TWELVE.
❝ lana rushman ❞

AS A NEARBY AIRPLANE TAKES OFF WITH A LOUD RUMBLE, Svetlana peers out the long row of small circular windows for a better view of the airport. The only other time she's ever seen an actual airport was when she fought one half of the Avengers back in Leipzig in 2016. This is a not so pleasant memory.

Then again, it is where she saw Peter for the first time.

It feels strangely full circle.

Strangely enough, remembering their last encounter at an airport reminds Svet to text her parents and let them know she's boarding. She grins when she sees six texts already waiting on her lock screen picture of her and Sandwich. When they dropped her off at the airport this morning, Bucky had a hard time letting go of her. Literally. Natasha had to gently pry their daughter out of his farewell hug.

papa 🖤
Not too late to change your mind, darling.
sent at 7:26 a.m.

mama 🕷
Leave her alone, James
sent at 7:27 a.m.

Svet's smile widens and she quickly texts back, thinking it's a good thing they got him to start texting now.

no thank you, promise to
not get into too much trouble 😉
sent at 7:49 a.m.

That should calm him down.

The girl slides her phone back into her pocket and narrowly dodges a businessman throwing his briefcase into the overhead compartment. To her left, someone isn't covering their mouth when they sneeze. The woman two people behind her put on too much perfume — green apple, if she's guessing correctly. Somewhere near the back of the plane, a baby is screaming.

This enclosed space isn't great for her advanced senses with too many noises, sights, and smells all coming at her at once, but she draws in a deep breath and tries to center herself. Svetlana's boots thud against the hollow flooring, barely muffled by blue carpet, as she shuffles through the long through first class, business class, and then into economy. She eyes her ticket, looking from 'Lana A. Rushman' to the bolded seat number.

"You're Lana, right?"

Svet glances up to see a bright—eyed blonde standing in front of her with a wide polite smile.

"Hi there! I'm Betty, so nice to meet you." The blonde beams, and in a flurry of movement, shakes Svet's hand and then waves her onward, "Come on, I saw your ticket. You're sitting next to me!"

"Oh." Svet blinks a bit bewilderedly, "Yes. Thank you."

Her natural accent is gone, a modern American one like a blanket over her usual voice. It feels strange on her tongue, like a funny taste. But she has a job to do, and she'll do it well. She always does. This is what she was trained for, isn't it? Svet follows Betty down the long aisle, gnawing nervously on her bottom lip as she looks around. Peter is nowhere in sight.

Her heart sinks.

"Yo, Parker!"

Svetlana turns a little, following the sound of Peter's name. A boy with dark hair seems to be the source. He stands casually in the opposite aisle near the food cart, a glass of sparkling champagne in his hands and a rude smirk on his face.

"This is called an airplane." He speaks slowly, eyes bright with mockery, "It's like the buses you're used to, except it flies over the poor neighborhoods instead of driving through them."

Svet's nose scrunches. That was rude. Her eyes dart to follow the boy's gaze to find Peter, already in his seat, who seems to have chosen the high road and is now ignoring him. Svet doesn't like the idea that someone is teasing him.

A girl with long limbs and a serious face suddenly strides into view, leaning towards the flight attendant, "Ma'am? He Blipped, so technically, he's eighteen, not twenty—three."

In dejection, the boy blinks wide—eyed at the tall girl as the flight attendant swiftly plucks the alcoholic beverage out of his hand.

"She's lying!" The boy crows desperately, "I don't even know this girl!"

Svet smirks and continues down the aisle. The baggage compartment over her chair is already full so she goes down a few more and prepares to move her backpack into it. She senses more than sees the boy suddenly at her side, dark—haired and grinning.

"That's a pretty big bag." The unfamiliar boy chuckles nonchalantly, puffing his chest a little, "Looks like you could use some help."

"Does it?" Svet's voice is all sugar and sweetness before she easily lifts up her massive piece of luggage with one hand and shoves it into the overhead compartment. She spins back to the boy, meeting his eyes with a quick bat of her lashes. "Looks like I have it handled, yes?"

"Oh." The boy begs off with an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, "Uh, sorry. You're, like, really strong."

Svet flushes a little. Somehow saying she's, 'like, really strong' because of some supersoldier serum doesn't seem like it would quite fit her cover. She shrugs and scrounges for a reasonable explanation, "I'm... really into bodybuilding."

"Me too!" He's a little too cheery, it feels uncomfortable, "I'm Brad. Brad Davis."

"Lana." She replies carefully, "Lana Rushman."

