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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: Friendly Competition
𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ─ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐍.𝐘.
𝟏𝟑 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
☆
BEEP!-BEEP!-BEEP!-BEEP!-BEEP!-BEEP!—
Lizzie Carter's body rose from the dead before her mind caught up to it when her alarm clock went off. Blaring into her eardrum...until it suddenly stopped just before she could touch it. She hummed in content with her eyes closed, feet touching the ground as she tried her hardest to wake up in her sitting position. A few seconds went by before, suddenly, consciousness swarmed her senses when she realized someone had turned off of her alarm. Lizzie's bloodshot-eyes shot open to see who it was—her mom? Her dad?
None of the above.
"Sharon?"
The name lodged in her throat and she had to swallow to complete it, not fully believing what was happening in front of her. No, no. Surely, she was dreaming—but disbelief couldn't change the wide, brown-eyes of her older sister. Ones that she could only see in pictures now. The dark attire was off-putting considering the weather outside, and an expression graced Sharon's face that Lizzie only recognized in ghosts nows—Spy Sharon. She opened her mouth, every question under the sun on the top of her tongue, but she couldn't, suddenly numb from her ears to her toes.
"C'mon, we've got to go! Get up!" Spy-Sharon bent down to collect her backpack from the side of the bed, then she anxiously went in the direction of Lizzie's dresser to start rooting through them for clothing. When Sharon heard no movement, she shot a piercing glare at her younger sister. "Now, Agent Three!"
Lizzie shot out of bed at the order and grabbed the pair of clothes her older sister threw in her direction. Blinking, she watched as Sharon's hands knocked over a framed picture on her nightstand of her and Casey—no, her and C.T., right? Lizzie blindly pulled the black T-shirt on, glancing down when she realized how tight it was. Three years too small, but she couldn't tell that to Sharon. Her sister took directive, but that didn't stop Lizzie from giving panicked glances when a pair of tennis shoes were thrown in her direction.
"Sharon, what the hell is going on? Where have you been!" she rushed out, flustered as she went to roll socks over her feet. They'd healed. When Sharon didn't reply and looked out the window in their parents' Brooklyn apartment instead, she angrily threw one of the Nike shoes back onto the ground. "Sharon! Where are Mom and Dad?!"
Sharon looked at her sharply. "The license plate. You were right."
HYDRA.
Lizzie couldn't do this.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she backed away from Sharon.
No. This wasn't happening.
Something wasn't right, and all she wanted to do was scream into the silence growing between herself and her sister.
"Where were you?" Lizzie asked with more persistence, ignoring the stinging in her eyes. Sharon stared at her like she was insane, and that didn't lessen her panic any more. Pitifully, she wanted to curl back under her covers and cry, all but whimpering as the tears kissed her eyelashes. "Sharon! You're scaring me—"
"I know. I know. You can't be scared right now, MJ. You can't—we have to go, okay?"
Lizzie didn't understand, but it was her sister. Sharon grabbed her wrist and started to pull her toward her bedroom door, but when Lizzie reached to her neck and found it bare, her feet all but cemented on the ground in alarm.
"No, no—stop—wait—"
She needed them. Panicked, the teenage-girl painfully ripped her wrist free so she could scramble back to her nightstand. The chain sat there to her relief, and she snatched it up just as the bedroom door opened. She flipped the tags over to be sure they were the correct way as she talked.
"Okay, okay—I got 'em—"
James B. Barnes was stamped on the tags. The words stopped forming mid-sentence as she stared down at the tags. That can't be right.
"Agent Three?"
Why does Sharon keep calling her that—
"Lizzie."
That wasn't Sharon.
Like sharp nails digging into a chalkboard, the muscles in Lizzie's body spasmed. Her fingers tangled in the dog-tags, unwilling to let go. But she couldn't bring herself to look up either. How cowardice of her that she could not face her demons. Forcing her eyes away from the safety that was Bucky Barnes, Lizzie suffered the deadliest of blows when Agent Ian Monroe stood next to her sister. Betrayal.
"Agent Three—"
Another piercing noise perforating her ear drums, his voice grating down to her spine. The tears made her vision blurry, deepening the hole in her chest as dangerous memories of Agent Ian Monroe assaulted her mind. Nothing was okay. There was not a world where Sharon would allow this to happen—not her sister, she repeated, convinced of that truth when she helplessly prayed Sharon would stop this. Monroe stared through her, and she wished she could swallow up the tears so he had nothing to boast about.
