It wasn't every day that she took down eight guys handling alien weaponry.

Well, she only suspected that it was alien. Guns weren't exactly her specialty, but she had a feeling that guns weren't meant to glow and hum with violet light.

Thank God none of them actually seemed to know how to use it – which led Piper to suspect that they'd either stolen it or bought it off someone else.

Piper actually felt quite proud of herself as she hastily scrawled a note for the NYPD.

Please handle with care! They have feelings too.

Best,

Your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman

That left Piper with eight goons stuck to the walls of an old school sandwich shop and a bag of probably stolen, seriously dangerous goods. Ten blocks away, perched on top of a high-quality sneaker store that always gave her serious shoe envy, Piper considered what to do with them.

She could take them home – but then, if Aunt May happened to be cleaning her room and accidentally found them, she would freak. It was easier to hide a superhero costume (usually by wearing it under her casual clothes) than it would be to hide a pretty sizeable bag of scary, distinctly un-safe looking weapons.

Which was a shame, because, in all honestly, she'd like to check them out.

She dialed Happy Hogan's phone number, thinking hard about what to say that wouldn't make her sound like a little kid.

"Hello?" Happy did not sound happy.

"Hi – I mean, hello," Piper cleared her throat. "It is Piper Parker speaking –"

"Yeah, I saw the phone ID. What's up?"

"Right," Piper said, trying to sound unfazed. "Well, I've just been rounding up some real –" What was a distinctly grown-up word? "Some real rapscallions and –"

"Some what?"

Jesus, kill me now. "They were trying to rob What A Pickle," Piper said bluntly, "uh, eight guys, and they were holding some seriously decked out –"

"Okay, so you stopped a robbery," Happy said, sounding bored, "that's great, kid, but I –"

Kid? Piper bit her lip.

Somebody else seemed to speaking in the background.

"It's Parker," Happy responded, and Piper pulled the phone away from her ear to actually give it a look.

"Happy," she said firmly. "This is important –"

"Just a bank robbery," Happy was relaying to somebody who was obviously more important than she was. "Eight. Something about – what was it again, kid?"

"Weapons of mass destruction," Piper said dully.

"She's fine, Tony –" Happy said, sounding like he was struggling and Piper's stomach jerked, her pulse quickened, "you don't have to –"

And suddenly Tony Stark was on the phone.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Stark demanded.

"Yeah," Piper said, taken aback.

"Then just what do you think you mean by 'weapons of mass destruction'?"

"It was a – look, they were handling – something of a seriously high caliber –"

"And what, you saw these guys toting around weapons of a seriously high caliber and thought, hey, how about I, a person with little to no weaponry, take them on by myself?"

Piper frowned. This was not the way she'd expected Mr. Stark to handle this. She thought – or rather hoped – that he'd be pleasantly surprised. "Well, I'm fine, they're all tied up, the police are on their way – and I have the stuff they were using, or trying to use –"

"Where are you?" Mr. Stark interrupted.

Piper told him her location.

"Stay there, I'm sending Mark Forty-Seven," Mr. Stark said stiffly.

"I'm fine," Piper protested, though she was very touched.

"To pick up your stolen goods," he admonished, and Piper felt the warm feeling in her stomach swiftly evaporate.

"Okay," she said uncertainly, trying to be as cool and collected as she could, because it would be childish to throw a tantrum, "well, I'll just be here, I guess, so –"

"Yep, bye." Mr. Stark hung up.

"You're welcome," Piper said lamely, letting her head hang. Good job, Parker, she thought flatly.

Someone knocked on her bedroom door.

Piper hastily erased her browsing history before snapping her laptop shut. "Just a second, Aunt May –"

The door opened a crack and Gwen poked her head in. "Surprise! Your aunt said you were sad so I'm here."

"Oh my God, Aunt May –"

"Ta-da, hot cocoa!" Aunt May said vibrantly, sashaying into Piper's bedroom with Gwen, holding two mugs that were liberally topped with whipped cream, marshmallows and what looked like crumbled graham crackers.

Piper squirmed as her aunt set the mugs down on her bedside table (right on top of the notebook she regularly scrawled ideas for web fluid formula into), unsure of whether to feel mortified or gratified. "Aunt May…"

"I know, I know," May said, holding her hands up. "I'm leaving. You and Gwen can talk about whatever it is that's going on – I'm probably not cool enough to get it," she added knowingly to Gwen, who smiled easily. Gwen was much better at hiding the whole Spider-Woman wrinkle than Piper was.

