#gleevengers

Tony shrugged. “Just wondering why that is,”

“You and my counselor both,” Puck gruffed.

“Yeah. Right. Well, kid, this is the big leagues now. There’s a time and a place for trouble, or so I’m told, and when you’re on mission is not the time or the place. That’s all my advice for you on that front.”

Puck stared at him. “That’s all your wisdom for me?”

“I’m no expert on staying out of trouble either, Noah.”

“Puck.”

“Right, yeah. Anyway, here’s my lab. Your room’s up on 44, but I think you know how to put yourself to bed, right?” Tony looked at him over the rim of his sunglasses before taking them off and tossing them haphazardly onto a desk.

“This is where the magic happens,” Tony continued. “You any good at tech?”

Puck shrugged. “I passed woodshop okay.” He went to reach for a what looked like a joystick on the desk, but Tony stopped him.

“Don’t play with anything ‘till you know what it does. Or at least what you think it does. Because this--hey, where--oh. Yeah. Beautiful, right?”

Puck had just noticed the row of cars along the far wall of the garage, in every color from blue to red to black to silver to green to white. They were Lambos, Maserati, everything he and Finn salivated over in Mechanic Monthly. They were beautiful.

“So, since I’m like your student or whatever, does that mean I get to drive--”

“No.”

“But--”

“No. I don’t even think you have your license.” Tony ignored his protestations. “You’re not here to play with my toys. I’m the only one who gets to play with my toys. Unless you happen to have, oh, about ten million dollars on hand,”

Puck blanched, then hardered. “That’s garbage. What the hell am I supposed to do here, then? Sit and watch you work?”

Tony shrugged. “Basically. Iron Man--that’s me--works alone, almost always. Almost. And Pepper seems to think that you’re…” Tony sighed and squinted. “The new me. I tried to tell her that was crazy, since there’s only one me, but...well, here you are. So you’re going to watch me work until we figure out what work you can do yourself.”

“Garbage,” Puck repeated. “I can do work. They told us that we were special. How--what sort of ‘special’ do they think I am, anyway?”

Tony shrugged. “They don’t know. Do you?”

Puck faltered, shook his head. “No.”

“Then you get to watch.” Tony paused, then sighed. “Look, Puck. I don’t--I’m not--I want to help you, but I don’t know if I know...how to do that. Not yet. So for now, I’ll show you how everything works, and then maybe we can take one of the cars for a spin or something, okay?”

Puck considered him for a full thirty seconds, then shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Tony seemed pleased, because he clapped his hands together and grinned. “Excellent. Jarvis, bring up the displays.”

Of course, sir. Puck jumped and looked up, above them.

“What was--”

“That’s Jarvis. He takes care of the house.”

At your service, Mr. Puckerman.

“Weird.” Puck said, shaking his head. When he refocused, there were bright blue holographs all around them, all with readings and words and numbers that Puck didn’t even kind of understand. “Woah. Weird.”

“This is everything relating to the building. Cameras, sensors, security. Oh, right, while you’re here, I should give you a code. Put your hand there.” Tony said, waving a hand. As he did, a screen on the wall nearest him blinked to life. Puck raised his eyebrows and eyed it suspiciously, but shrugged when Tony gestured for him to get on with it.

He pressed his hand to the cool metal, then took it back as soon as it flashed scan completed.

“First lesson,” Tony said, “Don’t ever touch anything if you don’t know what it is or what it does. You have no idea what that could have been.”

“You just said--”

Tony looked at him, serious for the first time since they left the conference room. “People are liars, Puck. People can and will let you down.”

“Trust me, I know,” Puck retorted, uncomfortable with the sudden sobriety of the conversation. “But I thought I was supposed to trust my mentor.”

Tony nodded after a minute. “You are. That’s why that thing did exactly what I said it did; took a scan of your palm so I can give you access to the building. Here’s your code.” He handed Puck a slip of paper with five numbers on it. “Randomly generated. Remember them, I don’t have time to make all you kids new codes every other minute.”

“Sure,” Puck said,  stuffing it in the pocket of his jacket. “So what now?”

