Author's Note: Happy New Year! 2019, my friends! =)

Last chapter! Whoop! Thank you so much for sticking with me this long! =) You're amazing!

Warnings: Some violence.

Chapter Seven:

Peter wakes up with a staggering headache, a burning sensation in the back of his throat, and the strong desire to throw up. Light is pulsing into his eyelids with the burning power of looking straight into the sun without any coverings and it isn't helping the headache. Peter hisses softly through his teeth slightly and pulls a hand up to cover his face to block out the worst of the glare.

"Sorry." A voice murmurs and the phosphorescent wanes.

Mmm.

Yeah, that's better.

That voice. Peter knows that voice. Where does he know it from? Blue lights...red...um...Iron Man. Tony Stark. Mr. Stark. He's in the room with him. He adjusted the light. Memories follow this thought rapidly and Peter rips his eyes open, jerking forward into a sitting position with a noise that sounds a mixture of a wailing cat and cry of pain.

Thor. Loki.

Weird, purple-eyed-glitter lady.

The dust-thing.

Then nothing.

A hand grips his shoulder and Peter whips his head up to see Mr. Stark staring at him with a thinned expression, "Hey," he says softly, "it's fine. You've probably got a wicked headache. Lay down."

Peter shakes his head—which does not help the pulsing burn behind his eyelids in the slightest. He presses his fingers against his temples and swallows, opening his mouth to make a noise, but all that comes out is a croak.

Mr. Stark shifts and there's a few seconds before a glass of water is stuffed into his hands. Peter takes it gratefully and downs the liquid before turning to Mr. Stark, "There's…" he clears his throat and winces slightly, "person. Here. For Loki and Thor."

"The Asgardian prince and the Jotunn wretch."

Mr. Stark nods and releases a slight breath, running a hand through his messy hair. "It's handled, you've been asleep for a while."

He can't keep doing this. The next time he has to skip he's going to have to retake this grade and that appeals very little. Peter pales and wraps his fingers around the glass. School. He is never going to pass school because of how much he's been skipping. He really doesn't want to know, but... "How long is a while?"

"About fifteen hours."

Cats.

"What?"

"Relax." Mr. Stark instructs, "Everything is handled with your aunt and school; they promised to give you extensions. Natasha called you in for a family emergency, anyone asks, your aunt had major food poisoning last night, kay?"

But that did not—

"Um—?"

"And before you ask, no, she didn't. She's not very happy about what happened, but she agreed to the facade."

Right. Great. He is so grounded when he gets home.

"Okay, but—"

"Yes, Thor and Loki are fine...ish. We got to the scene of the attack shortly after you passed out. The woman is detained via S.H.I.E.L.D. and being held for questioning. Clint spent some time with her and what we know so far is that she's told us is that she hails from somewhere beyond Earth and Thanos is her father—apparently he's some sort of maniac, I didn't really press for details."

Alright. Great. Because the universe doesn't already have enough of those.

"Ish?"

Mr. Stark's lips thin tightly, "Ah, um, in the battle, some things were revealed that Loki and Thor didn't know, and they're...processing."

Okay. Right. What would they not know that would make them "process"? Is it something about Asgard? Does the glitter-eyed-lady know anything more about it than they do? "Like what?"

Tony pauses, then sighs wringing his hands anxiously. "In the war with Malekith, they weren't on Asgard. They didn't know about Queen Frigga's death."

Peter stills and exhales softly through his nose. "Oh."

Mr. Stark nods slightly, "Yeah."

Grief is something that is hard to process. Peter's had more experience with it than he cares for—he really doesn't want to think about this. He needs to switch topics. "Do you have a name for the woman?" Peter asks.

Mr. Stark nods, leaning back in the chair slightly. He looks exhausted. When was the last time that he slept? Mr. Stark has awful sleeping habits on his best days, but it doesn't look like he's slept since yesterday. "Midnight Proxima. She was one of Loki and Thor's sub-captors." Tony explains.

Perfect. Swell. Great rainbows in the sky.

"Great." Peter mutters.

"Not really." Tony counters.

No kidding.

"But otherwise? They're fine?" Peter presses.

"Thor's eye is looking better and Loki's fingers set, Proxima didn't get much time to do anything before Bucky suckerpunched her in the face. Natasha had her pinned in about a minute and the rest of us were shortly behind to keep her that way. I am very grateful that I've never had to be on the end of the Winter-Widow teamup of death when they actually mean to hurt you. She looked pretty purple...well, more so that she should be." Tony says, his expression thoughtful.