You are my pain.
"This isn't happening," she repeated firmly to the two individuals watching her, only to realize she'd not ever said it out loud, had she? Shaking her head, Lizzie started to feel like she was losing her mind. "This isn't happening—"
"You know the truth, Emily."
Emily?
Lizzie couldn't believe her sister's words. "What did you just say?"
"I said, you know the truth, MJ. HYDRA is still out there."
HYDRA. HYDRA.
The driver's license. The car following her. The night she saved Peter Parker. Liz's party—like a spiral, she tried to collect her most recent memories, trying to understand where her last twenty-four hours had gone. Ma picked her up from practice after she talked to Art, C.T. came over and said goodbye until they met up in D.C.—
D.C.
Lizzie could feel the realization dawn on her as she stared at her sister, face falling and hand dropping with the dog-tags. "I was supposed to go to D.C. today. The bus leaves at noon—"
"—Emily, what are you talking about? We're in D.C."
On cue, the phone that Sharon still held in her hand started to glare the all-too familiar alarm. Jolting out of bed all over again like a broken record set to the same screeching tone, Lizzie Carter met the floor in a sweaty, tangled mess of sheets with a heart trying to race out from her chest. Panicked, she raced to her neck, pulling the tags to her face so that she could read the names for proof that she was awake. That this was real.
Please be real.
Steven G. Rogers had never given her more comfort as she repeated the print like a mantra, her head resting on the cool, hardwood floor that morning.
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘
"Hey, it's Peter!"
When Lizzie (indisputably) went to hell, per the kind words said to her and C.T. on the subway that weekend, she would hear something along those lines. Because hell would not be the flaming, red depths of HELL! if Peter Parker wasn't showing up at the worst times to breathe down her neck with questions and problems for her to solve. Unfortunately, she wasn't surprised. At least this time he had given her some kind of warning before he planned to do something stupid. Yesterday he texted her the location that the tracker stopped, mentioning Maryland and D.C. and evil lair, and she didn't have the energy to tell him no anymore. She'd begun anticipating the worst with him.
"Hey, guys," he said hesitantly, very much aware that a pair of brown eyes were scalding the left side of his face. He approached Liz specifically, a sheepish expression on his face. "I was hoping maybe I could re-join the team."
Flash stepped through their small crowd of teammates, and Lizzie's eyes zeroed in on the back of his head instead of Parker when he nearly clipped her shoulder. Bad move, Eugene. "No. No way! You can't just quit on us, stroll up, and be welcomed back by everyone."
Not a moment later, Mr. Harrington stepped out from the bus and lit up when he noticed Peter standing there. "Hey, welcome back, Peter! Flash, you're back to first alternate."
"What?"
"He's taking your place," Abe repeated with a grin, his own amusement put bluntly.
"Hey, though," Lizzie spoke for the first time that morning, moving forward to slap harshly against the front of Flash's shoulder in a petty congratulations. She purposefully dug her fingertips in a little deeper. "Now you can plan your hot date with Black Widow."
Natasha would be proud of that one.
Following closely behind like a shadow, Lizzie tilted her head when Michelle appeared just over her shoulder. "Excuse me, can we go already? 'Cause I was hoping to get some light protesting in front of one of the embassies before dinner, so."
"Protesting is patriotic. Let's go. Everyone in, everyone in—Lizzie, do you have your sport things?" Mr. Harrington asked before she could get on the bus, and she snorted at his definition of her athletic bag but nodded. "Great, great! Alright, guys! You know the drill! It'll be a few hours 'til we get to the hotel. The National Tournament is tomorrow at eleven a.m.! We will in the building by ten-thirty a.m. to check in, do you hear me? If you're not at our designated location at ten, you're not participating! As you all know, we have a free day after the tournament. We have to make a pit-stop and drop Lizzie off at her game, but then we will take a vote on what to do next! Any questions? None? Great! Let's roll!"
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
After ten minutes of fighting over seats (which arguably should not have happened, considering they had the whole bus but Flash was an asshole), everyone was comfortably seated and they were on their way. Lizzie and Michelle sat in one seat together for the time being, solely to whisper to each other as the trip started out and share the snacks Lizzie's Dad had packed for them. A passive-aggressive game of rock-paper-scissors decided who would get the window seat, and Lizzie won with a grin. That grin disappeared when Peter Parker took the seat directly in front of them, as close to Liz Allen as he could get.
