Sam Silverman's POV
I know this is war, but the rest of us are trying to pretend it's a party.
– Kristin Cashor, Fire
". . . And with that, I welcome you to the first Masquerade ball. Please enjoy the night – and remember to make a donation!"
I stepped off the stage amid thunderous applause, nearly tripping over my dress. Was that Johnny Depp in the front row of the audience?
Tonight was the night – the ball. Oh, god. I had been both fearing and looking forward to this for a long time now. It wasn't much – just a masquerade party – but the proceeds went to charity. And I had just made my first-ever public speech as Masquerade, welcoming everyone and giving them a brief history of the Avengers, along with trying to incite them to donate to charity and thanking them for coming.
There were so many people here, it was ridiculous. A-list celebrities filled the room, along with various politicians and world leaders and people who actually made a difference in the world. If Ghandi or Abraham Lincoln were alive, they would be here. It was that kind of party. And it was my party.
Janet Van Dyne was there to greet me when I stepped off the stage. She looked stunning in a gold-and-black number that she had designed a Venetian mask over her face. I wore my original Masquerade mask, of course (it had taken us a while to remove all the bloodstains from it), and a purple gown that Jan had designed as well. As Masquerade, I was the party hostess, and had the difficult job of both trying to look elegant and still look like a superhero.
"You were wonderful, dear!" Janet gushed, pulling me into a tight hug. "Fantastic! The audience loved you. I think I even saw the members of One Direction, unable to take their gorgeous British eyes off you. The speech was riveting."
"Oh, stop it," I snorted. "But – really? One Direction's here?"
"Yes. Why? Are you a fan?"
I frowned. "No."
Janet laughed. "Come on, dear. Turn that frown upside-down, and go mingle! The public wants to meet a superhero. Since, you know, you're technically the only one here."
I blushed. We had organized this party so that I really was the only superhero: everyone else was walking around in their alter egos, like Steve, who had to pretend to be, well, Steve. I was the only hero wearing a costume. Maybe that was part of the allure of the party; the reason everyone was mingling and socializing so much. Because they knew that the Avengers were here – they were just dressed as normal people. You never knew; the person who you accidentally walked into could secretly be the Hulk.
There were exceptions to the no-hero rule, of course, like Tony. He didn't need the Iron Man suit; everyone knew who he was. Same with Thor, although we had managed to get the god into a grey tuxedo so that he at least looked presentable.
And then there were others, who couldn't help it - like the Thing. We had invited the Fantastic Four, of course, and some superhero costumes you just couldn't hide.
I walked out onto the floor, where tables were set up around the edges of the room and there was a slightly raised stage on the south side. The masquerade – which Janet had organized – was being held at the Plaza Inn near Central Park; the walls were decorated gold and white, and everything was draped in light purple cloth: Masquerade's signature color. Guests mingled on the floor – for the time being, the entertainment was Lana Del Rey, a smooth old-Hollywood type singer who I was a huge fan of. As the night wore on, she'd be replaced by an orchestra that people could actually dance to; maybe they'd even play some Christmas music. It depended how the night wore on.
I entered the crowd, looking around. It was difficult to tell who was who, because it was a masquerade party – everyone wore masks. I bumped into Clint and Natasha by accident on my way to find someone to talk to; both of them looked incredibly awkward and out-of-place. I rolled my eyes and sent them over to the food table.
That was where I found The Thing – Ben Grimm – eating all the fruit. I sauntered over to him, frowning; embarrassed, he wiped his face on the tablecloth. Great.
"Uh, hello," he said, his voice very deep. "Nice to meet you, Masquerade. Great party."
"And great food, too," I raised my eyebrow. The Thing, who was famous for his catchphrase of "It's Clobberin' Time!" was one-fourth of the Fantastic Four. His entire body – well, his skin, at least – was made of some sort of orange rock.
A man slipped over to stand beside Ben, and I'll admit it, he was pretty hot. But I could tell that he knew he was hot, which made him seem like a complete douchebag. As I discovered, I was right.
"Hey," he winked at me, pushing past Ben. "I'm Johnny Storm."
"The Human Torch," I nodded.