Down the long aisle, Peter is peeking over the top of his seat with a frown on his face. His frown only deepens when he spots Brad laughing at something Svetlana just said. Ned is in the seat next to him, already buckled in and rambling about a video game or some other.

Peter continues glancing at the redhead for a split second before leaning into his best friend's ear to whisper, "I need your help to sit next to Lana."

Ned rolls his big eyes when he sighs, "The new girl? Seriously?"

Peter glances back at Svet again, mind absolutely made up, "Yes, seriously."

"What about our plan? American bachelors in Europe!"

"That's your plan. That's a solo plan!" Peter rushes to say, eyes wide, "Come on, this is my plan. Please."

The pair of best friends eye each other for a moment, Peter looking so desperate that Ned finally rolls his eyes and drops his head back into his seat in defeat. Peter grins in victory.

Then, after a brief moment of discussing the game plan, Ned boosts out of his seat and turns to the two girls finally sitting behind them. Betty and Svetlana are each relaxing into their seats, politely quiet, staring out the window into the airport around them.

"Hey, guys. There's an old lady in front of us wearing a crazy amount of perfume, and it's kind of setting off Peter's allergies." Svet cocks her head to the side suspiciously, eyes quickly flashing to Peter's face as Ned continues awkwardly babbling, "You know, Betty, if you could just... switch seats with him that would be..."

Peter blushes under Svet's stare, and a small smirk tugs at the side of her mouth. But despite the confident bravado she's putting on, she feels a tightness in her stomach. Her heart starts to pound and her fingers start to tingle at the idea. Eight hours and forty—nine minutes, that's how long this flight is. Eight hours and forty—nine minutes of just Svet and Peter. Sitting side by side, holding a just normal everyday conversation, shoulders pressed. The idea is as terrifying as it is exciting.

Svetlana isn't sure she's ever wanted anything so much.

One brow arched, Betty is not convinced, "He's allergic to perfume?"

"Yeah, yeah, because..." Ned is struggling with his cover story now, shaking his head, "It makes his eyes water, and he can't really—,"

Suddenly Mr. Harrington turns around in his seat, apparently having eavesdropped on the whole conversation, "You said Peter has a perfume allergy?"

"Oh, uh..."

Peter and Svet quickly glance at one another, a strange spark passing between them. 

"I'll tell you from experience, perfume allergies are no joke. I can feel hives breaking out already. Lana, could you stand up?" The teacher suddenly gets up from his seat, motioning the kids to follow his instructions, "Ned, take Lana's spot. MJ, you take Peter's spot." He turns quickly to the boy, "Peter, come with me. Let's get you out of there."

Peter stares at the back of his teacher's head in disbelief, mouth hanging open slightly, reluctantly grabbing his bag. Svet swallows back a heavy disappointed sigh and stands from her seat as well.

"Ned, thanks for bringing this to my attention. Your safety is my responsibility. And Mr. Dell's, but he's..." A few rows down, the other teacher/chaperone is fast asleep with his mouth gaping open and snores coming out of his nose, "I got it for now. Let's go, Peter! Let's go!"

Peter and Svetlana squeeze past each other, both doing their very best not to push into the other's space. For a brief second, his fingers accidentally tangle with hers and his touch sends such a shocking jolt under her arm that she drops her bag. Both teens quickly stoop in the tight aisle, gathering up her fallen belongings.

"Sorry," Peter murmurs, and they both know he's talking about more than the bag.

Svetlana sharply looks up, their gazes catching. She softly smiles, "No worries, yes?"

They stand and they part ways.

Svet settles down in her new seat which is still too small; she can barely fit her long legs into the small corner of the row that's her own. Now somewhat situated, she presses a smile for her new seat mate, MJ, who stares suspiciously over at her. The redhead blinks awkwardly. She taps her palms and bites her bottom lip, peeking between the airplane seats down the seven rows that separate them now.

"Did I tell you how my wife pretended to Blip out?" Mr. Harrington is saying, not caring when Peter doesn't answer — staring straight ahead, "Turns out, she ran off with a guy in her hiking group. We had a fake funeral for her and everything—,"

"So. What's your deal?"

Svetlana startles at the sound of the other girl's low voice, blinking back with wide blue eyes, "Sorry?"

MJ raises a brow and lays her head casually back in her seat, "Your deal. You're a new kid at school who suddenly decided to join a trip with a bunch of people you don't even know."

