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.
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 79
Avengers Compound
Upstate New York
Taking a seat at the computer, Natasha placed the photo on the scanner. When the upload was complete, she typed instructions on the keyboard.
Before she'd finished, Friday greeted her, "Good evening, Agent Romanoff."
"You too, Friday," she responded without stopping.
"It would be more productive to give verbal instructions and allow me to carry out whatever searches you require."
Smiling to herself, Natasha leaned back in the chair. "One condition."
"And that is?"
Getting to her feet, Natasha paced around the hologrid, stopping on the opposite side. "You can't tell anyone what we're up to. Especially not Stark."
An electric green pixilated cloud appeared over the grid, constantly moving, sparks shooting out in all directions in a lazy design. "Agreed. Where shall we begin?"
Grinning, Natasha leaned against one of the tables, crossing her arms and ankles. "I'm so glad you asked. Do a full analysis of the photo that was just scanned. Also, get me everything on the family in the photo going back three generations and Dinah St. John and Klaus von Richthofen. They own and operate Evolve Academy for the Performing Arts in Joliet, Illinois. And I do mean everything. If they had their dog groomed, get the dates, times, the groomer's name, and the amount of the gratuity. If they ordered take-out, I want to know the delivery driver's name and what kind of car he or she drove. In other words start digging and don't stop till you get to China."
"I have a shovel ready and waiting, boss."
"Have the lab send over a nano mask too."
If Friday thought the request for background check odd, she didn't say. "Already done. The mask will be delivered by morning."
"I'll be in my quarters. Here's what I need you to do while I'm gone…"
~~O~~
In her suite of rooms, lush compared to those of the new recruits, Natasha removed her shoes and socks, setting them in the ensuite closet before stripping out of her clothes for a long hot shower to remove the grime of the day.
She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy towel, rubbing her hair with another on her way to the kitchen, where she poured a glass of wine.
The door chimed. Natasha sipped the wine on her way to admit her visitor, a young man who backed off a step at seeing her wearing only a towel, and doing a bad job of keeping his eyes on her face. He handed her a box and quickly departed.
Natasha carried the box to the closet, removed the towel, and tossed it in the bathroom, uncaring that it landed in the tub. She opened the box, removed the items inside, and put them on. Taking a seat at the vanity, she slipped her feet into the accompanying footwear, and tied the laces.
Going to the mirror, she studied her reflection. At one time, she had stated unequivocally that it would snow in Miami before she'd be caught dead in these garments again. She'd even refused missions for which wearing them was a requirement. If Clint were here, she'd have to endure laughter and sarcasm reminding her yet again to never say never, ever.
With her muscles limber from the hot shower, Natasha performed a warm-up routine she hadn't done in years. It was a reminder of another time, another life that she preferred stay in the past, but as Bruce once said, sometimes we don't always get what we want. But as they say, the past sometimes comes back to haunt you when you least expect it, though it shouldn't have come as a surprise as she had been trained to roll with the punches, to borrow another of Clint's idioms.
She gathered her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck, made minor adjustments to the clothing, and returned to the combination sitting/dining area. It only took a few minutes to move the small table and chairs out of the way to give her room to move, summoning skills she'd mastered at a young age and perfected through the years until she could perform each step precisely, earning her the praise that all children desire from their instructors. Now, those skills would serve a greater purpose.
"Friday, play Sleeping Beauty, Act 1, Aurora's Variation." Natasha closed her eyes as the music spun around her.
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
Taking care to avoid the board that creaked, Peter tiptoed to the bedroom door, eased it open, and leaned into the hall, listening for May, finding the apartment empty. He breathed a sigh of relief as he removed his mask, tossed it on the bed, and helped Felicia over the sill.
She closed the window while he darted across the hall and came back with fluffy towels, tossing one to her, and spreading a second one on the floor for her to stand on while he drew the curtains. Unlike his suit, hers wasn't water repellant and she was soaked and shivering.
