… Mary Jane "MJ" Watson
Chemistry class was a blur.
She used to pay attention. She liked watching formulas come together, complex structures take shape. There was something comforting about understanding how things connected — like the world made sense, at least for those fifty minutes.
But today, all she could see was him.
Aidan Quinn.
He wasn't new. He'd been in the same class for months, maybe longer. The guy who sat in the back, cracked jokes — sometimes funny, sometimes just… gone. The kind of guy who flirted casually with anything that breathed, including her, during those random moments she never really took seriously.
Until now.
Because something about him had changed.
The way he talked? More direct.
The smile? Sharper.
But what really caught MJ's attention — what held it — were his eyes.
She had never really noticed them before.
Not like this.
Light blue, almost crystal-clear, but deep. Like they carried layers, secrets, reflections of things no one else had ever seen. And just under his left eye, a tiny beauty mark — subtle, but… enchanting. Almost like it was placed there on purpose.
It gave him this unfair kind of charm, like the universe had drawn a permanent exclamation point on his face.
He looked like a movie character in the middle of an ordinary classroom.
And she hated to admit it, but…
It worked.
During lunch, when everyone started heading to the cafeteria, MJ noticed something strange.
No one came with her.
Gwen had gone straight to the science lab.
Betty was "in a meeting with the paper."
Liz had tutoring.
It was like everyone knew — consciously or not — that she and Aidan needed space.
And there he was, leaning against the hallway wall with a lopsided grin, waiting like the world moved on his time.
"Lunch?" he asked.
She shrugged, playing it cool.
"If you're paying…"
"Of course. Just don't expect me to eat healthy."
They headed to the side yard — where the lazier (and usually more interesting) students liked to eat. The old tree's shadow stretched across their bench. MJ sat with her sandwich; he plopped down next to her with a soda and a sketchy-looking granola bar.
They talked. Laughed.
Nothing forced. Nothing scripted.
Aidan was quick. Charismatic. Teasing. But not in a gross way — there was a rhythm to it. A game. He knew exactly how much to push, when to hold back, and how to let the air hang heavy with possibility.
"So, MJ~" he said, eyes on the sky like it was just a random thought, "if someone wanted to kiss you… would they need to ask first, or just hope to get lucky with a magic lightning bolt?"
She laughed, taking a slow bite of her apple.
"Depends."
"On what?"
She turned her head toward him, half-smiling.
"If the eyes are pretty enough, maybe they don't even have to ask."
Aidan turned to face her. His ridiculously blue eyes catching the light, that damn mark under his eye making them even more intense.
MJ felt her face heat up. Just a little. But enough to be mad at her own body.
He smiled.
"Just maybe?"
"Just maybe", she replied.
And for a moment, everything went quiet.
MJ couldn't look away from his eyes.
There was electricity in the air. That slow-building tension right before the inevitable. The kind of silence that only happens when two worlds are about to crash into each other in a single, simple moment — a moment that could change everything.
Then Aidan leaned in.
Slowly. No rush. His eyes locked on hers. His smile fading into something more serious. More intimate.
She didn't move.
She didn't want to move.
Her breath caught between her lips. And when he got close enough — when she was sure this was it — when she wanted it to happen—
He stopped.
Just two inches away.
MJ blinked, confused.
What?
She almost said something, almost asked — when he opened his mouth first.
"… Crap."
And that's when she heard it too.
"Aidan Quinn."
The voice was firm. Clear.
Female.
Authoritative.
They both turned at the same time.
Walking toward them from the stone path to the courtyard was a woman. Low heels. Dark blazer. An unreadable expression. Brown hair pulled into a neat bun. Eyes sharp like scalpels.
A stranger. Definitely not a school staff member.
But… definitely not ordinary.
She didn't have a badge. No uniform. She didn't need one. She had that aura — the kind that makes people answer questions they didn't want to hear in the first place.
MJ narrowed her eyes.
"Who is she?"
Aidan was already stepping away from the bench. Smile still there — but his eyes were alert now.
