Family dinner

by Ponyboypanda

When an Avengers dinner doesn't go to plan, it's up to Peter to save the day! Peter tells the others about his other life.

Not Infinity War compliant.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I just love Marvel.

The Avengers are coming over for dinner. Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff arrived an hour ago, sitting in the living room, chatting with Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts. Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Vision came next, bringing stories from their most recent getaway. Now we're just waiting on Mr. Wilson, Sergeant Barnes, and Mr. Barton. Colonel Rhodes stayed over last night; he visits often. Tony said that I could come talk to the couples if I wanted, promising to include me in conversations and introduce me to everyone. I declined, however, preferring to meet the rest of the Avengers all at once.

There's also the fact that I'm currently stuck to the wall.

This is absolutely the worst day for me to be stuck to my wall. I haven't gotten myself stuck to anything in months! Why am I getting stuck now?

I'll tell you why. Over the last year and a half, I've noticed that I have a harder time controlling my powers when I'm intimidated. Or hungry. Unfortunately for me, the Avengers are extremely intimidating, and I haven't eaten since this morning. Not to mention, the more I think about how embarrassed I would be to have them find me this way, the more out of control my stickiness becomes.

Now I'm seriously worried that no matter how relaxed I force myself to become, I will still be stuck here all night. I guess that means I will never get to meet the Avengers and I will never get to tell them that I'm Spider-Man. Dang.

Oh right, I guess there's something I should mention: The only people who know about my 'extracurricular activities' are Ned, May, Mr. Stark, and Ms. Potts. Mr. Stark and I agreed that we'd tell the rest of the Avengers tonight. Hence the reason that Mr. Stark is currently calling me into the kitchen to eat, and hence the reason I can't go into the kitchen to eat.

I have a terrible feeling about tonight. Something bad is going to happen, I'm sure of it. What if the other Avengers are disappointed? What if they were expecting some cool guy? I'm not a cool guy. I spend my free time building Star Wars themed Lego sets with my best friend and doing physics homework. I'm not cool.

Or worse, what if they think I'm too young to be a superhero? What if they convince Mr. Stark to take my suit away again and prohibit me from being Spider-Man anymore? I wouldn't survive.

Or maybe it'll be the opposite? What if they love me so much that they insist that I officially become an Avenger and they make me move into the compound and quit school? But then I fail at superheroing and they fire me, but I don't even have a high-school diploma so I can't get a job and then I become homeless and eventually die of hunger at the ripe-old age of twenty-six?

I stop my thoughts. None of that is going to happen. Mr. Stark won't let anything bad happen to me. I just need to get my arms unstuck from the wall before I have a witch or a hundred-year-old man knocking on my door to get me to come eat. Gosh, my life is so weird.

I take three deep breaths, exhaling with my eyes closed. Before I know it, my arms are free from the wall. I let out a shaky sigh, plastering a smile on my face as I walk out my door. I'm careful to avoid touching anything, not trusting myself not to stick.

I've met all of the Avengers before, as Spider-Man, of course. I've been introduced to some of them as Peter, but a lot of them are meeting me for the first time today. The dining room is full of the clatter of silverware and the chatting and laughter of ten people. I clench my teeth, trying not to flinch away from the noise. Why did my senses have to act up today of all days?

I'm standing in the doorway, unsure of where to sit, when Mr. Stark looks at me with a smile. He gestures to the seat to his left and introduces me to the table. There is a chorus of greetings from everyone, making my ears ring. Ms. Potts sits on Mr. Stark's other side, smiling at me when I walk past. I do my best to smile back, my head already starting to pound because of the sound. The smell of the food hits my nose at once, the spices making my eyes water.

The meal has already been served, everyone digging in and catching up with one another. Mr. Vision's placemat is empty, he simply smiles at Ms. Maximoff as she eats and talks to Mr. Barton. It's easy to tell who at the table has an advanced metabolism. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes's plates are both piled high, as is my own. I can feel myself start to panic again as I sit. Mr. Stark and I had planned to tell everyone after dinner. What if someone guesses? What if they see my plate and discover my secret before everyone is done eating? What if the dinner is ruined?

I look at my food, no longer hungry. Nevertheless, I pick up my fork, knowing that Mr. Stark will worry if I don't eat. The first few bites sink into my stomach like cement, Mr. Stark's usually incredible food turning to ash in my mouth. The conversation at the table is light and full of laughter, staying far away from any sort of superhero talk.

I feel like I don't belong. Sure, Spider-Man has trained and fought with these people a hundred times before, I know them. But they don't know me. To them, I'm just Stark's intern. It's weird for an intern to eat dinner with his boss and all of his boss's friends, right? Yeah, that's definitely weird.

