The soft glow of the TV screen illuminated the room as you sat cross-legged on the floor, completely focused on the game. Clint was leaning forward, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration as he mashed the buttons on his controller. But no matter how hard he tried, it was clear you had the upper hand.

"Come on, come on..." Clint muttered under his breath, his fingers moving furiously.

The final blow landed, and the game announced your victory with a triumphant fanfare. You threw your arms in the air, laughing, while Clint groaned and threw his controller onto the sofa. "I let you win," he pouted, crossing his arms like a child denied dessert.

"Oh, sure you did," you teased, a playful grin tugging at your lips. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, which only made him blush harder. "You're just a sore loser, love."

Clint's ears turned red as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not blushing," he mumbled.

Just then, Natasha strolled into the room, her sharp gaze taking in the scene with a knowing smirk. She crossed her arms and leaned casually against the doorway. "Well, well. Didn't know you were so competitive, (Name)."

"Only when it comes to Clint," you quipped, flashing her a grin.

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head. "Hey, you wanna train? I could use a sparring partner who won't hold back."

You nodded, standing and stretching your arms over your head. "Yeah, I could use something to blow off some steam."

Clint waved his hand lazily from the sofa. "You're just mad you can't beat me at video games."

You shot him a teasing look as you laid the controller on the cushion beside him. "Sure, Clint. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Natasha tilted her head toward the training room. "Come on, let's see if you've still got those moves."

"See you, Clint," you called over your shoulder, following Natasha out of the room.

As the two of you walked toward the training area, the atmosphere in the tower felt light, almost peaceful. But in the back of your mind, the shadows of looming threats—Ultron, Thanos—remained. For now, though, you allowed yourself this moment of quiet. The calm before the storm.

Natasha glanced sideways at you as you both entered the training room. "You've been tense lately."

You shrugged, rolling your shoulders to loosen them up. "Hard not to be. We've got a killer robot running around and an alien warlord looming in the distance."

Natasha nodded, her expression thoughtful. "True. But you know we'll face them together, right?"

You met her gaze, a flicker of warmth spreading in your chest. "Yeah. I know."

With a smirk, Natasha stepped into the sparring ring. "Good. Now, let's see if you can still keep up."

You grinned, slipping into a fighting stance. "Oh, I'm gonna do more than keep up."

SCENEBREAK

The streets of New York bustled with life as you and Peter strolled down the sidewalk, shopping bags swinging in your hands. Peter Parker was practically buzzing with excitement, his usual shy demeanor replaced by the wide-eyed joy of someone thrilled to spend time with a person he looked up to. Every so often, he would glance at you, as if still trying to process that he was hanging out with you—one of the Avengers' most mysterious and powerful allies.

Tony, of course, had been adamant about sending a guard along with you both. "You two are magnets for trouble," he had said, arms crossed in that typical Stark stance. "There's no way I'm letting you go out there without backup."

But you had waved him off with a confident smirk. "Tony, I'm the most powerful being in this universe. I don't need a babysitter."

Peter had laughed nervously at that, but now, walking beside you, he seemed more at ease. "I still can't believe you talked Mr. Stark out of it," he said, grinning. "He's usually super strict about that stuff."

You shrugged, adjusting your grip on the bags. "Tony worries too much. Besides, if anything happens, I think I can handle it."

Peter chuckled. "Yeah, I bet you can."

The two of you wandered into a small comic book store, the scent of paper and ink filling the air. Peter's eyes lit up as he scanned the shelves, eagerly flipping through the latest issues of his favorite series. You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"You really love this stuff, huh?" you teased, leaning against a nearby shelf.

Peter nodded, a blush creeping up his neck. "Yeah... it's kind of my thing." He glanced over at you, suddenly self-conscious. "It's probably lame, right?"

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms. "Lame? Not at all. It's good to have something you love."

Peter's face lit up at your words. "Thanks. That means a lot."

As you both left the shop, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the streets in a warm golden glow. Peter hummed a tune to himself as he walked beside you, his steps light and carefree.

"Y'know," he said after a moment, "it's kind of crazy to think about. You could probably do... well, anything. And yet, here you are, hanging out with me."

You smiled, glancing at him. "Peter, I might be powerful, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy the simple things. Spending time with friends, exploring the city... It keeps me grounded."

