Spiderman oneshots

50- Coincidence? I think not! (Part 1)

"Oh goodness me, it's the bug again," Tony groaned, annoyance already stirring as he zoomed around twenty trashcans—genuinely what sane person would even pick trashcans as their preferred weapon?—and straight to the source, delivering five swift blasts to the guy's armor. You guessed it: his shields were made out of heavy dumpster plates.

Could this day get any fucking worse?

His stash of sugared peach rings had run out that morning, too. (He was going to kill Natasha and her greedy little thief fingers one of these days.)

"Aw, that's nice of him to join just after Stinky's shit-bombs have run out." The sarcasm in Clint's voice was clear, and Tony smirked as he glanced at the archer. His dark suit had turned into a mix of dreary brown and green after their charming villain had used him as target practice for his sewer grenades.

Tony called dibs on not being on washing duty this week.

"Spider-Man is useful for civilian duty. Let's not judge so soon, alright team? We need him," Steve said diplomatically—asshole.

"Like a hole in the head," Tony muttered, watching a projectile explode after he'd shot it out of the air. The smell of rotten eggs filtered through his mask. "Golly, FRIDAY, do your job will you?" he complained, after which the stench lessened gradually.

A high-pitched screech sounded briefly through their communication system. Tony cursed, having learned long ago what that sound meant.

"Heya, all! Mr. Barton, is that a new cologne?" Spider-Man's young voice was familiar by now, to Tony's dismay. In his periphery, he could see the vigilante web multiple heavy dumpsters to the side of a building to prevent them hitting the bystanders beneath. At least he was doing something useful besides hacking into the team's frequency.

"Someone shut him up or I'm going to make my smelly situation everyone's problem," Clint retorted.

"Gladly," Sam piped up.

Natasha ignored all the banter, which was obviously beneath her. "Spider, get down to the bakery. A mom and two kids can't get to safety because of the debris."

"Aye aye, scent-ing support now! Get it?"

"God, it keeps getting worse," Sam sounded horrified.

A red and blue figure blurred past, impossibly fast and agile. Tony intercepted a trashcan heading for the bug's back with a clean blast, then continued to try and make a dent in the villain's armor. If you could truly call this amateur a villain, anyway.

This was so below his paygrade.

He upped the power on his blasters and finally managed to power down Trash-Man's suit, at least temporarily. This gave Steve and Sam the chance to rip the dumpster suit apart, revealing a thin, oddly hairy man underneath. He lowered his arms in defeat, fell back onto his butt and began to cry.

"Fuck my life," Tony said, hovering above the rooftop on which the whole thing was taking place. Sam nodded as Steve hauled the guy up to his feet, ensured the suit wouldn't power up anymore, and cuffed his wrists behind his back. "Let's get you to the police station, young man."

"And to a bath, deary me." Tony waved a hand in front of his masked face.

Through his tears, Trash-Man looked up at the Ironman suit. "You're my idol, Ironman. You inspired me to—"

"No, no, no," he interrupted, pressing his hands against the place where his ears would be, if his suit had a pair. "Don't tell me anything more, I don't want to hear it. I don't even want to remember you."