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LAURA
'About to meet the man behind the mask and here I am, dressed as a trash goblin,' I murmured into Eddie's ear. There was no denying the fact that Eddie's shirt and my old pair of dress pants were an awful combination. I was a wrecked disaster - sweaty and pulsing with excitement.
Eddie sat to my right on the large steel table with Scott having the time of his life sitting opposite to me. He had his booted feet up and flipping through a random folder in front of him. Unlike us, Peter was leaning onto the wall and slyly watching Eddie and I converse.
'You look pretty,' he said back and nipping a frigid kiss on my bandaged temple. He stunk of sweat which was the symbiote adjusting to him, I realized immediately.
'Pretty damn hot in my shirt. Why don't you wear more of my clothes?'
I flushed slowly and elbowed him, eyeing our onlooker. Peter acted nonchalantly busy with something on the wall. 'I dunno. Never occurred to me.'
'Good. From now on, our tees only. Or,' he hummed thinking of something else. His voice was very feeble and his lips brushing my ear ever so gently. 'Even better! Sports bra and pants. Get the ones that lift the ass, y'know. Just shape 'em like, ooh - '
My tone turned like I was throwing a hissy fit. 'Ssh, zip it, Brock. I asked for affirmation. Not...lecherous...fantasies.'
'Say it,' he whispered with his eyes hooded. 'Sexual. Or are you afraid of shrinking man and spidey kid over there?'
'Spidey kid?' I scoffed. 'The boy can kick your ass in thirty seconds straight.'
'Denial.'
'Ah. The fallacies of a symbiote.'
'We are the next-level feat, baby. Some spider-bitten teenager is no match to - '
'It's a radioactive spider,' Peter corrected silently, bracing his hands over the back of a chair. 'And I'm pretty sure Mr. Stark heard all of that.'
It was all silent until we heard a distasteful groan.
'Damn it, Pete. What did we say about ruining my moment?'
All our eyes shot to the door where Tony Stark himself, leaned onto the door frame considerably suave. For a man in his late forties, he rocked the stylish trimmed goatee and spiked hair with vogue. He was clad in the least professional clothes - a Morse-coded tee, trekking jacket, and trail pants. There were orange hued sunglasses shrouding his too skeptical gaze around the room, a cursor of some sort moving amidst the glass in his specs.
'Hey, Mr. Stark.'
'Kid,' he nodded and then at Scott. 'Man who broke my suit.'
'My bad,' he said sheepishly, playing with a wire in his helmet. 'I got into character and sort of, had to catch Cap's orders.'