While she dried off, Peter put the kettle on for hot cocoa, grabbed another towel, and joined her again. Felicia had her back to him, swiping the towel futilely over the material of her suit. Using the extra towel, he took the liberty of rubbing her hair. She didn't jump or lash out, and he took that as a sign that he had her trust, though to go by the wariness he'd sensed from her in the beginning, it wasn't unconditional. He wouldn't hold it against her. Trust had to be earned, and he wasn't sure if they'd come to that yet. You didn't have to trust someone fully to make out with them.
Peter pulled out two each of sweats, long sleeved t-shirts, and warm socks, tossing one set to her. "Get a hot shower and change. Cocoa'll be ready by the time you come out."
"Thanks. I'm freezing."
The bathroom door slammed on her last word, and he chuckled while changing. The kettle whistled at the same time the shower shut off, signaling Felicia's return. Peter rushed to silence the noise, adding hot water to the mugs he'd already prepared. He dropped a handful of marshmallows and a spoon in each, placed them on a tray with napkins, and carried it to the bedroom.
Peter found Felicia in front of the mirror twisting her hair into a braid. Their eyes met, hers with a twinkle of humor, which he returned. "Rain. The big mood killer," she said under her breath, knowing he would hear.
Feeling greatly daring, he set the tray on the desk and moved in to slip his arms around her from behind. She leaned against him in response, rubbing her palms over the backs of his hands. Quick as a cat-he grinned at the irony-she turned within the circle of his arms, and looped her hands around his neck, urging him to her another kiss.
They slowly eased apart and she smiled. "Or not," Felicia murmured before going back for more.
To keep things from getting out of hand, Peter stepped back. He took her hand and drew her to the side of the bed, passing her a cup of cocoa. She huddled into herself, still shivering. Belatedly, he went to the hall to turn up the heat and came back. "You were great tonight."
He felt her smugness through a shoulder bump. "That's a first. No one's ever described my kisses as 'great'. Not that there've been that many."
Grinning sheepishly, he stirred his drink, the spoon clinking against the sides. "No, I mean putting Wu and the rest in their place. Don't think I've ever seen her face turn that shade of red before."
Felicia didn't immediately respond though she stopped stirring her drink to clench his leg above the knee. "And…"
That single word stated flatly, reminded him what he'd just said. "Oh, uh, sorry. I-I thought you meant… I wasn't talking abou-"
She smoothed her palm over his knee to stop his rambling and he forgot to start again. "What were you saying?"
"Don't remember," he told her in all honesty.
With a playful smile, she said, "You have a little piece of marshmallow…" she touched the corner of her mouth.
~~O~~
Felicia held his hand when he reached for the napkin, murmuring under her breath, "Let me."
Peter's eyes widened then drifted shut as she used her tongue to remove the bit of marshmallow, turning it into another of those toe-curling kisses. For someone who'd never kissed a girl before, he learned fast.
She took his cup and set it on the bedside table next to hers while his hand lightly caressed her waist, giving it a small squeeze. So intense was the feeling that she didn't notice when his hands moved up to her shoulders, exerting just enough pressure to force them apart. His light blue eyes were now the color of storm clouds. His cheeks had turned an adorable shade of pink and he cleared his throat. "Um, Felicia…"
"Too much, too soon?" She voiced what her conscience was telling her.
"It-it's not that I don't, I mean it's, uh, yeah, it is, but there's something you should know…" Peter looked away while at the same time bringing her infinitesimally closer to stop her from leaving, which she had no intention of doing. "I-I've never… a-and it's not that I don't want to, 'cause I do. You see…"
As endearing as his adorable stuttering sounded, he needn't have bothered. She'd suspected as much at their first meeting in the school hallway. Their journey, however, had just begun. There was plenty of time for traveling to the next meeting of their separate paths. "No need to explain. You're not ready," she smiled to ease his nervousness, adding, "After all, one should learn to crawl before running a marathon." She leaned her forehead head against his. "What're we talkin' here? Strictly first base with the occasional advance to second?"
His eager smile was reflected in the mirror. "Um, only if you want to, that is."
