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myspideysensesrtingling · 5 years

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You’re So Punny

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

WC: 3655

Warnings: maybe one bad word if you squint?

Notes: This is for @sweetlysilent 6k writing challenge!! Congratulations, that’s a HUGE number!!!! Holy cow. Thank you to @starksnack @spidermanstrash and @uselesspileofstressandsadness for helping me!!!!!! ILY ALL!!!!! Anyhoo, the prompt is bold. Kinda cheesy. Whatever. My first one-shot. Forgive me. Fluff galore. Enjoy.

Summary: Peter met you in academic decathlon practice and his way of wooing you is not up to Ned’s standards.

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“Peter, you have to quit. That’s so stupid!”

Shoulder to shoulder, best friends Peter Parker and Ned Leeds walked down the emptying halls of the Midtown School of Science and Technology on their way to Monday’s academic decathlon practice. Classes were done for the day and students not in clubs were clearing out.

“No way, man. She likes it!” Peter told his friend. There was a girl - not just a girl to Peter, however - on the decathlon team. She was a new student that year and to say that Peter had fallen hard and fast would be an understatement. In fact, he knew the instant he fell; it was when he heard her laugh.

“No, dude,” Ned plead, “she laughs because she’s nice and doesn’t want it to be awkward.”

Peter always felt nervous around new people. Though she was pretty, he hadn’t been any more nervous meeting her that first day of decathlon practice than he was meeting anyone else. But those nerves caused by meeting a new person were just enough to get Peter to tell a stupid joke. A stupid joke that made her laugh that laugh. That laugh, elicited by his nervous-rambling-driven joke, pushed him into the deep end.

“Ned, trust me. She’s going to like this one.”

Since the day they met, Peter spent time before each decathlon practice finding one joke he could tell to hear her sweet laugh again. Just one. Nothing much; he couldn't be too obvious. He didn’t want to go a day without hearing it and seeing the bright smile that came with it.

The boys stepped into the library where the decathlon team met to study. Most of the group was already seated at their usual table; the only person missing was their teacher, Mr. Harrington. He was usually last and kicked off the meetings, but everyone knew Peter’s other friend, MJ, was actually in charge.

“Hey guys, decided to show up after all?” MJ prompted as Peter and Ned found seats at the table. Peter sat with Y/N on his right, as usual, while Ned sat across from him and next to MJ.

“We aren’t late; Mr. Harrington isn’t here yet,” Ned argued. While he continued bickering with MJ, Y/N leaned over to Peter.

“You’re not late; we haven’t done anything yet. Don’t stress,” she assured with a smile.

The brief yet sweet smile was just enough to tease the butterflies in Peter’s stomach. He nodded back softly; whispering a quick thanks as Mr. Harrington finally strolled in.

“Alright, guys. Let’s get going. Today is English and grammar day, right?”

“Yep, and I’ve got all the practice questions ready to go,” MJ responded, clearly more prepared than her superior. Every day after school, they’d study by breaking into two teams – one on each side of the table – and go through a mock competition for the subject of the day. They used flashcards for each question and even mocked the buzzer-pressing aspect of the decathlon. After going through all the questions, they’d spend the remaining time studying to fill in their gaps in knowledge. MJ handed Mr. Harrington the study questions and they quickly got started.

“What is an intransitive phrasal verb?”

Y/N’s hand slammed down on the table expecting competition, shrinking slightly when no one else did.

“Y/N?” Mr. Harrington prompted.

“An intransitive phrasal verb is a verb made up of a main verb together with an adverb or preposition that lacks an object.”

“Can you give an example?”

“Sure,” she leaned back in her chair in thought only a moment before springing forward. “They set offearly to miss rush hour traffic.”

“What? That doesn’t mean anything,” taunted Flash, a cocky boy sitting on the opposite side of Y/N from Peter.

“No, she’s right!” Mr. Harrington exclaimed, as surprised as anyone else to find out what the term meant. Everyone mocked Flash’s blind arrogance except Peter, who was far more focused on how smart the beaming girl next to him was.

Question after question was asked and answered, with each team responding to their fair share. Finally, Mr. Harrington reached the last card of the deck and, therefore, last question of the day before they’d break out to study.

“In William Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Hamlet, better known as Hamlet,” Mr. Harrington read, “what are the names of the protagonist’s two acquaintances from the University of Wittenberg who serve as comedic relief throughout the story?”

Peter and Y/N simultaneously slammed their hands down only moments before MJ.

“Peter?”

“Rosencrantz and...and-” he panicked, suddenly blanking on the second character. Golderson?Ganderstan? He couldn’t remember and his team’s time was running out before the other team could steal.

“Guildenstern!” Y/N piped up to aid him as the other team sank into their seats with the weight of defeat.

“Nice teamwork, you two,” Mr. Harrington acknowledged as Peter took the opportunity to thank Y/N for saving him yet again. “Let’s take a quick break before we get to studying.”

“You nerds are annoying, I’m going to the bathroom,” Flash announced, seeking attention.

Peter’s eyes locked with Ned’s while everyone surrounding them shuffled. “If you’re American in the bathroom and American when you come out, what are you in the bathroom?” he teased quietly, drawing an eye roll from Ned.

“Wait, what?” Y/N asked, turning from her backpack hanging on the back of her chair to face the blushing boy next to her. The room fell silent as everyone looked to Peter, though he only saw her, staring at him as if it whatever he had to say was the most important thing she’d ever hear.

Ned groaned.

“If you’re American in the bathroom, and American when you come out,” Peter proposed, confident in his choice of this joke for the day despite his friend’s ridicule. “What are you in the bathroom?”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she broke eye contact and looked down in thought. Her tongue poked out the corner of her mouth, as it always did when she was perplexed. Normally the problems involved the quadratic formula or the laws of thermodynamics, but Peter didn’t care. Anything to see that face and hear that laugh.

She eventually looked up at him and shrugged her shoulders. “European,” Peter jeered, his grin initially met with silence.

He watched her eyes as the joke clicked, first opening wide with amusement as she failed to hold back a small snort. She then hung her head and chuckled to herself before finally leaning back and giggled, hand on her stomach as she tried to contain her outburst of laughter. A bewildered Ned stared at her; he loved Peter but couldn’t comprehend how another person could possibly find his friend’s joke remotely funny.

Peter didn’t care how. He didn’t care why. All he cared about was seeing her nose scrunch up and the corners of her eyes crease in her fit of laughter, leaning back in her chair as her feet kicked off the ground and she giggled, struggling for air, over a stupid pun. His stupid pun.