"Hell yes," he grinned crookedly. "And might I say, Masquerade, I think I've got the hots for you." He raised his hand, and tiny flames danced along the tips of his fingers. "What say you and I find ourselves a cozy closet once this party's over?"
I almost felt bad for Johnny Storm – because right then, Steve walked up behind me. It was also at that moment that I noticed a dark-haired, dark-eyed, but very pale man standing in the shadows of the room against the wall, watching.
"This kid bothering you?" Steve said in my ear, but it was loud enough for Johnny to hear.
"Back off, Blondie. I'm trying to talk to the lady," he said; behind him, Ben continued to stuff his face with food.
Steve looked down his nose at Johnny. It was uncanny, how similar they looked. "Well, you might want to try being a bit more respectful, before you get hurt." The man against the wall with the long, pale face kept staring – and it made me glad that Steve was standing so near. He creeped me out completely.
Johnny raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? I'm the Human Torch, buddy," he pushed Steve. "Last I checked, no one's going to hurt me for talking to a girl."
"Last I checked," Steve countered, "this girl was dating Captain America."
Ben Grimm began to laugh. I winked at Johnny, and nodded at Ben. "Nice meeting you boys. Ben – enjoy the food. And Johnny, seriously? The womanizer act isn't working."
Ben continued to laugh as Steve and I walked away.
"I could've handled that on my own," I murmured under my breath.
Steve frowned. "I'm sorry, Sam, I just didn't want to see him-"
"Who's that man over there?" I changed the subject abruptly, looking back at the dark-eyed man who was still staring at me. "He won't look away, and it's really starting to freak me out. Do we know him?" I instinctively moved closer to Steve.
He didn't even have to glance over to know who I was talking about. "That's Frank Castle. Don't worry about him, Sam. He won't hurt you."
". . . He's still staring!"
"Stop worrying, honey. Just don't think about it," said Steve, although I noticed he was leading me away from the food table. Whether it was because of Johnny Storm or Frank Castle, I didn't know.
"Is he dangerous? I'm serious, Steve, he's really freaking me out, and I don't remember him being on the guest list-"
"He's highly dangerous, Sam. That's the Punisher."
My eyes widened. "The Punisher? Here? At the party?" I squeaked.
Steve changed the subject. "Sam, I can't hang around you when you're dressed as Masquerade. People are going to get suspicious – and besides, reporters are looking for Tony's daughter. He financed the party, so it's expected she'll show up. Go get changed, will you?"
". . . Yeah," I said absentmindedly, branching off from him to head to the closet I had stored my other dress in. I was going to be playing dress-up the entire night, flipping between two dresses and two personas, just so I could hide my identity. Janet had specifically designed two dresses that were easy to change into for me, and I had two Venetian masks to hide my face. Hopefully, this would work.
But for the time being, my mind was stuck on the Punisher – Frank Castle. God, it was terrifying to know he was here. I wouldn't call the Punisher a hero, exactly . . . but he wasn't a villain, either. He just believed in punishment rather than justice, and thus the name Punisher – he hunted down and brutally murdered criminals, rather than handing them over to law enforcement or even giving them a quick and painless ending. He only worked for himself, too, and only killed those he thought deserved –
I walked right into someone, and that really fricking annoyed me, because although I had been lost in thought, I had been watching where I was going. No – this person had literally teleported to right in front of me.
I looked at them, frowning. "You know, this is a masquerade ball, not a costume party," I said. He wore a full red spandex body suit and mask, with black accents here and there, and black sides; the large areas around his eyes were black, too, a bit like Spider-Man's costume. Strapped to his back were two huge swords, and multiple guns were attached to his waist.
". . . And all weapons were supposed to be confiscated at the door," my eyes widened.
"Name's Deadpool, Wade Wilson, or the Merc with a Mouth!" he chirped. "Great to finally meet you, Masqueradie. Wish I could've seen you in the comics, but, well, you're not in them. Too bad. I'm a huge fan."
". . . What?"
"Maybe you've heard of me. I got my powers from Weapon X – your buddy Logan Howlett, er, Wolverine, he was part of that. We put a lot of money and time and sharp pointy things into him, only to have him run away. Ungrateful bastard. It was so boring without him there."
"Sorry, but you're not making any sense," I blanched.
"I just wanted to meet you, Masquie, that's all," Deadpool said happily. "Now, can I have some money? For candy?"
