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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄: For The Record

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍 ─ 𝐍𝐘𝐂, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊

𝟏𝟐 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

☆

        Mornings were never quiet in New York City. The rush-hour traffic alone (and the road rage that accompanied it) would set a tourist into cardiac arrest if they got caught in the crossfire. The city was a rip current―the wrong place, at the wrong time, and anyone could be drowned in a sea of strangers. Lizzie always loved the anonymity, but she never needed it. There was never a reason before...or that could have been her naivety. Maybe she was always hiding because of her last name. Only now, she was old enough to understand who she was hiding from. That morning, she blended in with all of the early-risers; but unlike them, it was not an early rise for her. Just a late night.

When Lizzie returned home with Peter Parker escorting (babysitting) her after that day, there was no conversation on if her parents would be informed of the events. Lizzie bit back the memory the same way she did the cool January wind, sniffling her red nose and trying to duck her head further into her drawn hoodie. Running in the winter sucked. Even more now. Unconsciously, her right shoulder rolled, and with that reflex came the strange reminder there wasn't much of the right shoulder that was hers anymore. Bits and pieces of vibranium tickled the nerves still alive.

"I won't say anything," Peter muttered, because breaking the silence meant breaking her temporary peace. Lizzie, to his surprise, didn't flinch when he rested his hand on her right shoulder. Always on her right. "I...Happy's the only person I called..."

Peter Parker gave her a hug goodbye and squeezed tighter when she shuddered back a sob. Lizzie never told her parents, and Peter never brought it up again. Just like Peter never brought up the news being spread around school the day after Halloween that she got into a fight at a party with one of Elijah's teammates. He didn't ask for context, even when Ned pestered her with questions at the cafeteria table because of the black eye she had for two weeks. Her excuse was in defense of Taylor, who didn't seem as convinced. Lizzie wished that meant Peter stopped noticing, but just because he didn't say things, didn't mean he didn't know about them.

The New Year was filled with stress over midterms, and the spring sports conditions underway. Even though she wasn't playing softball anymore, her body couldn't break the routine. Music played in her one headphone, strategically tucked underneath her hood to avoid falling out. Today's playlist consisted of music that would make her mother faint, but it faded when she heard a slight disruption in the usual bustle of noise on the street. A yell, along with a bike bell, followed with a panicked apology from a voice that sounded far too familiar.

Ahead was a mishap of a cyclist nearly crashing into a flying object hurtling into their path. Lizzie sighed loudly and turned back around, looking to find the first abandoned-and-not-utterly horrifying alleyway near her. When her location had been found, she walked in that direction and made no attempt to engage with the local hero.

Spider-Man appeared from above only a few seconds later, landing on his feet with an impressive finish. When the girl in front of him had no reaction, he ducked his head before standing up to full height and pulling his mask off. Peter Parker stood in front of her with a freshly-bruised eye, a laceration also splitting his brow suggesting the person was wearing a ring. He didn't miss her immediate interest in the new injury and tried to figure out which of the two current problems at-hand needed to be addressed first.

"I can explain," he started off with, which only led to her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Then, Peter knew he was a goner when she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for his response. "I don't know which one to start with."

"You having more than one thing to explain isn't a great start. What happened?" she directed her question with a focus on the left side of his face.

Peter reached up to touch his eye, wincing. "Oh, this? It's nothin'."

"And you being in Brooklyn on my morning route?"

"Friendly neighborhood-to-all Spider-Man?"

Lizzie's eyes narrowed as she took in his two excuses, and the only thing she was trying to figure out was whether or not standing here in the cold was worth calling Peter out for following her. Instead, she nodded once, and her arms fell back at her sides. Attention was drawn once again to what he didn't think would be the bigger issue of the two, and Lizzie stepped forward to tilt his chin so that she could see the left side of his face better.

Her hands were ice cold, not protected by gloves, and he hissed out when she made contact with his face. Peter wanted to pull out of it like he would if his Aunt May were checking his wounds, but Lizzie called that evasive maneuver already and secured her thumb to the other side of his jaw so he couldn't turn away. A sound threatened to escape his throat, and he met her eyes to give her a look.

Peter tried again with his usual. "I've had a lot worse, MJ."