"As you all know, every year, the Academic Decathlon decides on a theme. They released it in March, so I've tried my hardest to cater all of our questions around the one released this year—"
Lizzie stopped chewing on her gummy worm and shrunk down in her seat, leaning her head against Michelle's shoulder to whisper. "We have a theme?"
"World War II. Fun, right?" MJ muttered back with a roll of her eyes. A chill went down Lizzie's spine, and she brought her head back up to listen to Liz Allen's spirit speech. Oh, great. Her favorite era.
"—just remember that we're a team. Everyone has their strengths, and we can use that to our advantage in order to win. I know it's been a difficult few weeks starting the new school year, but I really do think we're going to go out there and kill it. Alright. Let's get started! I brought the bells, so I figured we can start with..."
Twisting their lips in contempt, Lizzie and Michelle locked eyes at the enthusiasm of their captain and tried their hardest not to let the trip drive them absolutely insane. Liz passed the bells out as she talked, a particular bump sending her reaching for the seat in front of Peter. He raised faster than Lizzie and Michelle could process, both blinking at the reaction-time then looking at each other. Liz ushered his hand away with a smile, handing him a bell, and then continued down to them next. Lizzie adjusted her position on the seat, twisting so her leg was under her and her back was against the window. Unfortunately, that meant her left arm was considerably close to Peter as it rested behind his head and he was skillfully aware of it.
When Liz tried to hand Michelle a bell, Michelle shook her head. "Oh, no thanks. I'm good. I learn better outside of competitive games. I think competition is stupid."
"That's something a loser would say," Lizzie retorted as she took a bell, not baring any heat to the joke as she grinned down at Michelle. Everyone knew Lizzie was competitive. Her reputation could speak for itself.
"Just don't hit me when your arm goes flying to answer first."
"No promises."
After Liz distributed the bells to all of the members who wanted to participate in the game, she returned back to the front of the bus and rooted through her bag to find a very large stack of flash cards. "Everyone's got their bells? Okay, alright. What is a singularity?"
Abe had preemptively planned to answer the question and hit the bell the second Liz stopped speaking. "An object that has zero size, but infinite density!"
Fifty flashcards in and Lizzie could feel her brain rotting, and the only resolve was forcing herself to compete against her teammates in Liz Allen's two-hour-long study session. After a while, the questions and answers started blurring together. Every so often, someone would perk up and go on a streak, but the least-competitive of their group stayed quiet. Those who remained invested in the game were: Lizzie, Flash, Cindy Moon, Abe, and—big shocker!—Peter Parker.
"Fort Sumpter," Flash said with an air of cockiness.
Lizzie's face twisted at the wrong answer, looking back at him. "No—"
"—Flash is wrong," Abe finished, the two of them seemingly tag-teaming against Flash for the entirety of their trip. "It was in Germany. Fort Sumpter was the Civil War."
"Good job, Abe! Our next topic is the moons of Saturn. What are they named after?"
Peter's hand went down on his bell in front of her, and he swallowed his prideful expression when he heard that Lizzie had also hit hers. "Greek Mythology."
"What is a binary star-system?" Liz asked, just in time for Peter's ears to ring from Lizzie's bell behind him. The captain turned her head with a smile to Lizzie. Michelle frowned next to her at the disruption, turning another page in her book. "Lizzie?"
Lizzie had moved ten times as a result of her anxious tendencies, much to Michelle's annoyment. She did so again by pulling her leg up as she spoke, resting her elbow on her knee so that she could have a headrest. "A set of stars that orbit one another around a common center of gravity."
"Yes! Okay. What is contained in the accretion disk that surrounds the black hole?"
Peter nearly sent his bell into aisle-way. "Gas, dust, and disintegrated stars."
"Liz, don't overwork them," Mr. Harrington's voice carried through the half-empty bus from his seat at the front.
"Okay. Last round, so let's randomize it—" Liz cleared her throat, glancing down at her cue cards. "—who sang 'My Way'?"
"Frank Sinatra," said Lizzie, rubbing her eyes as she felt the first wave of exhaustion. Entertainment, science, and history were her greatest asset to the team. And sports when they came up, of course.
"What was the name of the scientist who created the super-soldier serum?"
