"Coming up to lunch?" Bruce asked Peter as he walked past the intern's desk. Peter was hunched over his keyboard, staring into the dark abyss of the computer screen, typing furiously, and so did not immediately answer. When Bruce cleared his throat and repeated his question Peter finally pulled himself away from his work.

"Hmmm? Oh, uh…" his hand raised subconsciously to rub at his cheek but he caught the movement and forced himself to squeeze his knee under the table instead. He gave a half-hearted grin to the good doctor and continued, "I think I'm going to have to beg off today. I have some extra work that I really want to get done.

Bruce frowned. "Are you sure?"

Peter nodded emphatically, "Yeah. Really sorry about it but I need to finish this up first." He pointed to the screen but shifted his body to block it in the same movement. "You go ahead, and give everyone my condolences. I'll text Wade."

Peter patted at the pocket that held his phone.

"I don't think any of us would mind waiting. Come up! A growing boy needs his nutrients."

The joke fell flat and Peter smiled softly at Bruce. "Really, go on without me. I'm good."

Bruce's brows furrowed, but he gave a short nod and walked out of the lab, leaving Peter to himself. Tony had been away all day on SI business so it had just been Peter and Bruce in the room, but even so it had been slightly awkward. Peter couldn't help thinking about the fight the previous day and how everything had suddenly gone all topsy-turvy. Clint and Thor's unfortunate "accidents," the Hulk's sudden bout of spiderly appreciation, and Natasha's insistence on a heart to heart had all left Peter reeling and even a day later he couldn't make heads nor tails of any of it. Maybe he wanted some time to think everything through before he faced the Avengers.

And maybe he had been thinking about it so much that morning that he hadn't gotten enough work done and he was lagging behind, so lunch would actually have to be given up in order to do the work he'd been too preoccupied to worry about earlier.

And besides that, the foundation Wade (Mr. "While we're at it, might as well add a dusting of blush and a smidge of eye shadow, and why not some eyeliner too? Heck, Petey-poo, let's crack out the lipstick too! I haven't seen you in number 17 Ravish Me Red, and I think it would just look fabulous on—no! Peter! No, Pete, put the curling iron down! Peter! I was joking, Baby, I swear! Ahhhhhhh! No don't tickle me! AHHHHHH!") had smeared on him that morning felt weird on his face and he itched to scrub it off. He kept having to stop himself from touching it too. He was usually bad about leaving bruises alone (he liked to poke them hard enough to cause a white circle where his finger had been, and then watch the darkness seep back in when he backed off), but with the cool dry of the makeup over top of it, it was taking everything he had in him to stop himself from poking at it throughout the day. Distracted by the Avengers, he would not be able to do it.

Long story short, Peter was skipping lunch because he couldn't keep his dratted head in the game (Go Wildcats!).

Peter pushed himself back from his computer only to spin slightly to the left, align his eye with the electron microscope chilling out, and examine the angiosperm lying there.

And this was what he had to deal with when Tony was gone! Flowers under his microscope! Yeah, biology was interesting, but did Bruce have to—

Peter's internal mini-rant was cut short when Clint walked through the glass doors and up to Peter's desk.

"Ready for lunch? I hear that Cap is bringing dessert. My god, you would not imagine the apple pie that man can make," Clint made a noise that was fairly sexual, "you can't miss it."

Peter shook his head. "Not today, Clint. I have some work to do."

There was a moment of silence as Clint tried to process this. "But Peter, man, Cap is making pie. Pie! Serious, honest to god, American Apple Pie! Captain America is making apple pie. There is literally nothing more patriotic."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Steve took me to a baseball game once. That was pretty American, though we had to wear disguises." Peter blinked. "But that's all beside the point. As much as I'd love to chow down on pie created by our great nation, I do have work to do." He gestured at the computer and the microscope.

Clint put on his pouty face, which usually made Peter reconsider, but on this Peter was firm. "I'm serious, Clint. Work is work. If I don't work I don't get paid, if I don't get paid I don't eat, and if I don't eat then how will I come to work to see all your pretty faces when I'm dying of starvation?"

Clint rolled his eyes and let out a huff. "Fine! But I'm not promising any leftovers." Clint threw his hand forward to clap Peter on the shoulder, as he had done dozens of times before, only this time Peter's brain crossed some wires that shouldn't have been crossed, connected the arrows flying towards Spidey to Clint's friendly pat and Peter automatically flinched away. He caught himself just before he did anything stupid, like swing a web at Clint's face, or jump onto the ceiling (there have been incidents), but it was still enough to cause the smile on Clint's face to drop entirely and for a frown to take its place.

