Author's Note: Privet! =)

Loki and Peter's friendship is something that I've wanted to explore for a bit, 'cause I think it's cute (also, Pintrest is exploding with fanart), so here we are. For your information, this is an alternate universe from the first Avengers, 'cause that was what drove my muse so...yup. I think that, given opportunity, Loki would be a good older brother for Peter so whalla, this was born. You guys are so amazing! I hope that you remember that today! Hugs! =)

Rated for: Violence, bullying, some gore, and implied depressive thoughts. (No slash, no smut, nothing inappropriate language is all K)

Summary: Loki and Peter become unlikely friends. Disaster follows.

Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Just a person note, if you could refrain from using cussing/strong language if you comment (no offense to how you speak! Promise! =) It just makes me uncomfortable) I would greatly appreciate that. ;)

For your information, this is cross-posted on Archive of Our Own under the penname of "GalaxyThreads".

If Lost, Please Return To Peter

Peter is pretty terrible at making friends.

Okay, understatement: Peter and making friends crosses over that line of "beyond horrible" that hits that stage where other people are embarrassed for him. It's wondrous. Honestly, he doesn't even know how to approach people; Ned accidentally dumped his jug of water on Peter's painting when they were in second grade and, feeling guilty, Ned had followed him around apologizing (though Peter had long forgiven him) and it sort of moved on beyond that to actual friendship. Michelle just started showing up wherever he and Ned were towards the beginning of the school year and acted like it was a coincidence.

Neither Ned nor Peter had minded and after homecoming, she began to actually interact with them so there's that. But it wasn't Peter who actually reached out to both of them, they just happened to collide courses with him. Coincidence, he supposes, or otherwise unbelievably lucky. Which is strange because, being a Parker, he is naturally gifted with bad luck. It's a curse.

Spider-Man, on the other hand, has better luck. For some reason when he puts on the mask he can suddenly talk to people instead of cowering on the inside and hoping that his anti-socialness won't actually rip apart his internal body parts at that moment. Spider-Man can make stupid quips (arguably usually cringe-worthy), help old ladies cross the street without feeling awkward, and get random strangers to pour out their life stories just by talking to him.

Peter feels different with the mask on, he always has, that's why he kept going. Yeah, it's hard, harder than he ever thought possible, but he enjoys helping people. He loves it. No matter how much grounding he receives by missing curfew because he had to save that one other person or how little sleep he gets on some nights, it's worth it. He repeats it as a mantra on the hard days, but believes it wholly on the good ones.

Peter lets out a long yawn (for the third time in the last twenty minutes, admittedly) and shoots out another web before pulling himself on the side of a building. He's a little further out than Queens, venturing out on a gut feeling tonight and managed to stop quite a few more crimes. A few attempted muggings, two kidnappings, a bank robbery, and walked a girl home who was looking unbelievably paranoid and nervous as she clutched the grocery bag against her chest.

All in all: a success. Peter usually doesn't get this much done in one night so, yeah, he is proud to proclaim how much he accomplished. It's still a school night, though, and judging by his internal clock he should probably start heading back if he wants to make it home by curfew. Aunt May will have his head if he doesn't (second time this week) and he doesn't want to be grounded for another week. She'd taken the whole "vigilante" thing a lot better than he originally expected. He was honestly prepared for her scream her head off and then burn the Spider-Man suit then toss him into the streets for lying to her. There was definitely yelling and a lot of tears and May called Mr. Stark to scream at him, but after a few hours she calmed down, breathed, and then they talked about what happened, why he's doing it and she agreed to let him keep going—even encouraging him to proceed onwards.

It was strange.

A welcomed strange, but still strange.

One of said agreements was that he text her when he's heading home, if he'll be late and that he report "mission logs" to Mr. Stark, who is his connection to the Avengers/handler. Mr. Stark gave him a suit and they talk now and work on it so...that's cool. They've definitely gotten a little closer, less so much distant-employee to more so of loose friendship.

"Hey Karen," Peter says to get her attention.

"Yes, Mr. Parker?" The AI responds immediately.

"Can you send a text to Aunt May and tell her I'll be home in about twenty minutes? Also, what time is it?" Peter adds the last part more so as an afterthought. Probably after midnight, at least.

"It is approximately one twenty-three in the morning and I have sent the text to your aunt. Shall I prepare the quickest route to your apartment?" Karen answers and Peter inwardly cringes. Whoops. Okay, yeah, definitely did not make curfew. That was at midnight; more than an hour ago. And in this case, it's probably not the thought that counts. He did have plans to meet it though. There's just a lot more crime in this part of the city than he was expecting.

His internal clock is terrible.

"Yeah," Peter answers to Karen's earlier question. "That would be great." A map appears on the side of his mask with a little orange line weaved between the streets to tell him what direction will be most effective. Ah, Peter loves having an AI. She's truly among one of Peter's favorite additions to the Spider-Man suit. "Thanks."

Peter shoots out another web and swings across the city, the wind blowing past his clothing. The chill is frigid, but Peter doesn't feel it. When he swings through the air he feels weightless, like a bird flying for the first time. It never gets old, it's like being free.

Peter swings through the city for a few more minutes before he comes to a pause, seeing a silhouette standing on the top of a building. In the day, Peter wouldn't really think twice about it, but it's past one thirty now and no one just sits and stands on top of buildings unless their brooding or sad—at least, from his experience. Slightly uncomfortable, Peter watches the figure for a moment from a distance.

They're just standing there near the edge, clothing rippling through the slight breeze and likely freezing to death from the chill.

Maybe he can at least see what their doing, maybe it's a crazy artist getting inspiration and Peter will just annoy them for a moment. "Karen," Peter says, his voice slightly softer, "can you text Aunt May and tell her that I'm going to be a little later, like ten maybe fifteen minutes—something came up, but I'm not injured."

"Yes, Mr. Parker, but I should warn you that tomorrow is a school day and you're nearly two hours past your curfew." Karen points out.

Yep.

And he's going to be later now.

Peter lands on top of the building after climbing the wall a few feet with a flip and he sees the figure stiffen ahead of him. They're in a long coat that billows in the wind in an unnaturally dramatic fashion, hands clenched at their sides and a hood pulled up over their head. It looks like a dress coat and a hoodie's hood and the transition is a little strange, but Peter doesn't comment.

Instead, he walks the few feet between them, until he's standing beside the man. The man's deep green eyes flicker towards him for a moment, blank but return to the stretch of the city. Peter's a few inches shorter than him, but it doesn't really bother him. Silence stretches between them for a moment before Peter turns to look at him, "Are you okay, Sir?"