Reality may as well have dropped a bucket of ice-water over her head. Lizzie's hand stopped as did the rest of her body, fingers covering her eyes as she pushed deeper into her vision until she saw white. Peter frowned, having understood their little game of friendly competition to be over with when he made the connection to Steve Rogers, but he still found himself pressing on the bell gently.
"Abraham Erskine."
"Yes! Remember that one. It was on the most updated list. Very good, Peter. Glad to have you back."
Lizzie opened her eyes immediately at the comment. She couldn't resist watching Peter as he swooned over Liz Allen, the compliment overwhelming his senses and sending his heart into overdrive. However, his moment was ruined when his phone started ringing. Based off the reaction he had when he noticed the caller ID, the individual on the other end wasn't his favorite person.
"Can I take this real quick?" Peter asked Liz quietly, trying not to get lost in the way her eyes cast down on him in disappointment. He always ruined the moment. "It'll only be a sec."
Liz nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, fine."
Peter got up and walked to the back of the bus where Ned was, but instead of watching him, Lizzie noticed that Michelle looked up from her book at the interruption. She followed Peter's figure until she couldn't any longer, then returned her eyes back to the seat in front of her for a moment. That concerned Lizzie. Because Michelle wasn't stupid, and when she caught onto something, she would figure it out. If she'd been observant of what Peter had dropped out of and now his personal life, she may already be onto his secret—and his secret led to hers.
"Probably his Stark Internship," Abe said as he watched Peter pick up the call.
"Nice to know he's all-in on this, guys!" Flash was the furthest away from their small huddle of students and chose the back seat, and that must have been a conscious decision when his grin wavered at Lizzie's glare. "I'm just saying...as an alternate—"
"As an alternate, you don't get to say anything about the team, Eugene," Lizzie reminded him, giving him a sharp-toothed sneer when he flicked her off behind Liz's back.
Cindy Moon's head popped up for a brief second to find Lizzie's eyes. "Hey, MJ! Do you think you could explain softball to me before your game tomorrow? I bought sunflower seeds, and a baseball hat, and...well, I can't remember what else because some things didn't fit in my bag..."
"Yeah, of course. I'll explain it," Lizzie promised, genuinely touched by how excited her teammate and friend was to watch her play. "It's kind of boring honestly. We can talk about it after the protest—"
"—you're coming with me?" Michelle perked up, lifting her head again with muted excitement. When Lizzie smiled and nodded, MJ nodded a few times herself. "Cool. Okay. Cool."
"Okay, guys! We can talk more later. Let's focus!"
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 ─ 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂.
The Concordia Hotel was in the heart of Washington, D.C. and the second Lizzie recognized landmarks of the city she felt nauseous. Memories were her worst enemy, and after her nightmare, she couldn't take the reminders sneaking up on her. A visible change was noticed, and Michelle even asked if she was alright when Lizzie started to grow feverish under her disgustingly-ugly, yellow jacket. An easy excuse of all the snacks they'd consumed was given, and the girls followed the others into the expensive hotel. An agreement had to have been met considering the banners promoting the USAD UNITED STATES Academic Decathlon were overbearing. She knew the second her team pulled up to the hotel, they would be talking about it (she heard Taylor now: "Why don't we get the banners?").
"Everyone stick together!" Liz shouted behind her shoulder as they walked to the check-in station.
Charles looked around in awe. "You kidding me? This place is huge!"
"I've seen bigger," Flash said, much to Charles' upset when his shoulders fell.
Lizzie couldn't hold her tongue when she heard him, smirking to herself as she passed by with Michelle. "You say that a lot, Eugene?"
"There's a bird in here!" Abe said in disbelief, pointing at the bird and reaching blindly for Lizzie's elbow to get her to look as well. "Why is there a bird in here?"
"There's no roof," she observed as she tilted her head along with him.
"That's so stupid."
Lizzie nodded, squinting when the golden hour hit her eyes. "Imagine the bugs."
"Imagine when it rains."
"Alright, guys! We're going to figure out our room numbers. Everyone has already agreed to their designated roommate for the night, correct?" Liz asked after rounding them up into a small group of mustard yellow, and a chorus of agreements replied to her. Lizzie chose Michelle. Or, rather, Michelle chose Lizzie. "Great. Okay. So, keys are right here. Peter and Ned, you get Room..."
