Peter froze as a cheer erupted, his sneakers scuffing to a halt just past the elevator threshold. The room seemed alive with color and sound—balloons of every size bobbed near the ceiling, and more were tied into a colorful arch framing an equally colorful, elaborately set dining table.

The effect was jarring. He almost took a step back, but he stopped when his eyes settled on a piñata suspended from the ceiling. A slow grin spread across his face as his eyes followed the rope down… to Harley.

"I should have known," Peter huffed under his breath, drowned out by a chorus of "happy birthdays." He'd thought it was a joke, all those weeks ago, when Harley told him to pick a day for his birthday. He didn't think they would take it seriously. He didn't think they'd all gather and decorate and… do all of this.

Peter glanced around at the crowd. Stark's grin was front and center, Pepper beamed beside him, and Bruce was already holding up a ridiculous party hat. Sam and Nat smiled smugly, and even Steve looked genuinely pleased to be there.

Peter couldn't believe they were taking time out of their day to do this. He laughed nervously, a little at a loss for words. "This is—insane."

"I can't believe we actually surprised you!" Harley grinned as he tied off the piñata to the back of a chair and came forward to greet him. "You didn't forget your own birthday, did you?"

"I remembered, sort of, but…." Peter shook his head, still in shock. "You came all the way back for my birthday?" Peter almost called it his fake birthday but quickly recovered. If they were going to put all this effort in, he could at least play along.

"Of course I came." Harley grinned. "It's your first. That's a momentous occasion." He handed him a party hat that did, indeed, say "1st Birthday!"

He stared at the hat, turning it over in his hands. "There better not be a clown," he said shakily. He didn't know why he suddenly felt overwhelmed by the small crowd of smiling faces.

Harley's grin softened and he closed the distance. Without warning, he pulled Peter into a solid hug. Peter felt a lump forming in his throat. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed Harley until this moment. The daily texting wasn't the same as seeing him in person, standing here like it was no big deal.

But it was a big deal.

"Happy Birthday, Pete," Harley said, taking the hat back to pop it onto Peter's head as Pepper snapped a few pictures on her phone. Stark clapped him on the shoulder and joined in for a picture.

Peter managed a tight smile as his vision blurred just slightly. "Thanks, guys. You really didn't have to do all this."

"It was our pleasure." Pepper pulled him in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm just glad it all worked out. My job was to get you out of the penthouse for a few hours, but you didn't take any of the bait!"

"Sorry about that." Peter smiled sheepishly.

Mr. Stark smirked. "Not a problem. FRIDAY really rose to the occasion and improvised like a pro." The man's eyes had a mischievous glint. "She kept us updated so we knew how much time we had. You did a great job with all those lab disasters."

"Oh my God, Mr. Stark. I thought she was malfunctioning." Peter turned to Harley. "And you! You were avoiding my texts! Was it because of all this?"

Now it was Harley's turn to look a little sheepish. "Yeah, sorry, I was hopping on a plane when you started texting."

"Well, thanks for all the effort. I was really surprised. This is really nice of you all." He glanced around at everyone gathered. He couldn't believe they'd taken so much time out of their busy lives to do this. To plan it all and put it together, let alone show up for it.

He felt that lump return in his throat and ducked his head. Pepper swooped in, sensing he needed rescue, and took him by the shoulder. "We're happy to celebrate you, Peter. And we want you to have a good day. So let us know if it's too much. Tony can be a little overwhelming with things like this."

"That sounds ominous." Peter chuckled nervously. What could they have planned?

And then his gaze settled on the mountain of presents piled in the living room, each wrapped in shiny paper and tied with elaborate bows. Peter's eyes slowly traveled upwards to the peak of the stack.

Christ.

Tony followed them into the room grinning a very satisfied smile. "Happy birthday, kiddo!"


After dinner and cake, Peter sat in a nest of discarded wrapping paper, eyeing the pile of still-unwrapped gifts warily. He hadn't made much of a dent in it yet. The remains of the piñata were scattered about amongst the shredded paper as well. It had not survived all the creative methods each Avenger employed to break it open.

"Mr. Stark… are you sure this isn't too much? It seems like a lot." Peter's voice trailed off as he glanced at Harley for confirmation. The teen just shrugged, a little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Stark crossed his arms, his expression one of exaggerated offense. "Too much? Kid, I held back! And Pepper had complete veto power. I'll have you know she nixed a lot of great stuff in the name of keeping things from being "too much."

