And You Will Know Me Still Chapter 77, a captain america fanfic

A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, Ant-Man, and Spiderman: Homecoming.

As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.

Note 1: Changes had to be made in chapter 75. Please go back and reread it or some of what's coming up won't make sense.

Year From Hell: Season 3, in progress. Please stand by…

Note 2: Prayers are requested for my baby sister who will be having surgery the week of Thanksgiving.

Namaste,

Sunny

"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."

― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

Winter Soldier

And You Will Know Me Still

Chapter 77

As Peter suspected, Flash Thompson was the first out of the limo. He scowled as he buttoned the jacket of his three-piece suit. From the looks of it, he paid more for the suit than May had for her car. Flash glanced furtively at the crowd, his dark expression showing reluctant resignation that had to do with the strident voice coming from the back seat.

"Oh, my ******* God! How did I let my father talk me into this? Don't just stand there looking stupid, Eugene. Get me out of here!"

A foot appeared at the same time as a wave of pink ruffles. The driver and Flash each took a hand, holding on until the owner was standing on the curb. The girl glared and tugged herself free to adjust the tiara in her expensively highlighted and styled brown hair.

She picked up the front of the dress, stuck her nose in the air, and stomped away in a rustle of taffeta and a wave of expensive cologne, shouting, "Come on, Eugene! The sooner we get to this ******* dance, the sooner we can leave."

Eventually, the girl's voice faded and relative peace returned. Then, Ned pushed past him as the next person alighted from the limo with a hand from the driver. Again, he tipped his hat, and released her. "Violet! Over here!"

She turned toward Ned, her face lighting up in a brilliant smile. Violet had light red hair done up in a fancy braid and wrapped around the back of her head. Tiny white flowers poked their heads through the strands, reminding him of the fairy folk from a kid's movie he'd seen when he was much younger. Her dress was the color of the wine May and Sam had drunk during dinner the night Felicia came over to study. The lacy off-the-shoulder top left her upper chest bare without showing even a little cleavage, and the skirt swished around her feet as she walked.

Ned took her hand, tucked it around his elbow, and turned them in the direction of the main ballroom, flashing a smug grin at the crowd. Peter watched them go, nearly jumping when a hand touched his shoulder. Seeing Felicia, he smiled so hard, his face ached. "Oh, hey. You made it."

"Yeah." She had a good long look at him and arched one eyebrow, her smile of greeting turning into a slight smirk. "O-oh. You look hot in black."

At this moment, Peter was eternally grateful to Mr. de la Vega at the Suit Shop just down the street from Ned's place. For the same price as a tie to match Felicia's dress, he'd rented him an all-black suit with all the accessories. Told him to take his time about returning it. "Thanks. And you look…"

Peter couldn't find the words to describe how stunning Felicia looked tonight, more so than usual. The dress had thousands of tiny silver-grey beads all over. From the waist down, the beads hung in fringes that swayed with the smallest movement. The slit stopped at mid-thigh, to his relief, leaving her left leg bare. Felicia stood with all her weight on the right foot, her left resting on the toe of her heels made of nothing more than a few thin straps. Her toenails were painted to match.

Tearing his gaze from the leg showing through the slit, Peter admired her hair, as he always did, but tonight, instead of a simple braid down her back, the soft as silk strands had been braided on the sides and pinned in the back. The rest of her hair was twisted into a bunch at her nape, with wispy bits hanging from her temples. For the first time since they met, she wore both make-up and jewelry. Where most girls would've worn gold, Felicia had adorned herself with silver that moved as she did. The stones and metal caught the light, bouncing it around, drawing his eyes to her ears and neck, almost as if she'd been lightly coated in those places with a layer of sweet frosting.

His hearing picked up the thumping of her heartbeat, bringing him to the realization that it had sped up while he'd been giving her a leisurely perusal. Should he tell her that, next to Flash's date, she was the picture of elegance, sophistication, and grace? That she embodied the women men wrote sonnets about and fought wars over? Then, he thought again. Felicia would probably be insulted at the insinuation that her only value was because of her beauty, but that was far from the truth. He admired her mind too.

