Peter's seen the outside of Avengers Compound before. He's seen how impressive it looks from the yard. But nothing could have prepared him for what it looks like inside. And the crazy part is that he doesn't even know what it is that actually impresses him. It just feels so... expensive. Everything about it screams 'I was built by a billionaire.'

"I'll take you to your room first," Bruce tells him, "so you can put your stuff down."

Peter jumps at the chance. He wants to know where he'll be sleeping. He wants to know if it's going to look as cool as the rest of the compound does.

... It does not.

It's actually a pretty boring room.

But it's a huge pretty boring room that he gets to sleep in while he's staying at Avengers Compound, so he has absolutely zero complaints.

Peter drops his bag on his bed, and he puts his hands on his hips, looking around with a grin. This is really, really nice. Not very homely, but still really, really nice. Is this his room now? A part of him wants to ask; wants to know if this is his room for if/when he comes back to the compound, or if it's just a guest room he's staying in for the night. A part of him doesn't want to ask because he'd really like to delude himself into thinking that this is his room and there is an expectation that he'll be coming back frequently enough to have his own room and that this isn't a one-time deal.

"Are you hungry?" Bruce asks. "We'll probably order pizza later tonight, but if you're hungry now..."

Peter shrugs. "I guess I could eat." Not because he's hungry, but because he wants to see what kind of food the Avengers eat. It's probably super healthy stuff, like fruits and vegetables and chicken and protein bars and... other... healthy... things...

"I was hoping you'd say that," Bruce says, "because I'm starving."

So they head to the kitchen, and, as though only there to prove his point, Steve Rogers is sitting at the kitchen table and eating out of a carton of strawberries. This is the type of content they should show in elementary schools. How many more kids would eat their fruit if they knew the world's biggest and best heroes did?

"Hey, kid," Steve greets him, raising a hand (and the half-eaten strawberry in it) in a wave. "How're you liking the compound so far?"

"It's nice," Peter answers. "It's really nice." Is that a good answer? He doesn't want to sound too enthusiastic. Just because it's the most luxurious building he's ever had the honor of stepping into doesn't mean the Captain America wants to hear him gush about it.

"I haven't shown him much of it yet," Bruce tells the captain. "We're going to have something to eat, and then maybe check out the lab, or the common room if that's where everyone else is."

Peter grins. He cannot wait to officially meet everyone. Everything was kind of a mess last time, what with the whole 'on the run from the United Nations trying to stop a terrorist who framed their friend' thing going on. It's going to be so nice to just start over. (He hopes that's what's going to happen? He's assuming they're not holding the whole "different sides of the Avengers' mini civil war" thing against him?)

"I don't know about the rest of 'em," Steve says, "but last I checked, Nat, Clint, and Yelena were playing Mario Bros in there."

"Good to know," Bruce says.

"You weren't kidding when you said there's a lot of video games, huh?" Peter remarks.

Bruce chuckles. "You have no idea."

Upon further reflection – by which he means Bruce showing him around the kitchen and offering him various things to eat – Peter comes to the conclusion that the Avengers do not, in fact, live off of healthy foods, in spite of what Steve's strawberries may say.

He and Bruce opt for a quick grilled cheese sandwich, and while Steve passes on having his own, he does stick around long after he finishes eating his strawberries. They chat a bit as they eat – mostly consisting of questions about school and his extracurriculars; boring things adults always ask about – but it's nice. It feels like they really care. And maybe they don't and maybe they're just making small talk, and honestly, Peter wouldn't fault them for that one bit, but he chooses to think his gut feeling is right and they really do want to get to know him.

And then Tony Stark appears.

To say he almost doesn't recognize him would be a stretch. Everybody would recognize Tony Stark. He's fucking Tony Stark. But between the sunglasses he wears and his groggy demeanor that lack what he's come to consider the man's characteristic confidence, this isn't quite what Peter expected from him.

