Welcome back! In this chapter, things heat up a bit more in every aspect of the plot. Peter and Max get a bit more fluff and flirty-flirty times, trouble begins to brew on the subway system, and Max meets a peculiar homeless man who I've decided shall be played by Morgan Freeman.
See if you can spot the Batman reference!
There was a knock. Peter opened the door.
"I've got gummy worms!" Max stood on his front stoop at 11 am on a Saturday, her umbrella resting up against the brick of his house as the rain pitter-pattered in the gutter. She was holding up a one pound bag of neon green and pink sour gummy worms with a smile.
"Perfect," Peter took the bag from her, kissed her on the cheek, and let her inside the house. "Let the hang out day begin."
She took her coat off, placing it on the rack with her gloves and kicked off her boots before jumping onto the couch, making herself right at home. Max picked the tv remote up and turned it on, flipping through the channels while Peter went into the kitchen to get the rest of the food.
"There's a Friends marathon on channel forty two," Max called back to him, looking through the guide.
"That's good with me if it's good with you," Peter replied, juggling five or six containers of sweets in his two arms as he exited the kitchen.
"Need any help?" Max asked, eyeing the tupperware of pretzels as it tottered on his elbow.
"Nah, I'm good." Peter walked slowly towards the coffee table. He put down everything on his left arm and was beginning to take down the things on his right when the pretzel container finally lost its footing and began to fall. But with incredible speed, Peter snatched it from a fate worse than death on the hardwood flooring, not a single pretzel spilled.
"Wow," Max's eyes widened. "You have really good reflexes."
"I don't like to brag," Peter began. "But photography is only my day job. I'm actually a ninja."
She rolled her eyes.
"Okay, so we've got Skittles, pretzels, mini marshmallows, chex mix, and gummy worms." Peter gestures to all of the food. "Dig in."
Another Friends episode started as Max reached for a day-glo gummy worm and took a bite, settling back into the sofa. Aunt May came down the stairs, grabbing her keys, and opening the door.
"Bye, you two," she popped her head back into the foyer. "I'm going to work."
"Bye Aunt May," Max and Peter said in unison. The door closed.
"Alone at last..." Peter stretched his arms slowly and put one around Max's shoulders.
"Smooth," she complimented teasingly, offering up a worm. "Gummy worm?"
"Definitely." Peter reached down and took a bite from the worm in her hand, his lips grazing her open palm. "Skittle?" He held up a piece of the multi-coloured candy.
"Of course," she said and he threw it. She caught it deftly in her mouth.
"You are very talented." Peter smiled, kissing her lightly on the lips.
She was going to reply with something witty and clever, but then she saw a deep purple bruise that extended out from the neckline of Peter's purple t-shirt. "What's that from?"
"Oh, nothing." He admonished.
"It looks serious," Max said, running her fingers over it. Peter winced, but covered it up quickly.
"I'm fine," he reassured firmly.
Max was suspicious but she let the matter drop and curled up into Peter's arm, her legs bent beside her as they began to watch television. After a few episodes she shifted positions, lying with her head in Peter's lap and her feet propped up on the couch's armrest. During a commercial break they began to play a lazy hand game whilst asking each other questions.
"First pet?" She asked, slapping his left hand with her right.
"Dog. Favourite movie?" Peter's right hand collided with her left.
"The Terminator. Hobbie?" Max continued to pummel Peter in patty cake.
"Saving the world. You?"
A slow smile crept up on her face. "Same."
"Know any other games?" Peter asked. Patty cake was beginning to get a bit dull. "Mary Mack?"
Max shook her head no.
"You've never learned Miss Mary Mack?" Peter gasped in overdramatic outrage. "Sit up, let me teach you."
Max got up off of his lap and sat crossed legged on the cushions facing him. "Okay sensei, what should I do first? Wax on or wax off?"
"First you put your hands like this." He positioned her palms so one was facing up and the other down. He hit her hands with his own. "Then you switch them like so." He demonstrated and she followed. "Then you..." He acted as if he was adjusting her wrists but interlaced their fingers instead, pulling her close for a kiss.