I'm jerked from my thoughts when Ms. Romanoff raises her voice a bit, calling out a question to Mr. Stark. "Stark!" she says. "Is Spider-Man coming tonight? I wanted to talk to him about a few things from last Saturday."

It's suddenly much harder to swallow. She's talking about when we were attacked by Hydra operatives last weekend. I was punched in the face and she had mentioned that she wanted to teach me a few things about hand-to-hand combat. She's talking about Spider-Man and I'm Spider-Man and it's too much and I don't think I can handle everyone knowing and Mr. Stark and I hadn't planned on anyone asking about Spider-Man while we ate and it's too loud and the lights are too bright and I can't breath and–

"He might drop by later," Mr. Stark replies, cutting off my internal panic attack.

At least four people responded with a resounding, "Don't you mean … he might swing by later?"

There is a round of laughter at this, echoing off the walls and slamming into my ears. I drop my fork, ramming my hands onto my ears, trying to protect them from the noise. Only I don't drop my fork … it stays stuck to my hand the entire time, getting tangled in my hair.

When I realize what I've done, I try to drop my hands into my lap. Instead of brushing it off and laughing with everyone else, now I have to explain why my hands are stuck to my head. My heart starts to pound and the lights become blinding and it's all too loud and everyone is shouting and Captain Rogers is looking at me and it's just too much–

"Son? Are you ok?" Captain Rogers says. His voice is probably barely above a whisper but it sounds like sirens to my over-sensitive ears. Everyone stops to look at us, wondering why I'm acting so weird, I'm sure.

"I'm fine," I say, my voice coming out as a painful rasp. "Excuse me." I jump up from the table, running down the hall and into my room. Kicking the door shut, I stumble into the connected bathroom. I stare into the mirror.

I can still hear every word being said in the kitchen, even through two solid cement walls and the hands that still shield my ears. I can hear as everyone starts asking about me. I can hear Mr. Stark tell everyone that he is going to check on me. I'm not surprised when I hear a soft knock on my door. I tell him to come in, hoping my voice is loud enough for him to hear.

"You ok, kid?" he asks, his voice gentle. I only nod, propping myself on my toilet and dropping my head. "You need help getting unstuck?" I nod again and then I can feel his fingers on my hands, gently pulling them away from my head. It takes a moment but eventually I relax and I'm able to drop my hands. My fork clatters to the floor, making me wince. "Are you stressed? If you don't want to tell them, you don't have to. You can keep training with us as Spider-Man and I promise no one will be mad."

I shake my head, finally deciding to speak. "Something bad is going to happen tonight. I can feel it. Of course I'm stressed about telling everyone, but that's not why I'm acting so weird. I want to tell them. I want them to know Peter, not just Spider-Man. I just can't get this stupid feeling to go away." Mr. Stark pats me on the shoulder, looking sympathetic. "I'm sorry if I weirded everyone out. I'll try to be normal for the rest of the night."

"Don't do that! Pete, nobody wants you to be normal. We just want you to be you. Trust me, I've talked about 'my amazing intern, Peter' enough that these people already practically know you. They were all so excited to officially get to meet you tonight. You should have heard Steve at the meeting yesterday, I'm pretty sure he and Nat are just about ready to adopt you." I can't help but chuckle a bit at that, my trepidation dissipating with every second. "Unfortunately for them, you aren't theirs to keep." He gives me a smile before continuing. "Kid, just relax. They already love Spider-Man, they'll love Peter just as much." I nod again, steeling my resolve. "And I meant it … if you don't want to tell them tonight, we don't have to. It's your secret."

"No, I want to tell them. They have the right to know."

With a quick nod and another pat on my shoulder, Mr. Stark and I stand, strolling down the hallway together. Everyone looks up as we reenter the dining room.

"Are you feeling better, Peter?" Ms. Maximoff asks, her sharp accent contrasting with her soft tone. There are nine other pairs of eyes looking at me when I answer.

"Much better, thank you." I say and Mr. Stark smiles as we reclaim our seats, the conversation resuming around us.

Before I know it, dessert is eaten and the party has moved to the living room, everyone settling into couches and armchairs. The feeling from before, that something bad is coming, strikes me again with a vengeance. I prop myself uneasily on the edge of the couch I share with Mr. Barton and Sergeant Barnes. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts are on the small couch to my left. There is a buzzing at the back of my head, my senses yelling at me. I ignore it as best I can, trying to listen to Mr. Stark when he starts to speak.

"So, I'm almost positive that you're all very curious as to why my intern would be invited to an Avengers dinner. Let's be honest, that's really weird. The truth is, Peter and I have something to tell you all. Peter is … well, kid do you want to tell them?"

"Yeah, uh … I …" I look out the window at the pitch darkness. "I'm … um … I'm Sp-" I stop again, closing my eyes against the high pitched screech that has become my spidey-sense, aware that everyone is staring at me again. "I'm … EVERYBODY GET DOWN!" I scream, grabbing Ms. Potts' hand from the couch over and jerking her to the floor.

Not a moment too soon; in the next second there is a resonating BOOM and glass is raining on us. The seat I used to occupy is now filled by an enormous chunk of sharp, mangled metal. I shield Ms. Potts with my own body, wincing at her cries and the cries of the others. There is another, smaller piece of metal that flies toward us, bashing into my head, making me see stars. We are still being pelted by glass and I groan as I feel a piece imbed itself in my left shoulder.

All of this happens in the span of a few seconds. There is a moment of silence as everything settles. I sit up, blinking away the lights in my eyes and starting to pull myself to my feet when I hear a loud creaking above us. Barely given time to react, I throw my arms up, catching the ceiling when it falls on us. My shoulder screams from the movement, the glass tearing its way through muscle and skin. My knees buckle, unprepared to carry the weight. I fall into a crouch, glass slicing through my pants and into my legs.

I hold the weight for what feels like hours but is probably only a minute. My arms are starting to shake when I begin to feel the weight lighten. I hear a grunt to my left and turn to see Captain Rogers crouching below the ceiling, pushing up. His face is covered in blood that dribbles from a cut above his eye. There are more grunts and groans as the ceiling becomes even lighter. I don't have the energy to look, but I assume that the others are also starting to lift.

Mr. Stark is to my right, wearing glasses that must be connected to Friday. I try to hear what he is saying but there is a ringing in my ears and he's too quiet. He must be giving her instructions because in the next second there are little palm sized drones swooping in through the now-open window. They spread themselves across the ceiling and start to propel the weight up.

There is a collective sigh of relief as the weight is taken off of everyone's shoulders. I pull myself to my feet, successful this time. It's barely been two minutes since the wall exploded. Ms. Potts is luckily unharmed, only little slices on her arms from falling glass. She takes the hand I throw out to her, shakily getting to her feet.

I feel dizzy, my head spinning, feet numb. My eyes are starting to blur when Ms. Romanoff speaks up. "Okay, what the actual f-"

The world tilts and everything goes black.

…

I hear voices. Loud voices.

"No, Tony! We can't move him!"

"So, what? He's just going to lie there for the rest of his life? He is going to bleed out if we don't treat him!"

"If we move him, that 6 inch chunk of glass will almost certainly slice his axillary artery. You're a smart guy; you know what happens when arteries are cut. Then what's going to stop him from bleeding out? Not to mention what could happen with shrapnel littering his entire body! You of all people should know how dangerous that can be!"

The voices are harsh in my ears, unfamiliar words swimming around my mind.

"Exactly! This whole place could come down in the next ten seconds, we need to get him out before that happens."

"We don't have the supplies to move him without jostling his shoulder! I am doing my best but we need to wait until actual doctors can get here!"

"I can move him," an accented voice cuts in, weaker than the others and more feminine.

"Wanda, no. You only just woke up. We don't know how reliable your powers will be right now. I don't want to risk it."

"I don't think that's the best idea…"

"I can do it. You can trust me," the voice insists.

"Wanda, maybe you should listen to them. Help is on the way and you have a concussion," another voice adds to the mix, calm and persuading. There's a loud creak from above us and the talking starts again.

"Sam, please. He just saved all of our lives. We can't just leave him here."

"He's right, we need to move him. This place is falling apart around us," a different female voice adds.

"Nat, you're not a doctor. I am not a doctor but I know enough not to move him with a piece of glass lodged right next to a major artery."

"DO YOU HEAR THAT? THAT IS THE SOUND OF AN ENTIRE BUILDING FALLING DOWN AROUND US! WE CAN'T WAIT ANY LONGER!" The second man is shouting, his words starting to jumble together.

I groan at the shout, my head pounding. My eyes refuse to open and there is a stinging sensation radiating throughout my body. I can feel my consciousness slipping away.

"I'm sorry Pete. We'll make it better soon. I promise, you're going to be fine. I won't shout anymore."

"Tony, Sam. Please, just let me move him!" The woman's voice is pleading.

"Wanda–"

The man is cut off by a series of loud crashes and I feel myself fall unconscious again.

…

The next time I wake up, there is silence. I can feel something soft underneath me, likely a bed. My eyelids are heavy, refusing to move. Almost every inch of my body itches and burns. I can feel the usual signs that tell me that my body is healing.

The silence from before is interrupted with the sound of a door opening. I can hear several pairs of feet walking across the floor, then the door closes again.

"Who is this kid, Tony? There is no way he's just your intern." The man's voice is deep and strained.

