Good morning! My name is Pepper Potts. I'm the CEO of Stark Industries. Welcome to Avengers tower! Before we begin our tour, I'd like to see what you may already know. We’ll start easy. Does anyone know the founder of Stark Industries?”
A few hands go up and I hear someone answer “Howard Stark”.
“Correct! Howard Stark founded Stark Industries as a weapons manufacturer in 1939. In 2008, Stark Industries pivoted to sustainable energy sources, robotics and AI, aeronautics, communication, and even devices for superheroes like Captain America, the Hulk, and even our very own Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man!” She glances at me at this and gives me a small smile.
“DUDE! Did she just-” I kick Ned in the shin.
“Here at Stark Industries, we also work with local high schools and colleges to offer internships and apprenticeships. In fact, one of your classmates, Mr. Parker, is one of our interns. So far, he’s the youngest member to join our team.”
My class turns to look at me and I feel heat rise in my face. Yet I also feel a sense of satisfaction as MJ points out Flash’s shocked face.
“Would you like to tell your classmates a little bit about what you do here?” Miss Potts continues with a straight face.
Images of swinging through the streets of New York flash through my mind.
“Um. Math. Lots of math,” I catch sight of her trying to hide a smirk, “I work in the R&D labs designing and prototyping…gadgets.”
And, as if on a mission to absolutely destroy me, Miss Potts asks, “What type of ‘gadgets’?”
I narrow my eyes, “I create things to help the tower function at its best efficiency,” sensing my answer is not enough, I add “...and I help out on equipment for the Avengers.”
Gasps and questions explode from my class.
“Quiet down, QUIET DOWN!” Mr. Dell shouts trying to regain control of the class. In the chaos, I see Miss Potts wink and mouth “good luck, today” from across the room.
MJ sees it too. “Did she just…?”
I groan, “Mr. Stark must have told them.”
“Told who?” Ned pipes in.
The real weight of the situation dawns on me, “Everyone.”
“When you say everyone-” MJ begins.
“I mean everyone everyone. Like the whole team.”
Ned grabs my arm.
“What are you-”
His eyes widen more than I thought was humanly possible, “Are we going to meet Thor?!”
Now, MJ grabs me too, “And Black Widow?!”
Ned spins to her, snapping and making a finger-gun, “Dr. Banner!”
I laugh, “Honestly, I think they’d all love to meet you two.”
“WHAT?” Ned’s outburst attracts some attention from some kids around us, so he lowers his voice, “What?”
“He told them about us,” MJ says, squinting at me in an accusatory fashion.
“What! No! I didn’t-”
“You did,” she deadpans
I give in, “I did.”
Ned rounds on me, again, “Hang on, you told the Av-”
I slam my hand over his mouth. Then I jump back as he licks it. I rub my hand off on my jeans, “Ew! Gross!”
Ned ignores my disgust, “You toLD THEM ABOUT US?! And neglected to tell us?”
Shaking her head, MJ joins in, “Not cool, Parker, not cool.”
“What-I-”
“Boys! And-and girl, cause you're a…” MJ raises an eyebrow, “Just-please catch up,” Mr. Harrington interrupts, rescuing me from the conversation. We hurry to rejoin the rest of the group in the next area, which happens to be-
“-the Café. This is an area set aside by Tony Stark where people can socialize, or work using our free wifi and grab a bite to eat. Most of us here understand how expensive education can be, so we offer discounts to all students with a school ID,” Explains Miss Potts.
Discounts are also offered to anyone who works here. I have taken advantage of that many times. Their muffins are unreal.
Together, we head to the back of the Café. The wall is decorated with pictures of each of the original Avengers and inlaid glass boxes contain certain memorabilia.
“When the Avengers began using this tower as a base, Stark decided to create an area dedicated to them. I’d like to give you all a few minutes to explore this area. In about,” Miss Potts checks her watch, “five minutes, I’d like everyone to regroup so I can hand out your day passes.”
Before she’s even finished talking, I see Flash making what I can only describe as a frat boy pose for a picture with the Black Widow image. I roll my eyes and once he moves on to staring at the Iron Man section, we take his place. MJ steps close to the wall to read everything written about Natasha Romanoff. Ned and I step to the side to read the wall about Clint Barton.
Having read all of these before, I take the time to discreetly check my phone. A text from Aunt May wishing me a good day, twenty-seven text messages from our science class group chat asking about some homework assignment, and an unreal amount of likes and comments from my Spiderman instagram on my last post. I’m about to close my phone when I get a text from an instagram groupchat. The message is from Shuri to Harley, Harry, and I, asking if my field trip to Avengers tower was today. I turn on my camera and take a selfie with the picture of Hawkeye in the background. When it loads I see the bunny ears Ned stuck on my head. I turn around and I see him pretending to analyze the bow in the glass box.
“Ned.”
“Yeeeeesssss???” he says innocently.
I roll my eyes, type “No.”, and hit send.
