A few days later, Tony walked into my room, "Hey, kid, any chance you could babysit for Scott?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Nope."

He shrugged, "Too bad. Cassie's waiting for you downstairs, we'll be back in a few hours, see you later!" Then bolted from my room, yelling at Scott to "Go, go, go!"

I rolled my eyes, sent a text to Peter, and went down to the general-access living area of the penthouse where an adorable brown-haired girl was sitting on the couch.

Several hours later, I watched from the floor where I was pretending to sleep as the adults returned. Tony was practically indecipherable as he stuttered and choked over the makeover his penthouse had received. There was glitter everywhere and a massive lego playhouse with adjoining cardboard tunnels took up most of the open floorspace (Peter had moved all the furniture to the edges). Cassie, Peter, and I were curled up in a pile of soft blankets, the other two still sleeping. Peter's face still showed remnants of face paint and there was sparkly nail polish on his fingers. A boa was wrapped around his neck and a tiara was on his head. Cassie had her own tiara and matching sparkly nails. She had also gained a poufy princess dress. I'd managed to escape dress-up time by making sundaes, the empty containers from ice cream, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce still sitting on the counter, and the telltale stains around the corners of Cassie's mouth.

Scott noticed the containers, a horrified expression crossing his face, "Oh no, they gave her sugar!"

Tony was still panicking over the glitter explosion and was unable to formulate a proper response. I giggled, poking Peter awake and shifting so I could pick up the little princess. I deposited her in Scott's arms, "Enjoy. Next time you're going to want me to babysit, I require two weeks notice." He nodded dumbly and walked out with his sleeping-for-now sugar-filled child.

I turned to Tony, "Got that, old man? Unless you want glitter in your workshop."

His eyes widened in horror and he nodded. "Noted."

I grinned, patted a groggy Peter on the shoulder, and went back to my room.

Another week passed. I was almost done my grounding and was sitting on the couch, aimlessly flipping channels. I had the whole place to myself since Peter was spending the day with May, and the Avengers had gone off on a mission to another Hydra base. My peace was interrupted as an alarm began going off and I looked up, panicked. FRIDAY's voice echoed through the space, "All medical personnel to MedBay, all medical personnel to MedBay. Urgent Care needed. Initiating Capsicle Down Protocol. Initiating Boss Down Protocol."

I ran out of the private penthouse, heading to the next floor down where the landing pad was, arriving just as the jet touched down, the back hatch immediately opening. Dr. Cho ran in a moment later, followed by a handful of medical professionals. Nat pushed a gurney off the plane, where Steve's prone form lay, his front drenched in blood. Close behind was Rhodey, supporting my father as he limped out, also covered in blood.

My eyes widened and I ran over, "Are you okay!?"

He gave me a thumbs up and a pained smile, "Never better, kid."

"Tony, seriously!"

Rhodey spoke up, "He'll be okay, Y/N. To be honest, he'd be a lot worse if it weren't for him." He jutted his chin towards where the doctors were examining and stabilizing Steve before heading off at a jog towards the elevator with his gurney, Natasha and Uncle Bucky close behind.

I looked back at my dad, concern making my voice stern, "But you're still going to see the doctors now too, right?"

He began to shrug, but winced and nodded instead.

"Good, then we'll take you from here." A doctor appeared at our sides with a wheelchair, lowering Tony into it and taking him away, Rhodey at their side to explain what had happened. I moved to follow them, but was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

I turned to face Bruce, "I need to be with him!"

He shook his head, a kind expression on his tired face, "It's going to be very busy down there, the best thing you can do for your dad is to give them space and time. They'll let you know when you can see him."

I met his eyes, my own watering, "He will be okay, though, right?"

He nodded, "Yes. He only has a minor injury."

"…and Steve?"

His expression turned more grave, "Steve is a bit more uncertain, but I have faith he'll pull through," he paused for a moment then continued, "He saved Tony's life doing what he did."

