-Chapter Thirty-


"You stalking me, Parker?"

Peter blanched, hunching over in his seat when Gwen's voice rang in his left ear in a desperate attempt to hide from her in plain sight. Slipping a bit on the ground, he tried to appear as small as humanly possible, turtling in on himself. Perhaps sensing his sudden panic, she laughed and bent down further. He didn't want to stare too openly, but he found himself unable to stop his eyes from scanning her face up and down, once, twice, and now she had noticed him staring. Wishing he could sink all the way into the floor, he tried to come up with a valid reason for being there that wouldn't sound, at best, ludicrous, and, at worst, like an outright lie. "Um, no."

She hummed and continued to watch him, lips pursed slightly.

She was thinking, about what he wasn't certain, and that never boded well for him in the long run. "You followed me," Gwen concluded.

"Everything else was full."

"You have to petition to get into this orientation."

Peter tried to remain unaffected, aloof even, but found himself coming up woefully short. The early enrollment summer session had only just started and it was still painfully hot outside, reducing everyone to their least amount of clothing possible to keep cool in the unairconditioned buildings. Today she was wearing her favorite dress, which also happened to be one of his favorites, and had her hair pulled back from her neck. Normally as pale as the moon, she looked like she had managed to get some sun and she was practically glowing. Perhaps it had been a step too far and perhaps he should not have used Mr. Stark's computer to hack into the class records, but he couldn't feel bad when he looked at her. At the very least, he couldn't feel bad for long.

"It was random." Gwen tilted her head to the side, angle ever so slightly mocking, as she waited for him to say something different. "A happy coincidence, a joyf…"

"Stop talking." Peter snapped his mouth shut. "I know you broke into Oscorp on July 4th."

He had half a mind to lie, to tell her that he would do no such thing, but when she tilted her head again and narrowed her eyes, he knew he was well and truly trapped.

"About that…"

"I don't care what your excuse is, Peter. I just want to know what you found."

"So you aren't mad?"

"Mad that you, a self-proclaimed 'Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man', have now turned to felonies, or mad that you used the information I gave you and then didn't include me in the investigation?"

"Both."

"Smart answer." She leaned in closer, scooching ever slightly in her chair and causing it to tip forward. "What did you find?" There was an insatiable curiosity in her voice that both excited him and terrified him. He was meant to be keeping her safe, secure, and away from this kind of nonsense.

It was the one promise he seemed doomed to break, despite his best efforts.

"We got a possible name."

Gwen leaned over so much she practically tipped over in her chair.

"And."

"And maybe a location that the samples went, but nothing concrete."

"Have you gone to check it out?"

Peter wanted so desperately to move the conversation in a different direction, any direction, but she was freely talking to him in the first time in over two months, and he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Avery met a guy who thinks he might know a place that the samples could have gone, but…"

"But it's unlikely you could ever find them."

"It's been months." Something flashed in her eyes, something akin to disappointment, and he hated to be the one to put it there. "I'm sorry, Gwen. We're still going to check it out, though. Avery and this guy are watching it right now. I think. They could instead be doing some sort of mating ritual that involves beating the shit out of each other for all I know. Honestly, it's starting to get a little un…"

"Peter."

"Hmmm?"

"What about the name?"

Peter had hoped that she would bypass that part, but she was too smart for that. "Oh, uh…"

"You haven't done anything with it!" She exclaimed, drawing the attention of the few other students who had begun to trickle in. "What was the point of me telling you if you weren't going to do anything about it?"

"I'm not not doing anything about it. We just haven't been able to get anything solid."

"Are you even trying?"

"Yes." In the sense that yes meant that he was doing just enough to keep Gwen from involving herself more than she already was. But not yes in the sense that he ever intended on actually doing more than that. He was certain those samples were long gone and no amount of time spent with Avery on rooftops was going to fix that.

"Liar." He was. The rottenest and he knew that she knew that. "We're going today."

