Somehow, the three of them found themselves in a pancake diner for brunch.

"Your treat." Peter told Tony, feet tucked onto the edge of his seat, pressing a pencil to his chin as he finished off his math homework.

"Why mines?" Tony demanded, sticking out his lower lip into a faux pout as he straightened from his half sprawled position on their table. "You and your dumb knife wound made me miss breakfast, if it weren't for you, we wouldn't even be here."

Peter tossed Bruce a light smirk, head tilted back, fingers idly running along the edge of his paper. "Your welcome." He said, splaying out his arms as he dipped into a dramatic bow. "Yes, 'twas my brilliance that got you this wonderful pancake breakfast."

Bruce smiled as he stirred his milkshake, picking the leaves off of the strawberry that was placed on the edge of the glass. "This place is quite nice." He mused. "Quite old fashioned, though. How did you manage to find a place like this?"

Peter grinned as he shoved his math homework back into his binder and pulled out his science. "I found it while I was looking for a job."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "What about your extracurricular activities?" He asked, "Did that ever interfere?"

"All the time." Peter leaned back, "That's why I got fired. The manager let me stay on for a while, even though I didn't show up half the time." He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck sheepishly, eyes lowered. "Couldn't keep it in the end, of course. I kept running off in the middle of the job, missing shifts... and I was never much good at making it up to them... but the manager's a nice guy. He tried to give me a chance."

Bruce leaned forwards, a slight frown tugging at the edges of his lips. "Why are you doing this, Peter?" He asked quietly. "Doing what you do... why don't you just leave that to us? You're still a kid, still got a life, you don't have to..."

"I do." Peter cut in.

Bruce tilted his head to the side, pressing his chin into his hands, both eyebrows raising up.

Peter flushed, lowering his eyes as he fiddled nervously with the edge of his sleeve. "I... I have to. Doing what I do... it's important. I have to do it."

For a moment, Bruce looked as though he wanted to keep talking, but his expression softened, and he murmured, "I understand."

"I mean, I get that there are other competent people, and I totally respect that, but at the same time... wait, you understand?" Peter's head snapped up, his tense shoulders loosening as his fingers faltered and pulled away from his wrists. "I mean, yeah, of course you understand." He bit his lower lip, feet shifting across the floor. "...what do you understand?"

"That you've got a serious hero complex." Tony declared, his grin widening when Peter flushed.

"That you feel responsible." Bruce corrected Tony, lightly tapping his fingers against the table in a soothing ta-thump, ta-thump, ta-thump. "I get it. You feel like when bad things happen, it's your fault. But it's not."

"It is," Peter shook his head, muscles turning stiff and rigid as he muttered, "When you have these abilities, when you can do what I can do... if you don't do anything, if you let something bad happen, it's because you didn't... because you didn't do what you should have."

Bruce took a sip from his smoothie, and then took a piece of Tony's bacon. "Tony's right." He rolled his eyes. "You do have a hero complex. If something bad happens around you, it's because you couldn't do anything. Not because you skirted your duty, but because you're a human being."

Peter's eyes drifted to the briefcase next to Tony, and then to Bruce's eyes, then he answered quietly, "None of us are human."

Tony's jaw tightened, and he groused, "Shut up, kid. I didn't come here for this gooey chick flick moment, I came for breakfast."

"It's not a chick flick moment." Peter replied as he slipped his homework back into his bag and stood up. "It's the truth." He tossed his bag at Tony and his fingers slid into his pocket. "I'll be right back."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to..."

The edges of Peter's lips turned up into a crooked smirk. "Five minutes." He replied confidently. "Call the cops."

"That wasn't five minutes." Bruce noted as he finished off Tony's bacon. "That was 2 minutes and 52 seconds."

Peter tossed Tony a superior smirk, "Told you it would be fine."

"I would have finished it faster." Tony stuck out his tongue childishly.

Peter took a piece of Tony's eggs. "No way, I was the coolest."

Watching them argue who was better... Iron Man and Spider-man... made Bruce wonder what Peter would have been like if he wasn't Spider-man.

He wouldn't be like this. Bruce reflected. Spider-man was a part of Peter, maybe even more than Iron Man was a part of Tony.

For some reason, the thought made his stomach churn.

He wondered if the Other Guy was the same for him.

Just as much a part of him.

Suddenly, he didn't feel all that hungry anymore.

A hand slipped into his, and he glanced up at Peter. "Sorry," Peter offered Bruce another crooked, sideways smile. "You feeling alright? You seem pale."

"Yeah," Bruce nodded, "I'm fine."

Peter flushed, and quickly pulled his hand out of Bruce's. "Sorry, that was weird. I, just, um, felt weird."

"Falling in love, Petey?" Tony teased.

"Not with you," Peter retorted, voice childish and high, the only sign of his discomfort found in his hunched shoulders and the red refusing to leave his cheeks. He glanced at Bruce, uncertain and concerned. "...You sure you're fine?" He asked quietly.

Bruce nodded as he raised his glass to his lips. "I'm fine." He mumbled.

He spent the rest of the time thinking of how easy it would be to hide in a city as big as this.

Then he wondered how easy it would be to destroy it.

A/N: Haha, you thought this was complete, didn't you? Well... it's not! Why? Because I'm a stupid procrastinating idiot who would rather write than deal with life... How are you guys doing? Life treating you okay?