Pepper scoffed. "I only said no to the pony and the fireworks."

"Well, a pony and pyrotechnics would've been disastrous," Harley chimed in. "It really was more of an either-or scenario. Anyway, Tony's been a picture of restraint. He vetoed most of the party entertainment."

"That was an easy 'no.'" Mr. Stark Shuddered. "This tower is a clown and mime-free zone."

Pepper slid a reassuring arm around Peter and gave him a squeeze. "Tony has a hard time reigning it in on birthdays and holidays. But you're allowed to tell him if it's too much."

Stark rolled his eyes. "This is a perfectly acceptable, reigned in amount of gifts."

Pepper snorted and Tony shot her a look.

"Can we maybe save some of these for Christmas?" Peter offered.

Harley grimaced painfully and shook his head at that suggestion. "I've tried that. You'll just end up with double the gifts at Christmas."

"We are not saving these for Christmas." Mr. Stark said, exasperated. But as he glanced at the pile he appeared to compromise, removing a small box off the top. "I guess this one can wait til next year. More traditional that way." The box jangled suspiciously like keys. "But I'm not taking away any of the others!"

The others included a high-tech, custom-built watch, as well as an e-bike to make exploring the city easier. Both had built-in panic buttons and other hidden features.

Peter looked at Stark. "These have trackers in them, don't they?"

The man cleared his throat, looking away. "Perhaps, as a byproduct of the navigation system…" he mumbled, his words growing too quiet to catch.

Great. Peter rolled his eyes. He would be finding and removing those trackers, first thing.

When he opened a fancy new laptop, he had to stop. "Wow. Thank you, Mr. Stark. But I really think I should just save the rest for another time."

"Fine." Tony relented. "Some of these can be for when you get your acceptance letter to Midtown Tech."

That would only be a few days from now, but Peter leapt at the compromise. He still had presents from everyone else to open, and they were all watching with expectant smiles.

Fortunately, everyone else had perfectly normal offerings. Pepper gave him a beautifully wrapped leatherbound set of drafting notebooks. "For all your best ideas," she said. That was surprisingly sweet, and he hugged her.

Steve got him some Lego sets. "I hear these are great for occupying your mind on rainy days when you can't go running."

Sam gave him a set of his favorite movies. "So you can find out if any of these are your favorites, too."

Bruce got him his own microscope to keep on the desk in his bedroom. "Now you can stop messing with mine," he'd said with a smile.

Clint got him a slackline. "I hear you're a bit of an acrobat. I was, too, when I was a kid."

Nat gave him a lockpicking set. She smirked when Tony protested, "Why would you get the kid something like that?" He groused. "Never mind, look who I'm talking to."

Harley gave him a really cool mini multitool for working with electronics. It would work in a pinch when he wanted to take something apart or put it back together late at night in his room.

And then he opened Happy's present. "Oh, a car safety kit. Thanks, Happy."

Happy shrugged. "It went with that little box Tony will try to give you again next year."

Of course it did. Peter sighed.

Tony clapped his hands and rose from the sofa. "Well, we can still take it for a spin, because my final gift requires a bit of driving."

"Uh oh."

"No uh-ohs," Tony shushed him. "This one was Harley-approved. He assures us you'll like it."

Harley grinned. "It's a classic birthday activity. We're going to take on the Avengers in a battle of stealth, strategy, agility, and sharpshooting."

"That sounds horrifying." Peter frowned.

"Don't worry. I know you're a pacifist. Which is why we'll be duking it out at Tac Ops with harmless laser guns."

Peter wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but if the lasers were harmless, then it sounded like fun.

Clint hopped up from his seat. "I can't wait to take you all down."

"Half of us will be on your team, bird brain." Tony rolled his eyes.

Peter looked around at the gathered Avengers. "Wait, seriously? You guys are going to play the game, too?"

"Hell yeah. Laser tag is fun. I've taken my kids a few times." Clint said as he pulled an arrow from the piñata's cardboard carcass. Steve nodded, smiling. "It sounds like a good training exercise, actually."

Peter laughed at the bizarreness. "Okay. But don't get upset when I put your highly trained team to shame."

"You're on, kid!" Tony grinned.


The teams were chosen randomly. It was Peter, Harley, Nat, and Sam on one side. And Tony, Happy, Steve, and Clint on the other.