“Who did you send that to?” Ned asks, trying and failing to look over my shoulder. I show him the phone screen.
“Does that say-you sent THAT TO-” I give him a silent look, eyes wide, and he cuts himself off.
He takes a breath and begins speaking again in a whisper, “You have her in your phone?”
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reader is teen! reader and is someone’s niece/daughter. Reader is specifically 15 and just got their permit. Reader goes around asking for a driving buddy but nobody can go for different reasons, whether they’re busy or don’t have permission to drive. Thor decides he doesn’t care (or he just doesn’t understand driving laws) and takes them on a drive with no prior experience. Chaos ensues.
thank you for listening to my ted-talk and I love ur writing!!
thor odinson and clint's niece! reader driving around !
The fluorescent lights of the Avengers Tower’s common room hummed their usual, low-key melody, a soundtrack to the organized chaos that was your life. You were draped dramatically over one of the ridiculously expensive couches, an air of theatrical despair clinging to you like a cheap cologne. Your newly acquired driver’s permit sat on the coffee table, mocking you with its shiny, official-looking surface.
“Ughhhhh.” you groaned, letting your head flop back against the cushion. “This is the worst day of my life. The actual worst.”
From the kitchen, Clint Barton, your uncle who was the best uncle in the entire universe (as you were fond of reminding him), poked his head out. He was covered in a fine layer of dust and grease, a wrench held triumphantly in one hand. “Sweetheart, I’m a little busy making sure the air in this building doesn’t become toxic, okay? Tony’s latest ‘upgrade’ to the vents has them on the fritz.”
“But Uncle Clint!” you whined, pointing at the permit with a pout that could rival a starving puppy’s. “My permit! The open road! My independence! It’s all withering away while you play plumber!”
He chuckled, wiping a smear of grease across his forehead. “I’m not a plumber, I’m a… vent-ologist... and the open road can wait another hour. I just have to get in here and make sure we don't die. Why don’t you ask Nat? She’s in the gym.”
“She’s doing ‘intense combat meditation’ with Bucky,” you said, making air quotes. “That’s code for they’re throwing each other around and it’s terrifyingly attractive to watch, but they don’t want an audience.”
“Tony?”
You scoffed. “Him and Bruce are nerding out in the lab. They're playing chess with the world’s most complicated hologram. I felt my brain cells start to leak out of my ears.”
“Pietro?”
“He’s soooo banned from being my driving buddy. I’m 99% sure he would get my permit revoked before I even left the parking lot. And Wanda is in a Friends marathon. She’s on season eight. She will not be disturbed.” You threw your hands up in defeat. “I’m doomed to be a pedestrian forever!”
Just as Clint was about to offer another, probably useless, suggestion, the elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh. A booming, cheerful voice filled the room, chasing away the lingering gloom.
“Young Barton! I was just searching for you! I wished to tell you about the magnificent battle I witnessed in the skies above Sweden during my last visit! A flock of geese of formidable size engaged in a most spectacular aerial duel with a— are you quite alright?”
Thor Odinson strode into the room, his long blonde hair was loose around his shoulders, and he was dressed in his usual casual Asgardian attire. His blue eyes, as clear and bright as a summer sky, were narrowed in concern as he took in your sorrowful form.
You perked up instantly. Thor was your absolute favorite person in the entire Tower. He was like a giant, golden retriever who could also summon lightning. He was always up for anything, and he never failed to make you smile. “Thor!” you exclaimed, sitting up straight, your despair momentarily forgotten. “There you are!”
“I am indeed here, little one.” he rumbled, crossing the room in a few long strides. He was still buzzing with excitement from his story, but his concern for you was evident. “What is this shadow that has fallen over you? Is it Loki? Has he been whispering foul things through the walls again? I shall have words with him!”
“No, it’s not Loki, Thor.” you sighed, the pout returning in full force as you gestured to the permit on the coffee table. “It’s this. My driving permit. I finally got it, and I want to practice so I can get my license and be free, but no one can take me!”
Thor’s eyes widened, and he picked up the permit with an almost reverent touch. “Ah, the permit to command one of the Midgardian metal beasts! I have seen them traversing the streets, their great eyes blazing with light. A most noble pursuit!”
You nodded morosely. “Yeah, but my uncle is busy, Nat’s busy, Tony and Bruce are busy, Pietro is a no-no, and Wanda is emotionally invested in Ross and Rachel.”
Thor looked from you to the permit, and then a grin, glorious and blinding in its intensity, spread across his face. It was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “I shall take you!” he declared, his voice filled with an unshakeable conviction.
You blinked. “Wait, what? Really? You’ll take me? But you have to have a license to supervise me, or at least be an adult with a valid one…”
“Pfft, details!” Thor waved a dismissive hand. “I am Thor, God of Thunder, son of Odin! I have piloted ships through the cosmic void! I have steered chariots pulled by raging goats through the very fabric of the Nine Realms! How difficult can a small, wheeled box be?”
