Too much chaos.

by Taylors_roses

Summary:

The Avengers are having dinner together, and everything is chaotic.

(Or: Thor brings a goat, Clint accidentally kills it, Natasha interrogates Peter, Captain America destroys a window, Peter accidentally wields Mjolnir, and Tony accidentally gives Peter caffeine, which causes even more chaos.)

Notes:

This is so chaotic, and just writing it was chaos. This fic is all over the place. (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)

Song of the oneshot: Shake it off- Taylor Swift.

Peter stood in front of the mirror, nerves twisting his stomach into knots. Tonight was the big night, his first official Avengers dinner. Sure, he’d met the team a handful of times during missions or quick drop-ins, but a relaxed dinner with all of them? That was a whole different level of terrifying. Tony had promised it would be peaceful, just some casual chatting and good food. But honestly? Peter wasn’t convinced.

 

He was currently in the room Tony had set up for him when they adopted him, a little sanctuary filled with familiar things and a giant Stark Industries-branded bean bag. Without this safe zone, Peter probably would’ve chickened out entirely.

 

“Good evening, Peter. Boss would like me to inform you that the Avengers have arrived,” Friday’s calm voice broke the silence, echoing in the room.

 

“Thanks, Friday. I’ll be right there,” Peter replied, trying to steady his voice.

 

He opened the door and immediately caught the chaotic buzz from down the hall. As he approached the dining room, multiple pairs of eyes locked onto him simultaneously.

 

“Greetings, Peter, ruler of spiders!” Thor boomed, striding forward with a wide grin. That’s when Peter noticed what was tucked under Thor’s arm: a huge, white goat staring daggers at everyone like it wanted to start a civil war.

 

“Oh, hey, Mr. Thor,” Peter said nervously, glancing between the goat and the god of thunder.

 

Tony sighed dramatically. “Seriously, Thor? A goat? Did you have to bring a goat?”

 

“This is no ordinary goat, Sir Stark,” Thor declared proudly, ruffling the goat’s fur. “This is the Prince of Asgard.”

 

Tony just blinked and then sighed again, turning to the rest of the Avengers. “Alright, let’s just sit down and eat before the goat starts charging at someone.”

 

They all scrambled toward the dining table, and Peter found himself squeezed between Tony and Thor, both intimidating in very different ways. Not nearly as intimidating as Natasha, who was currently studying him like he was a fascinating yet slightly suspicious science experiment.

 

The conversation started off like any other Avengers gathering, mission debriefs, battle stories, and enough technical jargon to make Peter’s head spin. Then, out of nowhere, Clint announced, “Hey, I wanna show you all a new arrow I made myself!”

 

Clint stood up suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Check this out,” he said proudly, pulling an arrow with a bright red tip from his quiver and grabbing his bow from where it was slung across his back. “This baby’s laced with poison. One hit and the target suffers a brutal, agonizing death. Isn’t it cool?”

 

He beamed like a kid at show-and-tell, while the rest of the Avengers collectively leaned back in their chairs, inching away from him and the potentially lethal weapon now gleaming under the dining room light.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be waving that thing around
indoors, Clint?” Bruce suggested, slowly scooting his chair farther from the table, eyeing the arrow like it might explode.

 

Clint waved him off casually. “Don’t worry, guys. I’ve got it under control. Also, look how smooth the aim is—” He lifted the bow and began to demonstrate, drawing the arrow back and aiming it toward an empty corner of the room.

 

Tony’s eyes widened in alarm. “Clint, don’t do that inside.”

 

“It’s fine, it’s not like I’m actually gonna shoo—”

 

TWANG!

 

The arrow slipped from Clint’s fingers mid-sentence, slicing clean across the room and embedding itself directly into the goat Thor had brought, right in the eye.

 

There was a collective gasp.

 

Peter screamed and instinctively launched himself up onto the ceiling, clinging there in pure horror. “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!”

 

“NOOOOO!” Thor bellowed, rushing to his goat. “You have slain Prince Thorfleim, heir to the Eastern Highlands!”

