A/N: I know, I know. To all my In the Dark people, I know I said it would be updated soon… sorry! I've had a bit of a hard time with the chapter, but I'm working hard! It will be completed sometime in the next week.

Also, it has come to my attention that a lot of people use a car crash as a way to kill May. Sorry! It just seemed to fit best with my story. Any apologies if you are tired of this particular trope.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy today's chapter (in which we learn more about our favorite Spider-Boy), and make sure to leave any comments/suggestions in the reviews below!

(This is so awkward) Peter had to move slowly, but he did his best to lead Loki around. They had done the "magic-zappy thingy" into West Queens, seeing as the Tower was pretty far. He could tell that how slow they were going was bothering the man, but he didn't say anything about it.

"And that's Mr. Delmar's. I used to go there everyday after school for sandwiches. I like it squished down flat, and they always make fun of me for it. In Italian. 'Odia il pane!'" Peter imitated. "But luckily, May taught me a little bit of Italian when I was younger. My uncle Ben always said that-" Peter fiddled with his sleeve (shoot, I'm rambling). "Heh. Sorry. You probably don't care..."

Loki eyed him without turning his head. "It's alright, Spider-Child. Thor talks my ear off all the time." He sighed with annoyance.

"Really… uh, call me Peter. And, it can't be so bad having a sibling… right?"

He was impressed with how much Peter looked like a puppy. His eyes were large and sad, and if he didn't look so sincere, Loki would say he was faking. After all, he had played the same trick on his brother a few times.

"Not always, I suppose. Although, he did throw me at a number of-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Peter stopped and stared at him. "He threw you? Like, at something?"

The taller man offered a tiny smile. "Yes. At someone, actually. On multiple occasions."

Peter laughed. "That's awesome!" (Oh no. It's quiet. He's not responding! What do I say?) "So… aren't you, and I don't mean to be offensive, a bad guy?"

Loki sighed and crossed his arms. "The New York thing was… complicated. As for normally, it varies from moment to moment."

"So like, on a scale from one…" he held his hands close together. "One being like… spit in your coffee or something, to ten," he spread his arms wide apart. "Ten being, I don't know… kicking puppies, what are you at right now?"

Loki had the strange urge to laugh. He hadn't thought about it like that before. "I would say a three."

"Cool," Peter smiled. "Let me know if it gets above a six. Oh," he stopped in front of a small, ramshackle brick structure that looked to be about four stories high. To add to the affect, a rat scuttled across the metal railing of the stairs. "This is my building. You don't have to walk me up to the apartment, it's not that far."

"Very well, then. Farewell… Peter." He was gone.

Peter chuckled faintly. "That is so cool."

He made his way around the back of the building and began to crawl up the side. When he arrived on the roof, Peter grabbed the only blanket he owned and threw it around his shoulders. In the last couple months, the secluded space had become his home.

A dirty looking mattress rested under a makeshift roof that he had built from some scrap metal he found. Peter had received an old, baby blue suitcase from his father that sat next to the bed. It, and a small backpack, carried everything he owned. Small computer parts were scattered on the bed (man, I really need to clean up around here). The entire set-up was tucked between a big cement structure that he assumed held mechanical tools and the lip of the building. It wasn't much, but Peter didn't mind it. At least, not anymore.

It had been rough the first week after May died. She didn't have any living family members left, so he had to sell most of the apartment to provide a humble funeral. Ned and MJ's families, plus a few friends and coworkers, were the only ones besides Peter to attend. He didn't care about that, though. She wouldn't have wanted anyone else.

He remembered sitting with a tired looking woman about where he was going to live.

"Are you aware of any living relatives?" She placed his file on top of a stack of others. Seeing them all sent a pang of guilt through him (why should they care about me? I'm fine… some other kids need this more).

"Uh, no. Her uncle passed away after my last birthday." He shifted nervously.

"Oh? How old are you?"