A slight twitch of the eyebrows, but the expression doesn't change, his face looks familiar but Peter can't place from where. It's almost unnerving how much of a blank sheet the man's face is. He's quiet for a long minute before licking his lips and opens his mouth, clenching his jaw to the left for a second, tense, then in a low murmur he says: "Perhaps not. What does it matter to you, child?"

He has an accent, some sort of mix between British and another country Peter can't place. His words are spoken so softly that if Peter didn't have enhanced hearing he's not entirely certain he would have heard it properly. "I'm not a child." Peter immediately protests to the man's comment, "I'm Spider-Man." He emphasizes the "man" part heavily and receives a half raised eyebrow and an unimpressed stare in return.

"I know of you." The man says, slowly, "But I did not realize you were so young. I am impressed at your bravery."

Huh, yeah, well, nice attempt at changing subjects, Bucko.

"Thanks. I didn't come over here to get compliments though so...do you want to talk about it?" He looks over at the man, studying him. The pale face is still completely blank before a soft, sick smile spreads up his lips. It looks horrible off and quiet laughter escapes the man's throat.

"Believe me, it is nothing you can assist with." The man assures.

Peter pouts behind the mask stubbornly, (though he can't see it). "Yeah? Just try talking, you'll feel better, I promise."

"I have my doubts." The man says and Peter shrugs.

"Well, I believe in science and sometimes the only way to get results is to fail. So, sit." Peter points down at the edge of the building before plopping down cross legged. The man seems to battle internally before he sits down slowly beside Peter letting his hands drop onto his lap and picking idly at his left palm for a moment.

Peter's earlier assumption on a hoodie behind the dress coat is confirmed and Peter isn't exactly sure what to do with the information. On one hand it's funny the terrible fashion design, yet on the other, this man is clearly going through hard time so it wouldn't exactly help.

The man doesn't stare out at him, watching the distance as though it holds the worlds greatest secrets. "Have you ever done something you've regretted, Spider-Man, but known that no matter what you do that it won't change it?" The question is abrupt and Peter is driven into silence.

Yes. Oh, yes. Uncle Ben shouldn't have died that night. No one should have had to die. It's his fault. His.

"Yeah." Peter admits, not quite certain what this has to do with anything.

The man sighs quietly then looks over at him. "It is why you became a hero, isn't it?"

Peter almost rears backwards in surprise and the deep perceptiveness. He pauses for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts together before he gnaws at his lips for a second. "Yeah, it is." He admits. The man hums slightly, almost thoughtfully, before looking back at him. The stare is piercing this time, rather than a slight gaze and Peter gets a strange feeling that this man can actually see through him. It's weird. He doesn't like it much.

"You are a better man than I." The man says the words quietly before turning to look back at the city. Peter fidgets uncomfortably with his hands for a few minutes as they both sit in silence staring down at the city. New York never really stops being bright or has a "sleeping time", but between about one through five things are much quieter.

The silence seems to grow darker and thicker as it progresses and Peter doesn't like it. He opens his mouth a few times to speak, but the slight scowl on the man's face halts him. Finally, Peter says: "Do you have a favorite store? There's this sandwich joint a few streets over that I'm fond of."

The surprise on the man's face is startling. Like he wasn't expecting this to come up. He pauses, then, "I am new to your city, I haven't been many places."

Peter looks him over, "Really? Tourist or did you move?"

"Ah...move, I suppose." The man answers, carefully, "If you'll excuse me, Spider-Man, I have matters I must attend to, however, I thank you for your time." The man rises to his feet and Peter does as well briefly rocking on his toes.

The man turns to him, piercing green eyes exhausted and tired, but he stuffs his hands into his pockets and moves back towards the building's door to the roof. Peter pauses, then calls out: "Hey, just so you know...if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm open."

The man side glances him once more, but gives a curt nod in response.

Peter goes home that night, confused, but doesn't really give it another thought.

000o000

It's really not until the next week that he realizes what happened.

Peter was at school, running around and trying not to get severely smashed by the school system determined to kill him, when the call came in to assemble. The Avengers are full aware of his age and well none of them are happy about it, they don't pressure him into stopping simply because he's a minor. Captain America understands, he grew up in World War ll, where minors joined to help with the war, it's not to much of a different concept to him. But they really try to downplay the amount of battles they have him join in unless they really need an extra hand and S.H.I.E.L.D. can't offer assistance.

It's in the middle of a school day and though he'd much rather not, Peter asks for a bathroom pass and slips out of the window after a plea to Michelle and Ned to cover for him.

Karen quickly helps him find the location of the battle, syncing the comms, and Peter feels his jaw slip open slightly with surprise.

He's faced off more than a handful of super villains since he donned the suit and though most of them have been awe inspiring in their own way (like bad costume choice, really, sometimes the colors just don't go together and no amount of yelling is going to change that) it's nothing really like this.

Over the last two years since the battle of New York, Loki has shown up a little less than twenty times whether among fellow villains or by himself. He's not a constant criminal like Dr. Doom who attacks midtown every other Thursday with doombots (what the man hopes to accomplish by using the same strategy again and again really is beyond him. Dr. Doom is smart, alright? His tiny country (Vendira? Lend...something?) is prosperous and a well respected community, they have made great contributions to science, medical and other fields. Besides that, the man has has "doctor" attached to his name which means he either gave it to himself like Dr. Seuss, or he has some sort of Ph.D.), the Wrecking Crew who try to rob the same stream of banks per week, or any other criminal that is bent on getting the thing they want and will destroy anything in the way during the process of that. Because well Dr. Doom is smart, Loki is a strategical genius and doesn't believe in mindless destruction.

And that's a problem.

Typically the mayhem he causes is carefully constructed chaos and it takes a bit of pressing and a great deal of yelling (from what he understands, he's never had to face Loki off himself before, the Asgardian hasn't attempted an attack on New York for sixish months now; elsewhere, yes, he's been active, but here? no) to unravel without collapsing the Statue of Liberty, and a great deal of downtown in the process.

This time, Peter can't see the crazed Asgardian at the moment, but that's because he's a little more focused on the large demon piranha-things with feet running around that makes a high pitched shrieking noise and destroying everything as buildings seem to randomly burst into flame at will.

Peter swings onto the scene next to Hawkeye and immediately fires a web towards one of the banshee piranhas. "Fear not, I have arrived!" He exclaims cheerfully.

"Great, you too can smell like rotting fish for the next few weeks." Black Widow says cheerfully. There's sounds of guns in the comms for a second before Peter hears minor explosions off in the distance. Ugh, fish smell. Peter hates fish—anything to do with them. There are things that science shouldn't allow and the whole world under the sea is one of them, sorry Ariel.

A banshee-demon-fish-thing releases a loud squeal forcing Peter to slam his hands over his ears in pain before the thing leaps at him. Now, piranhas in their natural state are nothing to laugh at, but they don't exactly pack the punch of these things. The force of the feet slamming into his chest easily throws him off of balance and sends him tumbling to his back.

