I'M BACK, BITCHES.
And because you've all been good boys and girls and because I was a bit bored at work you get a new chapter. Rejoice!
Max wasn't sure what she had expected but it wasn't this. Peter had come by her apartment at around eight o'clock to pick her up even if he didn't have a car. He came armed with coffee, not the most romantic of notions but sweet nonetheless.
"You look pretty," Peter said when Max opened the door to apartment 17A in pair of somewhat dressy jeans (meaning they were dark wash) and, in the last ditch effort to be girlier, a dark green box top with sequins. Her hair wasn't anything special, just down like normal, but she had at least run a brush through it. You knew things were getting serious if Maximum Ride breaks out beauty tools.
"Hello to you too," Max said, thrown off of her game by the compliment. She then turned to the space behind her door and rummaged with one hand. "Let me get my coat."
"You might want to get a scarf and some gloves, too," Peter said, indicating his own Fair Isle scarf that Aunt May had knitted him for last Christmas.
"Is it going to be cold where we're going?"
"Why do you think I brought coffee?" Peter answered, handing Max one of the cups.
"'Cos you're sweet, that's why." Max ruffled Peter's hair and took the coffee from him. She grabbed her keys from the dish next to the door and locked the apartment behind her. "Shall we?"
Peter offered up his arm and Max took it, looping her arm through his. "We shall."
The walk to the park wasn't very far, but the sun was down and the sparkling Christmas lights of overly eager beavers wanting to get into the holiday spirit were twinkling in the birches, oaks, and maples that dotted the green expanse of rolling hills and playgrounds. The metal railings and pathways were slick with condensation, steam billowing from the small smokestacks of the fast food vendors.
"Can we have hot dogs?" Max asked, angling her body towards the closest hot dog cart.
"That's what you want to eat?" Peter asked, skeptical.
"I'm a cheap date." Max shrugged, dragging him there along with her. "C'mon."
The cart might have once been white but was now a sort of dingy grey with yellow stripes and an old fashioned logo, attempting the more festive circus route decoration-wise. A man whose jowls were sagging as much as the yellow awning gave them a tired look that spoke volumes that mostly read I should have retired years ago.
Peter scanned the menu tacked to one of the open doors. "How many do you want?"
"Seven," Max decided.
"Seven?" Peter asked.
"Three with chili, one with relish, two with mustard, and another with ketchup," she said pensively as the old man wrote her order down. "Yes, I think that's it."
"I'll have three, all ketchup." Peter reached for his wallet as the man tallied up the cost.
"Hey, I'll get this one," Max said.
"Oh no you don't," Peter counted out twenty dollars and handed them over Max's head, who reached to drag his arm down.
"Yes, I'm going to pay for mine, Peter," Max stared at him firmly.
"This is a date, which means the guy pays and in this case, I believe the guy is me." Peter handed over the twenty dollars and the man nodded gruffly, beginning to pile the toppings on their hotdogs and put them into boxes.
"How sexist of you." Max crossed her arms.
"I think you meant 'how wonderful of you to buy me dinner, Peter, you're the best, Peter!'"
Max rolled her eyes and shot him a look that lost its effectiveness when a smile crept up on her face instead. "Free food is good food."
"Exactly." Peter grabbed the hot dogs and said thank you before they walked on, finding a spot on a bench a few yards down. He handed Max's hot dogs over to her and she immediately dug in, devouring all seven before Peter had finished two of his.
"There must be something in the water that makes these things so good." Max licked a drop of ketchup off of her upper lip and crumpled the paper that held her seventh hot dog into a ball, shooting it into the bin a yard or so away.
"Seven's quite a feat. Should I be disgusted or give you a trophy?" Peter asked, amused.
"I've handled both." Max shrugged. "But three is just as honorable. You tried your best!"
"Where do you even put it all? You're so tiny!" Peter exclaimed.
"Speak for yourself, dude. I could pick you up one handed!" Max teased.
"I'd like to see you try," Peter replied.
"Challenge accepted!"
Max shot forwards and grabbed Peter around the middle, but Peter was quicker and twisted her grip around, holding her upside down instead. She shrieked in surprise and tried to wriggle out of his grasp.
"Put me down!" Her voice was breathless with laughter. "I swear, Peter-"
He flipped her back up and lifted her above his head Dirty Dancing-style. "I win!" He grinned.
"This isn't one-handed," Max pointed out.
"Fine," Peter adjusted his hands and put his right one flat on her stomach, holding her up with only one arm. He lowered her and then threw her up into the air, catching Max as she came back down with an easygoing smile and a protective hand behind her shoulders and underneath her legs. The force knocked him back onto the bench, sliding Max into his lap.
Their eyes connected, sparkling brown to glittering blue. "Nice moves," Max whispered, the air knocked out of her.
The intensity of the stare increased until it felt like they were the only people in the world and the innocent bystanders were just lawn decorations. Ever polite, Peter said distractedly, "Thanks." A few tension-filled seconds passed before he leaned up, connecting his lips to hers softly and then pulling back when she didn't kiss back.