"What even happened?"

"There were more Hydra agents than we thought, and with advanced weaponry. They had some tech that disabled the Iron Man suit, leaving Tony unprotected, then aimed at him with a souped-up assault rifle. Steve was closest to Tony, but he'd just thrown his shield and didn't have it back yet, so he jumped in front of him instead, taking most of the gunfire."

"Without his shield?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

The next day when Steve woke up in the ICU, immobilized, wrapped in bandages and hopped up on super soldier level painkillers, I was sitting next to him.

He squinted at me in confusion, "Y/N?"

I shifted in my chair, subtly stretching the stiffness from my body, "Glad to see you awake, Steve."

He still seemed bewildered, his tone cautious, "You're talking to me again?"

I sighed and nodded, blinking back tears at the thought of what could have happened. "You saved my dad's life yesterday. I'm considering it even."

One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile, "Thank you. And I am sorry about before—"

I cut him off, "Nope. Part of the moving forwards package means never speaking of it again."

He nodded in understanding, and I stood up. "I'll let Uncle Bucky and the nurses know you're awake. I hope to see you up and running laps around Sam soon."

He laughed quietly as I left the room to find the others.

That weekend, MJ and Ned came over with Peter and we took over a spare media room. First, I beat them all very soundly at Mario Karts, Peter grumbling and pouty when I broke several of his records. Then Ned and Peter teamed up, getting us to watch two Star Wars movies before MJ and I rebelled.

"No, not another one."

"But…but, Star Wars." They gave her their puppy dog eyes.

MJ gave them her deadpan look, "No."

They turned to me and I put on a stern expression, hands on my hips and shaking my head. Peter pouted again. I tried to think of something to distract them…

"What about karaoke?"

"Okay!"

We shifted the media set-up, bringing out karaoke equipment.

Ned and Peter dueted a song from Star Wars, then MJ and I did 'You Belong with Me' and I noticed her giving Peter a few quick side glances. We had FRIDAY randomize the songs after that, and we took turns going individually, in pairs, or all at once, going through 'Bohemian Rhapsody', 'Mr. Brightside", "Sweet Caroline", "Promiscuous" (That one fell on MJ's turn and Peter blushed red the entire time), "Man! I Feel Like A Woman!", "Walking On Sunshine", "Wannabe", and several other oldies and pop songs.

Just as we decided to wrap it up, I happened to glance out the window, my eyes widening.

"It's snowing!" The world was a blizzard of white—I couldn't see the city below us through the thickly falling snow.

"Really!?" Ned and Peter jumped up and down like excited puppies.

MJ raised an eyebrow, "Shall we move this outside?"

"YES!" The boys screamed.

I laughed, "Sure—but Peter you better get your heated suit, no more hypothermia for you."

He scrunched his nose and stuck his tongue out at me but bounded off to change. By the time he got back, we'd all wrapped ourselves up in our layers, so we headed down to the ground level, heading into one of the larger private gardens.

That's where Tony found us, laying on the ground surrounded by a several snowmen, the remnants of broken snowballs and half-used ammunition piles, a partially built snow fort, and multiple snow angels.

"C'mon kids, Pepper is making hot chocolate."

The others began dragging their tired and damp selves into the building, but I gave Tony a beseeching look, "Make a snow angel?"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "No, kid."

"Please?"

"This is designer!"

"Please?"

"It'll ruin my hair!"

I pouted, making puppy dog eyes, "For meeeee?"

He rolled his eyes, "Fine."

I grinned, laying down beside him in the snow, and making an angel beside him. As we stood up, I discreetly brought a handful of snow with me.

We stood staring down at our shapes, Tony softly smiling before turning to me with a long-suffering sigh, "Happy now?"

I shook my head. "No."

He frowned, "Why no—"

I dumped my handful of snow on his head, "Now I am!" And ran off laughing.

"Y/N!"

