(is this helpful?) word count: 9743
me: posting this and dipping

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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄 1.2: Partner-In-Crisis

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ─ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

𝟏𝟔 𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟕

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

☆

People cherished innocence because of how easily the virtue could be lost, and most tragically, the cause was usually not by one's own hand. For most of Steve Rogers' life, his innocence was just a means of his own making. He never had parents who taught him what morals were. The closest thing that ever came to such a thing was Bucky Barnes' family members, and even then, he still felt like an invasion to their routine life. He had to build his own understanding of life from scratch. With history books reciting his story as a notable historical figure and not a person, not much felt his own anymore. Not his name. Not his life.

But one thing was his.

Emily Culver entered his life without his permission, but she never felt like an invasion. Instead, she presented a different path for him, one where he was just Steve. Just Neighbor Steve. But the choice had truly been made when he found out that Emily Culver didn't exist, and the tiny tempered, stubborn, brown-eyed little girl had a different name: Elizabeth Jay Carter. Whether the former thirteen-year-old girl knew it at the time, she gave him the only thing he had left to himself. A life of being just Neighbor Steve, one that was not written about by anyone or shared without his permission, with a family his heart always found its way back to somehow.

But thirteen-year-old Lizzie Carter turned into sixteen-year-old MJ. Somehow a distant reflection of who he met back in D.C., but forever the same to him. Steve truly understand for the first time in nearly a hundred years what it looked like to see innocence ripped from someone. Someone he loved. A hardness wrapped itself around her nowadays, unyielding to anyone or anything, and while stubbornness had always been a trait of hers...anger festered deeper underneath. Haunted by what she would never speak about. Steve worried every day about her physical health, but he worried every second about MJ's mental health. He saw the beginnings of the trauma that haunted his best friend, and that was not a battle he could go into swinging for either of them. Not this time.

He tried to remember that she was almost an adult, no longer a child who pestered with endearment and comforted without question. While her driving lessons had been temporarily paused due to her shoulder (thank God), he also had to accept that she was just growing up. She may have grown an extra inch, but he couldn't tell. Her ability to fight had improved with age, though she had been temporarily paused (he hoped) on that as well. With dark, brown hair replacing the previous light, she reminded him an awful lot of Peggy. The thought of the woman stitched a hole into his side. His last promise to the woman was that he would protect their family—that he would protect her—and he failed.

"I think life has been trying to tell you for too many years that you were always a part of our family, Steve," she told him like they were words she'd considered for many years, and even those were the best thing he could have heard simply because Peggy was having a good day. That had been the day he asked her for permission to see Sharon Carter, long before their story became complicated. "You and Sharon will create a beautiful life with MJ. I had mine. I know my girls can handle themselves, but...you keep them safe for me."

Like glass, he shattered that family and his promise to Peggy, and there was nothing he could do to repair the damage. The splinters were too large and had been separated by too much time. Steve didn't know where Sharon was—the last hope he had was in England, and he couldn't tell MJ that it was another shot-in-the-dark. After her recovery, he would have to leave her again—the three of them in a never-ending loop of never meeting, and seeing what had happened to her in the three months he was gone...Sam would have to drag him out of the door this time.

Steve stood up with a wince, pulled out of his thoughts when the jet landed. Natasha sent a thumbs-up from the front seat, and then her head turned back to look in the cockpit. Lizzie slept most of the ride, having been prepared the moment Steve said it would take a few hours with a blanket and pillow on the ready. Traveling for softball built in an ability to sleep anywhere—no spy skill to it—but the exhaustion over the last few weeks of P.T. and school and making sure Peter didn't die every minute of every day led to a hard crash.

If anyone could wake Lizzie out of a slumber without triggering her, it was Steve. He'd grown so accustomed to it when she lived with him and Sharon at the Brooklyn apartment after D.C., and most nights he and Sharon would take turns sleeping in the hallway outside her locked door just in case she had a nightmare. His hands were gentle on her good arm, pressing gently but firmly against the material of her hoodie.

"Lizzie," he muttered quietly, and her eyes fluttered open shortly after her name was called. A sharp inhale, and hands were rushing to pull the headphones out of her ears. Steve hated seeing her brown eyes fearful and confused—then they went in a series of rapid movements, to his arm and then to his face, and then to her surroundings. "We just landed. We're here for your shoulder procedure, remember?"

Her hands reached up to her neck unconsciously, and the piece she'd been looking for was blocked by her clothing. But still, she could feel its indention and that was enough. Rubbing her bleary eyes with her fists and yawning, she nodded in response to his words. Steve grabbed her backpack when she sat up, staring at the jet wall to gather her bearings, then she stood. Steve purposefully turned his head, avoiding the painful grimace that twisted apart the teen's face. A hot, crackling pain struck like lightning through her shoulder, and Lizzie squeezed her eyes tightly together. One more day.

Steve and her waited until Natasha opened the jet's door, and that was when Lizzie finally took in the full appearance of her supposed-doctor's office. Wakanda was not unknown to her, but its beauty was. Without having ever seen the place, a warmth spread in her heart at all of the nature and life that remained untouched by the rest of the world. A building that was structurally beautiful and seemingly-strong to her, and she knew little about construction, was the opening sight. The dots were then connected by the sixteen-year-old when she saw who was waiting only a few feet away from the landing station.

Lizzie hissed through her teeth at Steve, yanking on his arm as subtly as she could when they started to walk down the ramp and toward the individuals. "I'm going to kill you. You didn't tell me we were meeting royalty—!"

"Would you have come?" he looked down at her with raised brows.

"Of course not! Look what I'm wearing, Steven!"

