I Wish You Could Be Honest Chapter Six: Leaving is Only For the Faint of Heart

HYDRA didn’t die out when it failed to take down S.H.I.E.L.D. during the time of the Winter Soldier. Now, top enemy agent Y/N L/N has been sent to finish the job by killing Steve Rogers. When she’s captured by S.H.I.E.L.D., she doesn’t know what to expect, but it certainly doesn’t involve Captain America himself trying to win her over.

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Moore leaves soon enough, and you’re alone on the balcony once more. You turn back to the landscape before you, hoping for something to distract you from the relentless surge of thoughts all crawling down your throat, but even the sky and sun can’t ease your mind anymore. The sunset has finished, the colors are gone. All that’s left is the gradual growing dark of night.

Steve comes back about five minutes later. You have to hand it to him, he tries hard to get you talking anymore, but the charm of your previous conversation has been lost. You feel restless, like you’re a junior agent on her first mission instead of the battle-hardened spy that you’re supposed to be. What happened to make you like this? Who stole your courage like a pickpocket snatching a purse?

You know, of course. Moore coming to tell you about the impending break-out attempt should have lifted your spirits, but it’s just sunk you back down into a wealth of shadows. You knew you would be leaving at some point, or you hoped as much, but now that you’re face to face with the truth, you almost don’t know what to do with yourself.

It’s good news, though. It’s meant to be good news. When Steve gives up and walks with you back to your cell, you force your mind to parade through every happy thing awaiting you back at the HYDRA base. Clean clothes that are actually yours and not just borrowed from the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms. Your best weapons. The friends you’ve made. The promotion that’s awaiting you, or at least the familiar burn of a chastisement. Everything about the organization that’s been your life for the past few years.

Yet, when you shut your eyes, alone in your cell once more, you do not see the faces of your boss, nor your coworkers, or even yourself. You see the blond man sitting before you, how he tilts his head back when he laughs and squints his eyes shut as if he can’t even believe himself for thinking what’s been said is funny, let alone you too. 

This illusion of your mind shrugs his shoulders, tips his bottle forward against yours then draws it back just as quickly for a drink. He does not know you’re going, and he won’t, not ever. You can keep a secret, even if you don’t know how to keep it from yourself.

There’s a security camera in the corner, it is watching you with a relentless stare. You sit up slightly, staring it dead in the eyes. Who’s the agent on the other side, looking back at you? Is it someone you’ve hurt? Is it any one of the other friends you made before you betrayed them all when HYDRA reared its head? Hell, is it Steve? Did he see your furrowed brows and wonder what you were hiding from him?

The red recording light blinks once as if in acknowledgement, then shuts off completely. In the weeks you’ve spent in this cell, that has never happened once, not even when Steve was talking to you outside of the interrogation. It stayed on all along.

You stand slowly, wavering as blood rushes to your legs. Moments later, the door to your cell clicks open, a precise sort of sound like the whir of a machine. Your head jerks towards it, your hands clenched into fists. The lights click on about half a second later, revealing Moore standing in the doorway.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “You can calm down, L/N. We’re skipping town, so if you’re attacking anyone, it shouldn’t be me.”

You force your shoulders to relax, but there’s still a churning sort of nerves messing up the rest of you. “What happened to waiting it out? I thought we weren’t leaving for a while. Has something happened?”

Moore shakes his head, casually strolling further in the room so he can pretend to check out the room like a potential buyer on a reality TV show. “That was so you would take it easy, like you should be doing now. If I told you that we were going tonight, you would have reacted accordingly. We can’t have you communicating anything to Captain America or his trusty thugs, even by accident. What, did you want to give him a little goodbye kiss?”

You walk closer to Moore, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing just enough that he squirms in your grip like a fish out of water. “I’m going to suggest you stop talking and just get me out, or I’m going to tear your arms off.”

Moore laughs nervously, although he does a quick sidestep out of your reach the second he can. He works his shoulder with a free hand, grimacing. “So pleasant, Agent. I can see why you have so many friends.”

At a sharp glance from you, he sighs. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

You follow him out of your cell, but you only make it a few steps outside before he stops walking again. 

“Another detour?” You ask. “Why, are the security cameras on a loop or something?”