"No idea. Probably some school consultant. Or someone from the government. Maybe she wants to talk about my outstanding academic performance."
The woman stopped just a few steps in front of him.
"Can we speak in private?"
MJ stood up, arms crossed, staring the woman down with natural suspicion.
She didn't like being interrupted. And definitely not during a near-kiss.
"What's this about exactly?" she asked, firm.
The woman looked at MJ for a moment. Serious. Almost analyzing. But when she replied, it was with formal politeness:
"Nothing serious. Just… a protocol matter."
Aidan sighed dramatically, putting on a little show.
"MJ, if I don't come back, I was probably recruited by the government to save the world. Please cry at my funeral."
"You just want me thinking about the kiss you didn't give me."
He winked.
"Is it working?"
She raised an eyebrow.
But… smiled.
He followed the mysterious woman down the side hallway. The two disappeared out of sight.
MJ stood there, arms crossed, still feeling the heat of the moment that almost happened.
And her head?
Absolutely buzzing with questions.
… Aidan Quinn
The taste of the almost-kiss was still on my lips.
Yeah, I know "almost" doesn't technically have a taste. But when it's with MJ Watson, trust me — it does. It's the taste of anticipation. Of perfectly built tension. And, of course, the silent curse known as interruptions at the worst possible moment.
The woman who called me away knew that. She had that calculated look — like she knew exactly what she was interrupting and didn't feel a shred of guilt about it.
I turned to her as we walked down the school's side corridor, far from the curious eyes of teenagers too busy with tests, likes, and theories about who hooked up with who after the alien attack.
"Just for the record…" I started, casually, "…you've already started this conversation with negative points."
She didn't even look at me.
"Figured."
There was something in the way she spoke. Precise. Measured. Like every word was weighed on a scale before leaving her mouth. Classic spy energy.
She didn't need a badge. The haircut, the suit, the way her eyes scanned everything around us — she practically screamed quiet authority.
We crossed into the admin wing and entered a small room that was clearly prepped ahead of time.
Perfect AC. Discreet camera in the corner. Frosted window.
Everything set up for the kind of conversation people have when they know too much.
She sat at the table and gestured for me to take the seat across from her.
"Sit down, Quinn."
"Are we doing an interrogation or is this your version of a date? Tone really sets the vibe here."
She ignored me, obviously.
Picked up a tablet and started.
"Full name?"
"Aidan Quinn. Born in Queens. Second floor, left-hand side."
"Age?"
"Seventeen. Physically. Mentally? Depends on the day. Today… maybe twenty-five."
She stared at me for a second.
Analyzing.
Trying to figure out where the lies started and where the truth ended.
Perfect.
"You were directly involved in the Battle of New York?"
"Was there. Survived. Smiled for the camera. Signed an autograph for someone's dog."
"We identified you from drone footage. But you weren't alone."
Ah. There it is.
The real reason for this chat.
"The girl next to you… do you know who she is?"
"Of course I do. She's mine."
"Yours…?"
"My responsibility. My roommate. My personal goth. Pick whichever one sounds cooler."
She took a slow breath.
"Can you give me her name?"
I smiled.
Slowly.
Leaning forward, resting my arms on the table, voice dropping lower.
"And can you tell me why you didn't flash a badge, a logo, or anything that says 'government' before interrupting the best moment of my day?"
She didn't react. But her silence? Yeah, that was an answer.
"We only have visual data", Hill continued, sliding the tablet over so I could see.
It was Raven. Floating. Surrounded by darkness. Looking down like she was judging entire worlds.
"This is what our organization received. No ID. No records. No genetic signature in any national database."
"Maybe she just doesn't like being photographed", I replied. "You should see how she reacts to retina scans."
"Aidan, this is serious. Your friend is a security risk. And you were with her —protecting her — while she manipulated energy we can't classify. The question is simple."
She leaned forward.
"Do you know what she is?"
I looked at Hill for a long beat.
Then smiled. Slow. Amused.
"Oh, Agent-no-badge-with-boss-vibes… I know a lot of things. But knowing and telling? Those are like covalent bonds — require a little exchange."
