So if you weren't here for the first book in this series (Wither Wings) I highly suggest you go and read it for clarity's sake. If not, I have a handy dandy little catcher upper for you to read.
Maximum Ride, a 2% avian experiment who has suffered heaps of torment at the hands of the School, falls into the care of SHIELD after her entire Flock is annihilated in a heist gone wrong. She is taken in and they have a difficult time rehabilitating her until she is out on patrol and catches wind of a plot brewing. Later on she defeats the villain Mika Arathgor and his creature experiments, but not without a deadly cost. Now, she is a student at NYU and the adoptive daughter of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark.
Some useful information:
-this is set 3 years after Wither Wings
-this includes some minor slash (Rogers/Stark)
-the major ship will be Max/Peter or Pax
-Peter will be played by Andrew Garfield
-Phil Coulson, Thor, Loki, Fury, Maria Hill, and Jane Foster will probably not be appearing unless backed by popular demand
-it will include many fluff scenes including one about chocolate chip pancakes. Yesh :3
It started with a tabloid article.
Maximum Ride slapped the magazine open as she plopped down onto the one free stool left at the local Starbucks. The front depicted a seemingly happy family with the eye catching title "Of Wings, Warriors, And Why New York's Super Couple Decided to Adopt." Tony was on one side and Steve on the other with Max in the middle like a superhero sandwich. Her dads were both kissing her on the cheek, eyes screwed up in the epitome of cute and fluffy love for their adoptive daughter, but Max was rolling her eyes like she couldn't believe how lame they were being. The photographer thought it was daughterly affection, but Steve and Tony knew for a fact that she actually was quite annoyed. Photoshoots were not her thing, and she made that perfectly clear. She would rather smother adorable puppies with plastic bags from Wal-Mart than have the makeup department reapply her lipgloss.
Max took a sip from the hot chocolate she had ordered and immediately sat it back down, her taste buds recoiling. Too sweet, Max reasoned. But the problem was they always made it too sweet, so she wasn't exactly sure why she kept going back to Starbucks. With a sigh, she flipped through the magazine to the article that the tabloid had written.
Underneath the seemingly chaotic lives of Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries, and Steve Rogers, the famous hero Captain America, lies a home life that is as normal as any family's, at least, since the power couple decided to legally adopt their daughter, Maximum.
"We are so blessed to have her in our life," Stark gushed. "She is just what we've been missing."
Max, now a student at NYU, is best known for her notorious wings that give her the ability to fly similar to a bird. She first appeared in media three years ago when…
Max snorted, and flipped through the rest without really giving it any attention. She knew for a fact that wasn't what Tony had said; it was more along the lines, 'If you fuck with her I'll break your face.' Max smirked at the memory, remembering yet again why she loved her dad so much, and also recalling the face the reporter made after he said that. 'Have no fear of the press,' was Tony's sage advice, but it wasn't fear of the people that she had, exactly; it was more of the lawsuits that might follow.
So instead of ripping the magazine to shreds, she shoved it down the breakfast bar, hoping someone else would read and enjoy the watered down tales of the Stark-Rogers family. Picking up her bagel, she took a bite but was never allowed to swallow before a flash went off from outside the window of the Starbucks, shocking her so much she fell out of her seat with a strangled cry and landed squarely on her ass.
"I was hoping to eat that," Max mumbled miserably as she stared at the cream cheese streaking the tile flooring. Eventually she got over it and stood up, dusting off her pants and turning to glare at the paparazzi outside the window, giving them the classic 'I'm watching you' gesture, before picking up her bag and leaving through the front entrance.
Just to clarify this early on, Maximum Ride hates school but loves college. NYU was gorgeous in the fall, especially now since it was early October. She couldn't get enough of it even if she hadn't decided on a major yet. Law? Boring. Science? Bitter. English? Tedious. Nothing really interested her, she just liked to learn, and if college was good for anything, it was learning.
She sat down on a bench in the small park outside the science building after her human anatomy class that only applied to her around 98% and sighed as her stomach rumbled, tilting her head back to look up through the flaming leaves of the large sycamore tree until she heard the click of a camera shutter.
Her head whipped up, but she saw nothing save for some college kids milling around on their way to their next class. Max settled back into the wooden slats of the bench, hoping to waste a little bit of time before she had to head to Interpretation of Film at 11:40, but then it went off again. A little succession of clicks coming from her right and she jumped up, zooming into action as she located the perpetrator and tugged the camera out of his hands, holding it beyond his reach.
"Do you think it's funny, huh? Taking pictures of me?" Max began to get worked up, using the camera to punctuate her point. "What's the caption going to be now? 'Adoptive daughter, Maximum Ride, becomes a hobo?' How would you like it if–" She lowered the camera as she finally got a good look at the guy. His hair was a rich brown, a few tufts sticking out from underneath a navy blue beanie. His breath was visible in the cold, the steam rising to partially obscure his Roman nose and the blood-red blush that was splotched across his cheeks. He was most certainly not the man at Starbucks this morning, and Max was intensely embarrassed because of the fact. "You aren't from US Weekly, are you?" she asked with an awkward cringe.
"I was taking pictures of the tree," he pointed past her at the sycamore, one hand stuffed in his pocket.
"Oh," Max sort of stared at him and blinked, trying to prevent the heat from creeping into her cheeks.
"B-but I could take pictures of you if you, you know, want," he offered with a shrug.
"Uh, no," Max interrupted, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear and casting her eyes downwards. "That won't be necessary."
