I'm alive! Whoo! And I didn't even finish this chapter the way I wanted to..though I do like the way it turned out. I will add the actual ending sometime in a different chapter but I was determined to post this today and I did!
Same year as Les Miserables, everyone's the same age.
TW, there might be a triggering part somewhere in the middle. It starts with Ow. So, be warned.
"Okay," Clint sighed as the elevator door closed and Phillip and Amelia spread out through the apartment. "You," The archer pointed to his son, who was currently shedding the hot costume from the play blearily. "Bed. Sleep. Health. Now. I'll be there in a minute. And you," He swung his arm around to Amelia, already on the couch and her computer. Clint deflated and shrugged. "I don't know, sleep, at some point."
Amelia raised her eyes at him before sighing. "Yeah, okay." The blonde sunk into the couch as Phillip left for his room. Clint blinked at the hint of bitterness in her tone.
"Are you okay?" He asked carefully, walking down the single step to the carpeted area of the living room.
Amelia blew out a breath, not looking up from the computer screen. "Yeah, I'm fine." She propped up her elbow so her hand can support her head.
"Did something happen at the play?" Clint sat on the couch by her feet.
"No, nothing happened."
"Amy, you can tell me anything."
"I know."
"So tell me." Clint told her gently, resting a hand on her foot.
"It's nothing."
"It's obviously something. Amelia Grace," The archer warned. "What's the matter?"
She tilted her head back and groaned quietly before popping her head back to attention. "It's stupid, I'll tell you that now. But I just wanted to go to the stupid cast party at Schenk's house."
Clint blinked. "Who's Schenk?"
"Zach Schenk, no one really likes him but he throws awesome parties so we tolerate him. Everyone's going over to his place tonight, even Mark, Abby and Pete. The only reason Phil's not is because he hates people and you wanted me to stay home."
The archer chuckled. "You're fifteen, and I hope you see the reasoning behind not letting you go to some kid I don't even know's house all night with a bunch of high schoolers."
"Everyone else gets to go." Amelia mumbled.
Clint sighed heavily before lifting himself off the couch. "Fine," He granted, holding up a hand before his daughter could get to excited. "But I will be getting texts from you every half hour, saying that you'll be home by one and that you have Peter in your line of sight. Got it?" He tossed her her phone.
"Yes, of course, obviously I get your paranoia." Amelia hopped off the couch, catching her phone and quickly slipped on her shoes. "Thank you dad." She flashed him a smile before heading to the door.
"Be careful!" Clint called after her.
"I will!"
"Text me!"
"Every half hour!"
"Take the subway...the nice subway!"
"I know!"
She left Clint alone with only the worry for both his young, possibly reckless daughter and once again sick son in the dark apartment. The archer pushed the paranoia-invoked thoughts away when he heard the flush of a toilet sounding from Phillip's room. He sighed at the tell-tale sign of a puking session. That's always the way with Phil, always looking so skinny and small, well, smaller, when he's sick. Clint hates it. Always had. But he still gets the ridiculously large fever reducing pills and a glass of water and heads out to Phillip's room.
"Phil?" He knocked on the door twice before entering. The room was already darkened besides the TV showing a replay of the Knicks game. Clint glanced at his son, piles of blankets already surrounding his small frame on the bed, and his head buried in the pillows before turning towards the TV and crossing his arms. Watching for a few moments. "We doin good this year?"
"хорошо, но нам понадобится гораздо больше, чем Кармело если мы хотим получить шанс от жары в этом году." Phil slipped into Russian almost unconsciously, his tired brain not realizing what's slipping off his tongue, he didn't look up at his father. (Okay, but we're gonna need a lot more than Carmelo if we want a chance against the Heat this year)
Clint sighed and nodded, not minding the change in language at all. "Это хорошо, что мы должны Кармело вообще, но если мы получим достойную центре мы мифе есть шанс." (It's a good thing we have Carmelo at all, but if we get a decent center we might have a chance)
"Ты живешь на облаке, старик. Ни в коем случае мы берем уменьшить огонь." Phil grumbled quietly and shifted on his bed. (You're living on a cloud, old man. No way we're taking down the Heat)
Clint sighed and uncrossed his arms, spilling the three pills and placing the glass on Phil's nightstand. "Just trying to think positively." He nudged Phillip's shoulder that was sticking out from underneath all the quilts. The red head slowly lifted his eyes to the archer, weariness painfully evident. Clint tapped the wooden shelf. "Take these, sleep, try to eat something tomorrow. If it gets any worse tell me. I'll be waiting for your sister to get home."
Phil blinked blearily at him. "Where'd she go?"
"Some party. Zach Schenk?"
"You let her go to Zach Schenk's alone?" Phil raised his eyebrows.
"She told me Mark and Abby and Peter were going." Clint justified and held a hand out. "And take your pills."
Phillip rolled his eyes and reluctantly downed the capsules before burying his head back into the pillows. "But Bruce let Mark go to it?"
"I doubt willingly."
"Darcy lets him do like, anything. She probably pushed him into it."
"That's the way it usually works, isn't it?" Clint chuckled.
"She seemed clingy after the show."
"They're always clingy with him. You're always clingy with him."
"I am not." Phillip defended tiredly.
"Yes you are, you barely let him out of your sight. And when you do, you make sure someone's with him."
"I have a good reason too." He grumbled.
"Phillip," Clint looked to him gently, shoulders sagging. "Don't worry about him. Worry about you. Trust me, we got Markus. He's alright."
"I know," Phil sighed and stayed quiet for a long time. "But we never found them."
"But we got him back, okay? He's good." Clint assured him, tone hard. "And I scheduled your ACTs to be on the twentieth. Of April." Gives him about a month.
Phil groaned so loud Clint was sure Tony and Steve upstairs heard the despair. "Just kill me now."
"Phillip Alexander, you will do fine. Now just, go to sleep, please."
The archer took the grunt as a probably.
Amelia had never been to party alone before.
Clint kept her on a tight leash, per say.
She didn't realize it'd be so freakin hot/. Seriously there were people everywhere, and she was probably the only freshman at this stupid thing. This was totally not how movies were. There were about Three generic types of people at a party. Eaters, people raiding every nook and cranny of the house to look for anything edible, they will wipe you clean. The people who were either making out, in every nook and cranny, or just asking whoever owned the house how many bedrooms or bathrooms were in the house so they could bang each other, not so subtly. There were people who were just /smashed, like, I have no idea who you are but I think you're my best friend type smashed.
She didn't really expect David Matthews to be in the last category.
"Oh my god, it's a Barton!" The dark haired boy yelled from across the room and practically sprinted to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I felt like I was going to be blinded in this damn thing tonight. Learn how to control the brightness settings on those things. What's your name? Abby? No, that's that other one, Stark. I think she's had sex with Tom Skulski, I don't know." David shrugged.
"Amy," Amelia started, shuddering at the information. "And Abigail Stark had sex with Tom Skulski?"
"Yeah, last year." He swallowed thickly and blew a breath in Amelia's face. "Like, when that one kid died, then came back." He pulled himself away from her to shout through the room and staggering away. "Does anyone really know what happened to the Banner kid?"
"Okay..." The blonde rolled her eyes as David stumbled to the other rooms. She eventually pushed her way through the cattle of the giant house and found Peter, after texting her father.
The older boy nodded at her, but didn't further acknowledge that she was there before turning back to Harry Osborn. According to everyone else outside the Tower, Peter and Amy barely knew each other. Amelia went to observe Mark in the basement. Claire Matthews tucked under one of his arms, both shredded of their costumes. Amy saw Darcy after the play, asking Mark to just go home with them. Bruce was actually agreeing with her, but Markus eventually told them off. He was going to this stupid party to hang out with his apparent girlfriend that everyone just kinda found out about.
They seemed happy though. Amelia kinda thought Claire was one of 'those' girls who never really got of of the emo stage and died her hair and called herself scene or something. But she was kinda cool. And Mark really liked her, Lord knows that kid really needed a friend, besides Phillip. He kinda lost touch with all of his friends since last February and Phil...Phil hasn't been much of a friend kinda guy lately anyway.
Markus saw her and shot her a wave and smile, Claire giving her one too. They were allowed to act like they knew each other, it was a social class thing. Amelia waved back before pointing upstairs, saying she was going to find Abby.
The blonde didn't really know the other was going to be sitting on the counter, boobs hanging out of her shirt towards some senior she probably didn't know. Amy was about to roll her eyes before she saw the bottle in her sister's hand. Of course.
"O-Kay, weird horny guy." Amelia pushed the senior off of where he was basically ogling the other girl behind her, before turning around face her. Abby broke the rules. She openly says that Amelia is her friend, and she always will be. Screw the food chain. "You're drunk." Amy stated.
"Oh my god! Do my eyes deceive me? Amy you're here and there aren't snipers posted at every corner. Did Clint die or something?" Abby giggled and covered her mouth to burp. "No no no no. Amy, this is just tipsy." She assured her and pushed the younger girl lightly in the chest.
"Fine," Amy deadpanned and crossed her arms. "You're tipsy verging on drunk. Can we go home?"
"Yeah! Yeah, lets go home." Abby insisted, sliding off the counter and putting her drink down. "I'll drive you, we'll take Peter's car so if anything happens we can just blame it on him." She shrugged and laughed, but frowned like a child when Amelia grabbed her wrist.
"No. No no no no." She shook her head and huffed a laugh. "You're drunk, I'm-"
"Tip-sy." Abby cut her off and pronounced every syllable.
The dirty blonde rolled her eyes. "Tipsy, whatever. I'm not letting you drive." She stated pulling the Stark towards the door. They eventually weaved their way through the others in the house to the front yard, littered with cars.
"Amy!" Abby protested, leaning back to slow her down.
"Yes?" She answered impatiently.
"I can't just leave my Skeeter here! People are going to key it." She explained slowly, pointing to the creamy colored 1962 Cadillac that Abby and Tony were fixing up since she was fourteen. He gave it to her on her birthday, two years later. Amelia insisted on it being the car from The Help, and called it Skeeter the first time. Abby almost never calls it that. Unless she's drunk, apparently.
Amy gave another eye roll and continued leading her out of the yard. "No one's goin to key the Cadillac, no one cares enough."
Abby look offended as if she had struck her. "Are you saying people don't hate me?" She asked, mouth agape in shock. "People have to hate me, that means I'm cool."
"Not really," Amelia huffed and dragged her down to sit on the curb, calling a taxi service. "Everyone thinks you're a cliche."
"Oh, fuck you." Abigail pouted, crossing her arms and plopping down. Amy turned to her, almost confused. Abby never said fuck you to anyone, let alone Amy. The younger girl opened her mouth to retort, but just ended up sighing.
They waited and rode back to the Tower in silence.
"Please," Amy sighed and opened Abby's bedroom door. "Just go to sleep."
"Fine," The other scoffed like it was an insult. She started towards the bed, only to wobble and change course for the bathroom. The familiar sound of throwing up stopped Amy from wanting to get rid of the drunken girl.
She sighed before tying up her own hair and going to hold Abby's. "Okay, fine." She told her with a sigh and bundled the other's blonde hair in her hand and waited. While she threw up. Half passed out. On the toilet.
This was a perfect way to spend her night.
"Amelia Grace." Clint called to his daughter when she tried to just waltz through the kitchen like nothing was wrong. "It is one thirty in the morning. You have not texted me for an hour and a half."
Amy sighed like it was a bother to her. "Sorry. I was busy."
Clint scoffed. "Busy? Oh, my apologies. It's not like I need to know where you are or anything."
"Why does it matter so much to you about my everyday activities!" Amelia almost laughed. "You let Phil go literally anywhere and at anytime, and he actually gets screwed. I don't do anything."
"Yeah, I know. Exactly my point." Clint stood from the table going over to gently. "You know I gotta make sure he's not doing anything stupid, worry about whether or not Reskov's on my ass or not, and now I gotta worry about you going to some high school party with people I don't know." His tone got thicker with every word. Amelia froze.
"Who's Reskov and why he is on your ass?" She questioned seriously.
Clint sighed heavily and wiped his hands over his face. "He's just...he's someone I should-"
"Oh my god." Amelia cut him off, panicked. "He got away from you, didn't he? He's one if those crazy revenge guys, you knew it. You've always said there would be day where you missed and then he'd come after us and now we're dead. Aren't we? And I haven't trained in like, a year, and know I'm just gonna be-"
"Amy!" Clint interrupted, chuckling from the misunderstanding. "Reskov, was not a hit, okay?" He explained. "He's the new Medical officer, I haven't done an eval in months, he's on my ass for it. You guys are fine. For once, it's fine."
The girls stood silent for a before scoffing. "I can't believe you jus let me worry like that." She rolled her eyes.
"For three whole seconds? Yeah, I bet that was exhausting for you." Clint told her sardonically.
"And why haven't you some am eval?" She kept on going. "You could have a bad knee, or your blood pressure's too high, or your bones are weakening, or your eyesight's going bad. or your muscles are getting old and tired and you should ease up on the bow, or-"
"Amy, I'm fine." Clint chuckled and stopped her from going on. "Trust me, if something was wrong, I would know." He gave her a smirk. "And if I should be on your ass, cuz it hasn't been in the gym for a good six months."
She rubbed the back of her neck, guilty like a child. "I've kept up my running. I just did Susan G. Komen.." The blonde tried to soften the blow.
Clint sighed, wanting to say something but eventually didn't. He wouldn't force it down her throat, no matter how much he wanted to. He breathed and walked over to rest his hands on her shoulders. "I am going to sleep." He stated. Clint kissed her forehead and patted her shoulder before walking back to his bedroom, Amelia doing the same.
Mark had a good night.
Finally, a good night, with peers that weren't the others in the Tower. Not that they weren't fun or any shit like that, but that was literally all Mark had when he came back to school that fall. It was good to actually hang out with normal people for a change.
But he did kinda feel bad for snapping at his parents.
Darcy was pressuring him to come home. Bruce was actually agreeing with her. He knew they were tired, Mark himself was a little tired, not that he'd admit it. It was only when Darcy played the fact that he was worn out that he snapped back. Told them he was not five anymore and can handle a stupid party that he wanted to go to instead of them chaining him down to the house.
Even though it was a little true, Mark could tell it had stung his mother.
But it didn't stop him from going anyway.
And he slept wonderfully, which was a plus. The lovely realm between sleep and awake was faded as he sat up in his bed. Sun streaming through the windows and he made a gesture for Jarvis to shut the blinds. Mark picked up the brace laying half underneath his bed and half out, quickly strapping it on so his left foot was properly in line, where it was supposed to be and headed out to the kitchen.
Mara perked up her head and thumped her tail on the ground happily when she heard him enter. The dog got up from the plus size dog bed, Mark patted her on the head and scratched under her collar.
