—chapter sixteen:
moving day /
date night

"MAMA, IF THAT'S MOVIN' UP,
THEN I'M MOVIN' OUT."

Moving out was a pain in the ass.

    It was even more of a pain in the ass when Jackson only had a week to do it. She thought about asking for help but she figured everyone was busy with their own lives so she didn't think they'd drop what they were doing to come and help.

    So here she was, two days later and standing in what used to be the living room area, surrounded and outnumbered by boxes. She managed to get a good chunk of it done, remembering that she was now superhuman—it was still a weird thing for her to think, even though there were much weirder things out there that took a little longer to believe.

    She was about to get started with taping up the rest of the boxes when she heard a familiar ringtone (Across the Stars from the Star Wars score) coming from her back pocket. Pulling it out, she answered it and said, "This used to be the Edwards residence, Jackson speaking."

    "You know you don't have to answer that way every time I call," said Bruce, although Jackson could feel his smile on the other side of the line.

     "I answer my phone that way with everybody. You're no exception."

    "Now, that I didn't know. Um, what are you doing right now?"

    "Packing." Jackson took a look around the room at all of the boxes that still needed to be taped up and moved out into the truck she rented. "I'm about three-quarters of the way through. One more quarter and then I'll be done."

    "I left the apartment yesterday and you're already almost done?"

    "May I remind you that I'm superhuman now?" Jackson teased. "I can get things done faster than normal, which for me is already pretty fast so I'd be doing things four times quicker than the average human."

    "Wow," Bruce commented, "that is fast. So I guess you won't be needing my help, then."

    "I mean, I could still use your help. I've been meaning to ask but I figured you were busy working with Tony so I didn't want to be a bother."

    There was a bit of silence before Bruce responded. "You know you can always ask for my help, birdie. Or help, in general. I'm your boyfriend, I signed up for this. It's in the job description."

    Hearing Bruce call himself Jackson's boyfriend did something funny to her—it made her stomach lighter and a little jumpy in the best way possible. She still hadn't gotten over it and she hoped that she wouldn't. She wanted that feeling to last forever.

    "I know," Jackson finally answered, "I just didn't want to come across as- " she bit her tongue at the word clingy, stopping herself because she knew that she wasn't but that tiny part still lingered within her, tainting a part of her that was hard to shake.

    "I actually quite like that part about you, Jackson. I'd cuddle you all day if I could."

    Jackson's heart fluttered. "Well, I am a world-renowned cuddler."

    "It's not really world-renowned if I'm the only one who knows it."

    "When I think of you my entire world, it is."

    "Romantic and clever," Bruce chuckled, "every day you give me a reason to remind me how lucky I am to have you."

    "I try my best. But I do still need your help with packing."

    "Right."

"Is this you from high school?" Bruce asked, holding up a picture frame. Jackson walked over to see the picture and she almost cringed just looking at it. The picture was nice but it was just a reminder of how much of an overachiever she used to be in high school. Granted she was still an overachiever, it showed how much more of an overachiever she had been when she was younger.

    "Oh, dear God almighty. Where'd you even find that?" asked Jackson, taking the picture frame to look at it. High school her stared off in a different direction, pointed and smug, her blazer iron and pressed to perfection.

    "Behind the couch. What, you don't like it?"

    "Not necessarily." Jackson handed the picture frame back to Bruce. "It's a nice photo, I just don't like the person that's in it. I was all cocky and judgemental because I had a four-point-oh without even trying. It's what I got because of my parents boosting my ego to the moon before I realized what they were doing to me. You can keep it, if you'd like."

    "No, you keep it. Think of it as a reminder of how far you've come."

     Jackson smiled softly, taking the photo back before placing it in the last open box before taping it up. "Oh my God. That's the final box. We're done!"

"We still gotta move the boxes into the truck, though."

"Tiny victories, Bruce. Tiny victories."

    Bruce pulled Jackson in by the waist, smiling. "Of course. Think we can get these down before we lose our reservation?"

    "How long have we got?"

    "Uh," Bruce pulled back his sleeved and checked his watch, "about an hour."

    The corners of Jackson's lips turned up into a smirk the Grinch would be jealous of as she said, "Loser has to tip." Then she was out of Bruce's grip and grabbing one of the boxes and making a beeline out the door and for the elevator.

    Six boxes put into a moving truck later, it ended up being a tie with five minutes to spare.

    "Would it be cheap to split the tip since we're already splitting the bill?" Jackson turned to Bruce as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. "We could just tip the same amount, right? Make a waiter's night."