When Aunt May closed the door, Gwen stopped smiling, spinning towards Piper with a worried look straining her features. "Is everything okay?" she asked, slipping onto the bed. "Is it work?"

Piper snorted. "The Bugle does not hassle me – I mean, it hassles me but they don't know that that's me –"

"No, your other work," Gwen said and Piper was almost a little disgruntled to see the concern in her friend's face. Great. Another person who thinks I can't hero right now.

"I saw the news – and then your aunt was saying you seemed kinda out of it. I just wanted to check if you're okay."

Piper smiled absently. At least Gwen actually cared about her wellbeing. Unlike some people. "I'm fine. Pretty much got off scot-free." She picked up a mug from her bedside table, sidled it off to Gwen. "And I got cocoa. I don't know how this could get better."

Gwen shot her an are you sure about that look before opening her handbag. Her nice, adult-looking handbag. Piper glanced at her own backpack, lying crumpled on the floor.

"Boom." Gwen tossed a white paper bag into Piper's lap. "Cheesy pretzels. Bow in the presence of greatness."

Piper gave a loud fake gasp. "There is seriously no one in this universe that I love more than you."

Gwen smiled goofily. "Not even Scott Lang?"

Piper took a bite of pretzel, and her stomach flipped. A hungry flip? Because of Scott? No. No, it was… they had been eating these that night she'd stayed late. And…

"Hey, um, can I ask you about something?"

"Is it about a certain member of the Avengers whose 'nice smile' you talked about for nearly twenty minutes?"

"I meant, like," Piper shrugged nonchalantly, "from an orthodontic point of view."

"Oh, purely from an orthodontic point of view," Gwen agreed sarcastically.

"No, it's… it's about Mister Stark."

"He still telling you to cool it?" Gwen frowned.

"No – I mean, yeah, but – so the other week, I stayed back at the Tower, and it was just me and him, and um…"

Gwen stopped chewing. Her eyebrows rose pointedly. "Oh." She swallowed.

Piper saw where her friend's mind had travelled to, and she pulled a face. "Jesus. Not like that."

Gwen's cheeks went a little pink. "I wasn't –"

"It was totally harmless. I just… we were just working, yeah? I mean, it wasn't weird… I mean, I think it wasn't. That's why I'm asking –"

"Piper –"

"I ended up on his lap."

"You…" Gwen cocked her head, her eyes narrowed as though she wasn't entirely sure what Piper was saying. "You ended up –"

"It was an accident," Piper said firmly.

"You… accidentally ended up on his lap –"

"Yeah." Piper shrugged, desperately trying for nonchalant.

Gwen stared at her. "How?"

Piper could practically feel the heat emanating from her face. "I was looking at a screen – I – I didn't realize he'd occupied the chair until I sat in it –"

Gwen covered her mouth with her hand; not because she was shocked, Piper saw, but because she was trying to hide her smile.

"It's not funny."

Gwen nodded as if in agreement, but her shoulders were shaking traitorously with silent laughter.

Piper tried to frown, and ended up smiling begrudgingly. Gwen cleared her throat, wiped her eyes and took a sip of her cocoa. "I'm sorry," she said jerkily, her cheeks quivering as though she was struggling to keep a straight face. "You accidentally sat on Tony Stark. Please continue."

"It's really not even that big of a deal."

"So why'd you bring it up?"

Because, Piper wanted to say. Because for a second, one stupidly embarrassing second before she had jumped to her feet and babbled through an apology, she'd felt his hands ghost over her hips, felt his breath on her ear as he'd said, "Whoa, occupied." Because even though he'd laughed it off, despite how weirdly mortified she was, he'd been… quieter. Because he'd been a little distant, a little callous ever since. So it had to be something she had done – but how –?

"I don't know," Piper shrugged. "I just… Mister Stark –"

"Why don't you ever call him Tony?" Gwen asked, scrunching her nose up.

Because I like boundaries. "He never asked me to," Piper said vaguely. Which was true.

Gwen opened her mouth, about to say something else that Piper was suddenly sure she didn't want to hear, when Aunt May knocked on the door. "Do you guys want some ice-cream? Mister Giordano accidentally gave me a tub of Häagen-Dazs along with the groceries."

"Again," Piper said brightly to Gwen, who grinned. Aunt May, Piper thought fondly. So clueless.

Tony finally decided he needed something more to distract himself. It wasn't unheard of for the Avengers to meet up purely to have a good time, right?