"What? No!" He waved awkwardly at the nearest student who turned to them, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. "Do you remember why we broke up?"

"Because you're incapable of letting me make my own decisions regarding my safety?"

"No, because…"

"You made promises to my father that weren't yours to make?"

"No, Gwen, I only…"

"Meant to continue to treat me like a supporting character in your story, rather than acknowledging that I have my own interests, ideas, goals, and needs?"

Peter was struck dumb. That was her intention, he thought, and he was left with no other choice but to admire her ability to short circuit just about everything in him. "We'll go after orientation."

She did not smile at him. She simply looked at him for a moment longer, an inkling of hope springing up in his chest as she did, before she pulled out her laptop and took the seat next to him, the small desks pressing them closer until he could practically feel the heat rolling off her skin. More sweat sprang up on the back of neck, but he was certain it wasn't from the heat in the room this time around.


Avery leaned back in her lawn chair and looked up at the blistering sun. It was the third day of what was supposed to be her stakeout and all she had to show for it was another set of tan lines and a pile of empty popsicle wrappers rapidly rising at her feet. She met Matt on the same rooftop he showed her a few days before, at the end of their supposed date, emphasis on supposed, dressed in a crumpled suit and looking absolutely exhausted. She wasn't surprised when he decided to join her and after an uncomfortable hour had passed, she found herself relaxing in his company where she hadn't been able to before. He collapsed back in his seat, legs propped up on the portable cooler, a quickly melting popsicle in his hand, head tilted towards the warehouse as he listened. Lifting the thick sheet of hair of her neck, Avery shifted in place and looked back at the warehouse.

It looked different in the light of day, normal almost and distinctly non-criminal, if the amount of people going in and out was anything to go on, and Avery couldn't help but think the whole heroing business should be done before the sun set. It would reduce the instances of eye strain, at the very least, and the reputations of night skulking would be, for once, unfounded. If she could, she would move closer. Instead, she contented herself for the time being with watching from afar and enjoying yet another popsicle as the sun slipped lower and lower in the sky, her mouth stained a cherry red and her mind wandering.

"Long day?" Avery asked, finally breaking the long silence. Matt tilted his head to the side, the muscles in his jaw working furiously for a moment before he sighed and dropped his head to his chest.

"You have no idea." Pulling his jacket off, he threw it over the back of his chair and rolled his shirt sleeves up.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly." Matt swiped the back of his hand across his face, grimacing. "Hand me another popsicle."

"Flavor?"

"Surprise me."

"Only if you promise to not bite it."

Matt held out his hand, leaning towards her ever so slightly with a smirk. "Now what kind of psychopath would bite a popsicle?"

"Now where have I heard that before?"

"No idea."

"So, did you bring another suit besides the fancy kind?" Avery asked, glancing down at her own bag. She had hastily stuffed her suit in that morning, still unsure if she would need it or not. Peter was supposed to be here by now, or at the very least, sometime soon.

"I did," Matt said, crumbling up the empty wrapped and tucking it in his pocket. "You know, you really shouldn't litter."

"I have several plans to reduce, reuse, and recycle later."

"The planet doesn't appreciate your sarcasm."

"But you do," Avery said, shifting around in her seat once again. "You would think something would have happened by now. Or, that a cloud would have decided to, at some point, venture anywhere near New York state."

"You're the one who insisted on doing this day in and day out," Matt pointed out, clearly more affected by the oppressive heat than she was. Sweat bloomed in his armpits and along the front of his chest. The errant thought occurred to her that he might be cooler if he took off more layers, a wild blush adding to the heat flush on her face. "What?"

"What?"

"Your heartbeat just increased." Matt smirked, as if he knew exactly what she had just thought.

"It's just indigestion. Don't flatter yourself."