"No fair," Max murmured, her nose brushing against his.
"It's not a competition," Peter replied between kisses.
"If it was, I'd win." A smile spread across Max's lips.
"We'll see about that." Peter pounced and they melted into a playful fervor of kisses, whispers, and gummy worms.
Max had to leave mid-makeout session when her phone began to ring.
Bzzt! Bzzt!
"Is that yours?" Peter panted as they came up for air. The screen of her phone was flashing 'The Snarkster.'
Max groaned, feeling about for the square piece of metal and answering the call. Her chin was resting on Peter's sternum.
"Yeah?" Max asked. "Uh-huh...yep...got it. Be right there."
"Family thing to work?" Peter asked, naming the two top excuses she'd been using for the past week.
"A little bit of both."
Peter leaned up and kissed her, but she pulled away with a shake of her head. She slipped off of the couch. "If we start again I won't be able to stop."
"Then don't." Peter grabbed her hand and played with her fingers lazily like a petulant child. "Today was supposed to be our day."
"And it was perfect." She pecked him on the forehead. "But I have to go."
"You show more self restraint than I do." Peter watched her pull on her boots and slip her phone into her pocket. He got up off of the sofa.
"I've had more practise." She buttoned her coat. He came up and put his hands on her waist, coaxing her into a nice, long, slow kiss before opening the door for her.
"Bye, Max," he said.
"I'll call you later," she replied, taking her umbrella and going out into the rain.
It was particularly dreary outside. The clouds were low and oppressively dark, sparking with thunder and lightning. Rain came down in sheets, soaking Max's ankles despite the umbrella. The subway was no better.
Tiles were slick, causing many pedestrian collisions and backing up the trains by five minutes, which was positively scandalous. The train that Max had to take was crowded but short and she got off to change to another a few stops down.
She walked past a newspaper and tabloid magazine peddler. To her right, a few disable homeless people sat begging for a spare quarter. Max dug into her pocket for some change and gave it to a man who held up a sign explaining that he had lost his home and family in the chitauri invasion. She always liked to give money to chitauri survivors, even though she hadn't been there for the attack.
"Thank you kindly, ma'am," the old man said. His beard was a grizzled grey and his skin a light chocolate with a smattering of freckles.
"Just doing my job," Max said with a nostalgic glance. He reminded her of when she was on the run, deserted by the Flock with no chance of survival. "Are you hungry?" she asked with a sad smile. "I could get you something to eat if you like."
"Oh no," the old man said. "You don't have to do that."
"It's bad subway station food, but it's better than nothing." She helped him to his feet. "Do you like bagels?"
They walked to the cheap deli set into the wall. Boxed lunches sat in a refrigerator in front of a small counter with bottles of iced tea and water.
"Ah, a ham sandwich will do just fine," he said hesitantly.
Max chose two ham sandwiches and some water, paying for the lunch with a twenty dollar bill. She cleared off a table and set the sandwich down for the man as he sat down in his chair with creaking limbs.
"Oh, where have my manners gone? My name is Fawkes." His smile created ridges of wrinkles at the outer edges of his eyes.
"Mine is Maximum, sir," she said.
"Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Maximum." He held out his hand and she shook it. "Nice handshake you've got there."
"My father taught me well," was all she said in reply. She gestured to the ham sandwich. "Eat."
"Thank you so much for this, ma'am," he said sincerely, unwrapping the plastic on the sandwich. "And I should've learned in the past not to question the good acts of others, but why?"
Max sipped some water and thought about it for a second. "My family helped to fight the chitauri and since they aren't exactly the best at cleaning up their own messes, I'm guessing they're the reason you're homeless."
"Ah, so you're the famous Stark-Rogers daughter," Fawkes said, realization dawning in his tawny eyes.
"I'm not famous," Max said hastily, glad that he hadn't mentioned her wings. They were of such widespread importance when she was adopted three years ago that it was incredibly embarrassing.
