juice pops and just desserts
At the glass doors to the Avengers residence, Happy and Peter parted ways.
“A car will be round in a bit,” Happy said and fished through his pockets for his phone. “I’ll make some calls and sort a few things out so that you can go back tonight,” he paused, “if you’re feeling well enough, that is.”
“Yeah the sooner I get back, the more time I’ll have to study,” Peter said shrugging itched at his hands. He was beginning to wish that he had taken off the bandages back in the med bay.
Happy looked as though he was about to say something more, but his phone had begun to chirp and he had to answer. Peter gave a wave and left him on the doorstep, retreating into the warmth of the compound.
Of his three current residences, May’s apartment felt the most like home, while his dorm at MIT was probably the least homey. The compound was left in limbo between the two, at the current stage it could really go either way. It didn’t help that Peter wasn’t sure whether he’d ever be completely comfortable going into his kitchen and finding the Winter Soldier having a morning coffee whilst the Hulk fried up some eggs for breakfast.
His phone made a shrill, bell-like sound as May sent through a text. Apparently, she was still in the hangar chatting with Pepper but would be out soon to see him off. Peter hated it when his aunt used the word ‘chatting’, it always seemed an attempt to hide the fact that the conversation was a in fact, a serious one. Growing up with May had featured many conversations that started with ‘Peter we need to have a chat’, none of which had ended particularly well. Despite the ominous ‘chatting’, Peter had to remind himself that, despite the recent headlines, the world did most definitely not revolve around him. Pepper and May could be talking about any manner of things aside from his complete fuck up at Manhattan Bridge.
Peter grumbled to himself as he trudged up the stairs, turning his thoughts instead to MJ who he hadn’t seen since she had left the med bay. He quickly sent her a text and watched the three bouncing circles appear in the chat as she typed back.
‘In a kitchen/ living room in the big main building – no hurry but I think Captain Marvel just fixed me a coffee????’
‘Uh oh. I’ll be there in a sec!’ Peter replied.
He rounded the stairs and tried to ignore the photos that graced the walls above the banister. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for images of the rest of the team at some of the highest points in their careers, when he had just been dealt the lowest blow of his. Too many emotions were captured in these photos and Peter wondered what MJ might make of them for they did indeed appear to speak a thousand wordsas the saying went. Peter was particularly careful to avoid the photo of himself and Tony, the photo that proved his internship. Though his dream from that afternoon had retreated into the back of his mind, Tony’s words still ate at him.
Up until the last photo, Peter thought he had seen them all before. The final one was new; the front page of the New York Times had been flattened out and set behind glass, in a red frame. ‘I AM IRON MAN’ the headline read above a photo of Tony at a press conference from years ago. Peter could practically see the scene playing out in his head, he had seen the video countless times, including the day that it had aired on national TV. He’d later found out that the reveal hadn’t been planned, and Tony had gone off the script. The plan had been to do what Happy was now preparing to have Peter do but instead Tony had revealed everything to the world. It made Peter think.
Voices in the kitchen forced him past the photo and around the corner into the open plan kitchen/living room space that was the unofficial hub of the entire residence. To Peter’s surprise, MJ and Carol were sat close together on the couches in the living room and appeared deep in conversation. MJ was gesturing animatedly with her hands and Carol was nodding in agreement from where she sat in her green chair, Peter had noticed it seemed to be her favourite (though, whenever Fury deigned to join them, the two would have a stare off for who got to sit there – Fury had lost every single time). If he’d really wanted to, Peter could have sharpened his hearing to catch their words, but he didn’t want to invade and instead turned his attention to the kitchen.
“Peter,” Sam Wilson said from where he was stood at the kitchen island, toned arms braced against it. “How you holding up so far?” Across from him, perched on the kitchen bar stools were Bucky Barnes and Colonel Rhodes.
“Getting there,” Peter shrugged with a pained smile as he walked over to join the trio.
“It seriously sucks, man,” Sam said and clapped Peter on the back in solidarity.
