelling in his chest, "Fine, fine. Eat me out of the house, why not."
"Somehow I think that you'll manage," Wanda props her chin on her hands, smiling sweetly, "And if you don't, Tony-" she freezes and cuts off, looks away, and Scott balances in his head will you regret this?
He takes a risk.
"Do they know that you're here?" he asks, but he knows the answer.
Wanda's silence is a clear no.
"I don't mind," he says, leans against his kitchen counter, rests his weight on the heels of his palms and tries to sort his thoughts into words, "But the others are worried about you, I'm sure."
She scowls down at her boots, those clunky, weighted boots that make every step she takes an act of strength, and mumbles, "I messed up."
He laughs and says, "I went to jail when Cassie was really young. Wasn't here for her, left Maggie to raise her all on her own. I know about messing up, kid."
"Not a kid," Wanda says, more reflex than anything, eyebrows knit together. "It was a really big mess. A really, really big one. I-the government is trying to regulate the Avengers now, because of what I did."
"The government?" Scott winces, "It probably wasn't your fault, then. You were, at best, a good excuse for them to swoop in. They've been wanting to regulate the Avengers since New York. Maybe even before that."
She chips at her nail polish, soft blue, smooth. Probably Bruce's doing. "...I gave them an excuse."
"It could have been anyone," Scott shrugs, "It would have been me. Or Tony. Or Steve. Or-anyone, really. Except maybe Hope," he winks, "she's too good for that."
That makes Wanda laugh, a small, hesitant thing, but Scott feels proud, all the same, that he could make her laugh like that.
"Oh, or Clint," Scott snaps his fingers, "Not because he's, like, better than us-" God knows that Clint is the most disaster-y-est human of them all, except maybe Scott. Scott is only really below him in disaster levels because he's got a kid, to be completely honest. "-but he's, y'know, dating Coulson, and Coulson could get him out of any trouble."
"Right," Wanda shoves her hands in her pockets, "Then-can I borrow your phone?"
"Yeah, of course," Scott tilts his head to the side, "We still up for burgers?"
Wanda smiles at him, "If you're alright with it."
"No problem," he finger guns and waltzes from the room. He can still hear her laughter, faint, as he's walking to his room.
Cap comes a little after dinner with his sad golden retriever face and Scott leaves him with Wanda for a while. He hears some things like, thank you and saved my life and not your fault.
When Cap comes back out, he's Steve again, not the leader, just a tired, really buff guy (Scott is trying not to think about Steve's buffness, but come on, he's, like, everything that Scott is not), and he asks, low and under his breath, "Do you mind if Wanda stays? She wants some time away from the whole-" he waves his hand.
Scott nods, "That was the plan," he agrees as brightly as he can manage, "You want any fries? We have a box leftover."
An amused smile crosses Steve's face, "I thought you always got extra fries for Cassie?"
Scott squints at Steve, "Cassie is tiny. You're big. I feel like you need food more than she does."
This pulls a laugh out of Steve, "If you don't mind, I'll take a handful."
"Take half, if you want," Scott waves a hand, "There was a deal on the X-Large, and I didn't predict how-" he blanches, thinking of the box the size of his torso and Wanda's laughter when he asks her to levitate it with her magic, "large it would be."
Steve adopts a look that's weirdly fond, and agrees.
(Later, when he's leaving, standing at the door with a glass container of food in hand, Scott hears him whisper to Wanda, he's like the team mom. Wanda laughs and says, no, you are. He's the grandma. Scott pouts at them and then laugh at him.)
Then Steve's gone, and Scott's left with Wanda. Unsure of what to say, he shifts a bit, and then, sighs, "I don't suppose you want to make a pillow fort?"
She does.
Peter, Scott would just like to say, is Tony's kid. 100%, totally Tony's kid. Wasn't always in the past, but he is now, and he always will be.
That being said...
Scott first sees him the night after a movie night at the Avengers' Tower.
