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The halls of the building were dark, lit only by soft glowing emergency exit lights and scattered rays of moonlight seeping past the blinds, left open in offices. The usually bustling corridors looked hauntingly still at this time of night, and it was almost unsettling, but the building wasn’t exactly quiet. The compound had long since been emptied of all regular Stark Industries employees, but the few who stayed behind to finish any outstanding work could be heard, the quiet noises barely carrying in the hallways. Shuffling papers, some last minute documents being printed out and the faint click of keyboards and mice would ring out in the corporate setting, reminding the late workers of the professional and highly revered place they worked.
The same, though, could not be said for the part of the building where the Avengers lived, because the Avengers’ personal quarters could not be more different to the rest of the compound at this time of night.
Their quarters on the West side of the building were lit up with music, a playlist compiled by the team surrounding them with upbeat ambience, with barks of laughter and clinks of glasses and bottles being set down complimenting the tunes. The Avengers sat around the common room, sharing stories from their time as team members and their lives before the New York fiasco. The others would laugh, smile and hum along as they listened, reminiscing on their own lives.
This had become the case with most Saturday nights after the whole situation with the Accords had been settled. The escalation of their opposing views nearly ended the team and it was becoming undeniably clear that they didn’t trust each other nearly as much as they thought, or frankly, needed to. The common get togethers were the obvious step towards mending the cracks in their bonds (and the formation of new ones), and it had come together better than anyone could have hoped for.
But, to say it was a little awkward at first was an understatement, and a huge one at that. The first weekend felt more like a board meeting than a social event. No one really thought it was a good idea, and the silence hung heavy in the room. The tension between the team was so thick, it was suffocating, but it almost seemed preferable to the mechanical whir of Rhodey’s leg braces. The physical reminder of their unnecessary conflict was the last thing people wanted to hear.
That first weekend was undoubtedly awful.
It was only when Peter joined the fray that the nights took up more of a casual attitude. Despite the initial shock of his identity, the team found him to be immediately likeable, and his juvenile take on the Saturdays sliced through the tension. He was the first to start recounting his adventures as both the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, fighting crime and helping old Dominican ladies, and the extremely awkward Peter Parker, just trying his best, and soon the sharing between the group became the highlight of people’s nights.
The team all took to Peter, like moths to flame, and displayed this through their nuanced takes on love. At first it was Steve placing a large hand around Peter’s shoulders as he recalled a near miss with an alien shotgun, then Clint pointing out his scrawny stature before thrusting a bowl of chips into his arms and telling him to remember to eat, and Tony’s incessant reminders to study hard and stay in school. Even Sam seemed to care for the kid, despite his “light” teasing that seemed more detrimental than caring. The beating Sam took from Peter at the airport was still a sore spot for his ego, but the comedy of the encounter had seemed to die after a while, and the subject was dropped, instead replaced my more recent tales of Sam’s beatings during training.
What was perhaps the biggest surprise, however, was Natasha draping her favourite blanket over Peter’s sleeping body one night, and replacing the AP chemistry textbook Peter had passed out on with an actual cushion. Natasha didn’t get attached, because that’s how she was made.
But she’d broken that rule before, so what was the harm in making one more exception?
This Saturday night was slightly different to the others, though. There weren’t as many stories being swapped, or jokes being told, and instead everyone was quiet, listening to Peter in disbelief.
“I don’t… I just can’t…” Steve was the first to speak over Peter, stuttering in disbelief, as if what Peter had just displayed was the most unbelievable act he’d ever witnessed.
“What? It’s Queen!” Peter shouted defensively. Peter was known to be odd for all the obvious reasons, like being able to stick to walls and bypass the laws of physics, but there was one skill he had prided himself on even before that fateful spider bite.
“I know Queen is iconic and all that shit, but you just recited Bohemian Rhapsody word for word, absolutely perfectly. I’m pretty sure even Freddie Mercury couldn’t do that!” Sam quickly retorted.
For the past thirty minutes, Wanda had been shuffling through Peter’s Spotify playlist, in shock at just how many songs were saved. Peter didn’t seem to have any specific taste in music, hell he barely had a vague taste in music. Any and every genre was found on the list, jumping from classic rock (something Tony greatly appreciated) to video game soundtracks to indie EPs. Peter tried to justify this, saying how he just wasn’t picky, but as Wanda called more of the team over to tease Peter, he explained,
“Listen, genres are outdated, guys. If it slaps, it slaps, who am I to say no to good music?”
“Slaps?” Steve questioned.
“Goes hard.” Peter supplied, only to be met with the same quizzical gaze from Steve. “If it’s good.” He sighed.
But as Wanda continued stalking the playlist, thoroughly roasting him for some key titles alongside Sam (“My Chemical Romance? Really, dude?”), another key fact stood out:
Peter knew the title, artist and release date of every. Single. Song.
