The tile was warm on Peter's feet and he hummed in contentment. In-floor heat was a luxury he'd never thought about, but was no-less falling in love with. Shedding his clothes, he stepped into the shower and turned the faucet on. The sound of rushing water filled the room and steam rose, fogging up the glass door. Warm water pelted Peter's back and he sighed in relief, letting the knots in his muscles relax. It had been a long month, that was for sure, but he was fine now.

The CAT scan had come back clear, which meant Peter was physically fine. He wasn't in the clear quite yet though. Most of his vitamin levels were low and his powers hadn't come back yet. There was no way to know for sure if they would. It made sense that they would, so Peter had hope, but for now all he could do was take it easy and wait and see.

Stephen had discharged Peter soon after the scan results came in and Tony had walked him to his room. When Tony had lingered in the doorway Peter had to assure the man that he was fine to be left alone. The man's face had twisted like he was hesitant, but he eventually sighed and nodded.

"If anything feels off, I'll let FRIDAY know. I promise, Mr. Stark."

"You better." He'd pointed a finger at Peter.

Peter had smiled a little. "Go to bed Mr. Stark. You look like you're about to pass out."

Tony had rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. "I'll be-"

"In the room next door, I know. I'm okay, Mr. Stark. I'm all good now. Now it's your turn to get better."

Tony's jaw had ticked and he'd rubbed it. "I hate it when you have a good point."

"Thank you?"

He'd rolled his eyes again. "Alright. I'm going, I'm going. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Night! Or- uh… 'afternoon."

The corner of Tony's lip had twitched. He'd stood in Peter's doorway for a moment longer, expression soft and eyes crinkling a little. It was a look of pure fondness. It made Peter's heart hurt just a little, but in a good way.

"'Afternoon, kid." With that, he'd left, leaving Peter alone. But for the first time in over a year, he hadn't felt lonely.

He'd taken a moment to look around at his messy desk and scattered papers. He'd missed a handful of classes at that point and was going to have to focus hard to get caught up. Peter had smiled to himself. He'd never have thought late schoolwork would bring him relief, but what could he say? It was nice to have normal problems again.

A few minutes later, Peter's phone had come to life, vibrating on the desk and playing a familiar tune. The Yodeler's Dance. Peter quickly grabbed it.

"Hey Ned!"

"PETER!" Ned's voice had blasted through the speaker and Peter jerked it away from his ear. "YOU WEREN'T ANSWERING YOUR TEXTS FOR, like, a bajillion years! ARE YOU OK?!"

Peter peered at his phone, sure enough there were over a dozen texts from Ned along with 4 missed calls from MJ.

"Yeah, where the hell were you?" MJ's voice was next. "You can't just go AWOL like that."

"Oh, uh, yeah, about that, I fell into a coma."

"WHAT?!" They'd both cried at once.

"Uh, yeah, I'm alright now, though. They found a cure."

"THEY DID? THANK GOD PETER YOU'RE GONNA BE ALRIGHT! OH GOD I WAS SO WORRIED, PETER! I've been so stressed and worried you were gonna, but, like, I didn't want you to, obviously! I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE OK!"

"We're both happy, Peter. It woulda sucked losing, you know. We care about you. I care about you. Always will," MJ had said, her voice sounding tight.

Peter had smiled. "I'm sorry I worried you guys."

They'd delved into an in depth conversation, sharing past worries, and making plans for the summer. Their chat lasted over an hour, but Peter would have been happy to talk forever. At long last, they'd said their goodbyes, making Peter promise to keep them up-to-date on anything and everything.

He loved his friends. That was something he would always be thankful for: the chance to spend more years with them.

He heard the bathroom door open, recentering his attention on the present. He whirled around, eyes wide and mouth open, ready to cry in alarm at the invasion. The scream died in his throat when he saw her emerald eyes shine with mischief. They did a once-over of him, taking a moment when they glided over his exposed, uh, lower region. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards and she started undoing her jeans, letting them drop. Then her underwear. Peter watched, the world falling into the background as she peeled her top up and over her head, showing a black push up bra. She undid it and Peter sucked in a breath as it dropped to the tiles, joining the pile.

Making her way over to him, she opened the glass door and stepped into the shower. Warm water ran down her skin and he watched as it drizzled across her collarbone, then her boobs, then down her stomach and then her inner thighs. Her hands cupped the sides of his face and he looked up. Her breath smelled of cinnamon as he moved her hands to wrap around his neck. She pulled herself close to him, bodies pressing together.

