How Mjolnir Became Relatable

Thor has the blessing of undying good looks, and that is a grave understatement.

Everyone knows he's a ladies' man, but sometimes people forget his beauty can attract anyone and everyone, regardless of gender or age or species or whatever other divisions we create for living beings.

And, of course, his beauty can be seen in many ways: at a temple, in comic books, on the news, as he flies past you with lightning crackling on his skin, or, more simply, at the Avengers' Compound.

The Avengers Compound is an odd place, full of quirks and bursting with flaws but teeming with love and respect nonetheless. For Peter, it's basically heaven. It's a place to be himself and geek out with only the mildest of glares thrown his way every time he references something nobody else understands - not to mention, it's a place where the least likely person will catch on to some new trend and become obsessed, coming to Peter to share jokes and references. It's a place full of surprises.

He's had a lot of shocks in his rather brief time. He's seen Tony forget his left from his right, he's seen Natasha and Clint dress up and act like one another for the sake of a bet, he's seen Loki and Bucky work together to knit, and so much more, but Thor... Well, Thor's 'unique difference' is a whole other thing, as Peter eventually discovers...

When he wakes up with no particular excuse or reason for what must be the eleventh time in a month, he briefly wonders whether or not spiders can actually sleep for longer than an hour or so and if his own sleep cycle is affected by the influence of the arachnids he shares characteristics with.

After scribbling down a note to remind himself later, he yawns and decides he may as well get himself something to eat from the kitchen. Dinner feels like half a century ago...

His bedroom is the closest to the kitchen so it's not a long journey, and he yawns once more as he flicks on the dimmest light once he reaches.

He freezes.

He can sense someone else in the kitchen with him. His mind races as he spins on his toes, his eyes scanning the room and finding next to nothing, except the rather large silhouette of someone in the corner. Peter's eyes widen and he steps back, ready to launch himself at whoever felt the need to invade their kitchen.

"Spiderling!" a bright voice booms.

Peter exhales, realising the man in the shadows is not his enemy. He flicks on the brighter light - still not the brightest one because he doesn't want to wake anyone else up - and smiles at Thor.

"Hey, Tho- what are yo- oh my gosh, oh my gosh, you don't have any- okay-" He squeezes his eyes shut but they fly open again when he hears something crash.

"Are you feeling alright?" Thor asks.

Peter can see the concerned look on his face, guessing that he'd knocked something over as he'd stepped forwards, so he tries to keep his gaze on Thor's face, not wanting it to go any lower because of his clothes, or, rather, lack thereof, and not wanting to close his eyes in case he seems rude.

"Yeah, absolutely fine, Mister Thor, I'm fine. Can I, uh, can I ask why you're not wearing... aheh, anything?"

Thor chuckles and claps a hand on Peter's shoulder with a smile.

"On Asgard, we sleep without shame and we embrace our natural states!"

Peter breathes, trying very hard not to stare at Thor's arm because the force of that gesture had paralleled even Bucky's vibranium arm and, naturally, he can't help wondering what kind of muscles he must have for such a thing to occur.

"You do?"

"Not really, spiderling, but it means the other Avengers don't risk stealing my food in the middle of the night!"

Peter chuckles and Thor gives him a thumbs-up, which serves not only to reassure him but to drag his attention back to those extremely defined biceps. Without thinking, his hand moves forwards and it takes him far too long to realise what he's doing and jump back with an apologetic look.

"Is the biceps again? It seems to always be the biceps..." Thor mutters, apparently taking Peter's admiration as a casual occurance rather than an insane act.

"Are you... Are they natural?"

Thor smiles, his eyes crackling with pride, and grabs Peter's shoulder with one hand, gently but firmly lifting him off the floor - making him feel as if he's actually flying - and turning on the spot before letting him down once again without breaking even half a sweat.

Peter just breathes, completely in awe.

"How?"

"When you grow up with Loki, a few muscles come in handy."

He nods, still staring at the way Thor's skin seems to ripple and flaunt its strength with every word he says, every little movement he makes. Then he just nods again, trying to ground himself because his head feels a little too light, like someone's infused his blood with helium, and he can't quite hear anything at all anymore. Before he can nod a third time, his gaze falls a little and suddenly it's biology class all over again, this version of anatomy lessons causing his eyes to close just as he feels himself falling.

The sight of slightly curled blond hair is what he's met with when he wakes and realises he's on the floor with Thor leaning over him like some sort of stormy angel of muscles. The back of his head feels cold, which he quickly realises is because he'd landed with his head in front of the fridge, narrowly escaping a more serious injury.

"Spiderling, are you quite alright?"

Peter groans, blinking. Had he really just passed out? At the sight of muscles? He internally smacks himself and tries to school his expression into nochalance.

Thor, either not sensing or choosing to ignore Peter's mild humiliation, continues: "Perhaps you should install one of those miniature cooling boxes in your room to avoid situations such as this?"

He blushes, embarrassed, hating the fact that Thor's muscular beauty had quite literally blown him away. At least it's Thor, he reminds himself, if it was anyone else, he'd probably never hear the end of it.