Moore has the bravery to scoff. “What? No, I know what I’m doing. No one can hear or see us unless they decide to take a trip down to the incarceration block for a fun nighttime activity.”

You give him a pointed look. “Then why are we stopping?”

Moore pulls a stack of key cards out of his pocket, handing half to you. “I’ve ordered some cell rearrangements. Everyone in this hall is a member of HYDRA. If we’re doing one jailbreak, we’re doing them all.”

You nod, grabbing the cards. Moore walks past you to the other end of the hall and begins to unlock another door. You were in the cell on the far left, so you move one door over and swipe a card against the lock. It opens with that same mechanical click, revealing an agent tied to a chair in the dead center of the room.

You recognize her, having seen this very same agent when you first arrived at the S.H.I.E.L.D. cell block. It’s Henrietta Clarke, the woman Steve took you to visit in the hopes of seeing whether you’d rat out anyone in HYDRA if given a chance at freedom. You hadn’t revealed her then, but upon coming face to face with her again, you can’t help but remember Steve’s words. 

He had said that you were the only HYDRA agent who had refused to turn in a fellow agent, contrary to what you had been told in the past. It’s HYDRA principle to never betray your coworkers, yet not one of your captured agents had ever played by that rule. Steve could have been lying, of course, but you’ve memorized his tells like a gambler memorizing the day’s lotto numbers. You know when Steve is lying, and he wasn’t lying then.

You push the thought out of your head. You don’t have time to think about Steve, not now. If you’re captured at this point, no amount of tricks will save you from a true interrogation. You’ve been offered an olive branch, and you need to use it to escape now. If Steve finds out about your attempt to flee, he’ll never offer you the same kindness again.

You reach for the dummy S.H.I.E.L.D. badge on your arm, removing the hidden blade in one crisp movement. As you saw at Clarke’s restraints, though, you can’t force your thoughts from Steve any longer. Moore wasn’t wrong about the date change for the break-out. If you had known that you were leaving tonight, you would have–

Well, what would you have done? Would you have told Steve that you were leaving, would you have hoped for a goodbye? Not a chance. Steve is still your enemy, even if you think you can share drinks with him on a sunny afternoon. There is no future that doesn’t involve the two of you gunning for each other, and no amount of jokes and false pretenses can change that. 

It’s over now, it’s done. This hasn’t been one of the worst lies you’ve told, and if you’re going to be honest with yourself, you might even miss it on late nights when the solitude of a spy’s life gets to you. Maybe you’ll reminisce whenever you see a man who smiles with eyes even half that blue, or when you delude yourself into thinking that you’ll ever be more than a killer. One man thought that you could be more than just yourself, and you’re proving him wrong right now.

You tug through the last of Clarke’s restraints with a savage tug of your blade, and she stands up. You can’t return her relieved smile, just slap another key card into her palm and tell her to start letting people out. You open door after door, and eventually, you meet up with Moore and a dozen or so newly freed agents.

From there, it’s relatively simple. Moore must have been planning this operation with other HYDRA agents for a while, because he’s got everything under lock. You can admit that much, even though you still think the guy’s a greasy asshole who’s far less slick than he thinks.

He manages to get you back your uniform and guns, too, even though your belongings are probably covered in trackers and have to be ditched soon enough. Well, the thought counts. Moore has identified specific corridors that are monitored by dead cameras, and you and your entourage of liberated HYDRA agents dash through the hallways as quickly as you can.

You’re running on adrenaline and the hope that you’ll get out soon, so when Moore starts directing you further into the S.H.I.E.L.D. complex instead of towards the doors leading out, you can’t help but feel frustrated.

You catch up to him, and mutter under your breath as you run. “Excuse my confusion, but I thought we were supposed to be leaving, not staying around even longer. Shouldn’t we be going the other direction?”

Moore smirks. “That’s if we’re going immediately, yes. We still have a shot to finish your mission.”

Something like ice starts to claw its way out of your stomach, freezing around your heart and crawling up your throat to tip your tongue with cold. “What does that mean?”

He chuckles. “Oh, come on. We’ll never get a chance like this again. Steve Rogers is going to come out of that door over there in approximately thirty seconds, and he’ll never be able to take on all of us, not when we have surprise on our side. I bet you twenty he doesn’t even have his shield with him.”

