"Peter, be honest, did you just apply to college to have more free time?"
Shuri's voice cut through the concentrated silence of her lab in Wakanda. With delicate precision, she began manipulating the neural pathways of Vision, while Peter hovered nearby, hands at the ready to assist.
"What? No," Peter protested, his fingers aiding Shuri in her work of rearranging one neuron's trajectory, rerouting them into Vision's primary section, "You know me better than that."
Shuri arched an eyebrow skeptically, "Really? Because it's your first day at Columbia, and here you are, knee-deep in android neurosurgery."
A nervous chuckle slipped past Peter's lips, "Okay, fine, maybe I wanted a break from acads, but I couldn't pass up the chance to witness this. You're on the brink of creating the first fully sentient android!" His eyes darted between Shuri's scrutinizing gaze and the mind stone glowing brightly before them, "Plus, my dad said attendance isn't everything in Uni. He barely showed up to his own classes and still aced the exams."
Shuri paused, considering his explanation, "Fair point, but not everyone possesses your father's genius. But did he explicitly tell you that?"
Peter hesitated, then admitted, "No... I overheard it from Dean Reed during the wedding."
"Some professors do value attendance," Shuri cautioned with a tone firm yet gentle, "And classroom discussions can be fun and enlightening, you might miss out on invaluable perspectives and insights."
"Why are you guilt-tripping me?" Peter retorted, his brows knitting together as their hands continued their precise movements, "I'm helping you here."
"That's because I also lecture at Wakanda University and often share crucial information exclusively in my classes. During exams, those who consistently attend are the ones who truly grasp the material," Shuri explained.
"Thanks for the heads up, guilt trip successful," Peter conceded.
Shuri smiled, and as their eyes met, laughter bubbled up between them.
"Peter, we shouldn't be laughing," Shuri admonished, though her own laughter betrayed her.
"I didn't even say anything," Peter said with a grin.
"You're not helping, you're just prolonging this," Shuri teased.
"Come on, if I weren't here, you'd only have covered ten neurons. With my assistance, we've tackled twenty. Sure, there are about a trillion left, but hey, progress!"
Shuri laughed in disbelief, grateful for Peter's presence. What could have been a tense procedure transformed into a fun experience with a friend by her side.
"Peter?" Tony called out, he glanced at his watch and it's already 11am, remembering Peter's class scheduled for 1pm.
He stepped inside Peter's dimly lit room, the warm rays of morning sunlight filtering through the blinds. With a gentle sigh, he approached his son's bed, where Peter lay still cocooned in blankets.
Tony observed his son's peaceful face, illuminated by the soft glow of sunlight. A small droplet of drool escaped from Peter's parted lips, staining the white pillow beneath him. Tony couldn't help but smile at the sight. Gently, he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from Peter's forehead with touch tender and affectionate.
Returning from his honeymoon with Pepper mere days ago, he found out that Peter had returned from Wakanda an hour earlier than them and he hadn't seen his son venture out since then.
"Peter," Tony's voice was gentle but insistent as he nudged his son awake, though Peter's eyelids still fluttered in protest, "Don't you have a class to attend? Have you ever seen what Columbia looks like?"
"Dad, I'm still drained from Wakanda," Peter said, his words almost lost amidst the drowsiness, "Imagine rerouting trillions of neurons in a new trajectory... a million alone feels exhausting."
"I know, Vision and Wanda can't thank you both enough," Tony replied with a sense of pride lacing his words, "I guess you've outgrown the need for a degree, anymore, don't you? After all, you're practically an expert in Android Neurosurgery now."
Peter's bleary eye cracked open, suspicion dripping in his gaze. "Are you attempting reverse psychology on me?"
Tony couldn't help but smirk. Every word he spoke was sincere, yet he also knew his son well enough to recognize the spark of competitiveness within him, "It's not an attempt if it's working."
With a groan, Peter dragged himself upright from the embrace of his bed, moving with an effortless back flip toward the bathroom.
After an indulgent hour of showering and brunching, the air was thick with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the remnants of their casual catching up and laughter. The sunlight poured through the windows, casting a glow over the cozy kitchen where Peter and Tony lingered.
"You gonna take your Spidermobile?" Tony asked, his voice carrying through the relaxed atmosphere as Peter bid goodbye with a peck on the cheek.
"Nah, I've got time. Haven't stretched my legs since I got here. I'll walk."
"Alright, take care, kid, or rather, let's hope they stay safe from you." Tony's words were laced with fondness and playful teasing, "Want me to pick you up later?"
"Hilarious," Peter retorted with sarcasm, though a knot of worry tightened in his stomach as he stepped into the elevator, "But seriously, Dad, don't pick me up from Uni."
Tony laughed, the sound echoing down the corridor. "No promises," he said, his voice filled with mischief, before adding softly, "I love you."
Peter chuckled, turning around to see his Dad's smile. The warmth of affection washed over him, soothing his nerves.
"I love you, Dad," he replied, returning the smile, just before the doors slid shut.
Peter stepped out of the glass doors of the Tower, his face radiant with a grin that seemed to illuminate the entire street. The sunlight danced off the skyscrapers, casting vivid hues across the city below.
"It's good to be back," he breathed, pausing amid the bustling cityscape. With a deep inhale, he savoured the subtle scent of urban freshness lingering in the air. Above, the sky stretched out in a flawless expanse of blue, while below, the city pulsed with life— cars zipping by, horns blaring in the distance, and the occasional wail of an ambulance weaving through the traffic.
Closing his eyes, he surrendered himself to the moment, until a sudden jostle brought him back to reality,
"Watch it, kid! Can't just stop in the middle of the sidewalk," scolded a passerby in a hurry.