He asked that question with such earnest, unshakeable confidence that you almost believed him. And you were desperate. “Um, okay… are you- are you sure? Have you ever… driven a car before?”
“Driven a car?” Thor repeated, tasting the word. “Nay, I have not. But it seems simple enough. There is a wheel to turn, a pedal to make it go, and a pedal to make it stop. What else could there possibly be?”
Clint, who had been listening to this exchange with a growing look of alarm, finally spoke up. “Thor, no. Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m letting you take my niece out in a car when you have zero experience. That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Nonsense, Friend Clint!” Thor boomed, clapping a massive hand on the archer’s shoulder, nearly sending him stumbling. “I have faced the frost giants of Jotunheim! I have battled the fire demons of Muspelheim! I have even survived Loki’s teenage angst! I can handle a simple excursion around a stationary parking lot. It will be an adventure!”
You looked at your uncle with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, Uncle Clint? Please, please, pretty please? It’ll just be in the parking garage. It’s huge! Tony had it built for his car collection. There’s no one else down there. It’ll be safe! And I’ll be super careful!”
Clint looked like he was having an internal crisis. He saw your desperate need and then he saw Thor’s unbridled, almost terrifying, enthusiasm. He saw a scenario that could only end in property damage and potential death.
“I… fine.” he finally sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But just in the parking garage! Fifty feet and back! No leaving the building! And Thor, you just sit there and look pretty. Let her do all the actual driving. If you touch anything, I will end you with a trick arrow, so help me.”
“Your trust in me warms my heart, Clint!” Thor beamed, completely ignoring the threat. He looked at you, his eyes sparkling. “Come, Young Barton! Let us go and conquer this parking lot!”
A few minutes later, you were settled in the driver's seat of one of the many generic but very expensive SUVs that Tony kept around for the team. It was a sleek, black behemoth of a vehicle, far bigger than anything you'd ever driven in your driver's ed class. Your hands were trembling slightly on the wheel, a mix of nerves and excitement.
Thor had climbed into the passenger seat, his huge frame barely fitting. He was looking around the interior of the car with a childlike wonder, poking at the air conditioning vents and the radio. “Fascinating! This is how you Midgardians travel? It is so… enclosed. And where does the motor reside? Is it a captured creature of some kind?”
“No, Thor, it’s a combustion engine.” you said, trying to focus as you adjusted your mirrors. “Please, just… don’t touch anything. Just sit there and be my moral support.”
“I shall be the best moral support the realms have ever known!” he declared proudly.
You took a deep breath, turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life with a powerful purr. Thor jumped in his seat, his eyes wide.
“BY ODIN’S BEARD! I love it already!”
You giggled, your nerves fading. “Okay, Thor. Here we go.”
You put the car into Drive, released the parking brake, and gently pressed on the gas. The SUV lurched forward smoothly, much to your relief. You drove at a snail’s pace, a proud five miles an hour, and began to navigate around the massive, almost entirely empty parking garage.
“Magnificent!” Thor yelled, his face pressed against the window. “Look at us go! We are moving! We are like a mighty river, or perhaps a very slow, very heavy bird! I feel a great sense of… power!”
“I know, right?!” you laughed, feeling a surge of confidence. This was fun! This was easy! You were practically a professional. “Okay, I’m going to try turning now. Stay calm.”
You gently steered the car around a concrete pillar. It was a perfect, textbook-perfect turn.
“EXCELLENT!” Thor roared, clapping his massive hands together. The sound was like a thunderclap inside the car. “Your command of the beast is truly awe-inspiring, Young Barton! It is as if you and the metal steed are as one!”
You grinned, turning a little faster. “This is so cool! Okay, maybe we can go a little bit faster now…”
Encouraged by Thor’s unending praise, you pressed the gas pedal a little harder. The speedometer climbed to a dizzying ten miles per hour.
“YES! MORE SPEED! FEAR IS BUT A MERE MORTAL CONCEPT!” Thor bellowed, his hair whipping around his head. “UNLEASH THE BEAST!”
You were laughing so hard you could barely see. “Okay, okay! Here we go! Vroom-vroom!”
You headed for a long, straight stretch of the garage, the perfect opportunity to open her up a bit. You were having the time of your life. The car was responding perfectly. Thor was cheering like a maniac. This was the best day ever.
And then, something happened.
You saw, out of the corner of your eye, a discarded take-out container in the middle of the lane. Maybe it was the urge to dodge it, maybe it was a random twitch. But your hands, for a split second, turned the wheel just a little too far to the right.
The car veered sharply.
“OH, BOTHER!” Thor exclaimed, gripping the handle above the door.
You panicked. You had a split second to react. “AHHHHH! THOR! WHAT DO I DO?!”
Instead of doing the sensible thing and just straightening the wheel or gently braking, you did the thing that perfectly sane and rational people do in moments of extreme duress: you slammed on the gas.
The SUV shot forward like a rocket, swerving wildly. Thor, caught completely off guard, let out a roar of pure, unadulterated joy.