"Glitter eyes." Peter agrees, "It's not natural." Weird and reminds him of mermaids for some strange reason.

"Are you alright?" Tony asks, drawing him back to the present. "It took us a while to find something to counter her drugs—and it wasn't even us. Did you know that Loki is an avid chemist? Apparently he's really into that sort of thing. He and Bruce geek-talked and he recommended a solution. Sorry. Rambling. What I'm trying to say is that you scared me."

Peter's lips thin and he bites his tongue heavily for a second.

What the heck is he supposed to say to that?

"Sorry. I just...I don't know, my senses had been going nuts for hours so when she attacked I didn't have any warning of it happening." His spider sense sometimes does that, it can be very useful, but then it has the days that it's like a sick child who keeps sneezing and the sensory overload is powerful and painful. For the most part, he just ignores the warnings. As he did last night...day(?).

Mr. Stark hums quietly in response.

...And it was definitely unhappy after running into Mr. Osborn, whom Peter still doesn't know how he knew about him. Peter didn't agree to putting his name into the S.H.I.E.L.D. database when Coulson brought it up.

Unless...

Unless...

"Mr. Stark?"

Mr. Stark tips his head, "Yes?"

"Can I ask a question? About the internship." Peter questions. The internship that is hardly an internship anymore, which why it is not surprise that everyone is pretty sure Peter got fired.

"What about it?" Mr. Stark asks his voice pitched with slight surprise.

"Did…" Peter pauses, mentally rewording before instead saying: "We agreed to keep my identity private, right?"

"Right."

"The Avengers, Coulson, May and me. That was it?" Peter asks, desperately hoping for a confirmation. He doesn't get it.

Instead, Mr. Stark looks puzzled. "I don't understand…" He trails, then his brow furrows and his brown eyes narrow, "Wait, did something happen? Does someone know?"

Peter barely represses a wince. Mr. Stark's mind is always blurring forward at rates so fast Peter doesn't think he can ever compare. "Not exactly. Norman Osborn tried to offer me a job at Oscorp." Peter reveals. Which is nice and all, but off setting and extremely uncomfortable and—

Tony goes rigid and his expression looks mildly lethal. "What? How dare that soul-sucking creep try to take my kid—" Mr. Stark stops abruptly mid-rant and turns to him eyes suddenly desperate, "Did he harm you? What did he do? Does he know about Spider-Man?"

What?

No.

Small kittens.

What if he does?

"No, nothing, and no." Peter assures, "At least as far as I could tell on the latter."

Mr. Stark makes a frustrated noise and runs a hand through his hair, one hand coming to rub against the arc reactor for a second. He blows a raspberry. "Alright. I'll talk to Clint, he can do some scoping to see what his endgame is. For now, you need to rest."

Peter shakes his head and bites his tongue at the power of his headache. "I'm not tired."

Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow, as if this was the expected answer. "We're pumping alien drugs from your system that put you in such a deep sleep your brainwaves almost stopped completely."

...Oh.

"...I'll um, go back to sleep then."

"Good choice."

000o000

Peter gets released from the hospital the next day after extensive examining that involves Dr. Banner practically shoving medical equipment up his nose to look at his brain, and goes home to an enraged aunt who yells at him for being an idiot then cries. They spend the night on the couch together watching as much of the Star Wars trilogy as they can until they both fall asleep.

The next morning is a scramble for her to get to work and Peter to school, so they hardly speak as they rush to and fro gathering supplies.

School passes with minimal problems (save when he walked into his math class and his teacher asked how his aunt was and Peter almost asked him if something was wrong with her); and when Peter is finally freed from it's embrace, he escapes to the city as Spider-Man.

He spends a few hours helping where he can before turning his focus to Avengers Tower to go check on Loki and Thor. He didn't get a chance to speak with them before he left and he only saw Loki briefly when he walked past with Dr. Banner as he was trying to sleep the drugs off.

When he arrives at the Tower, he spots a figure sitting on the edge of the landing platform. Confused, but not nearly as surprised as what could be proper (the Avengers have done weirder things, like the one time with the giant battle against some dude who was holding an entire apartment building hostage and they managed to convince him to flee into a trap by waving laser pointers at him—long story, Peter's found it better not to ask for details).

