Peter Parker paced up and down the room the whole night waiting for Elisabeth's call. The red glaring LED lights of his alarm clock tried warning him that the hour was getting too late, but the safety of his friend came first, the call of his stupid, reckless friend was what he needed in order to even think about sleep. Luckily for him, his more practical friend, Harry Osborn, was nearby and not ignorant to the constant footsteps that echoed through the door. Sighing, he made the resolution to push past the door connecting theirrooms to confront Peter.
"She's probably fallen asleep, Parker," he sat down on the untouched lux mattress. "She's been out saving the world, according to you, and I think that took just a little too much of her energy."
His eyes rolled by their own will. He crossed his arms across his chest just as he finished one more round around the room to fix Harry with a look. Said man raised his hands up, mockingly conceding to him. "You're doing no one good staying up late, so I – hey!" Harry flashed Peter with a warning glance as he slowly reached for his friend's cellphone.
"Harry – "
"Peter," he put the phone in his pajama pocket. "It's for your own good. You'll get it back tomorrow," he promised. "Goodnight." And with that, he was out of the room.
Peter managed to get as close as possible to the door before he heard the unmistakable click of the lock. Part of him was still tempted to be unrelenting and knock on the door, keep Harry awake, but the bigger part of him realized how childish that seemed and was reminded of how old he was again. With a reluctant sigh, he finally kicked off his sneakers to jump on top of his bed – only to sit back up.
There were more ways than one to getting in contact with Elisabeth, he thought, staring at the suitcase in the corner. The trip was ending soon anyway, and since tomorrow was just a review on the information they gathered over in Philadelphia – yes, Peter could call in sick to drop by her apartment.
Sliding off his bed, Peter threw his whole body into the idea as he locked his side of the door and sauntered over to his luggage. Unzipping it, he pulled out his hand-sewn outfit and pulled tightly on the fabric as if to assure himself that this idea was good. It was sound, and no one but Harry would really miss him.
Grabbing one of the convenient notepads the hotel had left in the room, Peter scribbled down a quick note for Harry and slid it through the crevice of the door. Satisfied with everything else, he zipped up his outfit, opened up his hotel window, and jumped out. And if anyone had seen him, well, Peter couldn't really worry about that right now. There were too many things going on in his head and besides, swinging from building to building was something that he thought required a bit more attention.
Ξ
"My system is kind of down, right now," the suited up millionaire – (or was he a trillionare now?) – looked over at the rest of his companions at the table. The two spies were too busy conversing with each other to pay him much heed, and he severely doubted that the green beast and the foreign god had any American currency on them. All that was left to throw puppy eyes at had been Grandpa, but seeing as he was halfway towards La La Land, Tony Stark sighed and fixed the waitress with the best pitiful look he could muster. Why couldn't heroes have a free pass anyway? He literally almost paid with his life to save them.
"That's actually a good point, sir," the waitress said. Had he said that aloud? Oops. But she had agreed with him.
"Does that mean?" Tony's voice trailed off. He didn't want to assume but if she was offering, well – he could live with the disbelieving looks Legolas was sending him. The waitress managed out a tired smile and put away the small tab.
"It's the least I could do to show you my gratitude," she nodded towards him and his friends before returning to the major clean-up job the storefront sorely needed. It was then that he realized that the world needed more people like her. Or did they? He pretended to not feel the sudden warmth spreading through his chest as he cast a look about his ragged team.
"Alright guys, time to go does not look like hot messes," he announced, rising from his chair. He glanced around his friends and spotted the Captain still lost in a dream and shot Thora look. "Hit him awake, will you?"
Ξ
Aches which her body had been ignorant up to now were waking up again as Elisabeth soaked herself into a nice warm bubble bath. The soft tunes of old waltzed through the tan-tiled bathroom, painting pictures of past loves and autumn walks. Letting out a sigh, she reached for the porcelain tea cup set on the small table next to her bath and let the hot liquid burn down her esophagus. She was warm everywhere and she would not have it any other way.
Her phone chirped with another notification and belatedly she realized that she should have appeased her family and friends first before indulging herself, but technically, she was a hero too, right? And if Tony Stark thought that they were owed at least one freebie in life, then this would be her's – a quiet night to settle in and relax. Of course, she realized her reasoning was bull but alas – she sunk deeper into her bath, she was going to treat herself whether anyone liked it or not.
"I thought you said you were going to call," Elisabeth breathed in the water, soap, bubbles – she rose from her submerged state choking, coughing – until she remembered that the voice had come from somewhere near or in her bathroom and so, she dove under the water again. Despite her bath flooding her ears, she still heard the throaty chuckle of the stranger; "Lizzy, it's me."
Blindly, she sought out the rubber duck she knew she had put in her bath and threw it at the direction of the voice.
"Peter freaking Parker –"
"It's actually Spiderman right now," Elisabeth's head shot up to find the mask-less hero casually pilfering through her vanity. "You didn't call," he brought up, his back still facing her.
"And that justifies you dropping in on me while I bathe?"
"You're fault you're nosy," Peter retorted, turning to face her. But before he could even get a glimpse of the interior bathroom, a towel had smacked his face.
"You're fault you crashed into my bedroom in all your Spiderman glory," Elisabeth raged as she hauled herself out of the tub. She quickly grabbed her bathrobe and tied it securely round her waist before wrapping her hair in a towel. She slipped on her softest pair of slippers afterwards and headed towards the unmasked hero. "I was fine being ignorant about your weird abilities, because now, you assume you have free license to terrorize me with them!" she threw her body into the loveseat in her room.
"Cute slippers," Peter folded the towel and returned it to its place. "I was just worried," he admitted – he truly was. If he was going to take on the responsibility that came with his powers, then he had to do better. He had to protect the ones he loved at least if he was to try protecting anyone else. He sat on the floor in front of her chair and poked one of the bunny ears attached to the slipper.
"That doesn't justify anything, Parker – even my family haven't heard much but an 'okay' yet," Elisabeth argued, but she could understand him, and that was forgiveness itself as she stood up and opened one of her drawers. "Pajamas or sweats?" she asked. Ever since abruptly discovering Peter's secret identity, he had persuaded her to keep some of his clothes with her for emergencies. Especially now, since she had moved out into a new neighborhood, he reasoned, he would have one more haven to go to just in case he got compromised.
"Sweats, it's late," Peter replied, jumping up to his feet. Elisabeth pulled them out of her drawer and threw the bundle of clothes at her best friend's head. "Thanks," and he was out, hogging her only bathroom.
Elisabeth sighed as she took out her own pair of pajamas to change into. Double checking to make sure Peter had all he needed, she headed into the spare bedroom of her homely apartment to change. She supposed that she deserved this as retribution for all the times she had disobeyed her mom; a chuckle squeezed out of her – no, she definitely did not deserve this much trouble.
Ξ
"The Avengers?" Peter looked up at the ceiling, his body taking over much of the sofa in Elisabeth's quaint living room. She nodded her head as she bustled around her tiny kitchen to prepare the two of them some very late midnight snacks. A faint 'wow' emitted from Parker and she refrained from letting out any laughter. "I don't know whether to say cool or not," he later admitted.
Elisabeth finished cutting the sub in half and dropped it onto the plate by her before reaching out for the done popcorn in the microwave. "What makes you say that?" she asked as she felt Peter maneuver behind her to reach the cups in the top shelf above the stove.
"Because, they're heroes," he said. "Soda or water?" he pulled open her fridge.
"Always water," she replied, moving their food to the coffee table. She turned the television on, quick to lower the volume before she began to traverse through the channels. The local ones had so far broadcasted nothing but a retelling of the invasion of Manhattan. "Aren't you one too? What could ever make heroes bad relations?"
"The enemies always go after those they're the closest to," he plopped down in the seat next to her. Elisabeth curled her feet under her legs as she reached for her half of the sub.
She took one bite out of it and slowly began to chew, pondering over Peter's answer. "Is it safe to eat?"
She gave his shoulder a hard shove as she swallowed down her food; "That's only in fiction – it's too much work to go after us, measly peasants."
"Well you asked, and what if they're desperate?" he threw back, but then he noticed the show that she had chosen for their sporadic all-nighter. "Game of Thrones?"
"I don't care if you haven't caught up – we're watching it, peasant," Elisabeth took another bite out of her sub as Peter's hand dug into the popcorn. He made no comment after as she settled herself deep into her sofa and pulled the blanket around her back.
Peter was wrong, she concluded as the Mother of Dragons pulled off another badass move. Heroes were good by default and she was safe – she always would be. Peter, for all his tardiness in school, would always have her back if she was in dire need or trouble. It was just some trait in him that compelled him to keep his loved ones safe, and she strongly believed that she had managed to make into his list of precious people. And associating with the Avengers was nothing, she thought. The encounter had been brief anyway and she stalwartly doubted that anyone evil out there was dumb enough to challenge not only a hero but a team of heroes, by pulling out the ransom ploy against them.
Yeah, definitely wrong, she thought as sleep slowly embraced her.
Ξ
When she woke up the following morning, she was in her bed with no memory of how she got there or how the Game of Thrones episode even progressed. Elisabeth's fingers blindly sought out her phone, but to no avail, she only discovered a sticky note left over where the cellular device was supposed to be. Realizing that she truly had no option but to finally open her eyes and read the note, Elisabeth let out a groan as she did so;
Lizzy,
Gave your parents a call and answered your friends' text messages. According to your mom, you owe her a weeklong stay back at your aunt's house this summer if you want any hope to 'redeem' yourself. Have fun.
Peter.
PS. I've never heard anyone snore so loud before.
The note crumpled in her fist as she chucked it across the room. There was a domesticized manner in which Elisabeth and Peter used whenever in each other's company. Typically, it was restrained to her apartment or his house, but sometimes it would overlap in their everyday schedules. Sometimes, Elisabeth would unconsciously prep two cups of coffee in the morning, and in particular, on Wednesdays because that was the day Peter usually swooped into her kitchen unashamedly dropping her copy of the daily newspaper on the marbled countertop in exchange for the hot beverage. Or sometimes it was in the way where Elisabeth would occasionally come home with the week's grocery littering her living room rug with the television casually droning on in the background as white noise, because God, Peter would never learn and remember to turn it off.
It was a strange friendship that they operated in, but it worked, and as Elisabeth picked up her camera off her lap, she wondered if she should worry about how too normal it seemed sometimes. But her phone was beeping and she had to head back to work soon or else she'd be shipped off to the Manhattan branch of the business; people had come in and out of that restaurant far too many times since the Avengers had visited it, but since then, no word that they had come by again reached her ear and so she assumed that it was only to be a once in a lifetime thing for them. That, or they had gotten wind of the booming popularity that the shawarma joint had fallen into and didn't favor the idea of hanging about such a publicized area. Either way the manager there too, was unpleasant enough without the hordes of tourist cameras and wide-eyed questions constantly being shoved in her face, that she had no inkling of desire to return there despite the larger wage. She would make do without the extra few dollars if it meant preserving her sanity and crime-free record.
Letting out a brief sigh, Elisabeth juggled her leftover lunch of Aunt May's special lasagna delivered by Peter, in her arms along with her prized camera as she looked around for the nearest trash bin to dispose of her empty water bottle into. She spotted one a a few paces to the right and made a beeline for it. Her determination to ease her load resulted in a tunnel vision rendering her completely unaware of the jogging man heading her way.
Safe to say, the collision happened but unlike the romance novellas she carefully hoarded under her bed, there were no strong arms locking themselves around her waist to bring her in sight of dark alluring eyes. Nor had there been a strong chiseled chest and an abrupt accidental kiss to cushion her fall. That was fine, though, as Elisabeth's main concern hadn't been primarily on finding a picturesque love but rather, protecting her camera.
"I'm so sorry," the stranger said as their hand instantly went out to curl around her bicep as Elisabeth slowly got up. She was too immersed with the inspection of her camera that she did not notice the stares that their duo was garnering. Her companion, did, however but did not want to suggest anything until he was sure she was fine; "Are you okay, ma'am?"
The lenses were still intact, no scratches seemed to have appeared on the matte body of her precious Nikon – ma'am?
Elisabeth finally pried her eyes away from her gadget and found it very tempting to drop her mouth open. Sure, the suit was gone and had been traded for something that had probably been the forties' take on casual outerwear, and his eyes were open too – no more post-battle fatigue wearing his eyelids down, and he was cleaner and – "I'm so sorry!" she bowed her head down as she took an inconspicuous scan of their surroundings. Besides her, it seemed everyone else had taken note of who was in her company and was attempting to give them a wide berth on the narrow walkway they were standing in the middle of.
Captain America, (or was she suppose to call him Steve Rogers when he very much seemed, off-duty?), scratched his cheek as he gave her a sheepish smile. The man was going to kill her – why did he have to look so handsome? "It's okay, I mean, I wasn't looking where I was going actually," he stammered out.
Elisabeth finally mustered enough strength to look him in the eye again and gave a tentative smile. "I wasn't too," she admitted. "So we're both at fault, I suppose."
"Yeah – "
"Well," both of them stopped speaking as they realized that they had cut each other off. Elisabeth laughed as Captain America, too, felt his lips quirk up in passing amusement.
"You were our waitress back in that shawarma joint, right?" Steve questioned. He continued at her wide-eyed nod, "I'm sorry that I didn't get to exactly eat it." And he truly was. Not only had he been tired after fighting for a prolonged time, but he had also been voracious, and just as they had arrived at Tony's abrasive building, he all but emptied out the fridge much to his friends' disapproval. Elisabeth waved the apology away as she began walking back to work. She would be late give or take a few minutes, but she would take any reprimanding that her boss would deal out to her for this once in a lifetime moment to converse with one of America's superheroes. "Saving the world can get the best of you, I get it," she said as they crossed an intersection.
"Just wanted to clear my name," he chuckled.
Right, because saving Manhattan wasn't enough to prove to her about his immaculate reputation, she thought as she stopped by an unassuming chain restaurant. "Well, this is me," she announced, pulling out her crumbled apron from her purse. "Sorry if I made you go out of your way," she added as she watched him take in his surroundings. A part of her wondered if the stories were true, if he had truly lived in Brooklyn back then. She never paid much attention in her history classes to remember, and she had never been able to purchase enough free time to explore the Smithsonian down in DC whenever she was visiting her aunt for their annual family barbeque. If they were true, she watched as his eyes continuously darted between the old diner and adjacent alleyway, then she wondered if he was always stuck reminiscing and comparing his past and present.
"Captain America," she called out as the minutes went by.
"Steve," she tried.
Blank blue eyes stared at her. "Steve?' she tried again. The man shook his head.
"Sorry, I'm just –"
"It's okay," she smiled and going on her whim, grabbed her phone and swiped in her passcode before pressing the 'Add New Contact' icon. "You don't have to but, it looked like you were looking for something," she nodded at the landmarks he had been staring at. "You may be from Brooklyn, but I know Brooklyn...or at least the updated version of it..If you need any help," she slowly held out her phone towards him. "I'm usually free after eight."
About five seconds passed without a response from the Captain, a vague sense of apprehension slowly began to gnaw at her gut. Had she been too forward? Was this too much? Did one not simply just offer up help to a superhe –
"Thanks," it seemed genuine, and as the Captain took out his own phone for her to put her own number in, Elisabeth suddenly found herself tingling from her toes up. This was actually happening. "I'll be sure to give you a call," he nodded as he began backtracking the path they had just taken.
Elisabeth reciprocated the action, "See you around!" She waved. Then she sought his contact in her phone to confirm to herself that this had truly just happened.
Steve Rogers
And below it was his number.
Ξ
Hey
Pale digits swiftly darted across the glaring white screen as they pressed the proper letters for her reply; hi.
When is your work done?
Elisabeth glanced at the clock and then looked out the circular window showing the actual diner. The evening rush had mostly gone by now and the few stragglers and slow-eaters were all that remained. Besides her, the staff included three waiters, and one janitor and sous chef. Her boss typically dropped in at closing time to count up the income but otherwise, he didn't really expect anyone but the janitor and their few waiters to be left in the restaurant; he wasn't going to be looking for her.
I can leave now, if you need me.
Then almost timidly she added:
Please need me.
She sauntered back to her cooking area. There was nothing but some French onion soup left simmering over the stove and an empty bowl waiting for it in her side of the kitchen. Her sous chef, on the other hand, was busily bustling from stove to stove – stirring and chopping the ingredients required for her orders. She should take pity and help but…
Captain America used emojis.
"Oh just leave already," her sous chef called out. "God knows by that sickening smile of yours, that you have a date."
Elisabeth rolled her eyes as she poured the soup into the bowl and chopped fresh parsley to sprinkle over the top. "Have a goodnight to you too, Jenn," she bid as she got a hold of one of the waiters. They took her dish and with that, Elisabeth was on her way to swiping out.
Where should I meet you?
She hopped into the employee restroom and hogged a stall for herself to change into some blue jeans and a white button up blouse. Messily tucking the latter in, Elisabeth shoved the rest of her work clothes into her backpack.
Her phone buzzed soon after with a new reply.
I'm outside.
Author's note: FFN is doing some weird things. When I copy and paste the chapter, it creates weird spacings between everything. Anyway - as always, hope you liked it and drop a review to let me know how it's going!