“Let me introduce you to the gang.” Puck let Tony lead him through the lab, introducing him in turn to each of the machines. It seemed a little mental to Puck, since they were just machines after all. But still, it was kind of nice to see the Tony Stark in his natural element, talking to machines like they were friends.

It was all going fine until they got to the last machine in the lab, a tall, clunky thing that reminded Puck of the steam engines that used to run trains. Or did they used to run planes? Puck had kind of fallen asleep in that history lesson. In every history lesson.

“Betty, this is Puck. Scan him, please.”

Scanning.

“Scan me, what?”

Scan incomplete.

Tony was already halfway back to his work table when the voice over the speakers spoke. “Sorry, what was that, Betty? Scan him.”

Scanning. Scan incomplete.

“Incomplete, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Tony answered, almost absently. “Jarvis, run scan on Betty.”

Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. Shall I scan Mr. Puckerman?

“Yes. Bring it up on the screens. Puck, stay there. Don’t move.” It wasn’t strictly necessary to keep him still, but Tony wasn’t going to take any chances.

Puck, for his part, was beginning to feel the sweat on the back of his neck. Was something wrong with him?

Scan unable to be completed, sir. There is interference.

“Interference? From what?”

Unknown, sir.

“Take off your coat. Everything out of your pockets.” Tony said, sharpness of his voice startling Puck to obedience.

“Run another scan, Jarvis.”

Scan incomplete, sir. Basic readings came back elevated within normal ranges.

“What’s elevated?” Puck asked, not sure if he was allowed to move yet.

“I’ll let you know,” Tony said absently, blowing up the readings on the holograph in front of him. He picked out two or three tables, examined them, then tossed them away.

Sir, it would appear that I am being tampered with.

“What?” Tony and Puck said at the same time. Tony glared at Puck, who fell silent. “By who?”

Mr. Puckerman. Jarvis’ voice was going staticky, and it was silenced before it even finished Puck’s name.

“I swear, I’m not doing anything!” The screens flickered and the lights went low for a minute; neither Tony or Puck moved until everything returned to normal.

Scan completed, sir. It would appear that the boy possesses some power over electric activity. It tried to shut me down, I’m sure as a defense mechanism.

“Interesting,” Tony said slowly, eyeing Puck with newfound curiosity.

“What does that mean?” Puck groused, picking his coat up off the ground and shrugging into it. He shoved the rest of his things in his pockets and stared at Tony expectantly. He hoped the machines couldn’t pick up on his heart beating erratically in his chest--this felt like a Moment, but he didn’t understand it.

“It means…” Tony waved the screens away with his hand. “That we’re going for a drive, kid. Take your pick of vehicle, but I’m driving.”

They didn’t talk about anything that had happened in the lab, for which Puck was grateful. They talked about Tony’s experiments and his projects; it seemed like Tony loved to talk about himself. Puck didn’t understand what was happening to him, and he didn’t think Tony did either, which wasn’t exactly comforting. He also came to understand that he shouldn’t tell any of the Glee kids--at least not yet.

They arrived a little before six. When they got back, Tony took him up to his room, which was all the way down the hall, past the other kids’ rooms and down anoter small hallway Puck hadn’t even noticed before. Since he was the only one paired with Iron Man, he didn’t have to share his room--although he noticed there was a second bedroom. Tony assured him it was the same layout in all the rooms, then gave him a small cellphone and earpiece, the former of which began to beep.

“Dinnertime,” Tony said, before Puck had even looked at the phone. “C’mon, you can set that up on the way. Let’s go see if your friends can cook.”

It turned out, they could. They ran into the others on the way, and Tony instantly broke away from him to join Dr. Banner, and Puck only overheard his name and Jarvis before he decided to stop listening. Those two guys were geniuses, and Puck guessed if he had to have anyone trying to figure him out, he could do worse than the two of them.

Dinner was a loud affair, made louder by Thor’s loud and unexpected appearance. He brought with him barrels of alcohol that the kids were strictly forbidden from even touching; the adult Avengers seemed to enjoy it plenty, though.

Thor clapped him on the shoulder and greeted all the Glee kids by name; Puck guessed he was okay looking, kind of like an overgrown, better-looking Sam, but all the girls--even Santana--were looking at him like their panties were already on the ground.