I sat with Peter, staring morosely at the stack of textbooks and collection of notes that surrounded us on the table as he marked my practice test. I'd spent the first half of the day studying science for finals with Rose, but she'd had to beg off to work on some of her other subjects, so now I was with the boy genius.

He passed my test back to me with an apologetic look and I groaned at all the red.

"Oh just kill me, it would be easier."

"Sure, but you'll have to do the equation so I know how much bleach to give you."

"Just throw me off the building instead."

"That would work…do the math so I know what floor to throw you off of to make sure its fatal."

"Shoot me?"

He pouted, "Mr. Stark won't let me near the guns—but if you can help me design and build a gun-like tool, it's a go."

I glared at him, "That sounds like it also involves this science crap."

He grinned back innocently.

I dropped my head down on the table, "Seriously, all this studying makes me want to give up on it all."

He nodded, an understanding expression on his face, "Same, to be honest."

I tilted my head to look sideways at him, "I'll get the rope, if you get the chairs?"

"Too cliché, we gotta do it with style."

"There's a whole armoury of random weapons on the main Avengers training floor?"

"Now you're talking."

"Ooo, or we could have Tony cook for us."

He grimaced, "I want to die, not suffer."

"Oh true. Have Pepper make something but slip some arsenic into our portions?"

"Solid plan. Or we could go building hopping Spidey-style, but I just don't bring the web shooters?"

"Or just plain jump off the roof?"

"Steal a quinjet and crash it?"

"Try to break through the Wakanda forcefield?"

"Set up one of those automatic baseball throwing machines, but with grenades?"

"Or an automatic bow and arrow machine, with Clint's arrows, turn ourselves into pincushions?"

We went back and forth for awhile, idly and calmy discussing the various ways we could use things in and around the tower to escape finals via imminent death.

"Take one of the old Marks to space and—"

"No. Absolutely NOT!" A panicked-looking and panting Tony burst into the room with several concerned Avengers behind him.

I shrugged, "Fine, no Marks."

"No, no dying!"

I pouted and crossed my arms, leaning back in my chair, "Well, where's the fun in that?"

"Where's the—WHERE'S THE—dying ISN'T FUN!"

"Neither is life right now, so what's the difference?" Peter asked, his brow furrowing.

Dad's eyes widened even further, his face red. He pointed aggressively at us then at Sam, "You two. Therapy. Now."

I exchanged confused looks with Peter before turning back to Tony, "Why?"

He sputtered incoherently for a few moments before Sam took pity and answered for him, "Because if you're having thoughts of death over schoolwork, there may some underlying issues we need to address."

Peter and I gaped for a moment before my brain finally caught up and I realized they all thought we'd been serious.

I chuckled, "Oh my god, we do not need therapy. We're not being serious—haven't you ever heard of fatalistic humour?"

Tony and Sam glanced uncertainly at each other, then back at Nat and Clint who just shrugged. Tony rubbed his forehead, looking very tired, "…Why are you like this?"

Peter shrugged, "We just are?"

Tony turned to me, a mildly desperate tone in his voice, "Why?"

I mirrored Peter's shrug, "I dunno."

Nat sighed, "I'm out." Clint and Sam followed her away, passing Steve and Uncle Bucky as they entered the room.

Steve looked at Tony's expression then at us, "What's going on?"

Tony, sounding very defeated, replied, "The kids were contemplating death to get out of finals and apparently it's just a jo—"

Uncle Bucky grinned, "Ah understandable, let me know if you want to borrow my arm."

Steve shook his head, "Please Bucky, you know that isn't the right way to answer," he turned to us, "My shield would be a much better choice if you'd like to go with decapitation."

I reached out to fist bump Uncle Bucky and Peter did the same with Steve, "Cool, thanks guys."

Tony stared at them in horror. "WHAT?!"

They blinked at him innocently, Steve questioning, "Don't you know what dark humour is?"

Tony gave a cry of exasperation, before turning and stalking out of the room.