"Dude!" Peter exclaims, eyes wide and ducks out of the way of the large, murderous teeth, "It's like Jaws and an elephant had a baby, but it turned on the evil switch."

Over the comms, he hears Mr. Stark huff loudly with amusement and Captain America follow suit.

Peter manages to shove the piranha off and webs it to a nearby wall for it to snarl and scream at, before he adds another web to seal the mouth shut. The sounds of the banshees is making his ears ring and everything inside of him ache, and not for the first time prompts a great deal of cursing for super senses.

Hawkeye snorts beside him and swings an arrow up to meet one of the large fish before it can comp down on a running civilians leg and the fish vanishes in a pull of grayish smoke. Peter's spider sense blares in warning and he whirls as another explosive goes off in a building and glass litters the ground with broken brick and dust.

Peter coughs slightly and wipes the worst of the debris off of his costume as Hawkeye shakes bits of glass from his hair. He turns to the Avenger, who lifts up his bow for another release.

Multiple explosions stream through the comms and Cap makes a grunting noise, loud clatters following. Peter fires a web towards one of the demon fishes and it splatters against a wall allowing one of the police officers working on crowd control to escape the jaws of the mighty fish.

"Cap?" Mr. Stark asks, "You good?"

There's a moment then: "Yeah, sorry, Hulk just, ah, got excited."

Ah. Yeah. Alright. Peter and the Hulk are friends...ish. It's more like they can coexist happily and sometimes interact with each other, but Peter has long since learned of Hulk's destroy-all attitude. It can be very helpful sometimes, but for the most part it can cause more problems than are really needed.

Peter and Hawkeye are slowly drawn backwards towards in a retreat towards Thor's current position with Black Widow, and it's a little more embarrassing than he cares to admit that it's happening. They're being forced backwards because of fish.

About five minutes into the battle since Peter joined, Mr. Stark swoops over their heads and releases a stream of missiles destroying roughly ten of the fish-things that vanish in a puff of smoke. Another stream of explosions rings out through the air and Peter ducks, wincing as some of the glass digs into his skin.

Peter flicks his gaze back towards the now burning building, "I really wish that they would stop doing that."

Is it to much to ask for a map of where the bombs are, and then deal with it first?

Hawkeye snorts, "You and me both kid."

"Does anyone have eyes on Loki yet?" Cap asks, grunting a second later and Peter hears the screech of the demon piranha over the comms and barely resists the urge to rip his mask off and throw it. It is so loud. His eardrums are going to explode out and it will be messy and painful.

"Not since he released the kraken." Mr. Stark assures. "That was what? Fifteen minutes ago?"

"Twenty." Thor supplies.

Great. They have a bunch of fish running around, buildings that explode at will and a missing supervillain. Cap sighs audibly and there's the distinct shing of his shield rippling through the air, "Iron Man, can you do any scoping?"

"Bit busy." Mr. Stark grinds out.

Metal slams against something else and Peter flicks his gaze up as he sees lightning being drawn from the sky.

A building explodes in the distance.

One of the piranhas screeches and Peter does slam his hands against his ears. Hawkeye looks mildly uncomfortable, but nothing like the staggering pain that Peter is currently dealing with. He attempts to bury the pain, but the volume is going to drive him mad.

"Thor?" Cap questions.

"Not at the moment, Captain." Thor grits. Natasha's bullets fire a second later.

"I can do recon," Peter offers, shaking his head slightly to get the ringing to stop. It would be higher up so ergo: further from the piranhas. Note to self: anything that promises loud noise he's going to avoid for a while.

"Alright," Cap agrees after a second, he sounds strained, "do not engage if you find him." Because he's going to willingly leap at one of the people on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top ten most wanted list. Yup.

Peter fires a web towards a nearby building and glances at Hawkeye, "Do you need a lift?"

Hawkeye glances at him and shrugs, firing an arrow without looking at the target, "Nope, go get 'em, kid."

"It's Spider-Man," Peter reminds in exasperation, but he's smiling under the mask, "geeze, I guess your old age is catching up with you birdie." He tugs on the web and takes leaps into the air, firing another on a building on his left, swinging in that direction over the heads of the demon fishes. There are many of the fishes. How much time did this take to find this many fishes? Does Loki go fishing as a side-hobby...you know, when he isn't plotting the demise of the Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D., and all that?

Hawkeye makes a scoffing noise.

Peter grins and lands on the edge of the building, scanning for the horn-wearing Asgardian. Nothing pops out. Peter has really only read S.H.I.E.L.D. reports on the Asgardian and heard few recounts of the battles from the Avengers themselves, but from what he understands Loki does one of two things when he's fighting: when he's with other villains, he's a gloating mass of ego, throwing out quips and words to put any man to shame along with violent and extremely flashy with his magic. By himself, he tends to do this: vanish without a trace and quietly take out the Avengers one-on-one until something stops him (usually S.H.I.E.L.D. showing up or a goodly aimed weapon).

Peter flips off his comm—he can still hear the others, but he needs to talk to Karen and he doesn't exactly want the Avengers to be distracted by his prattling. "Karen, are you getting anything?" Peter questions, crawling along the wall to get a better vantage point. The Avengers are talking in the background, but Peter isn't really paying attention to it.

"No, Mr. Parker." Karen says.

Peter frowns and moves towards the edge of the roof, flipping onto it in a backflip and stares harder. Where could he be? It's not exactly like his fish are being stealthy. And unscented. New York is going to smell like fish for weeks after this.

Wait—there's something on that roof over there, is it just some sort of box or a—?

His spider sense blares in warning suddenly and Peter dives out of the way with surprise, whirling around to see a blade barely miss between his shoulder blades, sailing over the edge of the roof. Loki is standing behind him, staff in one hand, dagger in the other. Yeah, okay, ah, he's much taller in person.

He doesn't have Thor's bulk, but his wiry frame is covered in thick armor and the helmet that probably doesn't help with balance, but makes him a good two feet taller. Peter makes a noise in the back of his throat before Loki leaps at him.

"Guys!" Peter cries out, diving out of the way of the blade and jumping to the left to escape the following swing with the staff. "I found Loki! Seriously! Assistance!?"

Peter fires a web towards him, but Loki vanishes it with one hand.

Comms are off, Peter remembers abruptly and mentally kicks himself. Idiot.

The battle is brief, barely a minute before Loki has him pinned to the ground with a foot on his chest and brings the staff up to bash his skull in, but stops. Peter's hands, shoving at the foot, don't stop squirming, but he flicks his gaze up to Loki's head with surprise. Loki's face beneath the helmet is gaunt and pale. His eyes are shadowed heavily and his green eyes are clouded with something like desperation and brimmed wet.