"Uh, can we... Not mention this to Mister Stark, please?" Peter ends up squeaking, still distracted by the sight of so many muscles in such close vicinity.

Smiling and satisfied that Peter will live, Thor pulls himself upright and holds out a hand for the teenager to take, which he does with no hesitation, a small part of his brain wanting to feel the power of as many of the muscles as he can. Once he's on his own two feet, Thor doesn't let go of his hand, choosing instead to say: "Not to worry, young Avenger. You are not the first to tremble before my body."

Peter grins as best as he can. "Uh, thank you?"

Thor nods and, because their hands are still connected, pulls Peter with him as he strolls out of the kitchen, apparently having heard something.

When it comes down to actually getting his midnight snack and keeping in literal contact with the muscular God, Peter's choice is naturally the latter. He doesn't regret it, all but feeling the strength radiate from Thor, until he sees Natasha leaning against the staircase with a smirk on her face. He wants to bang his head on the wall, he really does, since his spidey sense should have alerted him of her presence. He might share his unstable sleep cycle with spiders but he doesn't reckon appreciation for muscles is something arachnids focus on, so he's solely to blame for this one.

"Ah, mother arachnid! It seems young Peter here takes after you!"

Peter's blush recedes a little as he sees Natasha's eyes widen in annoyance. It takes him longer than it should to realise what Thor means to say, at which point he gapes at Natasha with an incredulous look.

"Don't look at me like that!" Natasha scolds, "At least I didn't faint!"

Thor chuckles and Peter subconsciously hides behind Thor, regretting it when he catches sight of Thor's toned back and finds himself unable to look away, frozen to the spot as Natasha says something else, probably something to do with asking why he's out of bed in the first place.

"Spiderling?" Thor's voice – or rather, the way Thor's shoulders move as he asks – gets Peter's attention and he blinks rapidly, looking up at Thor with a questioning look. "You okay?"

"Fine, yeah, I'm fine, sorry, what did I miss?"

Natasha has never looked so amused, not even when Tony had fallen down the invisible staircase and Bruce had hulked out to stop him hitting the floor too hard, resulting in a squashed sofa and the painstakingly difficult process of finding an exact replica. As she cocks her head at him, Peter attempts an innocent grin, not really wanting this to be the extent of his reputation.

In the end, she just sighs. "Let's just… let's all wear clothes next time, deal?"

"Absolutely! Now, Spiderling, I do so love the texture of your hand but I feel we should disperse before anybody else walks in," Thor says, beaming at Peter and sending a little explosion of joy shooting through his blood.

"Uh- Thank you, Mister Thor," he mumbles.

Thor gives his hand a little squeeze before letting go and sauntering off, still stark naked.

He can't tear his gaze away from Thor's shoulders even as Natasha chuckles at him. It's only once Thor's out of sight that he turns to Natasha with a sheepish look. "Please don't tell Mister Stark."

"Even if he knows, he can't hold it against you."

"Why not?" Peter asks, frowning a little.

She smirks at him and winks. "Well, he'd have to deal with me telling everyone how he's done more or less the same thing. Multiple times."

Peter's eyes widen but he's secretly glad he's not the only one. There's also a section of his brain that recognises the potential for blackmail but he ignores it, not wanting to risk making Tony hate him or getting himself kicked out of the Avengers.

After a moment where both arachnid representatives contemplate the blackmail of their favourite genius, Peter grins happily. "I just held hands with the God of storm stuff."

"That you did," Natasha agrees with a proud smile, "Now, if you're done with your crush, I'm going to make hot cocoa."

"Sprinkles?"

"In the shape of lightning?"

Peter beams, literally skipping back to the kitchen and vibrating with happiness as Natasha makes them both hot cocoa, offering Peter the jar of sprinkles once she's done but then changing her mind because they both know he'd probably get sprinkles everywhere except in the mugs.

"You tell anyone that I still put sprinkles on my hot cocoa and you'll regret it," Natasha tells him, her voice perfectly even as if she hadn't just threatened him. He chokes on the sip he'd been taking but nods frantically, hesitantly smiling as Natasha laughs and ruffles his hair.

The hot cocoa suddenly seems a lot more meaningful, as if the beverage's true potential had been hidden, lying in wait, now suddenly unlocked. Not that he's complaining, no, not even when Natasha takes to calling him 'Sprinkles' and refuses to explain the nickname to anyone else, much to Tony's utter exasperation and Thor's confused amusement. Thor himself starts to take Peter's hand at random times, often making him jump and causing the other Avengers to drop whatever they're holding whenever it happens, especially since he sometimes does it halfway into a very serious conversation.

Eventually, Natasha points out that Thor looks about as happy as he did holding his hammer when his hand is in Peter's, and if that isn't a self-esteem booster, nothing can be. His ears turn red every time he sees Thor because he can't forget that he'd fainted but he finds his embarrassment fading into nostalgia after a while. He does wonder if Mjolnir had felt the same euphoria when in contact with Thor, though. No wonder the hammer had always come back to him; who wouldn't?

Peter had never thought he'd relate to Mjolnir and he blames Thor's odd habits entirely for his strange predicament, but he can't say he's unsatisfied with the surprising outcome of his currently-unexplained insomnia.

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