She said nothing, but both of them became aware that they were in a similar position a few months ago. Peter didn't know if his face could even get more red when he remembered their kiss, and Lizzie released his chin while taking a step out from his comfort zone. If she noticed him looking a similar shade to a tomato, she (kindly, for his sake) ignored it. Peter cleared his throat. That did nothing to alleviate the silence growing between them the longer he waited for her to say something. Lizzie never did, forcing him to come to a million ideas on where her thoughts were at right now.

"Hey," he called for her quietly, clenching his mask in his hands as he did so. "Are...are we okay?"

Lizzie's brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"I just wanted to make sure, you know? 'Cause you haven't really talked to me since...that day, and I don't know if you're mad at me, but I promise I haven't told anyone—and I totally understand if you don't want to talk about this right now since you're, oh my god MJ, you have to be freezing—" and accompanied by that sudden declaration was Peter rushing into her comfort zone this time, extending his arms and telling KAREN to blast the heat for her. He continued like he hadn't interrupted himself, now only inches away from his partner's face. "I just...want to make sure you're okay."

"You don't have to worry about me, partner."

"Yeah?" he rebutted quickly. "And you weren't worried about my face two minutes ago?"

Lizzie knew he was right, but admitting that meant she would have to also provide an explanation to her earlier actions of concern. Scrunching up her red nose, she glanced up and down at Peter to see the steam literally rolling off from the difference in temperature. When she finally found her way back to his brown eyes, he remained waiting for her—her eyes, her answer, anything.

"We're okay, Peter," was all she said at first, digging her hands deeper into her pocket. Glancing at his bruise again, she licked her bottom lip with growing irritation. "And it's not the eye I'm worried about."

"Then what are you worried about?"

"I know you'll heal. It's just not great to see you hurt and me not be there when it happened. I'm not upset with you. I'm just upset someone hurt you."

Her explanation was truthful, and Peter couldn't help but find himself surprised by her honesty. Even if he knew where she was getting at originally, the provided explanation was more than he anticipated pulling out from Lizzie.

Peter, trying to lighten the mood, gently nudged her with his elbow. "Imagine how I feel."

"You have a prettier face, partner. Have to protect it."

Peter groaned and pulled his mask back over his face before she could see the reaction her words had. "MJ, I thought we were having a moment!"

"Oo, a 'moment,'" she continued with a twinkle in her eyes now. Peter managed to find a laugh in Lizzie when he threw his hands up in the air and stomped away like he was leaving. "Don't leave now! We were having a moment!"

"I hate you!" and then before he could reach the end of the alley, he stopped. Grinning from ear-to-ear, she tucked the bottom half of her face into her hoodie to hide her amusement when Spider-Man walked begrudgingly back to her.

"Forget something?"

Although she couldn't see it, she knew he was glaring. "I'm walking you home."

"That's very chivalrous of you, Spider-Man."

"Let's go before I take you the faster way."

He pointed up. Lizzie blanched. Nausea crept up at the mere thought of being swung around in freezing temperatures, likely to produce icicles from her nose, and she took lead of the way back home. Spider-Man dropped her off at the Carter apartment, and when he politely declined Sophia's breakfast, Lizzie tried her hardest not to beg him to stay. Just like she wanted to months ago; and just like last time, she faltered over the request.

When she got inside, she waved to her parents, bent down to kiss Sammy's head, and pet Lady in the same beat. Politely declining her Ma's breakfast just like her partner had, Lizzie said she was going to change. It was not until she got to the safety of her bedroom, locking the door behind her, that she moved to bite down hard on the neck of her drawn-hoodie to silence herself.

Knowing what came next, her body could no longer run on fumes. Lizzie moved further into her room with blurry vision, rubbing her face viciously as she went. Her bed was a tornado, sheets twisted up and falling off, as evidence of the rough night she had. Stepping over them, she turned on her bluetooth speaker with trembling hands, wiping her phone screen free of the water dripping onto it. Having her volume up too loud in the morning wasn't unusual, especially when she was getting ready for the day.

The day.

Four years today.

S.H.I.E.L.D. IS HYDRA. GET OUT. NOW.

Fingers latched onto a set of dog tags like a lifeline.