But he's familiar. It takes him a second, but he stills when he realizes from where. This was the man on the edge of the building a week ago, with the weird sense of fashion and the strained voice.

Loki staggers backwards, the pressure on his chest releasing as he does so. "You're Spider-Man." He says dully. His voice is the same, the thick-British-but-not, but Peter sits up halfway on his elbow, staring at Loki with wide eyes.

For some reason, Peter had sort of just assumed that villains didn't really do anything but plot all day and decorate their evil lairs. He'd never expected to run into one on the street.

It's at that moment, in the awkward stare off that Mr. Stark arrives and slams bodily into Loki and the battle commences from there.

Five minutes later, Loki has vanished with his fish army and the buildings have stopped exploding at random.

000o000

Peter had sort of expected that to be the end of it. He went home that day, startled, but managed to pass his Spanish quiz, finish his homework and even managed to make it to the decathlon practice. Within the next few days, S.H.I.E.L.D. manages to clean up a majority of Loki's mess (no causalities, just injuries this time) and downtown is opened to the public again. (Peter has spent the last few days helping where he can, but it feels like he's being watched the entire time and it's unnerving).

It was May's birthday the next day and Peter is beyond determined to do something nice for her. Before Ben's death, they would buy a cake and go see a movie then return home to open gifts. They've never been extremely rich, but with Ben and May working they had enough for small pleasures like that. Since then, they've managed, but even with May working two jobs it's still a struggle.

Still. He's put in a resume with the Daily Bugle for photography (something that he's always enjoyed) and hopes that he'll be able to go somewhere with that, but recently he's been taking odd jobs from neighbors when he can so he can have a large variety of options for when the time comes.

The only thing he can really think of that she would want not need is flowers. May always wanted a garden, but since they don't enough money to live anywhere but an apartment she's never gotten her wish. Ben used to bring her flowers as often as he could.

The flower-shop he's thinking of is in downtown Manhattan so after school rather than patrol, he takes a taxi to the store and starts to pick flowers out. It's sort of like a build-your-own bouquet thing and Peter wants to get his aunt as much of a variety as he can.

It's during this that a presence smoothly steps into place beside him. Peter flicks his gaze up with mild irritation because the entire store is empty save himself and the shop owners and there is a whole different wall the person can look at, but stops with surprise.

"Do you think your lady would like this?" Loki questions, lifting up some sort of flower he's fairly certain isn't from Earth. It's blue with speckled jewels and the petals look like they were sneezed on by a glitter fairy.

Peter nearly drops his gathering of flowers and his feet tense in a run.

Loki's hair is pulled back with a ponytail and he's wearing a white polo with a green scarf wrapped around his neck. The boots are laced to his knees, but the black belstaff coat wrapped around his frame seems to make him appear bigger than he probably is. He still looks exhausted and dead on his feet, but there's a slight snake-like feeling wrapped around him.

The flower is outstretched to him with one hand, the other clasping a golden cane.

Peter stares at him, momentarily speechless then takes the flower hesitantly. He's not certain if it would be worse to refuse it.

Loki's expression splits into a faint smile.

"It's for my aunt," Peter explains hesitantly, "not my girlfriend." Because if that was the case, it would probably be Michelle and—wow, okay, stopping that train of thought because that it weird—but not unwelcome.

"Yes, of course, my mistake," Loki says and Peter starts to move away from him, but feels his spine freeze with the following words: "Little spider."

Spider.

Spider-Man.

Peter whirls, eyes wide and horror wrapping around his throat, excuses threaten to bubble out, but he forces himself to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He needs to leave.

And get as far away from here as possible.

How does he know!?

May.

Is May alright?

Peter moves towards the counter and slams the cash he has in hand onto it. The shopkeeper, a woman by the name of Agatha raises an eyebrow, "Is this enough?" Peter questions desperately.

Agatha nods, "Yeah, more than—"

"Keep the change." Peter exclaims and gathers the bundle in his hands before quickly exiting the store. He makes it down the street before Loki appears to materialize beside him. Peter curses under his breath and stops, turning to look at him. "What do you want? Did you do something to May?"

Loki's eyebrows lift slightly. "No, your aunt is quite unharmed."

Right.

Peter's jaw clenches, but strangely, rather than the terror he felt a few days ago when Loki easily beat him in battle, all he feels is great irritation. "How do you know?"

Loki smiles knowingly, "Ah, well, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security is not nearly as impressive as they flaunt it to be."

Peter stares at him for a second, "...I thought that Asgardians couldn't operate a toaster."

Loki lifts an eyebrow and rolls his eyes with annoyance, "You have clearly not spent much time around Thor, then. Culture difference, little spider, not idiocy. I promise that we are capable of reading instruction manuals."

Oh.

Right.

Alright, yeah, if Loki can hack into S.H.I.E.L.D. with a Computers for Dummies book, then there isn't anything impressive about it. But that's weird because Mr. Stark was put in charge of that and his tech is nearly unhackable, Black Widow, who Peter has recently learned is one of the best hackers S.H.I.E.L.D. has, struggled with getting past the firewalls before giving up.

Peter. Focus. Villain, remember?

"I don't really care," Peter says sharply, "what do you want? You went to all the work to learn my identity so what?"

Loki fidgets slightly, looking strangely uncomfortable, "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"On the roof," Loki explains, the words sound as though their being pulled from his tongue, "you talked to me. Why? You must have known who I was."

"No, I didn't." Peter says sharply. If he had would have bothered with speaking to him, or would he have engaged in battle instead? Does it matter? Peter shakes his head to clear the thoughts.

"Oh." Loki says quietly and he looks strangely young for a second. Peter knows that Thor is in his early twenties (under twenty-five, but over twenty-two, somewhere in that zone), it had never really occurred to him until now that since Loki is younger than Thor, ergo, he too is in his early twenties.

Peter bites at his tongue and takes several steps away from Loki. If he can manage to get home without Loki killing him or stabbing him that would be great. He needs to tell the Avengers about the leak in his identity—which probably means they'll have to tell S.H.I.E.L.D. so May can get the protection that she needs and—ugh.

He slips into the cap and leaves Loki on the street.

It takes him until that night after giving May her flowers (of which she adored Loki's) that he realizes that the Avengers never put his identity into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database and he would have had to have gotten somewhere else.

It's then that he also remembers the distinct feeling of someone following him the last few days.

Peter buries his head into his pillow and lets out a long groan.

000o000

He doesn't tell the Avengers, to save himself the hassle of dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D.; until Loki actually does something to warrant a threat against his identity, he doesn't see a need to say anything. (No, he just doesn't want to explain about the roof, because he doesn't understand what happened).