 

Clint froze, eyes wide. “Oh my God. I killed a royal goat.”

 

Natasha facepalmed hard. “We can’t have one normal dinner. Not one.”

 

Clint looked between the goat and the arrow “Should we call a vet or—?”

 

“You shot the goat in the face, Barton. I think we’re past that,” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples.

 

The goat let out a dramatic groan and flopped to the side. Peter was still clinging to the ceiling like a panicked cat, eyes wide as saucers.

 

Thor knelt beside the goat, placing a hand on its fluffy forehead. “He was a warrior. He died with honor. He shall dine in Valhalla tonight.”

 

“Can we please go back to the part where Clint brought a poisoned arrow to dinner?” Tony snapped.

 

Clint shrugged helplessly. “It wasn’t supposed to… fire.”

 

“So, what exactly do you do on patrol, Spider-Boy?” Natasha suddenly asked, glancing up at Peter from across the table, completely ignoring the goat lying dramatically on the floor, the heartbroken Thor cradling it like Hamlet with Yorick, and the utterly panicked Clint, who was currently attempting CPR on the very obviously deceased goat.

 

Peter’s eyes widened slightly. His spider-senses weren’t tingling, but his “Oh no, the Black Widow is talking to me” senses were going off the charts. He wasn’t sure if he should respond or just crawl into the ventilation system and live there now.

 

“Uhm… I’m just your friendly neighborhood SpiderMan,” he said nervously, voice cracking a little as he clung to the ceiling. Slowly, he let go with one hand, then the other, landing gently back in his chair like he hadn’t just been clinging to the architecture like a nervous gecko.

 

“Define ‘friendly,’” Natasha said coolly, narrowing her eyes like she was moments away from waterboarding him with her wine.

 

“I just-uh-I just help people who are getting mugged, or like, stop carjackings? Sometimes I help old ladies cross the street? I- I don’t know,” Peter stammered, his words tangling into each other like spaghetti.

 

“And why should I believe tha—”

 

“Natasha, stop interrogating my kid,” Tony cut in, raising his voice just slightly.

 

“Wait, your kid?” Steve asked, turning to stare at Tony, completely dumbfounded.

 

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you? I adopted Peter, like, months ago,” Tony replied casually, sipping his wine like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb.

 

Silence.

 

Complete and utter silence.

 

Every Avenger turned to look at Tony like he’d sprouted a second arc reactor in the middle of his forehead. Even Thor paused mid-wail, mid-eulogy, the goat forgotten in his lap.

 

Then all chaos broke out.

 

“What do you mean you adopted him?!” Bruce nearly choked on his drink.

 

“You can’t just adopt SpiderMan!” Sam exclaimed.

 

“Can you legally do that?” Clint added, still kneeling beside the goat, now clearly beyond saving.

 

“Why did you not tell us of this glorious adoption?!” Thor demanded, rising from his knees like a man reborn.

 

“Why does that make so much sense though?” Wanda muttered to no one in particular.

 

Peter just sat there, frozen, unsure whether to feel touched, horrified, or to web himself to the ceiling and wait this whole thing out.

 

Tony groaned and set his glass down. “Well, I was going to make it official with a toast and everything, but nooo, let’s just yell about it.”

 

Steve blinked. “This dinner is nothing like the ones we used to have.”

 

“Yeah,” Natasha muttered, side-eyeing Clint. “There weren’t goats back then.”

 

“And fewer poison arrows,” Bruce added dryly.

 

Peter slowly reached for a breadstick, whispering to himself, “Why can’t i just have one normal night?”

 

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the room as a window shattered spectacularly across the dining area. Everyone’s heads whipped around to see Steve, standing sheepishly with his shield flying through the now-empty glass frame like it had a mind of its own.

 

“Uh, sorry, Tony,” Steve mumbled, cheeks flushing pink as the shield whizzed back into his hand with a perfect catch. “I meant to set it down gently on the floor. Didn’t expect it to fly through the window.”

 

Tony groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes like he was trying to will the disaster away. “Oh my fucking God,” he muttered. “How many Stark windows does it take before you stop breaking them, Rogers?”

