"We'll call you."

Two months had passed since then, each day longer than the last, where he had some good patrols (stopped some thieves, prevented a mugging, helped some tourists understand the subway,) but his nightly briefings to Happy were constantly left on voicemail, and he hadn't gotten a thing since. He was trying his best to just go back to school and pretend that finding molecular mass in chemistry class was his biggest concern, but he couldn't keep his mind away from the feeling of Cap's shield in his hands- light enough that he could barely feel it, but heavy with the weight of being Captain America's shield and he was holding it in his own hands and oh my god-

Another uneventful school day passed, where he'd managed to finish his homework in class, giving him plenty of time for patrol, but he'd forgotten the hood of his suit and had to run back home to grab it first.

"May?" he called out, pocketing his keys. No answer through the apartment- she was probably still at work, which was a good thing, because he was already running late for his patrol duties. Barging into his room before slinging his backpack on the floor, he almost didn't notice the note on his desk.

Not even an envelope, just folded over paper, with handwriting scrawled across the front.

We're calling you.

His heart leapt as he immediately made to unfold the paper, but all that was inside was a short sentence, in the same handwriting- Peter didn't know Mr. Stark's well enough yet to tell if it was from him specifically, but he did say his 'people' would call him, so maybe it was Happy's.

Avenger's compound. Four o'clock. Bring your suit.

Beaming, Peter shoved the note into his pocket and grabbed the mask he'd forgotten that morning out of the hiding place in his closet. He donned the rest of the suit, leaving his backpack on the floor- they were probably going somewhere really cool and really far away, so he grabbed his cellphone but left everything else, just in case he had to be extra mobile- and leapt out his window, slinging his way towards the compound with excited fire licking inside of his chest.

– –

He got there just in time, where Happy was waiting for him at the entrance. "Great, kid, you're here- c'mon." He ushered him inside, a bit too casual to suggest anything intense was wrong, but being head of security maybe he had a better mask than Peter had originally read on him. He pulled off his hood, beaming.

"So where are we going this time? Back to Berlin? London? Siberia?" He'd known about the disaster that had happened in Sokovia- of course, everyone did, that lead to the whole Sokovia Accord debacle that Mr. Stark had recruited him for in the first place, but he doubted they were going back there. Unless it was for some sort of recon? Maybe they were trying to get everyone back. together ? "I just gotta call my Aunt May and tell her we're going on an internship trip, but she's pretty chill about that-"

"Relax, kid." Happy led him into the elevator and pressed a button for an upper floor. "We're just going to the gym."

Peter deflated a little- but still. Gym was good. Maybe it was more training, for their next mission, which he could definitely use. He was really good with his slingers and stuff already, but his hand to hand was terrible and who knew what they would be up against-

The elevators slid open to reveal a fully equipped gym that seemed to take up the entire floor, with space for a boxing ring, combat mats, the usual weight machines you'd find in a gym and, off to the left, looked like an enclosure for an indoor pool. There were punching bags of various sizes, climbing ropes, chalk bins for your hands and rolls of gauze near the boxing ring- but the gym was entirely empty it seemed, no Avengers left to use any of the equipment. Or, none left yet. They had to be going on a mission to reunite the team, that was the only explanation.

"So does Mr. Stark want to train me? Are we going somewhere super dangerous next? I know everyone's in hiding, are we going to go hunt them down? Or maybe not hunt them down, that's not a good use of words because they're our friends and all, but maybe we're going to- "

Happy held out a hand. "We're not going anywhere, but you're right, Mr. Stark does want to train you. It's part of your newest assignment."

Oooh, an assignment. That sounded important. After all, that meant he was hand picked by Mr. Stark for it, so it had to be important. "Assignment?" he asked, the excitement still dancing behind his words. Happy nodded.

"She's over there."

….She?

Towards the corner of the room, nearly hidden by the hanging boxing bags, were some yoga mats laid out on the floor where a slight girl around his age with blonde hair was doing some stretches. Peter furrowed his brow. "Happy, what does she have to do with-"

"Mr. Stark thought it would be good for you to have a sparring partner, and seeing as we just got her shipped over to us hopefully you two could be friends."