Happy Anniversary, Agent Three.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐘 ─ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝟐𝟒 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖

If Lizzie lived a short life, blame Peter Parker. And if Peter Parker miraculously disappeared one day—Lizzie Carter? Suspect #1. The seventeen-year-old's brown eyes worked to burn a hole through the back of the unsweet sixteen-year-old, hoping for success so she could see what was happening. Peter waved his hand behind him without looking, nearly whacking into a long rack of glass and Lizzie's right ear. Holographic glass, but from Failures 1, 2, 3 and 4, the STARK simulation sure as hell made it sound and look like real glass fell. The bad guys knew it, too, and so her eyes widened when she saw just close they came to Failure 5.

"Psssst," was all Peter had to say, never once taking his eyes off the two men ten yards away.

Lizzie didn't take her attention off Peter, in disbelief that all of this was happening right now. "I'm right next to you."

"I—well—down!" and then Peter ducked down again.

How was their partnership going?

Oh. Sooo great.

Lizzie followed his instruction blindly, not like she had much of a choice as his arm swept back with precision to yank her down next to him at whatever cost. After that, she came to the conclusion if Peter Parker ever jumped off (or fell off, if she were being honest) a bridge, she would follow whether she liked it or not. Blowing the shorter strands of hair out of her face, the seventeen-year-old watched as he peeked around to see where the men were now. Then, he blinked. Paused, and turned to face her.

"I have no plan," he bluntly admitted.

Lizzie stared back at him expressionless. "May was right."

"—what?" Peter's eyes widened at her. "What do you mean 'May was right?' When were you talking to May? Why were you talking to May? What did she say? What did you say?"

"Geez, worried much? Parents love me, I promise."

"Wh—that's not what I—" he glared when a smirk appeared on her face, and to make matters worse, she raised her eyebrows innocently. Like she didn't know what she was doing. He released her hoodie pocket as a flush rose up his neck, watching her adjust her weight as a result of him letting go. "You are the worst."

Lizzie grinned at him. "May says otherwise."

Peter's mouth opened to say something to combat the growing redness telling another story, but they were silenced.

"For the record, you both failed miserably."

Happy Hogan echoed over the intercom with too much enthusiasm for the upsetting announcement. At once, the lights of the New Avengers Facility lit up like a stadium, and the STARK-training simulation was over for the fifth time that week. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, an immediate overload to his senses, and groaned as his fists moved up to push against them for relief. With his vision obscured by a million, fuzzy stars, the only reaction Peter could acknowledge from his partner was what he heard.

"That's a zero-to-five, if we're still counting," Happy continued once the facility returned to normal. "One of the robbers heard you two screaming at each other like children, and down you both go. The bad guys got away with the priceless artwork, and they killed a hundred people, too. Brutally. Mission failed. Again."

"You could've just said we suck, and it would've had the same effect, Happy!" Lizzie rolled her eyes at the older man's dramatics. Peter heard her body hit the mat a ways behind where he sat down and a heavy exhale after. "For the record, that was your fault, partner."

"For the record, I'm not a spy, partner."

"But you are a spy-der, which counts for something."

He pushed his fists deeper into his eyes. "I hate you so much."

"That's not nice...and you wonder why we keep failing," she retorted and he swore he could see the smirk back on her face when she said it. Peter hated her. So much. "Are we going to forget who just made us lose? Again? For the fifth time this week?"

Lizzie only beamed when she saw the way she was getting on her partner's nerves. While she would humbly admit that it was a two-person effort to fail the simulations every day this week (their best record-time was Wednesday, FYI, don't ask), she would only humbly admit that because she definitely was not taking it as seriously as she should. Unlike Peter, who acted as if the simulations were life-or-death every time.

"Add it to the freaking list, MJ," he grumbled obnoxiously, finally opening his eyes one-at-a-time. When he saw the training facility back to its usual hell, Peter turned to face his partner. Only, instead of anger, he was surprised to find her thoughts lost off in the distance. Her nose wrinkled, a habit she'd picked up after its break last year, unaware of how often she did it. "MJ?"

"Hm?"

Peter's eyes traveled along her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and with her dark hair pulled back, her hardened features were more prominent to him. The hum didn't fully pull her back to reality, and he held himself up on one arm so that he could lean back and tap the edge of her shoe. A soft sound pattered against the rubber, and finally, MJ returned after that.