"Hey, girl." He greeted and she kept wagging her tail like she hasn't seen him in years. The normal routine. He eventually turned to pantry, throwing a small treat to large dog as she sniffed the brace. It was shaped around his ankle and the bridge of his foot so he could walk normally, and stopped right under his knee. Mark scratched her once again before pulling out cereal and milk. Milk first, then the unnecessary colorful fruity pebbles next.
He glanced through the opening in the wall that leads to the living room, not hearing Darcy's usual Good Morning America playing. It was odd she wasn't awake yet, Darcy was almost always up before her son. Mara settled back down on her bed, Mark kept chewing and thinking. Darcy had been sleeping longer lately. A few days ago she went as far as to ask if Mark knew where his hot pad was, said her back was killing her. He did give it to her, an she even went to bed without eating desert.
Darcy always, had her desert.
Bruce allowed himself to sleep for extended periods of time on the weekends, so that wasn't concerning the teen. His father and Tony were always busy down at the lab or and SI, so he was tired. But Bruce made sure to get at least a solid six hours every night so the Other Guy doesn't get grumpy when he gets stressed. Darcy, she liked her sleep, but not at ten o'clock on a Friday and sleeping until after ten thirty the next morning.
It was just, weird.
Mark came back to Earth when he heard Bruce padded into the room. Mara did the same thing she did with Mark, only Bruce settled for a single scratch behind the ear. The scientist rubbed his eyes sleepily and gave a small smile towards his son. "Morning." He greeted. Pulling out his tea mug Mark so colorfully painted shades of green and purple for him when he was six, and started filling it with water.
"Good morning." Mark mumbled and pushed around the few pieces of cereal left in his bowl. "Sorry." He spit out quick and quiet.
Bruce heard it, turned from where he was microwaving his tea hot. "For what?" Even though he knew. Mark sighed.
"For snapping at you and Mom last night." He hunched over his bowl.
Bruce sighed back, pulling out his mug and dipping his tea bag up and down. "It's fine. I know we like to keep tabs with you.."
"It's a little more than just keeping tabs, Dad." Mark said, almost boredly.
"...But you know why." Bruce looked at him knowingly, setting his mug down after a sip. "Why we all do that to you." Markus sighed edging on a groan, running his fingers through his hair.
"I'm not that five year old who still needed help getting off the floor anymore, Dad."
"No," The brunet shrugged. "But you were like him thirteen moths ago." Markus didn't say anything for a while. "I'm just scared for you Markus." Bruce admitted quietly, tapping his fingers on his mug. "I never want to not know what's happening to you, I never even planned for anything like that. I'm so sorry."
"Dad!" Mark scolded quietly. "You know it's your fault. You just want someone to blame, and the person you should actually blame you have no idea how to find him."
Bruce froze in his place, looking down at the counter top. Of course he knew how to find him, it'd be too easy now. Get a file on Claire Matthews' family tree and where they each reside. Get to Ross's house and plant a bullet in his head. Bruce would barely hesitate, he could understand Ross's persistence on hunting him down. He wanted soldiers for war and to get rid of a threat. But literally torturing his son when it was obvious he didn't have what the general was looking for, was a mile over the line.
"Dad?"
Bruce snapped out of his thoughts when Mark called for him, eyeing the scientist wearily. "What?"
"It's not your fault." Mark repeated. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "Nothing, it's not important." He picked up his mug and clapped his son on the shoulder. "Why don't you go wake up your mother?"
Markus eyed him warily but nodded. "Okay," He assured Brice quietly before padding into his parent's bedroom. Darcy was sprawled out on her stomach in the middle of the bed, long brown hair running down over the pillows and sheets like some kind of brown river. The blanket was half off, half on the bed, only a quarter of it actually over the woman's body. "Mom?" The teenager called her gently.
The only response was a grumble. "No."
Mark smiled. "It's almost eleven. Are you okay?"
"I was." Darcy groaned like a teenager and pulled the cover over her head. "Then you woke me up."
"Mom, you never sleep this late. Do you want me to make you breakfast?" Mark gave her an innocent smile.
Darcy hesitated, shifting on the mattress. "Can you make the little cinnamon rolls with the extra frosting on them?" She asked childishly, Mark laughed.
"Yeah, mom." He chuckled. "I'll make you cinnamon rolls."
~2 Weeks Later~
"Oh c'mon Marvi!" Phillip shook the small table by slamming his fist down. The three other men in the game only laughed as Marvi pooled in his winnings.
"That's the rules, brother, you had a eight or higher, not my problem you quit." The older man laughed at his stupid mistake of folding.
"That's a load a shit, you knew I had a good hand and you played me!"
"That's not my fault, Rabbit." Marvi chuckled and separated the bills he'd won onto the table. "Next time don't fold."
"Bastard." Phillip spat at him as he shoved the scraps of cash he had left into his pocket, getting up from the table.
"Aww, come on, man." Marvi sympathized, opening his arms as invite to sit down again. "Keep on playing, you still got enough left, by the looks of it. Why don't you try to win it all back, double or nothin?" He gave the teen a toothy grin, his fake gold canine reflected the dim light over the tables.
Fifteen other tables were lined up at the edge of the warehouse. Tonight there were no shows in the ring, a lot less people. Most people here on the quiet nights were either gamblers or addicts. Phil could almost smell the ecstasy and heroine floating around this place. Those people, men and woman, laid sprawled out on one half of the room and old couches. Either too zonked out to even realize what was going on or waiting for the needle to be passed around. Phil thought it absurd at first. The other half were guys just throwing money at each other over plastic party tables. There was only one working slot machine, that no one used anyway, and one actual craps table. The rest were make-shift.
The red head paused and thought about Marvi's offer. Yeah, he shouldn't even be here in the first place, and yeah, he knows it was stupid to bet that much anyway. But to win it all back in one little game?
"Don't take it kid. Walk away while you can." One of the other men advised. "That's almost fifty-six hundred you'll be losing."
"Shut it," Marvi hit him in the chest before turning back to Phil, same smile plastered on his face. "C'mon, little man. That's almost fifty-six hundred you might be winnin'." He winked at the redhead knowingly.
Phillip sighed heavily and ran his hands down his face. "Fine." He huffed and plopped back down in his seat at the table. Marvi laughed excitedly and banged his fist on the table.
"Good man, good man." He slapped Phil hard on the back and started dealing out cards again.
The game was Texas Hold 'Em. Easy, there's five cards on the table, you get six or seven. You match your cards with the ones on the table or if a match is in your hand, and not on the table. Whoever has the highest match wins. Marvi flipped the cards on the table up. Seven of hearts, queen of spades, three of spades, eight of clubs, and king of hearts.
Phil didn't let out the 'oh fucking shit' when he realized he had two of clubs, ace of spades, six of hearts, two of diamonds, a jack of clubs and three of hearts. A threes not going to do shit for him now, not unless Marvi has nothing. The redhead only prayed to the god he'll say he doesn't believe in in situations like this.
He's starting to think he's right to say there's no one up there.
Marvi smirked, seeing past Phillip's blank expression and put down his cards.
An eight of hearts and diamonds, an ace of diamonds, a six of clubs, a seven of diamonds, and a four of hearts.
"Game's over, Rabbit." The man smiled and tapped his fingers on the table.
Phillip's exterior remained calm as he stood up, walked around the table and stood next to Marvi. "Yeah," He nodded and admitted quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling through the eight hundred he has left. "You won."
Marvi was not expecting the fist in his face a half second later.
Phil decked him quickly, the two other men standing in surprise as the redhead flipped the table over to project himself over it. He heard Marvi spitting curses at the teenager as he scooped up the bag the dealer kept all his winnings in before sprinting to the door, kicking it open.
So this is what it felt like, running for your life for the second time.
This really needs to stop happening to him.
Phil's feet scrambled to keep up with him, hearing Marvi and the other men quickly racing after him. He took advantage of his short stature and kept bobbing and weaving through crooks and crannies that one could find down in the Bronx. Whenever he faced a gate he scaled it with ease, throwing the pack over his shoulder and kept on running. The late March snow was still everywhere, Phil didn't quite notice it until his adrenaline wore off.
He didn't realize how much he was pushing himself until he threw his ass in the subway car. Phil rested his head on the side of the car and let himself take the slow breaths he needed. The business man sitting next to him stared for a moment before moving over to the opposite seats across from them.
"Ever heard of running at night?" Phil defended. The man looked at him skeptically. As if to say 'in jeans and hoodie in the freezing cold? No, kid.'
But it was the New York way to just kind of ignore the weird.
The total of the money in the bag ended up being around $19,000.
Holy hell, he just dug his own grave and practically threw himself in it too. Phil was sure Clint would find it, kill him, revive him, then kill him again. He really had to get rid of it. River would be stupid, someone would find it. Burning it would be useless, then it all goes to waste.
A strange thought came to the seventeen year old's right then. Steven Alper, the drummer for the school's unnecessary jazz ensemble. He comes up from Sebastian's, supposed to be 'amazing' at drumming so much they recruited him to high school's ensemble. Phil heard this kid's little brother was diagnosed with cancer maybe six...seven months ago?
"I am not Robin Hood..." Phil sighed glancing towards his computer and the bag. "I am not Robin Hood." He told himself again, but finding his feet carrying towards the laptop. "I'm not gonna be Robin Hood." He Googled this Steven Alper. Small house, two parents, one who just had to quit her job, and the other...definitely not making enough income to cover medical bills.
"Fuck." The teenager spat, slumping in his chair. "I'm Robin Hood."
~5 Days Later~
Peter groaned as he followed Phillip over to the chain link fence in front of their school. "How on Earth did you think this was a good idea?"
"It's not." Phil scoffed and chucked his backpack over the gate. "What made you think that?" He locked his fingers in between the chains and climbed over it.
"Oh, I don't know." Peter shrugged sarcastically and sighed before following the other boy. "I just thought you would take the fact that we could get arrested into consideration!"
"You didn't have to come." Phil flung on his backpack and kept towards the school, not even looking back.
"I'm pretty sure that when I see you sneaking out at eleven o'clock, I should maybe follow you and make sure you don't get killed." The older boy snapped at him. Phil sighed like he was annoyed at the concern. "And what was in the bag you dropped off out in the suburbs?"
"Yeah, whatever. It happened like, one time. And none of your business."
Peter was taken aback. "What?"
"I don't need a babysitter, Pete." Phil quickly changed the subject and squatted down to look at the lock on the door. Standard key, small, easy to pick with only a hairpin, electronically lockable and unlock able, but can still be picked. Safest school his ass. "Now, you gonna stay and be my partner in crime?"
Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine," He followed Phil into the school. "But if anyone catches us, I'm not affiliated with you."
"Why are you so worried?" Phil said relaxed and rounded the corner. "You already got into your fancy college, what are they gonna do? Un-accept you cuz you were caught helping me ask David out to the stupid/ dance?" The red head turned and crossed his arms to see Peter's expression. Mouth open slightly and the disbelief clear across his face. The older boy eyed him while opening and closing his mouth. "If you're just going to stand here and show me your impression of a goldfish, I'm going to carry on with my business."
"That's what you're here for?" Peter blurted out when Philip turned around again. The younger boy nodded and kept walking, Peter trailing him. "But all that crap just died down, even the Jesus freaks are are giving up. You wanna start all that up again?"
"Uh, yeah." Phillip laughed and mumbling the locker numbers. "It's getting boring here, and they might go back to you and Abby. Plus the whole outrage of gays allowed into a prom would cause such a busy time for Bates." He stopped outside a locker, promptly picked the lock before opening the door. Phil tilted his head and measured the distance between the door and the wall with his arm. "Give me your shoe." He held a hand out to Peter.
"Why?" The older boy asked nervously.
Phillip rolled his eyes like it was obvious. "Cuz I love the smell of your foot. Just give it to me."
Peter sighed regretfully and slid his foot out of his sneaker and handed it to Phil.
"Thank you." He said gratefully. Phil stuck the shoe in between the locker door and the wall, and closed the bottom lock, making the top stick open.
Peter sighed and ran a hand down his face. "But you're still risking getting kicked out of prom, parents bitching about it so much that it might make the news, and possibly risking your name getting out in print?"
"Pete." Phillip said seriously. "Relax, it's gonna be fine. SHIELD covers all that anyway, the deal was we pretty much get our own lives-as long as we don't blow up the president or something-SHIELD makes sure we stay covered and no one gets killed by vengeful terrorists that our parents might piss off. And the life part includes the ability to make babies with whoever we want." The red head shrugged and put down his back pack. He unzipped the front pocket, some of the white spherical pingpong balls spilling out.
Peter sighed for what felt like the millionth time tonight. "As much as I'm for the love who you want thing, making babies doesn't seem like an option for you guys." He nudged a pingpong ball with his foot and eyed it quizzically. A sloppy 'Prom?' was scribbled on it. He took a glance at the other balls, all of them had the same sloppy handwriting on them. "What are you doing with these anyway?"
"Patience." Phillip smirked and lifted the backpack over the slot on the locker. The pingpong balls started to pour out of his back pack and into the locker. Phil kept his arm lodged in the space so the balls didn't fall out the side. "And speaking of making babies," Phillip smirked devilishly. "What's the deal with you and that Gwen chick from last year?"
"Oh c'mon," Peter groaned. "You and Abby are like a freakin cult with that, aren't you? You guys don't give up."
"She might have mentioned it to me." Phil chuckled. He shook the backpac few more pingpong balls rushed out before he slid it from the open space. Phil zipped up his backpack, unjammed Peter's shoe from the locker, and handed it back to him as the door snapped shut. "But still man," He said, flinging the backpack over his shoulder. "Bang her."
"Respectful." Peter scoffed and followed him back to the front entrance of the school.
"Fine, make out with her, try tongue, if she rejects tongue, no sex."
"I'm not getting back together with Gwen."
"Whatever you say." Phil hummed as he started scaling the fence again. He flipped himself over the top and watched as Peter followed with the same gracefulness. "Showing off, Spider-Man?"
Peter smirked and shrugged. "Maybe." Phil only rolled his eyes and turned to walk home. Peter followed the younger boy in silence for a while.
The two eventually ended up back downtown, the leftover New Yorkers quickly scuffling back to their homes or the buses. Peter and Phillip swam through the crowd like they've been doing their whole life, the sidewalk like a fast moving river and the people like fish. Peter practically ran into Phil's back when he stopped suddenly. The brunette issued a quick 'sorry' to the other people who were held back by Phillip's sudden decision to freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. Peter tried to lightly push him forward but the redhead only tensed tighter than his father's bowstring, Peter took a step back.
"Phil?" He asked carefully. Peter had to admit that the flinch he so obviously displayed was for good reason. Phillip moved so quickly to break from the trance to grab Peter's arm and yank him to turn around, completely misdirecting their path towards the Tower, that Peter couldn't help but be surprised. The red head quickly pulled up his hood to cover his rather identifiable hair and continued to drag the older boy through the slew of people. "Phillip?" Peter tried again.