When all of the rooms had been delegated and everyone got their correct keycards, Liz sent everyone off to find their rooms. All of them were on the second floor, and so it became a race between Charles, Abe, and Flash to the elevator. Others stayed further behind, Liz being one of them with the extra-baggage she was carrying (quite literally, her softball bag, not metaphorical baggage—although Peter's sketchy whispers to Ned may qualify). They all separated, with Michelle and Lizzie being two doors down from Peter and Ned, and neighbors with Cindy and Sally.
As they entered and took in their room, a terracotta that reminded Lizzie instantly of her mother's prized hallway. Michelle approved as well, going to the bed furthest from the door and putting down her bag. "Fair warning, I stay up late."
"Oh, good. Me too," Lizzie said as she threw her bag on the bed and laid down with a sigh. The quality of the mattress and sheets surprised her, even if they were in a great hotel. Muffled through the pillow, she melted into the mattress after their long trip. "They feel like marshmallows on your face."
"Thank God. My back is killing me from the bus."
"I'm sorry you didn't make your protest."
"That's okay," Michelle said with a growing frown. Traffic delayed their arrival. "It just sucks because it's the one thing I was looking forward to. I honestly don't want to be here at all, but Mom said I need 'social interaction' and to try my hardest to have a good time...not that I'm not all about the team—"
Lizzie snorted into the pillow, knowing Michelle wasn't a 'group' or 'team' kind of person. She relied on herself and that was an admirable quality. "Real convincing."
"It's just not my thing."
"I get it. If I had to give up one or the other, I'd give up the Decathlon before I ever thought about quitting softball. It's just another thing to boost my resume for college," Lizzie admitted. She tried not to think about that summer when she'd nearly quit both. C.T. brought her back to reality. "But I really don't know what I want to do after high school. Not like everyone else at Midtown...it's not a choice between Ivy Leagues for me. I don't even know if I want to go."
"What would you do?" Michelle asked, beginning to unpack her bag. "Like, major in."
"I like law. Ma made me interested in it, and...I don't know. I think I would be good at it. I love science, but I don't know if I could invest in that my whole life. Biology? Yes, but I need change...I need to be active—"
"You could always double-major."
Lizzie's face twisted. "Seems like a lot of work."
"Have you seen your schedule now?"
"Fair point."
"I hate to disturb your comfort," Michelle started, but Lizzie could hear in her voice she wasn't apologetic at all. "...but let's unpack and go to dinner. I'm starving."
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
Unsurprisingly, Peter had a plan. Or surprisingly, depending on how you looked at it. That plan could not be executed until he figured out where the 'Find-My-Peter' tracker was inside of his suit. Ned Leeds sat next to him in their shared hotel room, having connected the suit to the USB port in his laptop so that they could run a system's diagnostic and figure out what everything was. Mister Stark's suit would electrify like a current every-so-often, reminding them that—while it may appear to be primarily fabric—the heart of the suit was electronic.
"Peter," Ned looked unsure. "Why are we removing the tracker from your suit? I thought you said this was how Lizzie found you—"
Peter purposefully ignored Ned's comment about Lizzie, continuing to pull apart at the different wires. "I gotta follow these guys to their boss before they move again, and I really don't want Mister Stark to know about it...or Lizzie, for that matter. It's bad enough I had to even tell her what was going on—"
"So you're lying to Iron Man and Lizzie now?"
"I'm not lying! He just doesn't get what I can do yet...and neither does Lizzie. Stop bringing her up, dude," Peter grumbled under his breath at his best friend's crush, but finally he picked the small tracking device out of his suit. "Ah, gotcha! Alright, Happy. Enjoy tracking this lamp."
Ned continued to watch him warily. "I'm just saying, Lizzie is a lot more qualified to deal with these things, and it seems like she thinks it's a bad idea..."
"She thinks everything is a bad idea."
"I really don't get why you hate her so much. She's great, you know? Pretty...funny...kind..." Ned's eyes glossed over as he thought about the teenage girl, overwhelmingly depressed Peter hated her so much and they couldn't all be best friends. He stopped talking when he saw how Peter was staring angrily and returned back to his laptop. "...I just think you should give her a chance. I mean, I feel really bad about her aunt—"
The reminder of Lizzie Carter's aunt made Peter freeze. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! He'd completely forgotten in the mess of her Avengers-alter-ego that before Berlin, she was attending a funeral for her great aunt. The funeral of the woman she'd feared losing, something that she'd confided in him, and he forgot. How could he forget when that's where her nickname came from? Stupid. Thoughts wandering, he found himself even more frustrated. Not once could he get a break from thinking about her and all the things he'd done wrong.