“Woah, slow down, Pete. You’re telling me you know every single song in that endless playlist?” Tony questioned. He knew the kid was smart, but not eidetic memory smart.
“Yeah? I kinda listen to it everyday. It’s not that weird.”
“Okay, that wouldn’t be weird if it was a regular playlist, but this thing is longer than a CVS receipt, and you haven’t tripped up once.” Clint pointed out, snatching the smashed up phone out of Sam’s hands and scrolling through the songs.
Peter laughed it off, taking a sip from the Capri-Sun Sam had jokingly supplied him with. “Yeah, whatever, next you’ll be telling me it’s weird I know all the lyrics.” He chuckled, looking down, only to be met with silence from the team. “What?”
The team burst out at once, all proclaiming the same thing.
“No way.”
“I call bullshit!”
“Man, shut the hell up.”
“What?” Peter laughed out, smiling at the denial. “It’s true! Look, just, just test me.”
So that’s how the entire team came to lounging around one couch, staring at this kid belting out perfect lyrics to every song that played. The party trick was nothing new to Peter, because for as long as he could remember, if there was a tune to something, he could and would remember it word for word. Peter figured long ago this made for a fun party trick and study tactic, and for some reason, even after being bitten by a radioactive spider, Peter considered this to be his coolest power.
Well, not really.
If he was to be completely honest, sticking to walls was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him, but he couldn’t tell anyone that, so this was the next best (at least shareable) thing.
“Man, you’re just jealous, it’s not that hard! I swear!”
“Nah, I agree with birdbrain 2.0 over there.” Tony piped up after a long drink, emptying the bottle. “You’re a freak, kiddo.”
Peter feigned offence at this, dramatically putting a hand to his chest and letting his jaw drop. He brushed it off quickly with a giggle, though, and turned back to the group, laughing at how they all hummed and nodded at Tony’s comment.
“What, so the whole Spider-Man thing is completely normal?” Peter laughed sarcastically, once again giggling at the groups mutual agreement. “Ridiculous.” He sighed, his smile still plastered against his face.
“Look who you’re talking to kid, you’re about as normal as it gets.” Natasha smiled softly, nudging Peter in the arm. He laughed at this, and thought that was the first time he’d been considered “normal” since the bite.
Actually, that was the first time he was considered normal.
Before the bite, Peter was still an outcast. His head was always stuck in a text book and never really had any friends. The only reason he had Ned was because Ned approached him when they were in middle school, out of the kindness of his heart. Bless him, Peter thought. But Peter wasn’t normal, no two ways about it, Spider-Man or not, Peter Parker was anything but normal.
So to be regular, that was nice.
Sam once again barked with laughter.
“Yeah the Spider-Man thing is weird at first, but you get used to it. This,” He gestured to Peter’s head vaguely with his hands, “is what I’ll never get used to.”
Steve clapped his hand against Peter’s back laughing heartily. “Yeah, that’s a cool trick kid. Really impressive. Songs weren’t like that in the thirties, they were shorter, simpler. Christ how many breaks did that thing have?”
“Cap, it’s Bohemian Rhapsody! That many bridges is kinda like, it’s thing!” Peter suddenly shot up, passion in his eyes, seemingly a touchy subject. This reaction sparked more laughter from the group, and through the huffs, Wanda asked for one more before letting go. Clint expertly tossed the phone in her direction, much to the displeasure of Peter. His phone was smashed enough without it being treated like a hot potato. Wanda caught it perfectly, though and played the next song.
At the sound of the introduction, almost the whole team made a challenging “OOOH” sound, prompting confusion from Steve and Wanda.
“What? What song is this?” Steve asked over the chiming intro.
“Did no one think to tell the man frozen for seventy years to listen to the song recapping everything that’s happened in the twenty-first century?” Clint answered bluntly. Steve only gave a betrayed look to answer his question. “We Didn’t Start The Fire, man! How did no one tell you this?” He almost cackled as he continued, almost jeering at Peter, “Whatever, spider dude, good luck remembering this one!”
The introduction still played, coming to the first verse when Peter jumped up, full of energy, clearly ready to put all he had into not just a demonstration, but a performance.
“Feel free to join in whenever, guys.” He simply stated before launching into air-drums.
“Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray, South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio. Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, television, North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe.”
Peter sang perfectly, kicking his leg up at the end of the the sentence and falling into an air-guitar movement, prompting laughter from the adults. Bobbing his head to the rhythm, he continued.
“Rosenbergs, H-bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom, Brando, "The King and I" and "The Catcher in the Rye", Eisenhower, vaccine, England's got a new queen, Marciano, Liberace, Santayana goodbye.”
Peter saluted a goodbye at the end of the verse and pointed out to the group, telling them to join in the chorus.
They happily obliged.