“YEEEEESSSSSS! THIS IS WONDERFUL! I HAVE NOT FELT SUCH EXHILARATION SINCE I LEFT ASGARD!”
“WE’RE GONNA DIE!” you shrieked, trying to wrestle the wheel back to a straight line, but your arms were like overcooked noodles.
“NONSENSE!” he bellowed back, his face split in a wide, manic grin. “WE ARE ALIVE! THIS IS LIVING! GO, YOUNG BARTON, GO! I COMMAND IT!”
The car careened around a corner, tires squealing in protest. You screamed again. Thor cheered again.
“OH MY GOD, THOR, A PILLAR! A PILLAR!” you screeched, as the car headed straight for a massive concrete support beam.
“FEAR NOT! I WILL PROTECT US WITH THE POWER OF THOR!” he yelled, and without thinking, he threw his arm out the window and summoned a crackle of miniature lightning that, hilariously, did absolutely nothing to stop the car.
You jerked the wheel, swerving at the absolute last second, the side mirror missing the pillar by a hair's breadth.
“WOOOOOO!” Thor whooped. “A CLOSE CALL! A MAGNIFICENT CLOSE CALL! YOU ARE A TRUE WARRIOR, YOUNG BARTON!”
“I LOVE YOU, THOR! IT WAS AN HONOR FIGHTING ALONGSIDE YOU!” you howled, swerving wildly again, the back end of the SUV fishtailing.
“AND I YOU, YOUNG BARTON!” he roared back, grabbing the roof handle and swinging himself in his seat as the car lurched around another corner. “THIS IS A WORTHY BATTLE!”
You drove in a terrifying, exhilarating figure-eight for another thirty seconds before you finally, mercifully, slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt in the middle of the garage, its engine still rumbling. You were both breathing heavily, clutching the car’s interior for dear life. Your knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Thor’s face was flushed with pure, unadulterated joy.
“THAT,” Thor declared, his voice booming and reverent, “was the single greatest experience of my entire life! It rivaled the time I wrestled a giant wolf! It surpassed the day I caught Mjolnir after it was thrown from a great height! This… this is the most fun I have ever had! We must do it again!”
You looked at him, your heart pounding, your entire body trembling with a mixture of residual fear and giddy, insane laughter. “Again? We… we almost died like… fourteen times!”
“And what a glorious death it would have been!” he beamed. “Imagine the songs they would sing about us! It would be epic!”
You burst out laughing, a loud, snorting, uncontrollable laugh that echoed in the silent garage. Tears started streaming down your face.
“You are absolutely insane!” you managed to gasp out between giggles. “You’re the best, Thor! The absolute best!”
He laughed too, a deep, rolling, joyous laugh that seemed to shake the very foundations of the car. “And you, Young Barton, are a true kindred spirit! You drive with the ferocity of a Valkyrie and the heart of a hero!”
Just then, the entire garage was flooded with blinding light. The elevator doors across from you slid open, and Tony Stark and Bruce Banner stepped out. Tony’s face was a mask of pure, unadulterated panic. Bruce looked like he was about to turn green any second. Tony was frantically swiping at a holographic tablet floating near his hand.
“JARVIS just informed me that there was an… anomaly in the parking garage,” Tony said, his voice dangerously calm as he stalked over. “Multiple high-speed impacts and erratic maneuvering. Care to explain??”
Thor puffed his chest out, looking immensely proud of himself. “I am a god, Stark. My presence alone causes the laws of physics to become… suggestions.”
You were still crying with laughter, slapping the steering wheel. “It was amazing, Mr. Stark! Thor was my copilot! He's the best copilot!”
Bruce sighed, a long-suffering sound that seemed to echo from the very depths of his soul. “Okay. Okay. New rule. No one under the age of twenty-five gets to drive any of Tony’s cars. And Thor, you are absolutely, positively, one hundred percent banned from being a ‘driving buddy’ for anyone ever again.”
“But I had so much fun!” Thor protested, his face falling into a look of adorable sadness. “We had an adventure!”
“We’ll have another adventure.” you promised, finally getting your laughter under control, a wide, genuine smile on your face. “Maybe one that doesn’t involve a potential insurance claim this time.”
Thor brightened instantly. “Yes! A noble plan! Perhaps we shall go and find the geese!”
Tony just stared at the two of you, a look of utter disbelief on his face. He looked from your innocent, smiling face to Thor’s beaming, beautiful, insufferable one, and then back to the tire marks that stretched for what looked like miles around the garage. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he must have picked up from Clint.
“You two are a menace,” he declared. “An absolute menace to society.”
The tower was a beast of glass and steel that slumbered fitfully, even at half-past two in the morning. The hum of the arc reactor was a constant, low lullaby in its bones, and the city lights far below painted shifting patterns on the ceilings of its many rooms. In the heart of this colossal structure, the residents were, for the most part, unconscious. Bruce was likely dreaming of complex equations, Natasha was a silent, unmoving shadow in her bed, and Clint was probably drooling on his pillow. Loki, in his magically-sealed quarters, was probably scheming, but even he was quiet for the moment.
