Peter started skipping meals when his uncle died. He noticed how much Aunt May struggled just to keep up with rent, she couldn't afford to feed a teen with an enhanced metabolism that easily trumped a normal teen's 3 times over. Peter ate a little extra at school and bought what he could with the money he made moving lawns and fixing classmates' phones. When the winter season came, bills skyrocketed. A week long snowstorm caused their heating bill to soar along with the rest of Queens— which only meant rent would increase as well. Peter gave what little money he had saved to his aunt. Despite her protests, May and Peter both knew she needed the cash for rent. Things went this was for a couple of years. Peter ate what he could at school, skipped dinner and breakfast, and slipped the money he earned into his aunt's purse. And, that was the way things continued until Tony Stark offered Peter a paid internship as his personal lab assistant. That's how Peter found himself hugging Aunt May one last time while Happy loaded his bag into the trunk of the black Mercedes.

"You better call me every chance you get. I want to hear all about the cool science stuff you do," May stated as she hugged him again.

"I will, I promise," Peter responded.

"And you're sure you packed everything? Toothbrush, phone charger, clean underwear?" Peter's cheeks flushed. His ears caught Happy chuckling at May's words.

"May!" He urged with embarrassment.

"Fine. Fine, I'll stop mortifying you." May took one last look at Peter. She cupped his cheeks in a motherly fashion.

"Ben would be so proud of the man you've become." Peter's eyes filled with tears that he hastily blinked back.

"Ready to go?" Happy interrupted. May smiled reassuringly and stepped back. Peter got into the passenger's seat. He waved to his aunt as they drove away.

An hour and a half drive later, Happy pulled up to the Avenger's Tower. Peter stared out his window in awe as Happy parked the car in Tony's private garage.

"Well kid, welcome to your new home," Happy announced and led Peter to the elevator. FRIDAY scanned both men and beeped with recognition before closing the elevator doors and sending them up to the top floor.

"Good day, Happy Hogan and Peter Parker," FRIDAY greeted in her robotic voice. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Peter stepped out into the common room, turning back to see Happy didn't follow.

"Tony's on his way to greet you himself. I've got errands to run and your aunt to keep company." Before Peter could protest, the elevator doors closed and Peter was left standing alone in a room that felt too big, but suffocatingly small at the same time. His heart hammered in his chest and his lungs constricted. Peter ran his fingers through his floppy mass of chestnut hair, tugging on it until his scalp ached.

"Peter?" The teen in question quickly removed his hand from his hair and whipped around to face the one and only Tony Stark. Peter couldn't help but stare in shock (he would never get over being in the same room as his inventive idol).

"You okay, kid? You look really pale." Tony approached him with a raised brow. Peter tried to shake off his anxiety, but it stuck to the back of his mind.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine, Mr. Stark. It's all just very—" Peter struggled to find the right word.

"Overwhelming?" Tony suggested.

"Yeah. Overwhelming," the teen responded sheepishly. He was embarrassed by his stumbling. Tony seemed to find it charming— or amusing— and smiled. The older man patted Peter on the shoulder.

"Come on, Spider-Kid. Let's get you settled." Tony led the way out of the common room and down a hallway lined with doors. He stopped at one at the end and opened it.

"This one is yours." Peter nearly dropped his backpack with shock. He looked around, speechless. Above the king sized bed was a climbing wall. There was a full bathroom that was easily twice the size of his bedroom in Queens. A sit-stand desk was neatly placed in the corner of the room with a Starkpad, Stark Tech PC, and a 3-D printer. There were also bean bag chairs and a loveseat arranged on a soft rug in front of a flat screen TV. The entire room was themed red, white, and blue. Spider-Man's colors. His colors.

"Well, are you just going to stand there all day with your mouth open?" Tony teased. Peter snapped out of his stupor and blushed.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about it. Let's go get the rest of your bags." Tony moved to leave, but paused when Peter didn't follow.

"I don't have any more bags, Mr. Stark." Peter clutched the strap of his backpack and stared at his feet. He braced himself to be mocked or berated, but that never came.

"I'll have Happy bring by some more clothes. He has the measurements I took for your suit, so he'll be able to buy items that fit," Tony explained as he strolled over to Peter's walk-in closet and opened it.

"Until then, I did have some dress clothes fitted for you. As my assistant, you'll have to attend some meetings." Peter remained in the same spot, utterly shocked by Tony's response, but also incredibly touched.

"Mr. Stark, I—" his voice failed him for a moment," I don't know what to say." Tony approached him nonchalantly and patted Peter's shoulder.

"No need. I'll see you in 15 for dinner, okay? The rest of the gang will be there." Tony left Peter to recover from the bombshell that was just dropped.

"The gang?! I'm having dinner with THE Avengers!" Peter thought as he fell back onto his bed. His mind could barely process all the curveballs it had been thrown in the past hour.

"Peter, this is a reminder that dinner is in 5 minutes." Peter sat up at FIRDAY's message. Had he really been thinking for 10 minutes? Peter changed into on of the button-ups in the closet and looked at himself in the full-length mirror.

"Too formal," he grumbled to himself and changed his shirt again, and again, and again.

