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It started with a 'Fuck Off'

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They say the best way of knowing if someone was lying about a story, let them tell the story starting from the very end. 

America believes that that is ultimate hint for lying. She used it once or twice on a friend. It's effective. 

But fronted with the accusation of 'You're such a great sister, you brought Peter and Wade together', she says they're lying. They're blaspheming. America Chavez Stark-Rogers is not one to matchmake. She isn't one to say this person looks good with this person. How much more if the would-be couple were closely associated to her?

Enter Peter and Wade's engagement. The engagement party is happening later this month. Before hand, they had reserved the maid-of-honour slot for America (they didn't bother America with the noblesse oblige of being maid-of-honour, they'd stop her from throwing the wedding cake at the minister), much to her dismay. 

The first time America walked in on them was when she was in the general vicinity of Peter's neighborhood, she was tired after her gym workout. (Dad and Other-Dad use the home gym in both Malibu and Manhattan, she only uses the threadmill, fuck knows what her two dads use the yoga ball for.) So America drove her beloved black jeep to Peter's loft and parked in his space, because he doesn't even have a car. Next to the parking space was a red sports car, like a legit sports car. 

Aside from Dad, she knows who can also afford a sports car. (Okay, there are actually a dozen uncles that enters her mind when she thinks of money: Uncle Charles, Uncle Reed, Uncle Frank, alot.) Wade 'Can't-Shut-Up-His-Face' Wilson owns the sports car. 

So, grumbling, she took her gym bag with her up the elevator stopped at Peter's floor, walked to Peter's door, took the spare key from Peter's plant, and walked in on Wade sucking off Peter's--

"What the fuck!" America yelled as she nearly snapped her neck to look away. 

Peter quickly pulled his pants up, hair in disarray, skin flushed pink, and fucking embarassed that that just happened. Well, who wouldn't be?

Wade wiped his mouth, and stood and looked at America with a smile. "Hey!"

She couldn't look him in the eye, she just kept her angry-shocked face on the sculpture of Aristotle on the bookshelf to her right. "Courtesy call?"

Peter had ran off to his bedroom in embarassment. 

Wade places his hands on his hips, "Honey, not one human being would say 'Oh wait, 15 minutes, let me just--'"

America nudged the door close with her foot and went straight to the kitchen, she had her hand raised to make him stop talking. But that is all for naught. 

"Hey little girl, not everything revolves around you!" He says. 

She enters the kitchen, taking refuge, even though there isn't much of a wall to hide behind with. She takes the smoothie Peter made for breakfast; he makes them every morning, she ain't no stalker. 

"If the world did, then I truly am America." A fucking stereotype. America is a Utopia, Americans are arrogant and self-centered. 

The first time she caught them kissing was when it was their Dads' anniversary party. The place was basically Bahamas. A 'bring your own boat' gazebo party. Quaint

The adults were chattering with a champagne flute in their hand, the kids (the teenagers and adolescents) were with their friends or whatevs. 

America was playing Zombie Apocalypse with Billy and Teddy and they met Cassie Lang, the nice blonde who was a victim to Billy jumping when his boyfie scared the shit out of him. 

"It's okay," Cassie says as Billy wiped the juice off her bangles. Teddy and America were dubbing table napkin on her jacket. Cassie was wiping herself. "Thanks for helping me." She tells them. 

Billy kept apologizing, Cassie sheepishly telling him 'it's okay'. 

"Actually, if it's all right with you, we only need cold water to erase the mark." Teddy says candidly, as if he was raised in the laundromat. 

America and Billy gave him a questioning look. 

Teddy shrugs, "I also have the power to clean clothes, get off my back."

America snorts. They shouldn't have been playing Zombie Apocalyps in the first place, they were already in college for crying out loud. She stands up from the stairs and offers, "I'll go get some water."

"Can you also get some fruit salad?" Billy asked before she disappeared around the hall. 

America gave him a weird look, "For the stain?"

"For all off us, duh." He says. 

America shakes her head, smile on her face, "Such a biatch, Bee."

She went roaming around the halls for several minutes before she opened the door to the kitchen. And of course it wasn't the kitchen. Because she flipped the light on to the scene of Peter nearly mauling Wade's face. 

Wade glares at America, because she clearly is tongueblocking. "Do you mind?"

America, jaws parted in agape, "Of course I fucking mind, a-hole! That's my brother!"

"Adopted." Wade reminded. 

"Fuck you!" She seethed. 

Wade gestures to Peter who was quietly fixing his bowtie. "We were getting there!"

America came back to her crowd with a glass of water and a few strands of DNA in her fist. 