"I'm not letting you buy candy."
"Money for . . . non-candy?"
"Who the hell are you?" I screwed up my face in confusion.
"I'm the best mercenary in the Marvel universe, and the best one you'll ever meet in your entire life – which ends in chapter 24 of this story, actually," said Deadpool.
"Excuse me?"
"Oops! Spoiler alert!" his hands flew to where his mouth was hiding behind his mask. "I tend to break the fourth wall a lot," Deadpool mock-whispered.
"Um . . ."
"I'll be going now. Nice to meet you though, Masquie! Have a nice life – we should really team up sometime," he winked, and then suddenly, he was gone. The only explanation was teleportation – but this Deadpool guy's entire appearance left me so confused that I just tried to block it out of my brain.
I slipped out of the ballroom, into a side closet that Jan had helped me pick out earlier. In it was a simple, conservative black-and-white dress that went up to my neck – I was trying to get rid of that playboy bunny image. I pinned up my hair in a twist, and walked back into the ballroom. Janet pounced on me like a cat as soon as I was there, though, her eyes wide and worried.
"You forgot your mask, Sam," she scolded. "You're still wearing your Masquerade mask. Go grab that silver one we got you."
"Shit. Thanks," I squeezed her hand, then ran back to change.
Five minutes later, I was standing by Tony Stark's side, helping entertain guests. God, this night was such a whirlwind of confusion – change this, change that, don't forget this. As much as I loved pretending to be Tony's daughter (that was sarcasm), I needed some space. Especially after that weird Deadpool confrontation. I mentioned it to Tony, and he nodded, signalling I could go. As I walked towards the exit doors, I passed Thor, talking to the president about penguins. I winked at him as I passed by, shaking my head.
Although I was planning on going outside for just a moment to clear my head, I was stopped by a commotion at the door. "My name's supposed to be on that list," a young man with brown hair was saying. "Peter Parker. I'm a photographer for the Daily Bugle."
"Look, kid. That's great. But I'm only allowed to let in the people on the list – and you're not here," the security guard said, looking down at a sheet of paper. "It says the photographer for the Bugle is Stan Lee."
"Yeah, but he called in sick," the Parker kid pleaded.
"You got any identification?"
Peter Parker pulled out a Student ID card – he was still a high school student!
The guard laughed in his face.
"Please, let me in, Jonah J. Jameson is going to kill me if I don't get some pictures," he pleaded. "I'm the guy who takes the photos for Spider-Man, so he sent me to catch some of Masquerade-"
"Spider-Man?" I said under my breath, stepping closer and examining the boy more closely. Now that I thought about it . . . his voice was the same as the wall-crawler's. Same height and body build, too. He couldn't . . .
I pretended to walk past them, but then "accidentally" bumped into Peter Parker, causing him to drop his camera. He caught it mid-fall like a ninja, with reflexes way too amazing to be human.
"Samantha Silverman!" he exclaimed when he saw me, smiling.
"Have we met?" I raised an eyebrow, at the same time as the guard said "No, this is Samantha Stark."
Peter Parker realized his mistake, looking between me and the guard. I knew what he was thinking: he needed in to the party, and I was his ticket. He knew I was Masquerade – I had needed to reveal my identity to him when Spider-Man and I first met. Now, if this young reporter gave me a clue, a hint to work with, something to prove he was Spider-Man and not just some creep . . . I'd let him in, for sure.
The young kid paused for a moment, thinking, and then said, "Hey – I think we should be best friends."
I grinned hugely. Yep – this was Spider-Man. High-school-er Peter Parker was New York City's famous web-slinger. I had said that same "best friend" thing to him when we first ran into each other, back in May.
"You know, it's a Masquerade ball. You kind of need a mask," I said. "I think . . . red and blue would compliment you, no?"
He smiled, and I turned to the guard. "Let him in. He's with me." The guard frowned, shrugged, and then moved aside to let us back into the ballroom.
"Thanks," Peter said once we were out of the guard's earshot, "although I guess my cover's blown now, huh?"
"Pretty much," I said nonchalantly. "But – you're a high school student? No wonder Tony won't let you join the Avengers – you're too goddamn young!"