Peter watched the rush of emotions he saw so little of—realization, pain, sadness, confusion, realization again, then embarrassment—with the last being his least favorite. Lizzie rarely got embarrassed over things. Ever. He watched her wipe out in the middle of the cafeteria, and her first reaction had been to crack up with Taylor for five minutes. Lizzie got embarrassed when she slipped up, when she showed too much to someone else and didn't mean to, and Peter only knew that because he'd seen it too many times now to count. A spy conditioned to hide herself, embarrassed when she showed something human.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly, adjusting so that his body was now facing her lying position. She didn't keep her eyes off the ceiling tiles, though.

Add it to the list.

"It's dumb," she shrugged, and after a brief pause, Lizzie knew Peter left the space open for her to continue. With a painful sigh, Lizzie pulled herself back up into a sitting position opposite him. Instead of meeting his eyes, her attention fell on her scarred knuckles. "What you said reminded me of an old conversation. It's stupid, Peter, really. An inside joke that isn't even mine...I guess I just finally got the punch-line."

Carson Mayfield had a list of all the things Sam Wilson did that pissed her off. That was what she meant in Berlin, and why he wanted the good word in to her.

"Is it a good punch-line?"

Sam would search the world for Carson. Knowing every day he looked, he was ticking off one stupid, little thing he did on a rainy Tuesday in May that she added-to-the-list.

"Feels more like a punch than a punch-line," Lizzie replied, unable to hide the grimace. Grief overwhelmed her again. She would wait another day for the news that Carson and her sister had been found—except, now, Monroe echoed like a warning in the back of her mind. Her teeth clenched together. "Nothing new, y'know? They're not here. She's not here."

With the emphasis on the feminine pronoun, Peter could feel the heat rush up his back. Nausea that wasn't his own, but a reaction to what he knew Lizzie was going through. He wanted to find Sharon Carter and bring her back to her little sister himself. If the impossible was what it took to make that happen, he would try, if only so Lizzie would feel whole again. Because watching her wander the world with a missing piece hurt everyone who cared about her.

"She'd love you, by the way," was a small addition, almost like she was speaking to herself when saying it. Peter wasn't sure how to respond, but she saved him the trouble by meeting his eyes. "On another note," and just as fast as she lost herself, Lizzie found her way back to a center. He hated when she did it, too. She purposefully ignored the way his eyes softened, way too aware of her tactics by now. "I need to talk to you about something."

"I'm not doing the midterm project with you."

Lizzie made a face. "Screw you, for one, because to this day, I am the best mother to Padme that you could've been paired with—and two, I'm already partnered up with MJ, so you and Art can kill each other for all I care—and three..."

Three didn't come as quick out of her mouth as the first two had, and Peter's eyebrows raised. "You don't have a three, do you?"

"No," she pouted, "but it's my lucky number."

"Oh, wouldn't have guessed it," was the only natural response, glancing down at the hoodie she'd chosen to wear despite the heat blasting in the facility. A softball Midtown emblem with a certain number printed boldly on the back. Then, he focused back to the original conversation—well, the second one. "What'd you wanna talk about?"

Lizzie couldn't tell you more than the basics about Peter Parker two years ago. His name, what he did around school, and who he hung around with became a shared understanding between them for a while. Although, she suspected he had certain ideas of the kind of person she was.

"I need you to not be...you for, like, two seconds when I tell you this, but also remember everything you know like you were you, okay?" she started off, which meant nothing promising for him. Peter's lips fell into a flat line while his brows rose high, but he reluctantly nodded in confusion. "I'm considering talking to Tony—no, see—this is exactly why I needed you to not be you—!"

Peter might have been waiting for her to say those words for a year now, and the joy couldn't have been contained no matter how hard he tried. Clearing his throat, Peter flushed bright red again and nodded a few times after collecting himself. "Sorry. Sorry—continue—not Peter Parker right now. Just some dude...hate Tony, actually. Who's Tony? Mister Stark who?"

"So smooth, partner," was the only thing Lizzie could say to make him grin again. "I just...feel like I need to tell someone about what...happened with you know...and I would tell Happy, but I'm pretty sure he's eavesdropping already, and everything I say to him gets said to everyone else in the facility like it's a game of telephone—so...I'm very clearly stressed, Peter. I need you to tell me to shut up."