Matt made a noise at the back of his throat and peered over at her, smirking in a knowing way that made the blush even worse. Avery cleared her throat and looked away, busying herself with shuffling through her things instead of trying to fumble her way through a response. She would only end up embarrassing herself further and, even if she hadn't yet decided if she actually liked the man sitting next to her as more than a useful acquaintance, she still had no desire to trip over her own words in front of him.

"So, what's in the other bag?"

"You noticed that?"

"You're moving it around a lot as a way of avoiding admitting own confusing, yet exciting, feelings towards me."

"Matt."

"Alright, alright. But seriously, what's in the bag."

Avery hefted it into her lap. "It's a bouquet of wrenches. I was kind of an ass to Tony a few days ago, and while I don't think I was necessarily wrong, I feel bad and I think I made him feel bad, which feels worse, so I want to apologize to him."

"And you thought wrenches was the trick?"

"What do you get a man who has everything?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm up to my eyeballs in student loan debt and currently in the process of selling my soul to the highest biding law firm who will have me," Matt said, sitting up in place and starting on the top set of buttons of his shirt. "Is your sidekick showing up?"

"I think I might be his sidekick, actually, which says more about my self-esteem that I care to admit," Avery stood up and walked over to the edge of the building, careful to stop well before she toppled over the side. It was almost dark now and, even with the added lightly of the city, she didn't trust her own balance to not end this night in catastrophe before it had even really begun. She heard Matt shuffling around behind her for a moment before she heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants down.

"You have a change of clothes, right?" Matt asked, still shuffling around behind her.

"Yeah," Avery said, keeping her gaze stubbornly forward until she was certain he was fully changed. Daring a glance over her shoulder, she finally turned around when she caught sight of him in all black. Despite the fact that there was no one on the roof but them, he had already tied his black mask over his eyes, leaving only is chin and neck exposed. "I'll call him while I change."

She settled her phone against her ear and shoulder as she pulled all the pieces of her uniform out of her bag. It smelled of the febreeze she had hastily spritzed it with, unable to stomach the idea of smelling like sweat in front of a man who had a nose like a bloodhound. She slipped on the pants and hopped around, yanking them up until they sit on her hips in a way that felt secure. She was smart enough to wear the right underwear this time around, giving her a smooth line that no one but herself would be able to appreciate. The top came next, followed by the boots that felt thoroughly stupid in the light of day, but oddly appropriate for the night, and finally the heads-up display nestled on top of her head and out of the way of her top-knotted hair.

After three no answers, Avery gave up.

"We could always wait and go another night?" She said, gauging his reaction.

Matt weighed that proposition, jaw muscle working furiously for a moment before he shook his head and sighed. "No, probably not. It'll be fine. We can handle it. We'll go in once it gets dark. Most of the workers are leaving now, so we'll wait a half an hour and then go."

"You're sure?"

"It's just recon, Avery. What could possibly go wrong?"


Steve Rogers was having, for what he thought might be the first time ever, a real genuine, knock-you-on-your-ass panic attack.

Hovering just outside the D.C. townhome, he squeezed his hands into fists and tried to fight the urge to pace back and forth just to relieve some of the tension he was feeling. He was absolutely certain her entire family could see him, if they chanced a peak out of the pale blue curtains, and he couldn't risk embarrassing himself before he had even met them. Sucking in another greedy gulp of air, he tried to stop the shaking in his hands and arms before he gave up and instead shoved them into his pockets.

"Steve?"

He froze, half turned around in place, half panicked, and fully unprepared to see Peggy Carter standing on her porch staring at him with the sort of expression designed by God to make him want to cry. His mouth dropped open in a gape, his brain faltered, and his heart felt like it stopped, but she didn't seem to notice. She walked down the steps, wrinkled hands gripping the artfully twisted metal bars to keep herself from falling, and hurried over to him.

"What on earth are you doing waiting out here?" She asked, stopping in front of him with a bright smile on her face.

"Peggy."