"Shut up." The boy growled darkly, making a sharp turn into an alley. He released the grip he had on Peter's arm, not realizing how firmly he was latching on to the older boy. Phil leaned back against the brick wall like he was sitting on a chair. He ran his hands down his face to cover his mouth and start mumbling to himself.
"No I thought he paid him he should have paid him he told me he'd paid him why is here he shouldn't have seen me and shit."
"Phil, what are you talking about?" Peter furrowed his brow and tried to glance back into the street.
Phillip snapped out of whatever trance he was in to stand up and pace the length of the alley. "C'mon," He snapped at the brunette, jumping up to the buildings fire escape. Peter followed behind hesitantly but closely.
Phil paced the edge of the building and kept glancing over the rooftop.
"Peter, how much money do you think will be enough for the people you owe it to to come after you?" He asked shakily, running his fingers through his hair.
"Oh, no." Peter sighed and turned back to Phillip, staring coldly at him. "What. Did. You. Do?"
"I might have maybe possibly lost a bet for a few thousand dollars on accident. Multiple times." Phillip swallowed thickly and for the first time in his life, actually felt ashamed in front of Peter. "Don't tell me you've never done anything stupid."
"I've never got in deep with sharks Phil!" Pete practically yelled at him. Steve once told him, that he was to look after the kids. He was the oldest, that's what he did. "Are you kidding me? You lost thousands of dollars? Can you, for once not act like total idiot? And I don't know, not yourself?"
"I think I realize how much of an idiot I am!" The younger boy snapped right back at him, almost nose to nose. "You don't think I have ever tried to be the freakin golden boy like you are? Peter, the oldest who gets stuck with babysitting. Peter, who gets a 4.8 and gets in every single advanced placement thing they have. Peter, who has literally saved the fucking city! And Peter, who has to deal with his idiot of a relative beating the shit out of people every other day, and who has to help with essays and homework that he mastered years ago, and, to put the cherry on top of the 'Fuck You' ice cream sundae, you don't lose thousands of dollars to versions of the Mob who skin people alive."
Peter backed away from him. "I think you need to-"
"Hey, kid." A familiar deep voice sounded from behind the boys. "I think you owe me some things."
Phil swallowed thickly and gave a quick look to Peter to run the fuck away before turning back to the dark haired man with a squint. "Hey Red." He greeted, much more confident then he felt. He cocked his head to the side for another signal to Peter, idiot's still standing there.
"Yeah, greetings. Been a long time," The Red Hood greeted quick and cut. Hands twitching over the butt of a handgun at his hip. "I'm still about three thousand short."
"I paid you off months ago." Phillip squinted, crossing his arms.
Red scoffed. "I got an envelope with $7,000 cash in it, so you're about $3,000 short, my friend."
Great.
"And from what I believe," Red continued and stepped closer to him. "You owe Marvi down at the ring almost twenty thousand too. You're getting yourself in deep shit."
"Oh my god.." Peter let out, looking to Phillip with his mouth open.
Red rolled his eyes before drawing his side arm and firing once into Peter's thigh. The teenager let out a scream an Phil flicked out his pistol as fast as the hit man. The redhead gave a quick, two fingered signal to Peter the kids learned years ago, telling him to really, get out of here.
The brunette finally gave him a curt nod with a look that said the he'll back. Pete stumbled to fling himself over the edge of the roof, holding his leg with one hand and himself up on the brick with the other, eventually making it to the ground.
"So, kid." Red Hood continued, unaware of Peter's ability. "Why don't you come with me, we can sort this thing out."
Phil swallowed thickly.
Peter came in right when Red was breaking Phil's wrist, luckily before a proper beating. Only a mild one.
Well, Spider-Man did. The Red Hood certainly was caught off guard with that one. Peter crashed through the already broken glass window, taking down the hit man with his feet. Phil was quick to react and grabbed an old wooden chair, smashed it over the man's head.
"C'mon!" Peter shouted and dragged the smaller boy up by the arm. They jumped back through the window, Phillip clinging to Peter for dear life as they swung from building to building. Red popped a few shots after them, but failed to hit either one of the boys. The two eventually settled a block away from the Tower.
"Holy shit." Phil let out under his breath and sat down on the edge if the roof they were on. Peter pulled off his mask, sitting next to him.
"Never, make me do that again." Peter scolded and took a moment to catch his breath.
"I don't plan on it." Phil sighed and pushed Peter away when he started touching his face. "I'm fine."
"You look like shit." Peter insisted, taking a look at him. Black eye, swelling slightly, neck bruised, a cut along the eyebrow, and Phil's wrist was bent in a way it shouldn't be. "He broke your wrist, and probably a rib. I doubt he stopped at your face."
"What about your leg?" Phil asked dryly and looked away from him.
"It's healing. We're going to the ER."
"And Spider-Man's just gonna show up with some kid?" Phil scoffed and stood when Pete did.
"No," He rolled his eyes and pulled off his suit, a shirt and pants under it. "Peter Stark was tutoring you, you were walking home, you got mugged, you came back, I took you to the hospital."
Phillip rolled his eyes and ignored the pounding in his head that with it. "It's never gonna work."
"I can't believe that worked." Phil laughed as they walked into the Tower, his right hand casted.
"Yeah, well, it kinda made a dent in my allowance." Peter scoffed but smirked. He hit Phil's arm sympathetically. "But I still have like, five thousand saved. It's yours."
Phil almost choked.
"What? No." The boy shook his head. "I'm not taking that."
"Phillip, you need it!" Peter insisted. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm swimming in cash. You're drowning in debt."
"I'm not taking your money, Pete." The redhead snapped right back.
"Then I'm gonna pay him for you! You take either take it now, give it to the bastard or I will."
Phil shook his head again. "I have something that's gonna work out."
"I don't care." Peter pressed. It doesn't matter what Phillip said to him, that boy was gonna find money on his dresser the next morning.
Clint stood from his chair immediately when Phil walked through the door. He knew something went wrong the minute the clock struck three in the morning. "What the hell happened to you?" The archer confronted him immediately, cornering Phil like a wounded animal. "You told me you were trying to make a scene at school, I was mildly relived it was just that. Now I gotta sit here, waiting for you, while I haven't slept in a good twenty hours. And you look like shit. What happened."
"Okay, this is not as bad as you think. And why do you think yelling is a good option? Clearly what hasn't worked fifty thousand times before will surely work now!"
Clint sighed, resting and leaning against his hand on the counter. "I'm sorry, I'm tired. Please tell me what happened. I have to leave again in an hour and a half and I really don't want to worry about you." He shot him a pleading look. Phil could see the bags under his eyes. Clint had just ran a two day hit, obviously on a hurried schedule, so lots of quick surveillance, little time to sleep. It was an unspoken rule that when the archer came back, there would be silence for at least nine hours on their floor. Now he was leaving again, for a long while. This one ran a month and a half, maybe two.
Phil slumped against the doorframe. "Can you just accept the fact that I can't tell you this time?" He almost begged him.
Clint gave him the saddest look. "Phillip." He sighed and shook his head. "Can you once, just let me actually help you?" Because that's what he was supposed to be doing, right?
The teen just stared at him. He eventually shook his head, muttering as he slipped past him. "You shouldn't need to."
"I thought you told me you were okay." Clint shut his eyes and didn't watch him leave the room.
Phillip almost laughed. He thought he was too.
"Hey, Marvi?" Phillip started, holding the phone up to his ear. "I know, I know you're pissed, but I got a deal. Remember that offer, from back in the fall?...Well, I think we can do that again, on your terms, I know you'll like it like that...great, but there's, kind of some things I'm changing..."
"Wow," An older man commented next to Phillip as they laid in the bed in some crappy motel. "You're pretty good, for a kid in this game. Marvin was right about you."
Phil stayed silently and refused to look at this guy-who he didn't even know his name - Marvi told him payed good as he got up from the mattress to pull on his pants. The redhead only looked up at the man when he threw the wad of cash in front of him.
"There." He spat at the one on the bed while shrugging on his jacket, one hand on the doorknob. "See you next week." The dark haired man laughed and walked out the door.
~Saturday, The Next Day~
"C'mon, Markus, it's one little dinner thingy." Claire pleaded innocently over the restaurant table to her (she would hate to say this word out loud, but whatcha gonna do) boyfriend of currently two months. Over the ten dates they've had, not one had been held at either of their houses. Claire's parents being Claire's parents, they wanted to meet Mark over some dinner party thing with her huge family and possibly judge him to be perfect or horrible. Which of course made Mark immediately think it would go absolutely wrong and something would end up on fire. And he always wore his brace hours before he went to sleep because he has to get it in at least four hours a day and he didn't even want to think about what anyone might say. Claire's never even seen him wear it, he always his jeans over it if they went somewhere.
All this resulted in him fidgeting in the chair. "Do I really have to do this?"
Claire smiled and put her chin in her hands. "It'd make me very happy." She said sweetly. "The kids would love to marvel at how tall you are."
"Yeah," Mark huffed a laugh, leaned back in this chair and ran his fingers through his hair. "How many are there of you?"
"Twelve." Claire said bluntly. "Including me." She laughed and sat up when Mark gave her a sideways look. "Twins are like potato chips, can't have just one."
"You guys are all pairs of twins?"
"Yes." She nodded like she was just realizing how out of the ordinary if was. "Me and David, then there's Chris and Liam, then Emma and Maddie, then Sam and Alex, both girls, just if you're wondering. Then there's and Jake and Eli and the babies are Katy and Anna."
"Lots a kids." Mark shrugged.
"Yeah," Claire sighed. "Don't worry though, they're not all insane." She assured him and rested her head in her hands. "Chris and Liam are pretty weird though, Liam once threw a hunting knife at Chris's head."
Markus blinked. "Did he hit him?"
"The hilt did." Claire shrugged. "They were like seven or something. My mom got all pissy at them for months. It was pretty annoying."
"And you want me to meet this woman?" He raised an throw while crossing his arms. He scowled when Claire only laughed.
"Relax, you're not a total ass so she'll like you, and you're quiet, which she needs."
Markus huffed a laugh. "Not a total ass?"
"Not to me."
"And I'm not quiet." The boy protested, slumping down in the chair.
"You totally are." Claire giggled. "You're so awkward around anyone, like a giant awkward giraffe, it's cute."
"I look nothing like a giraffe." Mark huffed. "And it's not cute."
Claire chuckled. "You are cute." She nodded knowingly and stirred the straw in her drink. "Are you coming or not?" She pressed.
Markus sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face. "I'm so going to regret this." He groaned. "But yeah, fine."
~Monday~
Marvi had Phil in the same room Saturday night too, and the redhead got a call Sunday night even. Total hours of sleep, the kind that was actually good for you: three. And now there was school to be dealt with on Monday.
"Amy I swear to god I will leave you here if you do not get in the car!" Phil shouted tiredly through her locked bathroom door. She had a weird obsession with needing her hair to be perfectly straight even though she'll put it up during her lunch anyway. "Amelia!"
"I'm coming, relax!" She shouted back, throwing the door open. "I'm gonna cut these stupid curls off one day! I don't care if I look like a lesbian, I'm doing it."
Phillip sighed and hit the elevator button. "Good for you, viva a la resistance. Get in the elevator."
"Pushy." She grumbled as they rode down to the car. Mark leaning on the old Altima. Clint's not putting a brand new Chevy or something in a seventeen year olds responsibility. The only reason Peter or Abby weren't driving is that senior have later classes.
"What took you so long?" Markus asked them, sliding himself into the passengers side.
"Princess needed her curls to be perfect."
"I need them to go away." Amelia corrected.
"Then just cut your hair, no one cares! Don't spend half an hour under two hot plates burning it to a crisp!" Phil insisted, pulling into traffic and resting his head on the wheel. He practically felt Mark's concerned look on his back.
"Are you okay?"
"Dandy." The redhead grumbled.
"What happened to your arm?" He eyed the cast around Phil's word as if he just noticed it.
"Peter slammed it in a door because he's a fucking idiot. Just like the asshole in front of us!" He yelled at the silver Audi who kept slamming on the brakes every three seconds. "But if anyone else asks, I fell down the stairs. When are you gonna learn how to drive?"
"And your face too?" Mark almost laughed, but remained skeptical. "I'll think about when my parents stop insisting I take smaller bites."
"Har har. Speak for yourself." Amelia mumbled from the backseat. Letting Phil come off topic.
"Oh please, just last week Dad let you go to Zak Schenk's." Phillip countered.
"What's wrong with Zak Schenk?"
"He's a pervert who only throws those parties so he can record the sex everyone has!" Phil insisted as he pulled into the handicap lot at Sebastian's, hanging Mark's pass on his mirror. The bell rang throughout the lot.
"That is so not true, and now we're late." Amelia scolded, throwing her bag over her shoulder. "Oh, I have dance tonight, and Via's going to kill me of I'm late to that too." He threw over to Phil and slid out of the car.
The eldest scoffed and followed behind her with Mark next to him. "She's not gonna have that attitude with me when she's taking the bus every morning."
"Oh please, Phillip? The golden brother to leave his defenseless sister to the bus riding homo-sapiens? And here I thought you have a heart of gold." Mark laughed and teased him, punching Phil in the shoulder.
He laughed and pushed him back. "You got your cane?"
The taller boy rolled his eyes. "No, I do not think I will need to have my cane, mother." He corrected and started up the staircase to his home room.
"Whatever, smart ass. Be tired with your perfect grammar." Phil scoffed, parting ways.
He was surprised to see David slamming him up against the wall thirty seconds later.
"Ow." Phillip commented, though his back side really did protest at the rough treatment.
"What the hell was that for?" The taller teenager spat at him.
Phil squinted and observed the arm holding his chest against the wall with interest. "Care to expand?"
"I didn't even tell my parents yet." He whispered violently, voice cracking some in what might've been despair. "And now you go and pull the locker shit and practically hang a banner about my sexuality? What the hell?"
Oh, he's talking about that.
"Sucks to have someone tell everyone when you don't want them to, doesn't it?" Phillip sighed.
"What?" David spat at him again, shoving his chest. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You blame me for what some rich girl did? You think just be used it happened to you, that it's justified if you do it me? What kind of asshole does that?"
"I thought you didn't care whether-"
"Didn't care?" David questioned, shoving his chest. "Are you kidding me? In this place? Look at you! You're a mess, almost everyone hates you.."
"I'm pretty sure that has something to do with my beautiful personality."
"...And I'm almost certain you're on drugs or something! And what the hell happened to you?" David finally asked.
Phil stiffened. "That's a question, uh-"
"Hey!" A teacher called from her classroom. "The bell rang five minutes ago, get to home room!"
"Fine," David glared hard into Phil one last time before starting the other way.
"Have fun today."
"Fuck you, Barton."
Phil sighed, mentally kicking himself. Thinking about physically kicking himself, when the same teacher got his attention.
