"Tell me where," Piper said coolly as the young man struggled, hanging upside down over the edge of an apartment building that may or may not have just so happened to be Gwen's.

"You're nuts!" he was yelling as Piper crawled alongside next to him, just out of reach of his swinging limbs. "Oh God oh God you have to be kidding me –"

"Tell me where you got them from!" Piper demanded.

"He'll kill me!"

"And I won't?" Piper asked, hoping her voice sounded menacing. She really hoped she was selling this. She could never kill this guy. God, could she kill anyone? No way in hell!

"Only," she continued, "with my way, see, it's a long way down. You should probably stop swinging around so much," she added, raising her voice, "or the webbing might break."

Again, there was no way in hell it would break.

But immediately the young man froze, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't tell you who I got them from," he said hastily. "But I can tell you where his next deal will be."

"Oh, really?" Piper asked sarcastically. "That is – wow, that is so convenient. I'm gonna drop you now."

"No, no! I'm serious!" the man yelped. "Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph –"

"Where?" Piper growled. She didn't feel particularly great about doing this, but she needed something. Honestly, after this, she was going to buy this guy a sandwich.

The guy rattled off an address, a date and a time, his eyes still squeezed shut. She nodded, satisfied, and tugged him up over the edge, onto solid, safe ground.

The dude collapsed, practically kissing the rooftop.

"Look," Piper said, kneeling down next to him. "You're not a bad guy, but you shouldn't be getting mixed up with these dudes. You know the kind of stuff they're carrying?"

"Oh God I won't ever see them again," the young man promised, "oh shit, I swear, never again, just please don't hurt me –"

"No, dude, just – watch out for yourself." She cleared her throat. "Sorry about that. Hanging you off the edge."

"Don't mention it," he said, shaking his head wildly. "It's – it's fine."

His eyes, she noticed, were almost the exact same shade as Mr. Stark's. Gritting her teeth together, she got to her feet, ignoring the lump in her throat as she pulled out a ten-dollar bill from her backpack. "Hey," she said, running back to the guy who was trying to stagger to his feet. "Here, look, grab yourself a sandwich, or a donut –"

He didn't take the money. He just ran to the rooftop door that Piper had left propped open, propelling himself out of sight as he screamed for help.

Piper sighed, hanging her head. Time to go, she thought, swinging over the edge and climbing down to Gwen's open window.

"I just can't believe him, y'know?" Piper said, frowning down at the glass of wine Gwen had poured her. They were already onto their second bottle. "I don't even know why it bothers me so much. I – I try so hard to be what I think he wants me to be…" She rolled her eyes. "It's so stupid. I don't even care."

"Okay," Gwen said, watching her carefully from the other side of her kitchen table.

"I don't," Piper emphasized. She picked at her food. Gwen had made them chicken and mushroom risotto for dinner, and had pulled out a bottle of fruity white wine when Piper said she'd needed to talk.

"Yeah," Gwen nodded affably. "Yeah, who cares what Tony Stark thinks?"

Piper stared moodily at her wine glass, putting her chin in her hand as she rested her elbow on Gwen's kitchen table. "I don't. Like, at all."

"Cool," Gwen said. "So. I'm going to go out on a limb here. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong."

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Hit it."

Gwen wiggled her brows. "You like him."

"What? No! No, I'm… I like Scott remember?" Piper rolled her eyes. "Duh."

"You need more wine," Gwen said wisely, pouring more into Piper's glass. Piper snickered.

"It's not like that. At all. I like Scott. He's nice. And cute."

"And in a relationship," Gwen said brightly.

"So what? The heart wants what it wants," Piper said grandly, swilling the wine around in her glass and taking a huge sip. "You know," she said, making her tone even grander by attempting a British accent, "I do think I detect a hint of oak in this pinot noir."

"This is, in fact, a five dollar Riesling, Mary Poppins," Gwen said, giggling. Piper wished she had a voice like Gwen's; it was so husky. She just sounded sexy all the time.

"I wanna sound like you," Piper heard herself whine. "You have the best voice."

"No, you have the best voice," Gwen said enthusiastically, "And you're a superhero! Pew, pew!" She pretended to fire webs from her wrists. "I fight crime! Pew, pew!"