“We didn't start the fire!” They all sang-shouted, except for Steve, obviously. Even Wanda had recognised the song by it’s iconic tune and recited what she could.
“It was always burning, since the world's been turning! We didn't start the fire, no we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it!” Their singing was off-key and none of them quite hit the right volume or notes, but the sentiment remained. All attention was once again on Peter when the second verse strung up.
“Joseph Stalin, Malenkov, Nasser and Prokofiev, Rockefeller, Campanella, Communist Bloc, Roy Cohn, Juan Peron, Toscanini, Dacron, Dien Bien Phu falls, "Rock Around the Clock", Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn's got a winning team, Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland, Bardot, Budapest, Alabama, Krushchev, Princess Grace, "Peyton Place", trouble in the Suez.”
Peter belted out the verse with no interruptions or slip ups, and bounced from one foot to the other in what could be considered a vague attempt at dancing. He once again held out his hand, pointing at the group as the chorus strung up for a second time, inviting their voices back.
The group sang the chorus again, but this time not to Peter, but to Steve. The bewilderment was clear to see on his face, not only from the stream of unheard of references, but Peter’s ability to roll them off the tongue like a nursery rhyme. The chorus was simple enough, and Natasha seemed to take it upon herself to teach the man at least some of the words. The chorus ended and Peter immediately picked up the third verse.
“Little Rock, Pasternak, Mickey Mantle, Kerouac, Sputnik, Chou En-Lai, "Bridge on the River Kwai", Lebanon, Charlse de Gaulle, California baseball, Starkweather, homicide, children of thalidomide, Buddy Holly, "Ben Hur", space monkey, Mafia, Hula hoops, Castro, Edsel is a no-go, U2, Syngman Rhee, payola and Kennedy, Chubby Checker, "Psycho", Belgians in the Congo!”
If Peter was any normal human being, he’d be out of breath by now, or at least pausing to regain control, but despite what Natasha said, Peter was no normal human being, and instead launched into the chorus, now accompanied by a shaky Steve.
By the end of the third chorus, Sam was looking utterly bewildered and couldn’t help the slack-jawed look he threw at Peter as he began the fourth verse, singing into his hand as if it were a microphone, determination burning behind his eyes.
“Hemingway, Eichmann, "Stranger in a Strange Land", Dylan, Berlin, Bay of Pigs invasion, "Lawrence of Arabia", British Beatlemania, Ole Miss, John Glenn, Liston beats Patterson, Pope Paul, Malcolm X, British politician sex!” Peter brought his hand up to the back of his head, mimicking an explosion along with the final line, “JFK, blown away, what else do I have to say?!”
The team didn’t need Peter’s invitation this time, instead just joining in as Billy Joel repeated the chorus for the fourth time. Now, the whole group was singing confidently into their hands like Peter, or their empty glasses, or half full bottles. They all mirrored looks of ecstasy as they sang, laughing at the sheer silliness of the whole situation.
Peter had pulled Wanda up from the recliner despite her weak and half-hearted protests, and spun her around, initiating the implication to dance with him. They laughed as she mirrored his fumbling half steps and various air-instruments until the end of the chorus when she fell back against the cushions, smiling giddily.
“Birth control, Ho Chi Minh, Richard Nixon back again, Moonshot, Woodstock, Watergate, punk rock, Begin, Reagan, Palestine, terror on the airline, Ayatollah's in Iran, Russians in Afghanistan, "Wheel of Fortune", Sally Ride, heavy metal, suicide, Foreign debts, homeless vets, AIDS, crack, Bernie Goetz, Hypodermics on the shores, China's under martial law, Rock and roller cola wars, I can't take it anymore!”
Peter finished the final verse with a gasp, still smiling, and looked up at Sam. The man was in such a state of shock, he couldn’t formulate a response as the team loudly finished up the final choruses, the team in awe at Peter’s performance.
As the song faded out into to some soothing game soundtrack, the team remained giggling like schoolchildren at the transpired events. Natasha was leaning against Steve, her laughs soft and light and his hearty and admiring. He shot a look over to Tony, hoping to tell him that he was right when he boasted Peter’s intelligence, but instead saw Tony gazing at Peter, awe and pride swelling in his eyes, as if he Peter were his son accomplishing something astronomic, not just singing a song. As Steve opened his mouth to grab Tony’s attention, Tony jumped up and grabbed Peter by the shoulders, spinning him around to the group, and draped an arm over his shoulder.
“Take a good look everyone! This man right here is the future of heroes! Our next-of-kin! Our protege! Our heir! Our-”
“Okay Mr. Stark, I think that’s enough.” Peter cut Tony off before he could turn a deeper shade of scarlet.
These Saturday nights were for sharing, yes, but more importantly, they were for bringing the Team back together, and no one helped more with that than Peter Parker.