For an answer, Felicia tilted her head to the side and joined their lips once more. The warmth of Peter's arm around her, leaving her chilled, but only for a moment. There was a click, and the bedside lamp went out. They weren't in total darkness. In the corner, the glow from a nightlight let them see each other's smiles then they were kissing once more.
Avengers Compound
Upstate New York
The last note of Aurora's Variation faded. Natasha stood in the middle of the floor, taking a moment to relive old memories before going to the kitchen, speaking to the air, "Friday, I'm headed back to the lab. Be ready to replay the recording I just made on the hologrid."
"Consider it done, Agent Romanoff."
While the water was heating, Natasha pulled clothes on over the leotard and tights, and replaced the ballet slippers with a pair of socks and sneakers, smiling to herself. Each item of clothing had been stolen from one of her male teammates. The sweatpants had been Clint's, the Metallica t-shirt was Tony's, and the hoodie had once been Steve's, and the reason it hung to the bottom of her thighs. The socks she'd taken from Bruce's basket of clean laundry, feigning ignorance when he questioned her about them. All four men had tried to get her to return their property, a situation when ended in epic failure. As yet, she hadn't found anything of Thor's to purloin, but it was only a matter of time.
One night, she casually strolled through the common area dressed as she was now. Not one of the guys said a word until they thought she was out of hearing range.
Thor: Natasha has once again stolen clothing from each of you, which she refuses to return. Why?
Bruce: She does it to establish dominance.
Tony: Well… it's working.
The kettle whistled and she rushed to silence it. She poured hot water over the tea strainer hung on the side of a jumbo sized reusable cup, put the cap on, and left the room.
~~O~~
In the lab, Natasha removed the tea strainer, dumped out the soggy tea leaves, and replaced the top. "I'm ready, Friday."
In response, a hologram appeared over the grid of herself dancing the part of Aurora from the first act of the ballet Sleeping Beauty. Sipping tea, she walked around the hologram, scrutinizing each arabesque, pirouette, plié, and fouetté rond de jambe en tournant.
Waving a hand, she stopped the playback and zoomed in to better see her foot positions during a crucial moment. "Friday?"
"Here, boss."
She turned the nearest chair around and dropped into it. "Analyze the video for errors and highlight them."
The recording returned to the beginning and fast forwarded to the end. Natasha was about to prod Friday for an answer when the hologram disappeared, replaced by another that had nothing to do with ballet. A moment later, she heard the lift doors open, followed by footsteps she identified as Steve's.
He entered the open lab door, stopping on the opposite side, his blue eyes peering at her curiously for a few heartbeats, forehead crinkled in thought. "I knocked on your door, but there was no answer."
Natasha saluted him with the cup and a smirk, "I'm not home."
His thoughtful stare turned into a scowl. "I figured. Friday told me where to find you."
"What's up?" she murmured into the cup as she brought it to her lips for a long drink, giving off an air of boredom.
"Got a call from Dr. Bennett. Wants to see Peter tomorrow." His eyes narrowed and he pointed. "Is that my jacket?"
Running a hand down the material, Natasha squinted in pretend confusion, "Found it in my closet. Since we're not living or sleeping together, it must be mine."
"Looks just like the one I lost a few weeks ago," Steve said to her retreating back, rushing to catch up, aiming a thumb over his shoulder. "What were you doing in the lab? Where's Tony?"
"Confidential. Me in the lab. Not Stark's location, which I don't know." She hit the button for the residential floor. "Why?"
Steve shrugged his broad shoulders, and Natasha held in a sigh. If things had been different… But they weren't. She and Steve had their chance and it slipped away when he fell for Hill and she went on a one woman crusade to save the Winter Soldier, a man who'd shot her twice, and that she'd almost killed with a rocket launcher during their D.C. fight. In her mind, but not, apparently, in Bucky's, it made them even.
A memory flitted just out of reach and a shimmy of an unidentifiable emotion skimmed along her nerves. She clenched her free hand behind her back to keep from lashing out at Steve simply because he was a convenient target.