Piper laughed so hard she nearly fell off her stool.

"So, tell me why you like Tony Stark," Gwen said sweetly, batting her eyelids.

"No reason because I don't," Piper said firmly, ignoring the way her stomach flipped as she remembered the feeling of his hand on her own, the way his arm had wrapped around her waist and tugged her snugly against him, the way he'd laughed when she'd told him that he smelled nice… the way he had cropped up in her dreams, all warm skin and gentle kisses…

"Yeah." Gwen made a face.

Piper made a face right back. "No. He's… attractive enough physically, I guess, sure, but he's behaving like… such an asshole."

"He is behaving like such an asshole," Gwen agreed vehemently. "He's being the actual worst." She took another big sip of wine. "So why do you like him?"

"I don't," Piper said, offended, affronted, you name it. She stabbed viciously at a piece of chicken with her fork. "He's the worst. Like, can you believe he just freaking stopped talking to me when Harry found me? Like, just clammed up. Wouldn't even look at me – and just stormed off – and then later – it doesn't even matter," she sighed.

"Okay," Gwen said, reaching over and taking her plate away. "What did you say he did at that benefit? Bought you a drink –"

"He didn't buy me a drink," Piper corrected, mortified. "I got drunk off a glass of champagne." She helped clear the table, taking the cutlery to the sink. The wine glasses, however, stayed.

"Okay, he looked after you, told you to call him Tony," Gwen stressed his name and clasped her hands together as if she were swooning. "Then, he tells you how great you look, and how sorry he is, and how he doesn't want you to go." Gwen raised her eyebrows pointedly.

"You're kinda twisting it a little – he never actually got around to apologizing –"

"And then," Gwen stressed, "he looked at you with his big coffee coloured eyes and his long eyelashes –"

"Yeah, and then Harry showed up, and I'm just as confused now as I was when it happened," Piper said, staring at her best friend. "Was that meant to clear things up?"

Gwen covered her mouth with her hand, clearing her throat.

Piper stared at Gwen, narrowing her eyes. "What's up?"

"What?" Gwen said, looking like she was trying not to laugh.

"What am I missing here?"

Gwen grinned. "You don't think he's jealous?"

Piper rolled her eyes. "Jealous of what? My ability to get drunk off a glass of champagne? I told you, I hadn't eaten, that's why I –"

"No. Harry."

It suddenly clicked when Gwen was saying and Piper spat out her wine. "Tony Stark? No, I don't think he's jealous! Because – because he could have any girl he wanted ready to rip his pants off if he so much as smiled at them –"

"Uh-huh," Gwen said. "Except you. Because you're as oblivious as… a person… who is a oblivious."

"No," Piper shook her head. "No, he's…" Her heart sank. "He definitely – no. You should've heard him, Gwen. He pretty much said I was –" Useless. "I…"

She broke off. "I wanna talk about how much I love Scott," she said firmly.

It had been three days and he still hadn't called her.

He'd picked up his phone hundreds of times, maybe thousands. He'd stared at her contact number, the one she'd typed in herself all those months ago – she'd put one of those sideways smiley faces next to her name. Not even the emoticon. Just a colon and a single parenthesis mark – thumb hovering above the dial button, thinking of some very heartfelt apologies and some maybe more casual, more Tony Stark style ones.

And hundreds of times, maybe thousands, he'd put the phone down.

What if she didn't pick up? Or what if she picked up and told him to fuck off? Because that would be a very valid response.

Useless, he thought and winced. A waiter (who must have gone really out of her way to find him) offered him a champagne and for a second he thought about downing the glass in one go. Then he declined.

"Can I get a photo with you?" she blurted.

He took a photo with her.

His phone buzzed and he checked it hopefully. It was from Pepper. Did you make it to charity event?

Rolling his eyes, he typed back, sí, thank u for ur faith.

He had called Pepper and apologized. Why couldn't he call –?

He had a speech in fifteen minutes. He should be focusing on that. That was why he was pacing around in one of the white, shabby hallways behind the stage, away from the party, from –

His phone buzzed again. It was from Bruce. There's something that looks like a speech on the couch.