The use of his legal name cracked the stoic face of Steve Rogers, and he beamed down at the sixteen-year-old. With him not being in his uniform, he was more himself to Lizzie. More Neighbor Steve. His beard had been shaved, and being that they were in a land (thankfully) untouched by the rest of society, he didn't need to hide. Not here. That freedom cast an aura around how Steve held himself in Wakanda—not Captain America, here for a mission, but simply Steve Rogers in desperate need of someone to help his kid.

They approached slowly, and Lizzie could barely take anything in as the people became less of blurry figures and more of elegant, literal royalty. The leggings and oversized hoodie made her want to throw herself off the highest perch within immediate distance. Though she wasn't sure on the technicalities of getting past the army of beautiful women with lethal spears, and the whole overprotective super-soldier thing.

Oh, and her obliterated shoulder.

(So maybe she had no out here).

"Hello, Your Highness," came bashfully out of Lizzie's mouth when they approached, shy under the presence of the man not in his uniform or posing a threat to her family. Now, she had to face the reality that he was a King, and she shot an arrow at him in Berlin. Her usual cadence and mannerisms fell flat, unaware of how to proceed next. T'Challa only seemed endeared by the action, as the sixteen-year-old echoed a reflection of his sister.

T'Challa smiled warmly her way, tilting his head to the side so he could peek around Steve's physical barrier. "Hello, brave one. It is nice to finally meet you. You can just call me T'Challa."

"I'm Lizzie...it's nice to meet you, T'Challa," she answered kindly, and then she paused. With a grimace, her fingers tightened around Steve's sleeve. "I'm really sorry about shooting an arrow at you."

"Why are you sorry? It was a good shot."

Steve took over the greeting to her relief, nodding once at T'Challa before he tugged Lizzie to stand in full view. She shuffled next to him, the full exposure of her shoulder and the sling on display to the King and all of his warriors. Lizzie felt little, defeated, like the injuries she had to come heal were small in comparison to what these women had experienced—but one of them broke command. Her eyes peered slowly from their designated forward position, and they met with hers. In them was a fierce soul full of compassion. A kind, reassuring smile tipped her lip before she resumed her forward gaze ahead. Lizzie would later find her name to be Okoye.

"Let me show you to the lab. My sister has already received and examined the X-Rays. She has prepared for the procedure, should you agree with it, of course," T'Challa explained, and then he turned on his heel and began walking. Lizzie took the opportunity to shoot a worried look at Steve, gripping his hand until hers felt numb, then the followed along. T'Challa continued speaking. "She is excited for this. You have given her too many gifts lately, Captain Rogers...she wants to share more of what she believes will advance the technology and medicine of today."

"I don't mean to be rude, sir..." she began, wincing as she peered anxiously up at Steve again. T'Challa smiled over at his shoulder, and they continued through the hallways. That was when she started to realize what he meant, and her next thoughts came as her wide-eyes inspected the technology around her. "But why are you remaining so hidden? Not that I don't understand how bad the rest of the world is, but...I mean, this is..."

Lizzie couldn't even figure out the right words to articulate what she was seeing. Whatever understanding she had of what Wakanda produced (which was small and limited to Steve's vibranium shield and Bucky Barnes' temporary vacation) was only a small percentage.

T'Challa nodded to himself, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked around as well. "Yes. I agree. Our ways were not always like this...but that was before perspectives changed. Wakanda will open its doors to the rest of the world, slowly—as you said, Lizzie, the world can be bad. I intend to try and make it better."

There came the immediate guilt at the reminder she'd shot an arrow at the man. While Lizzie had met many people in her life (and some were not as kind as the next), T'Challa did not radiate any deception. What she saw of him was all that he was, and it was that quality in a man she'd known for less than thirty minutes, that told her Wakanda was safe in his hands. The quality also explained why Steve Rogers got along so well with him now, despite the two being at odds in the beginning.

The memory of the events in the Berlin and her participation reminded her of what fueled T'Challa's engagement with the Avengers in the first place. Without thinking about the fact that the was a king, her hand reached out comfortingly to briefly touch his arm. "T'Challa? I'm sorry about your father."

His eyes met hers before they entered into the lab, kindness exuding in his stare that prompted a feeling of calm. "Thank you, Lizzie...I'm sorry about your aunt."

The reminder of Aunt Peggy caused an immediate lump to form in her throat, leaving her unable to verbally say anything more. Instead, she nodded in appreciation and ducked her head. T'Challa took that as his sign to continue through the facilities, and his lead allowed Steve a second to check on MJ. Moving his steps closer to hers, he was grateful her right shoulder was on the opposite side, giving him the chance to bump into her side and catch her attention.

Lizzie's head rose to look at him, and his brows shot up in a silent question. Glancing at the back of T'Challa, she turned her brown eyes back to Steve's to give him a nod. She was okay. Lizzie had learned over the years grief never disappeared, and moments fell short of perfect without her Aunt Peggy there anymore, but it no longer consumed her. Part of her felt guilty, she supposed. The grief of her aunt blurred and mixed with the grief of losing her sister, and Steve, and everyone else all in a matter of days—now, years later, she wasn't sure she could separate the pieces of her grief that belonged only to Aunt Peggy.

And for that, she hated herself.

They entered a bright room that looked very much like something she would expect to see on an expensive Grey's Anatomy episode, and she contained the surge of excitement that thrilled to her bones when she noticed the slew of equipment in arm's reach. T'Challa guided them over to where a teenage girl sat at a work station, a hologram in front of her that she would recognize anywhere—her X-rays. "Lizzie...this is my sister, Shuri. Shuri, this is the owner of the shoulder you have been studying for the last week, Lizzie."

The teenage girl looked at her with pursed lips, but a teasing grin tilted the ends just enough for Lizzie to notice it. "Your shoulder is incredibly broken."