He swings onto the edge and recognizes Loki a few seconds later. The Asgardian is dressed in sweatpants, one of Tony's various collection of Avengers T-shirts and wrapped in a thick jacket that he's pretty sure came from Bucky. Even with the bulk of clothing, it's still clear how painfully thin he is. His long hair is tucked back into a braid that was probably done by Natasha (he has seen her hair doing skills and it is nothing to laugh over) and his fingers are still wrapped in the bandages.

Peter rocks on his feet for a second before moving forward and plopping down next to him. Loki flicks his gaze up to him before returning it out to the city.

Peter follows his gaze for a second; the sun is setting slowly in the distance casting a brilliant light on the buildings and makes them seem to glow. New York is never quiet on it's best days, and this is more than true today. Peter wouldn't find it distracting, per say, but New York's beauty is something that he's just adjusted to—he doesn't really think about it anymore.

There's silence between them for about a minute before Peter glances back at Loki, "You okay?"

Loki releases a breath and lifts his hands, picking at his right palm, "I don't know."

Peter's lips thin and he hums slightly, "Yeah. I get that," he assures. He pauses for a second as he realizes something: in the midst of knowing Loki and Thor, he has never seen them apart for more than a few minutes. Judging from the flush on Loki's face, he's been outside for a while. "Where's Thor?"

Loki gestures vaguely behind them towards the penthouse, "With his beloved."

Dr. Foster. Thor is with Dr. Foster. "Oh," Peter voices. He's quiet for a second, his gaze flickering back and forth between Loki and the building, "...are you hiding from them?"

Loki whips his head up and raises a thin eyebrow in his direction, "Hardly. Why would I be? They aren't doing anything but holding hands and speaking for long periods of times. This isn't the first time that Thor has courted and…" The Asgardian trails, sighs then buries his head into his hands, "Yes. I am."

Peter's suddenly very grateful for the mask because it hides the smile that spreads on his face of amusement. "Why?"

Loki doesn't lift his head, remaining hunched forward, "Lady Foster is overwhelming. Thor finds great comfort in her presence, but I...don't."

When Loki doesn't elaborate, Peter nudges his arm slightly. It's like dragging poison from a wound to get Loki do talk about something. But he's doing better. A few days ago he wouldn't have said anything at all...the Avengers have that effect. They're terrifying, certainly, but they also have this ability to make anyone feel safe and at ease when they want them to.

Loki jumps slightly at the touch, but looks up at him. Peter gestures with his hands for him to continue and Loki's lips press together tightly. "I think I'd rather not."

Peter frowns, "Talking about it will help."

"It won't."

"I have personal experience with this. Ask Mr. Stark."

"Well, isn't that just fine." Loki snaps, he looks prepared to run and Peter grabs his shoulder to ground him. Loki tenses under his touch, but Peter forces his posture to remain calm to ease the Asgardian.

"I was held captive too, Loki." Loki stills and stares at him with wide green eyes. Peter bites at his lip suddenly wondering why on Earth he decided to talk about this when he barely managed to get the full story out to Mr. Stark and May when they talked to him. "One of Mr. Stark's employees was working on a project and stole some of the repulser...ah,right, you don't know what that is. Some of his equipment. Anyway, Mr. Stark found out about it and fired him, and he was furious. He stole his project and went after Mr. Stark.

"I saw the attack and stopped him from taking of Mr. Stark's head, but he escaped. Mr. Stark thanked me for saving him and I sort of thought that was it. Mr. Stark found out my identity 'cause he thought I sounded young and contacted me about an internship at his company. I said yes. A couple of weeks passed before the would-be-assassin man found out about it, then me and my counterpart and came after me.

"Getting kidnapped is really only fun in movies, you know. He held me in a room without windows or a door for a week. There was food and water, but eventual starvation was going to be the inevitable fate. Mr. Stark found me and I couldn't even speak a coherent sentence to him. So yes, I know what you're talking about."

Peter chews on his inner lip and Loki remains quiet for a long moment.

Loki's rubbing at his chest with two fingers and his lips are thinned, "Please forgive me ignorance."

"I'm not angry." Peter assures, "I just want to know why you're hiding out here."

Loki sighs, "Lady Foster was one of the reasons that me and my brother fell into our captor's hands. I can't look at her without thinking about it."

Ah.

Oh.

Hmm.

Peter makes a noise in the back of his throat, "Yeah. Okay." He fidgets with his hands before glancing at the Asgardian again, "Are you injured?"