Oops.

God, dude, just do it.

He checked his watch, picked up the phone and called her before he could think of not doing it. He waited, his mouth dry, his heart beating too fast as he paced. It was still ringing. It had been ringing for a long time. She wasn't picking up. She was just going to ignore him, which was understandable, considering he'd been a grade A jackass and –

"Hello?" Her tone was quiet. Tony took that for irritation. Nevertheless, his heart seemed to stutter back to life.

"Uh, hi," he said, covering his eyes with his free hand as though he couldn't bare to see where this would go, "it's me. I mean, it's Tony, if you didn't –"

"Yeah," Piper said hastily, still quiet, "I saw the caller ID. What's up?"

"Well, I – I wanted to just ask you how – if you were – uh –"

"Mister Stark, I'm actually kinda busy here," Piper muttered and his heart sank. Just hang up. Just hang up the phone.

But instead he started rambling.

"That's fine, I get it, because honestly, I'd be pissed at me too – and maybe the stuff I was – maybe the way I was – you know what? I was an asshole."

"What?" Piper sounded shocked. "No – I mean, you – you were, sorry, but I'm actually busy, I wasn't saying that because –"

"Everything I was saying the other night," Tony ploughed on, "was just – I was angry and I – sometimes I get – concerned? Is that…? That's a perfectly normal… yeah? No, what I mean is – wow I'm really wishing I had made, like, dot-points or cards so this didn't sound so –"

"Mister Stark," Piper said quickly, "I have to go but really it's not because I'm angry with oh God oh shit."

"What?" Tony asked, so confused that he stopped pacing.

"What?" Piper said doggedly. "Oh nothing. I just have to ooooohhhh crap crap –"

Tony became aware of the noise in the background; raised voices, and – God help me, are those bullets –?

"Piper," Tony began, furrowing his brow, "where are you?"

"Huh? Me? I'm – just in my room," Piper said blithely but he was absolutely not buying it. "Watching an action movie. What's that, Aunt May? Hang the laundry? Yep, sure! Oookay Mister Stark gotta go, everything's fine –"

"Do not hang up on m–" But the line was dead. Tony stared at his phone, frozen, when a harried looking man in a blue suit approached him.

"Mister Stark? You're up in five."

So this may have been a bad idea.

Piper ducked behind a tin remnant of the train station's roof, and a few screams rent the air at the sound of bullets and –

There was another sound, something powerful – it sounds like one of those old school ray gun effects, Piper thought wildly, if it was up close and personal and actually able to kill you – and a blast as more of the station exploded to bits. So far, it looked the deal had not gone well – and that whoever was wielding these Chitauri-based weapons of mass destruction actually knew how to use them.

Get the people to safety, Piper thought, pulling her mask on before tugging off her jumper and kicking off her jeans. Thank God that's off. I have become Sweat Central with the suit on underneath.

She scanned her end of the station for people to save, but everyone appeared to have cleared out after that last blast. They obviously weren't dumb, and the goons either didn't notice or didn't care.

More yelling and Piper, securing her backpack against the tin debris and thanking her stars that she was no longer dealing with yesterday's hangover, decided it was time to make an entrance, swinging around into the action.

"Hi!" she said vibrantly, assessing the situation – three with the Chitauri guns left standing, five with guns left standing, no civilians in sight – "Doesn't this look like fun?"

"It's that fucking Spider-Girl!" the young guy closest to her cried. He happened to be of the normal gun-toting kind (never thought I'd say that with some relief), and he seemed to be on the verge of losing his head.

Huh. Maybe he heard about the guy I tried to throw off a building.

"Almost," Piper heard herself say – getting ready to move because they would react soon enough, the one with the huge metal gauntlet flexing it menacingly as electricity seemed to course through it – as she swiftly grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, the gun dropping from his limp fingers as she kicked him to the ground, securing him with webbing. "But I am in fact your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Wo –"

The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up and Piper felt it coming rather than saw it, fell to the ground and rolled onto her back –

Something huge and mechanized swooped over and she jolted in pain, looking down at her stomach: four long, thin slashes were now torn through the stomach of her suit, leaving shallow cuts that almost immediately filled with blood.