Svet has to resist a smile, liking that this girl just calls it as she sees it. Honesty is important. Her smile fades even more at the thought. If honesty is so important to her, then what is she even doing here? Because you need to protect him, Svet assures herself cautiously, He needs you.

And because of that, Svetlana has a role to play, "I'm just your normal American teenager."

MJ's eyes narrow suspiciously, staring at the redhead for what seems like an eternity. And then she asks, "Parents made you go on the trip, huh?"

She swallows back the urge to breathe a sigh of relief.

"How could you tell?" Svet falls into the role as best she can, rolling her big eyes, "My... mom and dad," the words feel far too strange, "They just got remarried. To each other. And now we've moved back to the city and they want me to get adjusted to my new school and, you know."

All the best cover stories mean keeping the lie as close to the truth as possible. Her cover story is up to her, after all.

MJ seems to buy it.

"Brutal. Home drama is bullsh—t."

You have no idea, Svet wants to say. The amount of times her parents have tried to assassinate and/or seriously injure one another is absolutely ridiculous. Though, she thinks that might be a little too suspicious and not at all normal.

She's trying really hard to be "normal".

She settles with, "Yeah. Know from experience?"

MJ side—eyes her, "You need to be at least a Level 7 Friend to unlock my tragic backstory."

Svetlana squints in confusion.

After a beat, the girl snorts and hands her a headphone, "Stick with me. I'll help you navigate this high school nightmare of a field trip."

Svetlana's smirk slowly widens into a genuine smile as she takes the headphone and tucks it into her ear, "Thanks. I'd like that."

She may not have Peter, but she does have the start of something else.

Commencing Step 2: Make Friends. 

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Our flight time today will be eight hours and forty—nine minutes to Venice, Italy."

━━━━━━

PETER STARES AT HIS BEST FRIEND IN ABSOLUTE DISBELIEF. A lot can happen in eight hours and forty—nine minutes. Apparently. All of the sudden, Ned has a girlfriend and they're gushing over each other and they're calling each other 'babe' and, frankly, Peter finds it a little nauseating.

"Whatever happened to being an American bachelor in Europe?" He sputters.

"Peter, those were the words of a boy." Ned tells him solemnly, upturning his nose and batting his lashes, "And that boy met a woman. A very strong and powerful woman. And now... that boy is a man."

Peter stares.

"Babe?" Betty calls.

Ned calls back just as sweetly, "Coming, babe!"

Still in disbelief, Peter watches them waltz off together, hand—in—hand, towards the security checkpoint.

"Ew."

He jumps at the sudden voice in his ear. The boy swiftly turns to find Svetlana standing right beside him. Even with his hyper senses, he somehow hadn't felt her coming. Her eyes dart towards the happy (nauseating) couple to make her point, wearing a small pink smile as she steps away.

"Ha ha, yeah. Ew, right?" Peter gives a dopey laugh, gazing after her with wide doe eyes.

The redhead walks backwards, staring back at him with her backpack in her hands and that lingering smile. She manages to dodge three bumbling high schoolers who walk into her path before smoothly swiveling back around and striding towards security.

Peter watches her go.

Suddenly, he shakes himself, blinks himself back to reality, and then jogs to keep up.

Svetlana keeps an eye on him through customs until he is taken away from the group into a private searching area. Though Peter gets briefly detained and nearly outted as the super secret Spider—Man, he soon catches up with their group gathering baggage claim. Soon, they're on a boat through the Grand Canale in Venice, taking photos and videos of anything and everything.

Svet thinks it's strange to be in such a group of tourists who, whether or not they mean it, make a point to stick out in the most obnoxious ways. She's used to being discreet, to moving under the radar. This is the spy in her. She's working hard to shake the training and use it in a different way.

At least the weather is nice. With the bright blue sky and the warm sun, the salty breeze feels wonderful against her skin. Svet lets out a low satisfied sigh, closing her eyes and turning her face towards the sun. She doesn't notice that Peter keeps glancing her way.

Soon, their longboat pulls up to the most dingy—looking hotel in what may be the entire city of Venice. With scaffolding covering the front, the 'hotel' sign hangs by a very thin thread.

"Looks like we're here!" Mr. Harrington is trying his best to be positive as he leads them inside, "They're doing some renovations to the place. Getting some upgrades... Everyone, here we are!"

Svet takes in the desolate guts of the hotel with raised brows. It's just as bad as the outside, perhaps even worse. Most of the lights aren't working and the walls are chipping off paint. The floorboards creak and whine under their feet, with massive holes in the wood so they can see the canal underneath.

