ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ (peter parker x oc) (g x g)

sixteen

Peter's POV:

Being your friendly neighborhood spiderman was always the plan. But deciding to live with Mr.Stark threw that plan away. Literally. I couldn't find my old suit anywhere, which was a shame because I figured I could sell it for heaps.

Don't get me wrong. Mr.Stark is awesome. The tech, the never-ending cash flow, the karaoke machines on every level. What isn't awesome? Being the youngest Avenger.

Sure, they're all nice enough. But Thor is a literal God. Natasha was trained by assassins. Steve has really nice abs. Not to mention they're all quite a bit older than me. It was hard to live up to.

When Mr. Stark recruited me at the age of fifteen, I thought I'd hit the jackpot. I followed him excitedly back to his tower, where I'd met the rest of the team. They smiled awkwardly, shook my hand, Sam put whoopee cushions in every chair I sat on, but there was something.. strange.

My biggest fear was that they'd be skeptical of my age. Yeah, they called me 'Spider-Boy' from time to time but they seemed to have a.. general respect for what I did. I couldn't understand why the greatest heroes of all time would even have an ounce of patience for a teenager.

But it all made sense when she walked in.

"Hey, guys," She'd smiled, stepping out of the elevator into the room where I, with the rest of the Avengers, were gathered in the compound.

The team greeted her loudly, while I stared with my mouth hanging open.

"Again?" Bruce scolded as she sat beside him. She passed him a pink slip with an eye roll.

"Why should they care if my skirt is three inches above my knee? This is the kind of misogynistic bullsh- sorry- thing that educational systems should have no say over and I-" She finally caught sight of me, half-hiding behind Mr. Stark.

"Peter?" She gasped.

Maze Stack-or Stark, as I was informed was her real name later on- was a generally well-liked girl at school. She wasn't popular or snobby, didn't seem to be particularly rich (how wrong I'd been), and didn't really fit into any of the cliques. She was, however, known, or rather, notorious, for defying the school's dress code.

We only had one class together, maths, in which she sat at the back with Liz Toomes, and I sat at the very front with Ned. We had never had a single conversation, maybe a couple of smiles in the hallway, but never exchanged ten words with each other.

But here she was, lounging with the Avengers as if they were family, ranting about a pink slip I had watched her receive in maths class.

"Maze?" I matched her tone.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She glanced from me to Mr.Stark.

"So you know each other," Mr.Stark said, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "Great. Peter, this is my daughter. Maze, I am recruiting Peter for the Avengers."

"Daughter?"

"Recruiting?"

We both exclaimed at the same time.

Mr.Stark offered no other explanation.

Two and a half years later, Maze and I had become .. close, to say the very, very least. We looked out for each other as the two youngest Avengers. And if I say so myself, we even brought the Avengers closer. We set up movie nights, family vacations and allowed the heroes to think they had us under control.

And the night she left was the worse one of my life. Yelling back and forth with Mr. Stark, she had stomped into her bedroom, right beside mine, shoving her copious amounts of clothes into suitcases and slamming an equal amount of weapons into a duffel.

"You can't leave! You're sixteen!" Mr. Stark had proclaimed loudly.

Maze, clomping into the elevator with her bags, took an uneven breath. "I'm seventeen, dad," She wasn't yelling anymore. Her voice was quiet, anguished. It was even worse. "Which is something you'd know if you actually cared." She pressed a button in the machine and the doors closed. But not before her eyes brushed over the majority of the Avengers, who were peeking out from inside my bedroom; where we'd hid when the commotion first started.

Our gazes met a single moment before the doors shut in her face.

Nothing was the same when she'd left.

One thing I didn't admire about Mr. Stark was that he took nearly no notice of his daughter, pouring all his energy into his technology, barely sparing even a glance when Maze won achievement after achievement at school.

But it made up for it slightly in the complete devotion the rest of the Avengers deemed towards her. Gravity didn't hold the team down. Maze did. It were as if all the love and appreciation these heroes had been deprived of giving and receiving had fallen on Maze. Even Sam, never ceasing to find ways to Maze rip her hair out with frustration seemed to constantly be on the watch for the girl when we were out on the minor missions we were allowed. With her gone, laughter, music, comfort just...disappeared.

Deep down, I knew it wouldn't last for long. I knew Maze had just as much love for the Avengers as they had for her. And as cool as her persona as a villain was, I knew it was temporary.

And I was right. She had returned. Reluctantly, or so she'd made it out to be, but she had come back, just as sarcastic and biting as before.

It's cheesy, but I'm narrating and I wanna say it. Which brings us to now, in the Avengers tower, Mr. Stark, Mr. Banner, Shuri, and I pouring over notes T'challa had sent to us from Wakanda.

"We've tried altering antibiotics, creating a cure from the center of the virus, and combining modern medication to traditional," Bruce read from our previous failed attempts. "We'd get things done faster if I didn't keep mixing Stark's dried blueberries for my enlarged particles," He shot a glare at Mr. Stark.

"I can't work when I'm hungry, Banner," Mr. Stark said. Shuri and I exchanged exasperated looks. The two geniuses never seemed to be able to go an hour without arguing. "So unless you want to hear my stomach growling instead of that annoying classical music you always have playing, then I suggest-"

The elevator dinged, interrupting whatever revolutionary statement Mr. Stark was sure to give, and the doors opened, Maze stepping out.

Maze was... attractive, I suppose. To some, she may have been pretty, beautiful, even. But to me.. Oh, who am I kidding. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Ivory skin, dark, wavy hair to her waist, and the same wide, intelligent eyes Mr. Stark had.

Grey sweats loosely on her hips and a light purple sleeved crop top clinging to her abdomen, she set her sights on Mr. Stark immediately.

"How long is this going to take?" She asked, her voice still gravelly from waking up. My stomach did a tiny flip like it always did when I saw her. A natural reaction to greeting a friend, I guess.

"Finding the cure to a nationwide virus?" Mr. Stark answered skeptically. "A while. Got somewhere to be?"

My biggest phenomenon in life was how similar the Starks were. Don't tell Maze, she'd kill me. But everything from their sense of humor to their hair color was extraordinarily alike. Yet, they wouldn't be caught dead in the same room without snapping at each other like sarcasm was their only way to freedom.

"Yeah, actually," Maze said.

"Well we haven't made much process," Bruce reasoned. "We can start off when you get back."

"Great." She promptly returned to the elevator.

"Where are you going?" I called. What could possibly be more important than curing a virus?

"To see Loki."