"Curious," he reminded her. "Dr. Bennett wants to see Peter ASAP. You coming?"
"Not this time, though it's on a future agenda," she agreed and disagreed at the same time. "I'm concerned about the boy, of course-we have an understanding-but I have a previous engagement."
A hard edge had crept into her voice and Steve shot a glance her way as the lift doors opened. They got out and turned in the direction of the apartments. "Want to share?"
"Not yet. Still needs tweaking." They reached her door and he stopped with her, waiting to hear the rest. "Can't go into detail except to say that I may gone a while.
"How…" Natasha unzipped the hoodie, bringing Steve's attention to what she wore underneath. He pointed at the faded Metallica t-shirt, eyebrows drawn together over his nose, "Is that Stark's?"
Her door opened and she stepped inside. "You've never struck me as a fashion-forward kinda guy, Steve. Why're you suddenly so interested in what I'm wearing?"
His gaze slid away and hands slipped into his pants pockets. "Forget it. I'll call Peter in the morning to see what time works best for him. If you change your mind…"
"I won't. 'Night," Natasha winked, grinned, and the door closed between them. The grin faded the moment she was out of Steve's sight. "Friday, how's the research coming?"
"Completed and sent to your computer, Agent Romanoff."
Natasha tossed the hoodie in a chair and turned on the computer. While that worked, she changed into pajamas, filled the kettle again, and went into the bathroom to take her hair down and wash her face.
By the time the computer was up and running, the kettle whistled. She made more tea and carried it to the desk. Once she was seated, she called up the information, set on spending the greater part of the night wading through mostly gold to find the bits of crap hidden within and removing it.
To Natasha's surprise and delight, Friday had sorted the information in order of importance according to her own set of rules. From a quick scan, Friday's priorities were in line with hers. Great minds. "While I'm working on this, I need you to locate no fewer than ten videos focused on a specific person." She gave Friday the name.
"You got it, boss."
Once Natasha had the details sorted out, she made one more call. "Hey, partner. Apologize to the fam on my behalf for calling so late. I'm headed out and need back-up. Can do?"
Clint sighed into the phone, "Ex-partner, and I'm retired, remember? Turned in my badge and service weapon weeks ago. Too bad SHIELD crashed and burned, and took my pension with it."
"Look, Clint, I need someone I trust to have my back on this. Full disclosure: it's not sanctioned by any alphabet agency, government or private, including the Avengers." She waited a few beats and found bait with which to reel him in. "You'd be helping me stick it to 'The Man', one from my past for whom we both have scorn, contempt, and outright hatred."
"By 'stick it' you mean…"
She had him by the short and curlies. All she had to do was launch the coup de gras. "Revenge, Hawkeye." Even over the phone she could hear the wheels spinning in his head, and gave them another push, "Sending low-lifes to prison. If they resist, you might even get to shoot someone." Ah, his interest is piqued, she thought smugly. "Maybe two, if we're lucky."
He chuckled over the creak of the leather recliner in the corner of the living room as he made himself comfortable. "Sounds like Warsaw all over again. Of course I'm in. When and where?"
"I'll text time and pick-up location. By the way, how's your 'dad' mojo?"
Clint snorted, and in the background, she heard the rasp of a zipper as he packed. "Lame to stellar, depending on whom you ask and when. Why?"
"There's a new recruit on the horizon. He's relatively new to the superhero business and could use a few words of fatherly advice on a variety of subjects. That is if you can get past his Mama Bear."
The footrest of the recliner went down and the light tread of his footsteps tracked across the wood floor, through the kitchen, and out the back door. Natasha's mind's eye pictured Clint sitting on the wood pile, legs splayed in the man-spreading position, a half-smirk on his face. "No prob. I'll just hit Mom with the ol' Barton charm. She'll be putty in my hands. Metaphorically speaking."
"One more thing. You'll need a disguise. I'll have Friday forward the particulars. Work out the best AKA and clue me in."
"Done and done."