"We could have died if he wasn't there. I'm assuming you were going to tell us something about his apparent powers before the bomb went off. Why won't you tell us now? Don't you think we deserve that much?" My mind is starting to catch up. I can tell the person talking is a woman and she sounds slightly scary. Probably Ms. Romanoff then.

"I think you guys deserve to know everything. But for one thing, it's not my secret to tell, and for another … we don't know anything about the bombing. For all we know, it could be smarter and safer for everyone if we withhold this information for now. I'm not saying we'll never tell you, I just think I should discuss this with Peter before we make any decisions. Not to mention, half of our crew is out of commission right now and we all know how the others would react if I told you two and not them."

The room is silent again for a moment and I can feel myself waking up more. My hands start to twitch and my eyelids feel less heavy.

"You really care about this kid, don't you Tony?" I can almost hear the smile in Captain Rogers' voice.

"How could he not?" Ms. Romanoff asks. "The kid is adorable. And he can lift a building." She's smiling, too.

"Yeah, not to mention, he's one of the smartest people I know. He keeps up with me in the lab. Nobody else has ever done that. He never even looks confused, he's just effortlessly smart."

"He seems sweet, too. Seems like he has pretty good intentions."

"You have no idea Capsicle. I'm just happy I know him. He's a good kid."

I can feel myself start to blush at the praise. I figure I should probably let them know I'm awake.

I breathe in, slowly blinking my eyes open. I'm met with the image of Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and Natasha Romanoff sitting in chairs spread around a small room. They're all looking at me with mixtures of concern and curiosity.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," I say, my voice rough and quiet.

"Hey, Peter."

"Ms. Romanoff, Captain Rogers," I nod to them, my voice getting stronger with every word.

"How do you feel, kid?" Captain Rogers says. His voice is soft, soothing.

"I feel great!" I smile, ready to crack a joke back when I remember what happened. My smile drops in an instant. "How is everyone? How's Ms. Potts? Did anyone get hurt? What even happened?"

"Pepper is fine. Everyone is fine. There were a few concussions and lots of cuts, nothing too bad. Wanda and Rhodes are going to be down a little while. So will you. You took the brunt of it."

"I feel fine, Mr. Stark, but what happened? Did someone crash into the tower or something?"

"We're still not completely sure what happened. We know that the cleanup crew found something that resembled a bomb. They're doing tests right now to determine if that's what happened. We have no clue who planted it if that's what it was," Ms. Romanoff says.

"Oh." I have no idea what to say to that.

"Hey … do you think I could talk to the kid for a second? Alone?" Mr. Stark asks.

With pointed looks from everyone in the room, Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff leave, closing the door behind them.

"FRIDAY, do you think you could seal this room off from any eavesdroppers? Thanks."

"Where are we Mr. Stark?" I ask. We have to be somewhere that FRIDAY has control, but I seriously doubt that we're still in the tower.

"We're in a safehouse, just outside of Queens. I would have brought you to the Compound but that's way upstate. It would have taken hours to get you there and you needed immediate medical attention. So we decided that this was the best place. We don't usually come here, it's really only for emergencies. Besides, we don't know how safe Avengers affiliated things are right now. Especially after last night"

"Right, gotta keep it on the down-low."

"Yeah, you get it. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Spider-Man." He keeps his voice low, probably thinking of the enhanced people in the building. "Do you still think that it's a good idea to tell them? I'm not worried about any of them revealing your secret or anything. Not intentionally, at least. But this attack has made me nervous. There is probably some crazed lunatic out there that hates us, and I think it might be beneficial to have a secret weapon, something that no one knows. It might also keep you and May safe. It's your decision of course."

"But don't they already know I'm enhanced? I don't remember everything–and correct me if I'm wrong–but didn't I kind of hold part of a building for a while? Most people can't do that."

"They definitely suspect that you're enhanced. However, they seem to be under the impression that you are some other superhero. They haven't made the connection between you and Spider-Man yet. Now, that's not to say that they never will. This group is loaded with some of the smartest people alive. I'd be surprised if they didn't catch on soon anyway. I'm not telling you whether you should tell them or not. I'm just saying that the same pros still stand, but there might be new cons to consider."

"Well … they do deserve to know. I'm afraid that they won't be able to trust me fully if they don't know anything about me. Not to mention, they'll probably be more suspicious after the latest attempt on their lives."

"Kid, I honestly don't think you need to worry about them trusting you. You've already proven yourself to them as Spidey and today you proved yourself as Peter. I really think that if Peter Parker wanted to start training with us, he could. They would never even know that you're the same person."

"Oh, come on! You know that isn't true! First of all, they'd definitely notice if Spider-Man and I were never seen together. Secondly, I know for a fact that at least Ms. Romanoff, if not literally everyone, would be able to tell that we have exactly the same fighting style."