"Mr. Barton, Mr. Bates would like to see you." She informed him, talking sternly. "Now."
The redhead groaned but started up to the psych's office anyway. The receptionist didn't even look up before pointing down the hall. Phil grunted a thanks and knocked on Bates' door.
"Come in." Was heard from the other side of the door.
Phil pushed it open, closing it again when he entered. Bates was busy scribbling away, the phone on his desk kept silently buzzing with calls from other kids parents. So it begins.
"Am I here to watch you doodle or what?" The redhead said boredly.
"Sit down, Mr. Barton." He did, slumping deep in the chair. Bates put down his pen to look up at Phillip. "Do you have any idea why you're here?"
"I'm gonna guess the parental homophobic public outrage that another kid in this school likes it up the ass." He deadpanned.
"As long as I'm on the record as the A.P. I can't agree with that, but off the record. I will." Bates told him simply, glancing at his buzzing phone.
"Good, we're on the same page. I was trying to create a stir."
"You embarrassed him while doing it." Bates fired back. "I've been vey lenient about you Phillip, but you really have to start thinking about what you're doing to other people. I know you're situation is not-"
"What 'situation'?" Phil spat.
Bates shut his mouth for only a second. Then he calmly put his pen down neatly beside the stack of paper he was writing on. He folded his hands together and rested his arms on his desk, looking and the teenager gently. "What happened to you, Phillip?"
"I fell down some stairs." He answered monotonically, resting his head on his good hand.
Bates eyed him like he obviously didn't believe Phil, and sighed sadly. "No, Mr. Barton. I am referring to the spunky six year old who used to claim he was 'King if the Monkey Bars'?"
The redhead's smile faltered at that. Man, what happened to that kid? It was quite a list. That kid's mother was killed, his father left for work twice as much to fill in for her, his sister needed him more than any regular one should, he was temporarily blinded for a week, was at risk of dying again because his shitty immune system, his brother was tortured and had to start all over, he was caught in the middle of an underground fight club, owes thousands of dollars to a drug dealer, was constantly rejected by people he used to call friends because apparently who he loves is wrong, and is now spending his time sleeping with men he doesn't know years older than him to pay off money he gave to a kid with cancer.
And all that came out of his mouth was a cocky smirk and a raised eyebrow. "Spunky? We're not really in the eighties anymore, Bates."
Bates smiled, but his eyes were still sad. "Always have a way of avoiding the question, don't you Mr. Barton?"
"You could say that."
"Nevertheless, that's not why you're here." Mr. Bates pulled out a little slip of paper. "This is an unofficial suspension."
"Whoa! You're suspending me for asking someone out? How the hell is that justified?!" Phil cut him off seething.
"I said unofficial, Mr. Barton. It's not an actual suspensions it's a fake suspension so I don't have parents on my back telling me to suspend you." Bates assured him. "It won't be on any permanent record or on any record at all. You're taking 'sick days'."
"Is this even legal?" Phil questioned, taking the planned absence papers.
"I guess we'll find out." Bates deadpanned. "Now take the papers, go home, let this all die down. We can help you catch up when you return."
Phil scoffed, stood and looked at the papers again. "So you actually are telling me to just...go home?"
"Yes."
"And won't show up on my record?"
"Yes."
"And I'll get caught up without penalty?"
"Yes, Phillip. Go home."
"You let him go home?" Kenish nearly shouted at the guidance counselor when he told her exactly what he did. "Have you not been listening to everything your coworkers are saying?"
"You?" Bates sighed as the women vented. "I really think you're worrying over nothing, Jen."
"Nothing-" The nurse scoffed. "Did you not see Barton today? What, you believe the stairs shit?"
"Of course not," Bates shook his head. "But I'm not accusing a man of beating his child without any solid evidence!"
"What more are you expecting? The kid to confess?" Kenish ran her fingers through her hair. "It's obvious he's taking hits for his sister-"
"Nothing is obvious until we are sure."
"Well, I'm sure." She crossed her arms. "Make the call."
"Give me one reason why'd Clint Barton would be so sloppy today, of all days."
Kenish almost smiled. She had a list of reasons, might as well say the most obvious one. "Report cards came out on Friday."
"You think a grade would push a possible abuser to throw all the secrecy he supposedly went to to cover it up, and let the kid walk around with a face like that?"
"You said yourself you thought Amelia was coming out of her shell, if she's anything like her brother that would mean she's talking back, she's saying no. Who's Clint Barton gonna take it out on?" She shifted her weight. "Certainly not her, Phillip's taking all the hits."
"And you came up with this, on what?" Bates questioned, finally meeting the nurse's eyes. "What are you planning on going to Child Services with?"
"Just ask the girl."
"Am I in trouble?" Amelia asked nervously as she was suddenly faced with the Principle, guidance counselor, nurse, and a cop. She hoped she didn't forget to take the knife out of her locker. "Because it kinda looks like I'm in trouble."
"You're not in trouble." Bates assured her. "Only want to ask you a few questions."
"Um.." Amelia shifted in her seat. "Okay?"
Bates smiled gently and took a sip from the coffee on his desk. "Do you know what happened to Phillip over the weekend?"
Oh, this is about that.
Amelia nearly sighed in relief. "Yeah, I know. " She started simply, knowing the real story was probably something ridiculous but not ratting anyone out yet. "He says he fell down stairs, which he did, but the whole, " She made a circling motion around her face. "thing has something to do with a basketball." She laughed pathetically. "It's all rather embarrassing.
The police officer in the corner looked to Kenish expectantly. The four adults suddenly exchanges silent glances to each other.
Amelia tapped her fingers on the chair's seat. "Is...that all?"
Bates snapped his head to look at her with the same gentle smile. "Yes, you're. Sorry for the confusion."
Amelia mumbled something about it being fine before hurrying out of the office, shealmost ran right into Bobby Drake when he stopped right in front of her.
"I...I am so sorry." He shook his head as of he were about to cry. "I'm sorry."
Amy squinted. "For what?" She asked hesitantly.
"For everything I did." Bobby swallowed hard. "For using him and then leaving him in the dirt. For denying everything.
"Oh, so you're finally gonna admit you couldn't keep it in your pants?" The blonde crossed her arms, and almost laughed. Why the hell was he apologizing to her?
"Yes! If thats what you want me to do! I'm sorry, Amelia. I'm sorry I didn't know."
"Didn't know what?" Amy threw out her arms. "Did something happen to make you finally wake up?"
Bobby stepped back as if she struck him. "Don't you know?"
"Know what? What did he do now? I don't why you guys care about it so much? He's not that big of a deal!"
"I'm pretty sure your brother killing himself is a big deal!" Bobby shouted at her.
It was Amelia's turn to step back. "What are you talking about?"
"I heard that Phil-"
"Shut up." Amelia spat, turning and trying to walk calmly away from Bobby.
"I really am sorry!" He shouted behind her.
Amy started sprinting, her phone already out as she screamed at another girl in the bathroom to leave. She leaned against the wall holding he breath. "Please he okay. Please be okay." The blonde repeated to herself as the phone rang.
"Yeah?" Phillip's voice ran through the speaker to her ears.
"Oh, thank God." Amelia sighed. Sliding down the wall and letting her tears flow free.
"Amelia?" Phillip asked, suddenly on alert. "What's wrong? Where are you?"
"I'm fine." She insisted, sniffing. "I...where are you!?" The girl yelled.
"I'm at home, jeez. Relax, Bates sent me on fake probation."
"Fake probation? What the hell..?" Amy sighed and dropped her head on her knees. "People are saying you killed yourself what the hell is that all about?"
"Whoa. What?" Phil scoffed on the other end. "I get rejected and suddenly I'm suicidal?"
"I guess so!" Amy yelled into her phone and ran a hand through her hair. "What even happened?"
"Um.." Phil hesitated and the sound of shuffling came from his end. "I kinda accidentally dragged David Matthews out of the closet by asking him to prom, which I didn't really want to go to anyway, but he got pissed at me, rejected me, and then Bates sent me on my way home."
"Well you're an idiot!" She hissed. "People think you're dead! Bobby came up and apologized to me!"
"What?" It sounded like he stood. "What did he say to you?"
"Relax," The blonde scoffed. "He thinks it's over what he did."
"Please. Someone kick him off his pedestal."
Amy laughed, picking herself up off the floor. She let out a deep breath. "But you're good?"
"Yeah, Amy. I'm good."
"Good." She smiled, flipping her phone closed. Phil was fine, everything fine, just have to tell everyone else before the rumor spreads to much. She brushed off her clothes, pocketed the phone, and went to face however many people were willing to ask her about it.
It quite suddenly became less fine when she found herself rushing into the Susan Haywell school of dance ten minutes late and still adjusting her bun. She was finally old enough to reach the advanced classes with fifteen year olds and up and now she's running in late and underprepared.
"Via, I am so sorry." Amelia started, panting from sprinting from the subway station. The blonde finally tied the ribbon holding her bun tight as the tall, professional Latino looking woman turned to face her. "I know this is like the third time, but I promise it'll be the last. And I can do-"
"Honey, did you have to walk here in the cold?" The dance instructor questioned as she saw how red the young girl was. She cupped the others face in her hands and looked around, some parents still mingling as the others stretched in the practice room.
"Well, kind of, but that's only because-"
Via sighed and put her hand on his hips, looking to scold. "This is a very prestigious commitment you have to take care of." She started, voice strong but the eyes carrying underlying softness that Amelia knew was there to tell her 'I'm only yelling at you so other kids will think I will do the same'. "I can't have you coming in here looking like a mess and unprepared for and hour and half long class. Five days a week? You cannot be late. You need to fix the problem as soon as possible or you will be staying with me after class for extra conditioning." Via have the final warning before letting out another sigh and clapping her hands to start the class. "Three more minutes of stretches, then we start with ballonné as warm ups, okay? Then we can move on to the chiseaux pas de and pirouettes! On point!" She waved her hands and left them to continue, setting a timer to exactly three minutes.
Amelia quickly hurried over to her partner, Julian Keller, to stretch as much as she could. Julian Keller, born into wealth and shipped off to Xavier's for behavior adjustment. Maybe a smidge of jerk overall but a nice guy. The blonde delicately placed a leg over the bar and started tugging on her hamstrings and quads, doing as many rushed-stretches as she could before Via was at the head of the room again.
"Okay, who the hot muscly guy with the dark hair and weird hands?" Abby dragged Amelia over to her in the car as soon as she shut the door. "I'm talking about the black haired one with amazing biceps and lifts you into the air with the fancy pleas or whatever you call them." She waved her hands around and shifted to look out the window for him.
"Julian? He goes to Xavier's, I wouldn't peg him for you. He's kind of a jerk sometimes." Amelia shrugged, organizing the duffle bag in her lap and taking out the ribbon in her tight bun.
Abby laughed and started to pull out of the parking lot. "Well he's like, an /eight/. You an /eight/ in your ballet class." She smirked and tapped her nails on the steering wheel. "But what's up with the hands? They look eighth grade Johnny Tremain happened all over again."
Amelia sighed. "I don't know, I think it was something about an accident, or something with an explosion. His parents are loaded though so they were able to pay for the reparation surgery."
"He's hot and he's rich? Damn."
"Aesthetically pleasing, definitely." She shrugged. Abby's pump beeped.
"Look at that, I'm due for a candy bar." The blonde smiled happily, checking the little green pump with a tube going into her abdomen. "If I pass on on the two minute drive back home, I have insulin in the back seat." She patted Amelia's arm and felt around for the Malley's bar she should have somewhere in the glove compartment.
The other girl found what she was looking for and opened it for Abby. "Isn't it like, illegal to drive when your levels are low?" She raised a brow.
Abby shrugged. "Probably." She tore off some of the wrapper with her teeth and bit into the chocolate pretzel bar. "It doesn't really matter, if I was 't eating this my pump would do it for me anyway, so.." She laughed, drifting into the correct lane to pull into Stark Tower.
"Thank you." Amelia said when they parked, sliding easily out of the car.
Abby 'pfft'd. "It's fine. I can't check out hot ballerina men in skin tight leotards anywhere but that place."
"I'm sure there's somewhere that will let you do just that."
Abby went on as if Amelia hadn't spoke. "I will be thanking you when Julian Keller is helping me plea into bed."
~3 Weeks Later~
"Well." Claire sighed as she unlocked the rather expensive, large door to her family's apartment in one of nicest areas in Manhattan. "Are you ready for chaos?"
Mark huffed a laugh and shoved his hands in his pockets. "It can't be that bad."
Claire rolled her eyes. "I obviously have not warned you enough. There are children, everywhere." Mark shrugged and she shook her head, opening the door.
If Markus didn't know any better, he'd say the place almost looked nicer than Tony's. It looked like some classic Sound Of Music mansion, just a bit smaller. The grand staircase in the middle that separates in opposite directions to what he was guessing were bedrooms. Two halls underneath each staircase led to what looked like some fancy kitchen and the other was a hallway to more rooms. There were a few trinkets of what looks like Native American weapons or pots and such. Not unreasonable with her and David's complexion. Though Mark's never actually thought about whether their family was traditional like that. "Wow,"
"Yeah," Claire sighed like it was nothing. She waved her hands toward the kitchen hallway. "That's the kitchen where Mauro helps out with cooking and nanny-ing, then behind it is the lavish/ dining room." She pivoted to the other hallway. "Down there are my mom and dad's office - we're not allowed to in there unless someone's bleeding - there's the playroom, and the den, the boys 'sports room', some of my sister's dance place, 'the study area and quiet room', then some storage rooms that sometimes fill in for the kids 'fashion shows' and stuff, and then the living room and it connects with the dining room through the library."
"Sounds...kid friendly. You guys have a library?"
"Yep." Claire started towards the offices to the left. "C'mon, times to meet the villagers." Mark nodded and followed her, her hand trailing along the walls until they stopped in front of one room. Inside there were leather couches spread out in front of a large TV, some colorful bean bag chairs, and more couches on the other side with another TV with Xboxes and Wii's and many other gaming systems with a large cabinet. Stray open doors showed tons of games and movies.
"What exactly does your dad do?" Mark chuckled and smiled at Claire, she in return laughed.
"He put in like, tons of money in Apple's and Microsoft's stock in the 70's and now," Claire shrugged. "Millions come our way."
"Claire!" A voice sounded from the hallway. A boy not older than five came bounding down the hallway, definitely lighter than Claire with a stuffed dog in his hand.
"Yes Eli?" Claire leaned down towards him.
"Momma said it's dinner time, and she wants to meet your boyfriend." He hugged the dog close to his chest. He looked to Mark and let his mouth hang open, he stood on his tiptoes to whisper in his sister's ear. "He's really tall."
The girl laughed and nodded. "Yeah, he is pretty tall." She stood up when Eli ran off and had to look up at Mark. "You are really tall."