Five days after that, Peter's walking home from school with Ned and Michelle when his spider sense hums again. It's not the immediate danger hum, but the be wary and watchful something is staring hum that it sometimes does. He's long sense labeled it as the thing that spiders do when they know that you're watching them. They freeze in place and move slower as you track them with a shoe before booking it.

Peter carefully slips away from his friends and tracks down the nearest Starbucks. He's not really a fan of coffee, and has never really understood people's urges to drink it every day, but the occasional cup he does enjoy. He pays for the glasses with the last of the leftover money from the flowers, then glances around until he spots the now familiar black-haired Asgardian sitting outside.

Over the last few days, he's managed to calm down from the hissing panic and stopped to think about the roof, then the following incidents. Loki stopped attacking him when he recognized who he was because he didn't want to. He was surprised at his identity. Peter's pretty sure that if he'd known from the start, he would have ignored him all together.

Spider-Man was friendly to him, and because of that Loki was so startled when he realized that who he was attacking, he stopped.

Peter's terrible at making friends, but he imagines that being publicly disowned from your home world, hated by pretty much all the others and a public enemy makes that task even harder.

Peter slips back into the open and takes the seat opposite of Loki and slides the other glass towards him. "Figured I'd make this a little less awkward." Peter explains when Loki looks up at him startled.

Peter takes a sip from his mug cheerfully happy with the sweetness of it and Loki stares at him with distrustful green eyes. "It's not poisoned," Peter assures, "and I didn't spit in it."

Loki looks vaguely amused and grasps the drink with both hands. "Did someone else?"

Peter shrugs, "Maybe, you never know what they're doing to your food back there. I mean, really, have you seen how quickly they flip those burgers? They shouldn't be pink on the inside. Do you think you can sue if it hospitalizes you?"

Loki shrugs, "I know not, I am not familiar enough with your world's government."

Yeah, probably not, seeming how he tried to conquer the world from New York City, which, hey, it's a beloved city in all, but he isn't going to get much done except anger Americans. Americans. Not the U.N., MI6, or any other government organization.

Peter nods, "Yeah, well I'm pretty sure you could sue."

"I'll keep that in mind," Loki takes a sip of the drink and when he doesn't grimace, Peter feels mildly successful; he has no idea what type of coffee Loki would like and mostly guessed. Apparently he wasn't to far off.

Peter rests his glass on the table, "On a more serious note, can I ask why you've been stalking me?"

Loki's face is impassive, but Peter's pretty sure that he caught a brief flicker of embarrassment in the Asgardians eyes. "Mmm. Not stalking, Spider, watching."

"That's different? Buddy, find a dictionary."

Loki's eyes flick up with exasperation, "It's merely for my next...ah, scheme."

Okay.

Great.

Now he's concerned.

"What, demon-fish-thingys weren't enough for you? Don't be mean, you'll hurt their feelings." Good heavens Peter, do you ever shut up? He is so bad at his. Making friends. Why can't he just talk to everyone he meets as Spider-Man. He is so glad that his interactions with the Avengers are mostly in his suit (save Mr. Stark) because he would be an awkward bubbling mass if not so. He is terrible at making friends.

But Loki isn't his friend.

And he's not trying to make Loki his friend either.

So what is he doing?

"Quite the contrary; are you aware that most people can't stand the smell of rotting fish and ocean water? I have cleared entire streets of any save those who are truly desperate." Loki says cheerfully, "And it was quite amusing to watch fish walk."

Point.

Peter's shaking his head though, and it takes him a second to catch it and stop himself. Loki's eyes narrow. "What?" He questions, his voice has lost the edge of laughter and without it, it sounds like a steel blade ready to slide through something.

Peter mentally braces himself and feels his spider sense whirring. "No, I don't think you're doing this for a "scheme"."

"Am I not?"

"Nope," Peter promises, then blurts out without really thinking on it: "I think that you're lonely."

Loki stills on the other side of the table and his fists clench around the styrofoam cup so hard it cracks, "I am beyond such lowly—" He starts to hiss out. His tone is desperate, though, lost.

"I have to run," Peter says and stands up to escape the following rant of the soul crushing variety (he doesn't want to get stabbed, explaining that to Mr. Stark again (stupid muggers) is not something he wants to do anytime soon). "But, um, maybe instead of stalking me we can just...talk sometime, alright?"

Loki eyes him critically.

Peter sighs and runs a hand through his hair, "Listen, I'm not very good at making friends, but I'm pretty sure that stalking someone isn't a part of it."

"I'm not trying to be your friend." Loki sneers and scoots up from the table so quickly it nearly causes the cups to spill over. "I am not a child, Spider. You don't get to decide what my intentions are." With that stated, he vanishes in a blur of blue light and Peter stares at the spot he was for a second.

Well, stalker problem solved.

On a worse note, Loki is probably going to do something with his identity.

000o000

He spends as much time as he can the next couple days around May and her work, stalking Michelle and Ned and keeping as many people as he can away from them. He's exhausted, barely manages to get passable grades on his homework and falls asleep in class twice. He knows he should swallow his pride and contact the Avengers for assistance, but he doesn't.

And he pays for it.

The muggee gets away, booking it down the street, but so does the mugger.

After shooting him.

Twice.

Peter gasps between his teeth, pressing his hands against the pulsing wounds and struggles to take in full breaths. One of the bullets is lodged in his shoulder, the other in his left lung. He knows that his time is slipping, but he can't focus on anything but how much he wants to breathe and how deeply everything hurts.

He's dying.

Oh, gosh, he is actually dying.

He may have a healing factor, but he hasn't been eating enough the last few days, to busy worrying about his family and friends to do anything about eating. It got in the way of time and he really needs...what? What does he need? A blanket? He's cold.

Blood.

There's blood in his mouth.

He didn't go to the dentist.

It's sharp and it hurts.

Bullets.

Cold.

Then suddenly there's a hand on his shoulder and a voice speaking rapidly in his ear. Peter doesn't recognize it, but he's too tired to do anything about it. His eyes slip shut and he can feel his consciousness slipping away before a sharp pain ripples through his shoulder and chest and water splashes into his face.

Peter gasps, jerking upwards and releases a cry, wrapping an arm around his chest.

"Be still." A familiar baritone commands and Peter looks up to see Loki before the Asgardian shoves him back against the wall and lifts his hands over Peter's chest.

Peter slaps his fingers away, "No!" He exclaims in panic.

Loki grabs at his wrists, "Spider, stop it, I'm trying to help—"

Peter squirms out of his grip and attempts to scramble to his feet, but the pain that ripples through him causes his feet to tangle. He lands in a heap and can't help the choked cry that escapes him. Loki's hands are once again touching him, turning him onto his back and Peter is suddenly aware that Loki's hands are slick with his blood.

This fuels his need to escape.

