Pointe Shoes and Spider Webs

78. Channeling Device

"Hey, kid." Tony walks into Daphne's room unannounced. She doesn't look at him. A few days ago, he told her his side of the story and she told him she needs time to let her anger out. She may have also told him where to shove it, but Tony just nodded and left. At least he understood she didn't like him keeping that secret from her.
"Hey," she replies simply. She's doing her homework, hoping to catch up so she can start classes again on Monday.
"I know you're not really happy with me right now, but I just wanted to let you know that we have the monthly Avengers dinner thingy tonight and eh, well..." He scratches the back of his head. "Since you've been here for a while now and getting better, I figured it'd be appropriate to invite you to that."

Daphne cocks an eyebrow and glances at him.
"Avengers dinner?" The skeptical remark makes Tony laugh softly.
"Yeah, Steve's idea, not mine." Tony sucks at his teeth and taps his foot. Daphne shifts her attention back to her homework and doesn't reply. "It's at six. We'll save you a seat."
"Thanks." Tony blinks a few times.
"Did you just say thanks?"
"I can take it back, yaknow?" she replies promptly.
"No take-backsies." He points at her as he says that. He starts moving out the door again and Daphne scoffs.
"How old are you again?" He's already out the door but replies anyways:
"That's not a very nice question to ask a man of my age!" He shouts from the hallway.
"You basically just said you're old!" She shouts back at him. He suddenly pokes his head back in.
"Touché." He grins wide with his lips pressed together. His eyes turn to slits. "So," he says quickly as he nods. "See you at six?"
"Sure."

The second Tony closes the door she realizes what this means. Dinner with the Avengers. Sure, she might have warmed up to a few of them, but there are more Avengers than the ones she's had conversations with. She knows they're all just people too, but it's still quite intimidating to sit at a table with them. Is Peter going to be there? He told her he isn't officially an Avenger, which worries her. But if she's invited to the dinner, why wouldn't Peter be? She hopes with all her heart that he's going to be there too.

...

Daphne makes her way to the penthouse living quarters. Her dad didn't pack regular clothes for her, so she's still in sweatpants and Peter's Midtown Tech hoodie. She quietly prays that there isn't actually a dress code. The elevator door dings and the doors open.
"Daph!" Peter looks up from his work in the kitchen and a bright smile spreads across his face.
"Pete, hey, you're here too?"
"It's my turn to cook," he says, almost apologetically. Daphne walks towards him and gently takes the knife out of his hand. She presses a quick kiss on his cheek and bumps his hip with hers, silently telling him to step aside. Instead of stepping to the side, he takes a step back so he can wrap his arms around her waist. She takes the bell pepper in her hand and continues chopping it.
"You seem nervous," she jokes.
"Parkers aren't good cooks." He laughs at his own remark, but it dies down. "All the Avengers are gonna have to eat what I make them. Last time we had to order takeout cause I somehow set the pot on fire." Daphne chuckles.
"You don't just set a pot on fire- what did you do?"
"Honestly, no clue."

Daphne enjoys the warmth of Peter's body against her back and has to put in a lot of effort to continue focusing on bell pepper in front of her.

"Tony said dinner was at six?" Daphne glances at the clock on the wall.
"It's actually at seven."
"Ah, so this was a ruse to get me out of the room," she scoffs with a smile.
"Dunno. I mean, he knew I'd be here at six." Peter presses his lips against her temple in a soft kiss, but she winces slightly at the sudden ache jolting through her head. She clutches the knife and Peter immediately lets go of her. "Sorry!" Daphne leans on the counter with both her hands, one of them still holding the knife, and she takes a few breaths.
"It's okay, Pete. Just gotta take it slow." She groans quietly. "Stupid concussion."
"Are you alright? Can I get you anything?" His hand rests gently on her upper arm.
"Just hold me," she sighs as she leans back against him. She frowns again when the pain doesn't seem to go away. "Okay, maybe also a paracetamol."