Tuesday was slated for geography questions. Everyone sat in their usual seats as Mr. Harrington pulled out the cards and got straight into asking questions.

“The assassination of one man and his wife is regarded as a major cause of World War I. Name this man, his nationality, his title, and the year in which he died.”

The slam of a hand on the table echoed throughout the mostly-empty library. “Archduke Franz Ferdinand from Austria-Hungary died in 1914!”

As usual, questions flew by. Peter answered some questions, Y/N answered some questions - earning one courageous high-five from Peter - Ned answered questions. Everyone got at least a couple right.

“In what year did Switzerland gain its independence?”

“1291!”

Peter’s eyes lit up at the mention of the keyword for his joke of the day while Ned’s eyes characteristically rolled. Once again, Ned was not satisfied with Peter’s flirting strategy nor the joke itself. Peter leaned over to Y/N anyway, snickering and whispering the joke in her ear.

“What’s the best part about living in Switzerland?” he prompted, leaning away. Her eyebrows furrowed in brief thought before she shook her head in response.

“I don’t know,” Peter answered, “but the flag is a bigplus.”

Again it happened. She pressed her eyelids closed, rocked her head back, and blew air out her nose before it turned into a full-on giggle that distracted the whole team. Peter repeated the joke for the group, earning no more laughs than Y/N’s, but he couldn’t have cared less. The joke fulfilled its purpose.

Wednesday arrived and Peter couldn’t help but feel like he was on a roll. She laughed harder than ever at his jokes the last two days and, upon entering the library and seeing her in the same spot as always with his seat open on her left, struggled to contain his adoration. He hung his backpack on the back of the chair and slid into it, glancing at her as she turned to greet him.

“Hey, Y/N,” he mumbled, voice wavering, “You having a good day?” A simple question, sure, but her eyes twinkled as he spoke to her.

“Yeah,” she responded shyly, corners of her mouth tilting up as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah Peter, I am, thanks. How are you?”

“Great,” he admitted as he spotted Mr. Harrington walk in. “Really great.” She has no idea.

“Marathons are measured to be 26 miles 385 yards. How many meters is that?”

Pencils squeaked against notepaper and fingers hurriedly tapped against calculators for only a moment until Y/N shouted out the answer.

“Forty-two-thousand-one-hundred-ninety-five!”

Mr. Harrington nodded, running out of praise to give his students as they answered nearly every question correctly. Flustered, he dropped half the deck of cards and frantically tried to pick them up. Peter jumped at the opportunity to talk to Y/N; Ned was appalled as usual.

“Hey, Y/N,” Peter whispered, poking her shoulder and leaning over to her.

“Hmm?” She raised her eyebrows and grinned prematurely, growing accustomed to Peter’s quick quips whenever there was a lull in studying.

“Why can’t a nose,” he paused to point at her nose; the tip of his finger hovering centimeters away from her face, “be 12 inches long?”

Her forehead creased and tongue stuck out the corner subconsciously. She pressed her lips together, frustrated with the fact she could solve complex math problems but not Peter’s silly riddles. Eventually she gave up; she always enjoyed the goofy grin on his face when he got to spoil the answer for her. “I don’t know, Pete. Why can’t a nose be 12 inches long?”

“Because then,” he teased, “it would be a foot.”

For a moment his heart sank as she simply stared back at him. No laughter, no smile, no expression at all. She could only mask it so long, however. Her nostrils slowly flared as she lost control, lips pressing together harder and harder. Her cheeks rounded as she fought the smile from breaking, but it was too late. She burst out giggling that signature giggle, that one that multiplied the butterflies in Peter’s stomach exponentially. She looked at him sitting next to her out of the corner of her eye before playfully shoving him to the side and dropping her head onto her arms on the desk.

“I can’t handle your jokes, Peter Parker!” she said, voice muffled in her sleeves. He pulled her back up by the shoulder closest to him, chuckling to himself and shaking his head as she sat upright again. She turned to him as Mr. Harrington started reading the next question. She somehow had a way of feigning annoyance while still beaming up at him. And Peter? He lived for it.

Thursday’s study session rolled around like any other. As Peter and Ned walked to the library at the end of the regular school day, Peter once again rattled off the joke he prepared.

“Today’s history. I’m hoping there’ll be a question about a dam or a fish.”

“Peter, this is really setting up to be an awful joke. Are you seriously using this random garbage to flirt with her? Dams and fish really don’t get people in the mood,” he said, finger quotes and all. “You know how to use dams to get her in the mood? You say, “Damn, you are so beautiful,” or something normal, for goodness sake!” Ned’s tolerance for Peter’s inability to simply talk to the girl he liked so much was dwindling.

Peter shrugged him off as the two of them entered the library. Mr. Harrington followed shortly after.

“What day is today?”

“Thursday,” MJ asserted, “but we’re going to need to practice with much tougher questions than that if we’re going to be ready for the decathlon in a few weeks.”

“I’m choosing to ignore you. Ok, first question,” Mr. Harrington started, “why was the Hoover Dam sometimes referred to as the Boulder Dam until a resolution was passed that officially declared it the Hoover Dam?”

With dams on his mind - and not joke ones - from his conversation only moments ago, Ned surged at the chance to answer the question. “Many people didn’t want to call it the Hoover Dam because they felt Herbert Hoover, the president after which it was named, was partly to blame for the Great Depression.”

Sticking directly to his playbook, Peter leaned over to Y/N while Mr. Harrington told Ned he was correct and shuffled to the next card.

“What did the fish say when he swam into a wall?” He asked, whispering in her ear.

“What wall would a--ohhh,” she sighed, having put together the pieces. Her lips widened into a closed mouth smile as she faced Peter, closing her eyes and pressing her lips together to keep the giggles down. Peter grinned expectantly, wondering if she really had the right answer for once.

She opened her eyes and they immediately locked with Peter’s. “Dam,” the both muttered softly, Peter sporting a broadening smile and her fighting - unsuccessfully, of course - to contain the giggles. She hung her head, stifling her laughter as best as possible. Peter reveled in the moment; he couldn’t even see her face but it was enough for him to know she was laughing and that he helped paint a smile on her beautiful face. He nudged her shoulder to get her attention as Mr. Harrington started to read out the following question; the last thing he wanted was to get her in trouble.

“What is one way the Europeans justified their land policy in North America in the context of taking land from Great Plains Indians?”

Peter marveled in the fact that somehow, though he had been distracting her the first half of the question, she found a way to be the first to answer it.