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
The bathroom light went out and Felicia tip-toed back to Peter's room, softly closing the door. The plan had been for her to brush her teeth, comb her hair that had looked like a rat's nest by the time they took a break from making out, and for Peter to walk her to the subway. However, he was out for the count, lying on his side facing the door. She thought through the ramifications for both of them if she were to give in to temptation and lay down with him, more for company, to feel another warm, compassionate, kind body nearby than as a precursor to sex.
The self-recriminations pay for almost leading a fifteen-year-old down the same path she'd taken would likely keep her awake for a while. Though, to be fair, Peter hadn't coerced her into having sex with him, nor had she done it to him. She'd been more than willing to go along with anything that didn't take him outside his comfort zone or clash with his personal code, agenda, whatever he called it. He'd turned her down and she respected his choice. Unlike Linc, when Peter said "no", she hadn't heard "convince me". It was just as well. Relationships get messy when sex enters the scene.
Their mixed bag of relationships, schoolmates, a dating couple, and as Cat and Spidey, each came with their own set of advantages, disadvantages, and, yeah, complications. Yet the one thing they all had in common was respect for the other's principles, even if they diverged at that proverbial fork in the road. Where Peter worked on the side of the law, Felicia, in her alter ego as Black Cat, broke the law on a daily basis. No, broke wasn't the right analogy. Fractured, fragmented, shattered, and mangled were better descriptions of her nighttime activities. To the outside observer, i.e. the police, costumed superheroes, et cetera, it would appear she operated under the assumption that the rules didn't apply to her. They did, but she chose to ignore them much of the time.
Her motivation didn't matter. The law wouldn't care that she'd been living in an abandoned building since just after she turned sixteen because her foster family had kicked her out.
She'd gotten revenge for their ill treatment, and it had been sweet, for a while. The problem with vengeance was, served hot or cold, it always left a bitter aftertaste. Nevertheless, you did what you had to in order to not just survive, to thrive day to day. It was true what they said about discipline being defined as doing the things you don't want to do so you can do what you really want to do. She didn't want to follow in her father's footsteps, but being a thief was all she knew, having grown up with one.
Gathering her Cat suit and mask, she shoved them into a plastic bag she'd taken from under the bathroom sink and tied it closed then put on the boots so she wouldn't have to go home barefoot. Leaving the way they came in wasn't impossible, just exceedingly difficult without his help. She'd have to risk going out the front door.
Felicia found a pad and pen to write Peter a short note, which she placed on the bedside table, propped against the lamp. She sat on the edge of the mattress, brushing the hair off his forehead. Faster than she'd ever seen him move, he grabbed her hand and wouldn't let go.
In a romantic comedy, the female lead in this situation would willingly surrender to lying next to the male lead for some non-sexual snuggling. A man who was naturally the one she was destined to love for all eternity. But this was real life, not a rom-com, and they were too young to be thinking about forever. Sex was one thing. Falling in love, getting married, and starting a family, with a house and pets, and mundane jobs was a whole new ballgame neither of them was ready for yet. Maybe after they'd both graduated college they could talk about it. Or not. Who knew if they would even last to the end of the school year. Next fall, she was headed off to college. Even with her extracurricular activities feathering her nest, she could barely afford the community college.
Using a lock of hair, Felicia tickled his nose. He let go and rolled onto his other side. She pulled the covers up to his shoulders, picked up the bag, and made her way through the apartment to the front room. As on her previous visits, a basket sat in the armchair. Remembering Spidey's offer to teach her to knit, crochet, and do needlepoint, she realized now that he'd given her a clue to his identity that she hadn't caught.
Felicia let herself out into the hall and closed the door, making sure it was locked. The elevator was already on its way up. As it was well after midnight, it could very well be his aunt coming home from her date.
To keep from being seen, Felicia ducked into the stairwell. Peeking through the crack, she saw May and Sam exit the elevator. Sam opened the door with May's key, handed it back, leaned down for one last nearly chaste kiss, and turned toward the stairs. She darted silently up to the next landing, crouching in the darkness where the light was out, waiting until she was sure Sam was gone before heading down herself.