“It’s not great having the press on your back is it?” Bucky grimaced and Peter nodded. Years ago, back when he had first been recruited by Tony, Bucky had been all over the papers too. His situation had been a little different when you considered the whole world had believed him to be a mass murderer, whereas Peter was only accused of being a neighbourhood vigilante. Thinking of it that way definitely helped him put it all into perspective, at least he wasn’t on the run from his own friends because they thought he had committed mass crimes against humanity.
“I saw Tony go through it, back then things were a little different,” Rhodey said and took a sip of his steaming coffee before continuing, “then again, Tony rather enjoyed the attention.”
“Yeah well I got none of that,” Sam said, his tone lighter. “Then again, I’m not America’s newest and hottest bachelor so,” he shrugged at Peter, “though I hear that might have changed.” Sam, Rhodey and Bucky turned their heads to MJ who was still talking to Carol.
Bucky, noticing that Peter was now blushing in embarrassment, interjected with a perfectly timed quip. “I don’t think anyone cared when you went public about your identity, either way you were pretty much anonymous.” The nonchalance in his tone made it all the better.
“Ok, yeah well…” Sam tried to pull together a sufficiently teasing comeback but trailed off with a huff of annoyance. “That’s not fair, I can’t even poke fun at what happened to you because it was so shit.”
“Thanks for your consideration.” Bucky mimed tipping his hat as he spoke. Peter sometimes forgot that the Winter Soldier was a man lost out of time, just as Steve had been.
“Fuck off,” Sam grumbled but the banter was all good natured.
“No swearing around the children,” Bucky said into his coffee.
Peter tilted his head, but smirked. “19 remember,” he said indicting himself. He’d turned 19 in August but in the mind of the others he’d probably still be known as ‘the kid’ until he was at least 30.
“Mommy said that people only say that word when they’re really angry,” a small voice said from behind them and Peter jumped. His hearing must’ve faltered because he hadn’t heard the tell-tale footsteps of Morgan Stark entering the kitchen. She came up to stand at Peter’s side. Felt tip pen marred her hands, making Peter think she must have been upstairs with Bruce who always had at least a dozen whiteboard markers on his desk.
“Are you angry, Mr Wilson?” She asked sweetly.
Sam was stumped by the question and Rhodey laughed at his expression. “Ah no, Morgan, I was just kidding.”
“Alright,” Morgan said, “but you should be careful because if you say it people willthink you’re angry.” Her tone was sing song as she turned away from the grownups and wandered over to the refrigerator.
“You’re right I should be careful,” Sam said with a pointed look at Bucky who was smiling into his coffee once more.
“It’s ok, Daddy would always say shit instead,” Morgan said, looking slyly at Sam who was clearly gobsmacked by the 6-year old’s readiness to drop swear words. Rhodey laughed so hard at it that he almost toppled off his chair. When Rhodey regained his balance and wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, there was something deeper to his expression that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
“Hey Morgan.” Peter was grinning, and the little girl smiled back at him as she opened the freezer, letting forth a billow of steam. “Where have you been?” Peter called after her.
“I was just in Mom’s room talking to Genevieve,” Morgan replied giving him a bright smile. Peter had clearly been wrong about her whereabouts. He was struck by what a strange childhood Morgan would come to remember. It certainly wasn’t your average upbringing to be babysat by an incredibly advanced AI in a house populated by some of the most powerful superheroes in the universe. Then again, Morgan’s life had already been different the moment she was born into the world as the child of Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. There were things she’d never have control over that had been decided before she was born, a legacy already in place should she choose to grasp it. The thought of legacy made Peter feel ill as he instantly recalled the newspaper headings. Morgan was a welcome distraction.
“Juice pop,” she muttered, more to herself than him, but Peter walked over to give her a hand anyway. The freezer was chock full of Tupperware containers filled with Thanksgiving leftovers, beneath it all was a box of raspberry flavoured juice pops. They were clearly labelled on one side in permanent marker scrawl.
Morgan took a moment to read the messy handwriting. ‘Dr Banner only’. She gave Peter a mischievous smile, which he gladly returned and helped her take one out of the box. She scurried off to the sofa and plopped herself down near a somewhat startled MJ and began unwrapping the ice-cream.
“Hey, kid!” Sam called after her, “make sure you don’t spill any on the leather!”
“She’s 6, let her be,” Rhodey said and waved a carefree hand.