    "Or I could just tip the entire meal," Bruce suggested, shrugging. "It wouldn't hurt."

    "I mean, we looked at the menu beforehand and I already did the math in my head so tipping a little extra wouldn't be so bad."

    Bruce rose from the edge of Jackson's bed and walked over to her. Gently taking her in at the waist again, he said, "I truly am lucky to have you, birdie."

    "And I am truly lucky to have you, Bruce. I still need a nickname for you."

    "You don't have to worry about that."

    "You're right. It'll just come to me."

Dinner was going wonderfully for the two of them. They already knew what they wanted so it was just smooth sailing from there on out.

    "You really have a knack for finding good places," Jackson complimented, taking a swig of her wine as she took a look around the establishment. The restaurant was dimly lit to insinuate a romantic air and a similar candle was placed in between the two of them on the table. "You've gotta give yourself a pat on the back for this one."

    "Well, when you've got the best, they deserve the best."

    Jackson's cheeks began to flush as she hid behind her wine glass at the compliment. "I don't think I'm ever gonna get used to your complimenting me."

    "Well, you better get used to it, Jackson, because there will be more where that came from."

     "All right, Batman."

    Bruce's brow rose at that, his mouth pulling back into a humorous smirk. Jackson shook her head. "No. It's clever, but it doesn't sound right. I will keep it as a gag, though."

     "You don't have to give me a nickname, you know," Bruce spoke, "I'm happy enough without one."

    "I know, but I want to give you one. I still need to think about it, apparently. But it will come to me."

    Bruce smiled. "I have no doubt that you'll find one."

Dinner was fantastic and Jackson could still taste the decadent chocolate dessert on her tongue. She and Bruce ended up splitting the bill and tipping the same amount twice before leaving hand in hand and taking a walk around the block.

    "New York is so pretty at night," Jackson commented, looking up and around at the sky and all of the lit-up buildings, "too bad you can't see the stars due to all of the damn light pollution. It would've all been so breathtaking. So magical."

    "Yeah, it's a shame," Bruce concurred, turning to look at Jackson, who was still staring at the starless night sky. He looked up to where she was looking, as well, and found her staring a little past the Empire State Building, right where the giant hole had been that had let out all of the Chitauri soldiers to wreak havoc on the city. It had only been a week since the incident so parts of New York were still in shambles.

   "I find myself looking at the spot where the hole had been everywhere I go, and kinda. . .freeze up," Jackson spoke up before turning to look at Bruce, "knowing what came out of the sky honestly still scares me. It opens a door to a whole bunch of possibilities of what could be up there, and this is coming from a Star Wars fan."

    Bruce reached for her hand and intertwined it with his, squeezing once. Jackson smiled and squeezed back. That was all she needed to bring herself back down and ground her, because she'd get stuck in her head sometimes, thinking about multiple things that could possibly connect to Loki and his army and then it would lead her down mental rabbit holes trying to connect to the dots. All it took was a squeeze of Bruce's hand to let her know it was all okay and that she had nothing to worry about from here on out.

"Dinner was lovely," Jackson complimented Bruce as the two arrived at her apartment. "I don't think I told you that throughout the entire night." She began to dig around for her key and opened the door. "Want a glass before you leave?"

    "We had an entire bottle at the restaurant." Bruce couldn't help but laugh. Jackson smiled. "Yeah, but we're superhuman, we can't get drunk. Don't worry, you'll still be able to walk a straight line, Doc."

    Jackson remembered to leave her key on the hook by the door—as it was the last time she'd be in this apartment—so she wouldn't have to dig for it tomorrow. "I think I have a bottle from Tony in here somewhere," she said as she sifted through her wine cooler, "something along the lines of a 'Congrats on Not Dying' present or something like that."

    "Save it for your new apartment," Bruce suggested, taking a seat at the island. Jackson shook her head, already unwrapping the foil around the cork. "Tonight we celebrate my leaving this hellhole. And I'm pretty sure Tony would send another as a housewarming gift." She then yanked the cork straight out of the bottle just because she could. She brought over two glasses and filled them a healthy amount. "To a fantastic first date and a final night in a terrible apartment."

    "Right back atcha." Bruce clinked his glass against hers.

AUTHOR'S NOTE
welcome to act ii of jack of all trades !!
apologies for the late update, i spent most of the time looking for faceclaims that accurately portray wanda and pietro maximoff
n.e. way, i hope you enjoyed the chapter !!