Hands on her hips, she gazed at him through long, dark lashes, startling him again, spurring him to finish his thought with, "…amazingly beautiful."

Felicia snorted and took the elbow he extended. "Of course I look amazing, after all those hours of shopping with your aunt. Not to mention how long it took to do my hair and make-up."

"That's why she sent me to stay with Ned." Peter's hand came up to slap his forehead, turning it into a brush at the hair in front.

~~O~~

Inside the ballroom, Peter looked around for Ned and found him nodding and smiling in a way that said he wanted to slit his own throat. As they got closer, he could see why. Flash and his date were seated at the same table, and the girl was silently fuming about something

Felicia leaned close to whisper, "It looks like she was caught in an explosion at a cotton candy factory." Peter agreed, covering his mouth with a hand to hide the snort. "Do we have to sit with them?"

"Not if you don't want to, but Ned's my best friend. He wants me to get to know Violet."

Her hand tightened on his arm. "I've seen her in the hall with her friends, refugees from the movie 'Clueless', except with bigger… brains. Got more money than sense, to go by that dress."

Putting his mouth close to her ear, Peter confessed, "May says that money can't buy class."

"May's right," Felicia agreed, pointing at the girl with her chin, "And there sits a shining example."

The look in her eyes reminded him of how she arrived. "How'd you score a ride with Flash?"

"Right place, right time. Ran into Violet and her mother while May and I were out shopping. Apparently, your aunt is well connected in this city. They were talking and Violet offered to have the limo pick me up so May wouldn't have to cross the bridge."

"What's the rest of it?"

Felicia's eyes went into mischief mode. "Violet is Flash's cousin. Her parental units are using their limo tonight, and that Violet and I could ride with Flash and his date. The girl's name is Greta Skoob, by the way. Of the Montpelier Skoobs, of course."

"Oh, naturally," Peter agreed with feigned innocence.

"Her dad's in business with Flash's or so I gathered. My guess is they're matchmaking to keep all the lovely money in the family in order continue to build their already vast respective empires. Don't think it's gonna work out."

Peter laid his hand over Felicia's where it gripped his elbow. "I agree."

Greta's strident voice rose above the murmur of voices. "…and why are you just sitting there, Eugene? Go get me something to drink. And bring an extra tablecloth. I don't want to get anything on my dress. It's couture you know. One of a kind."

Peter resisted looking at Felicia or they'd both end up laughing. With as much sincerity as he could muster, he whispered, "It's the first and only time I've ever felt sorry for Flash."

In the same tone, she whispered back, "Ditto. Now put on your happy face, Peter, and let the party begin."

Evolve Academy for the Performing Arts

Joliet, Illinois

Watching the cars come and go via CCTV, Dinah breathed in the air of possibilities and exhale the spirit of success that was moving closer every day. Soon, she, Klaus, the students, and a few well-chosen instructors as chaperones would find themselves on a plane bound for Paris.

There, further testing was scheduled, though their novitiates had no idea of the true purpose of this odyssey. To them, this would be food for their dancers' souls. In a way, it was, but not as they'd dreamed in their rooms each night, seeing themselves performing with the most prestigious dance companies in the world. They would be revered by the elite as well as the bourgeoisie who would stand in line and pay outrageous sums for the privilege of spending a few precious moments in their presence. It would happen, but in a manner that would benefit their superiors. Dinah would see to it, as would Klaus.

A self-satisfied smirk showed itself briefly then was tucked away where she could take it out at a time of her choosing.

The clock on the mantel struck the hour. Dinah went to the door, stopping in front of the mirror for a quick check of hair and clothes-perfect as always-before letting herself out of the secret room on the top floor.

On the first floor, Dinah made her way to the back of the house, pausing outside the ornate double doors. Before entering the dining hall, she put on the phony smile she'd perfected as a prima ballerina, and turned the knob.

Szeged, Hungary

After Midnight

Crossing the Romania-Hungary border wasn't nearly as difficult as getting into Romania had, to Bucky's immense relief. His biggest problem had been exchanging currency-what little he had-and finding a way to make money.