“Alright, but you’ll be clearing up for her,” Sam said shrugging and pouring himself a coffee too.
“Peter’s the youngest; he can do it,” Bucky supplied, and Peter gave him an outraged look but laughed anyway.
It was these times that the compound felt most like a home. Thanksgiving Day had been a stressful rush with so many people around. He preferred the quiet moments like this which reminded Peter why these individuals were something more than just a team. A dysfunctional family at best, they had been brought together by their shared differences and united by their choice to continue protecting the world as they knew it. Peter felt honoured to be a small part of that circle, even if they were notorious for finding at least 5 things for him to fix or build each time he was around. Occasionally he’d get texts from Carol or Rhodey during his school weeks, asking when he would next be at the compound to sort out suit problems and the like. Peter knew that many of the things were easy fixes, but secretly hoped they asked it of him so they might see him more often, that he might reallybe a part of the team.
It was a naïve thought, he now realised. The Thanksgiving lunch had made that evident enough. He wasn’t Peter Parker with the team, he was rarely even Spider-Man. Instead, he was the mechanic who fixed things for them, a placeholder for Tony Stark, though he knew he would never be worthy of that space.
Peter mentally kicked himself for letting his brain stray so far and ruin a perfectly nice moment, but his mind was an unrelenting expert at overthinking.
Peter left the kitchen as Rhodey went to go upstairs, leaving Bucky and Sam to the quick tongued banter they often found themselves in. On this occasion he could hear them arguing over whether the main sofa opposite the flat screen was indeed leather or if it was fabric. Sam was currently claiming that it was suede rather than fabric.
Peter finally made his way over to MJ and took a grateful seat next to her.
“Hey, you,” MJ said bumping her shoulder against his, “thought you might have dozed off for another two days.”
“Way too busy for that,” Peter said and didn’t let his face betray the terrifying truth of the statement.
“Are you feeling better?” Carol asked from her armchair. She had moved so that her legs were swung over one of the arms, where they dangled casually. “I came by this morning, but you still hadn’t come to.”
“So much better now,” Peter said nodding vigorously as though this would make it more convincing, “I think my body just needed time to catch up.”
Morgan, having finished her juice pop, left the popsicle stick on the coffee table in the centre of the living room and crawled over to Peter. He could imagine Sam cringing at the sticky prints her little hands were leaving. She squeezed up to his side and wrapped her hands around his neck in a hug.
“Hey,” Peter said rubbing her back as Morgan tightened her grip. “What’s wrong?”
“Mommy didn’t let me see you even though all the adults were allowed to,” Morgan said into his shoulder, her voice muffled in his hoodie.
“Aww that’s because I wasn’t feeling very well,” Peter explained. He wasn’t sure how much Morgan had been told or overheard. He knew that some of the team talked like she wasn’t there and it irritated Peter that they overlooked how much she understood, how many misunderstandings might spring forth if they weren’t all careful with their words around her. She was incredibly intuitive for her age.
“But you’re better now?” Morgan asked letting go of Peter but keeping close to his side against the couch. “You won’t go anywhere?”
“I’m staying right heresf
,” Peter assured her, and Morgan smiled, her worries seemingly cast aside. Peter’s, however, were not. He knew what concerns really lay behind Morgan’s questions. Even her choice of snack was a clear sign. Pepper had told Peter months ago that Morgan tended to eat juice pops when she was worried, they had been a favourite that she and Tony had shared.
What Peter did was risky, Friday night was evidence enough of that. What everyone did at the compound was risky and often times their lives were on the line. Was it responsible for them to get so close to such a young child with that threat hanging in the balance every time they went on a mission? Was it fair to risk causing Morgan more loss if any of them got hurt? A knowing gaze passed between himself and Carol as Morgan clung to his arm tightly. But he didn’t voice these concerns and instead wave Morgan a warm smile.
“What were you two talking about?” Peter asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He wasn’t sure how long Carol and MJ had been talking before he had arrived at the residence.
“I was telling MJ all the best stories I’ve heard of you,” Carol said gesturing wildly with her hands, “I was just talking about the time you ordered those Lavender organic bath towels for the whole residence because you thought they would smell nice but they arrived and it turned out that they were Lavender coloured,so the whole compound used them until they realised that they had been made terribly, and the Lavender dye started to rub off on everyone and everything.” MJ winced.
