A World All His Own
Peter Parker sat cross-legged on the plush carpet of the Stark Tower living room, entirely immersed in the intricate coloring page spread out in front of him. Steve had outdone himself this time; the sketch of a towering cityscape was so detailed that Peter could practically feel the grit of the bricks and the shine of the skyscraper windows as he colored them in. His fingers flitted over the page, blending hues of gray and blue for the sky, while his favorite set of colored pencils lay scattered around him like a miniature rainbow. Coloring wasn’t just a pastime for Peter; it was a lifeline. It helped him find calm in the chaos of his double life as a high schooler and Spider-Man. The repetitive motion of shading, the quiet focus required—it was everything he needed to push away the overstimulation of the world.
Then there was the singing.
Tony Stark was the only one who knew about Peter’s love for music, particularly his habit of singing while he worked. It was something Peter did instinctively, a way to let his mind wander freely while his hands stayed busy. Tony had walked in on him once during a late-night patrol debrief, and instead of teasing, he’d simply said, “Kid, you’ve got pipes,” before promising not to tell anyone else. Peter trusted Tony to keep his secret. The Avengers were great, but the thought of them hearing him sing made his stomach twist into knots. Today, though, Peter was completely in his element, unaware of what was about to unfold.
In the adjoining hallway, the Avengers gathered for their weekly meeting. Sam Wilson was recounting a hilarious training mishap involving Bucky, while Natasha smirked and Bruce adjusted his glasses, trying not to laugh. Steve held a thick file of updates, ready to brief the team. Tony, standing slightly apart from the group, glanced toward the living room and froze. His sharp eyes caught sight of Peter sitting on the floor, completely lost in his own world.
“Uh, guys,” Tony began, trying to redirect their attention. But it was too late. As the team quieted, the faint sound of music drifted through the air. No, not music—singing.
“I wanna be like, messy…”
The voice was rich, unpolished, and full of something almost carefree. Peter’s tone shifted effortlessly between soft tones and fierce lyrics as he sang out the words to his current song obsession - Brutal by Olivia Rodrigo.
“It’s brutal out here…”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Is that... Peter?”
“Kid’s got a hidden talent,” Natasha remarked, leaning casually against the wall.
Steve, ever the gentleman, hesitated. “We should probably let him know we’re here—”
“Shh,” Tony interrupted, holding up a hand. “Let him finish. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”
Peter’s voice rose, just a little, as he threw himself into the bridge:
“All I do is try my best, this the kind of thanks I get? Unrelentlessly upset—ahhh!”
Inside the living room, Peter switched pencils, adding highlights to a building's rooftop as his foot tapped out the beat against the carpet. The music, the colors, the lyrics—it was like he’d found a secret corner of the universe where he could just be.
As the song drew to a close, Peter exhaled, setting down his pencil and looking at his masterpiece with quiet satisfaction.
Then he froze.
“Standing ovation,” came a low, teasing voice.
Peter whipped around to see Tony leaning against the doorframe, smirking. Behind him, the rest of the Avengers stood awkwardly, some grinning, some trying to play it cool.
“You—how long were you guys—?”
“Oh, only the entire song,” Sam said, laughing.
Peter’s face burned. “You weren’t supposed to hear that!”
“Why not?” Bruce asked, genuinely curious. “You’ve got a great voice.”
Peter buried his face in his hands. “It’s embarrassing!”
“Embarrassing?” Natasha echoed, folding her arms. “Kid, we’ve all done way more embarrassing things.”
“Like when Sam tripped over his own wings last week,” Bucky added, earning a glare from Sam.
“Or when Clint thought he could out-eat Thor in a pancake contest,” Steve chimed in, smiling gently at Peter.
Peter peeked out from behind his hands. “You guys really don’t think it’s weird?”
Tony knelt beside him, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Not at all, kid. Everyone’s got their thing. Yours just happens to involve hitting high notes while shading skyscrapers.”
“Speaking of which,” Steve said, stepping forward to admire Peter’s work, “you’re really bringing this to life. That gradient on the sky? Incredible.”
Peter’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Do you take requests?” Sam asked. “Because I think the next song should be Happy by Pharrell.”
Peter groaned, but his laughter bubbled up despite himself. “Don’t push your luck.”
"Yeah, Sam, he's not a radio-" Bucky remarked, then he got cut off as he ducked to narrowly avoid a swat to the back of the head. The meeting that day was postponed in favor of an impromptu karaoke session. One by one, the Avengers took turns singing, much to Peter’s relief. At the end of the night, he wasn’t just Spider-Man or the kid genius who loved to color—they’d embraced him, singing and all.
And maybe, just maybe, Peter was okay with being heard.