Sitting in a dark corner of a pub, Bucky swallowed a mouthful of coffee and followed it with a bite of flódni, a Hungarian-Jewish pastry of walnut, apple, poppy seed, and jam. Listening to the people talk as if he weren't here helped with his understanding of the language that couldn't be gotten from the tutorial he found online.

His plans were necessarily fluid, though his ultimate goal was always firmly in sight, or it would be when he got closer to it. Until then, he would put one foot in front of the other and keep on going. When he reached his destination, finding a safe place to sleep for the next few weeks would be a concern.

During the war, before and after Zola's experiments, Bucky and his squad would camp out wherever they could find a place. A few time, they even made lean-tos to protect them from the elements. As the Winter Soldier, that hadn't been something his brain hadn't been programmed to care about his personal safety beyond returning to give his report. With Natasha's help, he relearned to make himself and the basic needs a priority. That included protecting the safety of innocent people who were incapable of doing so themselves. Only now, he had to keep the lowest profile possible. Winter Soldier low, without the cryochamber and the indoctrination chair.

A shadow fell over the table and Bucky looked up at the young woman who had brought his meal. "Hozhatok valami mást?"

"Nem köszönöm." Uncertain of the rules for tipping at this particular pub, Bucky stood to shake the woman's hand, using that as a way to pass her a gratuity. She smiled and tucked the coins into her uniform pocket.

Bucky shrugged into his jacket, gathered his belongings into the backpack, put it on, and buckled the straps in front on his way to the door. As the hour was late, he opted for sleeping in a tree in the woods outside the city limits. Tomorrow, he would return to town to look for day labor, one that paid cash each day to fund the next leg of his journey.

Darcy's Apartment

Upstate New York

The car pulled into a visitor's parking space. The engine cut off and Steve just sat there for a few minutes, his mind going over all possible scenarios regarding Darcy's expectations for their date tonight. They had other plans for their evening until she called to say she didn't feel like going out. He didn't blame her, considering the emotional turmoil of the last couple of days. Because she was out of sorts, so was he. No ideas came to mind on how to help her feel better about meeting her father for the first time.

Steve had to give it to Tony for not forcing the issue, though the stalking thing hadn't won him any favors from Darcy or him. He just hoped they'd both still be speaking to him when he made a confession. The time had to be right for it though, or his life would be hell on earth, as if worrying about Bucky weren't already plaguing him night and day. He didn't need more on his mind, such as how to make amends for keeping vital info from two of the most important people in his life.

Standing by the car, he debated with himself then reached inside, tucking the object out of sight in his breast pocket. Tonight would be the first time he'd ever been inside Darcy's apartment. He crossed the parking lot and the patch of grass in front of the building to knock on her door. She must've been watching for him because the door opened almost immediately, her smile just a little strained as he stepped inside.

"Let me take your jacket and I'll get us something to drink before the tour," she offered as any good hostess would.

Maybe the time wasn't perfect, but it had to be done before he chickened out again, meaning he was no better than Tony lacking the courage to look for and introduce himself to his daughter years ago. "Before we do that, I have to tell you something." He took a tube from his pocket secured with a rubber band, and stood holding it. "I found this while we were cleaning out your mother's studio."

~~O~~

Darcy wrapped her fingers around it and tugged. Reluctantly, he let go, following a few steps behind as she unrolled what turned out to be a partially completed painting in her mother's distinctive style. Emotions flowed from the canvas. Joy, happiness, love… and regret. Artificially created, coming as it was from a falsehood, though she understood her mother's reasons for keeping secrets.

A man in a white tuxedo jacket and bow tie was holding a small girl wearing a frilly dress in Darcy's favorite shade of purple, neither light nor dark, but a perfect foil for the dark hair. They were beside a piano watching an older woman play, affectionate smiles blossoming unashamedly. Darcy had done her homework. The woman was Tony's mother.

