Hoshi no Tama (Hungry Like the Wolf)

"What chance combination of shadow and sound and his own thoughts had created it?"
― Patricia Highsmith, Strangers on a Train

++

"Fenrir, on your four!"

Peter snarled, fangs bared in open threat at the golem that had attempted to come up behind him, angling for an attack that borderlined out of sight for the 'wolf: the red-eyed Alpha retaliated with prejudice—ignoring Steve Rogers' chiding about using excessive violence, especially in sight of the general populace—and promptly swiped his claws deeply enough through the golem's throat to decapitate the would-be creature.

"Cap, I know that you're always for gathering around the campfire and singing kumbaya with the villainous flavor of the week—it worked on Loki, after all—but all signs point to the fact that the golems don't show any sentience... and I'm really tired of getting my ass kicked out here," Clint offered up in commentary over their comms, tiredness more than readily apparent in his voice even as an arrow soared over the meaty curve of Peter's uncle's shoulder to land with a thick thunk in the head of the golem that had also been attempting to attack Thor from his blind spot.

"I'm with Legolas on this one," Tony chimed in, zooming past the fighting group with Natasha carefully held in his arms—that is, until he dumped her in the middle of a particularly large group of animations, wherein the redheaded assassin proceeded to do as she did best: kill. "I'm all for blowing them up at this point and then heading back to the Tower for dinner. Whose turn is it to pick the food? I lost count... two fights ago? I think?"

"I do believe that the choice is mine, my friends!" Thor yelled out, boisterously cheerful as he called down a lightning storm from the sky above; the high-voltage forks of electricity struck many of the golems spread out around the Avengers, shattering stone and clay to leave nothing but rubble behind.

Looking out over the destruction, Peter's expression shifted into something within the realm of 'annoyed disbelief' and offered his uncle his dirtiest glare. "You couldn't have done that in the very beginning?" the currently human wolf asked, tone long-suffering but resigned even as the crimson began to slowly fade from his normally glacial blue gaze. Claws and fangs also both began to ease back into their more societal acceptable versions: teeth white and flat and all too human, claws smoothing back down into well-groomed fingernails, neatly trimmed and buffed to a pearlescent shine.

In response to Peter's too-dry question, Thor ended up shrugging—perhaps a bit more shamefaced than he normally would be. "I was leery of hitting our shield-brothers," the blond Asgardian attempted in explanation.

"And the chance to pick tonight's dinner offered itself as an extra motivational push to finish the battle sooner rather than later," Loki tacked on, disgruntled expression mirroring that of his son's even as he stepped up to stand side-by-side with Peter, both men still directing their best unimpressed glances Thor's way: one bright, poisonous green and the other an arctic, chilling blue.

Knowing that there was no way to argue himself out of this particular corner, Thor instead just offered brother and nephew a crooked, sheepish smile in turn. "In my defense, it has been quite some time since we last had a meal from Katz's Delicatessen. I have found myself craving their sweet potato knish as of late."

"One thing in my life that I never expected myself to say is this: Thor, you've become a foodie," Tony commented with a laugh, clunking past the gathered Asgardians. Still, with the teasing remark, Peter could hear the engineer instructing JARVIS to order multiples of everything on Katz's menu—and extra of the sweet potato knish for Thor.

Shaking his head at what had become a standard ending to their battles here on Earth, Peter caught his father's amused gaze and gestured wordlessly towards the quinjet that was just now touching down to pick up the Avengers to take them back to Tony's tower. Father and son adjusted their stride so that they could walk side-by-side, and Peter took the opportunity to bask in his father's presence, soaking in the thrumming packbond that had been stretched thin—near to breaking—for millennia. It was... nice... having pack, having family—his father--so near once again after he had been alone, an Omega in all but name, for so very, very long.