Loki looks at him, confused. "What?"

"You keep," Peter mimics the rubbing motion against his chest.

Loki stills it and glances down at his hand as if surprised before tugging his legs up from where they were previously hanging over the edge. "No, I'm not; it's just…" Loki pauses, his eyes rapidly shifting back and forth, "what is the word?"

He turns to him, "When your heart jumps inside your chest or beats wrong? What is that?"

The what?

Peter stares at him flabbergasted for a second before the word and explanation click in his head.

Palpitation.

Oh man.

"Palpitation," Peter supplies, "that's not good. Should I get Dr. Banner or—"

"No," Loki assures, "it wouldn't matter. It will pass, given time. It always has." Apparently sensing Peter's horror Loki shrugs slightly, rising to his feet. "Come, Mr. Stark has been meaning to speak with you."

Peter follows suit and steps into pace with the Asgardian. "Is it just like a medical history, or did something happen?"

Loki smiles slightly, but it's bitter on the edges. "Thor had to restart my heart; it hasn't been the same since that point."

000o000

Loki vanishes when they return inside and Peter spends a few minutes with Thor and Dr. Foster (of whom he immediately embarrasses himself by gushing over her research (astrophysics isn't his thing, but still, it's Dr. Jane Foster) before tracking down Mr. Stark about what he wanted to discuss—which was nothing. He dragged Peter back to the medical room, plopped him down and Dr. Banner examined him for the drugs again before letting him leave.

So Peter went home.

Tired and grumpy, but home.

He gets up the next morning and repeats the process again.

And again.

And again and again and again—for a month. He manages to cram time between Avengers Tower, Spider-Man and school in even though he usually feels like he got smacked over the head by a bear, he drags his feet out of bed every morning to help where he can.

Dr. Foster gets called back to D.C. after the second week, no longer able to put it off so she and Darcy leave with a promise to call Thor and another round of hugs is passed. (Loki looked between plotting her murder and seconds from committing it).

The Avengers aren't called away for any missions and the villains of the world are being strangely merciful by not deciding that Manhattan is the best place for their weekly raze of destruction. (Elsewhere, yeah, they're pretty active, but teh Avengers only get called to deal with two of the larger battles that take less time and S.H.I.E.L.D. deals with the rest). They spend most of their time helping Loki and Thor adjust.

Peter accidentally learns that both of them can speak Russian easily when he walked into the common room one day to hear them rapidly speaking about something with Natasha, Loki's hands moving rapidly (something he's discovered Loki does when he's enthusiastic about the topic) that was far beyond his basic understanding (yes (da) no (n'et) and thank you (spasiba). He knows that Natasha calls him malen'kiy pauk, but what it's supposed to mean is beyond him.)

Loki has an execration for sweets, but Thor can consume entire poptart boxes with ease. They both eat like they haven't seen food for years, but neither really puts on any weight.

Thor is an artist and he and Steve spent hours sketching the New York skyline one day as he taught Loki a few card games (the younger Asgardian cheats, it is not even remotely fair or funny when he doesn't know all the rules but still manages to cheat).

Even though Peter couldn't really see it at first, both of them were raised as princes. They hold themselves a certain way that commands respect, they eat neatly, both of them are fairly clean, and ridiculously firm about their clothing not being a mess. Then there are less graceful things: Thor is terrible at coordination with one eye even with time to adjust and rams into doorways often, Loki is a klutz and frequently trips up stairs when his feet are given opportunity and drops things all the time.

It's as amusing as it is frustrating.

Then they'll do something that will remind Peter that they were held captive for years. Jumping at abrupt contact, Loki transforming into animals and spending hours perched on Thor's shoulders because Thor can't handle people, or when Thor stole from Bruce's library for Loki.

Peter manages to catch up on school with effort and a minimal amount of tears, studies for midterms and passes with A's. He's thrilled and relieved because now he doesn't have to worry about remembering the useless information he'll forget in a few hours anyway, and midterms is over. Tests are just stressful, no matter how they're presented.

Peter proudly proclaims this to Tony who is equally cheerful and declares that they're going to celebrate by going out to some fancy restaurant that Peter probably couldn't afford to buy a napkin from. Or water.

"They're" being everyone.

And so they do.

To the restaurants credit, when the Avengers, Loki, Thor, and Peter walk into the building, they only look mildly surprised before directing them towards one of the largest tables they have available. Peter is humiliated, but buries his red face as best he can by ducking his head and following after the rest of the team.