However, one small detail was missing. The man, unmistakably Tony Stark as he'd been when Mom had last seen him, wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Had Mom believed he never would've married her if they'd stayed together? That it slipped her mind wasn't a factor. Mom was all about the details. No matter the size, they all meant something, and that's why she believed the exclusion to be important.

The painting itself told the story of how Steve had known the identity of her birth father long before either of them. She should be pissed, but wasn't. A sensation of warmth at her back let her know he was behind her, looking over her shoulder and wondering what she was thinking. He was expecting to incur her wrath; Tony's too, when this little tidbit became known.

To put Steve's mind at ease, Darcy rolled the canvas into a tube, secured it with the rubber band, slipped it into the middle drawer of her desk, and shut it. "I understand why you didn't say anything," she sighed, smiling to reassure him that she wasn't upset. "If I'd found it…" opening and closing her mouth, uncertain what her reaction would've been, she took hold of his hand, "…thanks. Now, take that jacket off so we can get this date started."

"Darce…"

Holding up one finger to stop him, Darcy hit him with a mock stern gaze, "Just a date. No expectations beyond a kiss good night at the end." One eyebrow rose along with a smirk. "Maybe more than one."

Steve's chest deflated in relief as he took off the jacket and passed it to her. "Smells good, and I'm starving."

"We'll see if you still feel that way once you've eaten my cooking."

They both laughed, breaking the tension. "Anything I can do to help?"

Viewpoint Hotel

Long Island City, New York

Junior/Senior Spring Fling Dance

The door to the men's room opened, disgorging several young men, Peter and Ned among them. Flash had barricaded himself in the last stall, hiding from Greta, no doubt, though he'd probably deny it. Peter had tried talking to him, but he refused to unlock the door, and he eventually gave up.

Standing at the railing across from the ladies room, hoping the girls would be out soon, Peter leaning his elbows on the top, watching the crowd below, an ever moving flow of people. Servers made their way through the crowd and tables like human pinballs, bouncing from here to there without missing a beat.

He rolled his eyes thinking about when the waiter came to the table with glasses of water. Greta's shrill voice had berated the man for spilling on her dress though she'd done the deed herself. The man took the blame without changing expression, but that wasn't good enough for her. She demanded to see his manager. He held in a smug grin at the look on her face when told he was the manager filling in for a server who'd called out due to a family emergency.

Ned grabbed Peter's arm and pulled him behind a pillar, laying a finger over his over his lips as a signal for quiet. Leaning close, he hissed, "Violet's sidekicks. I don't think they like me."

Three girls dressed eerily alike in gowns made of sequins over the top half, fitted to their shapes down to their thighs, flaring out to the floor, and gossamer-like wraps, stopped on the other side of the pillar. Each girl wore a different color, not as gaudy as Greta's monstrosity, and less elegant, in Peter's opinion, than Felicia's.

The blonde girl in green crossed her arms and huffed. "I can't believe she actually did it. Violet brought that creepy, uncultured oaf to the dance! Probably has asthma, dandruff, and some other unsightly skin disease."

The one in beige took a mirror from the tiny bag hanging from her wrist, peering into it while talking. "You saw them together and they had photos taken as proof. You're gonna have to pay up."

"Hmph! It'll be a cold day in Maui when she gets her hands on my Ferragamos with the chain embellishment."

"But you lost, Sloan. If word gets out that you welched on a bet, Troy won't come near you. Your life will be ruined."

Their voices faded as they headed downstairs.

~~O~~

"Ned, what's going on?"

Both boys jumped at Violet's sudden appearance. As discretely as he could, Peter inched away so the couple could be alone, using his super-powered hearing to listen in without Violet knowing.

"Wasn't hiding," Ned told her, and Violet had to know he was lying. "Is what those girls said true? Did you ask me to the dance on a bet?"

Chancing a glance, he caught the guilt in Violet's eyes as she looked away and nodded.

To Peter's, and Violet's, shock, Ned mulled over her one-word response. He smiled and slung an arm around her shoulders, turning her toward the stairs down to the ballroom. "I'm cool with that."

"You are?"

"Free food and drinks, kickass music, and a beautiful girl. What more could a guy ask for?"