He invited as many people as he could fit in the penthouse suite of Stark Tower (with the exception of one particular person), and to be perfectly honest, it was pretty sweet. Clint had even brought his kids along, and it wasn't bugging him. Everything seemed to be going pretty well, he thought to himself as he poured himself his first drink of the evening (over an hour in and he didn't even need one), when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of her, tawny hair tucked over one pale, freckle-spattered shoulder.

His stomach dropped. Whaaat?

What in the hell was Piper Parker doing here?

She was chatting with Rogers, and Tony suddenly wished he'd invited that agent that Steve vaguely admitted to thinking was pretty, Shannon, no, Sharon, something like that – oh thank God, Lang had said he was busy –

"So," Bruce said, who was standing behind the bar, having self-appointed himself as barman (probably because no one in their right mind would tell the Hulk that no, they could have another drink). "Piper, huh?"

Tony kept his face expressionless. "Hm? I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Bruce looked at him, smiling ever so slightly. "You know what I'm talking about."

"You mean the fact that she's gatecrashing?" Tony asked, cocking a brow. "Yeah, no, I was just about to ask about –"

"She's not gatecrashing," Bruce said easily.

"Well, I didn't invite her –"

"I know," Bruce said amiably, pouring Tony another drink. "I did."

"You?" Tony blanched. Oh God. Not Bruce too."Why did you –?"

"Because you didn't," Bruce said evenly, fixing Tony with such a stare that he looked away… back to Piper, who was still talking to Steve… heroic, seven foot tall, all around good-guy Steve…

"I think she's been feeling kinda left out," Bruce said quietly, sliding the vodka tonic in Tony's direction. "She never really knows what's happening, mission-wise… or hang-out wise…"

"You don't say," Tony said idly, silently fuming as he watched Steve laugh and put his hand on Piper's shoulder. The man was literally a human puppy dog! What woman could resist it?

"Are you just gonna stand there staring at her, or are we gonna talk about this?" Bruce queried and Tony turned back to him, ignoring the urge to push Steve out of a window, he'd survive it anyway –

"What's there to talk about?" he said casually, and for a second he almost believed that there was nothing to say.

Except Bruce had that no nonsense look on his face.

Except he could hear Piper laughing and it made his pulse quicken.

Except.

"She shouldn't be here," Tony muttered.

"You're right. She's a total buzz kill. Look at how much pain she's inflicting on everyone around her." Bruce pointed at Piper, who was now talking animatedly to Sam as well as Steve. No, no, no.

"I mean – she's better than this," Tony said, looking firmly at his glass. "She's smart – could be whirling through M.I.T. right now if she wanted."

Bruce didn't say anything: he simply waited. Tony rolled his eyes, deciding to just barrel through; anything to wipe that knowing smile off Banner's face.

"What do you want me to say?" he snapped, draining his glass.

"How long have you had feelings for her?"

Tony choked. "Have feelings for –? I don't – that's not what – I need another drink –"

He made a half-hearted swipe for the vodka bottle, but Bruce nimbly pulled it back out of his reach.

"Well," Bruce said, his eyebrows sitting high on his forehead. "You really like her."

Jesus, dude, a little louder.

"Well, what's stopping you from doing something about it?"

Tony stared at him. "Uh, hi, have we met?" He gestured to himself.

"Yeah, you're Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist," Bruce said dryly. "Pretty sure that speaks for itself."

He could have just left it there. He could have said, Sure, okay, and then Bruce would've left him alone and he could go back to quietly seething.

But…

"She's so… I'm…" I've been spat out of a wormhole, I've had old friends turn on me at the drop of a hat, and I'm constantly terrified everyone I know is going to end up dead. So yeah, I'm kinda fucked up to the power of ten, and she probably doesn't need that.

But it wasn't just that… How on earth could he casually explain that he felt like a dirty old man?

Start small.

"Have you heard the way she talks to me?" Tony said, a little desperately. "It's – it's like I'm her friend's dad or something –"

"What're you talking about?" Bruce grinned, pulling the vodka out of Tony's reach again.

"She calls me Mister Stark," Tony pulled a face. "You don't call the guy you wanna bang Mister Stark, you call that guy's father Mister Stark."

"Did you just use bang in a non-ironic manner?"

"Could you maybe not kick me when I'm down?"

"Well, how do you talk to her?" Bruce said slyly.

Tony frowned.

"Let's think," Bruce said. "Lately, you talk to her like a kid who's done something wrong. You completely leave her out of missions –"

"I don't want her to get hurt," Tony said dully. The thought of something happening to her… his chest grew tight, lungs constricted.

"Or you ignore her," Bruce finished. "You're kind of being a dick."

"Is this meant to be helpful?" Tony said irritably.