Benefits of being a god, Puck thought, then pushed the last of his brownie away. Probably wasn’t even kosher.

Since Kurt, Quinn and Natasha had cooked, that meant someone else had to clean. Somehow, Mike, Brittany and Dr. Banner ended up with that job, which Dr. Banner seemed fine with; he looked as cowed by Thor as Puck was trying not to feel.

The rest of the kids scuttled from the dining room to the living room, where Puck noticed the TV for the first time. It had the Stark Industries logo on the bottom right hand corner, which meant that not only was this one of Tony’s own inventions, but that it probably could do all sorts of awesome shit.

“Wonder what games they have,” Finn said, appearing next to him. The girls had taken up one side of the long couch, with Sam and Artie and Blaine taking up the other half. “How was your day with Tony Stark?”

Puck suddenly, very badly, wanted to tell Finn everything, because Finn always knew exactly what to say to make the world seem not so crazy out of whack. But he thought about the way Tony had looked at him, about how he’d felt, and he decided against it.

“Hey, here’s Mario Kart,” he said instead, pulling the game from one of the drawers. “Let’s go teach these kids a thing or two, yeah buddy?”

Finn smiled that dopey smile of his and nodded. “Yeah, buddy,”

(Santana was surprisingly good at Mario Kart, but Mercedes was the sort of person that Blue Shell’d the one in the lead. They learned that about ten seconds before they learned that Santana was incredibly competitive about Mario Kart, and that being in New York did not make Santana any less likely to try and go all ‘Lima Heights Adjacent’.)

When they had exhausted all levels of Mario Kart and Artie wanted to play Golden Eye on the N64 they’d found, Puck decided he needed some air. The Avengers had long since disappeared to wherever they went; they'd watched Hawkeye take the remaining vat of liquor with him.

Puck had seen Thor take Rachel and Mercedes out onto the balcony earlier and it seemed like a good time to investigate it for himself. He left the couch and opened the sliding glass door and went outside, shutting it behind him.

New York smelled different than Lima. It felt busier. His heart was beating to a rhythm he didn’t recognize, but knew it was the beat of the city. He’d always thought California was somewhere that he might end up--that New York was reserved for the Kurts and the Rachels of the world, not the Pucks.

Maybe he was wrong. As he leaned on the balcony railing, Puck couldn’t help but notice that New York, however far below him, was dirty. It was loud, it smelled, it was aggressive. All qualities he shared.

He allowed himself a private chuckle at that. He’d told the guy on the plane who wanted his signature that they were already special, had meant that he didn’t need S.H.I.E.L.D or anyone else to tell him what he already knew, and yet now that he had confirmation that he was special, special in the way they meant, he didn’t know how he felt about it.

“Hey,” a soft voice said. Puck started in surprise and looked over at Quinn, who had at some point joined him on the balcony. “What’re you thinking about?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she set her hand gently on his arm. “C’mon. You can tell me, you know that.”

Puck sighed and turned to face her. “I don’t know if I want to be here.”

“We haven’t even been here a whole day yet,” Quinn said, pulling her cardigan more around her, protection against the cool New York air. He noticed and offered her his jacket, which she accepted after a moment of hesitation. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Puck said, looking back out over the city. “I mean, I can’t exactly leave, even if I wanted to. But… what if this is something way bigger than what we think it is?”

Quinn shrugged, tiny shoulders dwarfed by his leather jacket. “Is that a bad thing?”

Puck sighed. “No. Yes. Maybe. This could change our whole lives. I like my life.”

“I like mine, too, Puck, but what--I mean, come on. We’re high schoolers from Ohio. They’re probably wrong about us, anyway, and they’ll send us home by next week with an apology and some S.H.I.E.L.D swag.”

“No,” Puck said carefully, looking at her fully for the first time. “They won’t. They’re right about us, Quinn.”

Quinn stared at him, then took a step closer to him and said, in a much quieter but more urgent voice, “What do you mean, Puck? Did Tony Stark tell you something? Did you find something out?”

Puck hesitated, but the green of her eyes and the temptation of her warm body was too much. “Yeah. I--he--we figured it out. Figured me out. Sort of. Not totally. But, um...remember that ATM I stole, and how they couldn’t figure out how I got around the wired-in protections?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said, eyebrows slightly knitted together--but not enough to cause wrinkles, he knew.