Smiling to himself, he mused, "Well, that's New York for you, Peter," before setting off on an hour-long trek to Uni.
As he reached the thirty-minute mark, waiting for the pedestrian signal to turn green, the digital timer ticking down, a surge of awareness rippled through him, tingling every nerve, triggering what he had come to call his, "Peter tingle," he winced, correcting himself, "Spider tingle."
His eyes darted around the intersection, and there, amidst the rubble of the recently demolished Shady Acres care home, he spotted two figures. One was unmistakably blonde with a bodybuilder physique, a sight that immediately sparked recognition in Peter's mind.
"No way," Peter said under his breath.
The traffic light flickered to green as if on cue, urging him forward.
With a surge of excitement, he dashed across the road towards the familiar figures.
"Uncle Thor!" Peter exclaimed, his voice carrying across the street, catching the attention of the two figures.
"And Loki..." he added, almost breathless with disbelief.
Before he could even process the situation fully or fret about whether he had his suit stowed away in his backpack, he found himself standing before the two otherworldly beings. Despite his initial shock, he couldn't detect any hint of hostility from Loki.
Thor squinted at him, a puzzled expression crossing his features, "Uh, who are you?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of suspicion.
"It's me, Peter."
"No, no, Peter is this tall," Thor gestured, indicating a much shorter height, "and a smaller face with those enormous doe eyes— quite adorable. You, you're a teenager."
Peter stepped closer, prompting Thor to scrutinize him more closely. Finally, recognition dawned on Thor's face as he compared Peter's features to those of the boy he once knew.
"Peter! Our young scion!" Thor exclaimed, enfolding Peter in a bear-like embrace that threatened to lift him off the ground. "You've grown! How did you become this big?"
While observing the reunion, Loki stood with arms crossed over his chest. "A child cannot remain a child forever," he said, a sardonic smirk dancing upon his lips. "Except you, brother, of course."
"Shut up, brother." Thor shot back.
Peter interjected, "What brings you here? You've finally returned. You missed the wedding though, it was last month. You and Dr. Banner were the only ones missing."
"Who got married?"
"Dad and Pepper."
"Really? Your dad finally tied the knot, huh. I've been occupied helping different worlds, Peter. We're here because we're looking for our father."
"Odin's on Earth?" Peter exclaimed in disbelief.
"Apparently my troublesome brother," Thor shot Loki a pointed glare, "left our father here, but as we can see..." Their attention turned to the demolished care home before them. "Can you help us?"
"Of course," Peter agreed, realizing he was going to miss another class, "We need to go to the tower, tracking systems are there and Dad's also there. We'll call the gang from the compound. They'll be thrilled!"
"Great! I can't wait," Thor grinned.
"But uh… I don't think he's allowed," Peter added, their gaze turning towards Loki.
Just then, a swirling vortex materialized beneath Loki, swallowing the god into oblivion.
"What just happened?" Peter said, incredulous at how this day couldn't possibly get any stranger.
In a second, a figure stepped forth from another swirling depths of a magical portal,
"Hello, Peter," resonated a suave, masculine voice, carrying an air of mystique and authority.
Peter blinked in surprise, "Dr. Strange? Why— why are you wearing a costume? And what's that? You can do magic now?"
"Come with me, Let's talk," Strange said to them. Thor planted himself firmly, not budging an inch until Strange revealed, "I have your brother." Even then, Thor hesitated, but when Strange added, "I know where your father is."
"Could've started with that," Thor said as he followed Peter through the portal without a second thought.
As soon as the portal sealed shut behind them, they found themselves in a rustic, museum-like mansion bathed in a soft, dim light that filtered through stained-glass windows. The interior exuded an air of antiquity, every corner seemed to whisper secrets of centuries past, while a grand staircase commanded attention at the heart of the space.
Peter couldn't contain himself, blurting out, "I have so many questions." his eyes darting around the room.
"Yes, I'll answer all of that," Strange assured Peter before turning his attention to Thor, "But first, you god of thunder, we need to talk. I have some questions for you."
"So Midgard has wizards now?" Thor said with a mocking grin.
"Preferred term is 'Master of the Mystic Arts'," Strange replied with a hint of weariness, gesturing towards an umbrella stand. "You can hook your umbrella over there."
Before Peter could voice another question, his attention was drawn to the absence of a certain mischief-maker. "Where's Loki?" he chimed in.
With a fluid motion, Doctor Strange's hands weaved through the air, conjuring a swirling portal above. From its depths emerged Loki, hurtling and screaming until gravity caught him, sending him crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.
"I have been falling for 10 minutes," Loki exclaimed in frustration, his silver tongue laced with annoyance.
"It could've been 30 if Peter hadn't asked. Thank the kid," Strange quipped, a smirk dancing on his lips as Thor chuckled beside him. And with a flash of light, they vanished into thin air, leaving Loki to stew in his indignation.
Loki spun around, his gaze ablaze with fury as he composed himself.
"How dare that second-rate sorcerer treat me like that?" Loki seethed, his voice dripping with venom.
Peter couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the dramatic display, though he quickly masked it with a cough when he caught Loki's piercing glare.
"Aren't you even the slightest bit afraid of me?" Loki demanded.
"Nah," Peter replied casually, scanning the room filled with ancient books and artifacts. His attention settled on a striking red coat suspended in mid-air. "I suppose Dr. Strange left this coat to keep an eye on us," he said, approaching it. As he reached out, the coat responded with a friendly gesture, shaking his hand, and surprising Peter. "Impressive," he said, examining it closely for any signs of advanced technology behind it.
"I threw your father off the side of the building," Loki's voice ripped through the silence from behind him.