His brain was mush.

She smiled and nipped at his lips. He chased after her, lips locking and tongues meeting, gliding over each other. She was gentle with him and pulled away only after a few moments. She kissed down his jaw, then neck, then collarbone, suckling at his flushed skin.

Reaching for a bottle behind him, she squeezed out a portion of shampoo and started massaging it into his scalp. He closed his eyes and hummed in satisfaction. Her fingers danced through his hair, combing out the curls and sudsing the soap. They disappeared for a moment before returning, this time to his back with a handful of body-wash. She rubbed her palms along his skin, digits massaging his back and chest as she peppered his face and jaw with kisses. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder.

Exhaling, he relaxed, allowing himself to become putty in her hands.

. . .

"I'm surprised I didn't scare you off."

Her fingers stalled for a brief second before resuming, rolling a curl through her fingers. "Why do you say that?"

He shrugged, looking up at her from where his head rested on her lap. It was unreal how beautiful she was from every angle. Even looking up at the underside of her chin, she looked like a goddamn angel. "I mean I showed up half-dead on your doorstep, for starters."

Peter rolled his head, eying their reflection in the big windows of the commons area. They looked good together, chilling on the couch like they owned the place.

"Mmm and let's not forget when you asked me to peg you."

"What?!"

Her eyes flitted down to his, a smirk on her face. She leaned close, cupping his face and pulling him into a deep kiss. He reciprocated, breathing in the smell of her freshly washed hair, the damp strands falling to tickle his nose. She pulled away far too soon and he made an unhappy whine. She chuckled and pecked his nose before straightening back up.

"Which I am more than happy to do, by the way, if you meant it."

He'd heard the saying 'drunk words = sober thoughts'. Apparently it was also true for delirious words. He bit his lip and looked away, rolling his head so his cheek was pressed against her lower thigh. "I mean if you're cool with it…" he muttered.

He felt her nip at his ear then murmured into it, "you're gonna look so good on my cock…"

It was embarrassing, the flush he got from that. "But not today." He turned back to look at her. She was close, hovering right over him with that characteristic twinkle in her eye. "I wanna have my healing and durability back before…"

She chuckled. "Lover, I'm not going to be that rough with you." She winked. "Not the first time, at least."

He rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the smile crawling across his face.

He inhaled, filling his lungs with her honey-vanilla perfume. He felt them expand until they couldn't anymore then he exhaled, letting his body sink further into her lap. He heard her hum in contentment, twirling a curl of his hair.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," she said after some time. Peter looked ok at her. "Venice."

"Didn't I see on the news that they're getting a new exhibit at that Peggy Guggenheim Collection art museum place?"

Closed lips pulled into a devious smile. "Are they?" Her voice was high, feigning ignorance.

Peter wanted to groan. He knew he should try to convince her to not steal whatever it was that she was after. Odin knew they'd had arguments like that before. But she never listened. She never changed. And he'd never stopped lov-liking her despite it.

He didn't want to argue about it now. He was comfortable and content laying where he was. Plus, she'd done so much for him over the past weeks, the last thing he should be doing was lecturing her.

Stupid confusing morals.

He didn't say anything. He knew that she knew that he was disappointed. But he knew that she knew that she had him in her paw forever.

"Stay safe," is what he said. And he meant it.

He knew she was more than capable of looking after herself (she'd saved his life enough times already), but as time went on, he could feel the uneasy twist in his gut get tighter and tighter.

"Mmm, always."

"When are you gonna be back?"

She leaned back, slinging an arm over the back of the couch. "Haven't decided yet." She shrugged. "Who knows, maybe I'll meet some hot stud and spend the nights away with him."

Peter's face soured. Then he saw the teasing smile and he rolled his eyes. "If you do find a guy like that, make sure to bring him back here for us to share."

A surprised expression overtook Felicia's face and her fingers stalled. Peter smirked at the rare, but no less sweet, few times he'd caught her off guard. Seeing his face, hers softened halfway between a smirk of her own and exasperation. Her fingers resumed working their way through his hair.

"I don't want to share you."

Peter's grin sharpened. "Aww."

"Shut up."

"For what it's worth, I don't wanna share you either."

She averted her eyes, trying to act nonchalant, but Peter knew her well enough to catch the small tug of her lips and the crinkle around her eyes.