But in the room belonging to the youngest resident of Stark Tower, the night was just beginning.
You were curled up in a mountain of pillows and blankets, a veritable nest of softness. The only light in your room came from your tablet, which was playing Fight Club for what was probably the hundredth time. You were supposed to be asleep. You had a whole schedule, a thing your dad insisted on. "A growing girl needs her beauty sleep, sweetheart." he'd say, usually while shooing you away from his lab at an ungodly hour. But tonight, you had a secret mission. A delicious, chaotic, top-secret, very important mission with your favorite Thunder God.
The mission was pancakes.
A soft, almost imperceptible thump from the hallway made you pause the movie. You turned your head, a smile already blooming on your face. You knew that sound. It was the sound of a god, a prince of Asgard, attempting to be stealthy. And, bless his enormous heart, he was absolutely, comically terrible at it.
Another sound followed: a faint, creaking groan as someone—presumably Thor—leaned against a wall. Then, a stage whisper that was practically a bellow in the quiet of the night. "Lady Stark! Are you perchance… awake?"
You stifled a giggle, clamping a hand over your mouth. You slipped out of your bed, your bare feet silent on the plush rug. You padded to your door, unlocked it, and pulled it open a crack.
There he was.
Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, was pressed flat against the wall opposite your door like a gigantic, blond, very muscular spider. He was wearing a simple grey t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants. His hair was loose, cascading over his shoulders in a mane of gold. In the dim light, his eyes twinkled with barely contained mischief.
He saw you and his face split into a grin that could have outshone the sun. "Ah! There you are, my little co-conspirator!" he boomed in a whisper.
"Shh!" you hissed, pulling him into your room by his thick wrist. You put your finger to your lips, your expression a perfect mix of sternness and excitement. "Thor, you have to be quieter! You’re going to wake up the whole tower!"
"Fear not!" he whispered back, crouching down slightly to be at your eye level, though it just made him look like a giant, excited golden retriever. "I have been practicing the art of the shadow-step. I am as silent as the night air itself."
"You just body-slammed the wall," you said, grinning. "I heard you from here."
He had the decency to look sheepish. "Ah, yes. Perhaps my foot encountered an unfortunate protrusion in the floor."
You rolled your eyes, a gesture that was pure Tony Stark, but somehow sweeter on you. "Come on, you big goof. Let's go. The mission is a go."
He clapped his hands together once, then caught himself and mimed zipping his lips. You were both grinning like absolute idiots as you tiptoed out into the hallway. You navigated the darkened corridor like a pro, knowing exactly which floorboards creaked and which doors were locked. Behind you, Thor was a disaster. He tried to copy your light steps, but every footfall seemed to resonate through the building's framework. He bumped into a sleek end table, sending a vase wobbling precariously. You lunged to steady it, glaring at him. He mouthed a dramatic, silent apology, his expression one of profound and theatrical guilt.
By the time you reached the elevator, you were both shaking with silent laughter. You pressed the button for the common floor, and as the doors slid shut, you both collapsed against the wall, shoulders shaking. "Lady Stark," Thor gasped, trying to catch his breath. "I do not believe my heart has pounded so fiercely since my battle with the Chitauri! This is exhilarating!"
"We're baking pancakes, Thor, not fighting an alien army," you whispered, wiping a tear of mirth from your eye.
"Yes, but it is so much more… forbidden!" he said, his voice full of awe.
You slid out of the elevator onto the common floor, which was bathed in the soft, silvery glow of the city. The kitchen was a vast expanse of polished granite and stainless steel. It was completely silent, except for the low hum of the refrigerator. You flicked on a single, dim under-cabinet light, casting long shadows.
"Right." you said, tying your hair back in a messy ponytail. "Let's do this."
Thor gravitated immediately to the spinning stools at the breakfast bar. He sat on one, and a look of pure, innocent joy crossed his face. With a gentle push of his foot, he began to spin, his long hair fanning out around him like a golden halo. "By Odin's beard, this is magnificent!" he whispered.
You snorted, pulling a bowl and a whisk from the cupboard. "You're such a dork. Come on, you're on egg duty. But don't tell me you've only got a hammer in that arm of yours, you need to be super gentle with them. We don't want shells."
"Aye, my lady. I shall treat them as if they were as fragile as Midgardian treasure," he said, finally stopping his spin and hopping off the stool. He stood next to you at the counter, and for a moment, you just looked at each other, the sheer silliness of the situation (a God of Thunder and a teenage genius making pancakes at 2:30 a.m.) washing over you. You both burst into another fit of suppressed giggles.
"Okay, okay, focus!" you ordered, trying to compose yourself. You proceeded to direct him, and surprisingly, he was a brilliant assistant. He was careful with the eggs, whisking them with a focused expression that was far more intimidating than it needed to be. He even managed to delicately fold the flour mixture into the batter without creating a floury explosion, though he did puff out his cheeks like a blowfish as he did so.