Peter groaned and rolled his eyes skyward. He could never escape that story even though it had been at least two months and the compound had very nice, new towels now.
“Honestly,” Carol said to MJ, “Banner went this weird greeny-purple for at least a week.”
Bruce hadgone a terrible shade after the towel debacle. Peter’s own hands had been stained purple by a hand towel that he’d explained away as a ‘chemistry malfunction’ at college the next week.
“Anyway,” Peter said pointedly turning to MJ, “do you want the grand tour of the Avengers Compound? At least what you haven’t seen already I guess?”
“Sure,” MJ said eagerly, “and Carol wasn’t just telling me about all the bad stories, but also the good stuff, half of which I already knew but some knew things I’ll definitely keep in mind.” Of course they were on first name basis now. It was only Peter who still called some of the team by Mr or Ms, though at their demands he was trying to stop it.
“I’m not sure that I even want to know,” Peter sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Morgan, I think we better go wash off your hands and your mouth,” Carol said getting up and stalking over to the couch. Morgan shook her head and turned her face into the cushions, planting herself between Peter’s back and the back of the couch as she giggled. The shrill laughter became somewhat hysterical as Carol scooped her up easily and began to tickle her.
Peter watched fondly as they went off behind the bench. Sam said something about leather when they reached the sink and Bucky was quick to rebuff.
“Ok, so tour?” Peter said setting his hands on his knees to get up.
“Lead the way, Oh Great Designer of the Avengers Compound.”
“She told you about that, huh?” Peter winced.
“Oh yes,” MJ said following him out of the kitchen, “I’ve heard all about the feats you’ve performed over the last few months.”
“I assure you half of it is overhyped.”
“Ever so humble,” MJ replied wistfully.
Peter took her around to see as much of the compound as they could manage, and as much as he was sure she was allowed to see. He was conscious of the insistent ticking of MJ’s watch, a constant reminder that they would have to part soon.
He guided MJ through the glass halls, past the personal quarters and the gym, the armoury, logistics rooms and other areas which were just empty, but would likely be filled with something or other in the coming months. The Compound had never been built for the outside world. It was something that Peter had tried to maintain from Tony’s original. Most of the main building of the compound was for the personal use of the Avengers and select members of Fury’s team (those few who had stayed loyal past the Hydra infiltration were still with Fury and their numbers were steadily growing once more). There were official spaces such as conference rooms but any meetings in there were conducted by way of holograms. Any physical meetings took place in the conference rooms of the hangar. No one knew what went on behind the tinted windows of the compound – it was a private space that they could use as they pleased, much to the Press’ chagrin.
As they walked and MJ took in everything around them, most of which Peter had designed, they talked. The topics ranged from university, to the bridge (albeit, a very brief discussion before moving on), to Peter’s role in the team and parts of his history he hadn’t told MJ on Wednesday night.
“I don’t think anyone realised how close you were to the Starks until Morgan crashed our Stark Industries field trip,” MJ noted trailing her hand along a glass cabinet which held some old Captain America memorabilia.
Peter cringed as he remembered the disastrous field trip. “She’s a good kid, but she’s super headstrong.”
“She worries for you,” MJ said glancing at Peter.
“I know,” he sighed, “she’s been through so much that when things like this happen it’s difficult to simply brush it off as nothing. Sometimes, I feel like she’s one of the only one who actually sees our mortality, half the time the team acts like they’re invincible.”
“But it’s good that you’re in her life,” MJ remarked as they continued down the corridor, “remember,” she touched two fingers to her chest and then to her temple, “we keep lost ones with us here and here and they’re never truly gone.” She echoed the words that had helped pull him from his sorrow months ago. “He might not be with us anymore but that doesn’t mean that Morgan has to grow up without a memory of her dad.”
Peter had saved his lab for last. Thankfully, he’d left the space clean on Thursday. His bed was assembled neatly in the corner with a blue comforter and matching pillows. MJ walked straight over to his desktop and marvelled at the tall cabinets of servers that were set against the wall. At the look of awe on her face, Peter decided not to mention that there were another two rooms full of physical servers in the basement, not to mention the virtual ones stored on his desktop.