"Tony," Bruce said gently, "it sounds like you've made the decision to screw yourself over without really asking Piper."

"Quick question," Tony said, "just when did you appoint yourself as my therapist?"

"Like three years ago. You bring it on yourself," Bruce said. "Look – how about instead of glaring at her or sulking or moping, you just – be nice to her? Might make some headway."

Tony smiled mirthlessly. "Have you not noticed, or have you just forgotten that she's got the world's biggest crush on Scott Lang?"

"Well, now you know that she's not concerned about the age difference," Bruce said amiably and Tony blinked. He hadn't thought about it that way. His stomach jumped optimistically but he dismissed it, refusing to get his hopes up.

"But she's –"

"Walking this way," Bruce said in a low voice.

"Five hundred bucks she calls me Mister Stark," Tony said, rolling his eyes.

Talk to him. That's what Gwen had said. If it's really bothering you, just talk to him about it.

Five hundred bucks he doesn't even look at me, she thought sourly. Or calls me kid. Although her t-shirt did have a Vitruvian pizza on it (but at least it was clean. She'd spilled marinara sauce all over the blouse she'd had on earlier today. Oh God, she was a kid). At least Bruce was there.

"Bruce," Piper said brightly, making her way up to the bar. "Thanks so much for the invite – oh, hey Mister Stark," she added, seeing the man himself turn around. Rather than say hello, Mr. Stark gave Bruce a meaningful look.

Oh, God, it's the shirt. She knew it. They would call her kid any second now –

"Hey, not a problem," Bruce said, easily smoothing over the moment. "Tony and I were just talking about those weapons you sent us. Pretty good job, taking out eight guys by yourself. Wasn't it, Tony?" he added pointedly.

"Subtle," Mr. Stark muttered.

"It's nothing," Piper said, mortified. "You guys could do it any day of the week –"

"Well, nowadays, Tony's got a lot of toys that he prefers to use instead of himself," Bruce said lightly, with another pointed look at Mr. Stark, "which is why he should probably thank –"

"Thank you," Mr. Stark said, finally looking at her.

Piper blinked, swallowing. Her palms felt sweaty. "Um. That's okay."

"It's just that Tony gets worried sometime," Mr. Stark added, with a withering look at Bruce. "Unlike some people, Tony has lots of titanium alloy to protect himself."

Piper bit her lip, frowning. She saw Mr. Stark cast a furtive glance in her direction before quickly busying himself with pouring another drink.

"Oh, like a normal person," Bruce said, still sounding so easygoing. Piper was just wondering whether she could excuse herself from whatever the flippin' heck was going on when Bruce asked, "How's your Aunt May, Piper?"

"She's goo –"

"Yeah, how does your Aunt May feel about this?" Mr. Stark asked, cocking a brow at her.

"Well – obviously – she doesn't know," Piper said, still confused. She looked to Bruce, wondering what she'd done wrong.

"Right," Mr. Stark said. "I mean, she would probably think it would be really dangerous, you running around, fighting crime. She'd probably be worried that you were gonna hurt yourself."

Bruce cleared his throat.

"I'm just saying," Mr. Stark said, shrugging defensively.

Piper's stomach sank. Here it was, proof again that Tony Stark didn't think she had what it took!

She shouldn't have come to this party. She should be out on the streets, searching for people to save!

She quickly spouted something about having to help Gwen with a project for Dr. Connors and a hasty goodbye before turning to leave, so deep in thought that she didn't even hear Bruce say, "Jesus, Tony, do you have a non-self destruct mode?"

Exhausted, Piper crawled into bed at three in the morning. She'd spent seven hours just doing the regular ol' day in, day out crime fighting – stopping car thieves, guys trying to jack 7-Eleven's, even a guy who stole an old lady's handbag – like, who even did that anymore?

And then – out of the goddamn blue – she ran into three more guys brandishing the same kind of weaponry she'd sent off to Mr. Stark! They had managed to get away from her (unfortunately, these guys seemed to know how to work it), but she'd succeeded in grabbing one of their weird alien weapons. She had to make sure to show Gwen later.

And after all that, she'd sent photos off to the Daily Bugle.

Even as she was lying in bed, so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, thinking about Mr. Stark made her want to hide her face under her pillow. He'd looked so disappointed with her earlier… he'd barely been able to look her in the eyes… which was a shame, Piper thought sleepily, because, in all seriousness, Mr. Stark had very nice eyes… and incredibly long eyelashes…

For some reason, thinking about that made her stomach jump around – nervous, which made absolutely no sense at all.

She chose to think about Scott instead as she drifted off to sleep.