You turn to face him slowly. “We’re killing him now?”

This is too much. You were barely pulling yourself together when you thought you were leaving Steve with nothing, but now? You try to visualize what is about to happen. Steve comes walking out of those doors, coasting on the feeling of being safe for once in his life. He isn’t watching his back. He doesn’t have to, not in his own base.

What will happen when he sees you, out of your cell and surrounded by your own men? Will you watch those sky blue eyes flash with surprise, then grow cold when he realizes that you’ve betrayed him? You are the primary agent here, even though Moore’s been leading this rescue operation for a while. You will be the one expected to take your gun and pull the trigger.

It will be your hands stained with red, then. It will be your bullet piercing Steve’s skull. He will fall dead at your feet, because you never miss and you certainly won’t when he’s so close to you. Will you wait for him to realize the situation before you take the shot, or will you save yourself the torment of watching him understand, and kill him before he knows you’ve turned traitor once again?

All this flashes before your eyes in the space of about half a second. You blink, hard, to clear away the vision of Steve lying dead at your feet, and the linoleum clears itself of blood in about half a second. You have killed many times before, and murdered people far more innocent than Steve. You were ready to assassinate him weeks ago. You can do it again. You have no other choice but to do it again.

But Moore is shaking his head. 

“No, not this time, I’m afraid. We’ll do it eventually, of course, but he’s been so open to you that it’s got me thinking. Why cut off a perfectly good lead if you can keep using it? I’m thinking we take Rogers back with us to base, glean every piece of information we can, then shut him up once and for all. I mean, I’ve been undercover here for a while, and they only let me know so much. I can’t imagine the wealth of knowledge Rogers is sitting on, and if he shares even half of it, we’re golden.”

You let out a slow breath, feeling oddly relieved. “Alright, then. Shoot to wound?”

Moore considers this, then frowns, disagreeing. “Why bother? The noise would only alert people. We surround him, maybe rough him up a bit to get him to surrender, then knock him cold. We’ve got enough people that we can get him out without too much fuss. There’s a vehicle parked right out that door.”

You nod. “You’ve certainly planned this out well.”

It’s a statement of judgment, but Moore just seems pleased by it. “Yes, I have. Gratitude looks good on you.”

You’re not certain that you’re grateful in the slightest, but you don’t have time to unpack that, because the doors at the far end of the hall are opening and Steve Rogers is stepping out into the corridor. As the door shuts behind him, he freezes slightly, noticing that there’s a crowd of people where there should be nothing but empty rooms.

His eyes meet yours, flash to the people around you, then back to you again. He tilts his head back slightly, knowingly. “I suppose there’s no way I can convince you to go back to your cells, then?”

Moore laughs, the sound strangely discordant as it echoes off the half empty walls. “Not a chance. Stand down, Rogers. We’ve got you outnumbered.”

Steve shakes his head once. “Not the way I see it.”

Despite Steve’s bravado, Moore isn’t wrong. Steve may be a supersoldier, but even he can’t take on more than a dozen HYDRA agents that have been spending the last few weeks or even months biding their time for a chance to strike. He puts up a good fight, but there’s nothing he can do.

Eventually, he’s forced to the ground, his hands on his head. Moore rummages around in his pack for a syringe, and you find yourself standing directly in front of Steve, looking down at him.

Steve’s gaze is unwavering, and you feel the need to speak, anything to get this sudden, looming weight off of your chest. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. You knew I was a bad guy all along. It’s not my fault if you wanted to believe something different.”

Steve’s expression doesn’t change for a heartbeat. “I don’t believe it anymore.” He says, and you rear back for just a second as if he’s slapped you.

At the same time, Moore, having located the syringe at last, jams the tip into Steve’s neck and pushes in the plunger, releasing the sedative. Steve’s eyes shut in a matter of seconds, but you swear you can still feel his gaze burning holes into your head.

Moore looks up at you triumphantly. “Well, we did it. Mission accomplished, I’d say.”

You smile back feebly, and you don’t think it’s ever been harder to fake such a simple expression. “Mission accomplished,” you repeat.

This is supposed to be a celebration, a chance for you to finally go home, but you can’t seem to stop one question from replaying in your head, again and again until you think you might go mad:

What have you done?

