the Dalaverse

For veronica_rich. I saw the movie again last night, so I picked my train passenger. Also, I don't know if Mary Jane would like football in canon, but I had to do something to make her interesting.



Acquaintance



Peter’s not big on football, or sports in general really – that whole science nerd thing was more than just a label, and he doesn’t have a lot of time to catch up now that he is marginally less of an outcast. But Mary Jane likes it, and Mr. Jameson happens to have a couple extra tickets to a Giants game, so he takes her one chilly Sunday in November. Throughout the first half he keeps an eye out for police choppers, but so far, so good.

Deep into the third quarter, he turns to MJ and asks if she wants a soda.

“Diet Coke, please,” she says, squeezing his hand, though she doesn’t take her eyes away from the game. Peter waits patiently for the crowd to rise on its own; the quarterback throws a forty-yard pass into the other team’s red zone, and his path is clear.

He orders her drink and gets a water for himself, wrinkling his nose at the exorbitant stadium prices. The guy in the line next to him finishes at the same time. Peter steps back to let him go by, since he’s laden with hot dogs and fries as well as a couple of beers.

“Hey...don’t I know you?” The guy has paused, looking at him with his eyes narrowed. He’s wearing a Redskins jersey with a black leather jacket over it.

Peter smiles amiably at him. “Don’t think so.” The guy shrugs and turns, and Peter sees the American flag across the back of his jacket. He’s seen it somewhere before, he’s sure of it –

The guy turns back around suddenly, sidestepping a cotton candy vender. He juggles his load well enough to be able to point a finger. “I do know you.” His voice lowers suddenly. “You stopped the train...didn’t you?”

Peter sucks in a breath. He doesn’t remember that part of the day very well, much less the individual faces of the train’s passengers. “I don’t –”

“It’s okay.” A smile breaks across the man’s broad face. “I never told anybody, but I’m glad I got this opportunity to thank you. I was visiting my sister and her kids that day.”

“I didn’t –” Peter tries again, weakly.

The guy nods slowly. “Right, I get it. You just keep up the good work, man.” He grins at Peter again before vanishing into the stands. Peter walks the few sections over to his own seat.

“Thanks,” says Mary Jane, kissing him on the cheek. She leans back, tilting her head quizzically. “You okay? You look kind of spooked.”

“I’m fine,” says Peter, taking a sip of his water. “What’d I miss?”

She launches off into an explanation about rushing passes and holding. Peter listens with one ear, scanning the rows to his left. He doesn’t see the man in the leather flag jacket, which is a good thing.

Still, he smiles down at his lap when the people around him jump to their feet once again.