“Y/N?”

“They claimed the Great Plains Indians were nomads and therefore had no ownership of the land in the first place.”

Ned was right: damn, she was beautiful. Peter also thought she was brilliant, however, in every sense of the word.

On Friday, Mr. Harrington made a deal (with MJ’s approval, of course) to let everyone go early since the team had done so well all week. They just had to get through the review questions and wouldn’t have to stay and study. As the deck of remaining science questions thinned, Peter anxiously awaited a question involving the topic of his joke for Y/N. His knee involuntarily bounced like a jackhammer while he sat, his focus on the girl by his side but his mind drifting to places far away from the Midtown library.

“Two solid spheres of radius R made of the same type of steel are placed in contact, as shown in the figure.” Mr. Harrington slid a piece of paper with the diagram onto the table for the students to see before continuing. “The magnitude of the gravitational force that they exert on each other is F1. When two other solid spheres of radius 3R made of this steel are placed in contact, what is the magnitude of the gravitational force that they exert on each other?”

Y/N jumped in for what Peter felt like the thousandth time that day. Is there anything she doesn’t know? “81F1, based on Newton’s Law of Gravitation.” Flash was sick of this girl stealing his thunder and loudly sighed while rolling his eyes.

“Correct, Y/N. And Flash, I saw that. You can’t answer the next question,” he commanded, having had enough of Flash’s pouting. “Last one before the weekend. Which NASA mission in what year first put man on the moon?”

All Peter’s twitchy feelings channeled into an aggressive slap of his hand down on the desk. The other students, some trying to hit the table themselves, recoiled at the sound that now reverberated off the library walls. The other students raised their eyebrows at his sudden outburst, exacerbating his anxiety. As he surveyed the group, hesitant to answer, his eyes fell upon Y/N, whose eyebrows were raised but in a tickled sort of way; the corners of her mouth peeled up as she smiled as his goofy competitiveness.

A wave of calm flooded through him as the corners of her eyes pinched together. “Apollo 8, NASA’s second manned mission to the moon, sent astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin to walk on the moon.” He inhaled deeply as he finished his response, watching as her smile widened even further with his correct answer.

“Great, Peter. Good job, guys. Enjoy the study break and have a good weekend,” Mr. Harrington concluded as he exited.

Peter nudged Y/N as everyone was packing up their backpacks. He was greeted by her already-expectant face; it was as if it was preparing to smile and laugh just by looking at him. “Did you hear the story about the claustrophobic astronaut?” he asked her.

She cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips. Her eyes never left his; she searched them as if hoping to find the answer beneath their deep brown hue. “No, Peter, I didn’t.”

He grinned back at her. “She just needed a little...space.”

Her reaction was instantaneous; her head dropped back in laughter. Her chair leaned back with her, tipping just past its point. Her laugh faded out as she realized she was falling, but Peter was there to catch the chair without even moving from his own. Knowingly safe, she returned to laughing without even a second to pause. Peter pushed her slightly, drawing an eruption of even more as she lost her balance while she tried to pick up her heavy backpack. Finally, under control, she waved and walked out of the library just a few yards ahead of Peter and Ned.

“Dude, you’re so weird. She needed space?” Ned groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Hang on Ned, I have to do something really quick.”

Peter grabbed his backpack straps and trotted up ahead to catch up with Y/N as they walked through the front doors to the outside of the school where parents picked up their kids. “Hey, Y/N,” he called, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

She turned around, smiling as soon as she caught a glimpse of his face. His heart pounded in his chest but it was warm, so warm at the sight of her exceptionally silly yet elegant smile.

“Hey, Pete. What’s up? You find an extra joke to hold me over for the weekend?” She giggled, unknowingly making his heart pound that much harder as he scoured the depths of his brain for one more joke, the one that would make this perfect. And then it hit him.

“Uh, yeah, kind of, actually!” He cracked jokes all week but for some reason this one didn’t want to come out. It was just another pun, but this time a little more was at stake. “Are you...are you made of copper and tellurium?” He paused, recharging his courage to deliver the punchline. “Because you’re Cu-Te and...and I was wondering...if you’d like to go out sometime? On a…a date?”

Peter gripped the straps of his backpack tighter. So tight even, his knuckles turned white. He didn’t realize how sticky his palms were until this moment he waited for her response. She looked back at him, biting her bottom lip as a grin stretched wider and wider across her face until she succumbed to her usual giggle fit. Now biting her lip again, she looked down, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her right ear before bringing her gaze back to Peter’s hopeful eyes.

“Peter, I’m very flattered, but that is the worst joke I’ve ever heard,” she admitted, instantly falling back into snickering. “But to answer your question, yes, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

His eyes danced as if seeing the stars for the first time. “Really? I mean - sounds good, yeah, I’ll text you?”

She smiled again, charmed by his nerves. A girl that laughed at both his nervous wavering and his science puns? Peter knew he hit the jackpot.

“Sounds good,” she answered, eyes twinkling up at his. Her own heart swelling, she rested her hand on his shoulder and stood up on her tiptoes, leaning in to press her smiling lips to his cheek ever so softly. Peter stood paralyzed all the way until she leaned back onto her heels and turned to walk to her dad’s car waiting in the pick-up lane. She got in the car and typed something on her phone, then pointed from her phone to him through the window and waved as her dad drove away. Peter watched as the car disappeared around the corner, only brought back to reality by a quiet buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: Do you like science? Because I’ve got my ion you ;)

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myspideysensesrtingling · 5 years

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In My Way (6)

IN MY WAY: TRAINING DAY

Pairing: (eventual) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 7079

Warnings: none! well maybe one swear word but literally nothing

Notes: I'm excited for you all to read this!!! Enjoy and please let me know what you think! Any feedback is appreciated :)

Summary: It’s day one of training. Can you handle it?

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The sun creeping had been your cue to wake up as long as you could remember. It signaled the day starting and the world warming up for you to tackle whatever came your way. Today, however, you didn’t need the sun to wake you up. You were wide awake long before it was. Today was your first training day. You were starting at 7 am in the gym with Steve yet here you were - dressed, wide awake, and completely ready to go - at 6:15 am.

Your shoes squeaked slightly in the hallway as you wandered to the gym. You thought you knew where it was, but Tony’s tour was also quite fast and the compound was quite large and it had been quite the week so far. Though you budgeted time for all the possible things that could go wrong, you were essentially only going downstairs and found the gym with ease. It was only 6:40. Oops.