The attendant skimmed over the two team rosters and glanced up at Peter and Harley. "This is the most bizarre thing I've ever experienced."

"You and me both." Peter muttered.

The attendant tilted her head, clearly trying to make sense of what she was seeing. "Is this… like a Make-A-Wish situation?" Her eyes swept over Peter and Harley again, as if searching for some clue that might confirm her theory.

Harley, quick on his feet as always, offered a lopsided grin. "Something like that," he said smoothly. "It's his birthday."

"Oh." Her expression softened, the hint of pity that followed making Peter shift uncomfortably. He must've looked more tired than he realized because her eyes lingered, almost like she was wondering if this might be his last birthday. "Are you sure you don't want to split up?" She gestured to Harley and Peter. "One of you on each team? You know, to make it more fair?"

It took Peter a moment to realize what she meant. Because, honestly, wherever Peter played it was going to be more than a little unfair. But from her perspective, she saw two teens pitted against Iron Man, Captain America, Hawkeye, and a mean-mugging body guard. Sure, they had Black Widow and Falcon, but it seemed a little skewed.

Harley caught her meaning, his smirk widening. "Oh, I think it's stacked pretty fair, actually." He gave Peter a knowing look, and the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

The attendant hesitated, then shrugged, clearly deciding it was above her paygrade to worry about it. She handed out the laser tag gear, offering Peter one last pitying glance. "Well, you have fun out there," she said before stepping aside to let them get ready.

As soon as she was gone, Harley leaned over towards Peter. "It'll be an even more even playing field with this little beauty!" Harley said as he produced a tiny black case about the size of a pack of gum. It had a little red switch and an LED light sticking out of it.

Peter gave him a sideways look. "Do I even want to know?"

A sly grin spread across Harley's face. "Tony and Clint are consummate cheaters. They aren't going to play fair, and they've got a bodyguard and a super soldier on their team." He gestured to the little device in his hands with a flourish. "Well, this here is my superpower—building genius little electronics to cheat at laser tag with. It's an infrared record/replay device! Shoot it with your laser gun. Go on."

Peter gave it a wary look but aimed his laser gun and pulled the trigger. The little LED on the box flashed.

"Now it's recorded the infrared code from your gun. It'll repeat the code whenever I press the switch, but at a much wider angle."

Peter realized what that meant. "That's genius. But shoot it with your gun instead. It'll be funnier."

Harley grinned. "If you say so."


Peter wove effortlessly through the maze of neon-lit barriers, his senses tuned to the subtle, electric buzz he'd learned to trust during training with Nat. The laser tag arena pulsed with color and the rhythmic hum of bass-heavy music vibrating through the air. There was no real danger here, but if he psyched himself up enough—convincing his body that he really didn't want to get hit—his instincts sharpened. A tiny prickle ran down his spine each time a laser honed in on him, and he slipped effortlessly between cover, weaving through the chaos like a shadow.

He ducked low and rolled behind a padded barrier, grinning as he popped up just long enough to dodge Clint's next shot. "Whoops, sorry, Mr. Barton. I didn't mean to dodge all your shots." He scurried across Clint's line of sight, light on his feet. He still hadn't been hit once.

"Hey!" Clint's frustrated shout echoed through the arena.

A sudden pop filled the air, and thick white smoke billowed out across the battlefield. Peter heard the unmistakable clink of the canister hitting the floor. Definitely Stark.

"Good luck shooting what you can't see!" Tony's voice called from somewhere in the haze, smug and taunting.

Peter ducked, coughing slightly as the fog thickened. Somewhere behind the wall of smoke, Steve's stern voice cut through, disapproving but not entirely surprised. "You brought that to a birthday party, Tony?"

"Really?" Sam shouted from his place of cover. "Cheating? Real mature."

Peter scurried over to a barrier where Harley crouched, waiting. The teen aimed his infrared device into the smoke, shooting at random.

Tony yelped as his sensors registered a hit. "What the hell?"

Peter smirked, crouching low and closing his eyes to focus. Through the thick haze, he could hear the soft shuffle of Clint's boots. Peter pointed sharply to his left. "Over there."

Harley raised his makeshift gun. A second later, Clint groaned. "How did I just get hit?

