The Avengers compound was quieter than normal Saturday night. The television flickered in the corner as the men switched flipped back and forth between NFL games. Natasha and Wanda chatted amongst themselves ignoring the sporting event like it was their job. Shouting resulted to a bare minimum much to the surprise of the young teenager propped on the kitchen bar stool. Peter Parker had been apart of the Avengers for a little over three months and never in his time apart of the team had he witnessed them so lifeless. The Avengers slumped around like deflated balloons lacking interest in all activities.
A soft sigh fell from Peter's soft lips while he pushed himself off the metal seat. His warm brown eyes fell to the watch fasten around his wrist. 10:06, Aunt May would expect him home by midnight but with the lack of activity, calling it a night didn't seem like such a horrible option. Peter was use to hating the time that rolled around when he was forced to take the long haul back to his apartment. The train rides were sketchy, the walk in the cold was gruesome, and the local New York civilians had a tendency to be the most bitter people in the world. But out of all the things Peter hated about having to leaving the tower, Y/n was by far the most.
Y/n Stark was an unoffical, offical member of the Avengers. She had no special abilities, no inhuman strength, or mind control power... she was normal. Well, as normal as being a Stark can get. One thing she was aside from normal by far was brilliant. Peter had never witnessed someone solve any given algorithm as fast as she did. Numbers flew at light speed through her brain, and answers popped out at any evan faster rate. Y/n attended a private institute in the upper end of Manhattan, a prep school in short terms. From the small bits of info Peter picked up from Tony, she absolutely loathed the school. Her friends were as fake as their money, her teachers has their noses sniffing the sky, and the lunch tasted like meat that had been left in a Texas car for three weeks.
Peter was infatuated by her in ways he didn't know were possible. For example, his palms precipitated at the sight of her and his knees grew weak hearing her voice break through the thin air. There was only one small, slight, dim lit problem, Peter Parker was one hundred percent sure Y/n Stark had no interest in him. They talked, sure, part of Peter even considered her as a friend. She laughed at his joked, spared him time chatting away on rides back from missions, and she had even helped him with his homework in exchange for his assistance on her Chemistry work.
Y/n was usually hanging out with the Avengers whenever they returned home from missions or locked away in her room working on homework. Peter had prayed for her to join the team all night but she had yet to make an appearance. He wondered if she was even home, maybe he was just wasting his time. Peter shoved the distant thought of Y/n from his mind and slung his backpack around his shoulder heading for the elevator. Tony Stark glanced up from his phone, eyebrows raised and called out the boy.
"You heading home already, Parker?" Stark would had offered him a ride but he knew Peter would only refuse.
"Uh, yeah. Figured I could catch up on a bit of sleep before we save the world again and I've got some homework I should get started on." Tony held back from letting out a chuckle.
"Alright, kid. Send me a text when you make it home so I don't feel responsible for your death. Oh and say hi to your Aunt May for me." Of course, Peter thought to himself. Tony Stark took an odd liking to Peter's, as he addressed her, 'unusually hot Aunt'. Shaking his head, Peter shoved the beanie Rhodey bought him for Christmas over his head and fought off a gag at the thought of May and Tony.
"Will do, Mr. Stark. Have a goodnight everyone." Waving to the rest of the team Peter reached forward pushing in the level one button on the panel. The circular button went blue then back to colorless signaling his message was received. The rest of the Avengers chorused in their farewells biding the teen a good night. Steve Rogers stood from his spot weaving around the massive leather couch planting his hand heavily on Peter's shoulder squeezing it.