When Mr. Harrington steps into said puddle of water, the boy with the champagne — Flash — groans, "This place is sinking!"

"Technically, all of Venice is sinking," Svet announces to no one in particular, spinning in a small circle, unbothered by the gross interior.

Flash cocks his head.

Peter smiles from the corner of her eye.

With feigned enthusiasm, Mr. Harrington cries, "I think you mean, charming."

"It stinks," Flash insists.

"Ok, everybody, drop your bags off. We're gonna meet at the da Vinci Museum at 3:00. Let's go! ¡Vamonos!

"It's andiamo," MJ and Svet correct at the same time before quickly looking at each other.

Oh yeah, they're going to be real good friends.

Mr. Harrington repeats them with equal gusto, "Andiamo!"

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do!" Mr. Dell calls as they all grumble and shuffle to follow their instructions, "When you're in Venice, your socks get wet!"

Thankfully, Svetlana's socks do not get wet. She wanders around Saint Marco Polo's Square, taking in the sights just as much as the students and their surroundings. She's still here on a mission, after all. It's hard to analyze all of these people at once while also joining the fray of tourists and locals.

Flash stands in the middle of the square, surrounded by two women in traditional costume as he livestreams himself, "What's up, Flash Mob? How you guys doing? I'm here in St. Marco Polo's..." A student sprints by and smashes the boy right in the groin, doubling him over and making him cry out, "Oh—!"

Ned and Betty giggle and caricatures of themselves drawn as other students take a photo in front of the nearby statues. Peter is across the square, leaning against one of the many beautifully carved columns. He saw her long before she saw him. He raises a hand a bit in greeting and she shyly waves back.

No more being afraid, Svetka.

Svetlana takes one brave step forward, but stops when she sees something strange, a man across the square, hovering just behind Peter. In a hat, with a phone to his ear, there's something in his body language that doesn't sit right with her. Adjusting her double braids, the girl feigns nonchalance as she begins her trek across the courtyard — aiming for the suspicious man.

She's distracted by Mr. Harrington who is standing on one of the small bridges, struggling to take a photo of himself. The teacher sets his camera on the railing and poses a bit awkwardly, waiting for the small flash. Swiftly grabbing the camera, Mr. Harrington nearly drops it but saves it at the last moment. With a relieved breath, the man takes his time to look at the picture and then the camera slips from his hands, nearly plopping right in the water before Svet darts over the railing and catches the device midfall.

"Close call, yes?"

Mr. Harrington nearly bursts into tears in gratitude.

But by the time she's turned back around, both Peter and the suspicious man have disappeared.

Familiar disappointment swirls in her stomach.

Svetlana finds someone else to hang out with. A few minutes later, Svet and MJ stand in the middle of the square, completely surrounded by a flock of pigeons. The taller girl smiles as Svet takes her picture, birds perched on across her arms and shoulders. It turns out their trick of placing crumbs of bread all over her shirt worked wonders.

Svet grins, snapping another picture of them together, "Aw, you're like a... a Disney princess!"

"Yeah, we're not gonna be friends long if you start calling me that." Svet laughs, and still absolutely covered in birds, MJ frowns, "You know, I'm not convinced you're not a Russian spy, 'Lana Rushman'."

"Well, I would tell you but I would have to kill you," Svet says it completely seriously.

MJ takes it completely seriously.

The pair of girls stare at each other for a long serious moment before MJ demands, "Name three Beatles songs."

"Eh..." Svet thinks hard; she did study for this, after all. "Let It Be, Yellow Submarine, and... Here Comes the Sun?"

"Hmm." But MJ is still suspicious, "Captain America or Red Guardian?"

"Both."

"CIA or KGB?"

"Neither."

"Nice." MJ approves, "Chips or crisps?"

"Chips."

"What's better — MacDonald's or Burger King?"

"Burger King."

MJ scoffs a little at that, "That isn't even a fair test. Everyone knows that. Even Russian spies."

Svet laughs and sympathetically pats her new friend's bony shoulder, "Don't worry, MJ. You'll figure it out eventually."

The taller girl arches a dark brow, "I really will, you know."

Svetlana believes her.

For now, she simply smirks and walks away. She wanders away from the crowd and begins traveling down the small alleys and streets, Eventually, she stumbles upon Peter who is exiting a small jewelry shop, smiling to himself and holding a small bag. Svet thinks nothing of it.

She calls, "Hi..."

"Hey!" The boy once again startles and then laughs a bit, as if he was surprised to see her, "Enjoy—Enjoying the city?"

