welcome to the shit show, babes!~
this book is full to the brim with avengers oneshots and the like, so enjoy your (albeit chaotic) stay here. the stories mainly centre around Peter and others, but there are a couple that don't if that's what you're...
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I've literally been working on this story for mONTHS WHY IS IT SO HARD TO MAKE WORDS GO
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH BRAIN I USED??? so much So much brain cell Empty
Head empty
E
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As per usual, Peter was comfortably huddled up on the couch in his spacious bedroom that Mr. Stark had so kindly given him. Something about a 'welcome gift' since he moved into the Avengers Towers. As if having his own room was a luxury. Peter brushed the thought off and went back to sipping on his hot cocoa, a bounty of blankets over his lap and haphazardly strewn across the rest of the couch, should gravity suddenly increase and force him to lie down. One could never be too careful.
He wiped his top lip with the back of his hand, whipped cream now smattered on his wrist. He mumbled something about it being far too sticky and attempted to clean his hand by licking it off. He set the cocoa down lest he spill it everywhere and blew upwards against the strands of hair falling into his eyes. A cough sounded behind him, making him jump and fling his hands in the air. Good thing he'd put the cocoa down, or a whole lot more licking would be needed. Or a shower. Because Peter was a normal human being. Of course.
He turned around to see the culprit, very confused since all the avengers were on a mission that he was 'too young' to go to. 'Too young my ass' he mentally cursed before actually trying to focus again. The one and only Ant Man stood about 20 feet away from him, a strange red colour crawling up the base of his neck as he stood in the doorway. Maybe he was sick.
"Are you okay, Mr. Lang?" Peter asked with a tilt of his head, fluffy hair again falling into his face. He blew it out of the way.
"I'm fine, fine. Yeah, just a scratchy throat is all."
"Oh okay, good." Scott have him a lopsided smile and went to grab a drink from the kitchen. Peter shrugged it off and went back to drinking his delicious hot cocoa. The warmness of the mug seeping into his hands was almost intoxicating, it felt like cozy nights at your grandmother's house, or a hug from a friend that you haven't seen in far too long. He sighed through his nose in content and cozied himself further into the blankets he'd made a nest of.
"Whatcha doin'?" Scott asked in a cheery voice, throwing himself onto the couch next to him and completely ruining the chaotic mess of cushions and blankets he'd set up for the exact moment when the force of gravity would inevitably make him lie down, his eyelids probably falling closed along the way.
"Drinking hot cocoa! Mr. Stark isn't here to stop me so I raided his 'secret' stash. It's not that secret, really. It's just in the cupboard at the back, he thinks nobody looks there because we're all too busy eating the good stuff at the front, but I know better. He really shouldn't have thought that a hiding place like that would keep me out, besides, I could practically smell it with how much he has. Why does he keep it all to himself anyway? There's like, kilos of the stuff back there. That's just selfish." Peter really hadn't realised he'd been rambling until he looked back up at Scott, the man giving him a lazy smile. He felt his ears burn and looked down at his lap, Scott had always made him feel like a blushing schoolgirl. But it meant nothing, obviously. Because Peter was a normal human being who definitely hadn't fallen for an older man with a child and an ex-wife. Of course.