You were in the middle of pouring the first perfect circle of batter onto the griddle, your tongue poking out in concentration, when the stove let out a loud, cheerful BEEP.
You both froze, your eyes wide.
"Shh!" you hissed, waving your hand frantically at the machine. "Shhh, you stupid stove! Quiet!"
"Silence, infernal contraption!" Thor whispered sternly, pointing a finger at the stove.
The beeping stopped, and you both sagged in relief, collapsing into another bout of laughter, your foreheads nearly touching as you tried to muffle the sounds with your hands. Tears were streaming down your face. "I think I'm going to pee my pants-" you wheezed, the thought of Tony Stark catching you and the literal God of Thunder in a fit of giggling at his kitchen stove only making it funnier.
You managed to cook a stack of at least twelve perfect pancakes, golden brown and fluffy. "The feast is prepared!" Thor declared, his voice a proud, husky rumble. You carried the plate to the massive wooden table in the center of the room, and you both slid into chairs, facing each other. The only light was the dim glow from the city and the faintest sliver from under the cabinets.
The pancakes were divine. You'd put a bit of extra vanilla in, and they were soft and sweet. You were in the middle of praising your own culinary genius, and Thor was nodding sagely, his mouth completely packed with three full pancakes, when it happened.
A blinding, brilliant light flooded the room. A thousand-watt glare from the enormous overhead chandelier.
Everything stopped.
You sat there, fork frozen halfway to your mouth, piece of pancake poised to enter. Your eyes were wide, ears practically ringing from the sudden, harsh silence.
Thor was a statue of pure, unadulterated guilt. His cheeks were puffed out, his jaw clamped shut, holding a mountain of half-chewed pancake. His eyes, wide and blue, were fixed on the intruder.
Standing in the doorway, in a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt, his vibranium arm glinting in the light, was Bucky Barnes. His dark hair was tousled, and he had one eyebrow raised so high it was almost lost in his hairline. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression one of studied, deep, profound disapproval.
A beat of silence. A snail could have crawled across the length of the room in the time it took for your brains to process the situation.
Then, a tiny, nearly imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth. He was fighting it. He was trying so hard to be the Winter Soldier, the intimidating super-soldier assassin. But the sight of you, the adorable, too-pretty Stark heiress, looking like a startled deer with a fork, and Thor, the Asgardian god, with his mouth stuffed so full he looked like a chipmunk preparing for winter, was just too much.
Bucky Barnes, former HYDRA assassin, current resident of Stark Tower, tried his hardest. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenching. A tremor ran through his shoulders. He huffed out a breath through his nose, the sound suspiciously like a suppressed snort. He was absolutely hopeless.
With a subtle, almost imperceptible motion, he reached for the light switch on the wall beside him. Click. The room was plunged back into comfortable darkness.
"Room for one more?" his voice rumbled out of the shadows, a low, amused drawl.
You and Thor both let out the breaths you hadn't realized you were holding. You grinned, and Thor simply nodded, his mouth still too full to speak. A few seconds later, the soft scuff of socks on the floor announced his approach. The chair next to you scraped back, and Bucky sat down, his silhouette somehow looking both intimidating and completely at ease.
"Didn't think you had it in you, Stark." he said, his voice soft and teasing. "Sneaking around the tower with the big guy."
"We have a mission," you said primly, pushing the plate of pancakes towards him. "A feast."
Bucky grunted in approval, taking a pancake and folding it in half before taking a large bite. "Not bad, kid," he conceded around his mouthful. "You might be better than Steve at this-" He caught himself, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he just focused on the pancake.
When had Steve made pancakes in the Tower? you thought. Never. Not that you knew of, and you knew everything that happened around here- unless... it hadn't happened here.
You felt a smug ass smirk cross your lips, shooting Bucky some wriggly eyebrows that were so reminiscent of your father that it made the former soldier scoff and focus on the pancakes at hand.
ha! Him and Steve had gotten domestic at some point, noted for further exploition.
The three of you settled into a comfortable, quiet rhythm, eating and occasionally whispering comments. Bucky told a story of Steve trying to cook in the 40s, which had you biting your fist to keep from laughing too loud. Thor, finally swallowing his incredible mouthful, recounted how he had once tried to make a Midgardian "tv dinner" in a fireplace. The minutes ticked by, a bubble of shared secret warmth in the silent tower.
Ten minutes passed. The last pancake was being fought over good-naturedly between you and Thor.
And then it happened again.
Click.
The chandelier blazed to life once more. This time, you were mid-grab, your fingers touching Thor's as you both reached for the final pancake. Bucky was leaning back in his chair, a serene look of a well-fed man on his face.
Standing in the doorway, a cup of what was probably cold coffee in one hand, hair a complete mess, wearing a faded AC/DC t-shirt and pajama pants covered in cartoon arc reactors, was Tony Stark. His eyes were wide, darting from you, to Thor, to Bucky.