"I'm fairly certain that your whole family is just really short." Mark shrugged and gestured to the way towards the kitchen. She shrugged and started to the main hallway, veering through the kitchen. Everywhere there was a steaming stove or a cooling oven with dishes sitting on the marble countertops.
Claire put a hand out in front of Mark's chest to stop him. "Mauro!" She shouted. "You should probably meet him first." She said to the boy.
"Clairise!" A large, rounded bellied Hawaiian man came from behind a shelf and spread his arms out wide. He turned to Markus, who held out a hand. Mauro ignored the hand to go straight for a hug around Mark's frame. They separated and Mauro laughed clapped the teenager on the back. "Skinny boy, ah?"
"But I trust you can fatten him up?" Claire smiled. "This is Mark. Mark this is Mauro."
"Hey Mauro." Mark gave him a small wave before cracking his back.
"Hello, Mark." Mauro shot him a big smile and placed his hands over his belly. "It's so nice to meet one of Claire's friends. Finally." He chuckled and placed his arm around Claire. "I've known this one since she and her brother were born! Momma Matthews knew there was two on the way, so they kept me as chef and to look after the keiki." He chuckled.
Mark nodded and put his hands in his pockets. Claire leaned over to him. "Keiki is kids."
"Ah," He nodded again. Mauro clapped him on the back with a smile as goodbye and retreated back behind the shelf, near stoves and ovens.
Claire patted her hands together before jabbing a thumb to the dining hall. "Sooo...ready to meet the queen of the land?"
Mark smiled and took her hand. "Delighted."
Claire smiled back and led him through the back doors of the kitchen. The dining hall was like any lavish, dish dining room. A giant hanging chandelier, the red velvet carpet, the table that can seat sixteen. At the front of the table, some regular chairs were replaced with high chairs for the little kids. Eli, another boy and two other girls were in the high chairs.
"The one next to Eli is Jake," Claire pointed and the other boy smiled widely at mark and waved. "Then the girls are Katy and Anna." She pointed to the two toddlers, maybe two or three. Anna waved, Katy didn't. Mark smiled and waved back.
"Hi guys." He greeted them and sat down next to Eli, Claire by his other side. The door by the head of the table opened to reveal a short woman. Black hair, like Claire and David, the other kids that Mark met had dirty blonde hair. She smiled sweetly at Markus, who stood to shake her outstretched.
"You must be the boy I hear about all the time." She started warmly. Kathryn Matthews was like a sweet, young looking mother that regular people would have. She put both her hands over his. "I'm so glad to finally meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Matthews." Mark smiled back and pulled away from her hands to sit back down.
"I've been telling Claire to bring you over here for ages." She told him, sitting down herself and wiping something off of Katy's chin. "Sorry for the late notice, but Leonard didn't have any other free time to meet you."
"Oh, it's alright Mrs. Matthews. It wasn't that short of a notice at all." Mark waved her off. But seriously how is almost three weeks a short notice? "Thank you for having me."
"Oh, like I said I love having the kid's friends over." Kathryn smiled at him, turning to Mauro when he knocked from the kitchen.
"I think the kids are ready for dinner?" The housekeeper smiled knowingly with his head popped out from the door.
Kathryn nodded and gestured for him to open the doors. The children decided the gesture was enough to come racing through, all taking seats that seemed assigned. The older kids ignored Markus, racing to their seat as people seemingly out if nowhere placed platters if food in from of them. No one really said anything to the whole of the table, just ate and chit-chatted with the ones around them. David saw Mark, hummed, and sat down without another glance to him.
"I hope you aren't a vegetarian or anything Markus." Mrs. Matthews apologized, gently cutting the chicken breast that was on her plate.
Mark shook his head. "Oh, no Mrs. Matthews, it's fi-" he was cut off by the front door slamming in the foyer.
Claire hummed drolly and pushed her food around. "Dad's home.."
Mark blinked at the way she said it with such dread. A tall man came through the doors unannounced, black hair sleeked back with a crooked nose, a suit coat hanging from his arm and annoyance clear on his face. Mark still stood politely and stretched out his hand.
Mr. Matthews only looked Mark up and down, ignoring his outstretched hand, dark eyes judging. "You're scrawny." He deadpanned, sighing like it was an inconvenience. Mark swallowed thickly, nodded, and dropped his hand.
"Leonard." The Mrs. scolded her husband.
"Kathryn, look at him." Leonard scoffed as if Mark wasn't there. "I don't want my daughter to lower herself to this."
"Dad!" Claire banged her fist on the table, looking to her mother. The 'do something' was written clear on her face.
Mark opened his mouth to say something that was the complete opposite of what he wanted to. "Mr. Matthews, I'm sorry I'm not what you expected, but I have this condition-"
"Yes, yes. I know. The boy who can barely walk up the stairs or do a lap around the track. I am aware of what you can and cannot do, Banner and I expected a little more...strength, from you. It would be so easy for you to push yourself to be normal and yet you do not. So if it's pity you're looking for, I will not give it to you. And neither will my daughter."
"Leonard!" Kathryn Matthews stood to scold he husband again. She clenched her jaw tight but held her head high. The restraint not to throw something was obvious in her eyes. "I think you should have dinner in your office tonight."
Claire's father eyed his daughter, then his wife, they didn't back down. "Fine." He scoffed, brushed off his suit coat, and started out of the foyer and through the halls to his office.
Kathryn turned back to their guest, ready to apologize till she was blue in the face. Mark beat her to it.
"I'm just gonna go." He tried to smile and stood away from the table. He just realized that every one of the children were silent. Either obviously watching the scene unfold or old enough to try to hide it.
Claire tried to plead with him. "Mark, please-"
"No, Claire. It's fine." He insisted and walked himself to the door.
"Pete, Abby was already geeking out to me about Absolute-Zero thingy, so go bother her-" Phillip was cut off answering the door by David Matthews staring at him, inches between their faces.
"Why did you not tell me you lived here?" The stench of alcohol coming from his breath made Phil take a step back. "In mother fucking Stark Tower?"
"Because I...don't live here?" Phil lied thinly. This was something he was not prepared for.
"Don't bullshit me Barton." David burped, stumbling through the door to catch himself on a counter. "I got Claire drunk to tell me where you lived. Felt bad for you're sorry ass cuz I thought it was, you know, dead?" He slurred and stepped fully into the apartment.
"You got your sister drunk?"
"Not the point!" David shouted, throwing his hand up to point at the ceiling. "I thought you blew your own brains out, so I wanted to apologize to whoever the fuck you live with. Claire told me it was all bullshit! A ruse! You rused us!" Pointed to the redhead accusingly.
Phil blinked. "How does Claire know about where I live, what else does she know?"
"Her stupid boyfriend told her." David answered, almost bitterly. "I knew there was something weird about you guys... He didn't even look upset. Came to dinner at my house tonight and everything.."
"David, you can't tell anyone else I'm here, okay?" Phil told him slowly. The black haired teen ignored him, tripping on his way to the couch. He threw his arms up and spun on one foot before unceremoniously falling onto the couch. "Wait, who told her?" The redhead asked, Mark wasn't very good at the whole lying thing, but telling his girlfriend literally everything just to get some was a little too far.
"Her boyfriend! The tall one!" David shouted. Phil's eyes widened in panic as he rushed over to the couch, putting a finger to his lips.
"Do not let Jarvis get suspicious." He whispered violently. David nodded from under him. Phil sighed as the other boy confirmed. He'll kill Mark later, he's got a drunk boy on his couch and Amelia shouldn't be home from dance for another half hour. "Go home, David."
"I will do nothing of the sorts." David pouted, crossing is arms. "I wanted to apologize to your father for making you kill yourself, but obviously that's not going to happen." He rolled his eyes like Phillip being alive made it a huge inconvenience for his plans. Phil paused, eventually leaving to let him sulk, and call a cab, or hell even drive David home himself. "I wanted to say yes, you know." David muttered quietly into the couch.
Phil blinked. "What?" He put the wall phone Clint insisted was better than a cordless one back in it's place.
"I wanted to say yes!" David repeated, trying to roll over but ended up with his backside on the floor. "But I freaked out because everyone knew I liked you."
"David, what are you talking about?" Phil sighed.
"I wanted to go to prom with you!" The teenager sighed. "If you'd just ask me in private or something.."
Phil stopped, put the phone completely back on the wall, and went back to the living room toe it across from David. They sat quiet for a moment, David straining to look at him wide eyed and mouth open. He threw himself up off the floor, stumbling to the kitchen. "I wanna go home." He demanded childishly.
Phil watched him, arching an eyebrow at his question. He eventually sighed, got up and snatched his keys from the ring on one of the cabinet doors. "Fine, c'mon."
David straightened his back as if he won the argument. He walked proudly out the door and the ride to the parking garage was no different. The only time he slumped was in the car, like it was exhausting to stand straight for a longer. They rode in silence.
"You cannot tell anyone about this, okay? David?" Phillip glanced over to the other, only to see him staring blankly out the window, arms crossed tightly. "David?" He repeated.
"I know." David whispered the words so quietly that Phil almost thought he didn't. He kept driving. Eventually they ended up in front of the Parker Estate Apartments and Phillip unlocked the passenger door.
David didn't move. "We're here." Phil told him lightly.
The taller boy eventually looked back at him. "I know I can't tell anyone." He assured him.
Phil nodded. "I hope so."
David sighed and looked back at the window. Phil bit his lip. Just as the redhead was about to repeat that were at his place, he was quickly cut off by David grabbing him by the shirt and smashing their lips together.
It ended as soon as it began, David pulled away but kept their faces close. Phillip didn't act until David whispered to him.
"I promise."
They both stared at each other in silence, David with a strange intense feeling and Phillip just watching him do it. David clenched his jaw, uncurled his hand from the other's shirt, and slipped out if the car without a word. Phil watched him until he face planted through the door. Attendants rushed to help him up.
It was the next morning before he confronted the younger boy. Phillip was already sitting hunched over the bar, hands folded and waiting patiently for the other. Mark flinched when he saw the redhead.
"What?" He grumbled, petting Mara's head unenthusiastically. "It's like nine on a Sunday."
"You're an idiot." Phillip threw at him, frowning.
"What?"
"You told your girlfriend everything."
"Oh," Mark rubbed his eyes and sat across from him. "You found out about that?"
"Yes." Phillip spat, venom obvious. "And apparently possibly a shit ton of other people did! C'mon man, that was total dick move."
"She's not gonna tell anyone!" Mark insisted.
"She already did!" Phillip hissed. "David showed up in my floor last night, wasted as hell and I had to drop everything to take him home before someone found out!"
"Well I'm sorry the someone you like showed up at your door!" Mark rolled his eyes. "So like, two harmless people in the whole frickin world know where you live, it's fine."
Phillip mimicked the action. "You're an idiot. Do you know much kissing ass everyone has to do to keep this secret and actual secret? And you ruin it for one shot at the pussy?"
"You're disgusting when you talk about women, you know that?" Mark scoffed. Phillip groaned.
"Oh, c'mon it's so weird down there!" He tried to keep his voice down. "It's just two legs, then a slit right down the middle! And there's like five holes for different shit that comes out of the mythical uterus! Like what the hell do they have down there that requires them to piss out of a different whole and bleed the insides of their body out!"
"I did not need an explanation of why you are gay at nine in morning!" Mark stopped himself from saying anything else when Darcy suddenly patted in.
"Why is my son and my nephew not so loudly discussing vaginas in my kitchen?" She sighed and grabbed an apple from the fridge, pouring herself some orange juice.
Phillip laughed fakely and pointed to Mark when her backed was turned. "Don't tell anyone else." He mouthed.
Phillip met up with different men at that trashy motel every Friday and Saturday for three weeks. He lasted that long, finally when he got home, he threw up. He did the routine mop up anything on the floor with a bucket of bleach and use as much Febreeze they had. It was stupid how he couldn't have waited until he got to his own bathroom, no, he had to use the kitchen's. God, how he wanted to stop this, stop sleeping around like a literal whore. But he had over five thousand from it, some guys paid him more for...stuff. It was sick, but it was a deal. He already got Red off his ass, now he's jus gotta deal with Marvi. Few more weeks, then he's off.
"Hey," Amelia almost gave him a heart attack when she quietly greeted him from behind. "Are you okay? I heard you...emitting toxic fluids."
"Yeah," Phil relaxed and smoothed out his exterior from where he was on the couch, his fingers sticking out of the cast tapping to the arm. "Stomach ache. It's nothing."
"Okay..." Amelia eyes him but shrugged anyway, plopping down on the chair by him. "Do you wanna watch The Help with me?"
Phil sighed and rested his head on his palm, elbow resting on the armrest. "You mean the movie you've seen seven billion times?" He arched an eyebrow and the blonde nodded before grumbling. "Fine."
"Good boy." Amelia smiled sweetly at him and popped the DVD in the player. It wasn't five minutes after Skeeter accepted the job as Ms. Myrna that Phil fell asleep.
~One Week Later~
"Come rollerskating with me tomorrow."
Mark froze in his seat.
"What?" He swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why?"
"Because it'll be fun." Claire watched him with her stupid cute blue eyes and the those stupid pleading cute lips. "And I want you to roller skate with me."
Mark sighed, slumping into the swing they were on on Claire's balcony. She had her head on his good leg, her legs pulled up so her feet were on the swing and she was on her back. "I don't know, in case you haven't noticed, there's a bit of a setback with me and balance. And strength. And speed. And anything that has to do with shoes that have wheels on them."
She laughed and played with his fingers that were over her chest. "You'll be fine. I'll catch you."
"It's a little more than that, Claire." Mark warned her, already feeling anxious.
"Oh, come on. We'll go to Hover's down the street and I can teach you. Tons of people fall, if that's you're problem."
"It's not falling I'm worried about..." Mark sighed and shifted in his seat insecurely. "Other people can get up again."
"Oh, that's not an excuse." Claire rolled her eyes and sat up on the swing. "You got push yourself or you're just gonna get stuck in some bubble."
"I am not in a bubble!" Mark defended. "I know when I'm not strong enough for something, that doesn't mean I don't improve."
"Then improve! Come rollerskating with me."
"Claire, no." Mark scolded her again and stood from the porch swing. "I'm not going rollerskating with you, I like being trapped in my bubble of comfort and minor instability. I don't need you to try to fix me, and I certainly don't need you to tell me what I can and can't do. So just shut up about it." He clenched his jaw and stormed back into her house. Promptly leaving the apartment.
Markus rang the bell to Claire's apartment, the flowers in his hands. David answered.
"If you're here to yell at her more, she's asleep." The other teen glared at him.
Mark sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know, I'm an idiot-"
"You're a dick." David corrected.
"That too. I was...embarrassed."
"She was trying to share something she actually likes with you. Which isn't much. You better be here to apologize."
"I am." Mark insisted, holding up the flowers. David eyed them suspiciously.
"Where'd you get these? A back alley?" He scoffed critically.