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Like a Daydream

Based on this request: “A Peter Parker oneshot where the reader can put people to sleep with her touch, but she’s got something against the Avengers. As per usual, Spider-Man isn’t really that involved himself with the Avengers, but still helps them out, so they’re enemies. Yet she and Peter are friends in their normal lives, not knowing each other’s secrets”

masterlist

It is dead silent in the school library. Perfect, blissful silence, something that happens about once every century and quite possibly not even that often. For once, everybody is working, totally focused on whatever math homework or group project has befallen them. Around you, the hum of concentration scarcely dares to make a sound. It’s fantastic.

Or, it is fantastic until your phone jolts to life with an alarm. You grab it within the span of about half a second, immediately silencing it, but the damage is done. You swear you get a dozen angry glares, even though your phone was only on vibrate mode. Never mess with the impeccable study schedules of high school students when they’re a few hours from a deadline.

Your best friend arches a brow from where he sits across a very small table nicked by its fair share of overly aggressive pencil strokes.

“You do realize you’ve ruined all of us, right? No one here is going to be able to concentrate for the next day or two.”

You glare at him. Peter Parker may be one of your good friends, but it’s not as if he’s any better. Not even ten minutes ago, he nearly caused a riot by cracking his back so loudly that he attracted the stares of a study group three tables down.

“You’re the one who’s talking. Shut up.”

Peter just grins. “It’s too late to bully me, everyone else is already talking anyway. I hate to break it to you, Y/N, but you’ve destroyed the entire atmosphere.”

Peter isn’t entirely wrong. Already, people are daring to voice their comments again, and you have no doubt that the entire library will break back out into conversation in a matter of minutes.

You roll your eyes. “My apologies for messing with the vibe. Anyways, I have to go.”

Peter frowns. “So soon? I’ll miss you terribly.”

You smirk. “I bet you will, Parker. I hate to separate you from my presence, but I have no choice.”

Peter waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll mourn for hours. Are you still up for our study sesh later tonight? If you abandon me the night before our history final, I will actually lose my mind.”

You grin. “Never, I need that as much as you do. See you tonight.”

Peter waves goodbye as you gather up your things and go. You leave with a smile, and not just because you’ve been able to have another productive study session with your best friend.

No, this particular source of joy has everything to do with the alarm that just went off on your phone. You created that reminder to make sure you were ready to go when the time came. Namely, the time when all of the Avengers would travel out of their facility and thus be unprepared for an attack. You’ve been tracking security cameras and exit patterns as best you can, and you think you’ve been able to successfully map out the one time of day when New York’s resident heroes are least likely to be in Avengers Tower.

To put it simply, you’ve got a break-in planned, and you’ve organized it so it’ll coincide when no one is there. You’ve got a bone to pick with the Avengers. Technically, they only know you as Nightmare, an inhuman with the ability to put someone to sleep with the mere touch of a finger. Every good villain has a secret identity, and yours has been striking terror into the hearts of the Avengers for the past couple of months.

See, it all started about a year ago. Life isn’t wonderful as an inhuman, especially not since the Avengers started racketing up their enlistment process. Basically, if you’re even rumored to have gifts, you’re brought in for all sorts of questioning and tests, and if they find anything on you, you can kiss your normal life goodbye.

That’s what happened to a friend of yours, a girl named Alyna. She was able to bend light, and the two of you were happy practicing your abilities together until she messed up and used her powers in front of a security camera near northern Manhattan. Next thing you knew, she had ‘moved to a different school,’ and you never saw her again. You know the whole thing happened because of the Avengers, she was able to tell you that much before she vanished.

Now, you’re doing everything you can to find her. You’ve been raiding S.H.I.E.L.D. outposts for a while, trying to find anything on her, but the real target is the Avengers complex. You’ve been setting this up for a while, and finally, it’s time to strike. You pull on a change of clothes in a nearby alley, tug a hood up around your face, and start to walk briskly towards Avengers Tower. It’s time to do this before you lose your nerve. You have to find your friend.