They plop down at the table like this is one of the most normal things in the world as Peter, Loki and Thor awkwardly take their seats.

Peter is thankfully on the edge beside Natasha, but Loki and Thor get sandwiched between Tony and Clint. Peter's only eaten a few meals with the Avengers before, but he quickly becomes accustomed to the fact that if it's on your plate, it doesn't necessarily mean that it won't be stolen from. They also make each other try different foods by sliding it onto plates or passing it around and watching with delight when everyone makes the same sour face in disgust.

Such as now.

"Uh, this is nasty." Natasha declares, pushing away a plate of a weird yellow-substance that has the consistency of pumpkin pie and tastes like rotting cheese.

"Indeed." Thor says, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth and looking ready to promptly vomit. The two of them, besides Bucky, are the last to try the weird thing—but Loki, who is lactose intolerant, can't have it and doesn't look to sorrowful about it.

"Right?" Tony agrees between a mouthful of something else, "It's like sucking on Cap's socks after he's gone running."

Peter grimaces with disgust.

"Okay, didn't need that mental image." Clint promises, looking vaguely horrified.

"Yeah, me either." Bruce assures.

Steve looks mildly embarrassed and waves a fork in Tony's direction, "You know what, Tony—?"

"Let's not do this now." Sam prompts, throwing a roll towards Steve, "Be appeased by white bread. We're here for Peter, remember?"

Steve glances at him and takes the roll picking off a piece, "Right. Sorry."

Tony smirks and Bucky leans forward to steal a piece from the weird yellow thing and Peter watches his expression morph into disgust and he glances up at Steve. "You could hide poison in that."

Thor perks, "Really?" He asks, then nudges Loki's elbow, "Do you remember when—"

"Yes." Loki cuts, "Let's not get into details."

"What details?" Peter asks curiously, glancing between the two.

Loki blows out a breath and makes a pointed look in Thor's direction, "Nothing."

"Whoa, okay, wait," Tony commands, lifting a hand and causing Loki to groan and bury his head into his hands. "I want to hear the story about poison."

"No." Loki says firmly.

"Thor?" Clint asks hopefully.

Thor shakes his head, but his lips are twitching on a smile, "That is not my tale to reveal."

"Darn," Clint murmurs, "those are usually pretty entertaining. Who got poisoned?"

"Me," Loki says and lifts his head to glare in the archers direction, "I, as you are well aware, have allergies. Someone put one of such things into a acidic food and I couldn't taste it then spent hours throwing up. Satisfied?"

Clint looks considerably put down by it, winces slightly, but nods. "Yep, sorry."

Peter awkwardly bites at his lip and glances down at his plate, picking at some sort of jello thing. Conversation leaks back into the table, but it's not quite as elated.

About five minutes later, Peter's picking at one of the rolls when his spider sense blares abruptly and a person slams their hands down on the table and all of them jump, looking up.

Color drains from his face slightly as he sees who it is.

Peter has been a little preoccupied to really think much about Norman Osborn's offer last month, and Tony never told him if there was something that he needed to be aware of when (or if) Clint did the scoping.

Mr. Osborn's hands are shaking despite their position on the table, and his eyes are deeply shadowed with a slight crazed look present in the iris. HIs clothing that Peter has never seen looking anything but picture perfect looks like he went running through the woods.

"Mr. Parker," his voice is stretched, pitched and strangely...giggly. Giggly? It is though. Giggles. Peter unconsciously shifts closer to Natasha.

"Can we help you, Mr. Osborn?" Tony questions, his expression is masked and his discomfort reminds Peter strongly of his own.

Mr. Osborn tilts his head and looks back at Tony breathing heavily, "No, I thinkkkk…" he strains, his word slurring, "not."

He turns back to Peter and shudders, "You refused my offer. My gracious offer." Anger. Hate. Disgust.

"I—I…" Peter stutters, "It wasn't...I was busy."

He forgot.

He didn't care?

Mr. Osborn frightened him?

"Yes." Mr. Osborn agrees thickly, "Very busy. Busy, busy, busy. Where would we all be if we weren't busy?"

"Norman," Tony says carefully, he's on his feet though Peter can't recall him standing, "this can wait. You're not welcome here."