Violet laughed and hugged his arm. "You're the best, Ned. And just to be clear, all you had to do was accept my invitation, after which I would stand you up."

Easing out of his new hiding place, Peter kept pace with Ned and his girl, listening intently, already knowing where the conversation was headed.

"Seriously? Wh-um, then why are we here? Together."

His friend was in good company with his confusion, because Peter was too.

They stopped walking, and Violet turned Ned to look at her, holding both his hands. A sigh whispered out and again, she looked at the floor, pink coloring her cheeks. "I'm sorry to say that I judged you based on gossip. Then, once I got to know you… Well, you're nothing like what they're saying. You're charming and funny. So open and honest, compassionate, smart. Smarter than anyone I know."

Ned dismissed her apology and assessment of his personality. "Psht. They're just jealous that I'm here with the prettiest girl in school. Bullies are only giving voice to their own insecurities." He smiled sheepishly. "At least that's what my therapist says."

Happy for his friend, Peter hung back until they'd gone into the ballroom before heading down, looking for Felicia. She saw him and waved. When he got close, she grabbed his hand, leading him back toward their table. "The atmosphere vastly improved while you were gone. Greta found other prey to annoy."

"Thank God," he told her with feeling, making her laugh. He loved her laugh. When she showed her true self instead of being polite, like now, his mind went all sorts of places they shouldn't.

They took their seats, overjoyed at the relative silence, which lasted all of five minutes, until Flash returned from his self-imposed exile to the men's room. His expression had turned furtive, as if he were holding on to his sanity with the barest of threads. Felicia saw it too. "Eugene, what's wrong?"

He pushed himself upright in his chair, searching for his drink. Felicia rushed to get him a glass of punch and pressed it into his hand, urging him to take a sip, murmuring softly. Peter marveled at her ability to ease Flash's ill-humor, until he relaxed. "Better?"

Flash dabbed at his mouth and laid the napkin on the table. "Yeah, a little. Thanks."

"Tell me what's wrong."

He cast an uneasy glance around the table and back to Felicia. "Greta's gone. She left."

One side of her mouth turned up in a wry grin. "That's good news, isn't it?"

"Yeah, not so much," he told her quietly. "She took the limo." Felicia burst out laughing, with Peter, Ned, and Violet joining in. Flash was taken aback by their reactions. "In case no one's caught on, we have no way to get home."

Peter exchanged his full plate for the empty one in front of his decathlon teammate and sometime nemesis. Flash automatically picked up a hot wing and took a bite. He pressed the napkin into his hand, offering his opinion though it hadn't been requested, "Sure we do. May'll come get us. And if she can't, there's always the subway."

"Subway?" Flash gripped the edge of the table, his eyes darting around, as if looking for escape from the madness to which he'd been subject since he'd been forced into this date with Greta to appease her parents. "I can't ride the subway, Parker," he told them with disdain. "I don't do trains, buses, taxis, or Ubers either."

"What about…" Felicia stuck her thumb out with a grin. If anything, Flash had less desire to hitchhike his way home than to mix with the thousands upon thousands who rode the rails each day. She sighed dramatically, giving Peter a cheeky grin and wink behind Flash's back. "We'll just have to call Spider-Man then. You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

~~O~~

The lights dimmed and the mirrored ball hanging from the ceiling spun in a slow circle, causing spots of brightness to flow over every surface, one chasing the other in a leisurely race to an unknown destination. The music swirled and tumbled ever so gently around and through the crowd, urging them to heed the call, to join in the celebration of the season where life, dormant throughout the winter months, sprang forth once again.

Felicia's eyes followed Ned and Violet out to the dance floor. To her surprise, Peter's friend seemed to know the steps and the correct way to hold a partner. She turned back to Flash, who, she decided, was taking advantage of her nurturing nature. Violet leaned into Ned, moving her arms around his neck, and after a moment, he tentatively touched the sides of her waist, his big hands making her already tiny proportions seem even smaller.

The song ended and another began. While the tune was familiar, the voice was not.

