Many Meetings and the Most Awkward Car Ride Ever
“You okay, son?” a deep voice asks behind me. I jolt, and scramble to my feet, turning around to see the one and only Steve Rogers. Beside him stands two figures, one tall, slim, and wearing glasses, the other pale as a ghost with shoulder-length hair.
“Um…hi,” I say, lame as I can be.
“Steve Rogers,” Mr. Rogers says, walking forward and sticking out his hand. I shake it, gripping it a little too hard probably. But hey, I’m nervous! “These are my friends--”
“Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson. I uh, know who you are.”
Mr. Rogers frowns. “What?”
Shit. I take my hand from his and grip my hands in fists at my sides.“Nothing.”
“You know us?” Mr. Barnes says, raising an eyebrow.
“No.”
“Nice try kid, but you just said our names,” Mr. Wilson says. “Who are you?”
“Peter. Parker. I’m just a kid from Queens.”
“Queens.” Mr. Rogers’ eyes narrow, then widen. “ The kid from the airport.”
“No! What airport? No, no, no—”
Mr. Wilson steps forward. “You know, that actually makes sense. I knew you sounded like a twelve-year-old.”
“I’m sixteen—”
“Whatever. The point is, I knew you were just a kid.”
“Which begs the question, why would Stark get him involved in this?” Mr. Rogers bows his head, eyes clouding over with anger.
“I was shorthanded, and if you don’t back away from Peter right now, this is going to turn into a movie rated R for violence,” a voice says behind me.
I jump and turn as Mr. Stark lands, hand repulsors raised and the face-plate of his armor lifting to reveal a face so angry I hardly recognize him.
“Mr. Stark?” I ask softly.
“Stay out of this, kid,” he says, stepping past me to stand before Mr. Rogers. “This isn’t your fight.”
“Oh, but it was in Germany?” Mr. Rogers asks. “Tony, why would you hire a child?”
“Like I said, I was shorthanded. And what the hell are you doing here? You’re not in Wakanda with your best friend, who, I might add, is also a murderer?”
Mr. Rogers’ frown turns into a grimace. “Tony, don’t start this again.”
“I’ll start when I want to, you—”
“Stop!” I shout, and before I can stop myself, I’ve planted myself between the two men, holding my arms out. “Just, stop. Please.”
“Kid—” Mr. Stark starts, but I cut him off.
“Germany, and Siberia, and whatever, was two years ago. Can’t you guys ever let anything go? You guys were friends, my heroes. I’ve looked up to you guys my whole life.” My voice rises as I speak, and before I know it I’m shouting at them. “Mr. Rogers, he did hire me because he was shorthanded. But he also did it to give me a chance. He made my life better, and I owe him everything. And Mr. Stark…” My voice falls as I look at him. “His friend didn’t mean to kill anyone. He was being controlled, isn’t that what you told me? So please. Stop fighting?”
As soon as I finish I realize what the hell I’m doing. My eyes widen, and I drop my hands. “Shoot, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted, I uh, didn’t mean it? Well-I mean-obviously I did mean it, I really do want you guys to stop, I just uh, oh god, I um…”
Mr. Rogers bows his head, and his shoulders shake. He’s laughing. “Wow, Tony,” he says. “I can see why you hired him.”
“Sure, whatever,” Mr. Stark grumbles. He looks at me with shock. “Kid…you meant that?”
I nod, biting my lip. “No more fighting,” I repeat. “Please.”
“I wish it were that simple,” he replies. “But Pete, some things aren’t so easy.”
“Mr. Stark—”
“Look,” Mr. Rogers sighs. “I’m sorry.”
Mr. Stark’s eyes widen, and he says, “Come again?”
“I’m sorry, Tony. I wasn’t open with you when I should’ve been. I didn’t mean to hide anything from you.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you did.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for that. But let’s listen to the kid. I’m willing to.”
Mr. Stark looks from Mr. Rogers, to Mr. Barnes, to me, and breathes a heavy sigh. “I still don’t trust you.”
“I’m not asking you to, I just—”
“Tony!” someone says from the street. We all look over as Happy drives up, rolling the window down. “You asked me to follow, so here I am—holy shit.” His gaze lands on Mr. Rogers, and he says, “Aren’t you not supposed to be here?”
“It’s okay, Happy,” I call. “We’re fine.”
Happy still parks and gets out of the car, walking over to us. “Oh, thank god you’re okay,” he says, looking at me. “Tony told me someone attacked you.”
“Yeah…” I trail off, looking at the man on the ground, slumped against the alley wall. “He’s gonna be unconscious for a while though.”