"Good thing I've got two, right?" she reminded her, smiling curiously at the girl and squinting her eyes. They were trying to figure the other out, in a way that bordered teenage-girls-meeting-for-the-first-time and doctor-and-patient-first-visit. Weird dynamic. Lizzie stopped when she remembered her title, clearing her throat and nodding. "It's nice to meet you, Princess."

"Oh, she called me 'Princess'!" Shuri exclaimed suddenly to T'Challa, hitting his elbow. "I like her!"

T'Challa and Steve shared mirrored expressions like they had been gossiping for hours about the teenagers prior to them meeting, and had predicted a reaction like so. "I think the two of you will get along fine. I believe Steve told me that Lizzie goes to a science and technology school, Shuri. You can show her around the lab before we fix her shoulder. The procedure shouldn't take too long. We have a place set up for you not far from Shuri's room until you feel well enough to travel. The recovery is always the longer road, though I believe you know that, too."

That made her adjust the weight off her bad leg, taking in the information that only seemed new to her. "You could say that. I just...I don't mean to sound rude or ungrateful, I'm just confused. What is the procedure we are talking about here? Steve didn't tell me anything. I know that my shoulder needs to be put back together still, but...you're saying fix my shoulder. Like fix fix?"

"Whoever worked on it before needs to find a new occupation," Shuri said, and all eyes were on her. Lizzie's mattered most, and the teenage girls matched one another's gaze like they had not just met minutes ago. Like they had been friends for years. "Yes. I can fix your shoulder. It will be easy...but unfortunately, we will have to re-insert and reconstruct the parts of your shoulder that are completely dead, cartilage and all...it looks like we need to use a plate as well, but I can assure you that vibranium is the best material for this. There will be no complications, and it is entirely safe to use in surgical procedures."

Lizzie stared at the teenage girl, expressionless. "You're putting vibranium in my arm."

"I'll make sure there are no more scars. Maybe you can get a tattoo," much to Steve's grimace at the thought, and MJ whose lip quirked at the suggestion. "Those are fun. Besides...arms have become my specialty as of late."

Shuri had been the one to operate on Bucky Barnes, that much could be assumed from her last statement. Lizzie chewed down on her bottom lip when she noticed that all pairs of eyes were on her, likely trying to interpret what her reaction was to the news. Like she knew. Her heart thumped in her chest, instantly feeling guilty for not having the reaction of excitement that was expected from her. Before the princess could grow insecure, she jumped ahead of her fears and forced a smile at the teenage girl.

"Thank you, Princess."

"Just Shuri," the girl corrected, but then she paused and winked. "Now let's get you better."

Unfortunately, Lizzie could not tell Shuri there was more broken in her than just her shoulder.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

Having been sat down with the sixteen-year-old (which did not bother Lizzie as much as Steve must have been bothered by it in the beginning) princess to explain the procedures down to the number of ice cubes in her water, Lizzie couldn't put a finger on how she felt. Though she had no doubts in what Shuri could promise considering the technology surrounding her, she had doubts in her own body. Nothing about her shoulder would ever be the same. It wouldn't move the same way, wouldn't operate the same way—and she swallowed the nausea at the thought of softball and archery. Lizzie knew her own body for thirteen years, but again, she had to relearn it. And it was never the same.

She would never be the same.

Sitting on the operation table, much more comfortable than expected, she kicked her legs back and forth as she watched Steve and T'Challa finish speaking. Her parents were called an hour before the procedure was going to start, a large screen projecting of them shoved together on her Ma's laptop in the dining room, and Lizzie had to force out her goodbye to them (after Sophia's not-so-subtle glare to Steve when she said "update me" like it was a death threat). Steve moved back to her not longer after, already eyeing her up to assume her mental status as she prepared for the surgery. Lizzie hated when he did that.

"Are you going to be okay?" he muttered, his head ducked low and body blocking her from anyone else in the room.

Lizzie nodded despite the stirring in her gut, swallowing hard. "I'll be fine. Just...just don't go too far, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. I'll be right outside. Updating your Ma every second."

"Smart man," she said with a heavy sigh. Then she looked over at Shuri, who was speaking with the nurses who had all gone around to introduce themselves (and Lizzie almost cried at how nice everyone was) before beginning anything to make sure she was comfortable. Apparently, her anxiety was impacting the entire room. "I'll see you on the other side, loser."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Don't talk like that."

"I'm just kidding. I'm fine. You can stop hovering...I'll see you whenever my shoulder is fixed," and that was the first time she had fully said those words out loud since she was told about the procedure. They felt stale on her tongue. Hopefully, Steve didn't notice. Peering up at him, she pushed her mouth to one side and then smiled at him. "I love you."

No amount of time could separate the depth behind those words, and Steve could feel them in his heart when he heard it. He felt it the same when he said the same back. "I love you, too, MJ. I'll talk to you in a little bit. It'll be like five seconds for you."

"Fifteen, actually, but you probably won't make it to zero," Shuri said as she walked over to them with a smile, and Lizzie sat up straighter under her presence. Steve took that as his cue to leave, pressing a kiss to MJ's head before he was escorted out of the room by Okoye. Shuri returned her attention to her, confidence tipping her chin up. "There's no need to be nervous, Miss Carter."

Lizzie's nose wrinkled at the name. "Please call me Lizzie, Princess."

"So, will you call me Shuri then? You had no trouble calling my brother by his name when he asked, and he is the King," the teenage girl asked in rebuttal with raised brows, and that garnered silence out of Lizzie. She sat there tight-lipped, brown eyes mischievous as they noticed the gleam of amusement starting to flash in the princess's. Princess Shuri nodded, sighing. "Well...I guess I will have to tell my brother that my patient is being uncooperative—"

"You wouldn't."