Over the phone, he had been able to imagine that she was still the same, that time, the universe, God, or whatever, had decided to spare her the pain of growing older. He could still see the brown hair, her bright eyes, and infectious smile. All the things he loved about her, cherished and dreamt about, flashed and spluttered, and for the briefest of moments, a horror that he wouldn't soon forget, disappeared and he no longer recognized the woman in front of him.

But then she smiled.

And he felt his heart shatter and melt into a thousand pieces.

Time had not been his friend. It had flung him forward and taken everything from him, twisted his nerves and given him a new level of anxiety that he was certain felt akin to a heart attack. It had taken his friends, his mental health, his comfort, and his plans for his future. It had not been his friend.

But it had certainly been a friend to Margaret Carter because she was just as beautiful as she had ever been.

"I almost didn't believe it was real when Tony called." At the mention of Stark, Steve was brought back down to earth, quickly and violently. He focused on her face, taking it in and committing it to memory, just in case time decided to be a malevolent bastard once again.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, almost stumbling over his words before he caught himself.

"Why are you apologizing?" She reached out a careful hand and touched his arm, fingers digging into the skin. "It's been such a long time."

He felt his heart shatter again.

What was he supposed to say to that?

What words could ever possibly be adequate?

He settled for taking her hand in his.

That he could manage without embarrassing himself from his own lack of coherent thoughts. She didn't need to know how much he had been thinking about this moment ever since he called her, how much he had imagined what he would want to say. In all his ruminations, however, it never occurred to him that their reunion might be watched by near a dozen inquisitive eyes.

When she had invited him over for a small dinner, he hadn't imagined the entire family would be there.

"Vultures. Ignore them," Peggy said, giving his hand a squeeze as she stepped back. "Would you like to come inside?"

Steve nodded, watching as a pair of kids pulled back from the window and disappeared back inside the house. Peggy scoffed, muttering something about nosiness, and walked up the stairs painfully slow. She grabbed the railing and stepped upwards, fumbling until Steve couldn't take it anymore and reached out his arms to help her up the rest of the way.

The front door to her home opened before they made it all the way up the stairs, and a man rushed out, speedy, despite the crutch he relied heavily on, and made room for them to step inside. "What did the doctor say about the stairs?"

"To avoid them unless absolutely necessary. I rather consider leaving the house necessary, wouldn't you think, love?"

Steve froze again, turning his attention onto the man more fully. "Sorry. She got a bit excited. We had planned for the rest of the family to be out of the way when you got here, but the curiosity got the best of them."

"It's…"

"It's wonderful to finally meet you," The man said, pausing in the small entry hallway. He held out his hand for Steve to take, a wonderfully pleasant smile on his face. "I'm Daniel Sousa, Peggy's husband."

Steve recovered after only a moment.

He knew.

Of course he knew. Even without being told, it would be silly for him to assume that she would have spent the last seventy years pining over a man that she was never even in a relationship with. Despite all of that, the confirmation hit him like a ton of bricks. But then the pain was quickly replaced by an unfamiliar feeling, one that reminded him almost of gratitude.

He took Daniel's hand and shook it. "Steve Rogers."

"Oh, I know. You saved my life."

"You'll embarrass him," Peggy said, shooing past them both to walk further into the house. "Steve, I'll get us some drinks and we can talk before I introduce you to everyone."

The moment Peggy was out of sight, Daniel turned back towards Steve, a serious look on his ace. "I don't know how much she's told you."

"About the diagnosis."

Daniel look down at the metal crutch, squeezing it closer into his side. The noise in the kitchen increased and Steve was treated to the sound of Peggy laughing loudly. It was a sound that he didn't get to hear too often, both of them lacking the occasion and the desire to do so, and the pain settled deep in his chest once again.

He shouldn't be here.

It was too soon.

Or maybe it was too late.

Time had taken this from him and it wasn't fair of him to try and claw it back. She had built a life, without him, perhaps even in spite of him, and he had no right to try and rectify it.