The whole Accords debacle has been neatly tied together after late nights with Tony and Steve's voices rising, ending in Spider-man and the Winter Soldier's appearances at the Tower. Scott still hasn't heard the exact details, but they've reached an agreement that allows them to operate on their own while following certain no-no's from the government, mainly stuff like 'don't use your powers to massacre any cities' and stuff that Scott probably wouldn't have done anyways.
Here's the thing: Spider-man isn't an Avenger. He's under Tony's protection, sure, but Tony's an emotionally constipated asshole who, yes, is wonderful, but, y'know, still is learning how to do relationships.
("He's friends with Bruce, isn't he?" Scott asks Natasha, who's hair is neatly pinned back, dressed in a baby blue sundress, looking like a college girl in her early-20's going on a date.
"Bruce is debatably worse than Tony at this kind of stuff," Natasha says, kicking her bright red sneakers. "Tony gives Bruce space, which Bruce likes, but for anyone other than Bruce, Tony's idea of 'space' would seem like 'he hates me and doesn't want to be around me'."
"Ah," Scott says, delicately, "But, Steve's also good friends with him, right?"
"They're the co-captains of this team," Natasha shrugs and wipes her face clear of makeup, "They spend tons of time together. But even then, Steve doesn't spend a lot of his time around. He's off volunteering at a nursing home, visiting the nursing home, jogging, or travelling. And unlike everyone else, Steve still isn't too used to using technology to communicate with others, so if Tony doesn't talk to him for a month, it makes sense in Steve's head, because he prefers talking to people in-person. If someone doesn't talk to you for a month..." she raises an eyebrow at him.
Scott flushes, "I think that they think that I'm annoying."
"Exactly," she applies her lipstick and ruffles her hair a bit to make stray wisps fly up, "Tony's trying, but he's absent minded at best. He's an introvert, but he acts all," she waves a hand, "You know how he is."
Scott nods, "And you?"
Natasha grins at him, a weird grin that makes her look young but weary, "I know what people want. Tony doesn't. We're two sides of the extremes. If everyone could be like you, on the other hand," she smiles and raps her knuckles against his chest, "That would make things much easier, wouldn't it?"
"I'm not that good with people," Scott reddens.
"How often do you check your texts?"
Scott shrugs, "It depends on the day?"
"But you do it every day?"
"Well, yeah."
"Then you're miles ahead of the rest of us," Natasha gives him a twirl, "How do I look?"
"Like a college girl on a date."
"Perfect," Natasha grins, "I'm going to take down a human trafficking ring that specializes in drugging college girls in bars. Wish me luck!"
"Your life is so exciting," Scott leans back, "Please never involve me in it."
"Grandpa," she teases.
"Grandma, according to everyone else," Scott pouts.
She pats his cheek with a hand, "It's your personality."
"What part of me is like a grandma?"
"Oh, sweetie," she laughs and waves a hand, "Tell Steve that I'm off clubbing. I want to see his face."
"Evil," Scott sighs.
Natasha winks and then she's off.)
So. Back to Spider-man.
He's not an Avenger. He doesn't even train with the Avengers.
"He's self conscious about his identity," Tony says petulantly, "So, like. If you men could keep your noses out of his business, that would be great."
"Men?" Natasha raises an eyebrow.
Wanda tilts her head to the side and Hope shoots Scott a Look as though to say please tell me that I don't have to castrate him.
"You're not going to listen," Tony points at Natasha, "You, he actually trusts for whatever reason, as do I," he turns to Wanda, who looks pleased at this revelation, "And you..." Tony turns to Hope, "You give off the vibe of not caring about secret identities, so I feel like you don't really need the reminder."
Hope seems vaguely pleased, "But what if I did care?"
"Not like I could stop you," Tony throws his hands in the air, "Nobody controls you, so I've got no leash for you to be kept on."
"I like him," Hope whispers to Scott.