"I would," Shuri all but tempted her with a conniving smirk, and the response to the quick wit was met with its match of Lizzie Carter narrowing her eyes. "You didn't call me princess that time."

Neither one of them were willing to break first, but Lizzie knew she didn't have the upper hand. She raised her left arm in a gesture of good will, smiling over at the princess and holding her hand out. Shuri's brow arched, and she stared at the exchange in contemplation before she put her hand in Lizzie's to shake it. The action was a trap, and Shuri had unknowingly walked into the dangerous haze that was Lizzie Carter being Lizzie Carter. Tugging her over without any effort, Lizzie kissed her hand in a polite gesture of her status, then she met eyes with a stunned princess. Her mouth slipped into a smirk.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness."

"You are worse than the other!" Shuri said to her, baffled.

"The other?" Lizzie's playful expression cast downward as she read in between the lines, the smile now just a shadow on her features. Her heart tugged, thinking about the only other person Shuri would compare her to. The same person who had a shoulder injury (and trauma) in need of help. "You mean Bucky."

Shuri's mouth twisted to the side and she moved over to the holographic board to the right of where the procedure would be done. X-rays of her shoulder glared at her. "He was quite charming to Okoye when they were introduced a second time. Almost as charming as you. Americans."

That surprised Lizzie, but she remembered he was Bucky when he arrived in Wakanda. Not the Winter Soldier any longer.

"How is he?" she asked quietly, wondering to herself if she even wanted the answer. Lizzie hadn't asked Steve. Picking at nonexistent lent on her leggings, the connection she felt to Bucky Barnes hadn't faded just because his dog-tags were rightfully returned. His presence lingered underneath their old space where her heart rested. "Is he..."

"We are working to get him well. He deserves that."

Whether Shuri knew it or not, those were the only words she needed to say for all hesitancy and nerves to dissipate. Lizzie's fingers uncurled from the ball they'd unknowingly found themselves in as she tried to find the right question—or the right words—to say next to the princess. Before Lizzie could muster up any semblance of appreciation, Shuri beat her to the next question. Hopping up on the counter, which Lizzie chose to assume would be sanitized, every movement was watched with calculation.

"You deserve that, too," Shuri told her factually.

The statement drew her away, and Lizzie physically leaned her body away from it and curled her lip in disagreement. "You don't even know me, Princess."

"Medical records give you a timeline, physically at least. The Internet can do the rest...and whatever else you have experienced, that's not my information to know."

"That's a lot of missing information about a person."

Shuri shrugged, and Lizzie found herself realizing that the teenage girl shared a number of personality traits with her partner. Much like Peter, an innocence exuded out of Shuri that expressed empathy and compassion—under all circumstances—but only because some part of their stories were written in pain. Everyone lost someone, but for Peter and Shuri, they lost their parent. For Peter, more than one. Lizzie suddenly wished Peter were there in that moment, if only to occupy the empty space between silence where she knew he flourished best. Him and Shuri could have a conversation for hours about everything in the laboratory.

"Can I ask you a question?" Lizzie couldn't even predict what that might be. Expecting the worst and hoping a lie was not born, she nodded and clenched her jaw tightly. "Your softball number. Why did you choose number three?"

Talk about a curve-ball.

Lizzie's face must have shown her surprise because Shuri's nose wrinkled up like she regret asking. However, the older of the two girls quickly answered the princess's question. "It was the number I picked when I was an associate for S.H.I.E.L.D....and I picked three because of my family. My grandpa, great uncle, and Aunt Peggy were a set of three. My little brother hadn't been born yet at the time, but little did I know I'd make a set of three with my siblings too. My sister and aunt were both Agent Thirteen. I wanted to keep the three for that, too....y'know, no one has ever asked me that—I mean, and I've been able to actually tell them."

"Thank you for telling me, Lizzie."

"Thank you for fixing my shoulder, Princess."

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

𝟎𝟏 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟕

One thing that had been noticeably missed at Midtown School of Science and Technology was Lizzie Carter. While the girl tried not to take up too much space within the hallways of the school, the last few months without her being around caused a lot of questions from people she'd interacted with throughout the years. People cared about her. Lizzie's three closest friends—Art, Eli, and Taylor—usually got the most questions, from what Peter knew. They didn't sit together at lunch, even despite the friendship bonding between Ned and Art on the side, so most of the conversation between Peter and Taylor happened through them. From what he knew, Taylor had nearly killed C.T. Clemins, Lizzie's ex-girlfriend, at practice sometime last week according to Ned, so people were on the fence about approaching the girl now-a-days.

The questions about Lizzie moved in his direction when everyone found out that he was the student aide bringing her assignments. He'd gotten a lot of questions when he had no clean laundry and the only option was the grey hoodie with a very large, very obvious 'CARTER' on the back with Lizzie's softball number '3'. When it happened again on accident, people asked a few more questions. By the third time around, the only person who made any faces toward the hoodie were two halves of a set: Taylor and Ned, the latter of who was looking at Peter with an expression that could have made a genius feel dimwitted.

"Dude."

Peter turned back to face Ned, blinking. "What?"