Loki grasps his shoulders and holds him down, "Peter, Peter, stop, I swear on my life that I am only trying to help you. You're bleeding, stay still."

Defeat slips through him. Loki visibly relaxes, "Thank you."

Loki releases his shoulders and lifts one hand above Peter's chest, the other coming to rest on the area of the injury. Peter's breathing hitches, and Loki murmurs an apology, yellowish light beginning to stream through his fingers. Magic.

The area numbs before Peter has a strange sensation of his skin being knit together. It's like being pinched, but slightly more painful and the skin stays in the little bumpy thing.

Loki repeats the process on his shoulder before pulling the blood from off his fingers with sorcery and vanishing it. He does the same to Peter's suit.

Peter slowly sits up and tugs off his mask to breathe easier, leaning forward and rubs at his stomach. Loki takes a position beside him, "Mr. Stark's going to kill me." Peter whispers. Then Loki. Then him again. He's very firm about the whole "if you get shot, tell me" thing.

"Likely so." Loki agrees.

Peter groans and buries his head into his hands. He inhales deeply, grateful for the lack of pain that follows then looks up at Loki. "Thanks. How did you know that I was here?"

Loki's lips thin then he sighs slightly and points towards the apartment building across the street, "I live there, I saw the shots."

Peter doubletakes, "Whoa, really? I thought…" He trails off abruptly, catching his tongue with embarrassment.

"That I lived in a evil lair underground with my enemies heads plastered to the wall?" Loki asks sarcastically.

Peter looks away but gives a slight nod.

Loki huffs, "Impractical." He flicks a piece of paper out to Peter with numbers scribbled onto it, "This is my mobile's number, next time you get shot and I'm not within the vicinity, call me."

Peter blinks up at him, "Wait, really?"

Loki pauses, "I'd rather not see you dead."

He rises to his feet, but Peter leaps to his and grabs his shoulder, "Wait." He requests, Loki looks back at him, "Thanks, Mr. Loki."

000o000

Mr. Stark is just as furious as he expected, and so are the rest of the Avengers. "Shot, Peter, you were shot and didn't even bother to call me." It's not as though he could have, anyway, what is he supposed to say "oh, no worries, Karen didn't feel a need to alert you 'cause Loki dealt with the problem" then shrug innocently?

He says nothing, and gets grounded for a week, but Peter's pretty okay with that. He eases the stalking of his family and friends, considerably less wary of Loki coming and ripping their heads off than he was a few days ago. He catches up on sleep, finishes schoolwork, and even manages to avoid Flash's pestering for the day.

Loki's waiting outside of the school when he exits and Peter slips away from Ned and Michelle again, walking up towards him. "What are you doing here?"

Loki's lips are pursed tightly and it looks like it takes some effort to part them. "Are you hale?"

"Um," Peter pauses for a second, then manages to place the meaning behind the word. Whole. Healthy. Etc. "Yeah."

Loki's fingers are anxiously digging into his palms and Peter awkwardly puts a hand on his shoulder, Loki's spine lurching at the contact. "Have you tried hotdogs yet?"

Loki shakes his head.

Peter nods, "Do you want to?"

Loki lets out a slight laugh, "I suppose."

And that's pretty much where the entire mess started.

000o000

On the plus side, Peter manages to keep Loki from taking up the mantle and causing some disaster or another every other month and when he does, there's no casualties. Peter can't stop him from reigning fire down on Manhattan, but so long as the only thing that gets hurt is buildings, he's more okay with it. Loki is careful to keep Peter out of harm's way when he does join in the fighting, and though it's slightly endearing, it's more frustrating.

When Peter landed on that building that fateful night to be the listening ear Loki needed, he had no idea that it would spiral into an actual friendship with the Asgardian. And Peter's not opposed to it; yeah, it's a little weird to list Loki among the label of "friends", but hey, it happened. Over the next several months, Peter learns dozens of things about Loki: He can't stand the color blue, he's funny, he has lactose intolerance to the point of it being deadly, he eats neatly, has weird habits with touching his hair and other strange things. The most prominent thing though, is that Loki has had very few friendships in his life and is extremely protective once you get past his icy layers. Which is both endearing, and terrifying.

Peter doesn't get the job at the Daily Bugle and admittedly, he's a little grateful for it because J.J. Jameson takes up an opinion on Spider-Man and it isn't a positive one. "Menace", "vigilante", and "threat" are particular favorites.

Five months from the bullet incident, he and Loki are sitting on the edge of a building, Peter taking photos of the people beneath them with Loki's phone (because Loki's camera is like, HD x2) as Loki reads a book beside him. J.J. is ranting about Spider-Man again in the full screen with his loud voice and horribly kept mustache and Peter glances up at Loki, mildly irritated.

"Do you think he realizes that he's hurting my feel goods?" He questions absentmindedly.

Loki looks up from the book, eyebrows lowered slightly. "What?"

Peter flicks a hand up towards the screen, "J.J. Jameson, the man who needs a shaver and an attitude adjustment." Peter goes back to the photos, but he sees Loki's eyes narrow slightly beside him before he, too, returns to his book.

That Friday the headquarters of the Daily Bugle is the center focus of Loki's recent reign on chaos and it goes down with burning glory.

Peter doesn't shed as many tears as he thinks is probably nice.

The next incident like this is worse than a building being razed to the ground, though.

Peter's dealt with bullies since he was in first grade, it's really nothing that he's unused to; he could do something about it because of his spider-] power things, but he doesn't. He's a natural target, being small and "defenseless", but he usually stands up for other kids and it typically doesn't end well. So, after one such incident when he shows up at the bookstore he agreed to meet with Loki at, baring a bruise Loki grips his face in a gentle, but angered manner his eyes alight with fury.

"What. Happened?"

Flash has a strong desire to be on decathlon and sense Peter refuses to drop out, it didn't make him very happy. Peter's lips thin, "Auhm," he stutters, "patrol."

Loki's smile is laced with venom, "You're an awful liar, Spider."

"It's nothing I can't handle." Peter promises, "Really."

Loki's jaw grits, but he seems to realize that Peter doesn't want to talk about it and leaves it at that. They explore the bookstore and Loki buys a handful of Peter's recommendations, then they leave and Peter escapes to Avengers Tower where Mr. Stark and he work on the suit until he returns back to the apartment.

When he shows up for school the next day, his English teacher has called in sick. Peter's a little disappointed, he likes Mrs. Gold, but he's more horrified when he realizes who the substitute is. They've sat in the class for an almost awkward amount of time after the bell has rung for it to begin before their teacher throws open the door and strides to the desk streaming out: "What is the difference between effect with and "e" and affect with an "a"?"

Peter quietly bites at his tongue, but does let his head fall to his desk.