"Hey, not a lot of flower shops are open at ten o clock!" Mark defended and sighed. "Can I at least leave them by her door or something?" David stared at him hard for a moment, let out a deep breath, and let him through the doorway. "Thank you."
Markus slipped off his shoes as David padded off to his room on the left side of the grand staircase in the middle of the family's foyer. He started behind him, only to go the opposite direction to the girls side. He knocked on the last door. "Claire?" Mark asked. She didn't answer. "Claire, you know I'm sorry. Please let me talk to you."
The door didn't open on it's own, but the teenager pushed it open anyway. Empty bed, bathroom light on.
"Claire.." Mark stood in the doorway of her bathroom, not talking from either shock or the fear of making worse. His girlfriend, standing over the sink all while just sobbing her eyes out.
Letting slow drops of blood drop down into the sink from her forearms.
"What are you doing here?" Claire whispered, horrified as she started to pull the sleeves of her shirt down. "You're not supposed to be here yet." She shook her head and tried to wipe her eyes with her sleeves.
Mark could only stand there in silence. He had no process going through his mind that could possibly say the right thing. But he could see the shame in Claire's eyes right then, all Mark wanted to do was do something to make everything better, but he couldn't.
Claire mistook the silence as a disgusted gesture.
"No, please, Markus I'm so sorry." She sobbed while shaking her head and wrapped her arms around her torso. "Please just leave. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I ruined everything. I-I sorry."
"Claire, no." Mark took a hesitant step forward and held out his hand. Claire backed away from him and tripped to sit down on the bathtub ledge. "Please don't think that. Don't think any of that." He shook his head and didn't ask her before sitting down and wrapping his arms around her tightly. He kissed the top of her head like he's seen Bruce do with Darcy so many times. "You didn't ruin anything."
Claire kept her arms closely to her chest and sobbed into Mark's. "I'm sorry." she kept mumbling.
Eventually, Claire calmed down to just sniffing every once in a while. Mark pulled off of her and grabbed a washcloth. He dug around in the cabinet above the mirror and eventually found rubbing alcohol and bandages.
"This'll sting." He warned gently, pushing up her sleeves. Claire visibly flinched when she saw Mark see the bloody mess that was her arms. He cleaned them as gently as he could and wrapped them.
"Why couldn't you just leave?" Claire asked dryly, not looking away from her forearms.
Mark hesitated. "Because I needed to be here." He answered simply. That was it. He knew he just couldn't leave her, bleeding into a sink and obviously upset about something. He didn't stay just because it was a dick thing not to, but he honestly wanted to just he there for her.
Abby would chalk it up to love.
Claire just watched him, not moving from the tub when he did. Mark went to the sink to soak out the bloody rag and tossed it into the hamper in her room. He came back and sat next to her again. She swallowed thickly. "You're not gonna tell my parents, right?"
Mark took her hand in his, trying to ignore how it was shaking. "It's not my place." He sighed and interlaced their fingers. "But I think your mom should know. And Mauro."
She shook her head. "They already have to deal with enough, don't need to worry about me too."
Mark sighed but didn't push her yet. He was assuming they deserved to know what was going on, but this was her choice. "Fine. But I still think they should know...Not now." He added quickly. "But eventually."
"How did you know what to do?" Claire asked suddenly, looking up.
Mark almost laughed. "I had no idea what to do." He shrugged and sat so their shoulder's touched. "So...what do you want to do?"
"I don't know." She shrugged and leaned to rest her head on his shoulder. "Can we forget this ever happened?"
"Only if you let me help you."
"Mark," Claire sighed and curled into herself. "I need it."
He rested his head on her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "And I need you to be okay."
"I am okay." She insisted monotonically.
"This is not okay." Mark scolded and stood. He hesitated only for a moment, but pulled off his shirt to reveal his torso. Decorated with scars of scorches and gashes and electrical burns and all places he need skin grafts. The sickly pale difference between replacement skin and natural. The deep scars o wounds that must' e tried to heal only to be opened again. "Look at this." He told her, voice inexplicably tight.
Claire swallowed and kept darting her eyes away from it.
"It's not gonna go away. These will never go away, and neither will those." He nodded towards her arm. "Every time I see these Claire, I'm taken right back. In ten years they'll still hurt, in ten months, they'll still hurt. And yours will too. They'll take you back to what you keep feeling and you'll never get out of it because those will constantly remind you of what they mean. I don't want you to stop just because it'll help you now, but I hope it'll help you later."
Claire wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "That was the cheesiest thing you've ever said to me." She choked out a laugh, standing to wrap her arms around him. "You should call me when you feel like that."
Mark grinned and hugged her back. "So should you...I'm sorry I yelled at you." He told her seriously, remembering why he was there in the first place.
Claire sighed and pulled away from him, starting to brush bloody cloths into the trash. "Sorry I forced you into something you weren't comfortable with."
He sighed heavily and sat against the sink counter. "Yeah, well I kinda need to get out of my box a little...and it doesn't help that I am insecure as fuck."
Claire exhaled a laugh and leaned the same way as him. "You've been hanging out with Phillip too long, Markus. His mouth's running off on you."
"I'm surprised that's the only thing." Mark chuckled, moving his hands to lightly cover hers. "You're gonna ask for help, right?" He asked seriously.
She sighed and and let her free hand twist around her hair. "I think it's time for me to try."
Mark smiled at her and nudged her shoulder with his. "That's my girl." He stayed silent and glanced to the flowers, laying abandon des at the door. He slowly walked out and picked them up, handing them to Claire. "Will you go to prom with me?"
She laughed. "I was planning on it, yeah."
"Yeah? I don't even get a yes?" Mark scoffed playfully.
"I don't even get a fancy dance number?"
Amelia tapped the edge of her fingernails against her mug of tea. It was Oolong, Bruce introduced her to it, he shouldn't've, it's almost all she has now in the winter. Well, it was getting to be slush time. The 'snow' on the street was turned to a gross gray slop from the gasoline and tires, any other snow was awkward blocks of ice with fringy slush hanging around it's core. She kicks some with her foot, the rest of her figure resting wrapped up in a thick blanket on a cheap lawn chair out on the balcony. Clint's been hating this time of year.
The blonde frowned at the light blue nail polish that's half chipped off since a week ago. Henry Miller told her its disgusting when girls don't take care of things like hair and nails and feet and ears. She may or may not have believed him. She may or may not have since been following the weight loss trapezoid Amelia happened to stumble upon on the Internet. It wasn't unhealthy dieting, she never stopped herself from eating something she didn't want to, it was just what she was eating. Cut out sugars and grains in the food pyramid. It wasn't that hard. She already was down a size.
She may or may not have been trying to weasel her way into a group of respectable people. She may or may not have conned Darcy into taking her shopping to get new clothes to possibly try and get said girls to not dislike her.
Amelia sighed, chipping off more of the polish on her nails. She blew out a hot breath of air and watched it disappear into the winter/spring air. It was nice, Phillip was out doing God knows what, and Clint was coming home after his yearly month-or-two-long stretch of a mission later that night. It had been quiet without him. Half worrying, 'I wonder if I should call him' quiet, half, 'finally I can just be alone for a while' quiet. Amelia wonders if her mother ever felt like that.
Natasha had the reddest hair Amelia's ever seen and smelled like vanilla and steel. She would put her to bed every night with her stuffed bear and hum until she fell asleep. There was one Christmas that Natasha found her up at five in the morning, staring at their Christmas tree but not daring to touch any of the presents, the redhead curled up with her on the couch and listened to the girl guess what was in the presents. This was all Amelia remembers about her mother. Phillip does not usually talk about anything he remembers, and Amelia doesn't usually ask.
Phil hasn't been saying much of anything lately. Says he found a job over on the West side and has been pretty hush-hush about it. Whenever she asks, his response is a simple 'you don't know the place'. It annoys her to no end. Must be something illegal, the whole fiasco that happened months ago that she wasn't supposed to tell anyone about was eating at her. While Phillip could be a complete idiot at times, Amelia was usually not. And neither was she blind. Something probably self destructive because /come on/ that kid's got a list of self esteem issues a mile long that he insists doesn't exist. He got his cast off, she wasn't even sure if Clint knew he broke his wrist in the first place. Amy would feel more badly for him if the jerk personality didn't come with it, and people start expecting her to do something.
Or maybe she's just being selfish. That's been a concern. Was it selfish to want her brother to stop acting like a toddler because it was affecting her? Or just common sense? Not to mention many if her friends have often expressed that she was rudely blunt. "You really need to stop complaining" "You're acting like you're on your period" "Just grow a pair and do it" "You look like crap" "Someone took a bitch pill this morning". Apparently peers don't find criticism as helpful as she does. In ballet it only helped, it gymnastics it only helped, she hasn't done much of any training for a long time now, didn't even carry weapons on her person anymore. The loss of interest in things makes Phil poke fun at how she's probably not even related to him or Clint.
She finished the tea, cold becoming colder from the air around them, the blanket not doing much to help her either. With all source of warmth gone, she sighed, stood, folded the lawn chair and headed inside. It looked cleaner than the previous day. The maids must've snuck in when they thought she wasn't there. It was weird to think that people were hired to stay out of sight and clean up all the crap people throw around. Not to mention all the R&D floors below them. Apparently the city would not let Tony build a ninety story building as a house in the middle of Manhattan. He turned it into a work space for some SI employees. Amy didn't mind people forever working below them, they need a code to get the elevator to stop in their floors anyway.
But she quickly scans the polished tables, neat couch cushions, and clean dishes that put themselves away, and locked herself in her room until she inevitably have to deal with someone's something.
"Are you a virgin?"
Phillip nearly spit out his drink.
She said it with about ninety percent normality in her voice. Phil knew that Amelia was pretty comfortable with the topic of sex. She didn't care that much, not yet anyway. But as blunt as she was normally, Phil could say that he didn't expect that.
"Uh," The redhead stuttered and wiped his chin. "Why do you care?" He tried to ask nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his desk.
Amelia leaned against his bedpost and sighed. "Well, a bunch of the other girls have already done it, and I know Abby banged Tom Skulski last year. So I wanted to know, I don't know, when you're supposed to...do it. I guess?"
Phillip looked to the floor like he was thinking something over real hard. He bit his lip and looked up to her. "Abby banged Tom Skulski?"
"Phil!" Amelia whined and rolled her eyes. "That's not the point."
"Okay, okay." Phil sighed and held up a finger. "One, whoever you're hanging out with, they're sluts."
"Who? Heather and them?"
"Yeah, Heather and that Brooke and Maria. Emma's cool, Kyle's cool. I approve. But," Phil shook his head and kept on track. "You can lose your virginity, whenever the fuck you want to, Amy." He stated. "No one should care whether you're a nun, or...I don't know, a Heather."
"Someone who looses their virginity at sixteen?" Amelia crossed her arms.
"No-well, yeah." Phil shrugged. "But just...just don't worry about it. Virginity's just a concept, you can lose when you want to. No, that's stupid too." He shook his head and waved his arms in a criss-cross. "You don't...lose your virginity." He started slowly. "You give it away. No one can take it, you can't lose it, it doesn't matter how much sex you've had, you have it until you want to give it away. The way you want to."
"Did you give away your virginity the way you wanted to?" She asked bluntly.
Phil bit his lip, glancing back to the dimmed computer at his desk. "I think it's late for me to give it away." He said.
Amelia rolled her eyes. "You literally contradicted everything you tried to tell me." She sighed. Phillip didn't say anything else. "Well, we need milk. Dad's coming home tonight, I'm making dinner."
"I will get milk later then." Phil turned back to his computer. He frowned. "What's the date today?"
"Twenty second?"
"Shit!" Phillip cursed. "I missed my fucking ACT."
"Are you serious?" Amelia asked, standing straight. "You can take it again, right?"
"Well, yeah. I'll have to reschedule and I haven't even studied at all." He scoffed, placing a hand through his hair.
Amelia shrugged. "Then just schedule another one and get someone to study with you. Liz Cruise is a really good tutor."
Phil scoffed again and kicked the chair to wheel across his room. "I'm taking a shower." He declared, wheeling into the bathroom and shutting the door.
Amelia rolled her eyes. "You need to get milk!" She reminded him. "And Peter's birthday is in two months."
Phil's head popped out of the door. "How old is he again?"
"Nineteen."
Phil 'pfft'd. "And people rag on me for never being able to finish high school."
Amelia rolled her eyes once again. "You know Tony and Steve wanted Abby and him to be in school together." The shower turned on.
"Doesn't mean I can't use that to kick him off his pedestal."
"You're an ass, Phillip Alexander." Amelia scoffed and left the room without another word.
~One Week Later~
"Okay, be honest. Does this make me look a total slut?" Abby sounded from the dressing room at this hand made dress and suit parlor in Queens. She opened the curtains to reveal herself in a fitting black dress, slit going up the leg and neck definitely below her neck.
"I think it looks dashing." Caroline, the girl's shopping attendant, sounded from the side.
"Well if you're going for that, kinda." Amy shrugged, turning back to her book.
"Can you pay attention to me for more than two seconds?" Abby whined and turned back to the three paneled mirror, turning so she could see the back more clearly. "You didn't even look at the whole thing."
"This is not exactly my area of expertise." Amy hummed. "Are you even going to prom with anyone?" She closed the book and put it back in her bag.
"I was hoping hot Julian with the weird hands."
"I don't think he'll go with you if you keep referring to him as hot Julian with the weird hands."
Abby rolled her eyes, running a finger through her hair. "Whatever, do I look like a slut?"
"According to any horny teenage douche who believes women like it when men cat call them, you're asking for it."
"So...what does that mean?" Abby frowned. "I'm wearing normal clothes?"
"It seems like you're going to a charity event more than a high school prom."
"Less black?"
"Yes." Amy nodded, tilting her head a little. "And if you want to show off your legs, just get a shorter dress, the slit makes you look like Angelina Jolie."
Abby nodded, going back to the dressing room. "What do you think about pink?" She asked from behind the curtain.
"Are you going for cute or fun?" Amy asked, picking at a nail.
"Uh..." Abby debated, waiting a beat. "How bout pink for fun and a mix of something darker to even out all the brightness?"
Amy shrugged. "Sounds great." She turned to Caroline. "Got anything?"
"I most certainly do." Caroline said in a chipper voice and nodded. She turned away, coming back with a shorter dress. It went to right above the knees, was mostly a light shade of pink with red mixed in with to give a shimmering ruby look in the light.
"Looks good, considering what color it is." Amelia commented, than if the attendant as she handed the dress behind the curtain.
"I don't know how I'm pulling this off, but I am so pulling this off." Abby announced a few moments later, having the dress on her figure as she pulled away the curtain. "I'm really liking this one." She smiled at their attendant. "I'll take it."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure Amy, I've been picking out dresses since I was five, I know what I like." Abby defended, pulling back the curtain again and handing the dress to Caroline.
Amelia put her hands up. "I'm just saying."