Scott kisses her cheek, "he knows you well."
Tony makes gagging noises and says, "Can we move on?"
Hope rolls her eyes and Scott feels many emotions. (Mostly love. Totally love. His girlfriend is so badass.)
So nobody knows.
And when Peter Parker comes, he comes with Harley Keener and Gwen Stacy, so nobody thinks too much of it. Harley Keener, who has met Tony in the past, and Gwen Stacy, who used to work with the Lizard, are interesting enough in their own rights, and Peter, who dated the Vulture's daughter, seems fairly normal otherwise.
And, obviously, this is Tony, so when the three interns (who they get attached to disturbingly quickly) are offered a place in the Tower, nobody's super surprised. Harley and his mom take a room near R&D, and Peter and his aunt take a room near Tony's workshop. Gwen decides not to make the move, but Tony's working on her, much to Pepper's chagrin.
So when Scott goes out to the kitchen at midnight, and Peter is sitting there, a Hulk-themed mug in hand (Tony's sense of humor again), he isn't really surprised.
"Late night?" he asks sympathetically.
"Mr. Stark won't sleep," Peter groans, face planting on the counter, "Mrs. Potts drugged his coffee."
"Decaf, I hope," Scott makes a face.
Peter shudders, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to mix caffeine with sleeping pills."
"I think that it can stop your heart," Scott agrees.
"Oh my god," Peter slumps, "Kill me now."
Scott laughs at pats Peter's shoulder, "Maybe not kill you, but if you'd like some crepes-"
Peter's head snaps up, "You can make crepes?" he asks in wonder.
"If you like them," Scott smiles, "Just let me get my daughter, she loves them."
Peter squints, "Isn't she that really small kid that I've seen around?"
"Cassie's got the long weekend off," Scott shrugs, "we were reading Princess Academy."
"Ah," Peter says, like it doesn't fully compute, but he doesn't want to say so.
Scott smiles. Peter really is still a kid, getting sort of spacey when he's sleepy like that. "I'll be back."
"Mm."
Scott sets Cassie on the counter. She's about as spacey as Peter, so their enthusiastic conversation remains spacey, each one pausing a bit to fully process before responding.
("So there were aliens!"
A long beat.
Scott pours in some batter. It sizzles. He finishes making a crepe, everything is still silent.
Another long beat.
And then, the reply, in Peter's enthusiastic voice, "Aliens are so cool! Have you met Valkyrie yet?"
A pause.
He butters the crepe. Sprinkles on red sugar. Folds it. Sprinkles powdered sugar on top. A bit of whipped cream.
Silence.
And then, Cassie's voice, "Yeah! She's the pretty lady who likes punching people, right?"
And so forth. Literally minutes pass between replies, sometimes. But they seem content, so Scott doesn't interrupt.)
"Bottoms up," he slides the crepes over.
The kids stare at the crepes. Scott waits awkwardly. Is this a reaction to the crepes or is it just...
After what feels like eternity, Peter picks up the fork and starts eating, Cassie staring for a moment before following suit and eating enthusiastically.
Halfway into his crepe, Peter drops his fork and belatedly yelps, "Thank you, Mr. Lang!"
Scott stares, and sighs, "After this, brush your teeth and go to sleep."
Peter stares at him like he's grown two heads, and then offers a thumbs up. "I have to brush my teeth?"
"Of course you do!" Cassie exclaims.
They have another conversation about brushing teeth and hygiene.
Scott finishes his crepes and prays that these children get enough sleep.
("He's sleeping with us," Cassie says, once the dishes are washed and put away by Scott, who doesn't trust the children to wash them in their tired states, after their teeth are brushed and they've changed into their pajamas.
Scott, who's to tired to deal with this, shrugs, "Yeah, okay. If he can fit in the fort, he's welcome to join."
"Thank you, Mr. Lang," Peter says.
Scott waves a hand and bites back a yawn.)