Bruised But Not Broken - Irondad/spiderson

Dinner with Avengers

Peter POV

When Mr Stark mentions dinner, my heart starts racing all over again.

Excitement and nerves tangle together until I cannot tell which is which. My eyes are still swollen from crying earlier, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to pull myself back together.

Mr Stark notices immediately.

"Hey," he says gently. "It's just Nat, Bird Brain, Banner, and Wanda."

I snort despite myself.

He grins, clearly pleased. "See. Low pressure."

I take a few slow breaths and wipe my face with my sleeve, wincing when I catch the edge of a cut. My leg throbs when I shift my weight. I am painfully aware of how I look and how broken I still feel.

Mr Stark keeps a steady hand on my arm as we walk down the hallway. It feels unreal. Iron Man is holding me up. I do not think my brain will ever fully process that.

The dining room is warm and bright. Everyone looks up when we enter. Pepper smiles first, then the others follow. No staring. No whispers. Just easy, normal hellos.

Pasta sits in bowls at the centre of the table. My favourite kind.

My stomach twists.

I have eaten more in the last few days than I am used to. Too much. I do not deserve this. I take a small serving anyway, pushing it around with my fork, hoping no one notices.

"Hey, Peter, right?" Dr. Banner asks kindly from across the table.

"Yes, sir," I say. "I saw you in the lab earlier. You're working on some really cool stuff."

He chuckles softly. "I also saw your test results. Very impressive."

"Oh. Thank you, Dr. Banner," I mumble, staring down at my plate.

Mr. Stark clears his throat.

"About those test results," he says, drawing the table's attention. "I talked it over with Pepper, and I think you'd be a great fit as an intern in my lab."

The room goes quiet.

"That's if you want to," he adds.

My heart slams into my ribs.

"Yes," I blurt. "Yes. Double yes. Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to get in the way, but I would love to work in your lab."

I pinch my arm under the table just to be certain I am awake.

Tony Stark laughs. "Pretty sure."

I want to cry again, but in a good way this time.

The conversation drifts after that. Movies. Hobbies. Stories I cannot believe they are telling me. Clint shows me old scars and makes them sound funny. Natasha talks about self-defence like it is no big deal. Wanda listens more than she speaks.

I nod and smile and laugh at the right moments while quietly pushing pasta around my plate.

Eventually, I stand and carry it to the kitchen.

"I'm full," I say, hoping my voice sounds convincing.

No one argues.

"So," Mr. Stark says later, when we have moved to the living room, "we do movie nights. You in?"

"Yeah," I say, trying to sound calm.

Inside, I am spiralling.

The Avengers settle onto couches and bean bags. Pepper and Tony sit together in one corner. Clint and Natasha sprawl nearby, Wanda curled up quietly at the end.

I choose an empty bean bag away from everyone and curl in on myself, facing the television. My chest feels tight, like I am taking up too much space just by existing.

The movie starts.

I try to focus. I really do. But my eyes keep drifting. These are the people who save the world. And I am sitting on the floor with them.

Mr. Stark notices my tension and comes to sit beside me.

"You okay, kid?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah," I say. "Just overwhelmed."

"That tracks," he replies. "We're just people here. If you need anything, you say the word."

I nod, something warm settling in my chest.

When the movie ends, everyone starts heading off. I stand slowly, ready to retreat to my room, when Natasha stops me.

"I meant what I said earlier," she tells me. "Self defense. When you're healed."

My face lights up.

"Really?" I ask.

She smiles. "Really."

I manage to make it back to my room without tripping over my own feet. Once the door closes behind me, I sink onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

I am going to work for Tony Stark.

Black Widow is going to train me.

For the first time in a long time, the smile on my face does not feel forced.