 

Bruce just stared at Steve, mouth slightly open. “What just happened?”

 

“I was going for a soft landing,” Steve said, shrugging awkwardly. “Next time, maybe I’ll just carry it like a normal person.”

 

Wanda rolled her eyes and muttered, “Can we please have one dinner where nothing gets destroyed?”

 

Sam, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of meat, nodded. “Yeah, one dinner without someone nearly killing a goat, breaking windows, or setting off poison arrows would be nice.”

 

Peter glanced around the wreckage with wide eyes: blood splattered on the floor and walls from the goat, shards of glass glittering everywhere, a shattered vase, and a chair with a missing leg. His stomach twisted. This was not the peaceful dinner he’d prepared himself for.

 

“Agreed,” he whispered, staring at the chaos. “Can we maybe just order pizza next time?”

 

“That’s a great idea, Man of Spiders!” Thor bellowed enthusiastically, momentarily forgetting about his fallen goat and the chaos surrounding them.

 

Peter was just about to reach for some sauce when, out of nowhere, something hurtled straight into his outstretched hand with surprising force. The unexpected impact knocked him clean off his chair, sending him tumbling backwards into the nearby wall with a loud thud. A chorus of shocked gasps and shouts erupted from the Avengers, Tony leaping up immediately, eyes wide with concern.

 

“Ouch…” Peter mumbled, still clutching the mysterious object as he pushed himself up from the cracked wall, dusting off the rubble stuck to his shirt.

 

Looking down, Peter’s eyes widened. In his palm was Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir. It was much lighter than he’d expected, cool and smooth in his hand, yet completely surreal. Why had it suddenly flown into his grasp? Before he could fully process, he muttered, “Ugh, control your hammer, Thor.”

 

The room froze. Every Avenger’s gaze locked onto him in stunned silence. Tony’s mouth hung open like he’d just witnessed a ghost, Thor’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, and the rest of the team looked as though they were moments away from fainting. Even Natasha, ever composed, seemed caught off guard.

 

“Uh, what’s wrong? Did I lose an arm or something?” Peter joked nervously, glancing down at his limbs, making sure everything was still attached, thankfully, it was.

 

A heavy pause settled over the room, broken suddenly by Thor’s booming voice, “He is worthy!”

 

Peter blinked, chuckling awkwardly. “Uh, what?”

 

He slowly rose, brushing bits of debris from his clothes “I’m not really sure what you mean, or why everyone’s staring at me like I just hacked into Stark Industries.”

 

Thor clapped loudly, his face lighting up like he’d just won the lottery, or the entire universe. “He is worthy! He is the next ruler of Asgard!”

 

Thor began an exuberant dance, practically prancing around the dining room, loudly proclaiming Peter’s “
worthiness” to anyone within earshot.

 

Peter sighed and lowered himself back into his chair. “Haha… sure…”

 

Before he could settle back in, Tony’s serious voice cut through the chaos. “Peter.”

 

Peter looked up, meeting Tony’s intense gaze. “Uh, yeah?”

 

“No one but Thor can lift that hammer,” Tony said flatly. “I’ve tried. Couldn’t even budge it.”

 

Peter’s eyes widened again. “Wait… you’re telling me I’m worthy? Like, worthy worthy?”

 

Tony nodded. “Yeah, kid. That hammer doesn’t just let anyone pick it up. You’re on a whole different level.”

 

Peter stared down at the hammer in his hand, still unsure whether to be honored or terrified.

 

Meanwhile, Thor kept prancing around, loudly declaring, “The Spider-King rises!” as the rest of the Avengers exchanged looks ranging from amused to downright bewildered.

 

Peter was trying his best to blend in, sitting quietly between Tony and Thor, hoping the dinner would settle into something resembling normalcy. After the hammer fiasco, things were already off to a wild start, but Tony had promised he’d keep things “under control.”

 

Tony, being Tony, also wanted to make sure Peter was alert enough to keep up. So when he offered Peter a cup of coffee, Peter, not much of a caffeine drinker, hesitated. Tony waved it off. “Don’t worry, kid. It’s decaf. Stark Industries special blend. Totally safe.”