"Welcome?" Mr. Osborn snarls, "I've waited long enough. This is his fault that it happened—he was supposed to fix it. That's why I searched and searched, he would take it and I wouldn't and he would die and I wouldn't." He dives forward and grabs Peter's wrist, shaking his arm rapidly as he repeats the word dragging Peter to his feet: "Wouldn't, wouldn't, wouldn't."

Peter's heart is pounding in his chest and he attempts to squirm from the grip, but it's iron. Something is wrong with the man and Peter doesn't know what it is. He looks almost drunk, but excessively paranoid and angered—no, he's smiling. Smiling?

"Norman," Steve's voice is calm, but even, and Peter chances a look towards the table. Everyone is on their feet and Peter can see Clint, Natasha and Bucky's hands going towards where they keep their guns on their person. "Let go of Peter."

Mr. Osborn's smile stretches, "I think not. After all, he can take it, can't he? He's," Mr. Osborn leans forward a little as if sharing a great secret and his lips stretch further, "Spider-Man."

Peter stills, his spin rearing with horror.

No, no, no, no, no.

May.

Is May alright?

He can't know that!

Mr. Osborn drags Peter backwards and he is suddenly bizarrely confused on where all the employees are—or the other civilians until he remembers that the restaurant is empty save them (and the employees), and there's the faint smell, but thickly sweet smell of chloroform now that he's focused on it.

Mr. Osborn tugs out a vial from one of his suits pockets that's thick with red and Peter makes an exclamation squirming backwards as the needle touches his skin.

It doesn't break it.

Three bullets fly past Mr. Osborn and Peter missing wildly, but the vial is ripped from Mr. Osborn's hands and sails over their heads, landing in Loki's outstretched fingers. It's a surprising, but sudden reminder that Loki is a wielder of magic.

And that means more than shapeshifting.

Loki shoves the vial into Thor's hands and lightning cackles down the older Asgardian's fingers before the vial explodes and the remains of the heated liquid are caught by Loki's sorcery before they can come into contact with Thor's skin and he vanishes it.

Peter breathes heavily, sharply widely swinging his gaze up to meet Tony's.

Mr. Osborn's grip loosens a infinitesimal amount before he growls lowly in his throat, "Fine. I'll just find a different way. Different way, different home, different death. Like you. Dead, dead, dead!" Mr. Osborn throws Peter towards the table and he stumbles nearly landing flat on his face, but Tony's hands catch his upper arms and keep him grounded.

Mr. Osborn laughs and chucks something across the room before slipping outside. It lands with a clatter at their feet.

His spider sense blares in a way that he's felt very few times in his life.

"GRENADE!"

"GET DOWN!"

Tony's arms wrap around Peter desperately, tucking him into his chest and Peter buries himself into the embrace, horror grasping around his throat and refusing to let him breathe. They're going to die, they're going to die, they're going to die.

Dead, dead, dead.

The bomb goes off and though Peter feels the vibration against his feet and through his body, it's not as sharp, burning or painful as it should be. The noise is deafening and induces another round of panic to shudder through him. Tony's hold around his shoulders and against the back of his head is taut and when the blast passes, it doesn't ease.

Peter squirms out of the death grip, panting heavily through his teeth and sees that Tony's nose is bleeding and that a greenish glow is surrounding them. The injuries are nothing like they should be for being this close to a blast radius. The building around them is in flames and charred with a hole blasted through the ceiling.

But they should be dead.

All of them.

Broken glass is scattered around him and seems to be where most of the blood on everyone else came from. They dived for cover, but it didn't seem to help much. Natasha is beneath Clint's embrace and Steve, Bucky, and Sam dove for the table.

Thor and Loki, however, are standing closest to the flames, Loki's hands lifted up in an arch. Green light is pouring from his fingers to the dome before it flickers and the dome dies. The smoke is immediately stifling, but Loki lifts his hand and twists his fingers, gathering the inferno from off the ground and clenching his fist causing it to sputter and die. He lifts up his palm and blows, and ice splatters across the ground, crawling towards the places that were burning catching any remaining embers in the cold.

Loki turns back towards them, his expression cold. He scans them all before glancing at Thor and murmuring something in their native tongue. Thor answers shortly with a nod and Loki's eyes harden.

"Remain here, my brother and I have hunting to do." Loki's tone is dangerous.