From the hallway, anyone walking by could see inside the gym through the windows that ran its entire length. Reaching these windows, you peeked in and saw Steve sitting up from the bench press. There were too many plates on the bar to count (did Steve even need to lift weights to stay ripped?) but of course he was barely sweating. As you ducked in the door, incompetence swept over you. You weren’t sure you had ever felt so weak. It was easy to feel overwhelmed on day one in a gym built for superheroes.

“Y/N! Good morning, soldier! You ready to get going?” Did he ever take breaks?

“Yes, sir.”

“Ok,” he replied, “but first thing’s first. You’re on the team. We’re teammates. You don’t have to call me sir. I’m helping you because you’re new, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less valuable than me. So, call me Steve or whatever else you’re comfortable with. But not sir. Got it?” He spoke sternly yet his eyes glistened with encouragement. The tops of your shoulders dropped as the tension you didn’t know you were holding began to melt away. Here was Captain America himself telling you that you are just as valuable to the Avengers as he is. Bullshit, you heard the voice in your head say. Maybe it was right, though. How on earth could I be as vital to the team as a super-soldier?

“Yes, sir,” you sputtered, “I mean - um - Mr. Rogers?”

“Try again.”

“Steve?”

“Better. But it’s not a question. We’ll work on it,” he winked. “Let’s get going!” You followed him to the matted front corner where he led you through a series of stretches. You felt stiff from sitting in a chair all week at school but weren’t sure just how stiff until everything seemed to be pulling with each and every stretch. He even found a way to stretch muscles you didn’t even know you had. “Alright, now we’ll go for a jog to get the heartrate up and then come back for weights. That’ll be our routine each day: stretch, cardio, weights, cool down. Sound good?”

“Yes sir--Steve,” heat crept up to your face as you pressed your lips together and chastised yourself. “Dang it!”

Steve only chuckled. “You’ll get it, kid!” He patted your shoulder and nodded his head toward a door in the back. “Come on.”

You followed him yet again, first to the wall of windows facing outside and then to the door in the corner. The fresh air outside felt brisk but soothing as you breathed it in. The moon hid in plain sight up above while the sun approached slowly from the east. Your eyes swept across the sky’s gradient of colors - dark blue overhead softening to light blue and even to an orange glow at the horizon - until you found the tree line and Steve’s back already way ahead of you.

You raced to catch up, but jogging with a man - no, super soldier - that tall pushed your limits. By the time you did catch up, you weren’t sure you had much left in your tank.

“I was worried you changed your mind!” he joked, breath as normal as if he...well, as if he weren’t running.

“Nope,” you panted, “it’ll take a lot more than a jog to get me out of here!” Finding your footing more easily with your muscles warmed up, you let habit take over and fell into your running routine from home. The pace was quicker given you had a high-level partner, sure, but the sensation of feeling like you owned the world came back as you entered trails in the trees behind the compound. You fell in behind Steve as the trail narrowed and immediately found distraction from your fatigue in the way the light shined down through the forest canopy. It was as if the forest glowed with minimal sunlight trickling in.

The further you adventured into the forest, the further behind Steve you sensed you were falling. You could feel your legs straining - this was longer than your jogs at home - and your ability to use the scenery to distract you from the strain in your breath was fading. Not having much experience in pushing yourself this hardon your own runs, doubt wormed its way in to your thoughts. You’re not strong enough to be an Avenger. You can’t even keep up on day one! Tony and Pepper wasted so much time and energy looking for a kid only to end up with you. They’re probably so disappointed--

“Almost there, kid, you got it! Hard as you can - we’re in the home stretch!”

Though you were embarrassed by how the ease with which he spoke compared to your inability to respond at all, you pushed. The building of the compound became visible again as the dense forest began to open up. The buildings approached slowly - you could feel yourself dragging - but you were approaching and that was all that mattered. You were almost there.

Steve was less than 100 meters ahead of you now, trotting effortlessly and still without a bead of sweat on his shirt. He slowed and faced you just outside the building, immediately beckoning for you run all the way to him. “Sprint the last bit! You can do it!”

Summoning every last bit of energy you didn’t know you had, you pushed as hard as possible, feeling the air rushing past your face with every step propelling you forward. You had a new distraction: the closing distance. 90, 80, 70 meters. Faster. 60, 50, 40 meters. Almost there. 30, 20, 10 meters. You were going to make it.

You closed the gap and ran all the way up to the compound wall, gently crashing into it to stop your momentum. The building’s cool metal shocked you as it completely contrasted your warm skin. Despite feeling overtaken with aching muscles, one thought crossed your mind: you did it. Once again the stress coursing through you lessened, allowing your eyes to soften shut as you tried to regain your breath. You did it.

“Way to go!” Steve said with his hand up, suggesting a high-five to which you happily obliged once you pried yourself from the comfort of the cool wall. He held the door back into the weight room open as you wobbled inside. “I pushed you a little harder than I planned because you seemed up to the challenge, and you did great. You did a good job, kid. Now - are you ready for weights?” Oh, yeah. Weights.

“You bet,” you huffed as he grinned and raised his eyebrows. “I could do this all day.” He grabbed his chest and burst out laughing, beaming at you while you hunched over, smiling but working hard to get your breath back.

Back in the gym, he walked you through the different things you’d be trying. Thankfully, today was primarily form so you didn’t hurt yourself with the weights. He taught you to squat, bench press, and use all sorts of gym equipment you never saw before. There were ropes and bars shaped like hexagons and medicine balls that (obviously) had no medicine in them. It was almost like learning to play with a bunch of difficult toys. Steve’s twinkling eyes as he would pull out new gear for each exercise showed he felt the same way about them.

“One more--nice!” You stood up from your last squat and Steve helped you replace the weight on the rack as your legs teetered underneath you. He handed you a bottle of water as you turned around to follow him back to the stretching area. Your head, your eyes, your shoulders, your arms, your knees - every part of you drooped. You were wiped out; your heart was beating fast but weakly from the tough morning.

“Morning, bud! You just warming up?” Steve questioned, sending a chill down your spine as you realized you might not be done after all. Your eyes shoot up, preparing to glare at him with another goofy quip - you were really enjoying those, you noticed - when your gaze fell on someone else. Peter stood in the stretching corner in a plain black t-shirt and shorts with a black hat on backwards to organize his curls. The glare vanished along with any confidence you had a moment ago.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers, I’m finishing up right now.” His attempt to focus on Steve as he spoke was mostly in vain.