"No, please keep going. Who's Peter?"

Lizzie's eyes widened in disbelief at the teenage boy, as though he didn't just dare say those words, and her mouth opened to say something in response—but she fell short of words. Okay, Parker. Well played, she thought briefly, and the silent praise must have echoed on her expression because he grinned from ear-to-ear.

"You hate me, don't you?" he asked knowingly.

Moral after a year and a half of working together: their partnership wasn't perfect—or even passing, apparently—but it worked. He didn't know everything about Spy Lizzie, but he would choose her over anyone else. Peter Parker did know MJ Carter. By now, he could tell you what her favorite color was and how many albums she hated that month, but also the time when she and Taylor were little and got matching bruises from a bad-idea of "partner yoga."

Peter finally understood why Lizzie Carter blindly followed Steve Rogers into a battle at the airport in Berlin. He would follow her into one, too...and even though she would never admit it out loud, he knew she would never let him walk anywhere alone again either.

"So much."

Another smile stretched along his face, and for the first time that day, Lizzie laughed.

"Made you laugh, though," he said like it was a prize. Dropping one hand from the start of fixing her hair, she leaned forward so that she could shove against his chest. Peter watched her smile grow as she went to quickly re-do her messy bun. "So...Tony?"

"Yeah...Tony."

Peter nodded with a softer smile that only raised one side of his mouth. "Whatever you decide...I'm on your team. But for what it's worth, you don't have to tell anyone else what happened...you know that, right?" and when he fumbled over the right words to say next, his brow furrowed to correct himself. "I just know it upsets you how you don't have any privacy from him. So, I thought maybe this...um, is something you can keep to yourself...if you want to. Or if you don't, that's cool, too—"

"Peter, shut up."

"Oh, my god, thank you."

"I would've let you keep going, but you look like you're going to pass out—"

"It's hot in here. It's really hot in here," he huffed out, rubbing at his forehead and pulling at his sweatshirt collar. "Are you hot? Don't. MJ—"

Lizzie raised her hands innocently, though a smirk danced on her lips. "Wasn't going to say anything."

"I hate you."

"My spy senses are telling me that is a lie, partner."

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

𝟏𝟒 𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖

Being single on Valentine's Day sucked more and more the older Lizzie got. Not that she'd ever been able to really celebrate the holiday more than once, and that was with C.T., and that name was a memory Lizzie Carter tried not to touch. Ever. But with the couples flaunting their relationship in front of her, the feeling crept into her stomach of loneliness.

"Since when did Peter have a girlfriend?"

Lizzie blinked a few times at the sudden voice inside of her head, craning her neck to see her best friend with raised brows. "What?"

"I just saw Peter giving flowers to a girl. It's Valentine's Day..." Taylor's hands made a gesture, indicating for Lizzie to put two-and-two together. When Lizzie had absolutely no reaction to the news, her curly-haired best friend scowled. "Nothin'? Seriously? I thought you'd be more excited we can finally delete the spreadsheet."

Lizzie shrugged and returned back to her locker, grabbing her English assignment that Michelle 100% did for her yesterday. "He probably gave her flowers via Ned or something. I can't imagine Peter walking up and handing flowers to someone. Even on Valentine's Day," and when she glanced up from her backpack, midway through zipping it, Taylor glared. "What? What'd I do?"

"You," she hissed, and then tried to yank the backpack out of Lizzie's hands. A failure, since Lizzie had a handful of the top in her fist. Taylor huffed and purposefully pushed the backpack back into her chest. "You were supposed to fall for it—not be like 'Oh, Peter would never do that because I know my Peter, and he would never'— OOF!"

Lizzie's backpack went flying at Taylor. Considering it had enough books for a small library, the curly-haired girl sucked in a sharp breath and stared in disbelief down at the bag now on the ground. Taylor slowly turned back to her best friend's attention.

"Excuse you."

"You know what you did."

"Your reaction is only further evidence for my case," Taylor rebutted, just as sharp as Lizzie and entirely too familiar with the other girl's ways of deflecting. "And until you provide evidence to convince me otherwise—"

Lizzie's face twisted, and she bent over to grab her backpack and sling it back over her shoulder. "—provide evidence? Maybe the fact that we're not dating? And I've told you multiple times, on multiple occasions, at multiple points in time that you are crazy."