"If I'm correct," Peter said, "you were still in high school when you started as Masquerade. Besides: with great power comes great responsibility."
"Whatever you say," I sighed. "You're a good kid, Spidey. I don't want to see you getting hurt. For the – what – ten minutes I've known you? I've actually grown to like you."
"Aw, shucks. You're making me blush," he said cheekily, snapping a few pictures.
". . . But I'll put in a word to Tony anyway. You do want to join the Avengers, right?"
"More than anything!" he said, pointing his camera at me. "Smile!"
I stuck my tongue out.
My eyes focused on something over his shoulder: the bar. There was a lone man sitting there, drinking a large glass of probably alcohol; everyone else avoided him like the plague. He wasn't dressed for the party, and his mutton chops were unshaved; his face depressed. I recognized that man.
"Hey, it's Wolverine," I blurted out. Peter Parker whipped around, his face excited.
"Really? Where?" He spotted Logan sitting by himself at the bar and rushed over. "Oh my god, this is so cool. Can I get your autograph?" I heard him say as I followed after.
"Fuck off," Logan Howlett – Wolverine – said gruffly.
"I'm a huge fan. Your work with the X-Men is amazing."
"I said, fuck off."
"Peter!" I snapped, grabbing his wrist and tugging him away; Logan spotted me and nodded.
"Samantha. Good to see you're doing fine."
"Your son's not here, is he?" I asked, a moment of sheer panic setting in.
Logan snorted. "No."
I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Thank God."
There was a long silence, before I decided that I needed to talk to him. I shooed Peter off in the general direction of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, before taking a seat beside Logan.
"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.
"Actually . . ." my mouth went dry, as I realized it was probably best to just leave Logan alone. Ah, hell, I was here now. "I wanted to know why you saved me, back in Rome. You didn't know me. You didn't like Tony or Clint. But you came and hauled my ass out of there anyway. You said it was because you owed Tony a favor . . . ?" Back in Rome, Tony and Clint had staged an intervention to get me away from Daken, Wolverine's son, but they had needed to call in Wolverine and get him to take care of his son.
He slammed his drink down on the counter. "Bullshit. I just said that to get you to stop asking me questions."
My eyebrows creased. "Then why'd you fly all the way out to Rome?"
Logan sighed. "Do I really have to answer this?"
"Sure."
The boy serving the drinks re-filled Logan's glass. "I felt responsible for my son. I needed to take care of him – set him back on the right path, I don't know. He was a threat that needed to be removed from the world. You just happened to be in the way." I thought of Daken – dark, dangerous, alluring, a rising villain. Wolverine had cut out Daken's claws when he found us in Rome.
"Right. Well, thank you," I said, getting up from my seat awkwardly. "You saved my life."
"There's another reason, Samantha. Sit back down," he ordered, and I complied right away. ". . . Now, don't tell Tony this."
"Don't worry."
"The thing was," Logan stared down at his drink, "I understood him. He came to me in a complete panic, knowing that it was my son who had caused all the problems. And I could relate to him because for me, there was this girl – Marie. She was like my daughter. It was the same sort of relationship you and Tony have." He looked over at me out of the corner of his eyes. "You may have heard of her as the X-Man Rogue." I nodded slowly. "Yeah. She was like my daughter. And so it wasn't hard for me to figure out why Tony felt so panicked. I could relate to him," Logan frowned. "And if Marie was in trouble, I'd do anything to save her. I just . . . put myself in Tony's place. It was a no-brainer, really."
"Wow," I said, legitimately surprised. "Thanks. I really mean it – thank you."
"Great. Now you fuck off, too."
"Oh-kay."
I left, a bit of a silly smile on my face as I tracked down Peter, standing by the stage. "Well, he was a ray of sunshine," Peter said, fiddling with his camera settings.
"Yeah, he doesn't go out of his way to make friends," I sighed. I didn't know Logan that well, but it was he who had saved me from Daken back in Rome, almost exactly a year ago. And beneath that terribly rough exterior, I did believe he really was a nice guy.
"Sammy!" Tony suddenly said, appearing out of nowhere and slinging an arm around me. "How's my favorite daughter doing?"
I faked a cough, trying to hide my laugh.
"Who's this?" Tony asked, peering at Peter. "A hero friend of yours?"