Friends? His new assignment was to make friends? He already had friends- well, okay, he had Ned, but that was still a friend.

Also, shipped over?

"Besides, we're going to need you to watch over her for a little while."

This time Peter deflated entirely. "You mean like babysitting?"

Happy snickered. "I wouldn't call it babysitting, but sort of- Tony can explain more when he gets here, but we're going to need you as our point guy on this."

Mr. Stark was coming?! The excitement that had been beginning to dwindle fired back up again. And Point Guy, okay, that sounded important. He could do that.

"Okay, so now what?"

Happy waved him off, ushering him further into the gym. "Go. Mingle. Be free."

Peter chuckled, and began to make his way further into the gym. He turned to ask Happy when Mr. Stark would be coming around, but by the time he had turned the elevator had already closed.

The girl didn't stop stretching-or acknowledge his presence- now in full side splits with her stomach on the floor, drumming her hands along the mat as if she were just casually sitting there, not doing any sort of counts or anything. Peter walked up to the mat and sat down across from her.

There was a beat before she lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes a piercing blue against her fine features. She smiled a bit. "You must be Spiderman." Her eyes raked his outfit and Peter could feel heat flood his face. She was pretty, in a delicate sort of way, but he couldn't help but feel like he was being judged.

"Yeah, erm, I'm Parker. Peter. Peter Parker."

The girl grinned. "Okay Parker Peter Peter Parker. I'm Katya."

"Do you have a last name?" The question was out before he realized that sounded kind of rude.

Her brows furrowed for a moment. "I guess? Natasha told me Myshkova, but that's kind of a joke."

Peter raised an eyebrow. Natasha 'told' her? Did she not know her own last name? He began to stretch, too, splaying his legs like she had moments before. He never thought of himself as stiff, but compared to the girl, who was now adjusting herself to lie flat over her bent knees, back hitting the floor- her hamstrings had to be elastic. "How is it a joke?"

This time the girls smile was smaller, and a little….sadder? But still there. "She calls me Myshka like Yelena did, after the spider."

"Myshka means spider?"

She grinned, somersaulting backwards out of her position and into forward splits. "No, Myshka means…" she took a second to search for the word. Between her slight accent and her hesitation, Peter realized that English was definitely not her first language, though she seemed to speak it nearly perfectly. "Mouse." she bent her chest forward to touch her knee, and Peter inwardly winced. He could barely do front splits, much less as deep as that, but this girl clearly had prior training. Plus, she knew Natasha.

"Like a Mouse Spider?"

The girl beamed, straightening up. "Exactly!"

"So you're not a black widow then."

Wrong sentence. The girl's face darkened immediately, and she hesitated. "No, I'm not. I'm…." she trailed off, and straightened up to sit cross legged. She brought her arms across her chest to give her shoulders a stretch. "I'm done with that now."

Done with that now? What was that supposed to mean? His question flew out before he could stop it. "What do you mean done?"

The girl's face darkened again and she stood up, tugging her ankles to her glutes quickly and shaking out her limbs to distribute all of the stretches. "I mean done." she muttered. "Let's go."

— –

They headed towards the boxing ring first, where she immediately began to bandage her knuckles. "I was told you have no training and to be nice," she said, her voice much terser than it had been before. Peter was getting the feeling that he really shouldn't have asked the last question. "So think of this as an assessment of sorts."

Peter scoffed inwardly. He didn't want to discount her, despite her small stature, but there was no way that his size wouldn't be some sort of advantage. "Okay, but I'm pretty quick. I'm Spiderman after all." he gestured towards his suit, enjoying the warmth that the pride that statement always brought him. Not Spider-ling, not Spider-boy…SpiderMan.

She snorted, tossing the gauze she was now finished with over to his hands. Peter wondered momentarily if he even needed it given that his hands were still gloved in his suit, but he put some on anyway. Something about the way the girl carried herself told him not to take her too lightly, though that fought against every instinct he had.