"Alright! Well, it's your choice. Tell, don't tell, I'm with you either way. I just know that you were pretty stressed about it before."

"I think that was mostly just my Spidey-Sense telling me something was effed-up." He gives me a look, clearly disapproving. "I think I'll tell them. When everyone is feeling better." He nods standing to leave. "Hey, speaking of feeling better, I feel—"

"No, you're going to wait until your doctor clears you to leave."

"Aw, come on Mr. Stark. I feel fine. I have Super healing!"

"I'll send in your doctor and if she says you can leave then you can leave. Until then, you are staying right there. No moving." His eyes are soft when he looks at me again. "Peter, you almost died. I know that wasn't your fault, but please, please—for my sake—don't make me worry about you right now. I need to know that you're okay."

"Ok, Mr. Stark."

"Come on, kid. We've talked about this. Friends and family call me Tony. You are both of those so please call me Tony." I nod, blushing. He leaves with a smile, coming back with a woman I assume is my doctor. "I'll be upstairs if you need anything," he says.

She talks to me for a few minutes, checking machines and reading papers. She looks at all of my wounds, even the tiniest of cuts. I think she's being overly thorough. Finally, after what seems like hours, she releases me, telling me to try not to move my shoulder too much, to be careful with my head, and to rest. She gives me a small bottle of pills, instructing me to take them only when I'm in pain. To be honest, I probably won't take them even then. Medicine scares me, especially since I don't know how it will react to my spider-y body.

Everything is sore. My arms ache when I move them and my legs hurt when I walk. On second thought, maybe I will end up taking those pills.

I find the elevator quickly, clicking the button for the main floor. To my surprise, there are only three floors listed. I started on B, and there were only two other floors to choose from.

When the elevator stops on the main floor with a pleasant sounding ding, I step into what appears to be a food court.

There are about ten different restaurants to choose from. They all smell amazing and I wonder how long ago that dinner was. I step towards what appears to be a pizza place when I suddenly remember why I'm here in the first place. I need to find … Tony. I force myself to think the name. I have to think it before I can say it.

Despite my hunger, I turn on my heel and step back into the elevator. I can eat later. I click the button for the second floor. When the doors open I'm met with an odd sight. To my left there's a large room filled with couches, chairs, tables, and a huge TV.

The TV is displaying a game of Mario Kart. Mr. Wilson, Mr. Barton, and Ms. Romanoff are sitting on a couch directly in front of the TV, shouting at each other and laughing, arguing over the game. There are other people littered around the room as well; Sergeant Barnes lounging in the far corner with a book, Captain Rogers doodling in the armchair closest to the TV, commenting on the game. I can see Ms. Maximoff with a bandage on her head, talking to Mr. Vision on the sofa. There are a few other people that I don't know, all in various stages of relaxation. There are even a few people napping.

I glance around the room again. No Tony.

Nobody looks up when the elevator dings shut and I'm left standing alone in a room full of people. Probably the most approachable of anyone in here would be Mr. Barton. He has kids and he's easy to joke around with. When you're Spider-Man, at least. Which, I remind myself, I am not Spider-Man at the moment. And he looks really into his game … maybe I should just sit and wait for Tony? He's gotta come here sometime. Right?

But I don't know if I'm even allowed in that room. What if I get in trouble?

"Peter!" I turn around to find Ms. Potts walking down a long corridor lined with doors. She's wearing sweats and a T-shirt, a shocking contrast to the business clothes I usually see her in. "Tony just sent me to find you! Have you had anything to eat? There are some great restaurants downstairs if you want me to show you. We all ate lunch a couple hours ago, but I'd be happy to take you." She stops in front of me, still standing next to the elevator. Up close, I can see tiny jagged cuts along her arms.

"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice strained with guilt.

"Am I okay? Peter, I'm fine. I'm more than fine, thanks to you. You should see yourself; you got really hurt back there." Her voice is filled with exasperation and concern. She shakes her head before continuing, "If you don't want to get any food, I can take you to Tony right now?"

I remember how hungry I felt earlier and I'm tempted to ask for some of that pizza, but I suddenly start feeling very nauseous and decide against it. "I think I'd rather just go see Tony? If that's okay?"

I can see her surprise at my use of his first name but she quickly brushes it off. She leads me down the long hallway and I notice doors on both sides. They remind me of a hotel corridor but the doors are different. Instead of the wide, thick, locked doors of most hotels, they appear to be normal. They just look like bedroom doors. But there are tons of them. Probably about a hundred.

Ms. Potts stops before a door about halfway down the hallway. "This is it," she says. "You're in the one across the hall." She points to the door behind us. "I'm going to be in the lounge if either of you need anything. Have fun!" Then she turns and walks back the way we came. The door opens before I can knock, and there's Tony.

