Chapter Text
“Okay, we’re gonna have to talk about this,” Cindy says, laying out their phones on the center of the table. “I think we can all agree that this is all levels of stupid.”
“Yup,” Sally says, chin up and resting on her hand. “Did you hear about Saturday?”
“That is…right…here,” Abe says, tapping his phone. The screen lights up again, having just faded.
Charles tilts his head, twisting to stand over the phone. “Where from?”
“Kips Bay AMC,” Ned sighs, rubbing his face with both hands. “You know? Where—”
“Where literally no one goes, yeah—my cousin watches opening day movies there,” Sally says, eyes widening in an annoyed stare at the phone.
“I don’t see it,” Flash says, rolling his eyes. “So they’re at the movies. So?”
Ned raises his hand as Cindy adds, “Weren’t with Ned.”
“MJ’s way above Parker’s paygrade,” Flash snorts.
Sally starts: “I’m personally glad you stopped being a—”
“Language,” Charles facilitates.
“—I was going to say, ‘intellectual and social delinquent’. Anyway. I’m glad you’re not that bad anymore—” Sally continues.
“Hey,” Flash frowns, straightening his chin.
“Flash, let Sal finish,” Cindy says, rubbing her temples.
Flash nods, sighing.
“As I was saying,” Sally says, throwing him an evil eye, “you’re not that bad anymore. But you really need to get over your whole downgrading of Peter’s, like, general not-uselessness.”
The rest of the table nod along, heavy on the judging stares.
“Fine,” Flash huffs, crossing his arms. “But only because if you guys are right, Cap shouldn’t be with anyone second-rate.”
“It’s so weird that you care,” Ned blanks, squinting.
“It’s weirder that you can sound like either of them,” Abe quips.
“He right,” Charles points.
Ned shrugs. “I’m like their child. What’s Flash’s excuse?”
“MJ and I have an understanding,” Flash says, in his High Society voice.
“We were all there, Thompson—I don’t think we need a reminder of modern D-Day,” Sally says pointedly, tapping on the phones again. “So. Saturday?”
“Movies, no Ned, mostly empty theater—got it,” Flash says lazily, counting off with his fingers. “So. Your point?”
“Witnesses report handholding,” Abe says, tapping on the other phones. More photos of the same place, with the same people, but in differing angles. “And, we have evidence.”
“How did you even get these?” Ned asks, face scrunched.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Cindy says flatly, and that’s that.
Abe gestures for them to all come closer as he zooms in on a photo on Charles’ phone. “Hands? Together. Eyes? Hearts.” He turns to Flash. “Still a skeptic?”
Flash clicks his tongue. Huff. “Well…fine. Can’t argue with that—it’s HD.”
“I really think whoever took this needs to never take these again,” Ned says, a hand raised. “Like, for privacy.”
“We’ve cut ties,” Cindy says solemnly.
“Cindy, that’s genuinely disturbing,” Sally says, frowning deeply.
“I think receiving weird-ass PI-style photographs brought us well past disturbing.”
“She right,” Charles nods. He opens a bag of Doritos, offering it to everyone.
“No thanks,” Ned says, then: “So what’s the plan?”
“‘s all on you, Leeds,” Sally says, stretching back. “You’re the closest.”
“You’ve gotta know something,” Charles says, quirking a brow. He tilts the bag of chips to Cindy and Flash and they take handfuls of the snack. “Napkins over there—and, like, there’s no way they’re gonna tell the rest of us anything.”
“Actually,” Cindy coughs, “MJ did mention something about Peter looking particularly, ah, ‘well-put’ is what she said, I believe—well-put, when we were at the library doing prep last week.”
Ned giggles. “Oh, yeah—she’s screwed.” His smile switches to a smirk, and he hunches a little, mob boss style. “What d’ya wanna know?”
Abe grins, jaw dropped.
Cindy whistles a little.
Sally turns to Charles, and they high-five.
Flash looks around at everyone, the feigned nonchalance dissipating from his face. “Everything?”
“Oh, he’s gonna be the worst outta all of us,” Charles snorts. He hands Flash the entire Doritos bag.
Flash quirks a brow.
“For the pit you’re about to find yourself in,” Charles nods.
Flash takes it, keeping quiet as Ned clears his throat.
“Alright,” Ned starts, cracking his neck, “only the evidence, and vague on details, because they’re still my BFFs.”
“Understandable,” Abe says, waving for him to continue.
Ned stands and starts opening different apps on their phones, scrolling through each to create a digital evidence board. He points at Flash’s phone. “Okay. So. Where it all really started, in my humble opinion—the Europe trip…”