A small vindictive corner of Peter's mind snickered over Clint finally feeling guilty over being such a jerk, but the more logical portion of Peter's mind sighed in regret, because he wasn't really scared of Clint. Clint was Peter's friend, even if he wasn't always Spiderman's biggest fan, and he certainly didn't want Clint overanalyzing a little ol' flinch.

"What—?" Clint started to ask, but Peter cut him off.

"Really got lots of work to do. Lots and lots. I will see you later, alright? Maybe I'll even swing by" (another cringe) "when I'm done to see if I can snag some all-American pie. Ok?" And Peter practically shoved the man out of his room. With a relieved sigh that he had dodged that bullet, he sat back down at his desk and went for another peak at the angiosperm.

Peter was about three paragraphs and a bar graph past pulling his hair out when "My Humps, My Humps, My Lovely Lady Lumps" began pouring from Peter's pocket (Wade had changed it a few weeks before with the explanation that lovely lady lumps should be celebrated, even when they were on non-ladies like Peter and himself, and when they weren't very lumpy) and he smacked his hand against his head. He'd forgotten to call Wade. Damn.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket swiped it to answer and had it against his ear with an apology on his tongue when he was rudely interrupted by his own fiancé saying, "Jesus, Pete, I'm sorry. Solo mission was a little rough this morning and it carried over."

Peter blinked. "Wait, what are you sorry for?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Wade's voice said, "For missing lunch? And I forgot to call too! I hope you weren't worried for me. I mean, I'm sure one of the guys told you where I was…"

Peter snorted. "No need to apologize, I did the same thing."

"You went on a solo mission that hit the fan so hard you might as well just paint the whole room brown 'cause that stain ain't coming out?"

"Ah, no, and you are definitely going to tell me what happened tonight, but I actually meant that I begged off lunch today too. I meant to call you so you wouldn't worry when I didn't show up, but I got engrossed in trying to keep my eyes from bleeding."

"How's that working out for you?"

Peter dabbed at the corners of his eyes for dramatic effect, despite having no audience. "Meh… Could be worse."

"Well, Petey, don't forget to actually grab something to eat. You know I don't mind carrying you home in my arms, but if I had to do it because you passed out from no noms I might actually regret having to carry you home, and then it would taint it for me! And then next time I picked you up I'd just think about that time you almost died because you refused to take a lunch break. You are the true hero! Giving up nourishment in order to do—" he gasped dramatically, "—WORK!"

Peter rolled his eyes, but agreed. His stomach had been growling for a while now, and pie did sound really nice right now (and then he'd be able to taste actual proof that Cap had stolen that apple pie recipe from the Nazis and had passed it down his family tree all the way to Aunt May, thus proving that Cap was actually Peter's long lost great-great-great-something Uncle. How cool would that be?

(Not going to happen, but a boy could dream about being distantly related to a WWII superhero who had the American flag plastered in spandex on his body, couldn't he?)

"Peter? Still there, pumpkin-head?"

"Hmm?" Peter blinked and forced himself back into the present. "Is that in insult?"

"It's an endearment, dear-heart."

Peter shook his head and began tidying up his workstation. "No, Pumpkin is an endearment, pumpkin-head is like an insult from alternate-universe Hey Arnold."

"Been there, done that."

Peter unplugged the microscope and turned off his computer after saving his work. "Well, Wade, my darling, as much as I'd love to debate appropriate pet names, I'm afraid that too will have to wait for later. I'm off to steal some Pie from Captain America."

Wade cooed into the phone. "Aww, my wittle baby is all grown up. Already stealing from a national hero. I'm so proud!"

"Wait, Wade, are you close by? I wouldn't mind playing hookie if you wanted to grab a quick bite." Peter played with a loose thread in the hem of his shirt.

Wade sighed dramatically. "So sorry, bumpkin (is that better?) but I'm still a few hours from the New York, New York."

Peter nodded to the empty room. "Oh well, see you for dinner?"

Wade hummed his agreement.

"Well then," Peter continued, "see you then?"

"Sure thing, sugar-pie," Wade said, made an absolutely sloppy-sounding kissy noise, and hung up.

Peter stared at his phone for a moment before sticking it back in his pocket. He could do this. Just a normal day at the office. All he had to do was go upstairs, get a slice of pie, exchange greetings with friends/enemies, and come back here to determine if the mutation in the plant matter was caused from ecological differences changing the plant's habitat or an entirely different outside force entirely.

Pete shook his head. He was being silly.

He forced himself to walk to the elevator casually, and stepped inside without a second thought.

Inside he was screaming.

(About ten floors from the Avengers common area he chickened out and decided to swing by the cafeteria instead.)