Iᥒto Thᥱ Sριdᥱr 【Peter Parker | Avengers】

Languange Buddies

Today was a bad day, according to Peter Parker. Last night, he was out patrolling until two in the morning because of some muggers decided to join the party at the last minute when he was supposed to go back home for his curfew. Then he just remembered if he was going to have some impromptu quiz in algebra, so he stayed all night studying. But the teacher was forget, instead she gave the students homework that literally had no connection to anything that Peter learnt the other night. The history teacher punished him from catching Peter falling asleep in the middle of the class, so he went to detention. Not to mention that Happy could not stop ranting about how tired he was to wait for thirty minutes more for Peter.

Then there was traffic, and he had to wait for another thirty minutes before arriving in the compound, because today was Friday and he was finally able to spend his time in the Avengers Headquarters. The rain was pouring, the entire city was drowning under the cold wet windy weather. After the car was put back in the garage, Peter immediately unfastened his seat belt, did not mind the confuse look on Happy's eyes all the way from school to the compound. Peter was not in such a good mood, everything he wanted to do right now was just staying in his bed in the compound for the rest of the evening until he felt better. But Peter knew he could not do that. Not when he was in the compound and surrounded by hyperactive superheroes with their noisy sound.

Not when Tony just informed him if Thor was visiting earth today after his long break for being an Avengers to take care of his new kingdoms. He had not been seeing Thor since the last war with Thanos, and he had been wanting to see those different shades of eye color, excited giggling, and bombarding voice of the god. The compound was busy as always with agents and some employees from Stark Industries roaming around the halls. His mind was filled with so much thoughts of how bad today was turned out when he accidentally bumped into an agent, who managed to grab a sandwich and the sauce was spilled onto Peter's blue nerdy scientific sweater. In that moment, Peter wanted to curse. But he knew if the sweet little Parker was not allowed to curse, according to Tony Stark. Not until he was in an experiment and there was an explosion.

So he waved, saying it was all okay and he could change. The truth was, Peter did not bring any clothes. He was so occupied with studying for his quiz and saving the Queens from bad guy the other night until he actually forgot to pack some of his clothes. Well, Tony had been offering him million times about buying him a clothes so he did not have to move his clothes back and forth from his apartment to the compound. But Peter refused it. First, Peter felt like a spoiled brat if he accepted it. Second, Peter could not afford the price. If he ended up damaging the shirt on half of his clumsy behavior, he sure knew damn well he could not repaying back the price, and probably would end up being killed by May.

When he entered the main room, where the Avengers used to spend their time in it after each mission, Peter was expecting all of the team members were there. Reading books, playing games, talking, or just napping in the corner. But no one was there. Well, Peter actually felt. . . relieved that he did not need to entertain the Avengers with his simple fake smile, hiding all his emotions and angers away for one day. Instead, he noticed a familiar brown hair, peeping from the sofa. The big TV screen was playing a sponge bob movie. Peter smile a bit, the warmth of noticing what the man was watching healing him a bit.

"I hate everyone," Peter stated, as he threw himself to the white, soft, big sofa. It immediately bounced his body back for the man beside him noticing the change of the weight.

Tony stared at the boy, frowning. But slowly, his lips mouthed a sentence. "Big. . ." he glanced at Peter, notifying the proud look that started building up inside those big brown doe eyes. ". . . mood?"

If Peter was in a better stable condition, he would laugh or probably cry at the sudden mention of the relatable phrase. But he was not, which made him a little guilty and tired at the same time. He sighed, put his head back to the sofa then closed his eyes. Covering his eyes with his hands. Everything seemed to be suck, everything seemed to be horrible at this point and Peter just wanted to scream, or he could falling from on top of a buildings while humming 'another bite turn to dust' just to piss out the living hell of the god of death.