“No rush, kid, I have to finish cooling down with Y/N. But hey - like I told her this morning,” he gestured toward you, “don’t call me Mr. Rogers. It’s Steve--”

“Or a nickname of my choice,” you piped up with a smile as the brightness started coming back to your eyes.

“Yes. Or a nickname of your choice,” he chuckled along with Peter before pointing between the two of you. “You two did meet, right?”

Peter made eye contact with you with eyes almost as wide as yours had characteristically been with all the shocks that week. “Met” is an understatement, Peter thought as the night before and his subsequent conversation with Ned flashed through his mind.

“Ned?” Peter asked as soon as his friend picked up. “I’m in trouble.”

“What do you mean? Spider-man trouble?” Panic laced his voice as he sprinted to his house phone to call the police. “Where are you dude?”

“Ned, no, everything is fine…it’s—” the line fell silent as Ned sat on the other end of the line with bated breath. If something was going down, he was ready to jump into guy-in-the-chair mode.

“Ned, I…I don’t…I don’t know, but…ugh, I don’t know.” He sat completely slouched against his door, head heavy in one hand while the other pressed the phone into his ear, knuckles white from his nervous grip.

“Peter, what the hell is going on?”

“You know how you made Y/N and I be partners on the project?”

“OMIGOSH! YOU FELL IN LOVE! THIS IS THE GREATEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO ME! I--”

“No, Ned, I—wait, this is the greatest thing? Not me being Spider-Man?”

“HA! You just admitted it! Peter and Y/N sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G—”

“Ned! Shut UP! It’s not true. I just…I don’t know what to do. Ok?”

“Pete, the answer is simple. You’re Spider-Man. And she knowsit. Ask the girl out!”

“Don’t use the Spider-Man thing on me. I get to wear a mask for that.”

“Could you ask her out wearing the mask?”

“No, Ned, I’m not going to ask her out while wearing the mask. Let’s explore other options. First, I need to figure out what’s going on.”

“Ok. Start by telling me everything.”

“Everything? Ok, well we met at Stark tower—”

“No, dummy,” Ned interrupted. “You told me all that last week. Start from when you left school.”

“Oh, right. Well, we were walking to my house—"

In any case, Peter felt bad about putting you through the ringer all week after misreading your intentions. You smiled warmly at him, however, as you both nodded silently and a little too aggressively in response to Steve’s question. You both simultaneously looked back at Steve expectantly, hoping he would tell you what to do. Remind me to ask Tony why kids these days are so strange, Steve thought.

Steve showed you a series of stretches to go through while Peter kept warming up in the corner. Eventually, with your breath back, you thanked Steve and nodded to Peter just as JARVIS’ voice boomed down from the speakers.

“Miss Anderson? Mr. Parker?”

“Yes, JARVIS?” you replied, having become relatively familiar with the AI during your first week. You felt weird about him using your last name since it was basically assigned to you and asked him to use your first name.

“Whenever the two of you finish your respective sessions of ‘Getting Swole with Steve,’ Mr. Stark would like to see you in his laboratory.”

A loud snort escaped your nose and you didn’t even try to hold it back. “JARVIS, did Tony make you say that?!”

Moments passed before JARVIS finally answered, the quieter volume expressing nothing but embarrassment. “...yes…” was all he uttered as you laughed and waved to the boys.

“Thank you, Steve, and I’ll see you later, Pete.”

“R-right. See ya,” Peter sputtered. Did she just call me Pete? He wondered. He stood quietly as you turned away until Steve elbowed him in the ribs, noting the boy’s distraction.

“You ready to get swole with Steve, or are you just going to stand there?” Steve’s snicker and steps leaving behind him lead Peter to follow him to the racks and attempt to immerse himself in the workout.

You pressed your thumb up against the scanner outside Tony’s lab and walked through the door when it clicked and slid open. Tony was initially nowhere to be seen, but you followed the sounds of metal clinking against metal. It wasn’t hard to find him tinkering on a bench and manipulating hologram after hologram in front of him.

You waited a little way from him, afraid to interrupt his train of thought. “What took you so long? You get swole?” he asked, focus on the task in front of him unwavering.

“I--uh--” you sputtered. He lifted his eyes and brows up to you, briefly enjoying your unnecessary panic. At a certain point, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face and chuckled while walking around the table separating you.

“Seriously, it went ok?”

“Yes! I couldn’t breathe. But I suppose that’s the point. You know, cellular respiration and stuff.”

“Yes, I know,” he smiled and chuckled again, “Cellular respiration and stuff.”

“Well, you wanted me?”

“Yes! We’re going to tinker with some suits. You are going to get some hands-on experience, kiddo!” Despite seeing your wide eyes multiple times with everything that happened that week, he still couldn’t figure out exactly what they meant. “What? Are you excited? Terrified? Shocked? Don’t kids say shaken or something nowadays?”

“Shook?”

“Sure. Shook. Are you that?”

You continued staring without breaking eye contact. “Let me ask you this. Say you’ve never left one city in your entire life and suddenly the world-famous Tony Stark comes and adopts you. Within a week a week he asks you to work on his own suits. How would you feel?” You had definitely gotten snarkier with him over the course of that week, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Well,” he thought out loud, “that would be revolutionary. If I, Tony Stark, was adopted by Tony Stark, I think I’d be both confused by the circumstances and excited about the prospect of cloning. That’s an odd way to feel, but good for you.” You rolled your eyes aggressively and followed him as he turned to walk off.

“I saw that.”

When you reached the right wall of the lab from the door main door, Tony used his finger to get into a side-room. But it wasn’t just a side room; that was evident as soon as his identity was confirmed and the door slid open. Lights flashed on immediately, illuminating countless iron suits in cubbies lining the perimeter of the room. He stopped as your gaze scanned the room and you walked right past him. You wandered around, admiring the suits; some were damaged slightly while others appeared to have never left the lab. A couple in particular all in a row caught your eye. They weren’t built quite like the others. The leftmost one was taller and longer while covered mostly with blues and silvers.

“That one’s Pepper’s,” he said, walking up behind you. The two of you admired it, barely marked. “The scrapes are from the one time she wanted to practice with it in case of emergency. The emergency ended up being her trying to fly.” He laughed again, but your eyes were already moving to another different suit to the right. This suit was similar in design but painted with a deep eggplant purple, silvers, and even white accents that lined the panels of the suit. It caught your eye when you first walked in.

“That one’s yours,” Tony said, scooting over from Pepper’s suit while you looked at him with crinkled eyebrows.

