spiderson oneshots

Siblings

"You split the five into two and three."

Morgan furrowed her eyebrows as she stared down at the paper on the coffee table. She hated algebra, mainly because it reminded her of her dad, but also because it was a waste of her time.

"Why?" she asked. Peter laughed and scribbled a small three above the five.

"You just have to, I guess," he replied with a shrug. "It's just what they tell you to do."

"But I can just add ten and five, and not do all that stuff," Morgan said slowly, staring at her math sheet. "Why do I need to make it: ten plus two plus three?"

"Because adults are stupid and want to make things a lot harder than they have to be," Peter answered. Morgan huffed before continuing on with her next math problem, showing all of the unneeded steps.

"Peter, Morgs, dinner's ready!"

Morgan shot up from her seat, nearly sprinting into the dining room; anything that was a distraction from her homework was an automatic yes. Peter laughed and followed after his little sister after placing his pencil down on the coffee table.

"This looks really good, mommy!" Morgan gasped as she slid into her seat. She admired the golden roasted chicken and fresh mashed potatoes, her mouth beginning to water.

"Oh shit, yeah this looks real good, ma," Peter added as he sat in his own chair.

"Watch your language, Peter." Pepper smiled and removed the light pink apron from around her waist, draping it over a stool. She sat down and grabbed her kids' hands, closing her eyes.

"Do you think daddy would like this food?" Morgan asked softly, squeezing her eyes shut.

"I'm sure he would, baby," Pepper replied, her voice slightly cracking. She was still greatly affected by Tony's death, even though it had been seven years.

Dinner went by smoothly, the family of three smiling and cracking jokes here and there. Only a few spoonfuls of mashed potatoes were flung around at victims, but other than that it was pretty calm. Unfortunately for Morgan, finishing her dinner meant going back and slaving away at her homework.

With a reluctant sigh, she plopped back down in front of the coffee table, picking up her pencil. She scribbled down numbers and equations, her tongue slightly poking between her lips. After forty minutes, she had finally finished her algebra packet, sitting back with a triumphant grin.

"Petey! Can you come check my homework?"

Thirty seconds later, Peter strolled into the living room, typing away on his StarkPad. "Yeah, you finished?" he asked, not even looking up.

"Yep!" Morgan replied. Peter powered his tablet off and sat down next to his sister just like he had two hours ago.

"Everything looks good," the twenty-three year old said. Morgan grinned happily.

"Hell yeah!" she exclaimed excitedly, pumping her fist in the air. Peter raised an eyebrow at her, making her blush. "Oops, sorry bub."

"Keep this between you and me, but... I was swearing way before I was eleven, so I'll let it slide," Peter whispered with a slight laugh.

Morgan giggled and stuffed her packet into her binder before shoving said binder into her backpack. She zipped it up and propped it against the couch for her to grab in the morning.

"Can we go and play around in the lab until bedtime?" she asked innocently, eyes wide. Peter pressed his lips together before sighing, nodding his head.

"Yeah, sure. Come on, Morgs," he stated before picking up his StarkPad and heading down the hallway.

Morgan skipped alongside her older brother as they travelled through the cabin. Tony's—er... Peter's— lab was located in the basement, which meant they had to walk all the way across the house to get to the stairs.

The lab was very similar to what they used to look like at Stark Tower, mainly because Tony liked how it looked and the familiarity of the scene was calming. Peter was quick to come accustomed to the lab, but only after hiding major items that caused flashbacks. For example, he locked away blueprints for the Iron Legion since he couldn't bare to look at them without balling.

"Can we play with the acids?" Morgan asked in awe as she sat on a spinning stool. Peter shrugged.

"Sure we can, but only the safe ones; I don't need you losing all of the skin on your forearm," he stated. "Go put on your lab coat and grab your goggles."

The eleven year old was quick to comply to her older brother's directions, slipping her arms through her light pink lab coat and snapping her white goggles onto her face. Everyone had to use proper safety gear in the lab, even Peter himself, after an incident involving Hawkeye and an unhealthy amount of hydrofluoric acid.

"So we have some citric acid here," Peter began, placing a beaker into the table. "and we need fifty milligrams of this stuff. Can you measure it out for me?"

Peter had always done a good job of including his little sister, even though sometimes that meant risking her burning the cabin down.

Four times.

Morgan carefully measured out the fifty milligrams of citric acid into the other beaker, carefully setting the glass down once she was finished. Peter added some water before digging through the cabinet and pulling out a container of baking soda.

"You see, if you take a tablespoon of this stuff," Peter handed a tablespoon of baking soda to his sister, "and pour it into the beaker, it'll fizz up."

Just like Peter said, as soon as Morgan empties the baking soda into the beaker, bubbles started to form. She giggled as she watched the foamy explosions pop and burst, awe and amazement under-toning her smile.

"That's so cool!" she exclaimed happily. Peter grinned.

"Indeed it is, Morgs. When I first started helping dad out in the labs when I was fourteen, this was the first experiment we did together," he explained, making Morgan tilt her head to the side.

"Why at fourteen, and not earlier?" she asked. Peter bit his lip with a sad sigh.

"You see M, dad wasn't always my dad. My biological parents passed away when I was really little, leaving me with my aunt. I grew up with her, and when I met dad for the first time, he sorta took me under his wing, taught me stuff that I could never learn in school."

"So daddy isn't actually your dad?" Morgan questioned, confusion lacing her voice. Peter was quick to shake his head no.

"No, no! That's not what I meant. Dad is definitely my real dad—him and mom adopted me when my aunt died. Just because I'm not related to you by blood doesn't me I'm not your brother," he interjected. Morgan breathed through her nose, scrunching up her face.

"So daddy is your dad?"

"Yes Morgs, dad is definitely my dad."

"Oh. Well that's just confusing."

"Tell me about it. Now come on, help me clean this stuff up—you've got a test tomorrow and you need to get to bed."