Across from them, Nat zeroed in on Clint's voice and took aim, but he must've moved to a place where he had a vantage over them through the smoke, because an arrow came whizzing from above and knocked Nat's laser gun out of her hands.

Happy darted forward, kicking the gun out of Nat's reach while Clint provided cover with very real arrows.

Harley huffed beside him. "See? Cheaters. All of them."

Peter's heart pounded with exhilaration as he darted behind another barrier, grinning despite himself. It was bedlam. And it was the most fun he'd ever remembered having.


Eventually Nat got her gun back and she and Sam harnessed their collective annoyance to ambush the other team with murderous precision. Between their renewed efforts, Peter's phantom-like avoidance of being shot, and Harley's insanely high hit rate, their team won by a landslide.

The time ran out with a loud buzz, and all of the lights began to strobe as a congratulatory announcement was played overhead.

Peter froze, wincing as the lights flickered aggressively in his face. His heart stuttered and he felt his hackles rise as if he was about to be attacked. He covered his eyes against the rapid flashing, gasped a ragged, terrified breath, and …suddenly, he wasn't in the game arena anymore.

The laughter and cheers of his friends faded into a dull hum, and in its place, he found himself staring at a stark, grimy white room. A single fluorescent light buzzed and blinked overhead, flickering like the fragile wings of a dying insect.

The walls pressed in too tight and his limbs—his limbs wouldn't move. A medical tray gleamed beside him, its surface dotted with horrifying instruments. A scalpel. A half-filled syringe of sickly yellow liquid. Rust-stained gauze.

A chill climbed up his spine, so sharp it hurt. The lights continued to flicker, casting ominous shadows all around.

"Pete?"

Someone was calling him, but it felt distant, the words sounding garbled through the deafening rush of blood in his ears. His chest tightened painfully.

"Pete, what's wrong?"

Hands gripped his shoulders, solid and grounding, but he couldn't focus. The walls spun, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision. His knees buckled, and he felt himself sinking toward the floor, his breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps.

"Breathe, Pete. It's okay. Just breathe."

He closed his eyes but somehow still saw the flickering.

Someone shook him hard and when he opened his eyes again, the cold white room was gone, replaced by the colorful glow of the laser tag arena. His back was against the wall, his legs splayed awkwardly beneath him. Harley was just inches away looking frantic, his hands still gripped tightly around Peter's shoulders.

"You with me, Pete?" His brown eyes were wide with fear as he looked Peter over. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Peter swallowed hard and choked out, "Can you get Stark?" The request surprised Peter even as he said it.

"Yeah, I'll get him." Harley nodded but then hesitated, his grip tightening briefly. "Just sit tight, okay? Don't move."

He let go and took off towards the arena's exit. Peter could hear everyone gathering at the front of the building, laughing and arguing good-naturedly. Sam was loudly rubbing their victory in Clint's face. Peter waited for the sounds to change-for the group to grow hushed and concerned, rushing to follow Harley back. Peter tensed anxiously, pulling his legs up to hug his knees. They were all going to see him slumped against the wall like a broken thing, freaking out over flickering lights.

But Harley must've peeled Stark away discreetly, because within seconds the man arrived alone. Everyone else seemed to be making their way back to the locker rooms. It was just Stark there to witness Peter coming to pieces.

"Peter? What's going on, kiddo?" Mr. Stark crouched down in front of Peter, still in his vest of sensors. He kept his voice low and calm. The tight constriction around Peter's ribcage let up a little as the man reached forward and settled a warm hand on his shoulder.

Peter's throat tightened again, but he managed to choke out, "I—I don't know."

Tony nodded, like that was perfectly fine. "Okay. Don't worry about it. Let's just take a breather." He shifted as if to get up, but Peter's hand shot out instinctively, clamping down on Tony's forearm with a grip so tight it made his own knuckles ache.

Tony froze, his eyes flicking to Peter's hand, but he didn't pull away. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere, buddy. Just taking a seat." He slid down against the wall beside him.

Peter's hand was still gripping Stark's arm, but the man didn't seem to mind. He'd never done that before—never reached out like this—but it felt right. He wanted more contact, wanted to lean into Tony's steady presence, but he forced himself to stay upright.

Tony kept talking, his voice soft, familiar. "You really wiped the floor with us tonight, kiddo. Did you see your scores? I don't know how you managed to escape getting shot the entire time. And Harley got the sharpshooter trophy? Yeah, right. I suspect foul play."