"Maybe I'll hold off on getting myself some side dick then," she said after some time. "But when I get back, I expect sex on the ceiling and hanging off the side of a sky-scraper."

Peter couldn't help but laugh pretty hard at that. Not because it was unreasonable, though - they'd done both of those before.

"Can do." He eventually got out. "I'll even buy you a bottle of champagne." She lifted an eyebrow and he shrugged. "Since I haven't had to buy food, I have a little money now. It'll be cheap champagne though, be warned. I'm talkin', like, might give us methanol poisoning level cheap."

The sound of her chucking made Peter's smile grow.

"I'm a lucky girl."

"Right? You don't find guys like me just anywhere."

She leaned down, mouth hovering over his. "No, you certainly don't."

She nibbled at his lower lip and he parted them, sucking at her upper lip. Their tongues met, twirling and dancing together. It was kind of an awkward position and he had to crane his neck uncomfortably, but any grievance Peter had melted, dribbling out of his ear as her tongue licked a long strip behind his teeth.

She tasted amazing. And she smelled amazing. She was just so- ugh, so amazing.

Not a minute later, their make-out session was rudely interrupted by the sound of the elevator dinging. That's what Peter got for hanging out in the commons area, he supposed.

Parting, both of their heads craned to spot Bruce who was hesitating by the elevator, clearly unsure whether he a) was allowed to come in, and b) if he wanted to come in.

Peter waved. "Hey Dr. Banner."

The man relaxed a little and resumed his shuffling into the room. "Hey Pete." His eyes flicked to Felicia. "Uh, h-hi… you."

"Hello," Felicia said, eyes curious as she watched the timid man squirm under her focus.

"Oh, this is Felicia," Peter clarified.

"Oh, uh. I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

"I don't."

"He doesn't."

Peter and Felicia spoke at the same time. They smiled at each-other.

"Oh…?" The man's eyes flicked between them, visibly confused. "Uh, anyway, how're you feeling, Peter?"

"'M doing better." Peter sat up and turned so he was facing the man. "Thanks for saving me."

The man softened and shook his head. "No need to thank me. That's just what we do in the Avengers."

"I appreciate it."

"I'm glad it all worked out." He nodded his head at Peter. "It's good to know you'll be sticking around for a while longer."

Peter gave a crooked smile. "Was that a play-on-words, Dr. Banner?"

The man shrugged, smiling a little. "Maybe."

"Ha!"

Bruce nodded then hurried to the kitchen. "I'll just- I just wanted a snack." He opened the fridge and pulled out a bag of baby carrots. "Uh, I'll let you two get back to… uh, I'll leave you two be." He hurried back to the elevator.

Peter waved. "Bye, Dr. Banner."

The doors closed.

"I'm getting to meet all your friends."

"Colleagues," Peter corrected. "If I were Dr. Banner's friend, I'd be a lot more excited, trust me. I mean his work on gamma radiation was revolutionary. Even before his accident."

"You're such a nerd." Peter reeled back, scoffing in mock offence. Felicia cupped his cheek with her hand. "But you're my nerd."

"Mmm. Have I ever told you you're out of my league?"

"No. But you better never forget it."

He chuckled. "Trust me, I won't."

"Good." She kissed him again, slow and purposeful. Pulling back, she inhaled. "I should leave now." Peter made a grumpy noise. "Don't be like that, I have bags to pack, things to… plan."

Peter groaned, but eventually gave-in with a sigh. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"Mmm, I'll be back soon, I promise, Lover."

"And I promise I'll be strong enough to lift more than a textbook when you're back."

She got up, leaving a divot in the couch for a moment. Peter watched as she sauntered over to the balcony, hips swaying with deliberation. She hopped onto the railing, arms out to balance herself.

She looked back, lips tugged into a sultry smile. "Love you, Spider."

Peter returned the look. "Love you, Cat."

. . .

The quiet sound of a click pricked Tony's ears. He swivelled his head in the direction of the sound just in time to catch a grey sweater dip behind the island. Setting down his book, Tony cleared his throat. "Whatchya doin' there, Pete?"

Messy curls came into view as the kid's face slowly peeked out of the island. He stood. He had a camera in hand. "Nothing."

"Were you taking secret pictures of me?"

"..."

"Peter."

"Maybe…"

"Unbelievable."

"I just wanted to get a few…"

"Why?"

