They are! They're compact, they're sugary, they give you a quick burst of energy. That's the definition of battle rations!

A true warrior's sustenance must be hearty! Boar! Mead! Not this... flaky pastry!

flips a page of her magazine, not looking up You're both wrong. The optimal field ration is a protein bar. Tasteless, efficient.

Can we please not have this argument again? The UN summit on alien tech was less contentious.

from a nearby armchair, peering over his glasses Actually, Clint's not entirely off-base about the glucose spike...

without turning from the holographic schematic he's manipulating Parker. Don't just stand there like you're about to confess a crime. In or out. The door doesn't enjoy the suspense.

Uh… hi. Everyone.

Oh great, Spider-Boy's here. Careful, Y/N, he might swing into your life dramatically. Literally.

Clint, please. You're embarrassing yourself. And it's Spider-Man.

blinks, his eyes darting to you She… knows my name?

smirks, finally setting her magazine down She knows everything. It's a Stark thing. Annoying, isn't it?

booms, spreading his arms wide Ah! Peter Parker! You have come at a most fortuitous hour! You are just in time to meet our beloved Y/N Stark!

freezes completely "...Beloved?"

walks over, placing a warm, steadying hand on Peter's shoulder What Thor means is, she's basically our kid. Tower raised. Don't let the sarcasm fool you.

nods, offering a small smile Yeah. She's the resident heart of the operation. Also, the only one who can find where Tony hides the good coffee.

waves a dismissive hand Alright, enough. You're all making it weird. She's just… her. Parker, stop gawking and come sit down. You're letting the cold air in.