"I made it a little strong," Peggy said, reappearing in front of them with two very large drinks in her hands.

"Peg, your medication."

"They're not for me. Now, Steve, follow me." She glided away, just a slight hitch in her step, and disappeared into a door just to his left. Daniel sighed next to him and shook his head, an overtly fond smile on his face.

"Best not keep her waiting."

Steve had already done it for long enough.

She held the door open for him with her elbow, carefully balancing the two drinks in each hand. The smile was back and whatever brief moment of panic he had felt evaporated once again. He took the drinks from her, noticing that they smelled strongly of vodka and strawberries, and waited for her to tell him where to go.

Peggy pointed to a pair of cushy armchairs, completely ignoring his persistent nervousness. "Well, don't just stand there. Sit, sit."

She made herself comfortable on one of the chairs, gesturing for him to do the same. He practically fell into the seat, the drinks precariously balanced in his hands, until she took pity on him and took them back. She set them aside on a small table, forgetting them entirely in favor of focusing all her attention on him. His phone buzzed in his back pocket, startling him at first like it always did. He waited a moment to see if it would buzz again, as Bruce had told him he should. When it didn't, he pushed it deeper into his pocket and to the back of his mind.

Whatever it was could wait.

Her eyes danced across his features, sweeping over his hair first, before slipping down to his eyes, his jaw, his neck, everything and anything she could see, she took it in, before she finally settled back in her chair, satisfied with what she saw. "You haven't aged a day." A silence settled over them that Steve couldn't decide if it was comfortable or not. "You could lie and tell me the same."

Steve wanted to cry.

The desire didn't come up very often, but the occurrences had dramatically increased in the last few months. He thought, at first, that it was the stress of it all. But the more he felt it bubbling, and the more he forcefully pushed it down, the more he was starting to realize that perhaps there was something else going on.

"Peggy, I'm…"

"I know." There was an understanding that laced her words that caused Steve to relax back in his seat, finally feeling the knot in his chest loosening ever so slightly. "Let's speak of better things. None of this miserable nonsense, when this should be a happy day."

"I missed you so much, Peggy."

"It was only a few months for you," She reminded him, a look of mirth on her face despite the somber realization. "How are you adjusting?"

Better things had a different meaning to both of them, it seemed.

It took a moment for him to collect his thoughts, to center himself, and decide how best to answer the question without causing any sort of undue alarm. Truthfully, he wasn't sure he had the answer for himself. He had been trying to sparse his thoughts for months and still came up woefully short. He could try and fumble through his words in the vain hope that he would land somewhere near a coherent thought. He could try. He wanted to try, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out and the silence that stretched between them only seemed to get more uncomfortable the longer it lasted.

Finally, desperate to says something, he settled on the only thing he could. "Well enough."

She pursed her lips and stared at him, eyes narrowing as she searched his face. "You always were a terrible liar."

"I was never a skill I thought I needed with you."

"It wasn't. So why are you trying to spontaneously develop it now?"

"I'm…"

"Steve, tell me."

He shouldn't. He couldn't. It was a burden that didn't seem at all fair to lay on her after he had been gone so long, after he all but abandoned her. And yet, he couldn't stop himself. Peggy scooted closer so that she could place a comforting hand on his arm. The pressure felt nice for a moment, grounding him as he struggled to control his racing thoughts until they finally exploded in a mess of jumbled words and frustrated emotions.

"It's so much harder than I thought it would be. I thought that some things would be familiar, and they are, but mostly the world is so much bigger than it was in the 40s and I feel so much smaller. Everything is bigger, louder, and faster, and the moment I think I have a handle on things, they change. The people look at me like I'm some kind of sideshow, talking and acting and dressing like an old man in a young man's body. And, the more time that passes, the more I'm starting to agree with them."

"Is S.H.I.E.L.D. not helping you?"