“Turns out, I have some…” Puck struggled for the words. “Abilities. With electric stuff. Got in a fight with Tony’s machine on the speakers. Jaeger, Jeeves, whatever.”

“Jarvis,” Quinn supplied, nothing more than a breath.

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to, though, and I didn’t control it. But...that’s why I think they’re on to something with us, Quinn. If I have something, of course the rest of us do, too. This is really happening, Quinn, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Yeah,” Quinn answered faintly. “I know the feeling.” She looked at him for another long minute, then sighed and brought a smile to her face. “Let’s just enjoy the view for a while, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Okay.” They both turned out to the city, and after a moment of hesitation, Puck wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her a little closer to him. She didn’t resist; in fact, she let her head rest against his chest, and that somehow made Puck feel a whole lot better about the whole thing.

They stayed out there, not saying anything, until there was a quiet knock on the door behind them and Blaine cleared his throat.

“Hey, guys. Sorry to interrupt, but, uh, Black Widow said that Quinn needs to hit the hay. We should probably all think about bed, honestly,” Blaine added, casting a doubtful, squinty eye down at his watch.

“Right, yeah,” Puck said, releasing Quinn quickly. She nodded and smiled placatingly at Blaine, who got the memo and disappeared back inside. Puck watched him find Kurt and take his hand, but then Quinn was handing him his jacket back.

“We’ll figure it all out,” she promised, smiling up at him in that way that he knew, knew, was reserved for him.

Kurt was just about to break. He was about to break the silence when the elevator dinged and Black Widow began to walk again. She wasn’t dressed in the outfit he had seen her in before, all over TV--the all-black leather jumpsuit--but rather casual clothes. Jeans, a loose-fitting band t-shirt that he almost recognized from one of the posters in Finn’s room.

He hadn’t ever thought about what heroes did when they weren’t fighting villains. He filed that question away for later; after all, if he was really to become a hero, he would need to know the full extent of the lifestyle.

Black Widow led them partway down another hallway, which was relatively unadorned, save for a couple pieces of expensive-looking art hung between the doors. There were three on either side, with a large double-door at the end of the hall. Kurt wondered if that’s where they were going, maybe to meet up with the rest  of the group, but Black Widow stopped at the first door on the left and unlocked it with a small key from her pocket. The door itself was dark brown, with a deeper brown frame, but the room inside was pleasantly bright. The walls were a periwinkle blue, similar to Elie Saab’s couture dresses from the past season, but Kurt was sure that that particular observation would not be appreciated by the other two--at least not yet.

The room itself appeared to be a small sitting room, with a white loveseat against the wall to the right. There were two deep blue wingback chairs facing each other on either wall. On the far wall were two white armchairs and a tall lamp, sitting on top of a two-level bookshelf, casting a cozy light across the floor.

“So,” Black widow said, pulling one of the tall wingback chairs in front of the loveseat. She gestured for the two of them to sit, and they hurried to obey. “You two are my...team.”

“And you’re our...team leader? Mentor? What do we call you?” Quinn asked, voice not betraying the anxiety Kurt could hear loud and clear. He was sure that Black Widow could sense it as well, if she was half the super-spy the news reports claimed her to be.  He thought it was a valiant effort on Quinn’s part anyhow.

“You can call me Natasha, when we’re not training. When we are, you should call me Black Widow,” Natasha answered, staring thoughtfully at Quinn for a moment before she continued. “Do either of you know why you, specifically, were placed with me?”

Kurt shook his head, although he had an idea. Quinn shrugged.

“We were both cheerleaders, so we know how to move. We’re both the top bitch at school.” She glanced at Kurt and offered a faint smile, the kind that made Kurt’s stomach warm. He was gay-diddy-gay-gay, but Quinn was so pretty when she wasn’t terrifying. He smiled back.

(To hear Rachel tell it, she was more beautiful when she was scary.)

