Bombshell

Homecoming Hangover

When I wake up, a blanket of darkness is wafted over me, the slightest hint of light in the horizon. The sun is coming up. I'm wrapped in physical blankets and there's a light breeze drifting above me. I pull out my phone, wincing at the burning of my mangled arms. It's still only three am. Flashes of what happened last night kept sourcing through my mind, bringing back flashbacks of other nights of terror. Falling from the jet, landing in the sand swarmed a fire was constantly, painfully reminding me of the last time I attempted.

Yeah, I still regret it. I was dumb enough to try, knowing in the back of my mind that I was too powerful to not survive that. Just not powerful enough for it to not hurt like a bitch for weeks. Even the damage done to my brain healed somehow. I was in a really rough spot, sick and tired of my 'parents' doing whatever they wanted with me, sick of being so powerful, sick of school, sick of just basically everything at that point. I couldn't do it, and it didn't work without my new curse, so why would it now?

Peter comes in to view from somewhere at the back of the roof. "Oh, your up. Morning," he winces, rubbing his head. He's probably in a lot of physical and emotional pain as well.

"Morning loser," I smile and say, my throat still gravelly, deepening my voice. He brings me a bottle of water, and I hastily chug it.

"Nightmares?" I ask him simply. He nods, and regardless of what happened tonight or what would happen any other night, I routinely signal him in for a hug. I wrap my arms around him, and he does the same to me, but more careful of my wounds. "It'll be alright, buddy. I think they already took care of it," I assure him, and he seems to relax a little.

"Wait a damn minute," I say, trapped in my thoughts again. It's only after big fights that I remember certain powers of mine that could've helped. "I can teleport, that would've been so much easier," I mutter with a wince, causing him to laugh at me. It's good to see him smile.

"Oh well, nothing you can do about it now. God, Brooke, sometimes I think you're too powerful. Theoretically, you could do anything." He says wishfully.

"Don't go thinking I actually like all this power now," I joke, forgetting about the fight at the drop of a hat. We sit and talk for hours until it's about 7 am, then I realize I should probably get back. And remember that Peter has school.

"Bye Pete, don't want the inferior half of the Avengers looking for me," I smile and wave, causing him to play off offense.

"Inferior? But TONY STARK!" He argues.

"Come on, dreamer boy. Get to school, punk." I wave at him. "No, no, I'm swinging you to the compound. You aren't walking like that," he says very brotherly. I reluctantly agree, realizing that I am in no way in the condition to walk or fly home.

"But you've got school! You can't just swing upstate like it's nothing," I argue.

"I can be a bit late. As long as I don't miss the decathlon meeting. Come on, let's go."

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Happy's pov, last night
——————

After getting an alert about something bad happening with the jet, I go investigate to see the damages. A bunch of pieces of it and crates from inside are stranded in the sand, ashes flying around them. I spot the bird guy the kids mentioned, webbed to a crate with a note. He looks up at me in defeat.

I pick up the note.

Don't kill this guy. Hope he gets better :)

-Your friendly neighborhood spider-man with a bit of help from the wonderful bombshell

PS don't do bad stuff like this guy. It's not cool

That boy is too sweet for this world. I shove the note in my pocket and call the police to take the guy to jail. Peter wouldn't want me to kill him. So that's where those two went last night. Homecoming must've been pretty lame for them to ditch and fight a guy on a plane. I call Tony and proudly report the business of the kids, telling him about how they did all this without any help from the Avengers, and Peter did it all without his suit.