"What the –?" Piper murmured to herself, her head whipping around to find what the hell was that?!

A click registered and she looked up, saw a gun – regular everyday old gun – aimed at her face, the barrel seeming to fill up her vision and –

Her foot lashed out, kicking his hand away – he twisted to his left and fired, and by pure luck (oh shit) it hit the guy with the mechanized glove in the right knee and he shrieked, falling to his knees before shrieking again because that must have hurt, the metal gauntlet flying from his grip, scooting across the concrete platform –

Piper sprung up, hastily delivering the guy who had just tried to fricking shoot her a hit to the face that sent him almost flying, staggering off to the sidelines as the lights went out –

Meanwhile, another guy carrying a Chitauri gun raised his weapon, a wicked looking thing that Piper had a feeling wasn't going to just knock the other guy – an older dude sporting a shitty comb-over – out cold, but would probably leave his insides splattered all over the station platform.

She flung a web out, catching the ankle of Comb-over, and grasped with both hands, tugging hard. His feet flew out from under him, and he slipped to the floor, hitting his head on the concrete – "Ooooh sorry!" Piper yelled – as a beam of white-hot energy became the only thing visible and the resulting explosion threw her head over heels onto the tracks.

Where the train was coming.

"What am I looking for?"

"The red dot, Bruce." He struggled not to shout. He was already driving too fast.

"Because?"

"Just tell me where she is."

"You put a tracker on her?"

"No – it's a – it's her phone – is this really what you're finding important right now –?"

He heard Bruce sigh. "Look, Tony, how do you know she's in trouble?"

"Never hurts to check."

Bright lights. A horn, warning her, screeching at her to get out of the way.

Piper, adrenaline coursing through her veins at a hundred miles an hour (like the train, get out of the way or lie down, make a decision or you will die), rolled to the side where the concrete concaved under the platform, pressing herself flat against the wall.

The train rushed by, still honking, and she could feel the airstream, smell the burning of the rubber, could hear the bullets, could hear the space-age zap of that freaking Chitauri gun, crap what's going on up there?

The train was gone in a matter of seconds but Piper had no time to lose, scrambling up onto the platform –

The first thing she registered were the two bodies on the ground – or rather, one body with blood staining his t-shirt (dead? No, he's breathing, thank God) and a smoking pile of ashes.

The next thing she noticed was that only one other properly conscious person was standing on the platform with her; a tall man, sandy hair tied back into a ponytail. He was looking up at the sky and in the two heartbeats it took for him to notice her, Piper used her web-shooters to fire a cord of webbing at the mechanized gauntlet lying ten feet away from her, letting it sling back towards her waiting hands.

In the two heartbeats it took for him to raise his ray gun? I guess we're calling it a ray gun – to her, Piper threw the heavy glove straight at his head, where it collided with a satisfying conk and he fell backwards, eyes rolling back into his head, his nose pouring blood.

Piper let out a shaky sigh of relief. "I knew Coach Bowers should've put me on the team for basketball," she blurted out, more because she needed to cope, needed to accept that someone was dead, I need to tie these guys up before –

And then she felt it again, and she rolled away, fast –

A body fell from the sky and slapped down on the platform right next to her, and she heard the sickening crunch of bones.

He coughed and gasped, flecks of blood painting his chin – he's alive and he's breathing – and Piper crawled towards him, the panic in his eyes mirroring the fear she felt growing inside her.

"Don't worry," she said as calmly as she could, digging in his jacket pocket, searching for a phone – found it! Yes! "You're gonna be okay – I'm calling 911 –"

He grasped for her hand as she dialed. "Hey – you're going to be fine, you gonna – Hello? Help me, I need an ambulance – oh shit, he's hurt, he's broken a lot of bones – yes, we're –"

She barely had time to rattle off the address before she was hit again.