A terrible, magnificent silence fell over the kitchen.
It was broken by Tony's voice, a perfectly controlled, dangerously calm monotone. "So. This is my kitchen. At three in the morning. And I find my teenage daughter, the God of Thunder, and the ex-HYDRA assassin who I'm pretty sure threw me out of a window once, all holding hands over a pancake."
"Dad I't not what it looks like—" you started to protest.
"I see it with my own eyes!" Tony gestured wildly with his coffee cup, sloshing a few drops onto the floor. "I leave you kids alone for one night! One night! I was in the lab, I was being a responsible adult! I was making new, non-lethal repulsor tech! And this is what I come back to?"
"My dear friend Anthony," Thor started, his voice full of a wonderful, innocent patience. "We are merely enjoying the delightful confections your heir has created."
"'Delightful confections'?!" Tony sputtered, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm. He pointed a trembling finger at you. "You! You have inherited my genius, my charm, my devastatingly good looks, and you've chosen to use them for chaos and pancake diplomacy at 3 a.m. with my housemates!"
"And the whole time," Bucky said smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "we were being perfectly quiet. You're the one making a scene."
Tony gaped at him. He looked from Bucky's deadpan expression, to Thor's utterly sincere face, to your own trying-to-look-innocent-but-failing-miserably expression. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, like a fish out of water.
Finally, he just sighed, the fight draining out of him. He looked at the sad, empty plate, the mess of mixing bowls in the sink, and his three troublemakers.
"Are there any left?" he asked, his voice completely flat.
You, Thor, and Bucky all looked at each other. In unison, you all burst into laughter. It wasn't a quiet giggle, but a full, hearty, slightly hysterical laugh that echoed through the common floor.
"You bet there is, Dad," you said, grinning as you slid off your chair and went to get the rest of the batch from the counter, where you'd hidden a few on a separate plate. "We made a whole bunch for the breakfast you were totally gonna want anyway."
Tony watched you for a moment, a tiny, reluctant smile finally cracking his stern facade. He shook his head. "I don't have a family," he declared to the room at large. "I'm surrounded by a feral hyena and a god who looks like he was rejected from a boy band and a guy with a metal arm who is way too good at poker."
He pulled up a chair, accepting the plate you slid in front of him. As he took a bite of a pancake, a bit of syrup dripped onto his shirt. He didn't even care. He just looked at the three of you—Thor, who was now spinning on his stool again; Bucky, who was smirking into his empty plate; and you, his brilliant, beautiful, chaotic daughter.
"Alright," he said, his voice gruff with affection. "Fine. But I'm telling Jarvis to lock the kitchen down after midnight from now on. And if I ever see a pancake again, I'm going to hurl."
He took another, much larger, bite of his pancake, and the four of you sat there, a ridiculous, mismatched, perfect little family, together in the dark of the early morning, sharing a moment of pure, simple, wonderfully silly bliss.
FUCK IT! LET'S BRING BACK THE AVENGERS TOWER FANFICS!!!!
BRING YOUR IDEAS TO ME AND I WILL WRITE THEM! FOUND FAMILY, CHAOS! THOR AND HIS POPTARTS, STEVE CATCHING THAT REFERENCE, IRONDAD, CLINT IN THE VENTS, LOKI BEING HELD CAPTIVE FOR SOME REASON OR ANOTHER! WANDA AND NATASHA BEING THE BESTIES! PIETRO IS HERE TOO! SAM AND BUCKY POWER DUO! THE STARK READER TROPE IS WELCOME TOO! WANDA'S POWERS BUT PURPLE? BRING IT ON BABY! PARTIES AFTER EACH MISSION WHERE EVERYONE TRIES TO LIFT THOR'S HAMMER?? HELL YEAH!
BRING YOUR IDEAS TO ME!!
(also preferably giving Thor a little bit of content he might just be my new favourite Avenger of this writing season🙏)
the concept of the avengers compound intrigues me so much. like i can’t tell you how many times i’ve sat and looked at the same five interior pictures on pinterest and analyzed the background during the scenes in civil war, infinity war, and endgame. i would literally do anything for an in depth tour and like an explanation on where different activities take place (like living quarters, training rooms, offices, etc.) it actually keeps me up at night. COME ON BRING ME THERE BRING ME THERE BRING ME THERE I WANNA GO THERE SO BAD
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i miss being 12 and reading y/n avengers tower fics that happened coz y/n had weird powers too and then avengers took her in and then they needed someone to make sure loki doesnt kill people/steve copes up okay with the modern world/bucky is feeling good
bonus if y/n has a diff colour wanda powers and does training with nat
“Welp, let's get this over with,” I sigh and stare dramatically up the 93-story building. Right now, I’d much rather be scaling it than walking in the front door.
Ned knocks me out of my day dreaming. “Come on, dude, it'll be fun!” he says, grabbing my bag, dragging me forward. Well, I let him drag me forward.
