Plotted Starter for @ourgameends
Ever since Mr. Stark had come by Aunt May’s and revealed that he knew Peter’s secret identity--ever since he’d upgraded the Spiderman suit by about 3,000 cool points, that is--Peter had been coming by Avenger’s Tower more and more. Well, he was swinging by Avenger’s Tower. If he had thought the the lobby was cool (and it was definitely the most high tech lobby he’d ever seen, the secretary, a guy named JARVIS, was just a voice over a holographic security system!) it was nothing to the R&D labs Mr. Stark had shown him, and even cooler than that (which he hadn’t thought was possible until he saw it with his own eyes--or at least with the cool computer, zoom-in spider eyes of the super mask) was the floors where the actual Avengers lived.
Peter didn’t technically have a meeting with Mr. Stark that day, and technically, as he wasn’t an Avenger, he wasn’t supposed to come by the tower unannounced, because technically, no one else knew his identity, and he really wanted to keep it that way. For Aunt May’s sake. And Ned’s. And M.J.’s. And because he wasn’t sure he wanted Thor calling him while he was in Calculus class. Though now that he thought about it, that would be really, really cool.
No, Peter didn’t have an appointment, but he did have a rather large gash in his thigh from a fight on 12th avenue that was making it really hard to web his way home. Avenger’s Tower was closer, and JARVIS had let him in through one of the upper story windows, so he limped toward the kitchen, hoping to find some ice and then ask the nice robot voice man where the first aid kit was, when he literally bumped into someone and staggered backwards. He glanced up, already apologizing, his mask still covering his eyes but pulled up over his mouth, dripping blood onto carpet that probably cost more than his and Aunt May’s rent. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I--woah. You’re Black Widow.”