"Well I'll just check this lovely choice out at the register and you girls can be on your way!" Caroline smiled and took off to her register, after Abby handed her Tony's Palladium card.
The blonde frowned at the younger one's disapproving look. "What? He lets me use it for school events."
"Oh, I'm sure he does." Amelia nodded sardonically. Abby rolled her eyes.
"Please," She scoffed and turned to the mirror to play with her hair. "Phil's just ruined you because he's a drug dealer or something and now you don't trust anyone."
"I'm pretty sure-"
"Doesn't matter he'll be fine once Clint sends him to rehab." Abby cut her off and gladly took her dress and the card back from the Attendant. She led Amelia out of the store. "Do you want Starbucks? I really want a caramel macchiato right now." She smiled at the younger girl as they both slid into the car. Amelia frowned, staring at the dress hanging the hook in the backseat. "What's wrong?"
"What size are you?" Amelia asked, not even looking at the other.
"Four. Why?" Abby watched her sideways. They turned onto the main road. Abby almost laughed when she put the pieces together. "You've got to be kidding me, right?" She slammed Amelia's arm. "You are not trying to lose weight! You're like an eight, a healthy eight! And fifty percent of you is boob! I'm only four because it's a diabetes four, come on, Amy...don't do that."
"Oh, please.." Amelia scoffed. "I know I'm not fat, Abby. Look at Claire, she weighs probably more than Mark and she's beautiful. I just want to lose a size because I want to lose a size."
"I'm calling bull, Barton." Abigail shook her head. "You're trying to get with those cliquey girls who wear ugly Christmas sweaters on specific days in December and go to the mall together and have like, dress codes."
Amelia huffed, crossing her arms. "What if I want that?"
"What's wrong with Emma and Kyle and that Kate girl?" Abby shrugged and tapped her nails on the steering wheel. They pulled into Starbucks. "They're cool."
"It's not like I'm ditching them!"
"Whatever." Abby sighed, digging her purse from underneath her seat. "I'm getting a Caramel Macchiato, do you want anything?"
Amelia sighed, paused just to spite the older girl, and muttered quietly. "Can you get me a café mocha?"
Abigail smirked and climbed out of the car. "Of course I will."
"Julian!" Amelia called after the dark haired boy after their class ended. He halted and spun on his heel to face her, duffle over shoulder.
"Yeah?" He asked, a slightly bored but trying to be polite expression on his face. "Did I do something?"
"No, no." Amelia assured him, adjusting her own backpack on her shoulder and taking out her bun. "I was just, wanting to ask you a question."
"What?"
"Do you know Abby Stark?" She smiled and asked quickly. "She drives me home, blonde, goes to Sebastian's, daughter of Tony Stark?" She shrugged like it was no big deal.
Julian raised a brow. "Yeah, I heard of her, why?"
"Well she kind of likes you.."
"She's never met me..."
"She kind of likes you in the sense of her watching the class and seeing you a few times...And you're my partner, so if she watching me she's watching you and...yeah." Amelia shrugged again. "Can you take her to prom?"
"What?" Julian scoffed "Why?"
Amelia groaned. "Look, it's five hours of one night of your life with a pretty girl who really wants to meet you. Take her to dinner like a normal person, dance with her under the stars or whatever, and then you can go home." She sighed. "Please?"
Julian sighed. "I guess..." Amelia clapped. "It's just one time. And I'm not sleeping with her."
"And that's how I know you're one of the decent ones." Amelia smiled.
~Two Weeks Later~
Phil slid down the side of the brick building slowly, hands wrapped in his hair as sat in the wet late-April puddles. It was still cold, but he barely noticed with how much his head was pounding. The water soaked through his jeans but he paid no notice, too caught up in what he got himself mixed up in.
Dubious consent, they called it. Wasn't rape, but wasn't willing either. Not that he'd say something, it's his own damn fault. Just had to take the bag, didn't he? Full of cash he could've just dropped right off at Marvi's feet, avoided this whole thing. Pathetic, sleeping around for a desperate chance of forgiveness and not have the dealer send the sharks on him. Or even Amelia. God, that would really be an excuse for Phil to actually kill em if Marvi even approached her. But he didn't even stand a chance against these guys. Marvi, he could take down in ten minutes if he was willing, but the guy always had protection on him. Utterly and completely screwed for two more weeks.
He had himself tested twice, feeling more sick when it came back clean rather than not. He was hoping that would let him off the chain, Marvi tell him to get out rather than lose customers. It was sick how organized the whole thing was. Girls as young as Amelia and old old enough to be his mother. Other guys too, all older than him. Marvi says his youth makes him more attractive, expensive.
Phillip's stomach rolled the more he thought about it, shifting to have hands stick out from his knees, head tucked in between them. The first time wasn't his first time at least. No, that was even more idiotic. Exchange student from West Chester, captain of the hockey team, I won't tell if you don't tell one night stands between mutuals. Stupid, cliché, he was gullible.
Phil only looked up when he someone forced his hand to grip at the unmistakable feeling of money, a young woman with a toddler standing a good amount of feet away from them. She was nicely dressed, wealthy, and expensive handbag with matching heels and an even more expensive rock on her finger. She didn't say anything, just watched him the bluest eyes he's ever seen and tapped his fingers twice, leaving Phil with the grip on her money as she took her son's hand and started out of the alley.
Phillip was either too in shock or too embarrassed to say anything until she already rounded the corner, gone. He sighed, flicking the fifty in his hand before eventually shoving in his pocket. The redhead swallowed thickly and leaned his head against the brick behind him, every intention of just falling asleep. Maybe he'll get lucky and someone'll mug him so he has an excuse to look like crap.
It was just when he heard the scream that Phil instinctively shot to his feet. It was hers, she didn't have to say anything but that was a young mother's scream. He bolted to the sound. The lady, back up against the wall, an older man pointing a cheap gun at her sideways, she had the toddler behind her legs.
His fist slammed in the gunman's face before he even had the chance to think about it. Kicked the gun away and bolted with the same absentmindedness.
"Wait!" He heard the woman shout again. Phillip stopped only for a moment to look at her, now holding her son close to her chest, almost shaking. They stared at each other for a long while, Phillip's hands fists at his sides and shaking, not nearly as much as woman but shaking all the same. "Thank you." She whispered quietly to him.
He sprinted.
Ow.
That was new, no dreams but Phillip woke up with heart pounding, sweaty. His head pounded but his rest of him felt numb, like...static. But it fucking hurt everywhere.
It took him a good minute to realize this was because some guy was on top of him, pounding into him like there was no tomorrow.
"No!" He shouted at him weakly, more like a beg, and tried to scramble away. Desperately clawing at the sheets of not the shitty motel room he's usual in. No shitty motel sheets or creaky mattress, they were even in a motel at all. Shitty room with closed curtains, high windows like a basement.
The man on top of him didn't say anything, grinned widely and laughed at his terrified stature, and only caught Phillip by the hips. Dragging him back and pined him down, continuing on with his business until he was finished. Whatever the guy drugged him with was strong, Phillip could barely move anything of his own, let alone push away a guy that was twice his size. He felt the ache and heard the grunts but was hopeless to do anything about it as he laid there, panting and sprawled out for the world to see.
The man pounded into him, it felt like his middle was torn into two from the abuse, the rapist clawing at his skin hard enough to make him bleed. Phillip gagged and couldn't help the first sob from escaping, many more tears and hiccups coming after. The man over him slapped him hard in the face. "Stop crying! You're ruining it!" He screamed, wrapping a hand around his throat when he didn't. "Stop! Stop crying!"
Phillip squeezed his eyes shit and panted, but couldn't stop crying. "Please stop.." He shook his head, tone far from strong. "Please, please. I didn't do anything to you...please stop." He begged. Another slap to the face.
The man growled at him and forced his way out of Phillip. "You just had to wake up!" He screamed at the sobbing teenager. "You ruin it!" He knelt above the kid's face, slapping against his cheek. Phil weakly pushed him away. "You wanna fight? Fine!" He yelled again, moving off the bed. He came back to tie Phillip's hands behind his back, drug not helping him except to wriggle inches away.
He moved away from the other after he felt him finish, shaking so strongly he barely even noticed how he fell completely off the bed, hard on to the concrete. The man didn't care, just laughed boomingly amused at Phil's horror.
"What can I say?" He shrugged casually and cleaned himself up, grinning widely at the redhead on the floor, a mess in himself, and snapped a picture with his phone. "I just couldn't get enough of you." He smiled gently, like it was an act of compassion, and promptly trekked up the stairs and locked and clicked the door locked.
Phil was left alone.
It felt like days. He still couldn't figure it out.
He was at...'work', no one had come in yet. He didn't drink anything, and yet he was drugged enough for someone to haul him to their house and have him not wake up until the guy was almost finished with him.
Phil was honestly surprised he hadn't just broken down sobbing yet again. For as much as he hurt and for as much as he was shaking and fucking terrified. He hadn't broken down.
The door was obviously locked, windows were sealed. It was scary how nice this guy's yard was. Perfectly green, for early May, other houses all around without a clue what was happening. He was surprised he had free range of the small cellar, fucker was stupid enough to tie him with zip ties. Easy to snap once he got his hands in front of him.
He found his clothes in a closet within ten minutes. No phone, no wallet. It still felt like hours of being alone when it was probably only one. Everything hurt more vibrantly as the drug wore off. But his mind got clearer.
It didn't take him more than fifteen minutes to break of part of the bed post and send it hurling through the window. Didn't take more than five seconds for the guy to come raging down the stairs as Phillip desperately crawled out the broken glass. It cut into his stomach but he did not waste time whining before he was sprinting across lawns. He heard the man cuss at him before he turned to try upstairs, another advantage of being 120 pounds and five foot six is that you can usually get out of tight places.
His limbs ached and his shirt was soaked with his blood and his lungs panted to keep up with him, he stuck to lawns of people, places where roads did not go and cars couldn't either without him giving himself away. It was the suburbs, miles away from the city. If they were even in fucking New York State anymore. Who knows how long he's been out. It felt like hours before he felt like there was no way for him to come after him and he slowed to a walk. Completely lost, but he was away from him.
It dawned on him that he could've died in that basement.
Phillip literally could have been raped until death. Maybe not to death, he wasn't sure whether that was a real thing or not. But the guy could have easily kept him, starved him or even drugged him so he couldn't even try to get out. He was lucky, in a fucked up way, that the guy was too stupid to realize these things.
But they would have never known what had happened to him.
Everyone, really. It be just like Mark except they'd never know what was happening. No anonymous phone call from someone who had a conscience. No rescue, the guy might've just buried him. Then everyone at home would just have to get over the fact that he was stupid enough to let himself disappear and never be found.
But maybe that'd be better than them knowing what was happening, finding him in a lake and then beating themselves up over something they had nothing to do with.
He let himself take a breath when he found a road.
He's not dying, he's not disappearing. Phil will find somewhere and beg people for phones until someone gives it to him. He'll suck it up and call someone, Abby probably. For being a part time bitch she knew what to say to people when they needed it. Don't want to deal with anyone else right now. Then he'll take whatever comes next. He did not focus on what happened, he did not concern himself with his much his ass ached and how he smelled and how eventually he'll shatter and someone will be there to watch it all happen.
Phillip was more concerned on taking the next step forward, no matter how hard he's knees shook.
Huh, Buffalo.
That's where he ended up, houses started scattering around and he started reading license plates. Definitely not the next city over but it wasn't fucking LA or something, at least. Bad news was it was already getting dark, maybe seven. Lights were on in the house in front of him. Not a fancy house, but not poor. A big sign that said 'Rice's' was on the mailbox. Maybe a no questions asked guy who couldn't care less would answer the door?
He was wrong.
A large, dark skinned woman, stringy hair with tomato sauce and seasonings all over her stood at the door, keeping it half closed. Phil could see a few kids in the background kitchen, mostly teenagers or older. He swallowed thickly.
"Can I use a phone?" The redhead asked hoarsely. That and the fact that he was still bleeding slowly and looked like shit didn't seem like it would help his cause.
The woman frowned. "Why?" She asked loudly. "Don't you have one?"
Phil flinched. "Someone took mine." He told her calmly, looking away from her eyes. "I just need to call home. You don't have to do anything."
She bit her lip, tapping her short nails on the door. "Fine." She said sharply and opened the door all the way. "Don't you think about touching anything!"
"I won't." Phillip assured her and took the corded phone she handed him, outside of the kitchen. "Thank you." He told her, trying to be sincere as he dialed the number.
"Abby? Is anyone else there?...I know, I'm okay." Lie number 1. "I'm sorry...Buffalo...I can tell you when you're here...No. Please don't bring anyone...because...please? I really didn't mean for any of this...I know...Thanks."
He gently put the receiver down and looked back up at the woman. Who didn't leave, watching the whole conversation with her arms crossed. "Who have someone coming for you?" Phillip nodded. "Good." She swished he head and led them back outside. "Wait on the porch."
It took Abby a record time to pull up to the house. Phil walked slowly to the opened passenger door, sat in silently. "Thanks." He mumbled.
Abby scoffed, but started the car to go to the airport. Six hour drive her ass when she could hop onto a plane. "No one knew where you were." She said quietly. "Next thing you know I get a call from you in Buffalo and you look like crap and-" She stopped herself when Phillip broke into gross sobs, hunched over the dashboard in front of him.
"I'm sorry.." He choked out, Abby pulled the car over. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."
"Just shut up, Phillip." She sighed and wrapped her arms around the boy. "I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you." Well, not completely mad at em. "I was scared, you know?" She squeezed him lightly but he didn't stop. "Something could have happened, and we didn't know where you were."
"Abby," Phil pushed her away, sitting up. He was still trembling, blubbering like a toddler as he tried to form sentences. "Something did happen."
"Oh, my God." She frowned and nearly gasped when the thought came to her. "It's going to be okay, Phil." She assured him gently and wrapped him in another embrace. "You're going to fine. We're going home, you're safe. I promise everything's fine." She whispered.
Phil eventually sank to the seat of the rental car, Abigail being forced to listen to ugly hiccuping sobs as they rode back to the airport. She kept a hand on his shoulder and took the long way, when it was clear that this wasn't stopping, she kept riding until they reached a gas station after circling the airport many times. It was almost eleven at night by this time.
They sat in silence for a long while. A teenager sitting at the cash register watched their rental car expectantly through the glass. Phil had himself curled away from Abby as much as he could, hiding his head in his arms.
"C'mere." She asked him gently, pulling the redhead up to lean against her. "You're okay, Phil. We'll get gas, I'll get you clean, cheap, gas station clothes and then we'll drive back to airport when you calm down, okay? Then we'll go home." She pulled away and really got too look at him. She gasped when she saw his shirt. "How long have you been bleeding?"
Phil looked down, like he hadn't noticed the stain. It burned horribly, but that hadn't been his concern in the past hour or so. "Since I crawled through the broken window." He tried to shrug casually, but his breath still came in hitches and sons broke out.