Taylor followed her, the two of them heading out for the day. As they passed a group of sophomores on the first floor exchanging teddy bears, Lizzie groaned and put more urgency into finding the exit. Taylor clocked the change in attitude, and by the time she caught up to the faster teenager, Lizzie was already down the steps.

"MJ—slow down, please," she begged as she finally tailed her, giving a gentle tug to the back of her shirt with the request. Lizzie paused, allowing Taylor the second to find a pace in-sync with her. "Lizzie. Why are we running?"

"If I told you, it would be evidence and not the kind you want to hear," Lizzie shrugged as she carried forward, purposefully ignoring the stare down to the right side of her face.

Taylor went through what one might consider the five stages of grief. "Oh. Lizzie. No."

"I told you, you didn't want to know. Besides, it's not what you think...she's just been on my mind today, is all."

"Anyone else, MJ. Anyone else. Satan himself."

"I just—"

Both girls were interrupted when they noticed someone walking in their direction, making specific eye contact with Lizzie Carter as they did so. Instinctually, the younger of the two girls slowed down. Taylor tried her hardest to pretend like she wasn't mentally asking Lizzie who the fuck the girl was in front of them. When she gave her best friend a side-eye, Lizzie noticed and shrugged with one shoulder.

That gave Taylor permission to stare (glare) down the stranger, eyebrow quirking when she noticed the volleyball jersey the blonde girl was sporting. Considering she had a spreadsheet of pretty-much-the-entire-school for Peter Parker's pursuit of love, she prided herself in knowing everyone at Midtown. Being a junior dating a senior meant she had the upperclass covered (except for the people she hated). While Taylor Brentwell tried to make it seem like she wasn't searching for the last name on her jersey, Lizzie Carter smiled.

"Hi," was all she started with, blatantly ignoring everything her best friend was doing right now.

Unlike Taylor, she made sure she was subtle checking out the girl, and when she got back to a pair of green eyes, they were too focused on Taylor's passive-aggressiveness to notice. The girl smiled back, and when Taylor saw it was that kind of smile, she realized what was going on.

Clearing her throat, Taylor brought attention to herself so that she could give a Cheshire, shit-eating grin at Lizzie before pointing over her shoulder where the exit is. "I'm just gonna go call Eli and see what the plans are for tonight."

The wingwoman attempt didn't go to plan when Lizzie's lips pulled into a tight line, and her eyes widened briefly at Taylor. "Tell him I said hi, and he's a piece of shit."

Knowing the last part was a jab to her, Taylor beamed. "Show me some evidence, MJ."

With that, her best friend slid away with a nod to the volleyball player. Unfortunately, the scheming didn't end there. Taylor purposefully walked backwards so that she could read the last name on the back of the girl's jersey. BENNETT. The girl's mouth dropped into an 'O' as she put two-and-two together.

Ayla Bennett was a senior volleyball player. Parents were divorced, and she had a scholarship to attend Midtown, but wasn't going to pursue volleyball in college. Super competitive, but under-appreciated. Freshman year, she was in a relationship with her teammate and they lost State that year after a bad breakup. Taylor might be a stalker, but it was her detective skills that put her at-ease leaving Lizzie Carter alone to panic-flirt on Valentine's Day. With two big thumbs up in the air for MJ to see, the curly-haired athlete turned around and made her way to softball practice—where she would talk as loudly as possible in C.T. Clemins' presence about the recent update to Lizzie's love life.

Lizzie didn't have the same biography at hand, and she was forced to push down the feeling in her chest when she noticed her best friend's two-thumbs up. Not Taylor's approval. Ayla pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, bringing attention to something she had in her hand. Tilting her head, Lizzie gestured toward it.

"Whatcha got there?"

The girl, still unnamed at this point, flushed at the question and shoved it quickly in her back pocket. "Nothing. It's so stupid. I'm sorry, Lizzie—"

"—hey, it's okay," she interjected, raising her hands in the air to signal no problem. "I don't mind the conversation, but I think it's unfair I don't know your name..." and then Lizzie had the same idea as her best friend, but instead she just moved around the girl and picked at the shoulder of her jersey so she could read the back. "Bennett?"

"Ayla."

"You stole my number, Ayla."