“Let’s take him to the compound, then.” Happy looks at Mr. Rogers. “I’m not carrying him.”
Mr. Rogers nods and goes to pick the guy up.
So there I am, in the weirdest situation in my entire life, squeezed in the back of Happy’s car, squeezed with Mr. Rogers on my left, and Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes on my right, with Mr. Stark casually in the front seat and Happy driving.
“Sorry that I didn’t grab a bigger car. You guys’ll just have to squeeze,” Happy says.
“It’s fine,” Mr. Wilson huffs, his tone of voice signaling that it is clearly not fine.
The first few minutes of the car ride are the most awkward in history. No one speaks. I glance from face to face, trying to gauge how everyone’s feeling. Mr. Rogers gives me a kind smile, which I try to return. Mr. Wilson rolls his eyes and looks away, and Mr. Barnes is unreadable. I guess that comes from being a German spy, or whatever. And Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark looks out the window with a storm in his eyes. I bite my lip at that. I didn’t mean to make him so angry.
“Hey, Happy?” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Can you drop me off at my apartment?”
“Sure, why?”
“I mean, it is a school night. I have a quiz tomorrow.”
Beside me, Mr. Wilson snorts. “What?” I say indignantly, turning to him.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “God, you’re little.”
“I already told you, I’m sixteen.”
Conversation dies after that, leaving another awkward few minutes until we screech to a halt outside my apartment. I look at Mr. Rogers, and bite my lip.
“Oh, of course,” he says, blinking. He gets out and opens the door for me.
“Thanks,” I say as I get out. I begin to walk toward the door, but notice someone following me. I turn to see Mr. Wilson, Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Rogers all staring at something behind me. Frowning, I turn back around.
Then I blink.
“MJ?” I mutter as I walk toward a sleeping figure at the foot of the stairs up to my apartment. She sits with her knees to her chest, head bowed over her knees. Gently, I tiptoe up to her.
“You know her?” Mr. Rogers asks.
“Yeah,” I whisper. Slowly, I reach down and poke her on the nose. She shifts slightly, mumbling something. She’s so cute when she’s sleeping. Why’d she fall asleep out here though?
All thoughts leave my brain when she rouses, and immediately punches me in the face.
I stagger backward, holding my nose, which thankfully isn’t broken. “Ow!” I shout. “MJ, what the hell?”
Mr. Wilson starts laughing behind me, and even Mr. Stark snorts. “Hey,” I say, turning to them. When I look back at MJ, she’s on her feet.
“Oh, holy shit! I am so sorry,” she says, trying to hold back a laugh herself. “Peter are you okay?”
“No,” I say. “What was that about?”
“Instinct! I swear,” she says. “Promise.”
“Really?” I say, rubbing my nose.
“Really.”
“Okay, in all seriousness, who is this?” Mr. Rogers says. MJ looks past me, then her eyes widen.
“Oh,” she says. “Okay.”
“Steve Rogers,” Mr. Rogers says, holding out his hand.
MJ frowns, looking at him. “Captain America, huh? What do you think about our current president, then?”
Mr. Rogers sighs. “I’d punch him in the face if I could.”
“Hm.” MJ nods. “Good.” She steps forward and shakes his hand. “Michelle Jones.”
After MJ has been introduced to the others of the group, she looks at me. “So I fell asleep out here waiting for you. Accident, really. I thought I could um, help you with your…homework.” She winks, or tries to. Really she just blinks.
“Was that supposed to be a wink?” I ask, pointing to her face.
“Oh come on, I’m trying,” she hisses quietly, crossing her arms and glancing at the car.
“All right, stop flirting you two,” Mr. Stark calls from the car. “The rest of you, let’s get going. We’ve got a guy to question.”
“Right,” Mr. Rogers says with a nod. He returns to the car after giving me a nod. MJ looks in the window, and her eyes widen.
“Sorry, are you James Barnes?” she asks, looking at Mr. Barnes.
“Bucky,” Mr. Barnes says. “And yeah.”
“You’ve got a mad tragic backstory. I respect that.”
He frowns, but nods. “Thanks?”
She nods back, then straightens and returns to me. I laugh and shake my head. She gives me a playful glare.
“Kay, we’re heading out,” Happy says from the car. “See you two later.”
“See you,” I say.
With that, they drive off. I turn to MJ, and say, “So let’s head up?”
“Sure,” she says. “Let’s get this sleepover underway.”
“Sleepover?” I chuckle.
“Yeah. What else did you think this was?”
“Dunno. Let’s just head up.”
“Sure.”