Although, now that he thinks of it, the guy was pretty quiet last time they met, too. Maybe this is Tony Stark? Maybe the cocky, borderline-assholeishness that Peter (affectionately) equates him with is just an act he puts on for the public. That's kind of disappointing, actually.

And then, to make matters worse, the first words out of his mouth are, "Alright, what's the kid from Germany doing here and when is he leaving?"

Peter can feel the color drain from his face. Maybe this won't be the fresh start he'd hoped it would be.

Bruce scoffs. "Tony!"

Tony cracks a smile, and it's like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. "Nah, I'm just messing with you."

Peter smiles, too, albeit with a bit more uncertainty. So he's okay? This is okay? Everything's okay?

Steve is still unamused – bordering on 'disappointed dad,' really. "Again, Tony?"

"Trust me," Tony deadpans, "if you had the night I had, you would've done the same thing."

Peter furrows his brows, looking between the two of them uncertainly. He feels like he's missing something here.

"But I'm not here to talk about my self-destructive pastimes," Tony says. He takes his hands out from behind his back – Peter hadn't even realized that's where they were – and in them is a decent-sized cardboard box – and, to Peter's surprise, it's a decent-sized cardboard box that he hands to him. "Got a couple somethings for ya."

Peter's brows shoot up. "You didn't have to do that." He wasn't expecting anything. Just being here at all is a gift in and of itself.

"'Course I did," Tony says. "I inadvertently dragged you into this mess; now it's my job to make sure this mess doesn't get you killed."

Peter is fairly certain that Tony had nothing to do with him getting dragged into this – it was Bruce who pulled him in, actually – but he doesn't question it.

Peter opens up the box...

And his jaw drops.

Literally.

He wasn't aware that was actually how a person reacts to complete shock until now.

There's a smartphone on top, but he pays that no mind, pushing it aside to get to the real gift: a new Spider-Man suit. He pulls it out of the box and holds it up by the shoulders, letting it unravel before his eyes.

"Holy shit," Peter whispers. It looks so... professional. It keeps the same color scheme as his cheesy homemade DIY costume, but everything else about it is just...

Holy shit.

He doesn't even know how else to describe it.

"Figured you could use an upgrade," Tony remarks.

Peter looks over at him incredulously. "This is for me?"

Tony huffs, amused. "Unless you plan to give it to another spider-person."

In hindsight, he has to admit, that was a stupid question.

"It's got an AI in it like the one in my suits," Tony tells him. "She can walk you through all the new features. I think I covered just about everything you could feasibly need."

Peter gapes at him. "This is amazing," he says. "Thank you so much, oh my god!"

"I am pretty godly, aren't I?" Tony remarks.

Bruce and Steve both roll their eyes at that, and Peter fights back a laugh.

"You got two more things in there," Tony tells him. "Phone first, envelope last."

Peter hastily folds the suit back up and drapes it over his lap, and then he pulls out the cell phone. It seems like a nice phone. He's sure it's better than the piece of crap he's been using for the last couple of years. He clicks it on to reveal, perhaps unsurprisingly, a picture of Iron Man.

Peter looks up at Tony, amused. He really put a picture of himself as the lock screen, huh? It would be one thing if it was his own phone, but on Peter's? Really?

"Check out the contacts," Tony says.

Peter swipes the lock screen away – is it still called a lock screen if there's no password locking the phone? – to reveal a photo of Spider-Man swinging through the streets as the background. He grins at that. There are some really good pictures of himself out there. He can't wait to see what kinds of pictures people get of him with his new suit.

As instructed, he opens up his contact list, and he's baffled by just how many contacts he already has in there. He scrolls through them, taking them in one at a time. Avengers Compound, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, James Rhodes, Maria Hill, May Parker (how did he get her number?), Natasha Romanoff, Pietro Maximoff, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson (holy shit), Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff. He almost can't believe his eyes. He literally has every single Avengers' phone number, already added to this phone given to him by the Avengers themselves.