"Oh yes. Very much. I've never been to Venice before." Svet stops and corrects herself casually, "Or, well, I have, but that was when I was younger and I was busy planning an assassination."

He blinks, "Oh..."

Svet's eyes widen and she gasps, "But he was a bad man! A very bad man! Not that it matters because I still would have—or, eh," Finally, the girl groans and drops her face into her hands in shame, "I shouldn't have said this! Assassination is bad."

"No. No. It's okay! It's just..." Peter can't help but laugh at her embarrassment, before speaking a bit more carefully, "Something to get used to."

She raises a thin brow, "That I am a murderer?"

Peter blanches and stops where he stands, peeking at her out of the corner of his eye. For a long moment, they simply stare at each other. It's awkward, so terribly awkward. And then they're bursting into a fit of laughter, their cheeks turning bright pink as they sway on the pavement.

"Sorry." Svet covers her mouth with her fingers, "So sorry."

Peter laughs and rolls his eyes at her. After a few moments, he says a lot more seriously, "I wanted to say... I'm really sorry about your mom."

"Oh." Unable to give into another lie, Svet tries to offer him something in return, "And I am sorry about your sister."

Peter's bright eyes dim and he glances quickly away, clearing his throat, "Yeah. I miss her a lot."

They continue walking, lapsing into a safe silence while they wander the narrow streets along the canal. The sadness drifts away, their shoulders brushing, the comfortable feeling of companionship settling over them. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him subtly running his fingers through his hair, straightening his plaid shirt, checking his breath. Svetlana wonders if she should do the same.

After a few moments of this, Peter peeks at her again — forcibly casual, "So. Lana Rushman."

"Oh, yes." She shrugs and folds her hands behind her back as they walk along, "Most people do not recognize me, but Svetlana Barnes... the name might be noticed. It's better for blending in."

"And your accent? It's gone."

"Oh. Yes. " She flushes deeper this time, this time more from worry than anything else, "Do you... do you miss it?"

"I do." Peter tells her honestly, though softly, "I—I liked it, actually. I liked it a lot."

She ducks her head and smiles to herself. For so long, Svetlana has been told to stand up straight and keep her mouth shut. She was told her voice didn't matter, that she had no worth and neither did her words. She was a thing, a tool, a weapon to be used — not a person to be heard. And even then, when she found the courage, Svetlana still stood out for so long. The only Russian amongst Americans, the raspiness that came from disuse, the soft lisp from being unable to hear so long.

Peter misses her voice. Peter likes it.

"Then I will speak like me, yes?" Her accent slips through now, clear and true, "But only with you."

Somehow the words like they mean so much more than what they're saying out loud. Somehow Peter understands too.

And still he says, "Deal."

She forgets to watch her surroundings, instead focusing solely on Peter. Together, they stop on the curve of a bridge and take in the sight of the water glistening in the sunlight.

"So, uh, don't get me wrong, I'm really happy you're here—," He catches himself, squeezing his eyes closed, "I mean, like, everyone is happy you're here but, um, me specifically, too." He cringes and when Svet laughs, he playfully huffs. "Anyway, I just wanted to ask... why did you come on this trip?"

Svet stops and looks back at him.

There's a litany of answers that she can give. That she should give. Lies and truths, and a tragic mix of the two. Svetlana tries to sort through the jumbled mess in her head, to decide how to answer, if to even answer at all. Suddenly she doesn't care about what Nick Fury might think, or what the mission is. Really, she has two options now: to tell a lie or tell the truth.

Either way, the answer stays the same.

"For you, Peter."

That's when the water monster attacks.

━━━━━━ annie speaks ━━━━━━

IT'S FRICKIN' HAPPENING! it's so funny because this has simultaneously been the slowest of slow burns but also it's not? because now that we're here, they both know where they stand so we don't have to deal with the whole — "do they like me, i don't know" drama! no, no, we have plenty of OTHER drama to deal with. god, i love drama. and now we have to deal with peter's trauma, svet's lies, and mysterio on top of it all! hooray! btw i love mj and svet, their friendship really grows and i'm excited. (and that mention of lisa, ugh, my heart)

also, can we quickly talk about the metaphorical meanings behind the whole peter missed her voice? it's just? for so many years svet has been beaten up, shamed, and kept silent, and now there's this boy who tells her he likes her voice for how it is. her accent, her lisp, everything. i'm freaking crying. i love them. i'm going to make them cry.

what are your thoughts, feelings, theories, fears? let me hear them all!

oh also, i'm going to see nwh tonight. wish me luck!