"Yeah, not cool," Peter replied glaring over at Loki before striding over to the fireplace surrounded by numerous old clocks.
"I tried to use the mind stone at him but it didn't work."
"It really won't," Peter turned to face Loki with a serious expression, "My dad once mentioned that Grandpa drew inspiration for the design of the arc reactor from the Tesseract. The arc reactor powering Dad harnesses a level of energy comparable to the Tesseract itself. So, trying to pit the power of the Mind Stone against that? It's pointless. It can withstand its power, trust me we've tested it, maybe even surpass it."
Peter grabbed a book from a nearby table, dust rising in the air, "Jeez, this place is gathering dust. Doesn't Dr. Strange ever clean up?"
Loki's gaze tracked Peter's movements, a subtle smirk playing on his lips, "So Stark remains ensnared by his obsession with that suit of armour."
Peter's tone turned solemn, "Lot has happened over the years."
Loki's expression darkened with a pang of guilt as he settled into one of the chairs, his voice sincere as he uttered a quiet, "Thank you."
A flicker of surprise crossed Peter's face, quickly replaced by a wide grin as he exclaimed, "Wow," his eyes locking onto Loki's, "The god of mischief genuinely expressing gratitude. Finally turning over a new leaf?"
Loki's lips curled into a proud, devilish smile, the glint of ambition still shimmering in his eyes like flickering flames. "Not exactly," he purred, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I now reign over Asgard, my statue towering above the realm. I've become their saviour, the one who sacrificed himself for their salvation."
Peter's brows furrowed in disbelief. "Jesus."
Loki's grin widened, a mischievous gleam dancing in his gaze. "Indeed, he's been quite the inspiration."
Peter's words carried a hint of wistfulness as he mused, "You know if you weren't so treacherous, you and Dad might've actually gotten along."
At that moment, Dr. Strange and Thor materialized. Doctor Strange stood poised with an air of confidence, while Thor rolled down the stairs, quite literally.
"We could've just walked," Thor said, dusting himself off as he regained his footing.
Meanwhile, Dr. Strange conjured yet another portal, its swirling vortex opening onto the grassy summit of a mountain. Thor expressed his gratitude to the sorcerer before facing Peter,
"You've grown quite well, young Stark," Thor said with a warm smile, giving Peter a friendly nudge on the shoulder, "Send my congratulations to Tony and my regards to the team, will you? I'll try to find Banner once we get back to Asgard. Perhaps next time, I shall bring you along, or you can regale me with Midgard's latest games upon my return."
Peter chuckled softly, "Of course, Uncle Thor. Good luck with your Dad." His gaze flickered to the umbrella stand nearby, "Oh, your umbrella."
With a fluid motion, Thor reached for the umbrella hanging on its hook, lifting it with his powers and flying over at him.
Loki, nodding at Peter, held a glint of respect in his eyes with a subtle smile.
As the two brothers stepped into the portal, Peter waved goodbye, curiosity piquing as he turned to the wizard, "So, what house are you in?"
Strange let out a resigned sigh, Peter answered his own question, "Slytherin, right?"
Unable to resist Peter's antics, Strange finally relented with a faint smile, "I'm actually Ravenclaw."
Peter's smirk widened knowingly, "Really? I could've sworn the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin." His gaze then sharpened, "And about the wedding, Dad made sure to send you an invitation."
"I was in Hong Kong," Strange explained, his tone heavy with significance, "There were pressing matters at hand, matters of world-saving importance. Without my intervention, there might not have been a wedding at all."
Peter nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes, though he couldn't help pointing out, "Dr. Palmer was at the wedding with her boyfriend."
The name slipped from Strange's lips like a sigh, infused with a blend of longing and surprise. "Christine…" he breathed, his brows furrowing. "She has a boyfriend now?"
Peter caught the fleeting shadow that darkened Strange's eyes momentarily as Dr. Palmer's name surfaced. He silently regretted broaching the subject. "Oh, look at the time," he said, stealing a quick glance at his watch, "I'm late for my class. It was nice catching up, Dr. Strange, but I need to run."
Grabbing his backpack from a nearby chair, he realized his suit was missing, dissolving his chance to swing over buildings to get to his school faster.
"Where did I leave it?" His mind raced to the last place he remembered wearing it. "It must be back at the compound."
Making a mental note to ask for it later from whoever was at the compound now, he asked, "What street are we on?"
"Bleecker Street," Strange answered.
"We've gotten quite far from Columbia. I really need to hurry," Peter said, slinging his backpack onto his back.
Strange's voice softened, "Peter, please send your father my apologies."
"I'm sure he'll understand. He'll be surprised to hear you're a wizard now, and apparently saved the wedding," Peter said with a chuckle, exchanging a smile with Strange as he headed towards the doors, "But seriously, teach me your magic tricks next time."
"Peter."
"Yeah?"
"Exit's here."
As Peter turned, his eyes widened with delight at the sight of Strange's conjured portal, unveiling the Alma Mater sculpture framed by the columns of the Low Memorial Library,
"Sweet. Appreciate it, Doc," he said as he dashed towards the portal.
"Study smart," Strange called out with a smile as Peter disappeared through the portal.
As Peter entered the Pym Lecture Hall for his Quantum Chemistry class, he was immediately struck by the sheer number of students crammed into the space. Over a hundred faces filled the room, each chair occupied as if it were a bustling amphitheatre rather than a typical lecture hall.
Doubt flickered through his mind as he double-checked his schedule, confirming that he was indeed in the correct room. Yet, according to his LMS, there should have only been fourteen students enrolled in this course.