"Kid! I take it your doctor cleared you to leave? Perfect! Let's go inside." He grabs my good arm and ushers me into his room. It's larger than I expected, about the size of my room back at the tower. His closet is open and clothes spill out, mostly sweats and t-shirts, but I can see two suits in the back. Both of them are still wrapped in plastic and I can tell one is smaller than the other, likely meant for Ms. Potts. In one corner of the room, I can see a table set up that is covered in tools, wires, and chunks of metal. I wonder what Mr. Stark is working on. His bed is unmade, clearly slept in. "FRIDAY, seal this room off from prying ears."

"Of course, sir."

"Thanks. So have you come to a decision? Are you going to tell them?"

"Um, I was thinking. What do you think about me telling, like, just a few of them and letting them share the news? I think, like, telling just Ms. Romanoff and Captain Rogers would be enough. The three of you are sorta the leaders anyways, right? So it might be, like, easier to hear from someone you already trust. And I think those two would find the best way to let the others know, without it being, like, this huge deal."

"You just said the word 'like' four times in the span of only six sentences but I think I get what you're trying to say. Why don't you want to just tell everyone? Wouldn't that be easier?"

"Okay, this might sound weird but I kinda just want to give them the chance to adjust to the fact that I'm Spider-Man without them having to put on a show because I'm watching. I'm also just sick of hiding it. From everyone at least. I mean, only four people know that I'm Spider-Man, but even just that relieved so much stress. I'm not saying I wanna tell the whole world, but I trust these people and I want them to trust me too. And I want to give them the chance to come to terms with me being Spider-Man before we actually talk about it. This probably doesn't make very much sense to you because everyone has kinda always known that you were Iron-Man. It was never really a secret. It's a big deal for me to tell them this."

"I understand. I mean, I can't relate, but I understand where you're coming from." He pauses for a moment, clearly thinking it over. "I'm fine with that. If that's what you want to do, I think we should start now."

"Okay, yeah. Let's do it."

"Do you want to be the one to tell these two or do you want me to? 'Cause I can do it, kid. If that's what you want."

"No, I can tell them. I'd like for you to be in the room, but I can be the one to actually say it."

"Are you gonna get them, or should I?"

"Um, you. It'd be weird if I, like, beckoned them to your room. I mean, I'm only your intern."

"Well, technically, interns do what their bosses say. And that includes 'beckoning people to my room'. But I'll let it slide. Just this once, since you're injured." He smirks before leaving the room.

Steve POV

I laugh as I watch Sam fall off of the rainbow road again. He lets out a string of profanities when Nat laps him. I listen to the three players banter, turning back to my sketchbook.

I was surprised at how well Tony had prepared this safe house, considering none of us even knew it existed until yesterday. Each of our rooms was decorated and stocked with things specifically for us. While Nat's bedside table was filled with a small arsenal of weapons as well as magazines and every Taylor Swift album that has ever existed (even including doubles of those Taylor's Version albums); mine had books from the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, and not one but two empty sketchbooks for me to fill, complete with about a hundred different kinds of pencils, markers, and colored pencils. For both of us, there was a king sized bed and a collection of exercise equipment.

My book isn't empty anymore, now filled with three and a half sketches of Nat, one each of Clint, Sam, and Bucky, and a few doodles of things I've found in the building. Natasha's side profile is coming along nicely and I'm just starting to blend when I hear Stark's voice from beside the elevator.

"Cap, Nat, I need to talk to you." He curls his finger, beckoning us to his side.

"Aw, cmon! We just started this game! Can't you let me finish? I need to beat Sam again!" Natasha says as I get up to follow Tony.

"Nat. You told me you wanted to have this particular conversation. If you want the information I have to give, you'll come with me. Now."

Natasha looks at him in surprise before putting her controller down and standing up to join Tony and me by the elevator. Sam and Clint both protest, sad to lose a player.

"Talk to you later, boys!" She speaks over them. The three of us walk down the long hallway, stopping in front of Tony and Pepper's room. Tony walks in first, shutting the door once we're all in the room.

"Sit down," he says, gesturing to the few chairs spread around the room. Peter is already there, sitting on the bed. He looks better than before, bruises already fading and cuts quickly mending.

"I understand you have something to tell us?" I say after everyone is seated. Peter looks pale, but not as nervous as he did at dinner last night.

He nods before speaking. "Um, you were both there when the building fell. You know I'm not normal." He swallows, face losing more color.

"We'd like to see you do more," Nat says. "We'd like to see what you can do in a less stressful situation, maybe?"

"That's the thing," Peter starts, letting out a lungful of air. "You already have." Nat and I share a look.

"What do you mean, son?" I ask.

