**Request for hela-of-asgurd in which Peter acts as the Avenger's babysitter. This turned into a lot of shorter pieces stitched together, but I hope it is what you were looking for. I try to make my own deadlines and then I wake up in the morning laying on my laptop with a whole screen of 'e's to work through. Enjoy!**

Peter watched over the edge of the kitchen table as he did his homework, always keeping Clint and Natasha in his line of sight. He had work to do, sure, but this... Two super-spies who thought they were invincible needed some supervision.

Natasha was twirling a knife between her fingers, which wasn't an uncommon sight, but then Clint was saying "let's play pinfinger" and Peter was snapping back to attention.

Natasha put her hand flat on the coffee table they were sitting near and then began to stab the knife down between her fingers, the blade making a very satisfying thud in the wood each time it made contact with the table.

Peter didn't remember getting up and out of his seat, but there was was, standing over the two adults and holding the knife out of reach. He'd grabbed the knife from Natasha mid-stab, plucking it from her very-human hands with his not-so-spidery super ones.

"Hey!" Clint protested as Natasha leapt up from her knees to try and grab the knife back. Peter took a full step backwards and held the knife further behind his shoulder.

"Nope," the teen said, popping the 'p' in the word. "We're not playing some harebrained game where one or both of you lose a finger. I don't care how good you are with knives, this isn't a toy."

Both adults pouted a little, but quietly agreed to not play anymore, and Peter passed the knife back to them. "I have homework," he informed them, moving back to the kitchen table. Try not to do anything insane so I can finish it."

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Tony was watching ESPN, a rare sight indeed, but this was car racing. Cars.

It was no surprise to anyone how much of a car nerd Tony really was - he'd spent days building and rebuilding the cars downstairs, and he'd kept season tickets to the big races when he was a kid. He would carve out a couple days each year to try and make it to the Indie or one of the All-Star races. Sometimes he'd get a whole week and just go watch qualifiers for the Cup.

Peter knew all of this, so he really wasn't too phased by Tony shouting enthusiastically at the screen as cars careened through the track. It wasn't until an announcer came on and started filling in viewers on a new driver that he started to take notice.

"-with Galbreth out for the race, it was waived and he has a sub this time. Of course, that waiver is everything to a racer seeing as he's still in it for the Chase."

"No!" Tony yelled angrily, almost throwing thee remote. "They waived that bastard but Ellis last year got nothing? We were out a whole damn season because of another driver's fucking mistake and now this." Tony threw up his hands and Peter watched out of the corner of his eye as the billionaire got on his phone, practically punching his fingers into the screen.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked warily.

"I am... buying... the car..." Tony said, his words interrupted by long pauses as he punched in numbers or waved his hand in a circle and waited for the page to load.

"What?" Peter squawked, nearly bouncing off the couch as he scrambled to get a look over Tony's shoulder.

"I am buying the damn car, and now... I am requesting a new driver take over."

"That seems so shady," Peter murmured, watching as Tony sent a message to the current driver of the car to pack his things. There would be no subs competing for their place in the Chase on Tony's watch. "You can't just buy things when you are upset," Peter said lowly. "That's childish and kind of mean."

Tony hummed. "But I have the means."

"Alright," Peter conceded. "But at least be nicer to the drivers. Say 'thank you' at the end of your little message, remember your manners."

"Whatever," Tony said, but he added a 'thank you' to his signature and sent it.

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Peter didn't even look up from his book. "No stabbing people, Loki."

The god grumbled to himself angrily, but slyly slid a knife back into his sleeve and took a step back from the delivery boy. The poor kid apologized for not putting more fortune cookies in the bag - there were thirty-four - and then hurried down the hall.

"You take the fun out of things," Loki said unhappily.

"That's my middle name," Peter said dryly. "Peter 'take the fun out of things' Parker."

"Funny, I thought it was Benjamin. Or Anthony after your father."

Peter ignored the blush creeping up his cheeks in favor of focusing on his book again.

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"Throw it out."

Steve looked up from his spot at the fridge. "What?"

Peter nodded towards the gallon of milk in Steve's hands. It was only a few sips, maybe a half a glass if you really got it all, but Peter knew it had been in there for a while. It was probably bad, and they were getting groceries delivered in the morning.

"Why?" Steve said with a rumpled nose. "We can still use this."

Peter shook his head. "No way, that's been in there for a while. It's probably going bad, if it isn't bad already. Just throw it out, Steve, it's only a little bit and we have more coming tomorrow morning."

Before Steve could say anything else, Bucky chimed in from the doorway. "He can't bring himself to do it, kid. Remember, he grew up during the Depression."

Peter sighed and got up, crossed the kitchen, and took the bad milk right out of Steve's hands. He dumped it in the sink, then crumpled the gallon and put it in the recycling box. "There. Now I can be the bad guy so you don't have to be."

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Pepper poked her head in the door, knocking lightly. Peter looked up from his desk, where he was working on the web-shooters. "Hey, kid."

"Hey, Pep! How was the trip? Did you just get back?"

Pepper nodded. "I did. It was long, but productive. Thanks for watching the team while I was gone."

Peter flashed her a smile. "It was really no trouble at all."

"No, no, I don't believe that for a second," Pepper said with a laugh. "Now, I believe we agreed on a hundred bucks a day?"

Peter went red. "Really, Pepper, you don't have to pay me, it wasn't even-"

Pepper held up a wad of cash. "Every babysitter gets paid, Pete."