Abby nearly started crying again before stopped herself. "It's okay." She said, more to herself than anything. "Stay here." She lightly nudged his shoulder and slid out of the car. It took her less than ten minutes to get him pajama pants with 'Buffalo University' running down the leg with another matching hoodie. They weren't as cheap as she thought they would be, but they were big and comfortable. Plus she didn't even know if those were Phillip's clothes or the damn rapist's he managed to steal. He also handed him a roll of bandages. "I can get out and you can just change in here." She assured him, handing the clothes to him trough the window.
He opened the door a few minutes later, signaling her to come in. "Thanks." The redhead mumbled quietly and slouched back into the seat.
Abby slid back into the car and wrapped he arms around him again. "Stop. Okay? You're something, Phil. And you're gonna be fine." The blonde pulled away and started their car. "Are you ready to go home?"
Phillip sighed, and stayed silent for so long that Abby that thought he wouldn't answer. She didn't blame him, she probably wouldn't want to go back to prying voices and judging eyes either. Abby tries to get it, tries not to act bitchy like she is to everyone else. Even Amelia sees it.
After what seemed like forever, a quiet whisper.
"Yeah...I have to tell you the whole story, though."
Phillip found that telling her once they were on the plane wasn't as easy as he expected. "It wasn't random..I guess." He blurted out once they were comfortably seated in first class. His throat immediately went tight and he shook his head.
"What do you mean?" Abby shook her head. Squinting at him up and down. It was obvious he wasn't going talk about it, so she asked for a pen and a pad.
It took him nearly the whole flight, hands still shaky no matter how much food they offered him on the flight, his horrid handwriting somehow managed to get below third grade level, but he got it done. Everything. From the first time at the ring to Clint finding out to when he settled for betting, then just cards, and how he got into Marvi's deal with sleeping around until it was paid off. Fighting, it would have taken him over a year, sleeping, five months, at least.
She read it quietly, doing that thing where she rests her head on her fists so she doesn't say something that could be offensive. "Why didn't you just tell anyone?" She finally asked.
"It's not your problem."
Phil wished the chair would just eat him into the abyss when Clint found out.
Clint stayed quiet for a long time, not knowing what to say. Hands braced on the table, pure anger at someone just boiled in his stomach.
He didn't realize what was coming out of his mouth before it was took the to late it back. "You should've known not to get yourself into this in the first place." The archer weakly whispered it, but he knew both his kids heard it. He hated himself before anyone even got the chance to tell him off.
Amelia decided it was her job.
"You've got to be fucking kidding right now!" She shouted, standing up from where she was sitting. "You've got to be kidding! You're blaming him for this? I can't believe you! This is ridiculous, you're ridiculous..."
Clint gritted his teeth. "Amelia I-"
"Am ignorant!" She finished it for him. "You spent so much time with worrying your ass off about me for no reason that you completely ignore your own son! You're ignorant. You never spare a glance at him until he does something you don't like! Have you ever thought of 'oh, maybe if I actually raised him and taught him how to vent that doesn't involve beating people up or risking his life, things like this wouldn't happen!' But no! You decided that the five foot anger ridden teenager was fine on his own and now all you do is work and hover over me! And now instead of helping him like you're fucking supposed to do, you're literally telling him what he did wrong."
Phil sank deeper into the armchair and kept his eyes on the floor. Clint kept his jaw tightly clenched, the redhead could hear his father trying to stay calm.
Clint didn't even know who he was angry at anymore. The absolute douchebag, for lack of a better word, who took his son. Himself for saying something as stupid as that so Phil would think it was actually his fault. Or Amelia for being right and pointing it out. The archer released the breath he didn't know he was holding and spoke quietly. "I think we all need to go to bed."
Darcy found Phil dead asleep on their couch the next morning.
Well, three in the morning. Nothing like waking up to blinding pain in your back. She sighed at the sprawled out teenager on her couch and went to the closet, throwing a blanket over him nonchalantly before taking the pain medications some doctor recommends somewhere and going back to sleep.
"Where are you going?" Amelia asked the archer quietly, him having a duffle over his shoulder and hand on the door. The venom in her tone was obvious.
"Amelia..."
"Don't think I don't know. You'll be gone for a day of two the come back and not tell anyone where you went." She huffed and crossed her arms. "Just venting, but nothing else will come out if you."
"You don't know," Clint sighed. "I have to do this."
"You have to murder someone because you're mad at them?" Amelia leaned forward in the chair.
"I have to murder a worthless piece of shit and give him everything he deserves!"
"Everything you think he deserves!" Amelia stood. "Since when do you get to decide that?"
Clint gritted his teeth and stepped back from her, the smaller blonde only inches away from him. "Amelia," He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You two, are everything...And I can't.." He leaned against the door. "I can't let people think it is okay to do this shit to you. Believe me, a lot of people want to."
She stayed silent for a long time, crossed her arms again. "You shouldn't do it now. It's not like the guy's gonna go anywhere."
Clint made a show of putting down his duffle bag. He stared at his daughter. "We're you mad at me?" He asked quietly. "For killing him?"
"No." Amelia shrugged, but kept her eyes on the floor. "Not really." She waited for a minute, Clint didn't speak again. "Did you name me after Amelia Pond or what?" She sighed, looking back him exasperatedly. Change the subject before anything worse happens. "Please tell me I'm not part of that 'thing'."
Clint actually cracked a smile that turned into a laugh. "Shit, you're on to me." He teased.
"Dad!" She whined.
"That's the question, isn't it?" Clint pondered. "The first question, the oldest question in the universe..."
"Oh, no..."
Clint was suddenly on her shoulders and whispering fiercely into her ear. "Silence will fall when the question is asked."
~Three Days Later~
"I wanna take him on a date." David announced as soon as Markus shut his locker and turned to find the boy standing two feet in front of him.
"What?" Mark raised a brow.
"I want to take Phillip on a date." David repeated slowly.
Mark frowned. "Why?"
"Exactly the question I have been asking myself for weeks." He gave him a half-smirk. "But you know him better, I was thinking...?" He sighed. "I have no idea where to take him."
Mark sighed and wiped a hand down his face. "I don't know, I've never taken him on date."
"You take my sister out! She seems to think you're good at it."
"Well, I guess?" Mark shrugged and backed further against the locker. "But, you know...Phil's in kind of...rough, situation." He told him, bits and pieces awkwarder than others.
"Claire told me." David bit his lip. "I know, and I know I probably have no right to say I know what to do, but..." He sighed. "I don't want him to be alone while you guys are at prom. You know he won't come with you."
Mark sighed, knowing it was true. "The guy's here will tear him apart." There were rumors, sent through the Internet in a matter of hours after Phil got away from him. Phil couldn't see them, no one could, really. Except for the ones who'd use it against him. Mark checked the redhead's Facebook, nearly all nasty things and he hasn't even been in school. SHIELD had all the pictures wiped clean from everywhere before more than a few people saw them for them, but the comments would keep showing up.
Things like that that made Abby pitch a fit and end up in detention for clawing some other girl.
Some defended him, obviously. Not everyone was as big of a jerk as Phil made them out to be. Attempts at calling out assholes and some even got charged with harassment over cyber bullying. Small little mercies that would be forgotten about in a few days. Phil still wasn't going to school.
David sighed, bringing the taller boy back to Earth. "I just don't want him to think that this is a reason he should hide from everyone. I don't want him to be alone, you know?"
Mark bit his lip. "Phil's been used by a lot of people, David." He said quietly, hallways nearly empty by now. "Not just that guy, but a lot of other people. He gets attached. So just...just don't take advantage of him." He pleaded.
David nodded furiously. "That's the last thing I want to do." He assured Markus quietly. "And the same goes for my sister."
"I'm stupid." Amelia huffed, laying down dramatically on Clint's armchair.
Clint blinked from the other couch, shutting his laptop on his lap. "I check your ProgressBook, you're not stupid."
Amelia groaned. "I'm talking about that..." She sighed. "Remember those cliquey girls I wanted to be apart of?" She asked dreadfully.
"That finally backfire on you?" Clint didn't smirk, though he felt like it.
"There just bitches." Amelia rolled her eyes. "They say they can't be seen with someone who lives in close proximity with someone of Phil's nature. Everyone thinks you took him out of school because he has AIDS."
"What?" Clint blinked, leaning forward.
"People saw the pictures, Dad. Even if there gone people still remember it and are putting it on me." She covered her face. "I'm so selfish."
"Hey," Clint snapped. "It's not selfish, you don't deserve it, Phillip doesn't deserve it. It's stupid. I know, I hate it to." He sighed. "I know you've wanted to transfer for a longtime, Amy. It's just...I don't like you being away from everyone else."
"Everyone else is going to graduate anyway!" She whined. "I don't like it there, Dad."
The archer stayed silent for a long time, resting his chin on the tips of his fingers before sighing. "If you, can find a school..." He stopped Amelia before she got excited. "that's not public school, and you can get in. Then I will enroll you in wherever you want next year."
Amelia gasped and sat up. "You're kidding right?" She smiled. Clint shook his head. She smiled wider. "You're amazing. And I already have one that I wanted to go to."
Clint snorted. "I had a feeling you did."
"Me and Kate Bishop wanted to go in eighth grade, but you said no, and her mom said no. So we kind of made a pact to try next year. With or without each other." She shrugged. "It's Dalton, for their creative writing, mostly. Not exactly public, but not exactly private. It's super hard to get in to but I already saw the test from Kyle last year, so I'm gonna do okay."
"Did you steal a test?" Clint raised a brow.
"What? No. I might have maybe asked Tony to steal for me but I definitely did not do that because it would be wrong."
Clint rolled his eyes.
"And it was last years version anyway."
~Two Days Later~
"Phil?" Clint softly knocked on the teenager's door, paper clutched tightly in his hand. A soft mumble of permission and he strolled through the door. He couldn't help but grin and the redhead, wrapped up in a comforter on the rickety old couch watching playoffs. Knicks have a chance, 78-60 in third quarter. "Good, happy times." Clint nodded and crossed his arms.
"We're so going to finals." Phillip mumbled, half asleep but the smirk not faded.
"Don't doubt it, this is our year, man." Clint assured him, chuckling softly. He flicked the paper to be upright and facing Phillip behind him. "Got your ACT scores."
The teenager groaned and buried himself into the couch. "I thought I was taking mental health days, why would bring this up?" He grumbled.
Clint smirked. "Just look at them." The tossed the paper haphazardly to the other. He sat up and made a show of frowning.
"Bleh, Bleh.." He skimmed over the words of other names. Phil stopped and nearly threw the paper away like it was lying. "I got a twenty-five?" He asked quietly, quickly turning into a yell. "I got a twenty-five?"
Clint's simple smirk quickly dissolved into a full on smile. "Twenty-five, Phil." He laughed a bit and went to sit on the arm of the couch. "I'm so proud of you..." He beamed, suddenly moving to wrap his son up in his arms. "I'm so proud of you."
"I think I'm gonna pass out." Phillip pushed away from him. "I mean, not really, that was an exaggeration." He rolled his hand and pressed the other against his forehead. The blanket across his shoulders fell. Clint laughed.
"If you pass out, I wouldn't blame you." The archer moved to sit on the arm of the couch. "Call the hospital, yeah, because it's you. But I would not be surprised." He nudged his hip lightly.
Clint was half way out the door before whispering as if someone else could hear them. "I stocked your mirror with Zoloft."
~Saturday Morning, Prom Day~
"I need to kind of sort of ask you to buy me something." Amelia forced out the sentence as quickly and strung-together as she could to Tony. It was against nearly every essence of Clint's teaching that she asks someone to buy her something, but c'mon Tony's loaded and he begs to spoil them. Amelia smiled innocently.
Tony blink, then grinned. "Sure, what?" He held out his arm and walked around the bar to the fridge. "You know I don't really give a crap, to be honest. As long as its not...illegal. Or strippers." Tony gave her a pointed look, as if she of all people would be interested in strippers.
Amelia smiled wider. "You foiled my night!"
Tony hummed and took a bite of the strawberry he picked from the refrigerator. "Here," He said, flipping open his wallet and handing her a card. "Like I said, nothing illegal."
The blonde's eyes widened as she was suddenly looking at the sleek, black, JPMorgan Credit card. "You're letting me use to Palladium?" She blinked.
The genius laughed quietly. "Yeah, I can trust you not to do anything stupid." He shrugged. "What are you asking me for."
"Well..." Amelia laughed pathetically and spat out her story quickly. "I've kind if been ditching my friends a lot lately for this group of real bitchy girls because I was stupid enough to think that was the right thing to do, so now they've dumped me and I come crawling back to Kate, Emma and Kyle begging for them forgiveness. So I promised them a night out?" She smiled, Tony mimicked her.
"Just promise me." The billionaire put a hand on her shoulder. "To act like money is not an object. Don't be rude, but, have fun for a night." He smirked.
Amelia nearly squealed as she hugged him. "Thank you."
Just as Julian had promised, he showed up at four thirty in the afternoon, dressed nicely in a suit and ready to take Abby to a nice night out. She looked as dazzling as the first time in her dress, Julian having a nice pink tie to match. They went to Players, talked most of the night, not too many awkward silences. Abby did not once mention his hands as she had one of her close by to his all night.
Amelia had done what she had promised. A fun night with Kate, Em, and Kyle. Which may or may not included getting massages, getting an all you can eat buffet bar at Pizza Hut, sneaking into a little league baseball field, and playing baseball with only tennis rackets and golf balls.
Markus nearly gasped when he saw Claire at four-twenty sharp. The min green dress with a black laced design on top, along with fingerless lace gloves fitted her perfectly, the normally electric-blue dyed tips of her hair being the same green as her dress. Mark's tie in the same fashion. Mrs. Matthews, Bruce and Darcy insisted on bombarding them with pictures and Mr. Matthews didn't speak a word the whole night.
Phillip stayed home, Clint lingering awkwardly until the redhead told him to find something to do. He debated answering the knock on his door before eventually sliding off the couch to answer it. David Matthews was found holding a carton of raw cookie dough and Tom Hank's Forrest Gump. They spent the two and half hour long movie inching painfully slow nearer to each other. Clint found Tom Hank's waving to his son on the bus, and his own son wrapped up with someone else's.
Peter initially went alone, not wanting to stay home but really having nothing to do anyways. Harry had someone to take, Peter didn't know her. He stood awkwardly, though not resisting when Gwen Stacy oh-so-conveniently had bumped into him during a particularly slower song.
Emotionally exhausting? Anyone? No? Just me? Okay.
But..yeah. That was the thing that took me like five months and to finish it up in three hours this afternoon. It also encouraged me to think about which characters remind me of the ones in Frozen because that has taken up about two months of me life...
Buuut? What did you thiiink? I'd love to hear opinions! Review!