Peter nodded along, letting Tony's quiet murmuring ground him as he waited for the feeling to return to his arms and legs.

Harley returned first from the locker rooms, hovering uncertainly. "Hey man. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, picking laser tag of all things."

Peter shook his head. "No, no, it's fine. It wasn't the laser tag. The lights just made me a little sick. I'm good, I promise. It was fun."

He started to push himself up—and froze.

Tony's arm lifted with him, stuck.

"You good, bud?" Tony glanced at him, his eyes full of worry.

Peter sat right back down. Panic surged through him again, but he forced a casual laugh. "Uh. Yeah, I must still be a little dizzy, is all." Of all the freaking times the ability could have reappeared, it chose now?

Tony's brow furrowed with concern, but he didn't press. "Okay. Take your time."

What was he going to do now? He moved his hand the tiniest bit. He could feel the pull. He was definitely stuck. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He couldn't let go of Stark's arm. How was he going to get out of this?

Focus, Peter. Focus.

His mind raced as he considered what to do. Just that morning he'd realized the stickiness had to be something he could control, something he could willingly turn on and off. Getting zapped could temporarily induce the charge that must be generating the stickiness, or it could knock it out. But somehow Peter must be able to restore it on his own.

If he was back in the lab he'd hook his hands up to sensors to measure and display the strength of the electric field around his hands. If he could watch it on a monitor, he could teach himself to control it. That was the whole concept of biofeedback machines. People could learn to control their heartrates and all sorts of physiological processes with biofeedback. It would work to reveal whatever it was he was doing to trigger the ability, and teach him to control it. That had been the plan, anyway, before FRIDAY decided he couldn't leave the lab during the party prep.

A little late for that, now. Peter had somehow turned his stickiness on while he was panicking and he needed to figure out how to let go, but without the benefit of any lab sensors or monitors.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What was it that had turned the stickiness on? Peter thought back to the moment he'd clamped his hand down on Stark's arm. He'd been scared the man was leaving, and he desperately wanted him to stay. Peter thought about that feeling and tried to release it. He was safe. Stark was right there next to him. So was Harley. Peter wasn't alone. They weren't going anywhere.

Peter repeated those thoughts in a loop in his mind and gradually felt the bond weaken. He exhaled slowly, willing the tension to drain from his body, and with it, the sticky hold on Tony's arm. Slowly, tentatively, he peeled his hand away, releasing his stickiness without anyone the wiser.

It worked!

Tony quirked an eyebrow. "You good, now, bud?"

Peter nodded, a bit breathless. "Yeah. Thanks. I should probably go turn in my vest and stuff."

Harley extended a hand, and Peter took it, letting his friend haul him to his feet. Harley kept watching him nervously as he followed him out of the arena. He hovered as if he thought Peter might combust in anxiety at any moment. And he might, he supposed. That flashback had come out of nowhere.

He wondered if that was how it was always going to be. Would he be walking around, minding his own business, and bam, a terror-inducing flashback?

Even half an hour later, in the car, Harley still looked worried. "You sure you're okay?" Harley's voice was soft as they rode back to the tower. "Was it really just the lights?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah. I'm good. It's just my senses. I think I'm a little sensitive to lights. The strobes near the end made me dizzy." He glanced up to see Harley's face tense with concern. "Really, it's fine. Did you see the score?" Peter grinned, ready to change the subject.

"Yeah, we set a record." He smiled a little, still looking uneasy. "By a landslide, actually."

"It was really fun, Harley. The whole day was. Thanks for coming back and doing all this."

Harley relaxed a little. "Maybe we can convince Tony to add a laser tag floor in the tower. For training purposes, of course. Something a little more realistic, without all the strobe lights."

Peter grinned. That didn't sound like such a bad idea.


Back in his room, Peter got ready for bed. It had been a long, interesting day, on very little sleep. He was exhausted, but still eager to test something out.

Peter turned the water on and stepped into the privacy of his shower, free from even FRIDAY's prying eyes. He pressed his hands to the slick, wet tile and thought of how it felt to form the adhesive bond. The memory from that evening ran through his mind, and he lingered on the emotions that came with it. Gradually, a fuzzy, tickly feeling formed across his skin. He leaned into that feeling and…stuck.

An incredulous, giddy smile spread across his face. Hand over hand, Peter climbed the wall of his shower.