"Dude," was the answer repeated back to him, his best friend maintaining a particular tilt of the head toward the hoodie that screamed 'YOU IDIOT' without any more words said. Peter connected the dots, and his reaction was to roll his eyes. That only furthered Ned's decision to continue. "You're so stupid. Like so, so, so stupid—"

"Not cool, man. How am I stupid?" Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes with his palms in hopes it would dissolve the dark circles. But also to purposefully avoid eye contact with Ned. "It's just a hoodie, man. I have it set aside to give back to her, and I keep forgetting, and it's the only piece of clean laundry I've got right now—"

"Seriously? You're going to make me say it out loud?" Ned interjected before Peter could escape the conversation with an excuse. Ned remained baffled by the boy's ability to see nothing happening between himself and the teenage girl, despite everyone else being hinted to the idea. "The two of you are literally married, Peter. You spend all your time together, bicker like an old couple—"

"Funny. Ha-Ha. Another joke about our assignment freshman year—"

"—dude, shut up. I'm not talking about freshman year. She barely noticed you freshman year. I'm talking about last six months. Peter...I'm sorry, but you're whipped. Not saying it's a bad thing because, I mean, it's Lizzie—"

"—yeah, exactly. It's Lizzie, Ned."

Peter's emphasis of the same name, but in a different connotation, told Ned what he didn't feel like explaining for the thousandth time. Ned obviously wanted to continue that conversation for and top it at a thousand-and-one, but he stopped himself to stare at Peter, hopeless. "Fine. You make your own mistakes. When I'm right, I can just mention it in my speech at the wedding."

"We're not getting married!" Peter dismissed sharply, wincing when his voice carried and got some questionable looks in return from people passing by with their lunch trays. Michelle Jones was the one who smirked when she heard it, and that made him grumble and shuffle closer to Ned. "Look, her and Taylor have been trying to find me a girlfriend. There's nothing romantic happening between us. I don't see her like that...besides, it's kind of hard not to become familiar with someone when you literally cleaned their gross bandages for weeks."

Ned grimaced at the image. "Um, gross. That's something you only do for someone you love."

"Ned, please, shut up."

"Dude, it's fine. You guys are just...totally like Han Solo and Leia. You know, super slow-burn and you fight all the time over small stuff, but everyone can see you really want to f—" Peter Parker abruptly got up from his seat, collecting his tray, and Ned stared baffled at his best friend leaving out of the cafeteria door. There was a short, but present pause in the air before Ned Leeds turned to look further down the lunch table at Michelle Jones. "He totally likes her, right?"

Michelle Jones squinted at the question. "Who knows?"

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐘 ─ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘
𝟎𝟗 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟕

"Lizzie, this is seriously the best birthday present anyone has ever given me."

Lizzie grinned at Ned as he stared around the New Avengers Institute in awe, seated on the back of the couch for a front-row seat of his reaction. Art sat next to her, grinning as well. "I can't take all the credit. You should ask Peter what's next 'cause it gets better."

"How could it possibly get better?"

"Lizzie finally agreed to watch Star Wars with us," Peter revealed, the big news being his idea for his best friend's birthday. Lizzie's attendance was mandatory, unfortunately. "All three of the originals."

Her excitement suddenly transformed into dread, and a sarcastic "Yay!" came out of her mouth that was then followed by a smug smirk from Peter. Most of the night had been planned out by him, save for the idea to bring the Star Wars movie-night to the Avengers Facility instead of the small Parker living room (not that she didn't love Aunt May's couch). Ned Leeds had barely been able to contain his disbelief when he appeared in front of the New Avengers Facility, having been blindfolded for the drive there, and after an hour looking at every thing in every door Lizzie allowed him to—which was just a lot of closets—they ended up back at Lizzie's 'wing' in the facility. Watching Star Wars. Her worst nightmare had come to life as Ned's best birthday to date. 

Spending time with her friends was the best thing for her at the moment. In a few weeks, she would be able to return back full-time to Midtown, which meant moving out of the Avengers Institute. Her shoulder only needed physical therapy once a week, and that could be done in a gym or her own apartment in Brooklyn. Lizzie missed home. So, she supposed her last few weeks would be spent soaking in the time she had living in the Avengers Facility.

When they got positioned for the long marathon, set up with popcorn and snacks galore on the table in front of them, Art and Ned shared an unnoticed look when Lizzie and Peter naturally sat next to one another without a second thought. The reality was not as cute. Lizzie fully prepared to bug the ever-living shit out of her partner the entire time with questions, especially since she knew it would (1) piss him off, and (2) she knew nothing—well, that wasn't true. She knew names, that there was a large animal named Chewbacca who made a distinct sound, and little furry babies in a forest, and that Padme meant enough to Peter to name their petunia after her.

Cue the onset of questions for the next few hours from a very confused Lizzie Carter: "Wait, how many movies are there? Because if there's more than five, I'm not doing that. The only movie series I'll sit down and watch like that is Harry Potter, and even that's a 'dead-with-the-flu' kind of thing."

"One, Star Wars is so much better than Harry Potter. Don't compare. Two, there's the original three movies, but technically, they are the third, fourth and fifth in chronological order. The first one was made in the late seventies," Ned answered like it was a Decathlon answer, the question loud enough for him to hear as he pressed play. "Then there are the prequels, and they are still releasing new movies, but there's also a few TV shows—"

Lizzie blanched at the material being listed off by the boy, imagining the torture that revolved around being forced to watch everything Star Wars related for years to come. With that came the rotation of answers from the Star Wars fanatics to the unimpressed teenage girl. Halfway through the first movie, the only person who could tell how little Lizzie Carter was enjoying herself was Peter Parker, and he had become the sole provider of answers. With their heads tilted in the same direction to hear better over the movie, Lizzie and Peter muttered under the sounds to each other. Not that Ned cared since his point was being proven from earlier that month about the pair, and Arthur was too busy reciting the most recent line by Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Leia is hot," seemed like a good review of the movie.

Peter's hand went up to bump knuckles with her. "Word. Wait until you see Padme."

"So, the big floating ball-ship is the Death Star?" she asked with a yawn, pointing at the spherical-looking thing when it came up. A thought dawned on her, and she turned to Peter. "Didn't you guys built that lego set that was the Death Star?"

