#farfromhelpless

Things were different here. Some of the changes were colossal, like people being alive when they’d been dead in his world. Others were smaller, like the sign above the door of his favorite cafe having a dent in it that hadn’t been there in his universe. And some changes were just... someplace in between. Sam hadn’t known an MJ Watson in his universe but, in this one, she was Tony Stark’s personal assistant, Peter Parker’s girlfriend. 

And she was pretty fucking cool. 

Sam liked her. He understood, without asking, why Tony trusted her so immensely, why Peter loved her so entirely. MJ Watson was a badass. And Sam wanted to get to know her better, wanted to befriend the person all his friends in this world already seemed to know. Inviting her for coffee seemed like a good way to do it.

“Now,” he greeted as he sat down at the table, “I hate to be that guy, but I don’t actually have any cash. Didn’t get my bank accounts transferred over, you know how it is. Think you can spot me?”

The alarms were blaring, loud and jarring. It started about five minutes ago, with the robotic voice of one of Stark’s A.I.s coming from the ceiling and announcing the evacuation order. Miguel had been in the lab, studying his findings and so lost in them that he hadn’t even heard the warnings until Lyla chirped in his ear and informed him that dying was not on his schedule today, but she could update it if his plans had changed. The words woke him up, made him realize he had to go, slipped the papers from his hands and scattered them to the floor... but he still hadn’t run. 

Miguel wasn’t afraid. He’d lived through a dystopian shocking future, fought robots and addiction and evil corporate overlords and their assassins. If his hands were trembling, it was only because he’d skipped lunch. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a moment to orient himself before dropping to his knees, quickly beginning to gather up the file he’d dropped. Whoever was infiltrating the Tower, he wasn’t going to let them get their hands on his work.

The door to the lab swung open, and Miguel tensed. Hands tightening to fists, Miguel straightened and readied himself for a fight. It wasn’t until he met the eyes of the lab’s new occupant that he relaxed, even if only slightly. “If you came here to irritate me,” he said, “now’s not a good time.” His voice was tighter than it usually was. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t. He was just... stressed, was all.

“Is it supposed to, uh, be smoking like that?” Cassie tried not to grimace, she really did, but sitting at MJ’s apartment kitchen counter and seeing the state of the food she was making was more than enough cause for concern. She was glad to have MJ as a friend, to have a female friend in general. Her best friends were all guys, and as much as she loved them, loved her team, it was hard to feel fully included sometimes with the three boys. Some days it felt like it was the boys then it was Cassie, wanting desperately to feel like a part of the group than just an attempt at keeping them in line for the most part. MJ was a breath of fresh air, glad she had someone she could talk to and not feel like she was totally out of her depth.

“Do you want me to help...?” Cassie finally decided to offer, knowing MJ was deadset on cooking for her while they were having their girls' day. “I’m the kid of a single mom, I’m used to having to cook for myself. I got a few skills I could show you—that’s boiling over—if you want! It’s up to you.” She held back her fond laughter at how hard her friend was trying. 

It had been a purely instinctive decision. Jon had been on his way back home after grabbing a bite to eat to avoid the apartment while Kon and Cassie were in one of their lovey, dovey moods (gross). He had passed by a girl the moment her heel had snapped on her shoe. Quickly, Jon surged forward to steady her so that she didn’t fall. “Oh geez, are you alright?” He asked quickly with a frown on his face, it turned into a grimace at the state of the shoe. “That doesn’t look good or wearable.” 

The thought crosses Jon’s mind and he pauses as he looks at the girl, “you need a piggyback? I promise I don’t mean anything by it!” He added quickly as an afterthought, “if it helps I’m not into girls. Like at all. You’re all beautiful and terrifying, but I bat for my own team.” There was an embarrassed expression a beat late and he sighed heavily, “seriously though. You don’t want to walk the New York streets like that. Who knows what kinda gunk you’ll step into. Promise I can make it to at least a nearby store if you plan to buy shoes or wherever you’re headed. I’m your guy.”

America narrowed her eyes as MJ spoke, tilting her head and trying to decide whether or not she was joking. Deciding to take the statement as fact, she nodded. “And God knows better than to look,” she added, smirking and wriggling her brows. MJ was probably being sarcastic, but America had learned at a very young age that the best way to be happy was to pretend things were always going to work out for you. Eventually, the multiverse would prove you right. “I’d ask where you’ve been, but I guess I’m the one who has to answer that, huh?”