A pregnant pause came between them before he stuck out his hand with a small, sweet smile and a twinkle in his eye.
"I'm Peter," he said.
"Max…" she replied, shaking his hand, the camera still clutched in her other and quickly becoming freezing cold in the frigid air.
"You look cold," he remarked. "Want to go and get coffee?"
That caught Max off-guard. First she harasses him, now he wants to go and get a warm beverage together? It just didn't add up. She considered herself lucky that she had actually paid attention to Nudge the day she decided to wax poetic about the connotations of the phrase 'do you want to go get coffee?'
Nudge... Just thinking about her made her sad. Nudge would want to see this; she'd slap Max on the shoulder and then recruit Angel for a makeover mission. They'd spend house dolling her up and stuffing her into jeans that were too tight and a tunic that was too short.
Max smiled, and made a decision, no matter how foolish it might be. "Sure," she answered, handing her his camera.
"Thanks," he began walking east, his hands keeping warm in the pockets of his hoodie. "Do you like Starbucks?" Peter asked, his footsteps making impressions on the grass.
"I don't think I am ever going back there," Max shook her head, laughing at her own stupidity.
"Is that what prompted...?" He trailed off, holding up the camera with a soft smile.
"Oh my god," Max groaned, hitting her forehead with an open palm. "Just forget that. Forget everything!"
"Well, I'm good at that," he murmured cynically underneath his breath with a humourless chuckle. "So what are you then? Actress, singer, dancer?"
"Ha!" Max said. "No way, it's just my dads."
"So they're actors, singers, and dancers?" Peter said.
"No. Just," she searched for the right word. "Points of conversation. What about your family?"
"It's just me and my aunt now," Peter said. "I take pictures for the paper to help pay for the house."
"What happened to your parents?"
Peter swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down before answering. "Gone."
It took Max a few seconds before answering. "I never knew mine."
Peter debated putting his arm around Max to comfort her but didn't, keeping his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry," he decided on saying. Not knowing your parents was worse than knowing them, even for a little while.
"Don't be." She passed in front of him and entered the coffee shop.
The place wasn't as packed as she expected it to be, which she was eternally grateful for because she found that ever since she arrived in New York three years ago she felt claustrophobic. The best way to describe the interior of the cafe was 'bustling.' It was a good word, one that Max liked despite the fact that Tony told her it means a busty woman's tits were dancing.
Shaking the image of Tony with breasts from her head, she sat down at a tall bistro table with her bag in her lap, Peter returned with two coffees and a chocolate chip muffin that he split down the centre.
He looked nervous as he cut it with a knife. "I didn't know what kind to get, so I just bought-"
"My favorite," Max said almost to herself, inadvertently finishing the sentence whilst picking up her half with fingerless glove clad hands and placing it on a napkin.
"So am I ever going to find out your last name?" Peter asked, one elbow on the table top.
"That's for me to know and you to eventually find out," she replied and he quirked his eyebrow. "I don't spill my secrets to every stranger I meet."
"But you're pretty good at attacking them." He took a swig of his coffee, mischief dancing in his eyes.
"It's my specialty," Max mumbled through a mouthful of muffin, picking at the crumbs left on the square of light blue.
Glancing at his watch, Peter stood up from his chair with his coffee in hand. "Well, I have to get back to work."
Max looked down at her own and her eyes bugged out, realizing that she would be late for class. "I need to get to film class."
"Wait," Peter touched her elbow to stop her from leaving. "Uh... here," he fumbled in his coat pockets and handed her a slip of paper as they walked out the doors.
"What's this?" Max asked in confusion.
Peter chuckled lightly, trying to dodge an awkward silence. "Er, well, it's my phone number." He rubbed the back of his neck and averted her gaze. "So you can call me." He took off, walked down the opposite stretch of street, and waved. "Bye, Max."
Max gulped with wide eyes. "Bye, Peter..." she whispered.
"She's too happy." Tony crossed his arms with a scowl as Max collapsed on the couch in the living room of the mansion with a dreamy sigh.
"So it's better if she's not happy?" Steve asked as he chunked tomatoes and threw them into the pan to cook for dinner this evening.
"It's a boy." Tony stared at the back of Max's head through the arched doors separating the two rooms as she turned the television on, completely disregarding Steve's question.
"Huh," Steve glanced up from the cutting board. "So that's what a love struck girl looks like. Who knew?"
"I did." Tony wrapped his arms around Steve's waist, resting his head on the back for his soft, light grey t-shirt. "It's what I look like every morning I wake up next to you."
"Perfect answer," Steve twisted around and planted a kiss on Tony's lips, the tomatoes and knife forgotten on the countertop.
The kiss was sweet, like they always were, Tony gaining the upperhand by pressing Steve against the edge of the counters. Their lips were locked firmly for thirty seconds before a pillow was launched at their conjoined faces. They continued to kiss, Tony snatching the pillow out of the air with his eyes closed.
"You two are disgusting," Max said with a horrified look on her face, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. "I have to eat that food you're fornicating over."
"Just makes it taste better, sugar," Tony said, pulling away from a blushing Steve.
Max walked out of the kitchen shaking her head. "I'm ordering takeout!" She hollered back at them.
Well how's that for an introduction? I think Max and Peter might have scared each other to death. Keep in mind, Max isn't used to boys. She hasn't been around Fang in three years and she hasn't been on the run in three years, so she's gotten a little bit soft. That should explain any faint whiff of OOC coming from Max.
And the question of the day is...
How should Max and Peter meet up next and what should they do?
So comment, vote, review, and tell my your input!
-Acca