Tony was comparing Ben and Jerry's flavors for movie night when he got Ned's panicked call.

"Ned, what did I tell you? This line is for emergencies only." He sighed, still looking over the selection in the freezer case. "And no, MJ eating the last Dorito doesn't qualify as one despite what Peter thinks."

He heard a shuffling and heavy breathing on the other end. It piqued his interest a little. What had they gotten into? Friday hadn't sent any alerts. There was nothing on the radar. Things had been quiet. Which could only mean they were screwing off.

"I don't know what you're doing, but so help me if you guys break anything," Tony warned lightly, going back to looking over the flavors. "It's good you called though, there is no mint chip. Does Peter have a second choice?"

"Please, this is serious, Mr. Stark. I need you to listen."

He heard shuffling again. "Are you crawling?"

"Could you just, like, stop talking for a minute so I can explain?"

He froze. Ned was a lot of things, but assertive wasn't one of them.

"Okay, you got my attention," Tony said, walking toward the exit of the store, ice cream forgotten, fingers already on the button to engage his suit. He'd been gone less than ten minutes. It didn't seem possible they found trouble in that short of time, but it was Peter and crew, which in that case, anything was possible. "Go on. Explain."

"It's MJ. She went to the kitchen and didn't come back," Ned whispered nervously.

Tony's brow wrinkled in confusion, not quite grasping the issue.

"Are you sure she just didn't decide to take a bathroom break and not tell you? I don't want to be the one to fill you guys in and all, but there are a lot of reasons a girl might take a few extra minutes. Didn't you have the 'your bodies are changing' speech in health class yet?"

"Oh my God, Mr. Stark!" Ned whispered. "This isn't like that! She went to get some sodas, and then a second later, Peter's spidey senses started going all crazy." There was more shuffling. "He went in after her and told me to hide, so that's why I'm trying to get under the coffee table and call you for help."

"What? Why didn't you just say that?"

"I was trying!"

With a tap of his fingers, the suit enclosed around him, his heart hammering in his chest. Why hadn't Friday alerted him?

"I'm heading there now. Friday's Babysitter Protocol should keep you safe until I get there."

"What about Peter?" Ned said shakily.

The compound felt like it was lightyears away even though he knew it was only seconds out. "I'm almost there. He'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, now hide. I'm on my way," he said, ending the call, the faint light of the compound already coming into view. "Friday, who are our unexpected guests, and how'd they get in?"

"Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton and Sam Wilson, sir. You restored their clearance last week and sent an invite. It appears they have arrived earlier than expected."

"Alright, I'm touching down now. Keep an eye on things until I—"

Friday interrupted him before he could finish. "Boss, there appears to be an escalating hostage situation occurring in the kitchen," his AI spoke.

"Of course, there is. Peter's there." He landed, his suit disappearing around him. He jogged to the back entrance, taking in the scene around him.

Everyone froze when he stepped inside.

His gaze fell on Natasha first. She had Michelle in her grasp, arm twisted behind her back. It should have been painful, but if it was, she wasn't showing it. She looked more annoyed than anything.

He let out a breath when he saw Peter. He was in pajamas with his hands pinned behind his back by Sam, his hair disheveled, looking incredibly displeased. He knew Peter was more than capable of pulling free. He was playing nice, which Tony was grateful for.

"So, okay," he said, clasping his hands together. "I see everyone has met, but maybe some formal introductions are in order, but first, Sam, Nat, it's time to let the kiddos go."

Nobody moved though. They all just exchanged glances, and MJ sighed, looking bored.

Steve stepped forward. "Why are there children at the compound?"

Peter picked his head up. "Umm, because it's movie night? We were gonna watch that old movie Alien, the one where that thing tears through that chick's stomach and it's all gross and slimy—"

"Whoa, what?" Clint said, seeming to have found his voice, cutting Peter off. "What the fuck, Stark? You have kids?"

"I don't have kids, Barton." Tony narrowing his gaze at him. "They don't even look like me. Why would you think I had kids? And second, why haven't you let them go yet?" He looked to Natasha. "Did I fall into some alternate reality where I don't own this complex and don't make the rules?"

"Mr. Stark," Peter said. "As cool as this is. I thought they were like, you know, criminals? Why are they here?"

"Well, about that," Tony sighed. "Remember all the meetings I've been dragged to lately? You know, like the one last week I had to leave early because you got shot."

"When are you going to stop bringing that up? I had it handled," Peter whined.

Tony's brows shot up. "Seriously? Handled. You were digging the bullet out with a nail file when I got there. You were bleeding out. It's stupid stunts like that will get you killed."

"That's badass," Clint said. "Like really inappropriate, since you're like what, twelve, but still pretty damn badass."

"Don't encourage him," Tony said.

"Is anyone else uncomfortable that he was shot last week," Sam said, still holding the kid's hands.

"I've added it to the list of things to question Stark about later," Natasha said.

Peter dropped his head. "This is so embarrassing."

"Tough," Tony said. "Anyway, as I was saying, to make a long story short. The Accords got dissolved, and these trigger-happy morons here were pardoned. Which leads us here." Tony gestured to the room. "And as much as I'd like to tie up these kids to keep them out of trouble, they're not mine, and I'm pretty sure it's a crime, so if you'd let them go, that'd be great. As the kid said, it's movie night, and Sigourney Weaver waits for no one."

Natasha and Sam exchanged a look and then released the teens.

"Just for the record," Michelle said flatly. "We had this under control."

"MJ, really?" Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. It was bad enough dealing with Peter's terrible lack of self-preservation instincts. He didn't need two rebellious teens.

"Stark, again, what is going on, and who is he?" Steve said, staring at Peter. "Who are they?"

"His name's Peter, and he's none of your business," Tony said sharply. "That's Michelle, aka MJ." He gestured to her as she dug through the fridge. "She's also none of your business."

"So, are we all okay then?" Peter asked, looking around the room.

"I'm good," Michelle said coolly, popping open a can of soda and taking a sip.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter half-whispered. "I did okay, right? I mean, you're not mad? I figured you'd be back soon and I didn't wanna mess up, so I tried to just stall and not hurt anyone—"

"Peter," he said. "Seriously, chill. It's fine, kid. Go with MJ and get the movie ready. You did good. I'll be right there. As far as I see it, anytime we don't need to mop up blood, it's a win. Oh, and by the way, I think Ned might be stuck under the coffee table. Just a heads up."

"Why's he—" Peter went to ask, but MJ had him by the arm.

"Come on, dork," she said dryly. "You get Ned. I'll get the remote."