“Isn’t that a little...premature?” you asked.

“You don’t want it? That’s ok, I’m sure I can find someone who does.” He shrugged and turned to go.

“What? No, how could I not want it?” He turned back around with a wink. “Oh. Messing with me. Well...I do want it, ok? Just seems like I have no skills yet.”

“I know.” To your dismay, he shrugged, agreeing with you. He snorted quietly and walked off to another group of suits. You rolled your eyes again before trotting off to catch up. Whatever increasing snarkiness you were developing, he surely dished it back out.

He asked JARVIS to move the suit in front of him to the lab to work on it. As it moved out of its display and into the light, you recognized instantly whose suit it was. Whose suit you’d be working on.

The emblem on the front. The webbed grid design. The wrist attachments. The suit belonged to Spider-Man. To Peter. To Peter Parker.

Back at the bench, JARVIS pulled up the suit specifications, Tony’s notes, and video of Spider-man - err, Peter - fighting crime in his current, homemade sweatshirt-suit thing. Today, he just wanted to show you a draft of the AI’s code, brainstorm a little, and test out some features.

You sat in a spinning bench chair and scanned through the documents one-by-one while Tony got to work. Once oriented, he slid the keyboard to you and walked you through the basic programming.

“What is this--” you paused, pointing at one of the programs on the screen, “Training Wheels Protocol?”

Tony snorted as you turned around to look up at him standing over your shoulder with his face buried in one hand while the other sat on his hip. “You weren’t supposed to see that. You see, Peter thinks he can save the world. But he’s 15 and wears a sweatshirt and swim goggles. So, I have to reel him in a little. We’ll just focus on the other parts of the operating system.” He paused briefly. “But that’s between you and me, got it?” He asked, amusement replaced by concern.

“Sure, got it.”

You scrolled through subsequent pages involving different types of webs for the web-shooters as well as the different functions of the visual in the mask. There were some blanks, however, and Tony explained that this is where he wanted your help. Your job was to come up with more web types the suit could have. The mask would have the same general functioning as his Iron Man helmet, so that part of the suit was mostly finished. But the webs? Iron Man’s suit didn’t have those.

You watched video after video of Spider-Man fighting crime all over Queens to try and come up with some new type of web. Peter’s homemade webs had insanely high tensile strength, supporting incredibly heavy weights while remaining very durable and elastic. Tony had a few ideas for modifications but thought this was a great opportunity to get you some experience. The video you were watching now showed Spider-Man wrapping up a criminal like a mummy. He spent minutes making sure the criminal was completely contained and unable to escape. You knew there had to be a quicker way to trap the bad guys. What if there were a bunch of them? He had to be able to web them up more quickly. What about a wider net? One that could cover more targets?

“What does that face mean?”

“Huh?” You stuttered, turning away from the video feed. You caught sight of the clock - you had been watching these videos over an hour now.

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed and a sly grin spread across his face. “You were sticking your tongue out a little and squinting really aggressively. Like an old person solving a puzzle while struggling on the toilet!”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Peter stood by the door and he stared at you and Tony with a blank yet confused expression. He had just showered after his workout; his slick hair reflected the light and shined under the lab lights. He wore jeans with a gray t-shirt and blue and gray flannel on top, covered on his shoulders by the straps of his backpack.

“No, of course not. I was just telling Y/N about her old person pooping face,” Tony explained, instantaneously bringing an intense heat to your face. Peter raised his eyebrows and looked to you as you cowered with your head in your hands on the bench in front of you to muffle a laugh you couldn’t hold back. Peter smiled as you sat up with an eye-roll at Tony, whose own expression was smug as ever.

“Poop faces aside,” Tony started, poking your shoulder while shifting his attention to Peter, “we’re working on a little something I’ve been putting together for you. JARVIS?” The suit rolled back out from around the corner. Peter’s jaw dropped, the spider logo on the front immediately drawing him in. The sleek red and blue fabric had dark lines running in a grid across the front and to a point on the mask, which had mesh eyes outlined by a thick black border. His backpack hit the floor and you watched as he walked up to it, inspecting everything from those mesh eyes to the characteristic web shooters on the wrists. You couldn’t help but smile as he walked around the suit in awe, admiring every detail, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Is this--for me?” he finally faltered, still unable to take his gaze off the suit.

“Technically it’s for Spider-Man, but sure,” Tony answered. “I’ve installed basic software and AI on it, but Y/N and I have been brainstorming ideas for more features.” At the sound of your name Peter’s eyes widened and shot up to you, the screen in front of you paused but still showing Spider-Man wrapping up the mummy criminal.

“Um, yeah,” you stammered. “I have a few ideas for new web types, actually.” You grabbed the notepad off the bench and turned back to face them. You glanced at Tony, who nodded. “I noticed it takes a while to wrap webs all the way around bad guys sometimes, so I thought it would be good to have a different web to more efficiently restrict the criminal in case there’s more than one or...something.”

“So,” you hesitated, suddenly afraid your ideas weren’t good enough. Better to have bad ideas than to have no ideas, you told yourself to push those fears aside. “I have a couple ideas to improve this. First, a web shaped like a net. It could wrap around the bad guy and link to itself on the other side to completely encase the criminal or whatever you’re trying to web up. Sec--”

“Let’s do it,” Tony interjected.

“You don’t...you don’t want to hear my other ideas first?” you asked, disappointment threatening to crack your voice.

“Oh, I want to hear them all. But I can see that being applicable in the field so I think we should go for it. Peter? Thoughts?”

“I…I really like it,” the boy nodded excitedly. “Y-you said you had other ideas, too?”

Your heart swelled. It wasn’t even your best idea. You looked from Peter’s gaze back to your list, stretching up taller in your chair, inflated by new-found confidence. “I also thought of a web that would ricochet? You know, so you could shoot it around a corner. And then a tracker web that would be really small and barely visible but would contain a small GPS tracker the suit could follow. And a split web that could fire out to multiple targets across your field of vision? That might be a little more difficult because you’d need software to detect targets, but based on self-driving car technology that can detect the presence of pedestrians-”

“Woah, woah, woah, kiddo. You’ve only been working for an hour. I don’t expect you to have all the details sorted out,” Tony reassured.

“You came up with all this...in onehour?” Peter questioned, nearly speechless.

“Yep,” you nodded slowly, “If you don’t like them, I can spend some more time reviewing videos or-”

“They’re so cool...I love them,” he muttered, voice floating through the air.