At the main entrance, Felicia scoped out the immediate area through the blinds, but didn't see Sam or the car he'd arrived in the night the four of them had dinner together. Still, she waited another five minutes before slipping out and sprinting to the subway entrance, not breathing easy until the doors shut and the train pulled out of the station.
~~O~~
As soon as the door closed, May kicked off her low-heeled pumps and carried them to her room. She hung up her jacket and pulled out pajamas.
Standing at the window to take off her jewelry, she surveyed the darkened landscape of New York. Like this, everything appeared deceptively calm and serene and without scars. Still, it was home, and they didn't call it the city that never sleeps for nothing.
Movement on the sidewalk below caught her eye. Felicia had just come out the building's front entrance, looked around, and jogged in the direction of the subway. Unable to keep from speculating as to why the girl was just now leaving when it was so late, or why she was wearing Peter's clothes, May finished changing, pulled on warm socks then padded down the hall to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.
Upon coming out, she listened at Peter's door, expecting him to still be awake. She rapped lightly and got no response. Taking a deep breath, she quietly opened the door a crack. Her nephew lay in the middle of the bed, facing away from the door, covers pulled up to his neck. Using one finger, she lifted them a few inches, relieved to see he was wearing pajamas.
The note leaning on the lamp caught her eye. Curiosity and mother's instinct to protect led her to invade her nephew's privacy. The way the note was worded could have more than one meaning.
Also on the nightstand were two cups that contained the remnants of hot chocolate. May glanced around for more clues. A towel lay on the floor in front of the window. Not much help there until she recalled the damp towels hanging over the shower bar that had been clean, dry, and neatly hung on the towel bars when Sam picked her up for their date. It also reminded her of the empty toothbrush package in the trash. Peter wouldn't have needed it because he'd just replaced his a few days earlier.
She didn't like the path her thoughts had taken. Best to wait until they both had a good night's rest.
Speaking of dating and all the intimate details that went along with it… May returned to her room after first closing Peter's door. She already knew he was uncomfortable with her and Sam dating and likely knew or just suspected that they were sleeping together as well. As good as it felt having a man to spend time with she didn't want to burden the boy unnecessarily. He had so much on his mind at the moment, why add to it? Yes, she liked Sam very much, but was it enough on which to building a lasting relationship? Unlikely. Sam was an Avenger and that alone made him a target for every hoodlum and supervillain in this and other worlds. The bad guys could use her and Peter as leverage, and May didn't want Sam to bear that burden any more than she wanted it to happen for Peter.
The next time she saw Sam, May would end their relationship. It had been fun while it lasted, but she had to let him go before they were in too deep. She chuckled to herself. Maybe they could make this a friends with benefits thing. No deep emotional ties. Keep it casual with the occasional hot and sweaty encounter.
Her mind made up, May set the alarm. She lay down, pulled the covers over her, shut out the light, and lay there for a while thinking.
Avengers Compound
Upstate New York
Natasha packed everything she'd need for the op while awaiting Clint's arrival. The signal came sooner than expected, but then it was better to arrive at their destination a little early.
The first order of business was to find a place near the target from which to observe and record the daily activities to establish a routine. That would determine the optimum day and time to commence with the infiltration. Using Stark tech, they would hack into the security systems, giving them eyes and ears on the prize.
The nano mask, or photostatic veil, would get her in and her talent for ballet would see to it that she wouldn't be found out until she was ready to lower the hammer on Dinah and Klaus's operation. Natasha had her suspicions as to what they were up to, but needed proof. Lacking that, she'd see to it that no one would ever hire them again, not even to entertain at wedding, birthday parties, or mitzvahs.
Friday's research had yielded gold in the form of Klaus von Richthofen true family history, once you knew where to look. His father had claimed to be the nephew of the Red Baron, Manfred von Richthofen, when in reality, his family was descended from Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler, a leading member of the Nazi party during World War II. Not that Natasha blamed Klaus's ancestors for obscuring their roots, when one took into consideration the fact that Himmler had been responsible for the deaths of an estimated fourteen million people.