"I—I don't know if—" Steve starts to say, scrambling from his position and winching, lifting a hand to his side that draws back red. Bucky grabs his shoulder a second later.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut and tries to bury panic. It's different being on this side of the explosions and injuries, when he's the helpless civilian. Not the hero. Why wont his hands stop shaking!? Tony runs his fingers through his hair.

"Breathe," he instructs quietly.

Peter inhales, them comes to the realization that he wasn't.

"Come Loki," Thor says and Peter hears the shing of weapons being drawn before he looks towards the Asgardians as Loki hands Thor a sword. Where it came from is beyond him. Both glance at them once more before Loki lifts his hand and snaps his fingers, the two of them being dragged upwards in a bluish light before vanishing completely.

000o000

The battle is rapid, but messy.

Peter and the Avengers spend a majority of it outside the restaurant, nursing bleeding wounds and only catch the last minute or so. Lightning is wielded from the sky and it's a harsh, but firm reminder as to why the norse-men thought Asgardians were beings of higher power.

During the last brief lapse of the battle, Mr. Osborn attempts to run down their street before the asphalt ripples to ice beneath his toes and he lands flat on his back with a loud exclamation. Lightning ripples through the air and thunder follows before Thor slams to the ground, electricity pulsing across his limbs.

Loki is a second behind and gathers material from the explosion, bending metal and wraps it around Mr. Osborn's chest for restraints before he and Thor speak cursory in their native tongue once more.

Mr. Osborn slumps with defeat, and the pedestrians watching gawk openly.

This lasts for about six minutes until S.H.I.E.L.D. arrives and waves them off.

Director Coulson speaks with the two princes briefly before shoving someone to pick up Mr. Osborn and walks up to them.

"Anything lethal?" He questions glancing at their various states. Tony's fingers clench from where they've been running in Peter's hair for nearly fifteen minutes now. Peter is fine, Tony made sure of that.

"No," Steve assures.

Director Coulson nods and glances back at the Asgardians, then back to Steve and Tony and sighs. "You really need to stop collecting people."

Tony and Steve sputter, but neither denies it.

000o000

Peter sort of thought that that was that. The Avengers would go back to the tower and Peter would go home and life would resume as it was.

Loki and Thor's presence becomes public and beyond the media explosion and attempts to take photos, no one gets anything beyond blurs.

Still, though, a little different, but basically the same.

Not the case.

Two weeks later, they're battling some dude whose pretty determined to send everyone back to the dark ages, by raising New York City to the ground. Why is that everyone's solution for everything? Although New York is pretty done with super villains trying to kill them, Peter supposes is convenient because he really only can look out for New York and occasionally New Jersey—on a freelance basis.

The man—who is wearing an ugly hat that looks like deer horns that were shoved through a window and they've been calling him Deer-Man for the better part of the battle—is putting up a pretty good fight. Even with Loki and Thor's assistance, which as made the containment process incredibly easier, he's still raging on and ranting about how awful humanity is.

But still. Deer-Man has an EMP gun that he shoots widely, taking out buildings, cars, street lamps, and pretty much anything that has electricity which is annoying because it makes a loud screeching noise as it does so making it sound like an opera singer with a bad cold. Along with his...unique personality, he has small army of robots welding the same gun, it's a loud and frankly aggravating fight.

"So done!" Peter exclaims, swinging towards a building and firing a web towards one of the robots and smashing it into another. "I am so done with their singing! Didn't they know that the opera performance is not for the faint of heart!? I am faintly in my heart! They can't even sing! Besides didn't they know that the performance was supposed to be at nine-thirty? They missed it!"

"Probably why they're so angry." Bucky supplies and Peter hears a grunt over the comm before there's the swishing sound of Loki's sorcery slamming into something.

"Should we give them a chance to perform then?" Loki inquires dully, "See if that would appease the community temper-tantrum?"

Peter snorts.

Thor laughs, "I think not, brother; I have my doubts it would be helpful."

"Yeah, me too." Tony agrees, diving past where Peter is perched to fire a missile. "Have you contained Deer-Man yet, Widow?"

"No," Natasha grits, "he won't stop waving his gun around and shooting. Professionals are predictable, I'd wager he hasn't held a gun since this morning."

Well.

That's nice.

Peter leaps from off the building to land on a robot and rip it's gun from it's hands and fires towards another, "Do you think that he realizes that he's using technology to stop technology?" Peter asks curiously, swinging off of the robot so it can run into another.

"Huh." Sam says after a second, "Yeah, I hadn't even thought about it, so I'm guessing no."

