blueberry szn 🫐 p. parker
- you and peter dye your hair
- cw: cute fluff, winterwidow tease bc i can, stark!reader
The elevator to the Tower penthouse opened with the loudest ding imaginable.
Peter froze. Your eyes went wide.
The tiny plastic bags in your hands crinkled as if they were personally betraying you.
“Why,” Peter whispered dramatically, “is the elevator so loud at two in the morning?”
“You pressed the open button like seventeen times.”
“I panicked.”
“You always panic.”
“I’m dating a Stark. Panic is my default setting now.”
You snorted, shoving his shoulder as the two of you tiptoed into the dark common room. The Tower was mostly asleep, lights dimmed low, and New York glittered outside the giant windows. But you and Peter were on a mission.
The objective: Sneak hair dye upstairs without Tony noticing.
Current odds of survival: Debatable.
Peter adjusted his hoodie, his curls sticking out everywhere from the humidity outside. “Okay. We just walk casually.”
“It's two a.m.?”
“…Tip-toe casually.”
“Thats better.”
Both of you started creeping across the room. Immediately, Friday’s voice floated down from the ceiling. “Welcome back, Peter and Miss Stark. Would you like me to inform Mr. Stark that you have returned safely with six boxes of blue hair dye?”
You both screamed. Peter nearly launched himself into a decorative plant (no amound of money could keep the plants alive here..)
“FRIDAY!” you gasped out.
“I was asked to monitor suspicious behavior.”
“Your profiling us now!?”
“You were whisper-running through the lobby while carrying contraband.”
Peter gasped softly. “Hair dye is not contraband.”
“Mr. Stark said, and I quote, ‘If those two touch their hair after midnight again, tell me immediately.’”
You looked at Peter. Peter looked at you. “…Run?”
“Go!”
Twenty minutes later, your bathroom looked like a smurf crime scene. Peter sat on the closed toilet lid, wearing one of Tony’s old MIT shirts backward “for protection,” blue dye smeared across his cheek already.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” you asked.
“I watched three tutorials.”
“That means absolutely nothing.”
“It means I’m basically licensed.”
“You just tried to open the developer bottle with your teeth.”
“Im trying to be efficient here, okay! I still get nightmares from when your dad caught us last time...” Peter says somewhat fretfully a dramatic chill comes over him.
You laughed so hard at the look of him you almost dropped the dye brush.
Peter was looking unfairly cute tonight—sleepy eyes, messy curls clipped back with your glitter butterfly clips while he waited for his turn because apparently he “wanted the full salon experience.”
His knees bumped yours every few times in the tiny bathroom.
“You better not ruin my hair,” you warned. Peter placed a dramatic hand over his heart.
“Oh I would never disrespect your follicles like that.”
“Wow. And they say romance is dead.”
“They just haven't met us just.”
You started carefully brushing dye into his curls. Peter went very still. His hands rested lightly on your waist to steady himself while you worked, tongue poking out a little in concentration as you separated curls.
“This is kinda intimate,” he murmured.
Your face warmed instantly. But Peter noticed instantly, “You blushing?”
“Shut up. You’re about to become bald if you keep talking.”
He snorted. Which immediately made you giggle. Which made him laugh harder. Five minutes later, you were both wheezing, trying not to drip blue dye everywhere.
“You look ridiculous,” you informed him lovingly.
Peter pointed at your head. “You have blue on your ear.”
“Oh no, maybe we really are turning into smurfs.”
An hour later, both of you sat cross-legged on the bathroom counter, waiting for the dye to set. Peter had somehow convinced you to let him paint tiny blue stars on your hand with leftover dye. “You know this washes off in like a day,” you said.
“All good art is temporary.”
“That was disgustingly poetic,” you say leaning against his shoulder.
Outside, thunder rumbled softly over the city. Inside, Peter quietly intertwined your fingers with his. A comfortable silence settling in.
Until...
“Why are there tiny blue fingerprints leading down the hallway?”
You both jerked upright. Natasha stood in the doorway wearing silk pajama pants and black henley (that was very obviously not hers.)
Behind her, Bucky leaned against the doorframe looking quite comfortable for someone awake at three in the morning.
Peter whispered, horrified, “We forgot to clean the fingerprints.”
Natasha’s eyes moved slowly between your blue-stained hands, Peter’s dye-covered forehead, and the towels scattered everywhere.
“You two look like blueberries.”
Bucky’s mouth twitched. “Honestly? Kinda cute.”
You grinned proudly. Peter looked seconds away from combusting.
Then another voice echoed down the hallway.
“…Why is there hair dye on my floor?”
Tony.
Peter made a noise usually heard from dying Victorian women.
Tony appeared wearing a Black Sabbath shirt and socks, took one look at the two of you and froze.
Blue-haired Peter. Blue-haired you. Matching. Impossibly close with tiny dye stars painted on your skin.
Tony blinked once. “…I leave the Tower alone for ONE night.”
“Technically,” Peter said weakly, “it’s still the same night.”
“Not helping yourself, kid.”
You hopped off the counter. “Okay but look how cute we are. Nat said we look like two little blueberries. And even Bucky thinks we're cute. ”
Tony stared.
You and Peter simultaneously smiled at him.
Matching blue hair framing identical hopeful expressions.
Bucky snorted while Natasha straight-up took a picture.
Tony pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “I hate that this is adorable.”
Peter brightened. “Really?”
“No.”
“…Oh.”
“But also yes.”
You cackled as Tony pointed a warning finger at both of you.
“If either of you stain my couch blue, you’re disowned.”
“Can’t disown me,” you said smugly. “I own half this place.”
Tony groaned. "I knew that would bite me in the ass one day."
Peter whispered to you, “Worth it.”
You leaned up and kissed blue dye right onto his cheek.
“Definitely worth it.”
There was a soft silence after that.
Then you narrowed your eyes slowly at Natasha.
“…Wait.”
Natasha immediately looked wary. “No.”
You pointed between her and Bucky. “Why are you two awake together at three in the morning?”
Bucky coughed.
Natasha crossed her arms. “Training.”
“Uh-huh,” you said, staring at the henley hanging off her shoulder.
Peter gasped quietly beside you. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Natasha warned.
“You’re wearing his shirt,” you said.
Bucky looked down at the floor while Tony’s eyes widened dramatically. “BARNES.”
“Don’t start,” Bucky muttered.
“Oh, this is the best day of my life.”
Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose while Peter looked delighted beyond comprehension.
You grinned slowly.
“So…" Tony started, "a couple of blueberries and a couple of assassins? Who needs love island when you got the AVENGERS Towers.”
"Don't forget Wanda and her A.I boyfriend."
had to add some winterwidow SUE me dividers by @cursed-carmine >< like, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated <3