I'm sleep-deprived and had too much schoolwork yesterday so all I can say right now is sorry. Please don't kill me, I promise I'll get back on schedule. But yay for over 50 K words!
Lucky
Chapter Twenty-Five: Now We're Getting Somewhere
He was sitting on the ceiling of the room that formerly held the glass cell and Loki. His legs were crossed, and his lenses gave nothing away as he fingered a tear in the red part of the costume he wore, reflecting the room back at itself. Under the goggles, Peter's brown irises shimmered wetly, a single tear escaping and sliding towards his forehead, but was stopped by the edge of the lens.
He didn't know why he was so worked up over Phil. Maybe because he so clearly could have helped yet didn't. Maybe it was the way he was reminded of his Uncle Ben and the similar ways they died, with Peter there, watching, trying to help. With his hands pressed against the hole in their chest and the blood still leaking through his fingers, staining them until he could get to a sink and wash them off with fervor.
He hadn't even known the agent for long.
The first time they'd met was that library and he hadn't been around the lab very often, but he could tell – heck, anyone could tell – that he was a good guy. The calm collectiveness and still the warmth and trust. Wow… he really had been like Ben.
Peter's fingers tugged at the bottom of his half-mask, pulling it down enough for him to let out a tiny sniff and wipe his nose before he anxiously replaced it when he heard the footsteps coming a mile away. The brunet was alone the room and he knew that both Dr. Banner and Thor were missing. Agent Romanoff was with Agent Barton. Director Fury had pulled Agent Hill along to his impromptu meeting with Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark. It was unlikely that he'd be joined by anyone and that fact alone left him wondering who was coming.
It took a good five minutes for the person to get there, five minutes of the boy composing himself and occupying his free thoughts with inane wonderings of how many people it took to run the whole Helicarrier. Below Spider-man, Mr. Stark now stood at the edge of the catwalk, staring off into the space where the cage once was with his arms behind him.
"Hey," the webbed wonder called down, thankful that his voice was a lot steadier than it would've been a couple minutes ago. "Come all the way in here for little ol' me?" From the way the billionaire's head jerked up at his voice, he assumed not.
"No, no," he shook his head with a pause, before filling the silence almost hyperactively. "Why are you even here?"
Spider-man cocked his own head to the side. "Here in this room… here on this ship?"
"Both, all, whatever," he dismissed with a wave of his hand.
"Well… I'm in this room because no one told me to go anywhere else."
"Really? Fury didn't tell you about his little pow-wow? I thought you skipped."
"Hm, no," Spidey hummed. "Didn't need me there. Doesn't need me here."
"What?" The man sounded genuinely confused and the vigilante snorted.
"You really think I need to be here? The director has Iron Man, Captain America, the Hulk, a couple assassins, and a literal god, along with the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D., and you think he needs a wall-crawling jokester around?" A self-deprecating laugh rang out at the end of the list. "Oh, that's richer than you."
"Well, why are you here then?" Mr. Stark snapped back, though with not as much force. "If you're so useless, why are you here?"
He paused and tilted his hooded countenance the other way as the air of the room suddenly changed from bitterly charged to melancholy. "Because Ag – Phil, asked me. Because people were going to get hurt. Because whatever I do, whatever happens, I will not let people get hurt on my watch." Spidey shrunk in on himself from where he had been sitting, albeit upside-down, straight up and continued in an inaudible tone. "But I couldn't save Phil."
The area drifted into silence, neither replying to the impassioned speech that the superhero had voiced. They sat, or stood, in the quiet comfortably, if a bit tensely in some cases, until another set of footfalls reached the arachnid's ears. A few more minutes passed, and Captain Rogers entered through the other doorway, a few yards away from Mr. Stark. The former's eyes flashed up to Spidey momentarily as the blonde came to stand just as he was, briefly acknowledging the boy's presence.
"Was he married?" the captain asked, and it was clear who the subject was. The spider on the ceiling let out a quiet sigh.
"No," the brown-haired philanthropist answered shortly. "There was a, uh – cellist, I think."
"I'm sorry. He seemed like a good man."
"He was an idiot." Now that statement dragged Spider-man back into the conversation. The irate tone was clear, and he stepped backwards from the edge of the platform.
"Why? For believing?" Captain Rogers accused.
"For taking on Loki alone," Mr. Stark reiterated. Spidey held back the comment that he hadn't been alone, that he had been there, but hadn't been strong enough to help. Because as selfish as it was, he didn't want his idols to hate him. He wasn't sure if he could take something like that at that moment.
"He was doing his job."
"He was out of his league. He should have waited. He should have—"
"Sometimes there isn't a way out, Tony." The red-and-black clothed boy wanted to object, but also didn't, the words aching to jump out of his mouth yet stuck in his throat at the same time as he watched the blonde move closer to the other adult.
"Right. I've heard that before." The two crossed paths and kept going, only Rogers turning around to face Stark.
"Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?"
"We are not soldiers," he responded with conviction, whipping around, then hesitated. "I'm not marching to Fury's fife."
"Neither am I," Captain Rogers concurred unexpectedly. "He's got the same blood on his hands that Loki does, but right now we have to put that behind us and get this done. Now Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list—" Spider-man followed the genius' distracted gaze over to where Phil had laid before dying, where there was still a red-tinged stain on the wall and a dent in the grate that was shaped suspiciously like his own hand.
Mr. Stark jerked his head up to interrupt the other. "He made it personal."
"That's not the point."
"That is the point. That's Loki's point. He hit us all right where we live." Up above their heads, Spidey stifled a rather hysterical giggle at the thought of him living somewhere permanent but followed the train of thought. It was actually quite brilliant, and there was no one who knew an egotistical, but sharp, mind like another egotistical, sharp mind. No offense to Mr. Stark. "Why?"
"To tear us apart," the All-American reasoned.
"Yeah, divide and conquer is great but – he knows he has to take us out to win, right? That's what he wants. He wants to beat us, he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience."
"Right. I caught his act in Stuttgart."
"Yeah, that's just the previews, this is – this is opening night," the brunet told the room, on a roll now. He was pacing, walking up the stairs and talking with his hands. "And Loki, he's – he's—"
"A diva?" Spider-man suggested in an only partially joking voice as he stood on the roof and made his way down the wall. He walked at a ninety-degree angle to the ground before stepping to join them on the floor like a normal person.
"A full-tilt diva!" Mr. Stark continued with a wild point at the spider-teen. "He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered—" He cut himself off as Captain Rogers raised his eyebrows, coming to the same conclusion as the rest of the room. "Son of a bitch." The rogue god was going to Stark Tower.
"I'll get Romanoff," the former icicle told him.
"I'll get my armor," he said at the same time.
"Um, do we have a plan?" the youngest asked warily.
"Yes."
"No."
The two opposites locked eyes and Rogers sighed. "No."
Spidey snorted. "Mr. Stark's a baad influence on you." The mentioned man gave them both a lopsided, rakish grin before he took off down the hall to find and fix his battered armor, preening under the attentions. The last two gave each other a look, mostly amused on the vigilante's part, and the masked boy gave him a messy, two-fingered salute. "C'mon, Captain! Let's go find those spies!" And they were off down the blank halls of the base, running what must've been at least a mile to retrieve the circular shield and shuffle around Spider-man's duffel bag for the extra web fluid pellets, though neither slowed nor showed signs of fatigue. Finally – finally – they made it to the wing and the room the two agents were in, including the one that had been mind-controlled by Loki.
"Time to go," the captain informed the redhead when he opened the door.
"Go where?" she countered logically.
"I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?"
"I can." A man with dirty-blonde hair stepped out from the bathroom while drying his hands, eyes no longer the unnatural bright blue. Agent Romanoff gave Captain Rogers a look when he warily evaluated Agent Barton up and down and nodded, not missing the glare Spider-man was so obviously giving him from behind his back at his lack of trust. If the man himself had any opinion on the matter, he didn't say anything besides the intrigue he showed the shorter figure that was almost covered by the star-spangled soldier's bulk.
"Got a suit?" the history-book hero addressed him.
"Yeah."
"Then suit up." A furry, midnight-colored form popped its head out from behind Agent Romanoff and meowed.
"Hiro!" Spidey burst out joyfully, vaulting over his teammates when he couldn't find a way around the person blocking the door. He swept up the cat, who purred deeply and bumped his nose to the teenager's mask-covered one, but it was cute, nonetheless. "Thanks for keeping him safe, Agent Romanoff."
"No problem," she replied in her typical stoic fashion that was rather out of place with the sweet scene before her. The captain led her out of the room with the teen superhero close behind, kit on his shoulder as usual, and Barton following by Spider-man's other shoulder. On their journey back through the Helicarrier to who knew where, probably for the spies' gear, the new addition leaned a little closer by his ear.
"So… where are we going?" he inquired in a harsh whisper.
"To give Loki a good butt-whooping," came the entirely too-enthusiastic reply. "There are a number of places I especially want to hit him." The two shared a sharp smile before being interrupted by the impassioned hisses and growls coming from Hiro, who was staring straight forward and grumbling at the mention of the supervillain. Leading to the quiet giggle-fest that happened when the males locked eyes – or lenses.
"I like this cat," Agent Barton declared as he reached out an arm to scratch between the animal's velvety ears. The owner of those ears responded in turn with a kinder meow than the low complaints from before, rubbing his head up against the bird-themed agent. On the verge of tipping off his seat, Hiro finally decided that if he was going to interact with the man, he should be closer to said man, and leapt deftly over to the blonde's shoulder in mid-stride. He bumped his head against Barton's cheek once more.
Spidey gave a short laugh. "He likes you too. 'Course, he likes most people. Except Loki, Flash, and a couple other people who are now scarred for life and won't go anywhere near a cat anymore."
"Well, he has good taste." The redhead in front of them suddenly hung a right into a weapons storage room with no warning, the brunet almost running into her during the tight turn and ending up following Agent Barton in. When the blonde started bending over to gather a quiver of his signature arrows, the kit on his shoulder decided that his back looked like a good springboard and launched himself as his ride stood back up. Using Captain Rogers' head as a waypoint, Hiro bounced his way back to Spider-man's shoulder. The patriot straightened as much more as his already tense military posture allowed and blinked twice at the feline in surprise. The teen, now with his constant companion back on his person, just laughed at his flabbergasted expression before turning back to the now fully equipped Black Widow.
"Let's go catch us a god, boys."
Hawkeye flashed them all a predatory smile as he flipped out the ends of his bow with a jerk. "Finally. Now we're getting somewhere."
Poor, poor Peter is blaming himself for everything again and Hawkeye's finally back. Yay! And I mean that "yay" only for the second one. I'm not that cruel… I hate doing this to my characters (as I've said probably too many times by now) but I think it helps the story along. And don't worry, Peter will get help at some point, but he might take a while to get out of his funk.
Anyway, I stalled out partially during this chapter (writer's block is a stupid, stupid thing), so I'm sorry if part of it is rough. Instead, during that time, I was stuck and was trying to get inspired again by reading other amazing fanfiction on this site. The one that finally got me back was Fernandidilly-yo's "Reintroducing Hope," which is awesome (go read it), so you have them to thank. And so do I. So, thank you Fernandidilly-yo!
…
Don't worry, I'm not so delusional to think that they're actually reading my story. I messaged them while back.
Lucky
P.S. Aziza "Death Girl" Foret won the poll, so you'll be seeing her in (much) later chapters.
To MayaHikari: Simple logic that so many people don't seem to understand.
To MerlinGryffindor: Thanks, sorry for the late update. I've said it a million times, but I'll say it again: homework is stupid. I swear, next week's will be on time!
To Vladimir Mithrander: Eeee, I can't wait to see it! I've managed to avoid spoilers so far (which is an accomplishment at my school) and am just vibrating out of my chair in anticipation!
To butterflypuss: Thanks!
To son of morgona: Yay! Always good to hear!
To winfield56: Thanks, I try to keep chapter lengths consistent but it's hard when you've written something and then realized you need chapters...