This time it was one of the wings – because that's what they were, giant mechanical wings – that clipped her hard on the shoulder as it banked sharply, and she smacked forwards onto the hard platform ground, the phone clattering away, her teeth mashing against her lips –

She glared up at the figure standing above her as he retracted his faceplate – it looks like something Tony would make – and she could barely admire the work that was his (wing suit? Flight suit? Exo-suit?) suit, all rotors and intricate detail and –

She stared at his face. He just looked like a normal, everyday guy.

"So you're the one who's been hunting down my buyers," he stated, nodding his head as if just processing the information. He shrugged, pouting his lips in a mockery of melancholy. "Sorry bedbug, but we can't have that."

Piper stared, still too aware of the wheezing attempts to breathe made by the man behind her.

"So you're the one selling all this –"

Her muscles tensed as he drew a friggin Chitauri gun, God, I actually miss normal guns –

She jumped, lunging for a section of metal roofing that hadn't been torn down as the white hot energy missed her, but he moved too, rising to her level and pivoting sharply, the solid edge of his right wing colliding powerfully with her ribs, throwing her back towards the ground.

Piper groaned through clenched teeth, sharp pains dancing through her ribcage every time she breathed in. "That's fine, I don't need ribs," she grumbled, trying to ignore just how very bad this was, how she could be dead in a second if she didn't focus –

The bird-man landed right next to her, and she should see the gouges the makeshift talon on his feet left in the concrete, black faceplate back in place as he aimed the weapon at her a second time –

She aimed the next web-shot at the eyes of the faceplate, and he made a sound of surprise, and maybe – maybe if she was quick enough –

His grip on the gun had loosened and she tugged it from his grip, ribcage in agony, fully aware that if he accidentally set it off (or maybe not so accidentally) she was toast –

He wrenched the web concealing his vision as she flung the gun onto the train tracks and his arm came up, slapping her with such brute force that she flew, saw stars as she cracked against the rubble, the pain in her ribs searing and bright, get up, Piper, get up or you're dead but her limbs wouldn't work, everything was fuzzy –

Hand around her throat, lifting her into the air. She coughed, spluttered, dully aware that he shouldn't have this much strength – it's the suit –

"No hard feelings, kid," the normal, everyday looking guy behind the faceplate droned. "You're just bad for business."

In the midst of the blurriness, a lone thought popped into her brain: no suit equals no power.

The edges of her vision were going dark but Piper's senses kicked into overdrive as she sought the mechanized gauntlet, saw it lying feet away and she aimed, hoping she wouldn't miss, hoping the webbing would catch what she needed –

The glove flew back to her hand and Piper let it slip on, feeling the handle embedded within it and instinct kicked in: she squeezed.

Electricity crunched out with astonishing intensity, violet-white against the blackening world, and the man with the metal wings swore, letting her go and Piper could see – because the colours and the clearness were returning – the crackle of the electricity ripple through the wings, malfunctioning as the man encased within them swore again and tried to work them –

Piper directed both of her hands at the remnant of the roofing, ribs aching, cuts stinging, teeth gritted while blood trickled from her split lip, darkening her mask with deeper shades of red. She tugged herself into the air, using the momentum to push herself feet first towards the man in the exo-suit.

"No hard feelings!" she yelled as her feet made contact with the helmet he wore, so hard it cracked and crap her legs were going to hurt after this one –

He stumbled back, falling to the ground, lying motionless as the wing suit continued to jitter and shudder before there was a hiss and it loosened, and Piper, crouched on the ground and cradling her ribcage with one arm, made to crawl towards him, pull him out of there and tie him up –

Another click dripping with lethality, and she froze, cursing inside her head. Why hadn't she sensed it?

Too tired, too hurt, too ugh –

"Whatever," she muttered.

"Don't matter much to me either," the guy with the sandy hair and the broken nose said, and sure, she had said she wanted normal guns but right now she would have preferred absolutely no guns at all thank you very much –

"But Toomes is right. You're bad for business."

"Okay, I'm giving you one chance. Drop the gun and back away, slowly, or you'll be sorry," Piper said firmly, thinking fast, drawing up nothing, shit, shit, shit –

The guy laughed, dry blood flaking away from his cupid's bow.

"No, really, I'm warning you," Piper said.

"Sure," was all he said before suddenly hewas flying across the station platform, disappearing behind a pile of rubble.