“Ok! Well,” Tony asserted, slicing through the momentary silence as he stepped between you and Peter. He pulled the suit off the mannequin and held it out for Peter. “Before too many sparks fly and everything flammable in here combusts, why don’t you step out and try this on so we can test out the basic features already installed?”

“Uhh, yeah, ok,” Peter said as he snatched up the suit and darted off to change, excitement and embarrassment working together to get him out of there as quickly as possible.

“Sooooo…?” Tony prompted once the door to the bathroom closed behind Peter. “Do I need to give you the talk?”

“Give me the talk?” you asked, puzzled by the phrase. “We’ve been talking, I don’t understand-”

“I forgot you lack some culturing. You know,the talk. The birds and the bees.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “The sex talk.”

All the blood drained from your face and your heart stopped beating. You visibly shook it off, heat now returning to your cheeks in excess. “No. You don’t need to give me that talk and I don’t know what would lead you to believe I need it,” you squeaked, eyes looking anywhere but his.

“Are you kidding? You couldn’t feel the electricity?” he mocked with jazz hands, smirking at your obvious discomfort.

“Electric webs!” you burst out, thankful for this lightbulb idea as a means to change the subject. “We could make webs with an electric current!”

“Sure, that’s actually pretty cool,” Tony answered. “But we’re going to talk about-”

“This...is so...awesome!” Peter said as he walked out of the bathroom. He stared down at his hands, flipping them over as he strode toward the workbench where Tony stood over your shoulder. The eyes of the suit were changing with what had to be his expression, you determined, as he tested out all the AI software within the mask. He bumped into the mannequin the suit came off of before looking away from the suit itself for the first time. The eyes stretched even wider as the AI analyzed his surroundings and data filled his visual field.

“Shall we?” Tony said, gesturing over to an open space he kept for testing suits. It looked like the floor gymnastics performed on - in terms of size, at least - but had Dum-E and U positioned nearby with fire extinguishers and video equipment. You made your way over with Tony and Peter, who still couldn’t believe what he was wearing. “Ok Pete. Let’s have you just test out the web shooters first. I kept your formula the same for the basic web so it should work the exact same as your dumpster-diver tech.”

Peter was still too much in awe to be offended. He shot the web at the wall, where it quickly splattered out as usual. “Y/N, you wanna grab one of those dodgeballs?” Tony prompted. There was a bin of dodgeballs off to the far side, so you trotted over and tossed one in front of Peter on Tony’s cue. He aimed perfectly; the web struck the ball and pinned it to the wall just left of the first shot. You tried this repeatedly, Peter doing flip after flip or swinging from the ceiling to web another ball to the wall. Tony started designing trick shots, where you’d bounce the ball off of something or Peter had to try and do it with only one hand.

You reached into the bin and noticed there were only two dodgeballs left. “Last one!” you exclaimed while your mind tried to craft the best trick shot for last. “Ok, Pete, you’re going to start hanging upside down from the ceiling. I’m going to slam the ball down on the floor as hard as possible, at which point you’re going to open your eyes and do whatever you can to web the ball to the wall while shooting your web through Dum-E’s hula hoop.” You weren’t sure why Tony had a hula hoop, but it was definitely helping you make trick shots for Peter. What he wouldn’t know is that you were planning to bounce both the remaining dodgeballs and see if he could react quickly enough to get both webbed up. “Got it?”

“Ok, yeah, yeah, I got it!” Peter shot his web up to the ceiling and got himself situated upside down, hanging by his feet. As soon as he said his eyes were closed, you showed Tony the two balls left and rolled one to him with a wink. Being the trickster he was, it wasn’t hard for him to figure out your intentions. You mouthed the countdown so you could both bounce your dodgeballs as simultaneously as possible: “three...two...one…”

You and Tony threw your dodgeballs down at the ground as hard as you could, the bounce sending them shooting into the air. The sound of rubber bouncing on the concrete floor - just like it did on school playgrounds - echoed throughout the lab as Peter’s eyes shot open and he literally jumped to action. He spotted the ball closer to you first, swinging down to his right while locating Dum-E’s hoop. In his periphery he saw the surprise second ball nearing its peak but didn’t lose a second turning around and firing a web toward the first ball through the hoop. You jumped as it hit the wall, but he didn’t have time to stop and celebrate. He aerialed toward Tony and the second ball, leaping up on the close to get just the right angle to aim through the hoop. He landed in a squat supported by his right hand while his left struck out and fired the web at the last second. It shot through the air, impacting the ball through the hoop and sticking it to the corner between the wall and the ceiling. He leapt up, tugging off the mask, throwing his hands in the air, jumping up and down, and flooding with excitement. Tony mirrored his enthusiasm, springing out of his chair and stepping forward to celebrate with bro-hug and high-five.

You bounded over to them, arms wide open and yelling all the same. Peter broke off from Tony, turning to face you with mirrored wide arms and elation. “That was amazing!!” you exclaimed as you collided with Peter, practically jumping into his outstretched arms. Your feet left the ground for half a second and you spun - both literally as Peter turned and in your head. You leaned back, feet returning to the floor, and placed your each of your hands on his shoulders as he let you slip from his grip ever so slightly.

“How on Earth did you do that? How did you see the second ball? I thought there was no way-”

“Spidey senses,” he joked, pulling his hands from you and wiggling his fingers in the air with a smirk.

“You two make a good team,” Tony piped up, causing you to instantly step back from Peter and link your hands behind your back. Peter once again mirrored you, struggling to look at Tony’s knowing grin. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m going to start engineering Y/N’s ideas for the new web formulas, but that’s all the science I had planned for you two today. Nat is expecting you pretty soon in the combat training room. Parker, if you’d put the suit back on the model so I can work on it that’d be swell. Enjoy the rest of the weekend, you crazy kids.” With another wink, he turned and walked into a side room that functioned as his office, the door shutting softly behind him.

Peter turned to you, huffing from all his leaps in the suit now that the adrenaline was wearing off. “More?” he asked, his eyebrows elevated. You shrugged, mirroring his disdain. He inhaled deeply and cocked his head to the side as he sighed. “Well, I guess we better get going. Wanna wait up while I change?”

“Sure!” you answered, still standing where he set you down. As soon as the bathroom door closed behind him, a firm finger poked your shoulder. Dum-E’s mechanical arm hovered beside you. “Dum-E thinks Mr. Parker has a crush on you,” JARVIS announced.

You shushed JARVIS and pushed Dum-E away hastily as the bathroom door swung back open to reveal Peter dressed once again in training clothes. “Ready?” you asked.