"Um, I'm Spider-Man." Peter exhales sharply, eyes darting between Natasha and me.

There's a beat of silence before Nat and I both erupt with horrified questions. "How old are you?!" says Natasha.

"How old is he?!" I turn to Tony. How could he let this child fight with the Avengers like he has? We wanted to help him understand his powers, we never wanted to throw him into danger like Spider-Man has been.

"He's–"

"I'm 15. And a half. Why?"

"Why? What do you mean why? You're a child! You shouldn't be fighting with us right now!"

"Tony, how could you do this?" Natasha's voice is low and even I feel wary of her right now. "You don't bring children into war. You'd think that your friendship with me, with Wanda, would have reminded you of why we don't bring children into war."

"It was never my plan to bring him into war. Might I remind you of why I had to introduce you all to Spider-Man? Someone in this room had decided to rebel against our government and I needed numbers to try to convince him not to reintroduce a mass murderer into civilization!"

"Mass murderer?! You know that none of that was his fault!" I yell, rising to my feet. "You want to talk about murder?" Tony gets to his feet, too. Our voices overlap as we yell at each other. "What about all the weapons you made that were turned on innocent people?"

"And what? Your bestie is just allowed to kill whoever he wants? Good luck to everyone else?"

"What about-?"

"Settle down, boys! We've gone over this." Natasha steps between us. "We've all killed people. Innocents. We can't change the past, but we can choose our future. Don't start this again."

I sigh, cracking my neck before sitting back down in my chair. "My apologies. I was just surprised at the age of one of my peers."

"I think everyone will be," says Nat. She sighs. "You fight well. For your age." She smiles at Peter. "How long have you been doing this?"

"About a year and maybe seven months. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, then three weeks after that, my Uncle Ben was murdered." He pauses, clearly remembering that night. "I was right there. I could have done something. Helped somehow. But I didn't." He swallows again. "After that I just thought, since I have the ability to help, I have an obligation to help. So I spent a bunch of time just helping people around me. Then Tony showed up at my house and told me that I had to help him. I went to Germany and you know the rest."

"You want to help people? That's good. That's what we want." I say, still bitter about the previous conversation. I have to remind myself that I'm not angry with Peter. I wanted to help people when I was his age, too. "I suppose that begs the question, what can we do for you? Can we do anything to make this easier for you?"

"Uh, I actually do have a favor to ask. Do you think you two could tell the others about me? I don't really want to and you guys are, like, the leaders so I figured they'd take it well from you."

Nat and I look at each other. "We can do that," Nat says.

"When do you want us to tell them?"

"Just whenever. I figure it's high time you all knew, I just don't really want to make it a deal."

"Okay, we'll call a meeting after dinner tonight. Do you want Fury and Hill to know? Or just the Avengers?"

"Just the people who were at dinner last night," Tony cuts in. "So don't tell Scott and Hope. And even if you can get a hold of Thor or Bruce, don't tell them. I don't want anyone knowing this if they haven't fought by Peter's side. And no SHIELD agents. We don't know who we can trust."

"Do either of you want to be there when we tell them?"

"I should," Tony says. "I have a feeling I'm going to need to defend my actions once again."

"I don't think I will. It would kind of defeat the purpose of you guys telling them." Peter gives us an awkward smile.

"Hey! I need to talk to you!" Nat whacks her forehead, suddenly excited. "I can't believe you sat through dinner without speaking up! I wanted to talk to you about our last mission. I figured out why you were punched. You tend to protect any weapon or kick, but for some reason, you rarely block fists. Do you know why that is?"

"Yeah, actually," says Peter. Then he starts talking about something called a … 'Spidey-sense'? Their voices fade into the background as I look at Tony. He looks so happy watching this kid talk. He really loves him. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. Guilt.

I shouldn't have yelled at him.

Tony senses my eyes and looks my way. I tilt my head to the left and he nods. We both stand and Natasha is moving her hands around her face, talking about defensive moves and speed. Peter is enthralled by her lesson and neither of them see us leave.

Once we step into the hall, I sigh. "Tony, I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have yelled at you about Peter's age. That was really unfair of me."

Tony gives me a look before speaking. "I only get so defensive because I agree with you. He's way too young to be out there fighting like he is. He gets hurt. He misses things happening in his life so that he can be Spider-Man. He says that he wants to be like me. He says that he'd rather be Spider-Man than just some kid from Queens. And even when I tell him not to go out and fight … he does." Tony's eyes are misty. "So I encourage it. Because I'm selfish and when he's talking to me about Spider-Man, then at least he's talking to me. Y'know? I feel like I'd lose him if he stopped doing this.