You have no idea how well this is going to work, if it’s even going to work at all. Suddenly, it occurs to you that this is a terribly stupid plan. You’re one person, and S.H.I.E.L.D. is a mammoth organization composed of thousands of trained killers. There is no David and Goliath here, more like one David and about twenty or thirty Goliaths all junked up on super soldier serum and thus resistant to stones. The odds are not entirely in your favor, to say the least. 

However, you’ve already arrived, and the sight of the crimson ‘A’ over the door fuels you to keep going. You’re not doing this for you, you’re doing this for Alyna. You have to keep going for her. It’s what she would do for you. 

So, you duck your head as you enter the doors, and walk briskly towards an information desk located in the center of the room. You can see two double doors at the far side, locked and in need of a key card. They’ll probably lead to the rest of the complex. 

A tired looking woman raises her eyebrow suspiciously when you walk in. “Can I help you?”

You notice a key card attached to her ID and smile. “Yes, actually, you can.”

You lean close enough to the woman that you can reach over and tap her wrist ever so gently. The security cameras shouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, as you don’t seem to attack her, just stand there. The woman slumps back into her seat, and you grab her key card as she falls asleep. You let yourself in through the doors, and then it’s time for the next stage of the plan. 

You’ve learned one crucial lesson over the past couple months spent breaking into smaller S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities: if you look like you belong, you won’t get caught. Walk with confidence, and you’re pretty much bulletproof. Even though you’re dressed in a hoodie obscuring most of your face whereas everyone else is dressed in impeccable uniforms, no one casts you a second glance. They just assume you’re coming back from an undercover mission and haven’t yet had the chance to change. The stolen ID card casually pinned to your chest doesn’t hurt either. 

You don’t entirely know where you’re going, but after a few good loops of the hallways, you find a room off the main promenade that’s full of computers. It’s only guarded by a couple people so it should be fine, right?

You close and lock the door behind you, which causes the two agents to look up from their computers. One steps forward, a hand reaching for a gun. 

“What are you doing here?”

You smile at them, sweeping close enough that you can lay a hand in their pulses, one by one, and knock them out with your gift. “Getting what I want.”

Thankfully, one of the agents was already logged in, so you start searching for files on the open computer. Anything is good, and the further you scroll, the more you realize that you have no idea what you’re doing. Everything is labeled with long strings of identification digits, or hidden behind password protection. 

Eventually, you manage to find an entry level subfolder on S.H.I.E.L.D. recruitment policies regarding inhumans. It’s the best you’ve got right now, so it’ll do. You whip out a flash drive to start copying stuff over, and that is when everything goes wrong. 

Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. knows enough about foiling break-ins to regularly check in on agents guarding their doors. Your receptionist must not have woken up in time to answer a call, or somebody passed by and realized that she was slumped over her desk instead of monitoring new arrivals. Regardless, you’re suddenly running on far less time than before, and people are going to start searching for you. You need to hurry this up.

Already, you can hear the sound of footsteps pounding down the halls. Someone tries the knob on your door, jiggles it a few times, then calls for backup. They’ve found you. Swearing under your breath, you silently beg the computer to hurry up. There’s only one door in this room, which is currently facing opposition from agents trying to get in, so you obviously can’t use that.

There is, however, a window on the far side, which looks to be just wide enough for you to get out. You reach in your backpack and pull out your uniform, the one you use whenever you have to go out on Official Inhuman Activity Time without a disguise like the one you’re wearing now. It features a mask, which is the main reason you want to have it on. A hoodie will only do you so much good when you’re running for your life, and you can’t afford to be found out.

The computer beeps at you as you’re zipping up the last couple inches of your uniform. You shove your clothes into your bag and race over to it. The door splinters to your left and you quickly change directions, tapping the oncoming guards on any exposed parts of skin so you can force them into unconsciousness. It won’t last long, especially since more and more agents are pouring down the hallway towards you, but it can at least buy you some time.

You run back to the computer and grab your flash drive before exiting out of the file locations. Turning your attention to the window, you examine it for latches and levers, anything to let you out. There’s a knob on the side and you twist it, causing the pane of glass to pull out towards you. A fire escape style railing winds treacherously down to the ground, but you doubt you’ll have enough time to jog down the remaining flights of stairs before they find you.