Peter somehow felt like the hugest nerd, while simultaneously touched that Lizzie had remembered such a small detail. He nodded, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "It can blow up planets."

"Oh, shit."

"Cool, right?"

She twisted her lips to the side as she considered the information, continuing to read the dialogue on the closed-captions with half-interest. "I think I enjoy the psychology behind Voldemort more—"

"—there's so much more back-story. Wait 'til you find out who Luke's father is. That's movie two."

"Spoiler: it's Darth Vader," and her knowledge of the name made Peter's eyes light up in surprise. Lizzie sent him a look of disappointment. "I don't live under a rock. I know the line, Parker."

"There's so much more to it, though. You're so lucky. You're going in blind. You get to experience all of this for the first time."

Lizzie sighed. "Two more movies, right?"

"I can't believe you. These movies changed my life," Peter pointed the screen, appalled by her behavior and eagerness to be done with the experience. "You just have to wait. You're only, like, an hour into this world. There's a sunset in every movie, and it was my screensaver for two years."

"I respect that," she waved off. "It's just not my—"

"Can you two shut the hell up?" Art hissed out loud enough that he could be heard, glaring from the recliner that was set up next to the coffee table. "You're louder than they are."

Lizzie flicked the boy off, making sure to keep her middle finger up long enough for him to see it fully. "You could write the transcript of the whole series off the top of your head, Art."

"Maybe so, but your voice is still annoying."

"Good comeback," she threw out with a sour face, and he sent one back in a childish response that made both of them grin after a moment. Then, Lizzie turned to see that Ned Leeds had been beaming from ear-to-ear as he watched the interaction. From the moment he arrived, the smile had not been erased from his face. If there was one thing Lizzie could do, it was suffer through Star Wars just to see Ned happy with his friends surrounded by what he loved most.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐘 ─ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝟏𝟕 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟕

"What about that one girl in gym class, Hallie—"

"She bullied me all eighth grade."

Lizzie sat up, glaring. "What? Why?"

"We didn't really get around to the deep questions on what plagued her internal psychè, MJ," and the look returned made her roll her eyes, huffing at the knowledge. "You do realize I've spent ninety-nine percent of my life being bullied, and that's a lot of people to get revenge on?"

"It's not revenge. It just pisses me off."

"M'kay. That's a lot of people to be pissed off at."

With the TV mounted on the wall directly across from her bed now asking if she was still watching Netflix, the time of night was catching up to the two teenagers. Peter Parker had come to the New Avengers Facility sometime around eleven p.m., promising his Aunt May that he would spend the night there and receive a ride to school from Happy, but he hadn't told her about the bruises decorating his ribs. He had a shiner, pretty good one too according to Lizzie. Being hit in the face wasn't as difficult to handle, but the ribs made breathing and moving and existing hard.

One of those moments happened just then, and he hissed out a heavy breath when a stitch of pain sparked up his side, realizing that it only hurt more to breathe and decided he'd die of self-suffocation before ever inhaling again. Lizzie's head shot up from her laptop at the sound, and a straight-line set on her lips in discontent. When the wave passed, he expelled the breath and rolled over on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"On the bright side, you'll heal in a few days," she reminded him.

Peter scoffed. "And get them again in a few more."

"Mm," she hummed, and then she threw the remote his way, knowing to her annoyance he would catch it. Like deja-vü, he did just as she predicted and the frown deepened. "What's going on?"

"I just...now that your shoulder is healed, do you..." he paused, and in that brief intermission, Lizzie could gather where he was headed with the conversation. At the mention of her right shoulder, she shrugged it. Only mild pain circulated around the rotator cuff, but Shuri assured her that it would go away with the swelling in a few more weeks. "Do you think you'll want to start training again?"

How he phrased the question was smart, and her brow raised. "Start training? Yes. I'm just waiting for the official all-clear from Shuri before I kick your ass. As for the other question you're avoiding...I don't know."

Lizzie wasn't sure when she would be ready to return to a life of what Peter called 'Avenger-ing' which had never really been a life for her. What she knew was how to be a spy, not how to be a hero. That may have been what she learned the most in the absence of them. Three years ago, she had the idea of learning at S.H.I.E.L.D. to be like the Avengers. Three years later, Lizzie Carter was everything a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent embodied, to the core of its rotten foundation. HYDRA had gotten its claws into her all the same.

Peter Parker noticed the silence that overtook the room after her admission, and his head tilted to look in her direction up against the headboard. A faraway gaze took over her brown eyes, biting down on her bottom lip so hard that he wondered if blood had been drawn. The feeling that she was fading away from him made him scoot further up the bed, adjusting so that he was now parallel to her despite the fire running up his abdomen.

His abrupt move broke her thoughts, and she blinked over at him in surprise. "C'mon, MJ. We've gone through the entire sophomore and senior class already. Can we just stop with the hunt for any female that will look my way? This is embarrassing."

"Less names to get through, and it's not embarrassing for you. It just means you're way out of everyone's league, and I want to make sure you get the best you deserve—and while I understand your heterosexuality, I would like to note that if you want to explore other options, that's entirely okay as well." Lizzie's openness to him exploring his sexuality came so casually that, even though Peter had never considered it, he appreciated the sentiment of her immediate acceptance of the possibility. "Okay, onto the juniors. Eli knows some people, and listen, before you get pissy and say anything, I promise Taylor and I aren't scheming together—"

"—you two are always scheming together—"

Offended, again, she rolled her eyes. "Within reason. What about Danica Andrews? She's not on any sports teams. She has a dog, which means she actively takes care of something and can keep it alive unlike you with Padme—"

"—hey!" his arm went out to hit her, and she jutted her jaw out to point a finger at him. Daring him to try, and his defense fell and he glared at her. "I take care of Padme."