She narrowed her eyes.
I kept going:
"Take me to dinner. Get me a coffee. Or hey, give me back that kiss I almost got earlier. Then maybe I'll share some secrets."
She let out a deep, tired breath.
"You seriously think charm is gonna work on me?"
"No. But I figured you expected me to try."
Silence.
Then, finally, she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.
And for the first time… she smiled. Just a little.
"You're a problem."
"Yeah. But I'm a polite problem. And charming."
She shut off the tablet. Slid it back into her folder.
"We'll talk again."
"Great. Next time, send a text. And not in the middle of an almost-kiss. I've got a reputation to maintain."
She stood up, didn't reply.
I followed, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.
The day was far from over.
And I still had a lot of people to mess with, flirt with… and maybe — if I get five minutes of peace — finally kiss.
…
The rest of the day went by in a blur.
After that chat with Miss No-Badge-Government-Lady, my head was still spinning. And not because of the classified talk or the looming threat of being constantly watched.
No.
It was because of the interrupted kiss.
That damn moment frozen in time — bodies ready, eyes closing, the world holding its breath — and then someone hits pause.
But the universe can be fair… sometimes. Because when the final bell rang, MJ walked up to me in the courtyard like nothing had happened. But her look?
It said everything.
There was heat. Tension. Curiosity.
Desire tied up in pride.
"You disappeared."
"Apparently I'm in high demand. Government, mysteries, obligations. But I'm here now."
"You must be terrible at apologizing."
"Yeah. But I'm great at compensations."
She bit her bottom lip.
Just for a second. But it was enough to make me forget we were in public.
The courtyard was empty. Shadows stretched long from the buildings. That late afternoon glow painted the sky in gold — the kind of gold that only shows up when something important's about to happen.
We locked eyes.
Again.
Just like last time.
I stepped in slowly, hands easy, not pushing. MJ didn't back away. If anything — she leaned in, too. Her eyes closing slowly. So did mine.
Our lips met.
First, her taste. A little like coffee. A hint of apple. Something else I couldn't describe — only feel.
And then—
"Aidan?"
Peter.
Fucking Peter.
The kiss broke. MJ opened her eyes, startled.
I turned, blood boiling.
Peter Parker.
Innocent. Nervous.
Interrupting what was about to be the highlight of my entire day.
"Do you have any idea what you just did?" I asked, voice low. Almost gentle.
Almost.
Peter blinked, shoulders scrunching up.
"I… I just wanted to talk… about… yesterday…"
"Parker, listen carefully." I took a step forward. "If you don't turn around right now, the nicest thing I'm gonna do is bury your head in the ground until you hit the Earth's core."
Silence dropped.
Peter froze. Literally.
And that's when MJ stepped back.
"No", she said. Not to me. Not to him. To the whole moment. "Today's not your lucky day, tiger."
She turned, bangs falling into her face. Quick. Decisive. But her fingers still touched her lips.
She paused like she might say something.
But didn't.
She just walked away.
Leaving me and Peter standing there.
One of us with frustration stuck in his throat. The other with fear written all over his face.
"You should work on your timing, Parker", I muttered, already turning away.
"I… I'm sorry?"
"Too late."
And there I was again.
Still tasting her on my lips.
And stuck with that damn feeling that the universe just loves to cut me off.
… Jean Grey
There was something sacred about the Xavier Institute's meeting room.
Not because of the architecture — though the tall stained glass window with the X-Men symbol glowing in natural light definitely added to it. And not because of the silence either.
It was who was in the room.
Professor Xavier, seated calmly, hands folded in his lap, eyes locked on every word — like he wasn't just hearing what was said, but catching everything that wasn't.
And next to him, Ororo Munroe, posture flawless, expression serene — the only person in existence who could make a thunderstorm feel like polite conversation.
Jean stood next to Scott, who was leading the report.
"The team split into three during the Manhattan evacuation", Scott explained with his usual precision. "Kurt, Kitty, and Rogue handled the outer areas. Ororo provided aerial support and disabled several ships. Jean and I operated directly in the mid-risk zone — three blocks south of Stark Tower."