Loki blows out a breath. "Cretin."

Peter hums with agreement and hears Hulk roar loudly in the distance. He focuses as well as he can on destroying the robots before he hears Natasha let out a victorious grunt. "Got him, Deer-Man is contained."

"Hallelujah." Tony grumbles, "Tell him to turn off his singers, would you?"

Peter huffs, "Yes, I cannot even hear myself thi—what the heck? Bright light, brilliant—that's bright!" Peter scrambles backwards on the building with surprise as the rainbow cascade of colors slams into the middle of the street for a few seconds, covering his eyes until it passes.

A few men stand where the light vanished to and it takes Peter a second until he realizes what it was.

The Bifrost.

Asgard.

"Thor." Loki says urgently.

"I see it." Thor promises, his voice is thick with disbelief.

"We can handle this." Steve assures, "Go."

000o000

Peter remains in the general vicinity of the Bifrost, watching. The Asgardians appear to universally shrug before throwing themselves into the fray, but stay painfully close to the burned runes.

It's about five minutes before Peter spots Loki and Thor quickly working their way through the battle. He crawls along the wall before flipping towards the ground to give them cover and quietly pleads with Natasha to hurry up about Deer-Man.

The two siblings come to a halt in front of an older man with a staff in hand and Loki tumbles to his knees, hand over his heart and head bowed urgently. "Father, please forgive me."

Thor follows suit, but remains quiet.

Father.

Odin?

That's King Odin?

Peter's seen a picture from Tony's HUD, but he looks...Peter doesn't know, smaller in person? Less intimidating? That might also be because of the fact that they don't have an evil elf bent on destroying light's butt to kick.

Odin collapses to his knees in front of them and releases his staff-thing to the ground gathering both of them into his arms and clutching like the moment he releases they'll vanish.

And he doesn't look like he's letting go any time soon.

000o000

Deer-Man finally stops the demon-robots and Peter breathes a collective sigh of relief with the rest of the Avengers when he does so. The silence is welcomed. It's like chocolate, but...air...chocolate.

Loki and Thor approach them after Coulson's left to direct clean-up, both looking considerably lighter and happy. Odin is trailing behind, watching with a wide eye of disbelief and relief that Peter doesn't think he'll ever understand until he's a parent.

"We are returning to Asgard." Thor says quietly, "We will still visit when we can, but our father wants us to return with him."

Peter's stomach sinks slightly.

Oh.

The Avengers share a collective glance. "Alright." Steve agrees tentatively.

"What about Thanos?" Tony questions after a second.

Odin snorts heavily and shakes his head, "That fool who thought himself important has been dealt with."

"Define "dealt"." Clint requests.

Odin's lip quivers up into a satisfied smile, "He took my children, I took his life. I am not a forgiving man and anyone who dares to touch my sons shall feel my wrath descend upon them. We received word of Thor and Loki's possible location and I hastened to it, but when I arrived my sons' had escaped and left Thanos's plan in tatters. He had no idea where they had gone to and sent his children to scour the galaxy. When I learned of my sons' presence here…" Odin grips Loki's shoulder tightly for a second, "I am a blessed man to have finally found my children."

Tony's hand lands on Peter's shoulder, "Yeah, I think I can understand that."

Odin turns to Peter and dips his head in respect, "You have my thanks for your part in their survival. I am forever indebted to you. Call for my assistance and I will send a legion of Einherjar to your aid with haste."

Ein-what?

Um. Confused is to small of a word and—okay, wait. Forever-forever? That's a long time and all Peter really did was kidnap—oh, man, yeah, not going down that particular road of memory lane.

Peter nods slightly, "Thank you."

Odin returns the gesture then rests his hands on his sons' shoulders, "Come, my children, Asgard awaits."

"Thank you, Avengers," Loki says then moves to give Peter a fleeting hug.

Thor happily echoes his siblings gesture then lifts up his hand, "Highest of fives?"

Peter rolls his eyes and slaps it accordingly, "High-five, Thor."

Thor grins knowingly as he fist pumps Tony, "I know."

The Asgardians turn towards the Bifrost site and Odin tips his head towards the sky, "Heimdall—open the Bifrost!" and all vanish in a blur of hope-laced light.

Author's Note: Thank you all for your patience with me as I've worked on this story, I am so grateful for your support.

Really, I can't really explain how much it has meant to me.

=) You're phenomenal, my stars, and don't you dare forget that!