The girl had dropped herself into a typical boxing stance, light on her toes, hands up in front of her face. He still couldn't help thinking Mouse was a much more appropriate nickname than she seemed to enjoy. He was nearly an entire head taller than her. "I don't want to hurt you." He added, instinctively.

"And I was told not to break any of your bones. So I think we're even."

Peter's eyes widened and for a moment his body seized, the familiar sensation of nervousness traveling up his spine, but he tried to shake them away as he mimicked her stance.

"First one flat on their back for a count of three loses the round." She told him. Peter nodded.

"Tap out if you feel you need to." She added, and Peter steeled his face, still not sure how to react. He hoped this wasn't Mr. Stark's way of messing with him, but at least he was letting him do something.

"I'll count down from three, and then we go, yes?" Or do you want to count?"

Peter shook his head, bouncing between the balls of his feet. "I"m ready. You count."

She shrugged. "Okay. Three….two….one."

His back hit the mat before he could register she'd even moved, winding him. She pressed his shoulders down to the mat, counting to three, before releasing him, rolling off of him and somersaulting back into a standing position to give him some space. Peter coughed as he sat up, regaining his breath. What the hell had just happened?

The girl nodded to herself, scanning him with her eyes, clearly calculating. "Okay, that was too much. I'm sorry." She lowered her stance this time, flattening her feet and letting her arms down to the side, "Lets try again."

Peter took a deep breath. That first one had to be a fluke, maybe he hadn't been as ready as he'd thought he'd been, but this time he made sure he was extra agile on his feet and that his Spider-senses were dialed up as quickly as they could be. He nodded, and she counted down again.

This time Peter managed to dodge her first few punches, before grabbing the fist she'd sent towards his right and pulling her arm towards, then behind him, She spun around quickly, her leg following, and kicked him directly in the chest. Peter flew backward, hitting the ropes that guarded the boxing ring for exactly this reason. The air escaping his chest again, he coughed, but forced himself back up.

"Raise your hands more." She instructed, circling him. "Protect your face." She demonstrated, but stayed flat footed. "Watch my feet." She raised herself back to the balls other feet and began to bounce, as he was, ready for another exchange. This time Peter punched first, but she dodged, before grabbing his free wrist and twisting it in such a way that he had no choice but to fall to his knees. He cried out more in surprise than pain.

She released him immediately, and backed up to allow them some distance. "But watch my hands, too."

Peter huffed, standing back up. Okay, watch hands. Watch feet. Watch everything. Got it. Easy.

Over the next fifteen minutes, where she spent the primary amount of time dodging his attacks rather than actually lashing out herself, he still managed to get laid out three more times. Fuck her stature, this girl was strong. And it was annoying.

"Where did you learn to do all of this?" he asked, trying to hide how breathless he was. "Are you an Avenger?"

The girl pursed her lips. "School." she answered simply. "And no."

Half an hour later, Peter could feel the bruises spreading throughout his body but he'd at least managed to get a hit or two in, though it was when she was flat footed and they'd kind of been cheap shots because she'd been talking. They were about to go again before the elevator doors slid open and Mr. Stark stepped out.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Peter broke his stance and immediately clambered over the edge of the ring to greet him. "Mr Stark! Hey!"

"Hey kid," he greeted, though his voice was practically monotone compared to Peter's obvious excitement. "You doing okay?"

He glanced back to Myshka- Katya- who was unrolling the now bloodied gauze from her hands, though Peter knew it wasn't her blood that had stained the bandages. He wiped his nose self consciously, but thankfully it had stopped bleeding. He nodded hurriedly.

"Yeah, yeah, this was fun." He sniffed, his nose still thick with dried blood, and the pressure that took reminded him of his bruised ribs. He stifled a wince. "Hard, but fun. Are we prepping for something?"

Mr. Stark walked further into the room, over to the boxing ring where Katya was now just stepping out of. He ruffled her hair in what would have been an affectionate gesture, but Katya froze until he was done, as if she didn't know how to react. "You could say that." He answered, backing away to give Katya some space. Wordlessly, she deposited the bloody bandages in the trash can near the boxing ring before standing just a bit away from the two of them, back straight- she had weirdly good posture for a kid- her eyes darting between the two of them as they spoke.

