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You peered through the peephole, finding a harsh-eyed man with spiky hair standing on the porch. You opened the door as much as the chain would allow you, peering out at the strange man through the crack. “Who are you?”
“Name’s Clint. I need to talk to Scott.”
“We?” You peered around, finding that Clint was by himself.
“Can I just talk to Scott?”
You looked the stranger up and down before shutting the door. You reached for the baseball bat by the door with one hand while you slid the chain off with the other. You stepped back, letting the man in, holding the bat tightly.
“No need for the weapon,” Clint said, stepping into the foyer. “I’m not here to hurt your brother.”
You scowled at him. “Stay here.” Taking the bat with you, you stepped into the house, wondering where your brother had ended up.
You finally found him in the kitchen, stuffing his face with a sandwich. “There’s a strange man here to see you.”
“A strange man?” Scott swallowed the bite in his mouth. “What sort of strange man?”
You shrugged. “Spiky hair.”
Scott cocked his head to the side slightly. He nodded, taking another bite from the sandwich before heading for the foyer. “Help you?”
“Mr. Lang, my name is Clint Barton. I’m--”
“Holy shit, you’re Hawkeye!”
Scott fumbled with his sandwich, trying to hold a hand out to shake Clint’s. The guest slowly reached forward and shook his hand once.
“Look, do you have a minute to talk? There’s some… big stuff happening out there and we could really use you.”
Clint’s eyes darted to you, leaning against the doorframe. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
Scott glanced back at you. “Uh, yeah, sure. This way.”
You watched as he led Clint down the hall to the study, shutting the heavy door behind him. You pressed your ear against it but heard nothing. Until…
“Y/N,” Scott hollered. “Get away from the door. It’s shut for a reason.”
‘Butthead,’ you thought, stalking off towards the living room.
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You watched as Clint and Scott stepped through the hall, towards the front door.
“Thanks again,” Clint said. “We’ll be in touch in a day or so.”
“Thank you,” Scott said. You heard the front door open and shut and then your brother appeared in the doorway.
“You and your boyfriend have a good meeting?” you asked, turning back to the television.
“Y/N, there’s… something I need to tell you.”
“I mean obviously I’ll be in the wedding.”
You turned, looking up at your brother. “What?”
“There’s about to be a huge fight between two… incredible teams.”
“Iron Man is going to fight Captain America.”
“Yeah, I don’t really know specifics… but it appears that Cap wants me on his team.”
“Holy shit, no way?!” You jumped up, rushing towards Scott. “Oh, my God, that’s fantastic! When do we leave?”
“What? Come on, of course, there is. I know there’s that other suit in there.”
“Y/N, no. I’m not going to let you risk your life for this. It’s not worth it.”
“Then why are you risking yours?”
Scott studied you. “Dammit, why are you always like this?”
“Because you raised me like this,” you said over your shoulder, heading to get the Yellow Jacket suit.
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As dangerous as the fight was (and holy fucking shit, these superheroes were NOT messing around), you couldn’t help but notice how pretty Wanda was. And her powers were incredibly intoxicating to watch (you’d been almost knocked out a few times, having been distracted by her).
When the fight was finally over, the two sides separating and tending to their wounds, your brother stepped over to you.
“Fine,” you said, rubbing your sore wrist. Scott crouched down, taking your wrist in his hands. You winced slightly when he turned it.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want you fighting,” he said with a scowl. “Hopefully it’s no more than a sprain.” Scott stood. “Come on. We’re supposed to go back to base and discuss what happened, try to figure out our next move.”
“Base? That’s so awesome! It’s like we’re real superheroes now!”
“Easy, kid. Don’t seem too eager in front of the others. I think it freaks Cap out.”
You nodded, following your brother to the van. Your ‘team’ crawled inside; the atmosphere on the ride back home was stiff, corpse-like.
But Wanda had chosen to sit next to you. Every bump in the road caused her knee to nudge yours. Occasionally, the two of you made eye contact, sharing the smallest of smiles.
“How’s your wrist?” she asked quietly.
“Sore,” you admitted, not feeling the typical need to be a ‘manly man’ who doesn’t feel pain. “But totally worth it. I mean, I got to fight alongside Captain America!”
Wanda chuckled slightly. “You’re a bit of a fanboy, aren’t you?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted to be a superhero and now I’ve gotten to help out superheroes!”
“You know what that makes you, right?”
You stared at Wanda, eyes wide. You… were a superhero?