He padded over and took a half-seat on the nearest chair's arm. He clicked through his camera. "Since the whole outbreak is over, Jameson wants photos, but I can't really patrol without my powers, so I can't give him pictures of Spider-Man." He shrugged. "Thought Ironman would be the next best thing."

Tony stared at him for several seconds. "You thought sneaking pictures of me reading a book and looking a hundred years old in my reading glasses was the best you could do?"

"Uh… well when you put it that way…"

Tony rolled his eyes. "When does he need these photos by?"

"Wednesday."

"So, you've still got a couple more days. Good. We have another meeting tomorrow. You can get a group picture of the Avengers or something then." He picked up his book again.

"Wait, what? Since when…?"

Tony frowned. "Did I forget to tell you that? Mr. Paranoid Pirate called a meeting."

"Oh."

"And your presence is expected."

"Really?"

"You are an Avenger, aren't you?"

"Right. Y-yeah." The kid paused, biting the inside of his cheek. "Is there, like, a crisis or something? Like I said, I'm not so sure I could really figh-"

"Nothing like that." Tony waved a hand in dismissal. "Just an update for everyone on the roll-out of the cure."

"Oh." He sounded relieved and Tony's eyes flicked to him. Sure enough, his shoulders were slumped.

Tony bit the inside of his cheek. He had to wonder if the kid even wanted to be an Avenger. Tony had made him an honorary one on that damned spaceship in the spur of the moment. But he knew that not a few years back, the kid had turned down the official offer. On top of that, he'd been uncharacteristically quiet during the meetings he'd attended so far. Tony had expected him to go wild and talk everyones' ears off, but he'd just taken a seat (far away from Tony) and stayed there in near silence the whole time. Half the time, he hadn't even seemed like he was fully there, eyes staring at nothing in particular for minutes on end and leg bouncing.

"What time is it tomorrow?"

"Hm?" Tony leaned forward a little, face pinched.

The kid blinked, tilting his head. Then he smirked and, before Tony could react, raised his camera and snapped a shot. His smirk sharpened as he reviewed the new photo. Tony's face fell into a flat stare. Peter took another picture, snickering.

"The meeting," he eventually said with a tilted smile.

"Oh. It's at 2."

"It starts at 1:00pm," FRIDAY corrected.

"Right, right," Tony nodded slowly, "2 was the time I was planning to show up."

"Oh man, please don't," Peter groaned. "Last time you were late, I felt like I was gonna go insane waiting so long. It was. So. Boring. And I'm new, so I can't just show up late like you."

The corner of Tony's mouth twitched. "Fine."

"Oh thank Odin!" He threw his arms up, then paused, blinking. "Wait. There's a meeting tomorrow…" Peter muttered, squinting in deep thought.

"Y…eah. Did you just forget what we were talking about? We were literally still in the middle of the convers-"

"Can I order some white powdered donuts? Those mini ones that're super messy?"

Tony blinked. That had taken an odd turn. He shook his head. Who knew what was going through the kid's brain. "Uh, yeah, sure, whatever you want, kid."

"Awesome. So much better than chips."

Tony squinted.

"Anyway!" Peter took yet another picture. Several, actually. And then another. And then another.

Tony flipped the bird. That got some big giggles out of the kid and Tony couldn't help but crack a big smile at that.

. . .

"How has distribution of the cure been going?" Maria asked.

Tony waved a hand. "It's quick to produce and we sent them out to almost everyone already. I set up a walk-in clinic downstairs so the public can get theirs. The thing isn't exactly FDA approved yet, and it'll take too long to wait, so if anyone comes asking, say it's… I dunno, not a privately-produced cure."

"And the mutant army?"

Tony jutted a thumb at Sam and Steve. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb handled it."

Sam scoffed and Steve frowned in offended disappointment.

"So it's all good, it sounds like." Maria confirmed.

"Pretty much, yeah."

Nick nodded and cast a glance at Peter. "Good. I'm glad." Peter smiled a little.

"We all are!" Scott exclaimed, pulling Peter into a knuckle sandwich.

"Gah!" Peter tried to escape it, but he was stuck.

Scott laughed and released him. "Chocolate covered raisin?"

"Oooo." Peter took one and then produced his own snack. "Powdered mini donut?"

"Hell yeah!"

"You guys do know we see you, right?" Carol said.

"No you don't," Scott said.

"You see nothing," Peter concurred.

She rolled her eyes and extended a hand across the table. "Gimme a donut."

Peter did, whispering, "don't tell anyone."