"Was that okay?" Peter asked. "Because if it wasn't we could just forget-"
"No, no…" Max said, bewildered but pulling him by the collar to do it again. "Kissing's good. Kissing's great. More."
And the lawn decorations never suspected a thing.
"What's got you so chipper?" Tony asked, flicking Max on the head with Robotic Engineering Quarterly as she lounged on their living room couch that Thursday evening, a makeup day for the dinner she missed the night before.
"Life is... great, you know?" Max grinned and giggled like a madman. "Everything is just... just... great."
"Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?" Tony stooped down and examined her closely, his nose bumping into hers.
"Oh dad," Max chuckled, patting him on his cheek.
"What drugs did you sneak from the lab?" He asked.
"I didn't steal any drugs," Max said.
"Did you break into my liquor cabinet?" Tony continued.
"No." She shook her head. "Besides, you don't exactly keep that locked."
"Touche, touche..." he said, stroking his beard. "Oh! I remembered why I came over here. We've got a gala to attend next month."
Max wrinkled her nose. "What's this one about?"
"Dedication of the superhero memorial bridge." Tony sat down on the couch next to her.
"Seriously?" Max groaned. "How many bridges do we need? What exactly does the city think that's going to accomplish? Metaphors aren't exactly high on our Christmas list. Besides, we can just fly over them!"
"Doesn't matter," Tony cracked his gum. "All the heavy hitters will be there, though. Me, Cap, Bruce, Thor, Captain Hammer, a few X-Men, some academy students who've saved the city, all that jazz. And you have a date."
"A date?" Max rolled the word around in her mouth, not liking the taste when she came to the conclusion that it wouldn't be Peter.
"It's just a favour to an old business contact at Worthington Industries," Tony said. "His name is Warren, he's a few years older than you and doesn't want to be there any more than you do."
"Mutation?" Max asked, none too pleased.
"He's one of the X-Men," he replied. "I'm not too sure on the details, but the press would just wonder where your date was if you didn't bring one, so Warren solves it."
"An X-Men, huh?" Max thought it over. "Okay, sure, I'll play nice, but I'm ditching him after half an hour."
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Tony grabbed Max's head and planted a kiss on the part in her hair. "Dinner's ready. Go wash up."
For Max and Peter, the only thing worse than trying to keep their relationship a secret from her parents was trying to meet up again. It rarely happened due to busy schedules and the exuberance of criminals demanding their attention, so when Max called Peter a few days later he was walking through the sewers, on the hunt after an escaped robber.
"Hey Max, what's up?" Peter asked, holding his cell phone up to his spidey suit covered ear.
"There's a concert in Chelsea on Friday, the Fratellis," Max said. "I was wondering if you wanted to go?"
"Sure, that'd be great," Peter said, sensing the shadow of the robber a little ways ahead. "But, uh, I'm going to have to call you back, okay Max?"
"Cool, see you then," Max hung up, resisting the fangirl shriek that was bubbling up in her throat, threatening to wake all of the inhabitants of her apartment building.
However, that Friday night SHIELD received a lead on another not-so-masterful mind that they had on file for a while and wanted to be taken in.
"Shit," Max cursed as the culprit threw a knife at her and she dodged it just in time, the blade slicing off a chunk of her hair. She ducked underneath a girder in the abandoned warehouse where the villain had set up camp, checking her watch. It read 6:00pm. She scrambled up a level, following the bright yellow backpack of the guy.
He jumped down an old elevator shaft to the first floor, having Max trapped in the cramped catwalk of a ceiling without room to spread her wings. She cursed again when she felt her phone vibrate in her jean pockets.
"Hey," came Peter's voice when she answered. "Can you text me the adress or something so I can meet you there?"
"Uh," Max tracked the escapee down and slithered through the steel bars after him, dropping down onto the warehouse floor amidst beakers and test tubes. "Sure. I might be a little late..."
She dashed after the bright yellow backpack crusader, trying to grab onto the top handle as he ran out one of the side windows. He dropped down into a garbage truck as it drove by. Max deflated, knowing full well that she'd have to go after him. "Scratch that. I'm going to have to cancel."
"Really?" Peter sounded disappointed and confused. "Uhm, well, okay."
"We can do something tomorrow, though," Max tacked on. "Maybe lunch?"
"Of course," Peter replied. "Bye Max."
"Bye Peter." Max ended the call and flew out after her target.
But, true to form, they didn't go out again that day or the next. Spider-man helped defeat a carjacker, Maximum Ride brought in that rogue scientist, but Peter Parker and Max did not go on a date and wouldn't for a while.
Is this news of a gala I hear? Not the grand galloping gala, of course, but something similar. I was going to make it the gala at the Met, but that doesn't account for the large amount of supers hanging around.
And the question of the day is...
From what is the superhero memorial bridge dedication ceremony taken from? There's a hint in the guest list!
-Acca