Loki.

Loki has taken over his English class for the day.

How the heck does he learn these things?

The class is silent for a second before Amelia, in the front raises her hand, "One is what will happen, one is how it did?"

Loki makes a noise and waves his hand, "Close enough. I am your substitute, Mr. Loptr, Mrs. Gold is sick for the day and I'm acquaintances with her husband and he called me. Great, with that settled, let's begin."

The class is mildly awkward and Loki doesn't let anyone use their phones, but for the most part it goes over well. Loki gets the class laughing and though Peter wouldn't have really suspected it from a first look at him, Loki is a skilled teacher. He's patient and doesn't seriously drag anyone through the mud because they don't understand something, and explains the concepts well and thoroughly.

Everything appears to be going fine until Peter feels a small ball of paper smack into the back of his neck. He stays his patience and forces himself to look forward. Until he feels another.

And another.

And another.

Loki materializes beside him suddenly, with something between his fingers (a small ball of paper) and though he appears calm, Peter knows him a little better than that by now. "Mr. Thompson," Loki says in a patient, child loving tone, "see me after class."

Peter closes his eyes and quietly wishes Flash a quick death.

Class ends, letting them escape to lunch. After he, Ned and Michelle have taken their normal table, he spots Flash enter wiping at his face. Loki follows, looking smug. Tears. Loki reduced Flash Thompson to tears. At least it wasn't murder.

"Mr. Loptr's interesting," Michelle says looking towards him, "and he seems kind of familiar, but I can't place from where."

"Yeah." Ned agrees.

Peter bites at his tongue and stabs his fork into his plate heavily.

Michelle leans across the table, "Do you know him, Peter?"

Peter whips his head up to her and though he can feel his face paling he shakes his head, "Nope," he assures and glances up again, "never met him before in my life."

Neither really look like they believe him, but Peter gets well acquainted with his salad and ignores their stares.

000o000

"Need assistance. My apartment. Hurry."

It's the only information that Peter receives in the middle of patrol from Loki in a text and, burying the panic, he does so. He arrives in less than ten minutes to find the door unlocked and slips inside.

Loki is wheezing on the couch like something is shoved between his ribs and Peter swears slightly and tugs off his mask moving across the room. "Dude, what happened?" He demands, coming to a halt in front of Loki.

His chest is weeping blood despite Loki's attempts to stop it and it's terrifying.

"Loki?" Peter questions.

Loki looks up at him, "Poison." He hisses out, "Stab."

"You got stabbed with poison?" Peter interprets, feeling his stomach drop to his chest, "I—I don't know what to do, I should call someone or—"

He moves to grab his phone, but Loki grabs his wrist with a bloody hand, shaking his head desperately. "No...can't...prison."

Right.

That's a thing.

Argh!

"What do I do?" Peter demands.

"Cloth...bathroom...stop…bleeding." Peter nods and scrambles off towards the small apartments bathroom, quickly tearing through the cabinets until he finds a roll of gauze and a handful of other medical supplies. Seeming how Loki is a sorcerer, he's a little surprised at how much is here. He gathers as much as he can and moves back to the living room.

Loki is still gasping and Peter dumps the supplies on the coffee table, "We need to clean it and find an anti-venom for the poison." He says quickly. At least, he's pretty sure. Oh, gosh, Loki is dying. Peter can't do this. He can't watch someone else he cares for bleed out when he should be able to do something. Loki's like an older brother to him and he can't watch Loki die.

"Loki!" Peter says desperately and grabs the Asgardians shoulders, shaking him. Loki stirs again and looks at him with unfocused eyes. "Poison. What were you poisoned with?" Peter repeats.

Loki smiles thinly, "Snake...venom."

Peter swears under his breath, "I don't know where to get anything to counter that."

"No...need," Loki assures, "sedir...is."

Oh. Good. What about the giant hole in his chest, is his magic countering that, too? "Take off your shirt," Peter demands, "I need to clean it and stop the bleeding, even if your magic fixes the snake-problem, you still have a...hole."

Loki lifts shaking fingers to struggle with the buckles, but with some effort—and Peter's assistance—they manage to remove the various layers of clothing until his shirt and vest are gone. Peter pauses, his breath hissing out. Loki's chest is covered in scars, thick webbing and old burn marks that look like they were painful when they happened. There's also a few areas where stitches were removed to late and there's a zig-zag pattern scar. And good heavens, Loki is thin. Does he ever eat?

Peter. You don't have time for this. Loki has a gaping wound in his chest and they need to stop the bleeding. After effort, panic, and a few minutes, Peter manages to get the bleeding to stop and the wound wrapped and cleaned to the best of his ability.

Loki's ragged gasps slowly move to eased breathing and Peter washes his hands in the sink to clean off the blood, but no amount of scrubbing removes the horror inside of him. He texts May that he's staying the night at Ned's—he hates lying to her, but he's pretty sure the truth is much worse in this instance—then sits down on the coffee table.

Loki turns to look at him, opening his green eyes tiredly, "I'm sorry, I couldn't think of anyone else who would help me."

Thor would have, but Peter keeps that thought private. "No, it's fine." Peter assures. No, it's not, he doesn't want to see someone else bleed out if he can help it. He doesn't want to see blood. It makes him sick, all he can think of is Ben's blood on his hands and now Loki's desperately clinging to life, but—

Loki nods slightly. "Thank you."

"Yeah." Peter answers and rubs at the back of his neck. "What happened?"

Loki releases a raspberry and shifts onto his back with a pained wince, "I went to finish a deal."

When he doesn't add, Peter pushes: "And?"

Loki rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. "And he decided it was time to bury a hatchet."

"Oh, that's kind of nice—"

"In my chest."

Peter stills and the urge to vomit rises in his stomach, along with a fierce fury. "What? Who was it? I'm going to hang them by their toes on the Statue of Liberty." He promises, rising to his feet. Loki shakes his head and closes his eyes.

"I'd like to see you try."

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm not giving you the name, Peter."

Peter's shoulder slump with disappointment, "I'm staying here for the night," he declares and Loki's eyes pop back open with surprise.

"What, why?"

Peter stares at him, and can nearly hear the crickets chirping, "...You just got pummeled by a hatchet and died."

Loki's still wearing that to-wide-eyed expression of confusion, "So?"

Peter shakes his head, rolls his eyes and lightly whacks Loki's arm, "You're impossible." He promises. "Where are your extra blankets? You keep it like negative fourteen degrees in here and I don't want to freeze."

Loki gestures vaguely towards a closet.

Peter stays the night, and in the morning, Loki's wound is mostly healed.

He never does find the man with the hatchet, but if he had his threat would have been carried out in full force.