Carol played along. "Only if you share with me from now on."

"You'll have to sit over here. Secret snacks are for 'left side of the table' people only."

"I'm on the left side of the table," Bucky raised his hand.

"You threw me into a wall," Peter said.

Bucky's face twisted and he let his hand fall back down.

Carol rolled her eyes and smiled. "You got a deal."

Peter's eyes lit up. "Bring a snack next time, we can start a buffet!"

She shoved the donut in her mouth and thought for a second. "How about chips?"

Peter shook his head slowly. "You have so much to learn."

"Bring a quiet snack so no one will know," Scott added, also shaking his head.

"We're in the middle of an important meeting, motherfuckers. Shut it!" Nick snapped.

Everyone went quiet and Nick turned back to the screen. He flicked it, bringing over the image of a graph. Peter internally groaned. He hated graphs. They were just the worst, y'know?

A thought occurred to Peter "I have a question." Peter raised his hand. Nick begrudgingly paused, giving Peter room to speak. "On your licence, what do they put down for your hair colour? Do they leave or blank or go off of your eyebrow colour?"

Shadows rolled over Nick's face and his eye narrowed, burrowing into Peter. He stayed that way for several heartbeats before turning away. He shot Peter a look over his shoulder, looking more exasperated than angry at that point. "It's blank."

A big smile split Peter's face. "Neat!"

"Shut up."

"But, I have something else to say! It's important, I swear!"

The groan from Nick was priceless, but Peter was pretty sure he was about to make it up to him with his epic incoming joke. "What's Steve Roger's favourite drink?"

Nick gave him a flat look, but Peter had gotten to know him well enough to pick up on the silent intrigue.

Steve, meanwhile, frowned.

"Iced Americano!"

Tony wheezed, curling over. He smacked Steve's arm, heaving silently as tears started streaming down his face. Peter blinked. He'd expected a chuckle from Mr. Stark, yeah, but this was… the man was dying.

"HA! That's my boy! Good one, kid!"

Steve was frowning in disappointed offence - more at Tony, though, than Peter.

"As good as that joke actually was for once, can we please just fucking focus here, motherfuckers? What am I running? A daycare?" Fury exasperated.

"Nick said my joke was good!"

"Shut it, Parker."

"Sorry."

"Did you just call Fury 'nick' and get away with it?" Carol asked, waging a finger between them.

"Uh…"

"Even his mother didn't call him that." Then, "or so he says."

Peter frowned, looking at Nick. "That's weird."

The man rolled his eye, showing nothing but the white for ten solid seconds. "The next person I have to tell to shut up is gettin' their ass whooped."

"GREETINGS MORTALS!" The doors were literally thrown open so hard that they broke off the hinges.

A few cries of surprise went through the room and everyone's attention snapped to the man who was standing in the doorway like nothing had happened.

Peter's heart literally stopped.

Golden hair was a waterfall, flowing through the air and cascading in a gentle stream. It shone like silk, shimmering in the warm rays of the sun. A silk shirt rippled over steel muscle, coating his body in a sheet of ivory. He towered high, like a statue made of the rarest and most valuable jewels. He was breathtaking, mesmerizing, a work of art.

"Oh my god, Thor."

This wasn't happening. No fucking way. He was finally meeting him. The man, the myth, the legend, the sexiest person to ever exist in the history of the universe. And he was standing in the same room as Peter.

Peter snorted like an idiot in love, a huge, dumb smile plastered to his face.

Everyone's heads slowly turned on him, but he didn't notice, focus completely and utterly taken up with the beautiful, perfect, angelic, sexy man.

Thor~

Noticing Peter, the man approached the table, although he was still on the other side of it. Which was one table length too far away in Peter's opinion.

"Ah, you must be Tony's offspring!" His massive arms extended. Peter had to resist the urge to jump into them like a koala.

Wait.

What had he just called Peter?"

"He's not-" Tony started, only to be cut off by the god.

"I thought your offspring was of the other sex? And smaller -" he looked at Peter again "-not that you aren't tiny. I mean look at you, I could pick you up and crush you like a grape!"

"You can crush me…" Peter murmured, mouth on autopilot at this point to make up for his derailed brain.

Tony was about to say something, but stopped himself, head swivelling on Peter, with a confused noise.

"What is your name, young one?"

"Pe-Peter."

"A fine name for a fine lad!" He boomed. "Peter Starkson!"