"Can we just focus on this? Please? I really don't want to talk about her right now."
"Fine. It looks like there's a ton of other subsystems in here...but they're all disabled by the Training Wheels Protocol," Ned revealed to his own amusement, smirking down at the laptop.
"What?" Peter shot up to look at the screen, and the moment he read the name, the dark, angry cloud over his head turned grayer. "Turn it off."
Ned lost his humor at the request. "I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, they're probably blocked for a reason—"
"Come on, man! I don't need training wheels!" he exclaimed as he hopped up on his bed, bouncing on it as he talked. "I'm sick of him treating me like a kid all the time. It's not cool."
"But you are a kid."
"Yeah. A kid who can stop a bus with his bare hands."
"Peter. I just don't think this is a great idea," Ned repeated again, mainly because he had a mental image of Lizzie Carter's reaction when she found out. If he had to throw Peter under a bus to save himself, he absolutely would. Plus, what he was doing seemed to be falling in the realm of criminal activity. "I mean...what if this is illegal?"
Peter jumped off and crouched back down against the side of Ned's bed, using the best version of puppy-dog eyes to get his way. "Look, please. This is my chance to prove myself. To Mister Stark. To Lizzie. I can handle it...Ned, come on."
"I really don't think this is a good idea..."
Peter was pulling all the stops, pleading. "The guy in the chair..."
"Don't do that."
"Come on."
With a reluctant sigh, Ned started to type once again. Two doors down, Lizzie Carter and Michelle Jones were readying themselves to break the rules. Liz sent out a text message to the group saying to meet her by the pool at ten. After convincing Michelle over a bag of Hot Cheetos to go, the two of them tried to find acceptable clothing for a swim (since no one told them to pack swimsuits). Lizzie changed into a sports bra and a pair of athletic shorts while Michelle pulled an oversized T-shirt over her head and a pair of basketball shorts. Every so often, Michelle would look over to check on Lizzie, who had been on Facetime with C.T. Clemins since they left dinner thirty minutes ago.
"Alright. I'm going to get off. Liz is trying to get everyone to go swimming as some team-bonding exercise. I guess it's better than the stuff we had to do...I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Lizzie spoke softly over the phone, watching C.T. nod across the screen. She was laying in bed, having just relayed all of the information she heard from the seniors about the trip tomorrow. The high school didn't have a field, so they would be playing at the field near the Washington Monument.
Lizzie knew that place a little too well.
"Be safe, and text me when you all leave. I won't have my phone on during the competition, but I'll text you and let you know if we won right after. Don't kill Taylor. I know you're close on the roster, and I'm not there to sit between you two—"
"I'll play nice, I promise," C.T. replied with a smile, and Lizzie wished the Internet was better in the hotel. "Have fun tonight. I'll text you tomorrow morning. Good luck, MJ. See you soon."
"See you, Clem. Bye," and with that, the Facetime ended. Lizzie dropped her phone, sighing heavily and rubbing the headache that was starting to form. One thing that Lizzie Carter had not been mentally prepared for was a relationship. Granted, she could not be living more of a high school experience, as she now had to worry about her girlfriend, best friend, her ex-not-a-girlfriend, and Peter Parker all being in D.C. tomorrow. She assumed it was too naive to assume that everything would go according to plan—wake up, win Nationals, win both softball games, C.T. and Casey tragically miss each other, Peter Parker decides to take a break on crime fighting—sounded amazing. Too good to be true.
Michelle didn't know whether or not she should leave the girl to herself, but she paused when she noticed just how upset Lizzie had become. "MJ? Are you okay?"
"What?" Lizzie asked in confusion, and then she lifted her head and returned back to her surroundings. She frowned at the question, glancing over at her phone. "Oh. I...uh. I'm pretty sure my girlfriend thinks I'm cheating on her, and she wants to meet the first girl I ever kissed tomorrow at our softball game—but I barely have time to sleep, much less manage two relationships—"
"Why does she think that?"
"I screwed up and left her at Liz's party Friday night, said-first-kiss DM'd me a few hours before that party, and I'm the worst at texting back, so...it's not like our relationship was built on trust, but I thought we were working on things..." Lizzie felt like she was putting her complicated relationship issues onto Michelle and instantly felt bad. "I'm sorry. This is all stupid—"
"—maybe, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't talk about it. It's not stupid if it upsets you," Michelle sympathized, slowly shuffling until she sat down on the bed opposite Lizzie. "What do you mean about the trust thing? I know you mentioned she was your ex last year, but...I try not to assume. I didn't even really know you were into girls until her."