The Professor nodded, absorbing the information.
Ororo added, calm as always, "The evacuation was efficient. Fewer casualties than expected, considering the threat level."
Scott hesitated for a moment.
Then continued.
"While moving through the area, we encountered two unaffiliated individuals."
Ororo raised a brow.
"The same ones you mentioned earlier? The young ones?"
Jean closed her eyes briefly, remembering the scene.
The destruction. The weight in the air. The way light bent unnaturally. Raven, floating like chaos didn't even register.
She nodded.
Scott went on, "Yes. A boy and a girl. The boy identified himself as Aidan Quinn. The girl — Raven."
Jean stepped in, her voice softer.
"They weren't hostile. Actually… they helped. Fighting alongside them was far less chaotic than you'd expect from two strangers in the middle of an invasion. Aidan stayed calm the whole time. And the girl — Raven — she only used force when he gave the go-ahead. It was… almost weird."
The Professor tilted his head.
"Weird how?"
Jean hesitated.
The memory was still vivid — the darkened sky, the way shadows devoured light around them, and the sound of her own mind trying to reach his… and hitting nothing.
"He's blocked. Completely."
"Blocked like a trained telepath?" Ororo asked.
Jean shook her head.
"No. It's different. I've felt mental barriers before. Psychic defenses. This… this was something else. Like he's not even on the same frequency as me."
Scott crossed his arms, his signature suspicious look settling in.
"You tried to force a read?"
Jean frowned slightly.
"I tried to get close. But it was like trying to reach the bottom of a lake and finding out there isn't one. No thoughts. No images. No emotions. He was there, smiling, talking to me — but mentally… it was like he didn't exist."
The room went quiet again.
"And the girl?" the Professor asked.
"Dark. Literally. Some kind of energy manipulation that felt more magical than mutant. She was powerful, but… holding back. By choice. And only acted when Aidan gave the signal. No words. Just a look."
Ororo pursed her lips slightly.
"Emotional bond?"
Jean nodded.
"Strong. But not dependent. She could've taken us out right there if she wanted. But she trusted him. And he… he knew that. The whole time."
Scott's voice came out a little firmer now.
"I didn't like him. It's hard to trust someone who never seems worried."
Jean gave a faint, knowing smile.
"But that's exactly what makes him so dangerous, isn't it? He knows too much. Or maybe he's seen too much."
The Professor studied her for several long seconds.
She knew he was picking up on something inside her — some emotional echo. The restlessness Aidan had left behind.
"Do you think he's a threat?"
She sighed.
"No. Not right now. But if he chooses to be… yeah. Easily."
The Professor then turned to Ororo.
"I believe we need to make contact. Passive observation won't be enough."
Scott immediately pushed back.
"You want to bring them here?"
"No", the Professor said, calm as ever. "I want to understand them. Especially someone whose mind not even Jean can reach."
Jean crossed her arms again, turning to look out the window, where the last of the daylight filtered through the stained glass.
Ororo exchanged a glance with Charles.
Then he said, with the calm certainty only he could bring in the face of the unknown:
"Then maybe it's time we go to him. Before someone else does."
… Aidan Quinn
I sneezed.
Loud. Outta nowhere.
"Someone's talking about me", I muttered, rubbing my nose. "Hope it's a redhead."
I stretched out on the couch, lazily turning my head toward Raven, who was sitting cross-legged, reading a book old enough to probably come with a built-in curse.
"By the way", I started, in my most innocent, clearly-up-to-something voice, "I was thinking of sleeping in your room tonight."
She raised an eyebrow without even looking up.
"You were thinking wrong."
"What? Why? Afraid you'll like it?"
That was all I managed to get out before I felt the sudden crackle of shadow energy wrapping around me.
"Raven, wait—"
Puff.
In a blink, I was launched into my own room, landing flat on my back on the bed with freakish precision.
The door slammed shut behind me.
Magically locked, obviously.
I stared at the ceiling for a solid few seconds.
"Well… that felt like a maybe."