MJ turns around in front of us to walk backwards so she can talk with us. “I'm sure it’ll be lots fun,” she smirks.
I look over to Ned with a nervous smile. He looks terrified.
“Why are you being positive?” I ask tentatively.
MJ smirks devilishly and turns back around, “I'm sure it will be fun watching you get embarrassed by everyone you work with.”
“You don't think they'd-I asked them not to-”
Ned cuts me off, “Oh they totally will, Pete.”
I groan and pull my hoodie over my head. Sadly it does little to dull the annoying, stupid sound of Flash’s dumb remarks.
“OOOOO PENIS PARKER ARE YOU SCARED????” He rushes up, cutting between Ned and I. I keep my head down and try to ignore him. So does Ned, “Pretty soon everyone's gonna know your internship is a faaaake.”
“It’s just as fake as your grades are real,” I roll my eyes trying not to listen to the voice that's telling me to simply web him to a wall somewhere.
“Yeah, shut up, Flash. You know it's not fake,” Ned mumbles.
“What was that? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you-”
“He said shut up. It's concerning that you couldn't hear him, Eugene. You might want to think about getting your hearing tested,” MJ says, cutting him off.
Flash gives her a look, “It’s Flash. No one asked you, nerd.”
She squints and raises an eyebrow, “Says the one who's been squealing about this field trip for the last month.”
Flash goes red and I hear Ned laugh. Flash rounds on him, “Oh you think that's funny, do you-”
“Mr. Thompson!” Mr. Harrington shouts from behind us on the sidewalk. We all watch awkwardly as his bag gets stuck on a post, “I don't have time-” he grunts as he wrestles with his bag, “-to deal with this. Please step away from Mr. Parker and Mr. Leeds.”
Flash rolls his eyes, “This isn't over-”
“Roger that,” MJ interrupts once again.
Flash opens his mouth, closes it seeing Mr. Harrington glaring at him, and sulks away.
“He annoys the shit out of me,” MJ groans.
“Yup,” Ned agrees.
I nod, reaching out to grab the door of Avengers Tower from a classmate ahead of me. We all sigh as we step into the heated lobby. I pull off my hood and let my shoulders relax. Maybe I'm just being dramatic. It's not like anyone's going to call me out or anything-
“PARKER!” A shout cuts through the bustling lobby. I stand on my toes to try to see who is quite literally calling me out. I catch sight of a shock of bright pink hair and a waving hand. I wave back to Camille.
“I'll be, give me-one sec,” I say to Ned and MJ. I sidestep our classmates who are all giving me varying looks of confusion, annoyance, and sympathy.
“Hey Cam, ¿Cómo estás?” I ask once I get around my class.
“Yo trabajo con idiotas, Parker,” Cam complains, gesturing to a notebook on her hand.
“Real.”
I turn around to see MJ and Ned behind me,“I told you guys to-”
“Do I look like I care?” MJ asks blankly.
I raise an eyebrow.
“...ok, maybe I care…but barely at all…”
“Hi!” Ned waves and smiles at Camille, “I'm Ned, this is MJ.”
“Sup.”
“I'm Camille, I work with Parker here,” she elbows, “while he's not ditching us all for school, that is.”
I see MJ scan Cam, trying to figure her out “What do you do here?”
Cam hands MJ the notebook she had been waving around earlier. Doodles cover the margins of the open page titled “wall art thing”.
MJ scans over the rough design for a gigantic Avengers mural.
Cam rocks on her heels, “I work to make sure this place looks welcoming and not like only male engineers work here.”
I look over MJ’s shoulder at the drawing. “Where are you guys painting this?”
Camille steps back and gestures to the large blank wall behind the reception desk like Vanna White. MJ holds the notebook up to the wall, then she hands it back to Camille.
“Thor's missing a leg, but other than that it looks great.”
Camille grabs it back and holds it to her face, “You've got to be kidding me. Where the hell did his leg go?”
“Maybe it ran away?” Ned jokes.
“In that case,” Cam backs up holding the notebook, “I need to go catch it. ¡Adios! Oh! Miss Potts should be here any minute to start your tour! Bye!” She disappears up the stairs.
MJ rounds on me, “Did she just say that Pepper Potts is giving us our tour?”
Ned turns to me now as well, “Waitwaitwait THE Pepper Potts?!?! Dude, why didn't you tell us?”
“She's the CEO of one of the most sustainable, energy efficient, and innovative companies in the world-”
“-And she's Tony Stark's fiancé.”
I start walking back to rejoin the group. “You met Mr. Stark before,” I comment quietly.
“But not his fiancé. She must be amazing!”
MJ smacks him, “You can stop drooling, she's right there.”
“I wasn't-did you just say she's-” Ned spins around and I look up. I hear the recognizable click of her high heels before I see Miss Potts. She walks up to Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dell, the other teacher who accompanied us on the trip. They exchange a handshake before she turns to our class.