"Oh, I'm- I'm not-"

"My apologies. Tonyson."

"N-no…"

The man's eyebrows furrowed, although his smile remained in place. "Anthonyson?"

"Mr. Stark isn't my dad."

"I do not understand."

"You're thinking of my daughter," Tony piped up. "And she's five years old, dumbass."

"Is this child not also five years old? He is so tiny."

Peter raised his hand. "I'm eighteen and half, so, not a child. An adult actually." A consenting adult, that was… ha ha… aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh….

Anyway.

"Uh anyway," Peter said, echoing his own thoughts, "my dad is Richard Parker."

"Ah. Richardson."

"Or Dickson, 'cause that's the shorthand for Richard."

"Kid." Tony exasperated.

Peter threw his hands up in defence. "That was his name!"

"Peter Dickson-"

"Don't call him that," Tony cut off the god with a pointed look.

"You can call me whatever you want, Mr. Thor sir."

"No he can't." He turned back to Thor. "His name is Peter. Just Peter."

"Well, I mean, Parker. Peter Parker," Peter corrected.

"I am confused. What is this lad's name?"

"Peter."

"You look thin. Like one of those animated cheese strings. From those silly commercials."

"Peter here is recovering," Scott piped up.

"From a battle?"

"The mutant disease."

"Ah! A warrior, I see!" He boomed. "Such a young warrior deserves a reward for his bravery!"

"Neat!" Peter would take anything Thor had to give. Anything…

Any. Thing.

"Let me see, I have-" the god fished into his pockets and pulled out a variety of items, one after the other "-a multi-coloured cube, a role of scotch tape, a clip-on bow tie-"

"I want your shirt," Peter blurted out.

Thor paused, eyebrows raising. Everyone else around the table turned their heads to Peter - something they'd been doing multiple times, it seemed, since Thor had walked in.

Peter wasn't being obvious, was he?

Nah.

"My shirt?"

"Yeah," Peter nodded enthusiastically. "I, uh… I'm cold."

From the corner of his eyes, Peter saw Tony's head fall into his hand with a shake, while Stephen rolled his eyes. Thor, meanwhile, squinted in question and Peter momentarily worried he was going to say no.

The god shrugged.

Like a dream coming true, Peter watched as the man crossed his arms, each hand taking hold of the hem of his shirt. The material lifted, first exposing the man's belt, the top of his V becoming visible. Peter bit his lip as the material continued to rise, showing a belly-button, an eight pack of abs, pecks with pink nipples, then a collar-bone.

The shirt was completely off.

Peter's eyes glued to Thor's bare chest. He knew the smile cracked across his face was obvious, but he didn't care. Thor's chest was like an ocean of gold, skin rippling across muscle, and Peter's eyes were a boat, waiting on bated breath to be cap-sized.

Ha….

"Here you are, young Dickson." He tossed the shirt to Peter, who mindlessly caught it, eyes not wavering from their current preoccupation.

Peter crumpled the shirt in his hands. "This is, truly, the greatest present ever. Thank you, Mr. Thor."

"Aren't you going to wear it?" Thor asked.

"Hm?" Peter leaned forward, blinking. "Oh right, yes- yeah, that's- that's what I wanted it for, after-all, ha ha… nothing else."

Thor squinted a little in confusion.

Peter tugged it over his head. It was like a dress on him, so freaking big. Like, massive. Peter could only imagine someone this massive planking over him. Ha… Also it smelled like Thor, which was a sweet spring blossom. Ugh, the god was just so perfect, it wasn't fair to tease Peter like that.

"That's much better, I'm feeling warmer already."

"I bet you are," Scott murmured to him.

Peter blew a raspberry and whispered back, "like you're not."

A moment passed. "You know what, fair enough."

"That reminds me!" Peter fished his camera out of his backpack and hopped up. "Can I take your picture, Mr. Thor?"

"Uh-"

"Awesome. Smile." He snapped a few photos, not even caring that the god wasn't posing. "He he… ahh. Anyway. Uh, maybe stand over there? And pose, or something?"

Thor did as he was told, although his eyes shone with confusion. "Would you like me to put a shirt on-"

"Nah. You're good. You're- you're so good." He took even more photos. After several, he stopped himself long enough to consider how Jameson would react to them. "Ok maybe one with a shirt would be good."

"Might I ask, young one, why are you photographing me?"

"Kid's a photographer." Tony answered, waving a lazy hand. "Everyone else line up and smile."