"We're always prepping for something." Mr. Stark continued, "And you could definitely use the help."

Pete fought a scowl, but knew his mentor wasn't wrong. At first he wanted to ask how he knew, since he hadn't even been here, but it was Avengers Tower, no doubt full of Stark Industry tech, so he'd probably been watching from somewhere else through cameras. He nodded. "Yeah, I guess I could."

Mr. Stark smiled in more of a self-satisfied way than anything else. "Perfect. So I can partner you up without feeling too bad."

Partner them up? What was that supposed to mean? Though Peter wanted nothing more than to be an Avenger, of course, Neighborhood Spiderman worked alone. "Erm-"

"I'm not asking too much of you." Mr. Stark continued, but paused. "Well, given what I just witnessed, maybe I'm asking a lot, but its not too much."

"Is this prep for our next mission?"

"It's prep for whatever you need it to be." Stark answered, almost too quickly. "But your current mission is a little different. You two will keep training-'' he glanced over at Katya, who had taken a towel to wipe the nonexistent sweat off her face, before grabbing a fresh one and heading over. She pushed it to Peter's chest wordlessly and he gratefully accepted, wiping his own still dripping brow. A bit of rusted blood came off as well, but nothing was actively bleeding. "-but what I need from you most is your help getting her situated."

Peter raised an eyebrow. Getting her situated? She seemed perfectly capable with how she was doing now. Mr. Stark shook his head, as if reading Peter's thoughts.

"Not with any of this-" he waved back at the gym dismissively. "With school and stuff."

Wait, school?

Mr. Stark turned to Katya as if to give her an opportunity to explain herself, but she was steadily watching her bare feet, which she'd taken the bandages off as well at some point- Peter hadn't noticed when. "It's a long story, one she-" he stressed, looking back at her again. She was steadily avoiding his gaze, and Mr. Stark sighed, "-can tell you some time, but to quicken up this conversation-" Mr. Stark glanced at his holographic watch, as if he had somewhere to be- "We're trying to assimilate her into a regular lifestyle. No tricks or espionage-" he directed this last sentence towards Katya who, though still studying her feet, furrowed her brow. "Just regular school. She's going to be headed to yours, so you can keep an eye on her." Mr. Stark clasped Peter's shoulder at this. "You're gonna be my point guy on this, and still reporting to Happy. This is really important." he stressed, his voice genuine. "And there's no one else better fit for the job."

At that, Peter's chest swelled again with pride, but it was halted a bit. "So you just want me to go to school with her?" He glanced over at Katya, who had now begun to adjust her ponytail, but still avoided either of their gazes, as if she didn't care that they were talking about her like she wasn't even there.

"No, I want you to keep an eye on her. School is just part of it." Mr. Stark reached out to smooth the girl's hair down, which she scowled at, having just finished retying it up into it's original high ponytail. "I need your help to make sure she doesn't kill anyone."

Peter swallowed thickly. "Is she, er- trying to kill someone?"

"No." Katya finally spoke up, her voice low. "That's the whole point."

Peter didn't question what she meant by that, but this was the second time she'd alluded to something darker. He figured it'd be explained at some point. Besides, this was a mission from Mr. Stark, it had to be important. Maybe it was prep for something bigger. He nodded. "Okay, I can do that. When does she - or I mean, when do we start?"

Mr. Stark smiled but a smirk danced behind it. "Tomorrow."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Okay." He took a deep breath. He still didn't understand exactly what any of this meant, but he knew Mr. Stark wouldn't leave him just hanging.

"All right," Mr. Stark said, clasping him on the shoulder. "Back to your …patrol, or whatever it is you call it." He waved him off dismissively. "Happy will take you back."

Peter nodded, heading towards the elevator. Before it could ding closed, though, he added, "Thank you Mr. Stark! I won't let you down-"

The elevator slipped closed before he could finish.

A/N: Hey there! Thanks for reading! Just wanted to let you guys know that the faceclaim used for Katya is Anna Avermaete, but with blonde hair. Here's a good link for pictures of her: threads/anna-avermaete.399054/