Peter nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yeah... I guess that makes sense."

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from an alleyway nearby, followed by a shout. Peter tensed, his Spidey senses on high alert. "Uh-oh."

You sighed, cracking your knuckles. "Looks like we've got trouble."

Peter grinned nervously. "Guess Tony was right about us being magnets for trouble."

You gave him a playful nudge. "Come on, Spider-Boy. Let's go handle it."

The two of you dashed toward the commotion, ready to face whatever was waiting for you. After all, you weren't just a powerful being in this universe—you were someone who stood by your friends, no matter what.

SCENEBREAKJ

The alleyway was dim and narrow, filled with the scent of damp concrete and garbage. The sounds of a struggle echoed off the walls—grunting, the scrape of metal, and the unmistakable whirr of something mechanical powering up.

You and Peter rounded the corner just in time to see a group of masked thugs, clearly armed with stolen Stark tech, cornering a man who looked terrified. One of the thugs held a repurposed repulsor gauntlet, the blue glow of the energy core humming ominously.

"Hand over your wallet, old man," the thug growled, the gauntlet crackling with power.

Peter didn't hesitate. "Hey! Why don't you guys try picking on someone your own size?" he called, his voice taking on that cocky tone he used when he was Spider-Man.

The thugs spun around, their eyes narrowing when they saw him. "Spider-Man?" one of them sneered. "Oh, great. Just what we need."

You sighed, stepping forward beside Peter. "And me," you added, your voice calm but carrying an unmistakable authority.

The thug with the gauntlet pointed it at you. "Who the hell are you?"

Peter glanced at you, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "They really don't know who you are?"

You chuckled softly, the air around you seeming to hum with energy. "Guess not."

The thug aimed the gauntlet and fired. The energy blast surged toward you—but you didn't even flinch. With a simple flick of your wrist, the blast stopped midair, crackling and sparking as it hovered for a moment before dissipating harmlessly.

The thugs stared in stunned silence. "What the—?"

Peter whistled. "Wow. That's... kinda terrifying."

You smirked, stepping closer to the thugs. "You've got about three seconds to drop those stolen toys and walk away."

The thug with the gauntlet took a shaky step back, but another one growled, "Screw this! We can take them!"

Peter groaned. "They always say that."

Without warning, the thugs charged. Peter leapt into action, flipping over their heads and webbing one of them to the alley wall. You, meanwhile, remained calm, dodging a swing from one thug before grabbing his wrist and twisting it just enough to make him drop the repulsor gauntlet.

"You really shouldn't mess with Stark tech," you said coolly, pushing the thug backward. "It's above your pay grade."

Another thug lunged at you from behind, but you spun around, catching his arm and flipping him to the ground with ease. Peter was already tying up the last two with his webs, grinning as he landed beside you.

"Nice work," he said, giving you a thumbs-up.

You nodded. "You too."

The man the thugs had been harassing stepped forward, trembling. "Thank you—thank you both. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up."

Peter gave the man a reassuring smile. "Just doing our job, sir."

You glanced at the tied-up thugs. "JARVIS?"

The AI's voice crackled to life in your earpiece. "Yes, Miss [Name]?"

"Send a team to pick up some trash in the alley near 14th Street."

"Right away."

Peter chuckled. "You've got Stark's AI on speed dial?"

You shrugged. "Perks of the job."

As the two of you walked back toward the main street, Peter looked up at you, his expression thoughtful. "Hey... thanks for letting me come along. It's nice to do something normal, y'know? Even if we did have to fight a bunch of thugs."

You smiled. "Of course, Peter. You're a good kid."

He grinned. "I try."

Just as you reached the crosswalk, Peter's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and groaned. "Uh-oh."

"What is it?" you asked.

"Mr. Stark," Peter said with a wince. "He's... not happy."

You sighed, pulling out your own phone to see several missed calls from Tony. "Great."

Peter laughed nervously. "Think we're in trouble?"

You smirked. "Nah. We'll just tell him it was your idea."

Peter's eyes widened. "Wait, what?!"

You both burst out laughing as you headed back toward the tower. For now, you had peace. Trouble would always find you—but with friends like Peter by your side, you knew you could handle anything the universe threw your way.