“We’re both powerful,” Quinn finished, looking back at Natasha evenly. “You can teach us how to use our power,”

“For more important things than Prom Queen,” Kurt put in. He didn't want Black Widow to think that Quinn was the only one who knew things. He ignored Quinn’s narrowed eyes; he knew how important Prom Queen was to her, but she also knew that Prom Queen had been a terrifying experience for him. Maybe that was what kept her from snapping back at him.

Natasha nodded. “You’re both right. This room belongs to the two of you, as do those rooms.” Natasha bobbed her head to the two dark doors to their right. “Your bedrooms. The rest of your friends are in the other rooms, talking to their mentors.” Natasha fell silent for a minute, then continued. “Pepper Potts, Tony Stark and Nick Fury think the two of you will, someday, be ready to take over my place in the Avengers. It is my job to help you reach that level, or determine that you will never be able to reach that level. If you don’t pass training, do not think it’s because you didn’t try hard enough or weren’t good enough.” Her eyes held Kurt’s for a moment, then Quinn’s. “If being a super-hero were easy, everyone would do it. What do you think your job here is?”

“To learn,” Kurt answered, pressure squeezing its way down his lungs and into his stomach; it was a lot to take in, although he appreciated Natasha’s unceremonious delivery.

“To do what you tell us,” Quinn said. Something unreadable passed over Natasha’s face, gone before Kurt could even begin to name it.

“Why do you want to be here?” Natasha asked. Kurt thought it was an odd question, considering that nobody had exactly asked them to come. It wasn't like they had applied. This conversation was walking the line between interview and interrogation. It felt like a test he hadn’t studied for, and it made him uncomfortable.

“To see if we really are special,” Quinn answered, her voice softer than it had been a moment before.

“To help our friends,” Kurt added after an additional moment of thought. Even if he wasn’t ‘special’ in the way they thought he was, he would want to help Quinn and Rachel and Finn succeed in any way he could.

Natasha nodded slowly. “Good enough for tonight. Wake-up’s at 7 AM, be ready in this room by 7:30.” She stood up and let herself look at them for another minute; Kurt felt like she was seeing the tiniest parts of him, but he did not shrink from her gaze. “Sleep well.”

Silent as a shadow, she slipped out of the room and shut the door with a click behind her. Kurt let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, then looked at Quinn.

“She seems...nice.”

Quinn looked at him like he’d never said anything more stupid. In her defense, he probably hadn’t. “Kurt, she’s terrifying. She could have killed us in an instant,”

Kurt stood in one fluid motion, clasping his hands together. “But she didn’t. And how many people can say they survived a one-on-one with Black Widow? Not many. I mean, I know it’s not like we were fighting her or anything but--oh, Quinn, come look at this room!”

The door thunked quietly behind him. It was perfect, and totally him. This had to be his room. The walls were grey and black striped wallpaper, and the double bed was a dark wood with silver-purple sheets with matching pillows. It was bigger than his bed at home, and Kurt liked a lot of pillows.

Quinn wasn’t by his side; he’d gotten distracted by the art on the walls (just pretentious enough for him to appreciate) and she must have gone to her room. He put down the clunky metal paperweight back on his nightstand and left his room to find hers.

It was beautiful, and Kurt could tell from her raised eyebrows and slightly ajar mouth that she thought so too. The walls were light yellow with pink flowers along the trim. Her bed was the same size as his, but in a light wood and maroon sheets. There was a picture of Beth on her nightstand, which Kurt hadn’t noticed until Quinn made a bee-line for it.

“This is insane,” Quinn breathed, brushing her fingers over the image of her daughter like it was something sacred. To her, it probably was.

“It is,” Kurt agreed, setting himself down ungracefully at her desk chair. “We should enjoy it while we can.” Quinn didn’t seem to be hearing him. She was looking from Beth to the room itself--the rollaway desk, the tall bookshelves, with big bright window with the curtains pulled daintily to the side. Quinn wasn’t the sort of girl to let people see her sweat, so Kurt quietly made his exit and closed the door behind him.

He wanted to leave their room, explore, see what Blaine’s room and common area looked like. He wanted to check in with Rachel, make sure she hadn’t gone full-diva. But he didn’t know if they were done with their mentors yet, and he figured there would be some signal or bell or something when it was time to gather for another group meeting. He could wait that long.

