Y/N 🍪

_

I'M OVER THE MOON.

The moment in the kitchen keeps replaying over, and over, and over in my head, and my heart won't stop pounding. It's almost too good to be true. My self-deprecating nature keeps pointing out how easy it all seems, but I'm trying my best not to believe it.

I won't believe it. Something good happened to me, and I should be happy.

I'm extremely happy!

It just...feels like something's missing. God, please don't start this again. If I could beat up my brain, I'd do it gladly. But for someone who has a soulmate, Peter seemed a little too quick to say yes.

God, just forget it, [y/n]. He said yes, that's all that matters. He hardly ever speaks about his soulmate, and he's never said her name. Maybe she doesn't exist (yes, that's a stretch, but any method of rationalization would help right now).

Bzz!

I fished my phone out of my pocket, flipping it over to read the message. It was from Peter. I'll be there in 30, he said, someone was screwing around on the tracks again, so the train's delayed.

Here's the plan: we grab a slice of pizza, take the train down to New York City, and fool around and act like tourists. As far as first dates go, this one seemed pretty solid. I'd already told Luka to tell our foster-mom I'd be home late, and from the looks of it, Peter already told May.

I was still at Stark Tower. The problem with YANA was just solved, and a good scientist knows to do multiple tests before assuming one set of data is correct. Peter went back to his apartment to 'get ready', as he so confidently said, and would meet me back here at 6.

But after five test-batches, there was no doubt YANA worked.

I needed to give Peter another hug when I saw him. I never would have thought of using Methanol, Salicylic Acid, or Toluene to make cookies. Who knew the kid was a secret genius?

"Hey, Mr. Stark?" I called out. "Ah, sorry—Tony?"

I'd dumped the fresh cookie batches into a plastic container, and I was hoping to show them to the billionaire as proof his sponsorship was worth it. I also was hoping to update him on Peter. It was his idea I asked for help, after all.

"Hello?"

The tower was surprisingly quiet, and it made me feel slightly unsettled. From where I stood, I could see Tony's office was empty, and so were the rooms next to it.

Maybe he was in his lab.

Now, technically, while I had access to the kitchen, Tony's personal lab was never discussed. Half of me didn't feel like going up there was a good idea. The other half of me rationalized. It wasn't as if I was going to use it, I was only just looking for him.

I put my restless thoughts at bay as I made my way to the elevator, pressing the button for floor 79. The doors closed, and I was surrounded by a muffled hum. The plastic container dug into my chest. Apparently, you become more aware of your senses when you feel like you're breaking the rules.

But I'm not breaking the rules. I'm just looking for Tony.

Once the doors opened, I stepped out of the elevator and found myself in a long, glass hallway. To the right were conference and meeting rooms, and to the left was a staircase. I decided to go left.

Tony's workshop was located at the very bottom of the steps, most of his tools sitting untouched and lifeless in the darkness. When I stepped in, the lights flickered on.

"Welcome in, Miss Agreste."

I jumped at the sound of Friday's voice. "Thanks."

Alright, the next part's my fault. After being reminded of Friday's existence, I realized I could have just asked the AI to tell me where Tony was. It would save a lot of time, and it was the most logical choice.

But now that I was in his lab, I was overwhelmed by curiosity.

This is where the billionaire used his brain. I was standing in the presence of technological revolution! I might not have a chance to see all this stuff up close again, and I would be a fool to waste this chance.

Setting the container on a table, I began to circle the large expanse. Some of his robot creations were moving about, but they paid no attention to me. He had some expensive equipment just thrown about, and I died internally. He had a half-rusted Pneumatic sealless combination tool on the floor—which, by the way, was worth almost $3,000!

When I got to the back of the workshop, I noticed Tony had put together a personalized corkboard. Some blueprints for the tower were pinned up at the top, while photos of him and his friends were at the bottom.

I was about to keep moving, when I caught a glimpse of something familiar. Someone familiar.

At the very corner of the board, a photo of Tony and some kid was pinned down by a red tack. The kid was holding a certificate, of some kind, and he and Tony were holding up peace signs. They looked like they were having fun. The only issue I was having was that the kid on the right looked exactly like someone I knew.

Why the hell did Tony have a picture of him and Peter Parker in his lab?

"Whatcha' doing in here, bud?"

I flinched, spinning around at the sound of someone's voice. I hadn't heard someone walk in. Friday didn't greet them either.

A short man strode towards me, his hands in his pockets, and an innocent smile on his face. I didn't recognize him, but I wasn't exactly scared. He had to have been cleared by security to even get into the tower.

"Ooh, you're one of the shy ones. Got it." He raised his brows at my lack of response. "Scott Lang."

He held out his hand, and I took it. "[y/n] Agreste."

"Mind telling me what you're doing in Tony's lab?"

"I was just looking for him."

Something flickered in his eyes, and I could tell that he didn't fully believe me. In his defense, I did seem rather suspicious. He took his hands out of his pockets so he could cross his arms against his chest.

"Avengers got called out on some 'Avenger-y' duties," he explained. "I pulled the short-end-of-the-stick, so I'm stuck on tower defense stuff."

"Tower defense?"

"Yeah, when everyone's elsewhere saving the world, one of us has to stay and watch the tower. Believe it or not, but sometimes villains try to lure us away intentionally."

My eyes widened. "Are you an avenger?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I'm Ant-Man, though," he smiled. When I didn't elicit a reaction from that, he cleared his throat and kept talking. "You gonna' tell me what you're doing here? The lab was clearly empty from the doorway, so I doubt you've been looking for Tony this whole time. He's not hiding in one of the dustpans, I can tell you that."

His comment made me chuckle. "I was just looking at these pictures."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But, specifically this one." I pointed at the one of Tony and Peter.

I just didn't get it. Peter was supposed to be my chaperone, and every day I've been here, he's never wandered off without my knowledge. How could he have had time to strike up a bond so tight with Tony Stark, that his picture was tacked onto the workshop's cork-board?

"Oh yeah, those two are like peas in a pod." Scott said confidently. "Tony's kind of like Peter's dad."

I spun my head towards the man. "What?"

"Woah, not literally. He's just been like a father figure to the kid ever since he got recruited."

"But they just met a few weeks ago."

"A few weeks ago?" Scott laughed. "No they didn't."

"And what do you mean by recruited?"

My tone must have been harsh, because Scott suddenly seemed hesitant to keep talking. I was confused, and something didn't feel right. Peter Parker didn't know Tony Stark. If he did, he wouldn't have pretended to meet him for the first time with me, and he wouldn't have acted so shocked when first seeing the tower.

Peter Parker couldn't know Tony Stark, because Peter wouldn't lie to me.

"Wait, what did you say your name was again?" Scott asked. "You don't work for the Avengers, do you?"

I furrowed my brow. "No?"

"Oh. I've got to go."

Scott was already sprinting for the door by the time I opened my mouth. Clearly he'd said something he wasn't supposed to say, and it had something to do with Peter.

"Hey, come back!" I called out.

But Scott had already disappeared.

I turned back to the cork-board, glancing at the photo with a sudden feeling of distaste on my tongue. Clearly there were secrets being kept from me, and there was no doubt in my mind that Peter was hiding some of them.

Bzz!

I took my phone out of my pocket, and glanced at the screen. 

Here! Peter had texted. Meet you downstairs?

I frowned.

Who are you really, Parker?