Lizzie's lips pulled to one side at the question, and her exposed right shoulder stung as she shrugged. "This is the first time we've actually called it a relationship. This is the first time I've been in a real relationship. Like, feelings and arguments and all. Before...we were never official, and she broke my trust. We were in a weird in-between ever since. Ah...you know how I lost my aunt this summer? I, uh...I really needed someone. She was there. She'd always been there for my worst moments, but she also caused some of them...stupid, I know. Taylor hates her."
"Like I said, not stupid if it upsets you. I wish I could help. I know I don't...I'm not open, and I understand that, but I also know you understand me. I appreciate you, and I'm sorry you're going through a lot right now. I'm always here to listen, though, MJ. No matter what. Never think you bother me, stupid or not."
Lizzie softened, her heart stinging at the words from a friend. She hated that she worried them, though—that they were concerned enough to remind her that they were there for her. But maybe she needed the reminder. Michelle Jones may not have been someone she expected to care so deeply for a year ago, but now that she had lost so much, seeing those who remained started to become easier. But she'd never needed them more.
"Thanks, MJ."
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
Lizzie usually loved when she was right. She wasn't particularly happy about this one. She watched with a scowl as Peter span around on the rooftop, talking to himself. Her and Michelle had gotten to the pool to find the rest of the Decathlon Team in the water, some playing chicken while the others lounged off the side. When Lizzie failed to spot a certain-arachnid-loving-migraine, she realized her 'too-good-to-be-too' was also right.
Figuring out where he was had been the difficult part, because when she went to her 'Find-My-Peter' app, it only said that he was still inside of the hotel. Since Ned was alone in his room, that left her to her last option: the rooftop. Unfortunately, this wasn't the first time.
"Hello? Hello?" he'd not seen her yet, too focus on whoever was speaking on the other line. Clearly talking to someone, with his head ducked low. "Ah, thank you!...I put a tracker on someone...he's a bad guy—okay, well as long as I make it back in time for the Decathlon, it's fine—"
When he started to make his exit, she stopped him. "Parker."
"Oh, God."
Peter Parker had been adjusting to the new, unlocked version of his suit. When he turned to face the familiar voice, his suit zeroed in on Lizzie Carter standing there. Instantly, the database adjusted to her features, lining each of them out until her name appeared off to the side. Elizabeth Jay Carter, fifteen years old, she's a Libra! (makes sense, Peter thought), along with a particularly exaggerated list of preferences at the bottom which he could access. Only particular names underneath like 'BLINDSPOT' and—to his dismay—'PADME'S MOM' peaked his interest.
He tried to pretend that wasn't happening as he talked to her, because if she found out they'd hacked into his suit, he feared she would burn the suit with him still in it. "Hey! I thought you were swimming with everyone—"
"I was until you acted all sketchy, and I realized what you were planning!"
"I'm not planning anything!" That was a clear lie, even with his voice raising ten octaves and the clear floundering of his arms. Peter ignored the SUIT LADY talking in his ear, asking him if he wanted to end the mission. Shit. He spoke to her and Lizzie at the same time. "No! No, I'm not—look, I'll be back before anyone notices I'm gone—"
"Great, because I'm going with you."
Peter froze. "What?"
"I'm coming with you. You're obviously not going to go fight crime in the streets of D.C., which means your dumb-ass is going to Maryland to find the weapons dealers. You're not going without me."
"I didn't invite you—"
"And I'm not asking for permission, partner."
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Author's Note:
Well...y'all got your Monroe appearance. Yikes.
And here I shower you with all the spoilers and random things for future NATM because I got my photoshop back. These will be later chapter gifs, but also a few other things I made while bored.
As always, let me know what you thought about the chapter! Just a filler for the most part. I'm excited to write the next chapter, and then be DONE with Homecoming. It's honestly a drag to write because I'm now doing more than just Lizzie's scenes, but Peter's also (when they involve Lizzie indirectly...i.e. Ned's crush).
(We're only in part two lmfao.)
(THIS TOOK TOO LONG PLS LOVE IT)
{THIS IS THE ERA OF MJ/PETER I'M SO EXCITED FOR]
(NSFW OOP...18+ mjpeter)
I'll leave u w that one.