Pushing aside his confusion, Peter made his way to the back of the hall and settled into a seat. The atmosphere was a blend of hushed waiting and subdued chatter. While most of the students remained quiet, a murmur of conversation danced through as some already-established friendships bubbled with silent exchanges.
Peter whipped out his phone and casually tapped his phone screen. After a few rings, Steve's voice broke through with a tone tinged with concern.
"Peter. Is there something wrong?"
"Yeah, would you mind checking my suit if it's there at the compound? I think I might've forgotten it there."
"I don't mind," Steve reassured him, "For sure it's around here somewhere. I'll bring it to you."
"That'd be great. Thanks, Uncle Steve." Peter said gratefully, relief flooding his voice.
"Anytime, Peter." came the warm response from the other end before the call ended.
As Peter's smile lingered, a sudden puzzlement crept into his mind. Were they on the same page about where 'I'll bring it to you' was? cause he was thinking of the Tower and not here at Uni.
He was just about to redial Steve to clarify when a voice interrupted his thoughts from the chair beside him, catching him off guard,
"Fuck me…"
Peter's heart lurched in his chest, his hand freezing on the phone. He turned slowly, disbelief etched on his face as he tried to process the unexpected words,
"What? Did you just say—" His voice trailed off, swallowed by the sight of the boy beside him, possessing a chiselled jawline sharper than his own, angular cheekbones, a pointed nose that seemed sculpted by the gods, and eyes— those eyes, an intense shade of green that seemed to draw him in, probably the most beautiful he'd ever seen, their intensity almost magnetic. This boy could honestly pass as a celebrity or a model.
The boy's voice sliced through Peter's thoughts like a knife, yanking him back to the present moment. "Are you wearing Zegna, from head to toe?"
Peter blinked, momentarily thrown off as he caught himself, wincing at his own involuntary appraisal of the boy's appearance before glancing down at his own attire– a crisp white polo shirt, tailored chore jacket, trousers, and sneakers. Sure, it's just an outfit he'd thrown together casually, but yes, it was Zegna.
"Uhh… What are you, the fashion police?" Peter quipped, attempting to deflect the sudden scrutiny.
The boy's next remark, delivered with matter-of-fact precision, caused Peter's eyebrows to arch in surprise. "Your outfit alone could foot a 10k bill, and those glasses looked like Iron Man's…"
Peter's finger absentmindedly traced the sleek contours of his glasses, adjusting them to perch perfectly on the bridge of his nose. Indeed, this piece of technology, finely tuned to his senses, might have cost more than a million, but its true value lay beyond monetary measure, it was a priceless creation that he and his father had conceptualized together.
The boy then added, "What are you old money or something?"
A flicker of realization lit up Peter's eyes, "You really are the fashion police. I usually just pick out whatever matches from my closet, my mom handles all the shopping. Sometimes designers swing by the penthouse," he added casually, as if he were simply sharing mundane information with a friend.
"Designers come to your front door?" The boy's confusion knit his brow deeper, "Who are you?"
"Who are you?" Peter countered, placing greater emphasis on his question, "Are you somehow related to Uncle Steve? I mean Steve Rogers, Captain America? You share some physical similarities."
A smug grin crept onto the guy's lips, arrogance glinting in his eyes. "I get that a lot. Even asked my sister about it, but we're not related. I've even had fans tell me when I'm cosplaying him at Avengers Con that we don't look alike at all because I'm more handsome than him."
Peter fought the urge to roll his eyes at the exaggerated display of confidence, instantly regretting his curiosity about any physical resemblance. "Right," he said, forcing a polite nod.
Johnny's smile widened, savouring the attention evoked by the memory, before redirecting his gaze toward Peter. "But hey, look who's talking. You've got that Stark vibe, like a younger version of Tony Stark himself. Wanna come with me to Avengers Con? You'd be a crowd favourite with that look."
Peter couldn't help but chuckle. "Tony Stark? He's my dad."
"Your Dad— Oh…" Recognition flooded the guy's face, his eyes widening with a mix of astonishment and realization.
"Peter Stark," Peter said, extending his hand, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Johnny Storm," the stranger introduced himself, clasping Peter's hand firmly.
With a teasing smirk, Peter leaned back in his chair, "Are you sure you're on the right course? I heard Fashion majors are over in the far west building."
A subtle grin tugged at the corners of Johnny's lips, "Funny you mention that. I've often wondered the same thing myself." He let out a soft chuckle, "I unexpectedly got accepted into my first-choice program here at Columbia, Astrophysics. And my sister, Sue," he paused, a wry smile playing on his lips, "basically threatened to disown me if I don't get my shit together."
Peter squinted in curiosity, his smirk fading. "Sue? Are we talking about Dr. Susan Storm?"
"Yeah," Johnny confirmed with a nod, a hint of pride in his voice. "She's my sister."
The pieces fell into place as Peter noticed the shared features between Johnny and the renowned professor, "I first met her at Dad's wedding. Her work with Dr. Reed's was something else."
"Yeah, they're kind of a big deal around here," Johnny said as he relaxed in his chair, "She didn't miss a beat trying to make me jealous though when they went home after that wedding boasting they had a free concert of different artists at the reception, while I was stuck babysitting their child playing dress up like we're in broadway."
Peter laughed, "Guess we could've met by then if you came. You could've even met the Avengers."
Johnny sighed in frustration, brushing his face. "I hate being the sitter."
Peter's expression then turned skeptical as he voiced his doubts, "Anyway, is this even allowed? You, as a student here in this class? She's our professor in this subject."
"Oh, don't worry about it," Johnny's reassurance seeped with confidence, "She'd sooner give me a zero than a passing grade."