"I- I just turned 18," he lied (I'm wasting her time with my story. This is the best way I can help people deserving of her).

"Do you have a birth certificate? Proof you can legally live on your own?" The woman raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"I'm sure May kept them somewhere… I, uh… haven't gone through her stuff yet…"

She cringed with sympathy. "Listen, kid, you can bring me that tomorrow, ok?"

"Ok," he agreed (that gives me enough time to forge anything I need to forge).

Peter escaped from his memory at the realization that he was almost out of toothpaste. He was living on the things that were already in the apartment when he was forced to leave... The remaining money from selling most of their belongings he was using to pay for a tiny rental garage for anything he couldn't take with him. There was enough to pay for it until he finished school (luckily they let me stay to finish Junior year… but after this…), and he figured he could find a job that would provide more.

For now, he was working as a busboy at a… humble chinese restaurant downtown. That only gave Peter enough to ensure people didn't question his "Aunt Jane" thing.

"Home sweet home," he muttered, grabbing his toothbrush and heading to the water spout in the opposite corner. He was lucky enough to find a tiny spigot that came out at the top of the building. It was probably previously used for a garden, before the place was trashed. The only thing that grew up there anymore was weeds.

It wasn't all bad. There was a gas station next door where he went to the bathroom and took showers. And yeah, some days he would be so hungry that he could hardly swing around the city, and it got a little cold sometimes. But other than that, Peter couldn't complain. Not everyone was as fortunate as him.

After brushing his teeth, he washed his face with cold water and went to bed. It wasn't too cold tonight, and it wasn't nearly as freezing as the first couple nights he spent like this. It seemed his body had adapted.

Peter forced his stiff fingers to send a text to his group chat (hmm… I wonder when the next phone bill is).

1:00am (Peter Parker): is there math due tomorrow ?

1:00am (Michelle Jones): no.

1:01am (Ned Leeds): What are you guys doing up so late?

1:01am (Michelle Jones): says u

1:01am (Peter Parker): speaking of which im going to bed. ttyl

1:01am (Ned Leeds): See you tomorrow!

1:01am (Michelle Jones): gn losers

xXx

A sleek black car with tinted windows rolled up beside Peter. "So, you gonna tell me why you lied, Parker?" Mr. Stark, of all people, leaned out of the window. Today, his glasses were tinted red.

Peter tried to ignore the ice that was rushing through his veins and the panic that was stuck in the back of his throat. "W-what do you mean?"

Tony leaned farther out into the open air. "Your injury," he indicated to Peter's side. "You said you were going to come in yesterday to have it checked out."

Relief replaced the ice inside of him. "Oh. Yeah, I had work and couldn't make it."

"You're sixteen, don't you have a phone?"

"It's, uh… broken," he shrugged (that was not one of my finer excuses. He's gonna see right through me).

"Mmhm…" He couldn't see Mr. Stark's expression through his sunglasses. "You free?"

"Yeah, I think so." (For once, they don't need me at the restaurant.)

"Get in. We're gonna pay a visit to Brucie." The window slid up, and Peter stood on the sidewalk for a second, dumbfounded. He shook off the initial confusion and hurried into the expensive Audi. The interior was just as elegant and glossy as the outside, and Peter couldn't help but feel like he didn't belong.

Tony scooted into the other seat and faced him. "Peanut?" He said, offering a small bag.

"No thanks," Peter replied. He hated accepting things from others… especially food. He could fend for himself… he had been for weeks.

"Alright, kid. Happy!" The man driving turned around, waiting. "Take us to the Tower."

"Yeah, yeah," the guy, Happy, said. He looked grouchy, not like his name would suggest. "Wouldn't hurt you to say please once in a while," he muttered. If Peter wasn't enhanced, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

"So, Pete. I hear you're some kind of genius." Tony stopped fiddling with his phone and took off his sunglasses. His dark brown eyes were curious.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"I- did some digging, but that's not the point." (did some digging? What does that mean?) "The point is… I could use someone like you at the Tower. An… intern, of sorts."