Dinah was much easier to trace due to her notoriety as a prima ballerina with The Maria Montenegro Ballet Royale Madrid. Natasha had been in the audience with three thousand other balletomanes when Dinah had suffered a career ending injury. At the time, Natasha had mourned the loss of a breathtaking talent.
But that was the past. Here and now, Dinah and Klaus could be working for one of several clandestine organizations, among them HYDRA, the KGB, SPECTRE, the League of Assassins, or even KAOS. They had to be stopped before more children were taken down the same path as herself and ended up paying for their sins with their souls. Ending the machinations of Dinah and her ilk would be one more step in wiping out the red from her ledger.
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
Beep-beep-beep! Beep-beep-beep! Beep-beep-beep!
Peter dragged his consciousness from the depths of a dream he couldn't remember to silence the alarm, but the damn thing kept beeping. Feeling around didn't help except to knock over other objects where his phone usually lay.
He sat up on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes, yawning, and scratching his chest. One eye opened then the other, both squinting at his open bedroom door. Yawning again, he stumbled over to see if May was up, but her door was closed.
The alarm quit at the same time he shut the door. Groaning and stretching, Peter turned around, and stopped, eyes wide. A sliver of guilt tickled the back of his brain at seeing May holding his phone. "Oh, hey. Morning. Um, w-what's up?"
He'd seen that look on her face before and dreaded it even more now than in the past. It was the expression all moms used before asking difficult questions to which they already knew the answers, or thought they did, but wanted to hear it for themselves. And if you lied, they'd know.
She glanced at the phone then held it up to show a photo taken at an odd angle, meaning it had been snapped by mistake. It was of Peter and Felicia kissing as if they'd never stop.
"Guess I don't need to ask if you had a good time last night, Peter. Maybe too good."
TBC
The Sleeping Beauty is a ballet in a prologue and three acts, first performed in 1890. The music was composed by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (his opus 66). The score was completed in 1889, and is the second of his three ballets. The original scenario was conceived by Ivan Vsevolozhsky, and is based on Charles Perrault's La Belle au bois dormant. The choreographer of the original production was Marius Petipa.
The premiere performance took place at the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg on January 15, 1890. The work has become one of the classical repertoire's most famous ballets.
The ballet terms were found online. If they aren't correct, please DM and they will be corrected.
Merci
SPECTRE (Special Executive for Counterintelligence, Terrorism, Revenge, and Extortion) is a fictional organization featured in the James Bond novels by Ian Fleming, the films based on those novels, and James Bond video games. Led by evil genius and supervillain Ernst Stavro Blofeld, the international organization first formally appeared in the novel Thunderball (1961) and in the film Dr. No (1962). SPECTRE is not aligned to any nation or political ideology, enabling the later Bond books and Bond films to be regarded as somewhat apolitical, though the presence of former Gestapo members in the organization are a clear sign of Fleming's warning of the Nazi fascists surviving after the Second World War first detailed in the novel Moonraker (1954). SPECTRE began in the novels as a small group of criminals, but became a vast international organization with its own SPECTRE Island training base in the films, to replace the Soviet SMERSH.
The League of Assassins (renamed the League of Shadows or Society of Shadows in adapted works) is a group of fictional villains appearing in comic books published by DC Comics. The group is depicted as a collective of assassins who work for Ra's al Ghul, an enemy of the superhero Batman and the Green Arrow.
The League of Assassins has been adapted into other media several times, predominantly in animated Batman productions, the live-action Batman film series The Dark Knight Trilogy, as well as the CW TV show Arrow, and the Fox TV show Gotham.
KAOS is a fictional "international organization of evil" formed in Bucharest, Romania, in 1904. Like "CONTROL", "KAOS" is not an acronym. Brooks and Henry originally wanted the letters to stand for an organizational title but, busy with production duties, they never sketched one in. In a series episode, after making a series of demands in a recording, the speaker mentions that the demands are from "KAOS, a Delaware corporation". When Smart asks the Chief about this, he mentions they did it for tax reasons.