Movement in the corner of her eye brought her out of the slight trance caused by swaying bodies and the now muted murmur of voices. The touch of Peter's hand wasn't an intrusion, rather a welcome addition, and the music was something they could share.

As expected, her mind churned up the last time she'd allowed a man under her defenses, all of them. Because the memories were painful and anger-inducing, Felicia stood, preparing to run for the nearest exit. But then, their eyes met, hers and Peter's, and she knew he would never do to her what Linc had done.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Felicia loosened the reins on the doubts and suspicions long held close, casting her thoughts out to join Peter's, knowing each would find the other waiting. She'd long ago become weary of being the person Linc had turned her into, while Peter had done the same. The only difference between them beyond the obvious was the nature of their personal tragedies.

Whereas Felicia's had been the result of being betrayed by one who'd professed undying love, Peter's had come from losing his parents and uncle at a young age. Analogous to betrayal with similar results. One plus three equaled four, but so did two plus two. Parallel paths that diverged in the woods, winding through the dark and light paths, eventually meeting when they needed it most.

On the dance floor, Peter cradled her hand in his warm palm and placed the other on her waist, leading her expertly around the floor as though he'd been born to dance. Together, they inhaled the words, and exhaled romance.

It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart
Without saying a word you can light up the dark
Try as I may I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me
A touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall
Now you say it best when you say nothing at all

All day long I can hear people talking out loud
but when you hold me near you drown out the crowd
Old Mister Webster could never define
what's being said between your heart and mine

The DJ segued into another slow song, this one unknown to Felicia as she looped her hands around Peter's neck and his came to rest on her waist. It brought out the memory of an incredible kiss on a rooftop at night, the moon overhead.

Was it too early in their relationship for making out? With only one intimate liaison that had ended in disaster under her belt to use as a reference, there was no way to tell. Best if they go at a pace that suited them both. Considering Peter's age, glacial would be best. Slow and easy, no fuss, no expectations. They had time and youth on their sides.

Peter's arms tightened fractionally, and when their eyes met, the subtle upward tilt of his lips spoke without him saying a word.

Now you say it best when you say nothing at all

The song ended on Peter leaning her back into a shallow dip and upright once more. Felicia slid her palm down the outside of his arm to take hold of his hand. "Let's get some air."

Darcy's Apartment

Upstate New York

Drying the last dish while Steve cleaned the sink, Darcy let her thoughts take flight, wondering what it would be like the first time they were intimate. Not just making out, but the whole enchilada. Dinner, dancing, moonlight stroll along the river, then back to here for tea and cookies, more kisses that eventually led to them spending the night exploring a new level of intimacy. She knew he wasn't a virgin, but he acted like one.

She put the dish away, hung the towel to dry, and picked up the kettle. Steve set two mugs on the counter and took the kettle. "You did all the cooking. Let me do this."

Resistance, as they say, is futile when the opposing force is Captain America, so she gave in without a fight. He turned to the sink and Darcy stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Thanks. You're the first guy I've dated who didn't expect to be waited on hand and foot just because they're a guest in my home."

"Why should you do all the work? If I didn't live at the compound, we'd be there. But you know how Tony is." He cleared his throat nervously, the cheek facing her taking on a light blush. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bring up our mutual headache."

"It's fine. Gonna take some getting used to, being Iron Man's daughter, even if the press never finds out," she reassured him, retrieving the canvass from the drawer. "You might want to show this to him. Though, if everything I've heard and read is true, he won't be as forgiving." One shoulder shrugged. "Or he'll forgive in such a way to make you feel even worse about keeping Mom's secret. Either way, he should know that you knew before we did." Steve's gaze met hers and she smiled to show there were no hard feelings. "You were making tea?"

"Oh, right," he tossed over his shoulder on the return trip to the sink. "What's next? Movie? Something on television? Charades?"

The vision in her head of playing charades with Steve was so absurd she laughed out loud. "I was thinking more along the lines of," Darcy turned on the light over the dining room table, blinking as her eyes adjusted, "cards or maybe a board game. While the water's heating, I'll see if I have something that might interest you."