Peter couldn't help but chuckle at Johnny as their professor for the day strolled in, but it wasn't Dr. Sue—it was none other than Dr. Henry Pym, who settled his belongings on the table. Peter's mouth hung agape in astonishment. So, this explains the unusual presence of students in the room. He silently thanked his dad for waking him up and nudging him to attend class. He also felt a twinge of gratitude towards Dr. Strange for not letting him be late.
With a genial smile, Pym greeted the room, "Good afternoon, everyone. My apologies for the slight delay. As you may already be aware, I'll be your guest lecturer for today on Quantum Chemistry."
Leaning against the table, he addressed the class with firmness in his voice, "Let me be clear, this isn't a basic course on fundamentals. If that's what you're looking for, I suggest you leave now through those doors. We're diving headfirst into Quantum Mechanics, and I won't tolerate anyone dozing off in the middle of this four-hour lecture."
A heavy silence enveloped the classroom like a thick fog, amplified by the departure of most students, leaving only half behind. The air seemed charged with tension as those who remained braced themselves for what promised to be an intense session.
Peter shifted in his seat, stealing a glance at Johnny. He found himself waiting, half-expecting Johnny to rise and leave like the others, but to his surprise, Johnny remained seated.
A grin tugged at the corners of Peter's lips, his eyes mirroring the infectious smile that graced Johnny's face.
Johnny leaned in beside him, "Surprised I'm sticking around?"
Peter chuckled as he met Johnny's gaze head-on. "Just a little. You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
Johnny shrugged, nonchalant yet brimming with playful energy, "You have no idea."
As the lecture began, Peter couldn't help but wonder what stories lay beneath that confident exterior, what secrets echoed in the depths of those expressive eyes. Yet he brushed aside those thoughts and focused on the lecture instead.
Minutes stretched into an hour and a half, and Peter noticed Johnny beginning to doze off beside him, emitting soft snores. He nudged him lightly with his leg, whispering, "Hey, pretty boy," mindful of being on the brink of being noticed. He was about to nudge Johnny again when Dr. Pym's commanding voice slashed through the room.
"You!" Dr. Pym pointed at them.
"Me?" Peter feigned innocence.
"No, the one on your right. Wake him up."
Turning to Johnny, Peter nudged him more strongly with increasing urgency, causing the boy to startle awake,
"What?" Johnny mumbled, his voice thick with drowsiness as he turned to meet Peter's gaze. Following Peter's nod, Johnny's bleary eyes flicked toward the figure ahead and then widened with recognition as they fell upon Dr. Pym. A surge of realization coursed through him, banishing the remnants of sleep.
"Dr. Pym," he exclaimed, straightening up with a sudden sense of alertness.
"What is your name?"
"Johnny. Johnny Storm."
"Ah, Sue's brother. She mentioned you'd be here. Wouldn't want your sister hearing you're sleeping in my class, right?"
A wave of embarrassment washed over Johnny as he replied, "No, Sir."
"Now, Johnny, let's see if you were just resting your eyes or actually paying attention. How does the uncertainty principle in quantum mechanics affect our ability to measure the position and momentum of particles?"
"Uh…" Johnny stammered, feeling the weight of Pym's gaze bearing down on him. He stole a quick glance at Peter, who was furiously writing notes beside him.
"Come on, I just explained this a moment ago," Pym prodded, his tone tinged with annoyance. "If you've had the guts to sleep in my class despite my warning, then you probably already knew the answer to this."
Johnny swallowed nervously, his mind racing for a response. Just then, Peter discreetly revealed his tablet, tapping it. Johnny's eyes widened in relief as he recited the answer as if it were his own.
"The uncertainty principle," he began, regurgitating Peter's words, "states that it's impossible to precisely measure both the position and momentum of a particle simultaneously. This inherent limitation in quantum mechanics sets boundaries on our ability to accurately determine these properties, fundamentally altering classical notions of deterministic measurement."
"Excellent," Pym said, his tone softening slightly, "You may sit down. And don't forget to thank your seatmate for that answer."
The classroom erupted in laughter, but Johnny barely heard it over the rushing of blood in his ears.
As Johnny took a seat, he instinctively clutched his chest, feeling the tension draining from his body. "You just saved my life," he whispered to Peter, exhaling deeply. "Thank you."
Peter chuckled, covering his mouth with a smirk, "You're welcome," he whispered back.
Throughout the lecture, Johnny's battle against his drooping eyelids intensified with each passing minute. He struggled to keep his gaze fixed on the professor, his eyelids feeling heavier with every blink. Desperate to stay awake, he scribbled notes, the scratch of his pen against paper a sound amidst the monotony of the lecture hall.
Despite his efforts, the concepts seemed to slip through his grasp like sand through his fingers. Yet, he clung to the hope that his innate aptitude for science would eventually pull him through, reassuring himself that he would unravel the complexities later, once he could muster the energy to engage fully.
Glancing sideways, he observed his seatmate, who seemed to embody the antithesis of his struggle. Peter listened intently with a relaxed demeanour, effortlessly absorbing the material and calmly jotting down notes as if it was as natural to him as breathing.
"Must be nice," Johnny said during the fifteen-minute break, "Being able to grasp all of these easily." gesturing at the plethora of quantitative formulas sprawled across the blackboard, filling it almost entirely.
Peter looked up from his notes, a reminiscent smile playing on his lips, "My after-school hours were like these lectures, revolving around engineering, computer science, chemistry, and physics since I was four. But instead of a classroom, it was our lab, and my Dad as the lecturer. Being warm and fuzzy wasn't really his style when it came to teaching his expertise especially when I entered high school, trust me."
Johnny's eyes widened in amused disbelief, "Wow, I thought you'd be more humble about it, but nice flex."