I frowned, lying through my teeth. "No . . . why?"
"Because I hear Daredevil's at this party," Tony whispered in my ear. Daredevil was a new superhero that had appeared in New York City recently; one that Tony was intent on finding, no matter the cost.
"Why don't you just let Daredevil be?" I sighed. "He's a hero. We need as many of them in this city as we can get. You're going to scare him off!"
A man suddenly bumped into us from behind; Tony turned to probably mouth off at him, but was stopped when he saw the blind cane and dark sunglasses. "I'm sorry," the man apologized, going to move away.
"Who're you?" Tony asked rudely.
"Matt Murdock," he said without a second's pause, as if he knew it was coming.
"And how the hell did you get in here?" But the blind man just shuffled off, ignoring Tony's question.
The billionaire sighed, turning back to me. "Have fun, kids!" he said, clearly already drunk as he slipped away.
Peter stared after him open-mouthed. "Oh God, please don't go asking for another autograph," I shook my head, but I was smiling.
"But – it's – Tony Stark!" he gasped.
". . . I get the feeling you're a bit of a nerd."
He nodded, snapping a picture of Tony's receding back.
"Well, Peter, I hope you don't mind, but I need to slip away," I said. "The party guests are probably wondering where Masquerade is. I'll see you later, okay?"
Five minutes later, I was back in the Masquerade dress and mask, walking around and dealing with celebrities who asked for my picture. It was weird to see star-struck stars.
I found Tony, Bruce and Hank, talking to an attractive middle-aged couple. They were introduced to me immediately: it was the other half of the fantastic four, Reed and Susan Richards (Mr. Fantastic and the Invisible Woman, respectively). Susan was Johnny Storm's sister, but thank God, she was nothing like him.
"It's an honor to meet you," I laughed, astonished that I was being introduced to so many people at this one party. "Can you believe it? We've got the four smartest minds in the world – right here, all together. Reed Richards, Bruce Banner, Hank Pym and Tony Stark," I whistled lowly.
Peter – who was trailing behind me – jumped up. "How about a picture?"
A bunch of photographers suddenly manifested right on cue.
While the men were posing for the cameras, I stood aside with Susan, a pretty blonde woman. "You still dating Captain America?" she asked, without any preamble.
I blushed, thinking of the photograph that made our relationship famous – a picture of Cap and Masquerade kissing, taken after the battle in Central Park. "Yes. Why?"
"Good luck. That's all," she shrugged, staring at her husband. "Take it from someone who's been there – dating a fellow superhero is really, really hard."
"Why's that?"
She sighed, looking at her feet. "Well, for one thing, there's the worry. You never know if he's going to come back alive; if either of you will. Your personal life is constantly being interrupted by hero business. Villains will use him against you, as either a hostage or a minion. And then – if you take it a step further – there's the matter of family," she sounded sad. "You can have kids, but you don't know what they'll turn out like. Will they have powers? Will they be controllable?" I thought of Daken. "They'll most likely be put in the superhero cross-fire, too. Children are too easy to manipulate or kidnap," she shook her head. "I guess I'm trying to warn you. There's a long road ahead," she finally turned to look at me. "I wish you the best of luck. You and Cap will need it."
I frowned. "But there are advantages, too, aren't there?" Susan stayed quiet. "At least you know they can take care of themselves. I never have to worry about Cap if he's walking through a nasty neighborhood. And they understand you – it would be too hard to try to date someone normal, who isn't on your level. Dating someone normal would also put them in jeopardy – jeopardy that a fellow hero's already in anyway. You'd be risking a normal person's life, and they'd have no way to defend themselves, whereas a hero at least has a chance." I took a deep breath "And as for family . . . well, I suppose that's a bit of a gamble, you're right."
I smiled at Susan. "I know your intentions are good, but you can't warn me away from Cap. I love him, and we've talked about it – we're willing to take the risks, because we believe in the end, it'll be worth it."
Susan smiled widely. "Right answer. But – does he know?"
"Know what?"
"That you love him."
"I . . . no," I admitted.
Susan took a sharp breath in through her nose as the men came back to join us. "You'd best tell him soon. You never know when everything could change."