"And I really did just want to give him an actual suit and train him up a little bit. Have some backup if I needed it. I had planned on just sending him back out there when I was done with him. I never planned on getting so attached to him. Now I can't imagine life without him. And Pepper's attached. And we know his aunt and his best friend. And he knows you guys." He sniffles. "He's seen this side. And he's never going to go back. Not willingly. And who am I to tell him he can't fight? I'm not his father and he was doing this for months before I contacted him. It's too late to change it. And that terrifies me. Every time he fights, alone or with us, I wonder if there's anything I could have done to prevent him from being put in this danger. I've never been so scared in my life."

"Tony. This isn't your fault. Maybe you could have changed something. Maybe something could have turned out differently. But he's still here and he's happy and everyone loves him. As Spider-Man and as Peter. The kid's amazing. And strong. I'm happy he's part of the team."

Tony nods after a moment before looking up at me. "Are we good?" he asks.

"Yeah, we're good." He sticks out his hand and we shake.

That night, after dinner, Natasha and I call a meeting. We tell the others about Peter. As expected, there are a few protests because of his age, mainly from Wanda. They're all overwhelmingly surprised that they never guessed that he was Spider-Man. Clint just sits silently, clearly confused at how he missed this, considering he's known for noticing things others don't. By the end of the conversation, the entire team is all for adding Peter to more training exercises and missions. We also decide that he should be fully informed of all past and current Hydra happenings to prevent future confusion.

The next morning, when Peter comes out of his room, he looks better than ever. His shirt barely reveals the bandage on his shoulder, the only reminder left from the bombing. We all eat breakfast together, chatting and getting to know him a little better. He obviously knows us all really well, but it's entertaining to learn more about his other life.

When we leave we start telling him how his training exercises are going to change, now that we're learning more about his abilities. Natasha stayed up for hours last night, preparing a unique workout for him. She also started making a list of his powers for us to work with and practice. She had me draw him in several positions so that she could analyze his combative abilities as well.

I'm a little surprised at how interested she is in Peter, as I've never known her to be very 'motherly'. Although, I suppose this could be described better as 'sisterly'. I've heard very little about her younger sister, only that she exists and Nat hasn't spoken to her in years.

Peter seems very interested in becoming an official Avenger, as long as he still gets to go to school.

By the time we've eaten lunch that day, Stark has determined that we can leave the safe house. Most of us weren't planning on staying so long anyway so the freedom is eagerly accepted. Nat and I are happy to get back to our apartment in DC.

The goodbyes are surprisingly jolly, considering we all almost died two days ago. There are a lot of hugs and smiles as we get ready to leave. I can't help but think about the fact that had Peter not been there, most or all of us could be dead or badly injured right now. I look at the love of my life talking to my two best friends and I feel such an intense wave of gratitude that I almost lose my footing. They could be gone right now. I owe him so much. We all do.

He's a little surprised when I give him a hug before leaving. "I didn't know we were here yet," he laughs.

"Thank you," I say. "We all owe you so much and I think with all of the new information we sort of forgot why we were here in the first place. You saved our lives and I really, really appreciate it. Not a lot of people can say they've saved the Avengers, but you certainly can."

"Oh, um, okay, Captain Rogers."

"Steve." He gives me an awkward smile before joining Pepper and Tony by the door. "I'll see you at the Compound in a week!" He gives me another smile, this one more confident as he grabs his jacket and leaves with the others.

"He's a nice kid," Sam says.

"Strong," adds Bucky.

"I think it's good that we're all getting to know each other a little better." Natasha gives me a smile.

One week later

Peter POV

"Kid, what did you do?" Tony grunts as he tugs on my hand. Once again, it's stuck to the wall.

"I just got excited about my first training session without my mask and I got stuck! I don't know; it just happened!" With one final tug from both of us, my hand breaks free, taking some of the concrete wall with it.

Tony chuckles before opening the locker room door. "Is this going to be a regular occurrence with you? I thought you had all of this under control!"

"I do! I just get a little overwhelmed sometimes and accidents happen. That's all!"

We chat as we walk into the training room, where everyone else is already gathered. "Geez, there you two are! Finally we can start," says Steve. I still have a hard time even thinking his name but he keeps insisting I call him that instead of Captain. I feel giddy watching him pair people off to practice sparring and strengthening.

"Sit still, kid, you're making me anxious," Tony whispers, giving me a nudge.

"Sorry, just excited."

"This isn't even close to your first training day. Calm down," he laughs.

"I can't! This one is special. Ms. Romanoff even has a whole sequence she wants me to learn. This is all new!"

"Yeah, yeah."

I keep quiet, knowing that no one but Ned will ever understand how big of a deal this is for me.

A huge smile spreads over my face when Steve calls out my name, pairing me with Natasha.

I, Peter Benjamin Parker, am training with the Avengers.

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