With a chuckle, Peter leaned back, "What I mean to say is, I've had years of exposure around these topics. It's normal to not get these concepts on the first go. Your ability to understand even half of it is impressive. Don't sell yourself short, pretty boy," punctuating his words with a wink.
Johnny playfully clutched his chest, as if struck by Cupid's arrow, "Old money, quit winking at me with those words, you smooth talker. I might just fall for you."
With a laugh, Peter crumpled a paper and aimed it at Johnny, "You rascal."
Johnny's grin widened, "But I'm digging that nickname you've given me. It suits me. I am indeed pretty," he said, batting his eyelashes in a comically exaggerated manner.
Peter chuckled as he observed Johnny. Despite the slight physical resemblance to Steve, their personalities couldn't have been more different.
Peter was about to go back to his notes when Johnny's gaze landed on the Spider-Man keychain dangling from Peter's backpack. It caught the light, glinting momentarily as if winking at Johnny,
"Nice keychain," Johnny said, his attention drawn to the familiar emblem, "So you're also a fan of Spider-Man, huh?"
Peter's attention snapped to Johnny's gaze, his brow furrowing with curiosity. "Huh? Ah, yeah, yeah…" he said absentmindedly. It was just another version of his spider tracer, a failsafe to ensure he wouldn't forget his bag again somewhere.
Johnny showed his own Spider-Man keychain from his bag, "I have the same but not so techy as yours. Where'd you buy that? I've seen the best merchandise of Spider-Man here in the city and never seen that."
Peter let out a nervous smile, "This is probably the last one in that shop in Fifth," he lied, then, with a subtle change in tone, he attempted to deflect the topic, "How'd you become a fan of Spider-Man anyway?"
It caught Peter off guard to see the sudden glint in Johnny's eyes. "He actually already saved my life twice. The first time was when he stopped a school bus in Queens."
Peter's mind raced, memories flashing back to his early days as Spider-Man. "But that was a bus full of kids."
"Yes, it was my niece's bus, actually. I just hitched a ride," Johnny explained, his tone nonchalant yet tinged with gratitude.
"Oh…"
"How'd you know that it was full of kids?" Johnny's eyes narrowed with curiosity.
"I just saw it on YouTube," Peter replied casually, though inwardly marvelling at how better he'd gotten at lying about his alter-ego.
"Then the second one, when he saved me from a speeding car in Times Square."
"Wait, that was you?" Peter leaned in, his brow furrowing at the memory. "The one who's texting on his phone with headphones on while crossing the street and didn't even hear the shouts of people or the sirens of police?"
"That was insanely detailed but yes," Johnny's grin widened, a glimmer of pride shining through despite his mishap. His curiosity then heightened, "How'd you know?"
"It was replayed on the news," Peter said, momentarily closing his eyes in disbelief relieving the memory. The car that had hit the billboard had been a result of him getting caught up and needing to save the boy, whom he now recognized as Johnny. He then added, "That was also insanely stupid."
Johnny's smile reflected the glint in his eyes. "I know, if it weren't for him, I wouldn't still be here. I owe him my life. If he saves me a third time, I might just fall in love with him."
Peter's breath caught in his throat, his mouth hanging open slightly as he processed Johnny's words, the only sound was the soft hum of the projector in the background.
His fans are really getting crazier these days, he thought.
It was a good thing Dr. Pym continued the lecture, sparing him from having to respond to that statement. The lecture continued for another hour, and as it came to an end, Johnny turned to Peter,
"Got another class lined up? Wanna hang out?"
Peter smiled apologetically, "I'm free, but I've got some questions for Dr. Pym. Sorry, man. Hey, let me have your phone a sec."
As Johnny handed it to him, Peter swiftly listed his phone number before returning it.
Johnny's laughter filled the air, "Did you really just give me your number?" His playful tone danced in the space between them, "You really are a player." With a wink, he promised, "Fine, baby, I'll give you a call." Stepping back, he braced himself as Peter's backpack nearly soared toward him.
"Catch you later," Johnny waved before turning to leave.
Peter returned the wave before making his way down to the lecturer stage.
As the last of the students exited, Pym spoke before Peter could approach, arranging his belongings on the table, "You're not really helping your friend by giving him the answers he doesn't know. You're just teaching him to depend on you."
"He at least understands the topic already," Peter replied, catching Pym's glance.
"I'm Peter Stark, Dr. Pym. Big fan of your invention with the Pym Particles," Peter said, his eyes bright with admiration as he met one of his scientific idols in Biochemistry.
"I know. Scott and Cassie were very fond of you," Pym acknowledged, "Though it seems you may lack the arrogance your father and grandfather had, but still—" scrutinizing Peter closely, "…reckless."
Peter's lips curled into a gentle smile as he cast a fleeting glance downwards, tacitly affirming the observation.
Pym continued, "You're not planning to replicate my formula, are you? Your grandfather's attempt at that destroyed our relationship, which could have been a lifelong friendship."
Peter's eyes widened. "No, Dr. Pym, never. Scott ensured its security whenever he was at the compound, and we hold too much respect for you to repeat my grandfather's mistakes."
"Good." Pym smiled, "Now, how can I help you? I doubt you're just here to exchange pleasantries with an old man."
Peter smiled as he reached for his Starkpad in his backpack.
"I've been brewing up this idea since the start of summer, and I've already got the initial formulas for my own particles—"
"Your own particles?" Pym said, surprised.
"Yes, it's a hyperkinetic form of energy," Peter explained, stepping closer to Pym to showcase the research on his Starkpad, which Pym examined closely. "There isn't much-existing research on this, so I was hoping you could provide some insight."