"They are, but all they care about is making sure I'm physically able to perform in the field." Steve stopped for only a moment, taking a small breath before he continued, unable to stop himself now that he had started. "I thought that something might change after New York, but then everyone scattered to the wind, and apparently aliens are real and I might be friends with two of them, well definitely one of them, and the few things I was beginning to grasp I don't understand anymore than when I woke up a few months ago."

The silence stretched between them again and for a moment Steve was afraid he might have said too much, but then she smiled at him in the way that let him know she understood exactly what he was saying. "Oh, Steve."

"I'm having a really hard time Peggy, and one of the few times I've felt better was when I've talked to you."

Before she could respond his phone buzzed again, four rapid bursts in succession.

Reluctantly, like pulling teeth, he pried his phone of his pocket and glanced at the glass screen.

Avery.

At some point someone, probably Stark, had added a particularly unflattering picture of her to the contact in his phone. Whoever had taken the picture had caught her off guard, the angle one that even Steve, in his limited experience with self-taken pictures, knew was less than ideal. Her hair was piled up on top of his head and the sun shined directly on her face, lighting up her freckles and making her eyes practically glow. Behind her, he recognized the land just outside her mother's old house from when he dropped her off there two months before. She had taken the picture himself. Why she had picked that one was beyond him. Perhaps Peggy would understand.

He had it halfway flipped around, intending to ask her, when it buzzed again.

"Generally speaking, its rude to ignore someone trying to text you," Peggy said, leaning back in her chair. "A friend?"

He opened the first text, internally proud of himself for getting it on the first time.

Hi.

So. No problems yet. Just thought you should know just in case Fury pushes for a public flogging.

"Something important?"

Still no problems. Everything's fine. We're fine. How are you?

"No," Steve said, brows furrowed. "Yes. Maybe."

"One of your new friends?" There was genuine joy in her voice at the very idea.

Never mind. Slight problems.

Steve.

Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.

"She's a friend," Steve paused again, scrolling back up to look at the messages in order once more. She was dramatic, at the best of times, but he thought she wouldn't have texted him if it wasn't serious. Especially given the fact that they hadn't spoken since his birthday. He had expected her to break the silence at some point, but somehow the thought at never occurred to him that it would be done in such a way that caused this level of panic to shoot through him.

Of course, this panic was of an entirely different kind.

"I'm so sorry Peggy."

"Go, go. I'll be here. Always." She smiled and picked up one of the large drinks, a mischievous look on her face. "And I expect the full report of this friend when you come back. If its who I'm thinking of, then I want every detail. Tony was abysmally scant on anything that didn't involve gossiping about you."

"Peggy."

"Lord, Steve, lighten up will you?" She took another sip before she set down the drink, pushing it towards his side of the table as she wiped off her lipstick from the rim. "Best not tell Daniel about this. He does worry."

"It's clear he loves you."

"He does. And I, him." She stood up, smoothing down her pants before she reached up her hands to fix her hair. "Now go. Before any of my good for nothing children and grandchildren see you sneaking out."

"I'll come back."

"I'm counting on it. Maybe you can persuade that new friend of yours to join next time?"

"If she hasn't gotten herself blow up by then."

"Is she prone to that sort of thing?"

"Explosions? No. Trouble? Yes."

"Then I like her already. Give her my best and tell her I'm looking forward to meeting her," Peggy said, leaning up to give him the lightest kiss on her cheek. "We could do with a bit of trouble around here."


Self-isolation does wonders for returning to stories you legitimately forgot existed for two years eh?

Sorry for the wait, but life really does come at you fast. I'm outlined through the end of this story, though, so progress has been made! See you all soon!

P.s. Sorry for all the dialogue getting cut off in this chapter. I realized it happened a lot, but both Peter and Steve are feeling very uncomfortable right now. I'll try and keep it to a minimum in the future. Also, if you notice any mistakes let me know! I have a really hard time catching them for myself.