She turned to look at him and shook her head with an expression somewhere between admiration and befuddlement. “Your life these last few years must have been crazy.”
“You have no idea,” Peter laughed.
“Is it weird that this is still so weird?” MJ asked, gesturing around to the room and implying wider to the whole compound, perhaps further to his whole life. “’Cause this is still so weird.”
“Too weird to deal with?”
“You’re actually lucky cause I actually really like weird.” MJ said matter-of-factly, stepping closer to him.
“Is that right?” Peter asked, his tone teasing. “Do you like weird, like a lot?”
“I dunno spidey boy why don’t you find out.” MJ said pulling him closer. Peter felt her smiling against his mouth as they kissed.
A knock at the door made them jump apart and Peter looked at the floor sighing as the moment slipped through their fingers.
“Sorry, Peter,” Happy said uncomfortably from the door, “I texted you, but we really gotta get going.”
“I don’t interrupt you and May,” Peter complained, putting on a sulking face but taking MJ’s hand and leading her to the door.
Happy raised a finger and gave Peter a look, “that’s different.”
Peter made a face jokingly as Happy took the lead off down the corridor.
“I’m sorry,” he said to MJ, “normally we’d have more time.”
“But this isn’t normal.”
“Never normal,” Peter smiled apologetically, hoping that all this wasn’t going to prove too much for his new girlfriend.
“Normal’s boring anyway,” MJ said shrugging and gave Peter a knowing smile.
Half an hour later they parted ways. Peter was put in a car bound for the SI runway and the private jet whilst May was heading back into New York to take MJ home. The goodbye had been painful, at least on Peter’s end, he’d wanted longer, he was supposed to have had longer but instead he’d wasted the time being unconscious. He promised to text when he landed, and they agreed to call at their earliest convenience. Peter had finals for the next two weeks but after that he’d be back for a month and then, finally, they’d have some time to actually be together, to actually be a couple.
Happy had left Peter with another member of Stark Industries’ security personnel, a tall woman who went by the name ‘V’. Peter didn’t ask whether it was code or actually her real name, he wasn’t sure he’d get an answer even if he did. Meanwhile, Happy was to meet with Pepper, the board and the Stark Industries PR team to discuss exactly what the next steps were regarding Peter’s identity and his affiliation with SI.
“Hey V,” Peter asked, about 15 minutes into the drive, “can we make a detour to Stark Industries? There’s some things that I need to get.”
“We’re going straight to the jet,” V replied shortly, meeting Peter’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. They were dark and looked darker still in the grey light that came from the overcast sky as the sun sunk beneath the horizon. Peter wasn’t sure that he wanted to push her temper, he didn’t yet know enough about her to gage whether it was a good idea, but he had to get to his lab before returning to MIT.
“It’s kinda imperative that I get there before leaving,” Peter said, “Stark Expo stuff.”
V considered him in the mirror a moment before flicking her indicator on. “I can give you 5 minutes.”
To Peter’s annoyance, V insisted on parking the car and coming with him into the building. She even held an arm out to stop him crossing the road whilst traffic slugged past. Peter bit back several remarks, not wanting to test his luck.
He matched her swift pace as they approached SI and slipped in through the main entrance. It was getting late now and any employees who had been in on the Sunday after Thanksgiving would likely have left by now. They waited silently by the elevator, V a pace behind him, her head turning as she cast looks up and down the empty foyer as though anticipating some sort of attack. Peter knew the press could be vicious with their words but surely he, a crime fighting super-human, would be fine if they should come at him.
V insisted on getting in the elevator with him. After a brief stare down (V very clearly won) Peter relented and told the bot to take them to level 27. As usual he retrieved his card from its special box and scanned it.
The lift travelled up in awkward silence and Peter, who had never been a fan of elevator music, actually wished for some if only to quench the uncomfortable tension.
“So,” he began, “do you work for Happy?”
“No.” Came V’s curt reply. “I work with Happy.”
“Right.” Peter nodded and flipped his card between his fingers.