"That's right. My expertise typically lies in quantum particles, but what you're proposing seems more like tapping into cosmic energy, Peter. That's directly tied to the expansion of the universe," Pym said with fascination.
"You may have inherited your parents' inventive genius. This could be the first research I've encountered delving into harnessing the power of the cosmos. It can be revolutionary," Pym declared, a glimmer of pride evident in his eyes. Yet, he quickly added a note of caution, "But it's also potentially dangerous."
He continued, "I've also heard about your mother's research that granted you your current abilities and if it hadn't been for your father's intervention, it could have ended disastrously. You don't want to repeat the same mistakes here," Pym warned, his expression serious.
A cloud passed over Peter's features as he mulled over the precautions. Dr. Pym was right. If he wasn't careful, it would be as if he hadn't learned anything from history. His Mom, Stepdad, Aunt May, and Uncle Ben had paid the price for his mother's research. He couldn't make the same mistake with his loved ones.
"I'm not saying to shut it down. What I'm urging is a cautious approach," Pym emphasized. "Study the risks and simulate countless scenarios, before even attempting to get your hands dirty with these. You know the drill. You also might want to consult your father on this one or more likely your Dean Reed, this might be more of his expertise."
With a reassuring nudge to Peter's shoulder, Pym conveyed his support as he probed him with a series of thoughtful questions before they prepared to leave.
"You're not really gonna move the seat?"
Bucky's voice echoed from the back seat of the vintage convertible, carrying a death glare that seemed to pierce through the rearview mirror.
Meanwhile, Sam, riding shotgun, lounged cooly and unfazed, "No."
Steve leaned his back against the car, observing the students leisurely strolling the quadrangle. His gaze swept over the columns of the Low Memorial Library and the constant flow of people in and out of Earl Hall.
"Cap, how long is this going to take?" Sam said, maintaining his stoic facade amidst the curious gazes of the surrounding students. "Feels like we're fish in a glass tank here."
Bucky chimed in with a smirk, "If I know you're secretly enjoying it."
As Sam prepared to retort to Bucky's jest, his attention was diverted by a boy exiting the library, bearing a resemblance to Steve.
"I'll be damned," Sam said under his breath. Steve and Bucky exchanged puzzled glances before following Sam's gaze.
Bucky quipped, his brow furrowed in mock suspicion, "Steve, let's be real here. Did you somehow escape the ice eighteen years ago and fathered a child?"
Sam erupted into laughter at the remark and the trio watched in disbelief as the boy turned a corner across the street.
Steve's gaze shifted back to Earl Hall and caught sight of Peter stepping out. Steve waved to Peter as they made eye contact, a smile lighting up his face.
Closing the distance, Peter couldn't help but comment, "You guys know that jackets, baseball caps, and sunglasses don't exactly scream 'incognito', right? If anything, it's just making you guys look cooler."
"That's what Sam's really aiming for, doll," Bucky replied with a smile that only deepened Sam's glare.
Steve reflected, "Seems like yesterday, Bruce, Natasha, and I were picking you up from Midtown, Peter." Steve's expression softened with nostalgia as Peter hugged him, "And now, you're in college."
"Thanks, Uncle Steve," Peter grinned, taking hold of the bag containing the suit.
"Peter, we caught a glimpse of Steve's twin earlier," Sam said, watching Steve move towards the driver's seat.
"Oh, Johnny?"
"You know the guy?"
"Yeah, he's my new friend. He told me they're not related," Peter said, climbing next to Bucky's side, "Quite famous here, even shared he cosplays as Uncle Steve sometimes."
Bucky chuckled, "Guy's already cashing in off your face, Steve."
Steve only smiled as he ignited the engine, its roar signalling their departure from the parallel parking spot. However, just as they were about to move,
"Oh, and guess who I bumped into earlier? Uncle Thor and Loki," Peter mentioned casually.
Steve's foot instinctively pressed the brake, stopping the car abruptly, "What?"
"Yeah, they were looking for their father, Odin, but Dr. Strange helped them, he's a wizard now."
"A wizard?" Sam's face twisted incredulously, "Everybody's really got a gimmick now."
As they headed towards the Tower, Peter recounted his earlier experience with the gods and the magician.
"So where's the billionaire boy?"
Steve smirked in response to Yelena's question, exchanging a knowing glance with Natasha as they took in the elegant expanse of the Starks' penthouse in silence.
"Why do crazy rich people's homes always feel so empty with this much space?" Yelena said aloud, her voice breaking the silence as she surveyed the lounge while Sam and Bucky made their way to the bar to get some chilled drinks.
Natasha chuckled softly, sharing a glance with Steve before replying, "Trademark of the wealthy, I suppose."
"Friday?" Steve called out, her voice echoing through the spacious penthouse.
"Peter's in his chemical lab, Captain," Friday responded promptly.
Natasha and Steve led the way toward Peter's lab, with Sam, Bucky, and Yelena trailing behind. As they passed Tony's lab, Yelena's eyes widened at the collection of suits displayed within. She quickened her pace to catch up with Natasha, shooting her sister a questioning look,
"Why does that billionaire have to make so many suits? Isn't one enough?"
Natasha smiled, their gaze lingering on the suits behind the transparent walls of the lab, "It's kind of their hobby, Yel."
Upon arriving at Peter's lab, the boy wasn't in sight. The room in a dimly lit ambiance, echoed with the faint hum of the computers.
"That's his technical lab, Captain," Friday's hologram displayed a schematic, indicating the path to Peter's chemical lab with a blinking dot.
"Could've given us this heads up earlier," Bucky said with impatience.