"You don't have to use it if you don't want to," Tony says. "You can throw all our numbers in the phone you use now; that's up to you. I didn't put Antonia's or Yelena's numbers in there because I don't know what's going on with them, and I didn't put Loki's number in there because... Well, because he's Loki. Nobody ever wants to talk to Loki."

Steve rolls his eyes once more. "Tony..."

Tony puts his hands up in a mock surrender. "Sorry, sorry. Forgot this was the Loki fan club." He rolls his eyes, too, much more dramatically, but the small smirk on his face says he's just joking.

Steve reaches across the table and taps Peter's arm to get his attention. "Don't let him fool you; Loki's a good guy."

Peter forces a smile and nods once, like he could possibly believe that Loki of all people is a good person.

"Sure he is," Tony says sarcastically. He fake-coughs into his hand. "He sucks."

"You're not helping," Bruce tells him.

"Of course I'm not," Tony replies. "When do I ever help?" He flashes him a smile, then says to Peter, "Okay, now you can open the envelope."

Peter puts the phone back in the box and pulls out the envelope resting on the bottom. He'd expected some sort of card – isn't that usually what envelopes in gifts are for? – but he doesn't feel any through the envelope, which is a bit... odd... He tears open the top of the envelope, and when he opens it up, all he finds is a small, thin piece of paper. Confused, he pulls it out...

And his jaw drops.

Again.

Because there is no fucking way...

Peter whips his head up to look at him. "I can't take this," he says immediately. This is too much. The new suit and the phone were already pushing it, but at least those are supposed to help him with the whole superhero gig. They were thematically appropriate for the occasion. But this...

"'Course you can," Tony says. "Consider it a 'thank you for not getting yourself killed on our watch' gift."

Peter shakes his head. "I really can't–"

"You can, and you will," Tony interrupts. "Trust me, it'll do a lot more good in your bank account than it would in mine."

"How much did he give you?" Bruce asks, peering over to try to catch a glimpse.

Peter turns the check to face him. He can't even say it out loud.

"Oh, wow, only ten grand?" Bruce remarks. "He's really skimping out on you."

Peter gapes at him. Skimping out? This is more money than he's ever seen in his entire life, and Bruce thinks this is skimping out?

Tony rolls his eyes. "He's, like, eight."

"Actually, I'm fourteen," Peter says.

Tony gestures to him as though that was some sort of agreement. "See? He's basically eight. What's an eight-year-old gonna need more than ten grand for?"

Peter furrows his brows, the corners of his lips turned downward in a slight frown. He's still not eight. He's not even close to being eight. He hasn't been eight in a long time.

Bruce shakes his head to himself. "Alright, fine."

"Great." Tony claps his hands together once. "Now that that's taken care of, I'm going back to bed. Wish me luck sleeping off this hangover before Pepper gets here."

"You know," Steve says, "you could avoid these hangovers altogether if you'd stop binge-drinking at two in the morning."

Tony makes a show of rolling his eyes. "Ask your boyfriend about my night and you'll understand." And with that, he walks out, disappearing as quickly as he appeared.

Bruce looks over at the captain curiously. "Do you have any idea what he's talking about?"

Steve shakes his head. "Loki must've pissed him off. I don't know. I'll talk to him when I see him."

Peter looks between them with a frown. He was already having a hard time believing that Loki is a good person even when he had the Avengers' vote of confidence. The fact that he apparently leads Tony Stark to binge-drink in the dead of night is definitely not helping his case.

As though reading Peter's mind – which he's decently sure is not one of his superpowers – Bruce says to him, "Tony and Loki bicker a lot. It's nothing; it's just what happens when you put two antagonistic people in a building together for four years."

Honestly, Peter's not sure that the 'antagonistic' label is instilling any confidence.

"You'll get used to him pretty quickly," Steve assures him. "He's really not that bad. He's definitely mellowed out a lot since he came here."

Peter forces a smile and nods. He'll pretend to believe it as long as he has to. And as for actually talking to the guy? Well, he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.