000o000

This time, it is Dr. Doom running around that Peter's dragged out of school for. Doombots are zooming to and fro causing destruction and overall damage as the Avengers, right smack in the middle of it, try to contain the worst of the havoc.

"Ah ha, fear not my lady," Peter exclaims landing in a crouch next to Black Widow, "your rescue is here!"

"My hero," she says dryly and fires at something next to his head. Peter grins and fires a web, dragging a bot through the air and smashing it into one of its brothers. The battle isn't anything amazing or much of a challenge. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner (currently the Hulk isn't going to help much because the power of science is needed) search for a single line they can cut to deactivate all of the bots as the rest of them deal as damage control.

"Hey, so have you guys seen that burger joint they're opening up down the street?" He questions.

"Why? Thinking of getting a day job?" Hawkeye quips.

Peter rolls his eyes good naturally, but admittedly yes, that was his plan, "Please," he snorts, "this is my full time job."

"Right."

"Well you know what, penguin?" Peter challenges, "Not all of us can have fancy-dancy S.H.I.E.L.D. jobs to sustain us. Some of us have to work for a living."

"Guys," Cap says in mild frustration, "can we focus on this, please?"

"I'm not a penguin," Hawkeye says in defiance, "they shouldn't even be classified as birds."

"Science disagrees."

"Then science is wrong."

Peter snickers, "Well if that's the way that you want to—" Peter's well on his way through the city past Widow when the doombot gets a good shot in and suddenly his side is on fire, his left wrist's web shooter is broken from where he smashed against the wall and he's tumbling back towards the ground more than fifty feet up.

Down came the rain and washed the spider out.

Oh gosh, oh gosh, rats, rats, rats, rats, rats, rats.

A strangled yell escapes him and he attempts to bring up his hand, but the slightest movement makes it feel like it's being torn from his shoulder. Left. Left hand. His web shooter is broken. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die.

Voices are blaring into his ears suddenly, but he can't hear anything. Only the wind pounding through his hair and the imminent death awaiting.

Splat.

When something hits the ground it goes splat.

Peter slams into the ground and he doesn't splat, he cracks.

Down his spine and across his ribcage his head pounding with a pulsing wound unlike any other. A gasping wheeze escapes him and then suddenly he's smashed over the head with sound as well. Natasha's head appears above him what could be hours or seconds later, her green eyes wide with panic. She's saying something, but Peter doesn't understand it.

He's saying something to, but he doesn't know what it is.

Natasha's expression looks puzzled after that, but the panic drowning in her voice makes it hard to determine what the source is. Instead, she's digging through his suit to find his phone and easily hacks into it.

She raises her gun to fire at something, shouts something into the comms then grabs Peter's hand with her own murmuring something. "You're going to be okay" Peter's pretty sure. All he can hear is the fire, the pounding of his heart, and how loud his breath is.

She presses the phone against her ear and her eyebrows shoot up, then she's speaking rapidly to whoever's on the other line. He should probably be offended that he's dying and Natasha's talking on the phone to someone, but he's not. She wouldn't do it unless she had to and—whoa, ow, yeah, that stings.

Loki materializes suddenly, phone in his hand and he scrambles beside Natasha, lifting a hand out. Peter feels the weirdly cold but gentle embrace of his magic and a choking gurgle escapes his throat. Loki's saying something, now, too, but Peter doesn't understand.

He's still murmuring words.

What is he saying?

"L" he's forming "L" at least.

Tony lands a second later, scrambling out of the suit to come to Peter's other side and he's yelling something at Loki, who slams his fist into the billionaires face. Very few words register, but Peter thinks he hears Loki saying: "He's my friend, he's my friend!"

Then everything starts to fade further and the adults scramble.

Peter's vision fades to black before they can convince him otherwise.

000o000

When he wakes up, he has a pounding headache, but nothing is numb or hurts. He's tired and a little thirsty as well. Bright light assaults his eyelids and Peter blinks them open with effort, and sits up slowly. He's in Stark Medical, a room he's visited more than once since meeting Tony.

Bruce, who Peter didn't realize was present, walks up next to him, "You alright?"

"Think so." Peter says and groans, rubbing at his eyelids, "How long was I out?"

"Eight days." Bruce admits and Peter whips his eyes back open.

"Ah man, May—"

"Has been alerted of the situation." Bruce assures.

"School—"

"Was told you were in the vicinity of the attack and needed time to recover."

So not completely a lie, then.

Peter slumps with relief, and Bruce hands him a glass of water. "I know that you're probably going to get grilled on this later, but friends. With Loki?"

Peter winces. "Um,"

Bruce sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose, "Don't apologize, we already knew."

"You did?"

Bruce smiles faintly, "Peter, you're a sixteen-year-old running around in a billion dollar suit who has a problem with staying hale. Karen, as you know, reports back feed. Most of the time we don't watch it, but after you got shot a few months ago we went back to find out what happened and...yeah."

"Oh." Peter breathes. Loki healed him, then they sort of became friends after that, but it really wasn't until after the hotdogs. "You're not mad?" Peter questions.

Bruce tilts his head slightly then sighs, "We've long since accepted it. Tony confronted Loki about it after the bullet-incident and...things were revealed that made us decide to let the friendship progress. We're not mad, Peter, we're proud."

Peter's stomach jumbles, "You are?"

Bruce rests a hand on his shoulder, "You single handedly befriended one of the top ten most wanted members for S.H.I.E.L.D. and even got him to substitute your class without even trying. I don't know how to do it."

Peter shakes his head, "Me either, I'm terrible at making friends."

Bruce gives a knowing look, "Maybe not as horrible as you think. Is there anything I can get you? I just need to run a few tests, but you should be able to go home tonight if everything goes over well."

Peter pauses, "I'm starving, a burger and fries, maybe?"

Bruce nods, "I'll get Jarvis on that."

000o000

After being acquainted with the rest of the Avengers and Tony happily giving him the requested burger and fries, Peter finds Loki outside on the balcony. Apparently, he'd been staying at the Tower since Peter's admission into the hospital and no ones really tried to stop him. Thor and Loki had a long overdue talk and things are less tense and awkward because of it.

Peter finishes the burger inside, but takes the package of fries with him.

Peter nudges him over and offers the fires out towards the dark-haired man. Loki glances at him, and takes a couple, but plays with them between his fingers before he eats them. "You are well, then?" Loki asks.

Peter nods, "Yeah, you?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Why are you out here?" Loki asks after a long stretch of silence and Peter smiles innocently at him.

"You really don't know?"

Loki's expression flickers with irritation, "No, I don't. Explain, please."

Peter lightly bumps him on the arm, "You're my friend Loki." He answers simply. Loki's eyebrows lift with surprise and he turns to look at him. "And besides that, you're like my older brother."

Peter offers him the rest of the french fries.

And Loki takes them.