"How does this penthouse manage to change every time we're here?" Sam said, scanning the surroundings with a furrowed brow.
After navigating through the labyrinthine corridors, they finally reached the entrance of the chemical lab. It was obscured by a dense cover, giving no hint of what lay beyond.
"Friday, can you tell Peter, we're here," Natasha instructed.
"Yes, I've informed him. He may need a moment," Friday replied.
After a while, the lab's cover slid open with a hiss of compressed air, revealing Peter clad in full chemical gear that hugged him like a second skin. He emerged, stepping into the sterile chamber, reminiscent of an astronaut preparing for a spacewalk, while a gentle mist of water vapour whisked away any lingering contaminants before he removed his suit.
"Hey, gang," Peter greeted, his gaze falling on the blonde woman that came with them. "And lady."
Natasha inclined her head toward her sister, a subtle gesture of introduction. "Peter, I'd like you to meet my sister, Yelena."
Yelena's gaze met Peter's, her expression cool and composed. "Hey, billionaire boy," she greeted, her voice carrying a confident edge, softened only slightly by a casual nod.
Peter returned her nod, "Hey," his smile a touch hesitant as he acknowledged the playful nickname. "It's nice to finally meet Aunt Nat's sister."
Sam stepped forward as he almost exaggeratedly shook Peter's shoulders. "Peter, please don't tell us you're turning into a mad scientist. I'm telling you, turning into a green Spider-Man won't be a good look on you."
Natasha stifled her laugh, exchanging amused glances with Steve and Bucky, while the atmosphere lightened.
"What? I'm not, don't worry about it," Peter reassured with a hearty pat on Sam's back. "Anyway, you guys looking for Dad? He's not here. Today's the annual board of directors meeting, and he's still the Chairman so he needed to be there."
"Yeah, we called him. He directed us to you, says this is more your expertise," Natasha said, producing a vial containing swirling red liquid from her pocket, "Can you analyze this compound for us?"
Peter reached for the vial, studying its contents closely, "Cool, yeah let's head to my other lab, I'll set up there."
As Peter delved into the workings of his microscope, what initially seemed like a straightforward chemical substance revealed itself to be in the complex realm of nanotechnology. He furrowed his brow, delving deep into his memories, recalling the concepts his father had instilled in him in the fields of nanotechnology and neurobiology. With each twist of the lens, a flood of memories surged forth, blending his passion for science with the cherished lessons from his mentor.
Yet, amidst the delicate dance of lenses and slides, tension simmered between the sisters. It hung in the air like a dense fog, momentarily drawing Peter's attention away from his work. The gentle hum of the computers, usually a comforting background melody, now seemed to amplify the silence of the lab, casting an uneasy pall over the room that unsettled him.
Sneakily glancing up from his task, Peter observed Natasha and Yelena, their expressions tight with unresolved emotions as the topic of the Black Widow program resurfaced. Sensing the weight of the moment, he asked, "So, Yelena's still a Black Widow?" He referred to the brief rundown Natasha had given him earlier. "Thought she's already living a normal life?"
Yelena's response was laced with bitterness. "No woman gets out of that program. Dreykov always finds a way to produce more widows to his call." Her gaze bore into Natasha, accusing and wounded. "And it's not like my sister wanted to see me, didn't even make any contact since she got out."
Natasha met her sister's stare head-on. "Honestly, I thought you didn't wanna see me."
"Bullshit." Yelena retorted, each word dripping with venom. "You just didn't want your baby sister to tag along, whilst you saved the world with the cool kids." Her eyes swept over the team scattered around Peter's lab. "But who needs a sister when you've got your newfound family, especially with Captain America for a boyfriend."
Natasha closed her eyes briefly, a pained expression crossing her face. "Yel..."
"I was your family too," Yelena interrupted, her voice strained as she avoided their gazes, unwilling to reveal the tears threatening to spill over.
Natasha's gaze softened, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. A flicker of remorse danced in her eyes, betraying the tough exterior she often wore. "I thought by leaving you alone, I'm giving you a chance to move on from the nightmares of our lives."
As Yelena glanced up at her, she saw the sincerity in Natasha's gaze. Steve, sensing the weight of the moment, gave Yelena a reassuring look. "We're going to dismantle the Red Room, Yelena. I give you my word."
They then turned to Peter, who had been observing the scene with a warmhearted expression. He swiped through his screen, explaining, "It's a counteragent to chemical subjugation. It's an engineered nanoparticle programmed to interact with specific neural receptors or neurotransmitters influencing brain function. It also contains substances capable of traversing the blood-brain barrier to directly affect brain chemistry. This synthetic gas immunizes the brain's neuropathways from external manipulation."
"In English?" Steve said.
"It's an antidote to mind control," Peter clarified.
"Can you produce more of these?" Natasha asked.
"Yeah, sure thing. When do you need it?"
"ASAP," Yelena interjected.
"Alright, I'll get it done by tomorrow morning." Peter smiled, though a pang of exhaustion tugged at him as he realized he was in for another all-nighter but for sure his Dad will help him out later.
"Thanks a lot, little Stark." Natasha gave him a warm hug, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, and Steve followed suit. "Sorry, Peter, you might have to be in the lab this time for this mission."
"It's no problem," Peter replied with a sincere smile, his mind already juggling thoughts of his other experiment. "I'm also quite busy with Uni."
Bucky and Sam then gave Peter a brotherly embrace, and just before Sam pulled away, he leaned in with a knowing look. "Remember my reminder. Green Spider-Hulk? Na uh."
Peter chuckled, nodding in agreement, as Yelena waved her hand and followed behind. "Thanks, billionaire boy."
Peter waved back. "Good luck on the mission, you guys."