Ayla Bennett seemed to understand what she meant because she scoffed. "I think I'm a year ahead, so I'm pretty sure you stole mine."

Lizzie curled her bottom lip down and nodded, giving her that, and then she moved back to her original place. School was still hectic around them as it let out for the day, and the lobby of Midtown was more crowded than usual with students lingering around on the holiday to exchange gifts. Even then, she was mindful not to block anyone's way, allowing herself to be backed-up into the trophy case to avoid taking space.

"Is that what you came to talk about?" Lizzie asked, though her eyes shined knowingly. "Because you can keep it, if that's the case. I'm off the field until further notice."

"I heard about it... I'm really sorry, MJ," Ayla started, and then she winced at her own words, fumbling again with an apology to her apology. "I'm sorry. I'm sure it's annoying to be reminded of it."

Lizzie smiled kindly at the flustered girl. "Ayla. You've apologized to me three times in less than five minutes—"

"—I'm very nervous—"

"—why are you nervous?"

The question had intention behind it. Ayla was not as ready for the back-and-forth as the other girl was, huffing out a breath at Lizzie in brief awe. "You're really something, aren't you?"

"Enough for you to show me what you had in your hand?" Lizzie asked innocently, face lighting up as she took a step into Ayla's space.

The senior didn't move away, which gave her the confidence to quickly dart her hand around Ayla's waist to grab the paper from her back pocket. It was important to two things. One, that the volleyball player was taller than Lizzie Carter, so hanging the note over her head would not be a solution. Two, Lizzie decided to be on her best behavior and allowed the girl to fight for the paper back.

"Lizzie! Give me—"

"—what, this?" she asked, smirking as she turned her body away, forcing Ayla to try and reach around her to get it. Lizzie glanced down at it in the meantime, the red envelope and 'MJ' written on the top. When she noticed that it was specifically addressed to her, she paused in fighting. "Looks like it has my name on it. I mean, unless you know a Mike Jones. I think there's a sophomore actually..."

Lizzie allowed Ayla to finally grab the envelope back, and she turned to face the flushed blonde with a smile. "Maybe it is for Mike Jones."

"Want me to help you find him?"

"Lizzie!"

"I'm kidding," she laughed, biting down on her lip as she pointed to the letter. "But, if it is for me,  I want you to read it."

Ayla looked horrified at the suggestion. "What?"

"C'mon. Read it for me."

Lizzie Carter had a bad habit of flirting with anyone in her vicinity, but Ayla Bennet was different. Taylor got into her head. Now, she felt like she had prove to her best friend two things: (one) she was totally over C.T. Clemins, and (two) she was not in love with Peter Parker. One of those was easier to swallow than the other, and she let Ayla's green eyes distract her that Valentine's Day.

Ayla accepted defeat when Lizzie stood there waiting, and she sighed before slowly opening the envelope with a blush starting to rise on her cheekbones. Pretty, Lizzie thought, as Ayla prepared herself to read whatever was in the letter.

"'I'm over the rainbow for you. Make me lucky and be my Valentine?"

Lizzie's answer surprised more than one person that day.

"I'd love to."

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆:

THIS WASN'T A PART OF THE PLOT!

"I think it's good for you—a change! She's blonde, she's got green eyes, she's not a bitch...I give you full permission to marry her, as long as she knows I come first."

"Just so you know, your approval is a turn-off."

"You're a turn-off. Bitch."

○☆ ✸ ☆○

"You know, petunias are my favorite flower?"

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Author's Note:

Welcome to part three! Another day, another love interest. At least this one is Taylor-approved? I cannot WAIT to hear your thoughts on Ayla.

I apologize for the delay in getting an update out. Life got in the way, and so did writer's block. I have so many sections of part three written for the upcoming chapters of Infinity War, but placing them in the proper timeline and filling in the gaps has been a challenge. This one is a shorter chapter for me, but it is the introduction to the next part of Lizzie Carter's life (or lack thereof, per Thanos—yikes).

Lots and lots and lots of growth for our favorite partners, but a lot also happening with Lizzie that she still isn't speaking about. Buckle in for a harder time.

As always, please let me know what you thought! I will do my best to reply to comments, and also will go back and leave some A/N as well for thoughts during writing. Sending my love to all of you.

MJ Carter, stop growing up.