O Brother, Where Art Thou?

'C'mon, Mo. Don't cry. MIT is like, so, so close. I'll come visit every other weekend. I promise.'

'But I'm going to missssss you. And who's gonna play Spider-Man and Spy girl with me?'

'Miss Momo, I'd like to apply.'

'Dad, you can't be Spider-Man. He's too cool.'

'He's too what? I'll have you know I'm cool. I'm cool beans. I'm coolio. Anyway, I was talking about playing the part of Spy girl.'

'Da-ad."

'Mo-organ.'

'Come here, Morgs, I got you something.'

'Is it a unicorn?'

'Why is your first guess always a unicorn, Morgan?'

'Mom, unicorns are cool. Get with the program.'

'Yeah, get with the program, Pep.'

'You're kind of intruding on our special brother sister moment, Tony. Go away.'

'Did you hear that, Pep? In my own home? I never.'

'Are you a 1900s southern belle, now? Leave them alone and help me with these balloons.'

'Frankly my dear—.'

'Don't you dare finish that.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'What is it, Petey?'

'It's a bracelet. I made it just for you.'

'Wow! It's even got a spider on it.'

'Yes, but most importantly, there's a secret code.'

'Really? What is it?'

'If your dad is bothering you—'I heard that!'—then just say, 'I'm going to get my brother.' No matter where you are or where I am, Karen will connect us. Then we can talk to each other like real spies—without your dad butting in.'

'Awesome.'

'Wait, a second. I didn't approve this. Friday, did I approve this?'

'Snitches get stitches, Boss.'

Little boss, per the Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite protocol, you cannot leave this room without informing a guardian. Would you like me to tell Boss you're awake?

"NO, Friday. Don't tell him anything, please."

Morgan, I am programmed to let your father know about anything that might be dangerous or detrimental to your health. Leaving a hotel room by yourself at 10 PM constitutes as a dangerous activity for a child your age.

"Wait Friday! I have to. I'm going to get my brother. Please?'

Connecting to ...

"Friday?"

Connecting to...

Unable to connect. 

That was...lucky. She closed the door and walked quietly to the elevators. Morgan was pretty sure that on the scale of forgetting-to-lock-Gerald’s-gate trouble and sneaking-into-her-dad’s-lab-without-permission trouble, her current adventure would place her pretty squarely in the second category. Aunt Nat told her once that most of spying is having the skill, patience, and courage to metaphorically take opportunity and kick it in the private parts. (Aunt Nat then showed her how to do this literally, which really made for an interesting birthday party when Uncle Clint snuck up on her with a water balloon. Her dad laughed so hard he snorted cake through his nose.) Morgan had an opportunity now—and like a good spy, she was going to take it.

As Morgan sat in the Uber, she wished her Aunt Nat was there too, if only to give her advice on how to make a dream brother who didn’t remember her listen. For some reason, she felt as if she only had one chance at this, and she just couldn’t mess it up. She didn’t want to go back to Lego lady and she didn’t want to disappoint her mom. Her dad would most definitely never let her out of his sight again if he caught her—even if she had a really, really, really good excuse. If dinner that night was anything to go by, he thought the mysterious boy in the Physics building was bad news. But as she held his id tag and room key card in her hands, he didn't look bad. He looked sad. He looked like her heart felt ever since the night her mom died.

“Here’s your stop. Are you sure this is where you want to go? You’re kind of young, aren't you?"

"And you’re kind of smelly. I told you, my brother’s waiting for me."

"Whatever, kid. Just tell him to leave me some stars."

Morgan walked into the lobby and tried to look nonchalant. How would Aunt Nat do it? She waved to a girl working on her laptop. "Excuse me. I'm looking for my brother?"

"Sure thing, hon. What's his name?"

"Benjamin Fitzpatrick."

The girl rolled her eyes and muttered something Morgan couldn't quite hear but also sounded like one of those words Uncle Happy said anytime they were late when he was driving her to school. "He's on the second floor. Down the hall to the right. You can't miss him." 

Morgan thanked her and followed her directions. As she got closer, she could hear loud music coming from the hall. Something smelled really bad, so she held her nose and walked towards a group of boys huddled around one of the doors. "Excuse me—"

"Shit. Is that a preschooler?" "Put it out." "What the hell—"

"Someone get Cody." "He's passed out." "That's not any preschooler. That's fucking Tony Stark's kid." "I'm gonna Tweet this."

"You're high, Sam."  "You're drunk, Greg."

"Hey, jackasses, what's happening?" "Go get Fitz."

Morgan pushed through the crowd, and stepped into the room. There was a kitchen to her right, filled with empty pizza boxes and a trashcan overflowing with red cups and cans. There were several bottles on the counter, as well as two people kissing. Morgan looked away because gross and stepped into the living room. Several people were lying around the couch, but they didn't seem interested in her. They were looking at the wall, smiling, and a couple looked like they were even taking a nap. Morgan hadn't experienced many parties in her short life, but sleeping didn't seem like a very fun activity. 

She walked down the hall, pushing her way past several people. She found a bedroom and opened the door. Benjamin (but Benjamin didn't really sound right to her, especially since her dream told her to look for a Peter) was standing on top of the bed with a huge glass bottle of clear water in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Several people were looking on. 

"And then I said, 'and I'd be much obliged if you just fucked off,'" the room laughed, "and that's how I ended up with a black eye and $1000." He took a swig and looked at the open door. Morgan waved. 

Benjamin Peter's eyes widened (Morgan kind of thought he looked like an angry Gerald) and he hopped off the bed so quickly, Morgan would've sworn he could fly. He grabbed her arm firmly but gently and pulled her out of the doorway. 

"What are you doing here?"

Morgan noticed his hands were shaking, so she held them. "Hi! You're the boy I saw this morning. I'm Morgan. I found your id tag. Here you go. You shouldn't leave it around. Anyone could take it. My dad always tells me to hang on to my stuff but I'm only in third grade, and I don't have a lot of stuff, but he worries, like, all the time, ohandikeephavingthisdreamaboutaboynamedpeterwholookslikeyouandithinkyouaremybrother." She said the last part in one breath and then leaned back on her heels to see his face. It was completely blank. If he had been a computer, Morgan would have said he was rebooting. 

"I—ok—I can't handle this. You need to go home. Where's your dad?"

"Wait. I need to talk to you."

"Does he know you're here?"

"Just a second."

"He doesn't?"

"Please don't call him."

"MORGAN STARK. You are telling me you ditched Iron Man, War Machine, and a body guard and somehow travelled to a stranger's dorm room by yourself in an unknown city at 10 PM to return an id you found because a dream told you to do it. Fu-fudge. That's like, the most unsafe thing to do ever. What the hell were you thinking?"

A metallic voice sounded behind them—"My question exactly."