He nodded and the two of you set off down the hallway and around the corner quietly just as when you walked together to Peter’s after school the day before. Only your footsteps echoed through the halls, but the silence lacked discomfort. That didn’t mean you didn’t want to be talking.

“So…have you worked with Nat before?” you prompted.

He turned to you as if surprised you were talking to him before quickly rebuilding his composure. “Uh, yeah, a few times. But most of my fighting skills come from the spidey senses and knowing how to use the webs.” You watched him as he spoke, nodding along and listening intently. “Have you fought before?”

You snorted and burst out laughing. Here you were, an Avenger, and you can’t take seriously the thought of yourself in a fight. “No,” you finally spit out, “literally never. Not even an argument. I’m a wimp.”

“Aw, come on. What about standing up to Flash the other day and—”

“That was the most daringthing I’ve EVER done!” you shouted, still laughing as you reached the wall of windows looking into the combat room. It looked exactly like the weight room, but instead of racks, there were large mats for fighting on, punching bags, and a boxing ring in the corner.

Peter chuckled and reached out to open the door for you. He grinned as you thanked him and walked in. “Are you sure you aren’t hiding super-secret insane combat skills? Are you hustling the Avengers?”

“Trust, me, no,” you laughed over your shoulder. “I am as far from super-secret insane combat skills as you could ever get.” Peter shrugged and started to say something as Nat walked over but he didn’t get the words out. All he could do was shake his head with a mocking smile as you glanced over one last time before your session with Nat got going.

“Hope you guys have a little energy left. Nothing too much today since you haven’t fought before, Y/N,” Nat explained.

You turned to Peter with an “I told you so” look at which he only – once again – shrugged.

“The plan for today is to have Peter with punch mitts working on blocks while I teach Y/N how to punch.”

Peter strapped on the mitts while Nat wrapped your hands. She spent a few minutes working on your form – thumb outside your fist, being tight and compact, etc. – before demonstrating. She positioned Peter a few feet away from her and wound up, forcefully swinging her right fist into Peter’s right mitt. He absorbed the blow, but as soon as Nat turned back to you, he mouthed “ow!” to you and shook his hand out. It took every ounce of your willpower to stop the laughter bubbling up inside.

After a few punches on the punching bag, Nat had you positioned across from Peter to start throwing punches. “To get started, I’ll tell you where to hit. For this first one, go right-left-right.” You turned to Peter and met his gaze before quickly looking down at your targets. With a deep breath, you swung right, then left, then right, each of which Peter blocked squarely on the mitt. You straightened up and Nat gave you a few more pointers while repositioning your elbow.

“Again. This time, Left-left-right.” You weren’t exactly sure how to do two punches back-to-back from the same hand but found that a quick step back in between worked well. Once again, Peter swiftly blocked your jabs with ease. He knew where they were coming from, of course, but the fluidity of his response was striking.

“Good. Now I’m only going to tell Y/N and Peter has to dodge for himself.” Nat walked over to you and cupped her hand to whisper in your ear. “Left-right-right-left,” she breathed, stepping back. You looked back to Peter.

“You better block these, Parker, because if we have to explain to everyone at school that I gave you a black eye over the weekend—”

“Not going to happen,” he joked, gesturing as well as he could with the mitts on for you to square up. “Bring it.”

You stepped up, taking a deep breath before drawing your eyes from his face to the mitts. You swung out your left fist, then your right twice, all of which he blocked with elegant dexterity. You took the final swing with your left arm, which he didn’t expect given that the other trials had only three punches, and he barely blocked it with the edge of the mitt. You stepped back and rolled your head to each side as he grinned cockily back at you.

“Good. Again.” Nat walked up to whisper again the series of punches for you. “Whatever you want. Try to land one,” she encouraged with a thumbs up. Try to land a punch on Peter, you repeated in your head. Those were your instructions. You weren’t sure you wanted to.

Then you turned back to Peter, who continued to stare at you with the same cocky grin and stare from only moments ago. “Like I said, bring it on, Y/N,” he baited as you stepped into position.

This time, you skipped the deep breath, not hesitating for even a moment before going through the series Nat had already given you. Right-left-right, left-left-right; you made up a few new combinations to try and catch him off-guard. He blocked each and every punch easily, smack in the center of the mitt. Your arms started feeling heavier by the second and you knew you didn’t have much gas left in your tank. This worked in your favor, though, as your arm sagged while you punched and your fist dropped just below Peter’s mitt, striking his stomach.

He grabbed the spot of impact as he fell back a little, never actually falling but wobbling back for a brief second, a smile spread across his face.

“Peter, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt—why are you smiling?” you asked, confused why the boy you just punched seemed pleased while gripping his abdomen.

“Why am I smiling?” he chuckled and glanced at Nat, who looked at you questioningly with a similar smile on her face. “You got me! That was a great punch!” he exclaimed, pushing your shoulder.

“It was a good punch. Good job, Y/N. You learned a lot today, so I think we’ll call it there. Stretch for a minute while I go grab some ice for Peter.”

You walked through some of the stretches Steve taught you only hours earlier, already feeling the ache in your muscles. Nat returned only moments later and wrapped Peter up with the ice pack.

“Isn’t he going to need more than ice? I hit him kind of hard,” you confessed, hoping you didn’t do any damage.

“No, he’ll be fine,” Nat answered.

Not accepting that answer, you looked up to Peter’s eye line. “Spidey speed recovery,” he teased, wiggling his hands and fingers in the air again.” You rolled your eyes just as JARVIS’s voice came in over the loud speaker.

“Miss Romanoff, Director Fury is on the line and would like to speak to you in the conference room about a recon mission.”

“On my way. Kids, good job today. I’ll see you again later this week.” With that she stepped out the doors and jogged off down the hall.

“Um, I better head out, then,” Peter said, “May probably wants me home.”

“Oh, um, ok. I’ll...see you Monday?”

Peter walked toward the exit but stopped as he opened the door and looked back at you. “Yeah,” he smiled, peering deep into your eyes that stared up at him through your eyelashes just as they had the day before. “See you Monday.”

You waved and smiled as Peter stepped through the door and walked down the hall after Nat, waving again through the class windows. Once he was out of sight, JARVIS’s voice returned. “I agree with Dum-E,” he proclaimed, “Mr. Parker has a crush on you.”

“Piss off, robot,” you jeered, brushing him off as you walked toward the door to go upstairs, a tickled smile never vanishing from your lips.

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