Avengers One-Shots

(Peter) Oh No, The Despair

Peter Parker broke into a sprint, almost knocking over a man with a strange looking shiny arm. He swung his school bag (which contained his suit) over his shoulder and that's when he finally arrived at his home. Or what was left of his home.

The building was in flames.

There was quite the commotion. Peter cursed under his breath. He could've swung over here in his suit and helped. Instead, he was forced to watch some brave men in big suits walking in and out of the rusty brick building, carrying people.

It had an awful lot of wood structuring and wooden doors for a brick building.

Peter went to go sit down on the curb and wait for May, but an officer put a hand on his shoulder.

"Young man. Do you live here?"

Peter mumbled under his breath and the man asked him to repeat himself. "Yes, I do. I think my aunt–" Peter stopped talking abruptly when the officer steered Peter around and pointed a finger at the entrance.

"Him. That man right there is the last person we found. It's not safe to go back up there looking for more. Let's see if you recognize your aunt. All right? Oh, and I'm Toby by the way."

Toby led Peter to an area where lots of stretchers were set out. They silently walked side by side, looking at the victims of the great fire. When they had reached the last person — dead or alive, Peter shook his head sadly.

"Well? No. Then... Then you're off with the police and then child services. I'm sorry, kid, but you'll most likely end up in foster care and orphanages."

Everything around him seemed to freeze. Peter wanted to run. He wanted to run as far as his legs could take him, without a worry in his mind. Or swing, swinging was better. Under a mask in which nobody knew his true identity; a teenage orphan. He wanted to not feel the pain, the emotional pain. And most importantly, he didn't want to show it. Instead of crying, he balled his fists and walked over to the group of solemn looking children, barely accepting what had just happened.

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Plopping down on his bed, Peter rubbed his eyes. He was tired. Tired of it all. But the way the younger children looked up to him, the way they wanted him to play with him, read books with him, hang out with them, made Peter smile. It was nice. Other than the fact he experienced restless nights and that boyfriend of the headmistress always liked to "playfully" practice a punch or two on Peter after dinner. Life was absolutely fine for the teenager.

He went out for patrol every night. Now that he had failed both his aunt and uncle, he felt it was his duty to protect Queens from every harm possible. He had power, and he was going to be awfully responsible with it. He couldn't let anyone else down.

Since it was after dinner, Peter decided to go in to patrol early. Maybe he'd have better luck sleeping tonight if he came back early. The headmistress didn't care where he was going every night. He didn't think she even noticed him gone. As long as everyone showed up for every meal, it was fine with her.

After putting on his suit in an alley and hiding his backpack. Peter swung up, and away. Off to help Queens.

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2 hours earlier.

"Team meeting! Team meeting!"

Tony walked around the common rooms, yelling and clapping his hands instead of asking Friday to notify his teammates.

"Team meeting!"