Kurt was halfway to his room when he noticed the sidetable near the loveseat had two piles of books on it. Each had a post-it on top, with his and Quinn’s name written neatly, in all caps. Beneath their names was the word ‘homework’, signed with the letter N.

“Hey, Quinn,” Kurt called, picking up his stack. The Art of War, Ender’s Game, National Geographic’s Big Hunters issue, and Self-Defense for Dummies. “Looks like we have our first assignment,” he said when Quinn joined him. She picked up her stack; he couldn’t make out the titles, but they were definitely different than his.

He hadn’t even seen Black Widow, hadn’t heard the door click shut or swing open. She was good: Kurt suspected that that, too, was part of what they were supposed to learn. He gave Quinn a comforting pat on the shoulder before he moved into his room, flopped on the bed and opened the National Geographic.

An hour and a half later, Kurt was more puzzled than excited: how was he supposed to do his ‘homework’ when he had no idea what the assignment was? Simple reading seemed unlikely--besides, he couldn’t possibly read a novel and absorb Sun Tzu’s immense wisdom over night, and master self-defense. At least, not without a training dummy and some real-life guidance; wasn’t that Black Widow’s job?

He finished the Big Hunters issue, which focused largely on lions, leopards and other cats. He'd taken notes as best he could in a black notebook he found in his desk. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to gain from it, but he felt better to be able to check something off his mental list.

He also made it through the first chapter of the Dummies book, which meant he learned how to hold his body, and the right way to throw a punch. It seemed basic, completely rudimentary, but he grudgingly admitted to himself that if he was going to be a gay man in New York, nevermind a super-hero, learning the basics was mandatory.

Ender’s Game seemed interesting, and he definitely related to Ender, but he didn’t understand the point of that assignment nearly as well as he did the other books. Art of War felt like the most important, but it was written so densely that Kurt was paying more attention to the rumbling of his stomach and his cellphone games than he was to Sun Tzu.  He felt guilty about that, but not guilty enough to give it his full attention.

His desk began to beep, startling him out of his day-dreamy distraction. He was briefly, illogically, worried that it was a bomb, but it seemed too steady for something like that--and anyway, this was Avengers Tower. If there was a bomb here of all places, it was already too late.

So he got up and moved to his desk, opening the drawers until he found a cellphone and an earpiece. The phone was beeping, but Kurt felt the two might be related, so he lifted them both out of the drawer and affixed the small piece of plastic to his right ear. Then he focused on the phone, which was thin and smart.

It was blank except for words written in white capital letters: PRESS THUMB HERE. Kurt hesitated, but pressed his right thumb onto the screen, which briefly glowed blue as it scanned the print.

WELCOME TO S.H.I.E.L.D., KURT E. HUMMEL, the phone read. Kurt blinked in surprise but pressed the screen again, encouraging it to move to the next message. It told him that he would be receiving a lanyard and an ID, and that this phone would be for classified communication only.

The screen went blank tehn, but it was only a moment before three white dots appeared on the screen. Then REPORT TO KITCHEN flashed repeatedly. He stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending, before he snapped out of it and shoved the phone in his pocket, along with his personal cellphone. He opened the door and found Quinn standing in front of it, her hand ready to knock.

“Did you--”

“Yeah. I think it’s time for dinner,” Quinn said, and Kurt couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Either way, he followed her out of their anteroom and into the hall, where the door clicked shut behind them. Kurt looked at it doubtfully.

“Do you have a key?”

“No.” Quinn shook her head and began walking down the hallway, ignoring the five other identical doors as they went. Kurt wondered if their fellow Glee Clubbers were in there, studying or talking or napping. Maybe they were already in the kitchen, or still with their mentors. Specifically, he wondered where Blaine was, and if Blaine was handling all this alright; Kurt was the one who didn’t like change, he knew, but Blaine didn’t like things being different, and this was very different.

Kurt slid open the double-pocket doors to reveal Black Widow, who was waiting for them in the large common room at the end of the hall. It had tall ceilings and a slate-gray carpet, made cozy by the pops of tan and red Kurt noticed in the couches and and pillows. Against the far wall was a large entertainment center, with a TV so big that even Puck wouldn’t be able to find fault with it. Through an open archway to his left, Kurt glanced a refrigerator. The kitchen, then, where they had been ordered to go. There was a door near the entertainment center, but Kurt didn’t have any idea what might be behind it--not yet, anyway. He wondered how he might get in contact with the Avengers’ interior decorator.

