#magic series

Your bedroom door cracked open and your dad popped his head in. You frowned at him before pulling the book closer to your face. You knew you were being ridiculous. It was good that he cared about you. That was a good thing.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said. 

“I’m sorry, too. I know you’re just trying to help.”

“I am,” he said. He smiled. 

“So you can help,” you said, “but just-” 

“Good,” he interrupted. “Then how about you come hang out with me and the team.”

“The Avengers are here?” you asked, sitting up on your bed, book slipping off your lap. “Here?”

“Some of them,” he said.

You followed him out of your room and into the center of the sanctum. Everyone, from Scarlet Witch to Spider-Man stood before you. You stopped, feeling awkward and nervous. What do you even say to Avengers? You could barely talk to the pizza man when he dropped off your order.

“I want to bring you to the team,” he said. “I was discussing it with them, and they think it’s a good idea.”

“Bring me to the team?” you asked. 

“Letting you be an Avenger,” he clarified.

“Yeah?” you asked. You tried not to smile, but you did.

“Welcome to the Avengers,” he said, backing up. He gestured to his team: broken, since the death of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, but still alive.

“Just like that? It’s that easy?” you asked.

“Pretty much,” Scott Lang replied. “I got, uh, picked up and fought Iron Man and then a big purple alien and now I’m on the team. I guess that sounds easier than it was.”

“Yes - okay. Well. You will be training with Peter.”

“Spider-Man? Why? Wouldn’t it make more sense to train with you or Wong?”

“No,” he said. “No, it makes sense to train with Peter, because… it’s Peter and I… don’t have the time to train you.”

“I can train myself,” you pointed out, “and also, I’ve seen your schedule. You’re not busy.”

“You’re training with Peter,” he said finally, putting his hands up. “Okay?” He walked off, offering tea. Everyone followed.

Peter walked up to you. “I-I’m Peter, by the way. I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

“Hi, I’m ___,” you said. “I don’t want you to think I didn’t want you to train me…”

“Oh no, it’s cool. I don’t understand why I’m even training you.” He laughed nervously.

“I think I know,” you said, nodding slowly. “My dad wants me to have friends my age. That’s it.”

“Oh.” He crossed his arms. “And he picked me, because I’m failing twelfth grade.”

“Oh… ‘kay? And he thinks that makes you a good role model because…?” you pressed.

He laughed lightly, and the sound made Stephen look over - relieved. Wanda even smiled, cradling her cup of tea in her palms. Everyone had it rough since the end of the fight against Thanos, but the sound of Peter’s laugh brought it all back to a sense of normality.

“No, I, uh… I used to be a good student. Honestly, I did. So I’m a good role model.” He laughed again. “Just not now.”

“Now is really what counts, Peter,” you said.

“Yeah,” he said. His smile faded and he looked at the floor. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he kicked his shoe against the floor, then met your eyes shyly. “But, uh, when Tony died… I don’t know. I just lost all hope, I guess.”

“You lost all hope?” you asked, frowning.

“He died for me. I didn’t want him to, but he wanted to get me out of that place.” He dropped his head again and looked at his fingers, which shook as he remembered Tony falling on the ground, body jerking as he bled out faster than Peter could get to him. “He was really like my dad,” he whispered.

You blinked. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I… when my dad disappeared, I lost it. Wong said he would come back but I didn’t believe him, because so many people had disappeared before my very eyes. And if he wasn’t home yet… then he wouldn’t be ever, because he would try to get to me as soon as possible.” You swallowed and lowered your voice to a whisper. “I thought I wasn’t going to make it. I know how you feel, Peter-” But then you stopped, because your dad came back. Tony didn’t.

“I’m okay,” he whispered.

You shook your head, raising your eyebrows. “You’re not.”

He stared at you, grinding his teeth a little.

“I’m not either,” you whispered, shrugging. “It’s okay, Peter.”

And suddenly, he didn’t feel so alone. And Stephen bringing him here made sense.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Things will get better.”

You smiled. “Right.