"—you don't, but we're not talking about that now. Anyway, she's apparently been talking about how she wants to do better than her four-point-six from last year. Overachiever, I love that. She'll keep you in class since you can't seem to find them anymore. Taylor said she really likes theater, and..." the teenage girl puffed out a breath of air when she got to the end, shaking her head in finality. "...and we're definitely not doing that."

Peter, who had been hearing most of the information shared on the Excel Spreadsheet From Hell by the Terror Twins on his love life, looked up at the abrupt change of mood. "What? What's wrong? Oh, god—did she kill someone?"

"Taylor flagged her and said 'may-or-may not be obsessed with the Avengers...like worse than Art'—and before you try and say anything like 'Oh, she's perfect! She'll love Spider-Man!," Lizzie mimicked Peter, scrunching up her face in the process and making his leg go out to knock into hers with a sneer. He got that one in. "Having a girlfriend who is obsessed with the Avengers when you are literally in the Avengers Facility is the worst decision ever—because that means they want nothing more than for you to be their super-hero, and you want to be their hero and that just equals no—and she's also definitely going to find out because you will tell her within the first ten seconds. So double no."

"I would not!"

"It's okay," she sighed in disappointment over the loss over another name on the list and patted his arm. "Onto the next."

Unfortunately, Peter Parker could never be given the Excel Spreadsheet From Hell by the Terror Twins because (in a gag that Taylor made sure to highlight in bright yellow) at the very top of the spreadsheet was a biography Taylor Brentwell had created on Lizzie Carter. Pushing the growing-comment from her best friend that something was going on between her and Peter that wasn't totally platonic (not true) and Lizzie was 'perfect for him'. Despite the number of times Lizzie tried deleting it from the spreadsheet, Taylor proved her father may be Satan himself by adding it back every time.

"Oh! Hey, there's this girl that was in some of my competitions. She lost her dad a few years ago. Her mom has a really nice—like super expensive, Peter, I swear—penthouse that's like right across from the old Avengers Tower. Just very competitive and I kind of hated her back then but it's fine if you like her, you know?"

"What's her name?"

"Kate Bishop."

"Eh. I don't know. You said you didn't like her?"

"Oh, I hated her, but it was irrational because I'm very competitive," Lizzie waved off the hatred like it was a usual thing for her, and he supposed that must be true considering how their friendship started. "I honestly don't know what she's doing now-a-days, but I, ah...I know one of her close friends, Greer."

The hesitation behind the words made Peter's eyes narrow in suspicion, and he looked over at her to try and figure out what was not being said. "How do you know her?"

"We kissed once at a party."

Peter groaned heavily, and Lizzie winced, knowing that the teenage boy hated the reminder of how much 'experience' (as he called it) she had compared to him when it came to relationships and intimacy. "I don't know why you're stressing out so much about things like that—"

"—I've never even had my first kiss, MJ."

"Okay, and that's fine," she assured him, closing her laptop and peering down at him. He didn't look at all convinced, and a crease formed in her brow when she noticed how genuinely upset the situation made him. "Peter, if the girl you end up with has a problem that you're not as 'experienced' as other guys, then she's shallow and shouldn't have been put on the spreadsheet. Taylor and I will delete her."

Delete may have had a different meaning to them than him.

"Easy for you to say," he said under his breath. "You have experience. You don't have to worry about that kind of thing when you meet people. It just sucks. Ned has even had his first kiss."

"Can't compare yourself to others."

Lizzie could see that she was prickling his sensitivity with her attempts to make things better, and so she pressed her lips together in a silent notion to shut herself up. Peter Parker finally took that opportunity to break the uncomfortable therapy session between them that night, glancing at the TV. Then, he tapped on his phone screen and that was his escape plan: 2:05 a.m. glared at him, and their six a.m. wake-up time sounded devastating.

"Alright, putting a hold on the hunt for love," Peter decided with a yawn, and he clutched his side so that he could roll off without hitting any particularly painful spots. Hobbling a few steps, he moved until he was standing at the foot of the bed. When he heard no response from Lizzie, he looked up from the floorboards to her with raised brows. "Night?"

Lizzie got out of bed herself, putting the laptop in the place where he just was, and walked down to the foot of the bed with a frown overtaking her face. Obviously, he had lost her again to her own thoughts—the crease had returned between her eyebrows, the first indication to him that she was off somewhere else—and he watched her arms cross over her chest, a physical barrier as she approached him. He waited, patiently, finding himself standing in that position until she finally looked up at him with clear vision. Like her thoughts had come together, and a decision had been made. Peter watched her arms uncross over her chest, Lizzie Carter returning in full confidence, and he swallowed hard under her piercing stare.

"Peter...do you want me to be your first kiss?"

If Pete had any oxygen left in his lungs, he may have stopped breathing—or short-circuited, or likely died right on the spot—but there was something nagging in his brain that jumped to the front of the line on reactions to such a question. A bitterness that broke through the immediate panic she brought on, and he flexed his jaw while peering down at her.

"I don't want your pity, Lizzie," he told her, dismissively, trying not to let the embarrassment flush up to his neck at the prospect of Lizzie Carter kissing him out of pity.

Lizzie's eyes narrowed at him. "Why do you think it's pity?"

"Because it's literally pity."

"It's not pity, Parker," she cut him off, her brown eyes hardening to a degree that made him shudder. He leaned more in the direction of his unbruised ribs, hoping that would excuse the behavior. In reality, Peter Parker was trying not to have a fucking panic attack. "If I pitied you, I would tell you, but...my first real kiss was with someone who cared about me, and I didn't have to worry about messing up. I'm obviously not going to take that away from you, but...I'm just saying, the offer is there. If it makes you feel any better, I've kissed Taylor and Art?"