"Peter, dinner is beginning," FRIDAY announced. Peter yelped with frustration and put on a black, long sleeved shirt. It would have to do. He scampered out of his room and to the elevator.

"To the dining room, please." The AI took Peter to his chosen destination. The teen stepped out of the elevator into a bustling dining room. Plates and silverware clinked, glasses were filled, the smell of savory food and the sound of chattering filled the air. Peter surveyed the room and nearly passed out from star-struck whiplash. Clint Barton casually chatted with Natasha Ramanov while Thor Odinson loudly recited stories to Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, and James Rhodey. Steve Rodgers talked with Tony. Only one person was missing and that man happed to unwittingly sneak up on Peter.

"You must be the inter Tony was telling us about," Bruce Banner greeted. Peter's jaw dropped.

"Y-you— you're Dr. Bruce Banner. THE Dr. Banner!" The room when quiet, but Peter was too distracted to notice.

"Your work with radioactivity's effect on DNA is revolutionary! It could be the structure needed to permanently cure genetic diseases and disabilities. Not to mention how it could help find ways to reverse fallout damage from nuclear testing sites. I've read all of your publishings!" Peter exclaimed. Bruce's cheeks were tinted pink, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"You know, when most kids your age see me they're only interested in the Big Guy. I'm not really sure how to respond." It was Peter's turn to blush. Peter stared at his feet with embarrassment.

"Oh, yeah. I'm just a big fan," Peter mumbled.

"It looks like you picked the right kid, Tony," Steve spoke up. Tony smirked proudly at Peter.

"I sure did," he pulled out the chair next to him. "Come on, Pete. I saved you a seat." Peter graciously took the seat and looked around the table. Each occupied seat had an empty plate in front of it while the food was lined on serving dishes in the center of the enormous table. The group was serving themselves heaping portions of rice, steamed vegetables, chicken, beef, egg rolls, sautéed mushrooms, and egg drop soup. Bucky and Steve, the two super soldiers, had secondary, smaller plates that they added sides to. Peter was pulled back to reality by Tony nudging him.

"Go ahead and serve yourself. There's no reason to wait," Tony advised before beginning to eat his own meal. Peter made a conservative plate on instinct, only a spoonful of rice, a small portion of steamed vegetables, and a helping of beef. He began eating, but paused when Tony set down a secondary plate like Bucky and Steve had. It was loaded with rice, chicken, mushrooms, and egg rolls.

"Mr. Stark, there's really no need—" Tony cut him off.

"Everyone here knows your secret. You don't have to pretend." Tony was wrong in his assumptions as to why Peter's plate was so small, but his heart (arc reactor?) was in the right place.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark, but I'm not that hungry." Tony raised an eyebrow and gave Peter his infamous "I know you're bullshitting me, so you better 'fess up" look. Truth was, Peter wasn't hungry. Mentally, at least. He had successfully trained his brain to tell his body it didn't need nearly as much food as it did. Sure, there were physical repercussions, but it was better in Peter's mind for him to suffer than his aunt. Peter didn't realize he was being spoken to until Tony snapped his fingers in front of Peter's face.

"Hey, Earth to Parker."

"Sorry, Mr. Stark." The entire table was staring at him. Tony passed Peter a napkin. It was at that moment that Peter realized his lip was bleeding profusely. He pressed the napkin to his bottom lip with shame.

"What was that all about, kid? I ask you if you have a high metabolism and you blank out on me and tear up your lip." Tony's brow was furrowed with fatherly concern.

"Peter is probably overwhelmed. Between the sudden changes, all the new introductions, and the stimuli. Spiders have extremely high sensitivity to stimuli in comparison to humans," Bruce defended. Peter relaxed somewhat knowing that the doctor was on his side. Tony leaned back in his chair and held his hands up in surrender.

"Fine. Fine, I'll leave it be. But, we'll discuss a better coping mechanism later," Tony gestured to Peter's slightly swollen lip.

"Like you're the one to talk," Clint scoffed.

"That's enough. Back to light conversation. That's an order," Steve commanded. The tension dissipated and the dinner atmosphere soon returned.

Peter stayed to help clean up. He learned that the Avengers had a meal cooking and cleaning rotation. Tonight was Steve's night to clean. Peter washed dishes while Steve packed up what few leftovers there were.

"Tony doesn't mean to be rude. He's just pushy because he cares. He's worried about you, that's all," Steve explained.

"I understand." The kitchen was silent for a few minutes save for the sound of them working.

"Mr. Rodgers?"

"Please, call me Steve."

"Ah, right, sorry. Steve, How do you balance it? Being a hero and a normal person, I mean." Steve thought for a moment before answering Peter's question.

"Well Peter, I suppose I don't. There's no even balance between being a hero and being a man. You never know when the first half of you will need to come forward. In a way, I'm a hero first and foremost, and a man when there's time to spare."

"Oh," Peter responded quietly. Steve placed a firm, but comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You were gifted incredible talents, son. That doesn't mean you have to have to put on a mask to be a hero. There's plenty of saving that the world needs past crime." Peter nodded thoughtfully.

"Thank you, Steve."