"Don't be ashamed by honor, Maximum," he said solemnly. "It will only bring power to your enemies."
His voice sounded familiar. "What did you do before the invasion?"
"I was a scientist and engineer." He bit into his sandwich.
"And the lab fired you after you lost your home?" Max's brow furrowed.
"The lab was my home," he said. "All of my work is lost now."
"I'm sorry," Max said. She caught the time from a clock on the opposite wall. "But I'm going to have jet. My train is about to leave."
"What about your food?" he asked, gesturing to her unopened sandwich and leftover water.
"Keep them," Max said, nudging them across the table and standing from her chair. "You don't deserve to go hungry."
"Thank you. Oh and Maximum?" he said, catching her right as she was about to cross the threshold of the deli. "Things are always better than they seem. Keep searching for the answer you're looking for and you'll find it."
Max suppressed a smile. "You're like a fortune cookie. I'll see you around, Fawkes."
"Goodbye…"
The downpour was even worse when she began to approach her apartment, the request that Tony had given her now a small blip in the back of her mind. Her meeting with Fawkes had struck a chord. Was he one of the fallouts of the great, heroic adventures that people like Steve and Tony had? Could it be that even though they were doing a great deal of good, they were also doing a great deal of bad as well? Max should know, she was one of the fallouts from a large project just like Fawkes was; if she had a chance to turn her life around, then he did too. It was a thought that gave her hope, until she saw a woman's purse being snatched not twenty yards in front of her.
"Hey, he has my purse!" she yelled, running after him but hindered by her 3-inch dark orange heels and black pencil skirt.
Max began to run towards the attacker, but he was pulled sideways into an alley in a matter of seconds. The woman's purse was slung back out. She picked her purse up, as shocked and confused as Max was, then continued on her way. Max however wasn't as accepting of blissful ignorance and chose to look into the alleyway. What she saw was certainly surprising.
"I won't," the criminal pleaded, stuck to the bricks by some sort of webbing adhesive. "I swear!"
The person facing him was wearing an all-over body suit like he was about to participate in a luge competition or go bobsledding. It was blue and red, with a grip pattern like that of a web. The person's face was covered by the suit as well, two bug-like lenses allowing them to see. On the chest of the suit was a stylized print of a spider and Max knew immediately who it was. Spider-man.
Spider-man heard Max's footfall from the entrance of the alleyway and whipped his head around to look at her. After a few seconds of staring, he turned back to the criminal and fished in the pockets of his coat for the man's cell phone. Spider-man dialed the police and held the phone up to the purse snatcher's ear.
"H-help me! He's got me in some kind of webbing, like a sp-spider-" He was knocked unconscious by a swift right hook and Spider-man replaced the cell in the man's pockets. The police were on their way.
Max watched the entire exchange with a critical eye. Her fathers didn't think very highly of Spider-man. They thought he was sloppy, a young amateur playing at being a hero, but what Max saw was different. He looked tired, as if he was the only one doing the job with a world of hurt on his shoulders. The Avengers and the X-Men didn't really go after the petty law breakers, so that left Spider-man to do the job. It seemed lonely.
"Who are you?" Max asked, stepping over a broken glass bottle.
Spider-man looked at her as if he was about to answer, but turned around and ran to the nearest fire escape, leaping onto it and skittering away.
"Hey!" Max called after him. "Hey!"
But he was gone. The rain came down even harder, Max's umbrella lying forgotten on the middle of the sidewalk. She turned and left the alleyway, entering her apartment building one block down and shaking off the rain from her hair and coat. The entryway was soaked, but she didn't notice until she opened the front door to her apartment and saw that she was standing in three inches of water. Her entire apartment was flooded.
Max dropped her bag in surprise. "Shit."
With no place to live Max is going to end belly up with all of her classes, poor dear. And the question of the day is...
Who should Max live with until she can find a new apartment?
Review with your thoughts! Also, anyone wanting to sneak a peek at my new work-in-progress The Lies We Tell Ourselves (MR/HP crossover) can message me and I'll give you a sample of the first chapter.
-Acca