A Merry Christmas update!

Author's Note: A series of deleted scenes from Peter's initial two and a half weeks working at Stark Industries.

Missing Chronicles of the Two and a Half Weeks

"Hey Clint, are your hea-"

"Die, die, die!"

"Urg, stop throwing bombs at me Tony! We are on the same team."

"There are no true partnerships in war, birdbrain!"

"Uh, Clint," Peter tried again. "I think you need to-"

"I am busy with a high speed chase. Come back in an hour."

"Or five. These puny buttons are made for the fingers of the smallest of rodents. I demand another challenge subsequently!"

"Quiet down Sparky, Clint and I haven't even beaten you yet."

"Silence, Man of Iron! I shall destroy your odd Jötunn avatar first, and then the Hawk's pink smiling ball will fall."

"Again, it's a blue Yoshi, Thor. A blue Yoshi and Kirby."

"Hahe! You two are so going down! Eat my pixelated dust!"

Peter slowly back out of the gaming room and away from the three grown men screaming over Tony's hacked version of Mario Cart. "I'll just come back later when stress relief time is over. I wonder if they do this after every mission." He glanced down at the small, unopened pack of batteries cradled in his hand before walking back to the elevator and pressing the ground floor button. "I guess he'll just come to me when his hearing aids start failing and he realizes he's out of backups."

The elevator pulled to a stop and the doors opened to admit another passenger going down. The two stood next to each other, Peter with tensed shoulders and the newcomer settled in an unconcerned stance.

Natasha looked down at the box in Peter's hand at his side.

"Ten says he doesn't notice by the end of the week."

Peter cocked his head and also regarded the innocent little white box. "Twenty says he notices by the end of the day."

"Ah." The number above the doors fell rapidly as they approached their destination. "Those idiots are yelling at each other over their video games, aren't they?"

"Yeah."

"Damn. Lost already."

"It looks," Peter started uncertainly, "like… a burrito. From Chipotle. It tastes like… a burrito. From Chipotle."

"You have no class."

Peter hummed around a large bite of meat and beamed at Tony. "Ima teenaega. Is natuera I hav' no clss."

"Oh, you think you're the only one who can act like that? I am the very definition of puerile." Challenge accepted, Tony picked up his own wrap and stuffed the remaining half into his mouth. Once it was all in he sent a wide grin back at Peter. "Twa-da!"

Bruce grimaced at the two and gently set his food back onto his tray. "First sandals, then chocolate, then sock monkeys, and now shawarma? Is there nothing left sacred that you cannot ruin for me?"

Tony glanced up at him from his protective crouch over his burrito remains and swallowed. "Have you ever been to Disney Land? I think the big guy would love it there."

A shadow fell over the keyboard Peter was furiously typing on, causing him to look up. As his job description entailed, he sent a small, compliant smile to the man blocking the Saturday afternoon sun streaming in through the windows and asked, "How may I help you today, Sir?"

Fury towered over the reception desk, dropped a piece of fabric onto Peter's laptop, and then set his arms on either side of it, leaning down so he was eye to eyes with Peter.

"How. Did. You. Do it."

Peter widen his eyes and momentarily wished he still wore his glasses so he could complete his innocent façade by pushing them up the bridge of his nose. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you-"

"What you did is clear enough, and I can hazard a guess as to why," the man continued, pulling back so he could pace a short rut in front of Peter's desk, "but the how… I can't figure it out."

"Ah, you may be looking for floor twelve. All acts of scheduled espionage go through there before being processed into the archives," Peter tried.

Fury paused and gave him a close look. "Was it an inside job?" He shook his head and continued his pacing. "No, I've weeded the most daring of the moles out by now."

Peter abandoned his defense and returned his attention to his work, tuning out the man before him. He did note, however, a questionable person walking in through the front doors, putting a hand in his trench coat pocket, freezing at the sight of Fury, and then slowly walking back out.

A pair of hands once more slamming down next to his computer brought Peter's irritated gaze back to Fury. "Join S.H.I.E.L.D."

"No."

"We'll pay you twice what you make here."

"No."

"Why?"

If I were to become a spy, my aunt would kill me. Because she would die from a stress-induced stroke, and that would kill me. "Your laundry."

Fury slowly straightened himself out. "I will have you in my organization. Eventually."

With that, he retrieved the stained-pink eyepatch with a small heart and PP written in sharpie on the center and departed.

"I could never be an agent," Peter grinned to himself. "I enjoy signing my work too much. I still can't believe he has an entire drawers full of black eyepatches..."

Merry Christmas!

"It's not Christmas, Viral. Come on… load, load."

Happy Hanukah!

"This is not the Holiday Season, I'm not Jewish, and I'm fairly sure you aren't either. Now hurry up, I need to make the changes to Tony's schedule before his flight leaves!"

And have a joyous Kwanzaa!

"What are you doing?"

Breaking the fourth wall, big brother. Someone had to do it. Happy Holidays!

Peter leaned back in his chair with his discombobulated phone in hand and stared at the blank screen of his laptop, which he was sure had something to do with Viral's sudden bout of cheer. Tony's flight left at six thirty. Peter glanced at the clock. Six twenty-seven.

"I could run up to Human Resources and use one of their computers, but… I'm sure Miami, New Mexico is just as good as Miami, Florida this time of year. Merry Christmas, Viral."

:D 3