Looking behind you at the rapidly approaching squadrons of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, though, you’re not sure that you have much of a choice. You fling yourself out the window before you can talk yourself out of it, then close the glass panel behind you in an attempt to disguise your exit, not that it will make much difference.

Guards are starting to amass on the ground beneath you, so instead of running down the stairs, you run up, towards the roof. From there, you’re able to start running across the flat tops of the buildings, hoping to make it towards a nearby commercial district before you’re caught.

Someone lands on the roof beside you before you can get very far, though. Judging by the flash of electric blue in his eyes, and the hammer clasped firmly in his hands, you’ve made an enemy of a very powerful Norse god. This is exactly what you’d been hoping to avoid.

Thor frowns at you. “Stop right there, mortal. You have something of ours.”

You nod. “Okay. Can I hand it over now?”

Thor’s eyes narrow. “Really?”

You smile as disarmingly as you can. “Yeah, really. Giving it to you as we speak.”

You walk slowly towards Thor, flash drive held up so he can see it, but just before you drop it into his awaiting palm, you reach for his wrist instead. Putting Thor to sleep is far harder than your garden variety agent, and it takes almost all of your willpower to manage it, but when you blink hard after a sudden bout of intense dizziness, he’s suddenly sprawled on the ground in front of you.

You laugh, elated. You just put a god to sleep. You just put a god to sleep!

There’s a whir of helicopter blades overhead, and you start running again. It’s sometimes hard to remember being chased by a massive government organization when you’ve taken down the crown prince of Asgard. Everyone has their own priorities.

You reach the edge of a building, and come to a hasty stop. The next building isn’t as close as you thought, and the thought of messing up a jump and having your mission come to a hasty end isn’t all that appetizing, but you don’t have much of a choice.

At last, you get a running start, and take off before you can stop yourself. You only manage to careen through the air for about a couple feet, though, before someone collides with you. This someone, as it turns out, would be Spider-Man, at least judging by the red and blue suit and the rope of spiderweb he’s been using to swing into you.

You glare at him, frustrated. “You’re not supposed to be here, you know.”

You’re fairly sure that he’s grinning. “Funny, I could say the same thing about you. You know, the last time we fought, you swore that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I don’t,” you offer, but he doesn’t seem to believe you.

“Then why are you at the Avengers complex? Honestly, I appreciate the attention, but we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

You roll your eyes, trying and failing to knock him unconscious through the material of his suit. “Yeah, quit it. Give me your skin.”

You swear you can see the eyes on his mask widen. “What the fuckdoes that mean?”

You grin in spite of yourself. “This.”

You scan his uniform, searching for any inch of available skin, but you can’t find it. By pure luck, your eyes catch on a seam between his shoulders and his jawline, as if the suit itself separates out into a mask and torso piece. You seize upon the opportunity, yanking the bottom edge of the mask up just enough to reveal an inch or two of skin.

 Spider-Man attempts to twist away from you, but it’s too late, and you’re desperately pressing your hand to the bare space above his collarbone. It takes just a moment for it to work, for his body to sag in your arms. 

The two of you are definitely still swinging between skyscrapers, though, so you curl the fingers of your free hand around the webbed rope and hold on for dear life until you can come to a rolling stop on a nearby roof. Your arms ache as if they’ve been pulled out of their sockets, and your entire body is screaming in outrage, but you’re alive, at least. 

So is Spider-Man, albeit asleep. You may be fighting the Avengers, and by extension, him, but that doesn’t mean you want to drop him off the side of a building. Contrary to anything you’d ever tell the masked hero, you have found yourself covering up a laugh or two at his sarcastic remarks, and he’s the only Avengers affiliate you think might actually win fights for the people of this city instead of a public victory for S.H.I.E.L.D. and their men. 

You drag yourself over to the section of the roof where Spider-Man lies. He’s breathing, which is good. However, his mask has ridden up on his face during the crash landing onto the roof, revealing a sliver of a smile. 

You freeze in place, hand extended to pull down the mask. You know that smile, that corner of a mouth just shadowed under the recesses of the mask. You saw it just an hour or so ago. This is—

Oh, no, this is Peter Parker. This is the boy you were studying with earlier today, the one who walks with you to your locker in between classes no matter how far away his next room is, the one who has been your best friend since the dawn of time and who has also been the masked hero trying to take you down for months. 

