#event:lny

He was fidgety, nervous, tired. The music was loud, the lights were bright, but the food smelled amazing, and he knew he needed to get out of the house eventually. (And, no, patrol didn’t count.) This was as good an excuse as any. Drink in one hand, spring roll in another, jacket wrapped tightly against him, Peter stood in the shadow of a stall, chewing, watching. “Mmhm, yeah, okay,” he said, mouth still full of spring roll, “if I can snag, like, five more of these, I think it’ll solve every problem in my life. Except student debt. Take that one up with the government.”

The lady selling noodles seemed worried by the band-aids on his face, but Clint just shrugged. “This?” he said, pointing at the strip of fabric across his nose. “Work hazard. Comes with the territory, y’know? Got it taking down the mob--yeah, all of ‘em. You should see the other guy.” He paid for the food and grinned, then winced. (Yeah, okay. Hurt to smile. Nose was definitely broken. At least it wasn’t a Hello Kitty band-aid this time!) He twirled the noodles with his chopsticks, slurped a long mouthful, and turned to the person beside him. “What? You never seen an Avenger before? We’re not all gods.”

“Look, sir,” they said, pleading with a bartender. “Please, I promise I’m twenty-one. I just... no, I don’t have ID. It’s... It’s complicated. Can you just trust me on this one? Please?” After another refusal, Jon turned to the person next to him. “Any chance you wanna vouch for me here?”