“How is your homework going?” Natasha asked, leading them into the kitchen. It was spacious and entirely metallic; too serious for Kurt’s taste, and too big. To different from home, where he’d been working with a stove that was older than he was.

“I don’t know if I understand it,” Kurt began. “What are we supposed to be reading for?”

“Everything,” Natasha answered, which made Kurt’s stomach sink. He bit back a sarcastic response and looked at Quinn for help, who just shrugged.

“What are we doing?” Quinn asked instead, looking around the kitchen.

“You,” Natasha began, then corrected herself, “And I, are going to make dinner for our team. We have a rotating cycle for the Avengers, and tonight just so happens to be my night. Which means, tonight is also your night, until we’re sure none of you will burn the place down and can be trusted alone.”

Kurt felt himself grinning. Some things were like home. Him and Carole would switch off, and every so often Burt and Finn would team up and try to cook a meal. These nights rapidly became known as Pizza Night.

More than that, it reminded Kurt of family dinners, which gave him a pleasant feeling in his chest.

“I know how to cook,” Kurt said, hoping to explain his sudden excitement. “I love to cook.” Really, he just loved food. He glanced at Quinn, but she seemed less excited: he wondered if she had ever cooked for herself in her life.

Natasha looked between them for a long moment, then pulled her long red hair into a ponytail. “We’ll start simple.”

They flipped through the two big recipe books on the counter, with Natasha grabbing cooking sheets and pans behind them. They eventually decided on parmesan chicken and salad, with Kurt steering the ship on double-chocolate brownies. Personally, Kurt thought the meal was a little too pedestrian for their first night in Avengers Tower, but he realized that comfort food might be better than anything too fancy.

Still, he felt better when Natasha suggested that he add a little mint to the brownies.

When they were about halfway done, Rachel and Mercedes showed up, followed by Happy, whose eyes had that glazed over appearance that let Kurt know Rachel probably had not stopped talking since they left the meeting room downstairs.

“What are you doing here?” Quinn asked, pausing her coating of the chicken.

“We’re going to make vegetarian versions of whatever you’re making,” Rachel said matter-of-factly. “Happy said we all take turns making meals, but that if we have special accomodations, we have to make them ourselves. Which, to me, seems a bit ungracious of our hosts, but--”

“And since I’m paired with Rachel, I get to help,” Mercedes interrupted, deadpanned. But then she smiled at Kurt and Kurt couldn’t help but grin back. This was insane, like Quinn had said, but he was glad to be here with his best friends.

“There’s vegetarian chicken in the freezer.” Natasha said, then went back to chopping carrots for the salad at blinding speed. “And a can of breadcrumbs in the pantry,” she added.

The kitchen was plenty big enough for them to work separately, but when Rachel began to sing under her breath, it wasn’t long before Kurt and Mercedes were joining in and filling the kitchen with the sound. None of them noticed Natasha looking at them like they were the crazy ones.

Rachel was not a cook. Mercedes ended up doing the actual baking of the chicken, on a tray seperate from the rest of the chicken. It was all ready at roughly the same time, and Natasha was wiping her hands off on a towel and taking a cellphone identical to the one Kurt had found out of her back pocket.

She typed a few keys and slid it away, and then sure enough, Kurt’s phone beeped in his pocket.

REPORT TO DINING ROOM FOR DINNER, it said. Kurt felt himself smiling; which only grew when he heard doors opening and closing down the hall. He carried the serving dishes and set the glasses on the already-made table and was standing with Natasha and Quinn when the Glee Club stampeded in--they were talking, loudly, all of them, and Kurt was suddenly reminded that in spite of everything, these kids were his family.

The Avengers followed in shortly after; Tony talking excitedly to Dr. Banner, Clint and Phil chatting about what Kurt thought was old cars. Clint cought Natasha’s eye and quickly cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Natasha, Kurt, Quinn,” he said pointedly, over the chatter of the table. The Glee kids stilled and looked at them, unsure of what to do.