You jerk away from him, crumpling into a tangle of limbs and folded arms and awful, awful realizations. You can’t take this, not now. Not with the heavy din of S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopters still clamoring overhead, trying to find you. 

You’re not going to give up on trying to dismantle the Avengers’ stringent recruitment policies when it comes to inhumans, but this has definitely thrown a wrench in your plans. Peter is already starting to come to, so you force yourself to tug the mask back down over his face so he’ll never know. 

You’re long gone by the time Peter Parker wakes up, already forced into the shadows by the agents combing the rooftops in search of the villain they’ll never capture. You’re forced to take a long, irregular way home due to search patrols, and by the time you finally make it back to your room, night has long since fallen. You change out of your uniform on the way back, then let yourself into your room.

At last, safe within the confines of your apartment, you let yourself relax. You draw a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut tight. You nearly died about a dozen times, and for what? You have no idea if the information on your flash drive will be useful whatsoever, and you’ve got to grapple with the fact that you’re likely going to have to keep going toe to toe with Peter whenever you try to work on your Saving Alyna crusade. You can’t keep this up.

The door swings open, and you flinch. Standing over the threshold between the hallway and your bedroom is Peter Parker, as if you’ve summoned him there by mere thought alone. You remember fleetingly that you were supposed to have a study session tonight, which you’ve probably missed. Shoot.

Peter’s mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “Sorry for startling you, I let myself in. You’re only a couple minutes late,” he answers in response to your silent question, “so don’t worry about it.”

He takes a hesitant step into the room, then frowns, eyes casting searchlight beams over your skin. “Y/N, you’re covered in bruises. Is everything alright?”

You glance down at yourself and grimace. You took several hard hits trying to escape the Avengers complex, and it’s showing now. At least you’re out of your Nightmare uniform, but you look like you got into a fight with a brick wall and lost.

You rub a tired hand over your eyes. “I, uh, tripped going down a flight of stairs. Like, a really long flight of stairs. It’s been a rough afternoon.”

Peter nods slowly, although you can’t tell if he entirely buys your lie or not. “Yeah, I can see that. I’m assuming you were held up because of all the traffic in the area, it took me forever to get here, too. Someone tried to break into the Avengers facility and now it feels like the city is being monitored by police.”

A sudden light dawns behind his eyes. “Wait a minute. You left a couple minutes early from school, as set out by a specific alert on your phone. You came back late. You’re covered in bruises.”

You really, really don’t like where this is going. “Your point is?”

Peter clasps his hands together in front of him as if he’s about to deliver a killer presentation. “You’re an Avenger. I mean, it’s hard to tell which one, because I thought I knew who a lot of them were, but we seem to be getting more by the day. Really, though. Are you an Avenger?”

You laugh before you can stop yourself, the sound like that of a lunatic. “An Avenger? No, Peter. God, no.”

In fact, you couldn’t be further from being an Avenger. You’re literally doing your best to make sure there are as few Avengers as possible. Oh, if only he knew the irony of that very question.

“Well, put it that way, and it makes it seem absurd. I’ll still be holding out hope, though.” He says.

Peter has started to turn a faint red, but all you can think about is that this was a very, very near miss. You need to be more careful, especially now that you know Peter is Spider-Man. If you were smart, you would start cutting ties with him, and make sure that Peter has as few chances as possible to figure you out.

However, you need your best friend more than anything. So, you just laugh along with him, then start to pull out your notebooks for the study session. You consider him, sitting across from you, head bowed over the latest calculus homework, and make one decisive choice. You’re not giving him up. Not now, not ever. It might destroy you, but leaving Peter behind would kill you far faster than any secret identity reveal. You just hope that he’ll extend you that same courtesy if he ever finds you out.

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Peter Parker, after explaining his plan: You think that this is a bad idea.

Loki, smirking: Without a doubt.

Peter Parker: Then why are you smiling?

Loki: Because bad ideas are my favorite kind.

Imagine Loki finding you passed out on the floor.

Imagine loki being overjoyed to be reunited with you after thinking you died trying to protect him.

Imagine having ice powers and Loki being shocked when he sees you use them for the first time.

Imagine Loki being excited that your trapped together on a distant planet.