Rather than tell him where everything was, Darcy waited to see if Steve remembered or could guess. Turning in a circle, forehead crinkled in thought, he opened the pantry, reached inside and came out with the tray and a box of cookies. Satisfied, she went to the closet in the hall and flicked the light on so she could peruse the games, choosing two. Then, she grabbed a third and a deck of cards, shut out the light, closed the door and carried it all to the table.

Viewpoint Hotel

Long Island City, New York

Junior/Senior Spring Fling Dance

Courtyard Fountain

Strolling through the courtyard, listening to the water splash in the fountain like small children at play, Peter reflected on the events that brought Felicia and he to this moment. Here, just the two of them, no others in sight, he just knew it was right.

As if they'd planned it in advance, they sat on the edge of the fountain together, their thighs touching. Courage, never a problem when in his Spider-Man persona, often deserted him when he need it most in his real life, but not tonight. Slanting his eyes to the side, he found Felicia watching him with that enigmatic smile, the one that seemed to say she knew all the answers, but wasn't telling. Or was daring him to get the information out of her.

One small braid had come loose and he used a finger to tuck it behind her ear as they leaned toward each other. Unlike before, there were no interruptions at the moment of truth.

Their lips touched, rubbing and gliding together so sweetly that Peter gasped when Felicia's tongue touched the crease, inviting him to join her in traversing the next level of intimacy. If he remembered right-by no means a certainty-French kissing was referred to as second base, to use a popular sports metaphor. He preferred the old fashioned "on cloud nine", "enraptured", or "enchanted". Felicia had cast a spell over him the day they met, making tonight not only inescapable, but necessary.

Peter lifted Felicia's hand where it lay on his thigh, pressing their palms together and interlacing their fingers. Pressure on his waist from her free hand brought a sense of familiarity, reminding him of another night.

Felicia gasped and pulled away abruptly, leaving Peter chilled with the loss of warmth, though their hands were still entwined. Without thought, the other palm still rested lightly on the side of her face, his thumb dangerously close to the corner of her mouth, which had parted, accompanied by her eyes nearly popping out of her head.

Her gaze darted over his features as if she'd never seen them before, breathlessly demanding, "What did you call me?"

While Peter wanted to believe that it was the kiss that made her gasp, something else was going on. One of them had to be delusional because he hadn't spoken out loud. Or had he? Focused on the sensations their kiss had aroused-whoops! Poor choice of words!-he couldn't remember for certain if he'd actually spoken.

The sound of her pulse speeding up vibrated through him. It brought him back to his senses, sort of. "Um… N-nothing," he stammered, wanting to say what she wanted to hear, but didn't know what that was.

They stood together, and Felicia put some distance between them, those lovely green eyes showing displeasure bordering on anger. She shook her head, knocking more hairs loose, and slashing the air with her hand. "You called me Cat. Why? Where did you hear that name?"

Peter opened and closed his mouth, but couldn't make a sound. Anything he might've said would've been a lie anyway.

~~O~~

Felicia's thoughts raced around inside her head like a hive of bees had been trapped and were fighting to get out, banging into each other, getting angrier by the moment. Tilting her head to one side, she let some of shock go at being caught off guard by Peter's whispered, "Cat…"

"Don't move," she told him breathlessly, berating herself for his effect on her that was more than shock. She slowly approached Peter, placing her hands over the upper half of his face, the index fingers and thumbs framing his eyes. "Spidey?"

TBC

Hungarian:

Hozhatok valami mást? = Can I get you anything else?

Nem köszönöm. = No, thank you.

"When You Say Nothing at All" is a country song written by Paul Overstreet and Don Schlitz. It was a hit song for three different performers: Keith Whitley, who took it to the top of the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart on December 24, 1988; Alison Krauss, whose version was her first solo top-10 country hit in 1995; and Irish pop singer Ronan Keating, whose version was his first solo single and a chart-topper in the United Kingdom, Ireland and New Zealand in 1999.

The author has always felt the song romantic. Silly her. ;-)