Piper whipped around, wondering where the blue bolt of energy had come from, whether somebody else had picked up one of those stupid guns –

Her heart sank (but was beating hard and fast. Piper told herself it was because of the fight). The Mark Forty-Seven was standing not ten feet behind her, one arm raised, clearly the reason Ponytail had suddenly taken flight.

Dammit, she thought, disgruntled. Couldn't you have shown up when I was kicking ass?

Okay, she wasn't dead. That was a pro, definitely a pro. Why was he so angry then?

Oh, that's right, because she would have been dead if he hadn't turned up.

"You mind telling me just what it is you think you're doing, Parker?" Tony said through clenched teeth, stomping over to her so he could help her to her feet – but she was already on her feet, one hand pressed against her ribs and oh awesome, she was bleeding, that was just great –

She stumbled towards him and he resisted the urge to simply pick her up and carry her, but Piper was limping past him. He wondered if she could hear the sirens.

"What are you –?"

"He's hurt," she said simply, and he could hear the frustration in her voice, hear the regret because she'd let it happen –

She could hardly stand, and all she cared about was the unconscious kid on the ground. His heart swelled, his stomach rolling. Okay, anger officially gone. The only problem was that the impulse to kiss her was coming in hot and heavy, and boy did it hate being ignored.

But he was better than that so too damn bad: he would ignore it.

"So are you," he said gently. "Piper –"

"I thought I was Parker," she said dully.

Gee, thanks Tony, for saving my life.

Tony stared at her. "Hey, remember how this used to be a train station? Yeah. You're the one in trouble here," he said, and although it was not his brightest insult, it got the point across easily enough.

"I usually am," Piper grumbled, staggering over to a dusty looking backpack and tugging it around her shoulders.

"Whoa, hey, just where are you going?" Tony said hastily because no way in hell was she going to be able to walk this one off. She could hardly stand! "Piper, we're not done here –"

"Lucky me," Piper said, not even bothering to lower her voice.

Tony paused, surprised. Probably deserved that, he thought, but now he was angry again, angry that she didn't understand how close that had been, still thanking God over and over again that he'd arrived in time –

"What can I say to make this clearer to you?" he snapped. "How does 'stop putting yourself in dangerous situations' sound?"

"But I got the guy!"

"Not the point – you couldn't have called?"

"I tried to call Happy, but he didn't pick up," Piper retorted, crossing her arms.

He felt the anger, red hot and stupid, crack through him like a whip. "Well congratulations, kid. You've done a great job by yourself."

He saw her shoulders stiffen before she ripped off her mask, and jeez she looked beat. Dried blood crackled across her lips, and she looked like she was getting a black eye.

"I messed up!" she yelled, and he baulked, flinching at the hurt in her voice. "Are you happy? Because you were right, Tony, congratulations! So can we skip the part where you tell me that I'm not good enough to join your stupid superhero circle-jerk?"

Piper couldn't see it, but Tony's jaw was on the fucking floor. She stood there, breathing heavily, looking so angry and confused, and his heart constricted.

This was all his fault.

"You think," Tony began slowly, "that I don't think you're good enough?"

"That's exactly what you think," Piper bawled, her voice breaking, and his stomach squirmed ashamedly. "So, fine, you win! I don't WANT to be part of the Avengers anymore! Not if it means I have to be around YOUfor – for one more second!"

He flinched. Now it wasn't just his stomach. Guilt tore through his body quicker than fire on a trail of gasoline, rendering him completely silent.

"Jesus, you've been doing all this because of me," he murmured weakly but she wasn't listening; she was too busy picking her mask up and covering her face as the sirens grew ever nearer. He heard her sniff, and he winced, unsure of whether it was because of the tears or her injuries. Either way, it was on him.

I just wanted to keep you safe.

"So thank you, Mister Stark," Piper was saying, but it sounded strange, disconnected. "Thank you for the trophy."

He was lost for words. Not only because he could hardly bring himself to defend his actions, but he had no idea what she was talking about. He almost let her fly off into the sunset.

Until Piper fainted and he lunged forwards, catching her before she smacked into the ground for what was probably the umpteenth time that day.