Speaking of changing, I excused myself so I could change back to being Sam – I had the sudden urge to see Steve.
After I was back in my other black dress, it only took me a few minutes to locate Peter, who was basically acting as my sidekick for the night. Not long afterwards I found Steve, talking to a thin, curvy woman with curly blonde hair. She was gorgeous, I'll admit it, and it sparked a bit of jealousy in me – but she was wearing an official military uniform rather than an actual ball gown, and I knew Steve well enough to understand that he was talking to her simply because she was a fellow soldier from this day and age. So far, he hadn't had much contact with the army he used to be a part of.
"Samantha," Steve nodded, smiling when he saw me; he put an arm around my waist as Peter stood back, snapping pictures. "Let me introduce you to Major Carol Danvers," he looked at the blonde woman.
"Samantha Stark, I assume," she said politely. "I was invited here as a representative of the United States Air Force – I'm a pilot in the army."
"Right. Nice to meet you," I smiled, deciding right then and there that I rather liked this woman.
"Well, I'd best be off," she admitted apologetically. "I don't want to hold you two back from meeting other guests."
Once Carol was gone, I couldn't help it: I threw my arms around Steve's neck and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. His face turned red, since he was surprised at the sudden attention – but I was just so happy to see him. My quick chat with Susan had reminded me of all the reasons I loved him.
I watched Peter's face change as the gears in his head worked away. Steve was tall and muscular . . . and Samantha Silverman's apparent boyfriend, judging by the kiss. And Captain America was tall and muscular . . . and Masquerade's boyfriend . . .
Peter figured out that Steve was Cap, and didn't do a very good job of hiding it, although I trusted him with the secret. "The name's Peter Parker," he bounced up beside Steve, as I unattached myself from him. "It's so cool to . . . meet you . . ." Peter trailed off, staring up in awe. "You're like, a living legend . . ."
Steve smiled – he got this a lot. "Good evening, Mr. Parker." I nodded to him that Peter (obviously) knew his secret identity.
"Can I, like, have an autograph?"
"How about a picture?" I said. "Here, just -"
"What? Oh, yeah, sure!" Peter passed me his camera and posed beside Steve. His smile was so wide, I thought his face was going to break.
"Jesus, Steve, why do you have to be so perfect?" I murmured under my breath, as I snapped the photograph. Afterwards, I passed Peter his camera back, and dragged Steve off to wait with me while I got changed back into my Masquerade costume. His was rather reluctant to be dragged into the closet with me, but I assured him it was only because I wanted his company; he rolled his eyes and came into the walk-in closet anyway. Seriously, it was practically the size of Steve's bathroom – we could both fit easily.
As I was getting dressed, though, Steve lunged forward abruptly, scaring me as he seized my arm and help it up to the one lamp in the room. I tried to pull away, but he held me there; his eyes traced over the skin on my arm, and then he examined my other arm, and my neck.
"Sam . . . you have scratches everywhere. Scratches and bruises and cuts," he said, his voice soft. "My God, I didn't realize . . ."
"It's from my work as an Avenger," I shrugged, pulling back self-consciously. "Don't worry about it."
He looked upset. "No wonder your brother hates you as Masquerade. He doesn't like all -" his fingers traced over the scratches, "- this."
"I'm fine, Stevie. Please don't worry about it," I smiled softly; he frowned, but leaned down to kiss me gently anyway.
To my bewilderment, Steve leaned forward and deepened the kiss, reaching up to tangle his hands in my hair and keep me pressed against him. I knew he must've been thinking of our fight the day before – of how I had specifically been asking for this – but it was still shocking to see him actually act on it.
This was a different side of Steve – more raw, less polished and serious. It was weird, but in a way, it was a nice change. The more I hung around him, the more he surprised me. Sometimes, it seemed like Steve wasn't as innocent as people made him out to be.
My eyes flashed open in surprise when he moved one of his hands from the back of my head down to my chest; it brushed over my breast, but just lightly. Still, he backed off, looking unsure.
"Was that inappropriate?" he asked, and then instantly began to apologize.
I laughed, pressing our foreheads together and looking in his bright blue eyes. "Steve, we've been going out for a while now, and we've known each other for way longer. I think I can handle it if you're not just touching my back."