"Really? You're serious?"

"As the plague," he said, holding up two fingers solemnly.

"Well, I have work and academic decathlon practice everyday after school except Fridays, and-"

"Fridays it is, then! Happy can pick you up from school-"

"Hey!" At the mention of this, the driver turned and glared at them. "I am not a chauffeur!"

"Calm down," Mr. Stark waved a hand. "It's good to try new things. Anway, we can send you home at… 6? That work, Underoos?"

"Underoos? What does-"

"Perfect! I'll see you Friday."

xXx

"Your wound has completely closed! Has it been bothering you at all?" Dr. Banner disposed of the unused bandages in a trash can.

"Not recently," Peter said. He looked off, distracted by the hum of a nearby machine.

"Tony, this is faster than Steve's ever healed," Bruce whispered to Mr. Stark. "The kid's got huge potential. Don't screw this one up."

"No pressure," Tony replied wryly, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry, big guy. I've got this." Bruce gave him a look. "Ehh… probably."

He walked over and plopped onto the bench next to Peter. "So, Spider-Kid. How do you feel about some bonding time? Some one-on-one with New York's favorite Avenger."

"Debatable," someone said from the doorway.

It was Loki. And Thor (Thor! God of Thunder! Oh my gosh! Do I bow? Isn't he a king?), waving from behind him. Peter's couldn't seem to close his mouth; it was gaping open, like a fish.

"Ah," Tony said, standing and spreading his arms. "It's our favorite princes, back from the Tundras."

The God of Mischief rolled his eyes. "One of us is technically a King, and should be addressed as-"

"Brother," Thor interrupted cheerily. "No matter. On to business," The muscular man clapped Tony on the shoulder, and then saw Peter. "Stark! I didn't know you had a son! Tell me, when did this happen?" He winked.

"Cool it, Point Break, he's not mine. This is Peter Parker, he's interning for me."

"Good to meet you, Peter," Thor said, smiling.

"Y-you… too," the kid replied, trying to recover from the initial shock.

Loki shook his head, exasperated. "We didn't go to Northern Russia for nothing, brother."

"Of course! Stark, we-"

"Come on now, let's not bore the kid with business," Tony interrupted (dang, I was hoping to hear some Avengers stuff). "How about we move this elsewhere? Glinda, you stay with Peter. We wouldn't want him to get bored. And besides, this will only take a few minutes."

"Glinda?" Thor's expression was that of a mischievous sibling. He was going to use that one later.

Loki smirked. "I'll be sure to keep him entertained, Anthony."

Tony didn't seem to be affected, but it was hard to tell seeing as he was already halfway out the door.

"If you do anything stupid, I'll kill you!" Mr. Stark called as the door closed.

"You couldn't if you tried," muttered the black-haired man. He remembered Peter and turned swiftly. "5," he commented, then sat down in a chair across from the teen (5? Is that like… taking someone's lunch money?).

Loki seemed frustrated, so Peter began to chatter about school. While it was rather annoying at first, it became kind of comforting. At last, he was in a conversation where nothing was required of him. It was nice. Occasionally, he added in little stories or thoughts, but he mostly let Peter talk. Loki decided that he didn't mind Peter's company… perhaps they would even talk again.

When Tony and Thor returned, Loki got up, nodded to Peter and said, "2." Then, he was gone (gosh... this guy disappears often!).

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! AS A NOTE: I did NOT (DID NOT) come up with the "Loki-rate-your-evil" thing. I first saw it in a story called Spider and Snake by Karmitara, but the og idea was a tumblr post. Their username is: Artemxmendacium

REVIEWS:

Belbelanne: Why, thank you! We shall see, my friend. We shall see ;)

JesseWells: Aww, thank you! I appreciate your review :D

xSapphirexRosesxFanx: Sorry, I guess he didn't this chapter. But soon! Probably :)

See you next time!

-katilange