Somehow, it didn't.

Peter was faced with one of those plagued thoughts. The ones that he hated, where he stopped seeing his partner as his partner but as an incredibly beautiful teenage girl. Lizzie didn't have an ounce of makeup on, her hair was messed up beyond belief in a bun/ponytail mixture, with a ratty old T-shirt and a pair of shorts he couldn't even see. Nothing special, his brain tried to tell him, but he knew there was a quality so special about Lizzie Carter. Perhaps it had something to do with the safety she provided in her stare, pure and honest understanding of him—and hoping he understood her, too. Which, he did, but the irrational part of him that had spent his life being pitied by others couldn't grapple the kind action of his friend.

Peter did the unexpected, and he nodded his head to her. "Okay."

"Okay?" she repeated to him, and then she looked at him with a frown when she noticed how stiff his body remained despite the confirmation. Lizzie didn't make any steps forward, trying her hardest to read his body language since he was saying nothing. "Peter, we don't have to do this. We can wait until you're ready, with someone you like—"

"—it's not that," he flushed, ducking his head awkwardly. "I don't know what to do with my hands."

Lizzie's heart warmed with endearment at the action, and she took the boy in from top-to-bottom. Curly-haired, bruised, and bashful beyond belief, there were so many incredible traits to the boy that anyone would be lucky to have. Her concern was that no one on the list would be good enough for him—because part of her worried no one else would be as understanding with his first kiss like she was, that he would not be as comfortable or as safe as he was with her considering this was his comfort level now.

Removing the gap between them that should have been left for Jesus, Lizzie moved with an ease and comfort that she hoped transferred onto Peter. Grabbing his hands with hers, she carefully placed them on her hips. Slightly higher than she would put a significant other's, but still fine if he mimicked the action on his...second kiss. His fingers adjusted, gripping the fabric of her shirt more than her actual body, and in all of these robotic actions, Peter never met Lizzie's eyes. She would have to remind him for future notice that he needed to be less like a brick wall, and more like an actual human.

"Peter," she muttered softly, dipping forward and tugging his arm as gently as she could. That prompted him to finally look at her, and the brown looked lighter against the kindness pouring out of them. Underneath it, Lizzie partially understood she had to take control now. "There's nothing to be nervous about, okay?"

Easy for her to fucking say, Peter's internal panic projected as he resisted the urge to hyperventilate. Everything about the girl projected expertise of the situation she was in, and he could feel her body in a way that he really wasn't used to. But the anxiety was taken away again when she gave him a very small, confirmation nod—and he felt safe.

Lizzie leaned in first, and her lips brushed against his. He did nothing. His hands remained glued to where she originally placed them, and he applied no pressure to his mouth. What did he do? Fuck, Peter didn't know. Her lips were soft, he guessed, but—

"Peter."

Lizzie pulled away from the kiss, and one of her hands appeared at eye-level to grab a hold of his chin to direct his attention onto her. That felt different. He swallowed hard, his ears flushing as the internal panic set in over him doing something wrong. Fuck.

But her eyes sold a different story, and her thumb sat just underneath his bottom lip with a grip that kept him in place and staring directly at her. "Stop thinking so much," she instructed him and he could feel the heat of her breath between the centimeters separating them, his body unconsciously leaning in to hers. Brown eyes met a similar set commingled with raw tenderness, and then, Peter's blown pupils slowly inched down to her lips. Her thoughts safe in his mind, another nod, and Lizzie was surprised to find the boy lean in first—chasing her lips this time.

Lizzie closed the remaining distance between them, and rather than focusing on everything he did wrong, Peter only acknowledged that something felt right. The concerns about what he was doing right and wrong faded away. and all that mattered was that moment. His fingers adjust on her hip when her thumb, still on his chin, pulled his bottom lip down in a teasing act. But just like that, it was over. Only a few seconds, but a rush of adrenaline seized Peter to core when he separated from Lizzie and saw her eyelashes flutter open.

Peter Parker just kissed Lizzie freaking Carter.

As though that totally didn't just happen, Lizzie's hand fell from his face and she searched his eyes for any indication of how he was processing things now. Update: he wasn't. Because now that he had had his first kiss, he realized he would have to tell his best friend who.

With Lizzie FUCKING Carter.

"Not bad?" she asked him expectantly, not mentioning how he still had a death grip on her waist right now. Or that his cheeks, ears, neck, and every visible section of the top half of his body flustered red without his consent. None of that mattered, just that he was okay. "Peter?"

"I...right. Not...bad?"

Lizzie smirked at him, taking hold of his shirt on both sides to pull at it jokingly. "There you go, Parker. You've officially had your first kiss. Not so scary, huh? Now, you can be prepared for the love of your life."

Surely, partners did that kind of thing for each other in a crisis.

Right?

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Author's Note:

RUNS AWAY.

Oh, the story trope gender roles reversing makes my heart flutter. Fuck up the algorith a bit.

You guys all guessed the Black Panther cameo. The Behind-The-Scenes chapter gave it away, though. While I wish I could've made it longer, I am *trying* make this feel as much like cameos as possible rather than entire parts (a.k.a. main character Lizzie moment). However, Shuri and Lizzie have officially met, and establishing their friendship & dynamic finally made me CRY.

...and about that ending, idk. Is anyone else scared? I'm scared 👀.

sanktatsaritsa made the CUTEST graphics for NATM!!

Also, big thank you to -theantihero for being the Peter to my MJ in order to get this chapter out. I (much like Lizzie) have not seen Star Wars, so if there is anything wrong or incorrect pardon me and assume it's Lizzie's ignorance via me.