He smiled nervously. "I'm sorry. I – I just, sometimes I don't know. I'm stuck between three things: the good old-fashioned gentleman I am and was brought up to be – like, what was acceptable back in my day; the pressures of today and what you tell me is acceptable now; and . . . what I feel. Because no matter what is or isn't appropriate . . . I'm still a man. I still have emotions that I can't control."
I smiled, laughing a bit. "Stevie, you know I'll tell you if something's wrong or if I feel we're going too far. Don't worry about what's proper – just do what you're comfortable with. What you want to be doing."
"How did I end up with such an understanding woman?" he said against my lips, and I smiled.
"Same way I ended up with such a gentleman."
He kissed me again, and I marvelled at how things were changing between us: how Steve -
The lamp caught on fire.
The fucking lamp in the fucking room caught on fucking fire.
I screamed from the shock, and Steve jumped out into the hall to grab the fire extinguisher, putting the lamp fire out. It killed the mood, for certain, but it was probably time for us to return to the party anyway . . .
I noticed Steve glaring at me. "What?"
"Why'd you set the lamp on fire?" he asked, glancing over at the charred remains.
". . . I didn't," I furrowed my brow.
"Sam, lamps don't just spontaneously combust – especially not when there's an elemental controller in the room," he pointed at it.
I held up my hands in surrender. "Steve, I swear to god, I- ahhh!"
The Masquerade dress, which was still on a hanger, caught on fire as well. Steve had put it out within moments, but it was ruined. I swore colorfully – now I was stuck as Samantha Stark for the rest of the night. Shit shit shit shit shit. This was bad.
Steve glared at me again, and said in a warning tone, "Sam . . ."
"I didn't light the dress on fire," I tried to defend myself.
"Now how're you going to be Masquerade?" he sighed. "That was a stupid thing to do. Why-"
"Steven Grant Rogers!" I said, curling my hands into fists to try and keep them from trembling – I could feel an anger spell coming on, and tried to remind myself of what he said in our fight - "Listen to me! I swear to god, I did not light the lamp and the dress on fire. End of story."
"Well, it doesn't just-" he snapped, but then abruptly stopped. "Is this like that earthquake yesterday?"
I nodded. "It wasn't me. I don't know about you, but I was actually enjoying our little session, and I wouldn't have wanted to stop it-"
"Okay, okay, Sam, I believe you," he said hastily, but I could see the gears turning in his head. I didn't bother to ask as we stepped out and entered the ballroom again; after a quick, covert kiss we went our separate ways so we could keep up appearances.
I spotted Peter on the other side of the room, and I headed towards him determinedly –
But was completely knocked off-course when the wall of the ballroom exploded. Now, that definitely wasn't me.
It looked like we had a party crasher.
Author's Note: Hello, dear readers :) hope you enjoyed this chapter! I kind of went crazy with Marvel hero cameos - that's basically all that happened :P and I suppose if you don't read the comics, you'd be a bit lost (I originally had appearances from the Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Doctor Strange, Emma Frost, Jean Grey, Sam Wilson and Luke Cage in here, too O_o). But before you freak out at me - I cut it down so that every single hero here has had their own movie. There's a Fantastic Four film, a Wolverine film, a Punisher film . . . even Daredevil's been in his own movie.
Oh, yeah. Speaking of him, that blind man (Matt Murdock) that bumped into Tony? That's Daredevil.
Hopefully, you'll be able to recognize most of the characters, and if not - they were just cameos. For example Deadpool, who only appeared in Wolverine: Origins for a short time, won't be returning. I just can't handle not being able to put so many characters in this story :S They're all so amazing!
Ahem. Point is, everything was just a cameo except Peter Parker - and Carol Danvers. She'll be back. Keep her name in mind ;) If you know who she is, drop me a line.
Thanks for the reviews last time, guys, although I was missing out on a lot of you :( thank you to everyone who did review, though: LianaDare8, littlethingsbyonedirection, brandibuckeye, Lady Firewing, erica . phoenix 16, CeffylGwyn, Shadown Realm Triforce and ClarinetRox88!
Thanks again for reading, and please leave a review, telling me what you think :) I'd really, really appreciate it. And in the next chapter, we get to find out why Sam's acting so wonky!
READERS ASSEMBLE!