 

Peter took a tentative sip.

Five minutes later…

 

Peter’s leg was bouncing uncontrollably under the table. His eyes flicked rapidly, his fingers drumming a frantic rhythm on the table. He had gone from quiet observer to a jittery ball of energy so fast it could have broken the sound barrier.

 

“I feel… weird,” Peter muttered, voice slightly higher pitched.

 

Tony glanced over, grinning. “Ah, you’re just getting warmed up. That’s the Stark special.”

 

Peter’s web shooters started clicking involuntarily, shooting webs into the air above the table like a spider-powered machine gun. “Guys, I uh think I might have had too much caffeine?”

 

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Too much? You’re bouncing off the walls like a ping-pong ball.”

 

Clint, from across the table, chuckled, “He’s like a squirrel on espresso.”

 

Peter jumped up suddenly, spinning on the spot, nearly knocking Thor’s chair over.

 

Thor raised a brow. “Is this part of your ‘friendly neighborhood’ spider routine? Spinning like a tornado?”

 

Peter’s words came out in a rush, “No! No tornado! Just, my brain is going so fast I can’t stop! I’m seeing double! My heart’s racing! I don’t think I can sit still for five seconds!”

 

Tony laughed. “Relax, kid, it’s all normal. You just got the full Stark Industries coffee experience. You’ll be good in a few hours.”

 

Peter looked around desperately. “A few hours?! I’ve got to go patrol! I can’t be bouncing off walls all night!”

 

Wanda smirked. “Well, at least he’s not fainting or breaking windows. Yet.”

 

As Peter darted around the room in a caffeine-fueled frenzy, webbing random objects, talking a mile a minute, and accidentally launching a chair across the room, Tony just shook his head, muttering, “Oops.”

 

Peter was bouncing off the walls, literally. His leg jiggled nonstop, and his fingers tapped out rapid-fire rhythms on the table. His eyes darted around like a hummingbird on steroids, and every few seconds he launched another stray web into the air.

 

“Okay, everyone, Operation Calm Down the Spider-Kid is officially underway,” Natasha announced, arms crossed, eyeing Peter like he was a ticking time bomb.

 

Tony rubbed his temples, pacing. “I swear I said it was decaf. It was decaf… wasn’t it?”

 

Bruce stepped forward, adjusting his glasses. “I’m running some quick blood tests. His heart rate is through the roof.”

 

Clint chuckled. “He’s like a kid on Halloween sugar. Remember when I let my niece drink a whole energy drink? This is worse.”

 

Wanda floated nearby, amused but concerned. “Maybe we should dim the lights? Create a calm atmosphere?”

 

Sam pulled Peter aside gently. “Hey, man, how about some deep breathing? Like, slow inhales, slow exhales.”

 

Peter tried, but after two breaths, he was already tapping his foot again. “I can’t! My brain’s racing!”

 

Thor looked fascinated. “Is this how mortals summon thunder with energy?”

 

Tony grabbed a glass of water and tossed it to Peter, who caught it mid-web shot.

 

“Hydrate, kid. Might help.”

 

Peter gulped the water, but then he jumped up, accidentally kicking a chair. “Oops!”

 

“Sit down!” Natasha snapped.

 

“Maybe a little physical activity will help burn it off?” Steve suggested cautiously.

 

Peter shot him a wild-eyed look. “You mean patrol? I can’t focus enough to do that safely!”

 

“Too much caffeine, Peter,” Tony muttered. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you through this.”

 

Wanda sighed and waved her hands, casting a calming illusion of gentle waves and soft music. The room’s energy shifted slightly.

 

Peter’s tapping slowed. His breathing steadied. His eyes focused. Slowly, the hyperactive jitteriness drained away, replaced with exhausted relief.

 

“Thanks, Wanda…” Peter mumbled, collapsing back into his chair.

 

Tony smirked. “Next time, decaf means decaf.”

 

“Yeah, and next time let’s not bring a goat to dinner.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of Irondad fics.