When they reached level 27, Peter slid his eyes across to V and watched as the bot said ‘welcome Spider-Man’ as it always did when he went to his lab. V’s expression didn’t change as she followed Peter from the lift, down the short corridor and to his lab door.
“Can you like wait outside the door or something?” Peter asked, feeling shy for some reason. No one had come into his lab yet and it seemed like a weird waste for it to be a security employee rather than one of his friends.
“I’ll wait insidethe door.”
Peter sighed; it wouldn’t get much better than that. The door slid open to reveal his lab, much as he had left it.
He left V by the door where she planted her feet and clasped her hands in front of her. Peter felt she ought to have black sunglasses to complete her pantsuit ensemble, though the earpiece was pretty cool too. He’d never had any security other than Happy and Happy didn’t really count.
Peter stooped low over his various machines. Everything appeared to be going well with the particles and the new suit, a relief considering how much money the construction of them was costing him. Seeing as they weren’t any use to him here, he wanted to take them back to his lab at MIT.
The particles were thankfully non-reactive enough by now to transport safely in their little vials. Peter went over to the sliding cupboards that lined the wall opposite his primary workspace and rooted about for some sort of container to store them in. He retrieved a sturdy metal one that had little indents for such vials. He gathered up twenty of the forty that had been made and put them into the case, snapping it closed and setting it in the duffle bag May had given him at the compound.
Every now and then he glanced over at V to make sure that she was staying by the door. He found her looking out the wall of windows on one side of floor 27 in earnest, analysing the buildings that were set against the horizon. Even if they weren’t at the top of the building, it was still an excellent view.
The suit had also been completed in the two days he had been away and Peter set about folding it up carefully and laying it atop everything in his duffle. He was just zipping the bag up when he heard a crash and a mumbled ‘shit’.
He found V, brow furrowed, crouching on the ground as she tried to scoop together shards of a glass that had smashed against the floor. Dum-E was next to her, clacking his claws in disappointment as he trundled off to get a cloth from the kitchen around the corner. It appeared he had been trying to be hospitable and get some water for the first guest that had ever come to the lab. Dum-E had once tried to get lunch for Peter (which was very considerate given that Peter hadn’t eaten anything more than a granola bar in 48 hours), but the kind sentiments were lost by the state the kitchen was in once the robot was done. Peter had banned him from touching it since.
“Sorry,” Peter said putting his bag down and hurrying over, “he was just trying to be nice.”
“It’s alright,” she said, “I was just surprised.”
Peter scooped up the rest of the glass and took it to a bin near his workbench, shaking the shards from the bandages he had forgotten were still wrapped around his hands.
Dum-E returned with a cloth and dropped it on top of the water. Peter pet his top claw affectionately. He was a dumb robot for sure, but he had been Tony’s dumb robot and so Peter looked after him.
“Thanks,” he said as Dum-E clacked again, “keep an eye on everything while I’m gone right, bud?”
Dum-E clacked somewhat sadly as Peter and V turned to leave. He switched the lights out once more and let the door slide shut behind him. There was now added weight to his duffle and Peter was conscious of the precious cargo it held. He carried it as far away from V as possible as they made their way back out to the car, as though she might somehow have an inkling of what Peter was trying to pull off.
But the rest of their trip was uneventful, and they made it to the runway with time to spare. For the first time since starting at MIT Peter would be making the journey back without Happy. Instead it was V who sat opposite him in the jet, along with two other agents (these two had black glasses this time) who made no move to introduce themselves to Peter.
It wasn’t until they had taken off and been in the air for a good ten minutes that Peter was struck by a sudden thought. He didn’t often land himself in hospital, normally his visits had been brief, because as soon as he arrived the doctors would declare that there was nothing wrong – his abilities accelerated his healing tenfold. He must have been in pretty bad shape to have been unconscious for that long.
Waking up in hospital wasn’t the strange part, it was what had happened moments before. Peter had been dreaming, not just that but he’d been having a nightmare. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d descended into his dreams. He knew that people would say things like ‘you just don’t remember them once you wake up’ but Peter knew that wasn’t the case for him. He hadn’t dreamt in a very, very long time.
To be more precise, it had been over 5 years, Decimation not included, since Peter had last dreamt. A certain radioactive spider had made sure of that.