Most love story start with boy meets girl, boy asks girl out, girl says yes, they become a thing, and they march down the aisle. 

But this time it was a different story. 

America was in a father-daughter cooking class with Other-Dad (Steve), and they were making sugar cookies. 

Their classmates who America knew were Clint and Kate, and Uncle Reed and Valerie. 

While rest of the class were using the time to bond, Clint and Kate and America were using this opportunity to learn a life lesson in preparation for when no one's around to cook for them. 

"Honey, can you check the timer?" Steve asked as he cut his conversation with Clint. 

America and Kate were having a stare-off. America hesitatingly looked down on their table to see the eggplant timer and announced they still got approximately 4 minutes left til most of the cookies get inside their mouths. 

Clint illegaly adopted Kate, or it was the other way around. Kate comes from this aloof socialite family and she was tired off the bullshit, so she went to enroll for an archery class. There she met Clint Barton, ex-Olympian athlete, and they became besties. (Kate's BFF is Cassie, who coaxed her and Clint to take the cooking class.) 

Clint and Kate were stationed in front of them, and Other-Dad is really into the Olympics that he had each major sports event on tape. Like who even owns a VHS? Other-Dad chats up Clint every chance he got. 

America doesn't use the excuse that Kate sits in front of her to stare at her lascious calico hair, that she unconsciously combs with her hand when she's listening to the teacher. Or her endearing appearance to wear purple on her outfits everytime America sees her. Out of topic. 

So, when America went to relieve herself that Day of Thurs, and she ran into Wade Wilson. She knows him because he was on the news. He's the guy who was blamed for a cyber-massacre. Like seriously? Cyber-massacre? On a lighter note, he was cleared. 

So her first words to him were "Shouldn't you be in jail?"

And he was like, "Did I kill your brother?"

"I don't know. Are you homophobic?"

"Can I have his number?"

"If you haven't killed him, I'll give you his number."

He gave it some thought, "Yeah, I didn't kill him."

She tsked and pulls out her phone, faux disappointed, "Dammit."

That time was like a bad case of Russian Roulette. The knife was Wade, the un-knifes were Peter nearly getting engaged to Johnny Storm. 

So sorry to Johnny Storm. He has a new girlfriend, last America heard of him. 

Wade immediately called Peter, "Hey there, baby boy!"

America grew up with Peter all her life that she can basically lip-read his mind. 

Akward silence, /"Did my sister give you my number?"/

"No, she traded your life for your phone number."


Later that day, America was in the mercy of Peter's enraged nagging. But oh, how she was wrong. She saw him in the kitchen, eating cereal for dinner (Dad must be in a charity event with Aunty Pep) and his phone pressed on his ear, his feet swinging like an idle girl chatting with her bestie. 

Peter looked up as he heard her coming in the kitchen. He salutes her with a nod and resumes talking on the phone. 

Like, hello? America just gave your digits to a complete stranger. No 'what the absolute fruck?', no pulling of hair? Not even a hello?

"Hello?" America says, offended of the lack of proper greeting from her brother. "I'm home."

Peter covers the receiver, "Hey, Dad went to that Star Wars convention." 

She scoffs, "Like I didn't know, I wrote it on my calendar." She honestly did not know. "So..." Peter's gone back to talking on the phone. Impolite. Uncultured. EAT THE RUDE. 

Then America's hitting Peter with the box of cereal. 

"Ow! Ouch! What the-- What the hell?!" He shouts as he balled up in his seat. "Stop it!"

She dumps the cereal box on the table, when he made a move to take it, she gets it again and hits him. "I wasn't done talking to you! And you throw me away like I'm an expired bottle of water! Feel how it made me feel."

Peter takes the phone, "Let me call you later!" Then ends his call. He grabs the box of cereals. "Stop it, Americat!"

America pulls the box from Peter and hits his stomach, "I don't like cats!" Then places the box on the surface.

He huffs, "What the hell?! Why are you hitting me for?!"

America glares at him, "You're ignoring me! I gave your number to a total stranger and you treat me like nothing happened and like it was not my fault when it totes was!"

Peter looks at her in exasperation, "Dude, yes you gave my number to a total stranger, but that total stranger isn't as bad as you think."

She furrows her brow, "Pete, he was almost convicted with cyber-massacre! Like, what the hell is cyber-massacre?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Cyber-massacre is when you hack into many people's accounts and use their identity to, like, use for buying a Mustang, then erase their accounts. [OMG, I just made this up]." He smiles at her in a forgiving way, "But he wasn't that guy, right? So he's alright."

"Huh?" She breathes out, "But, I still gave your number to a stranger." She points out.

He nods, "Yeah, but that's normal, isn't it? What we do when we're out clubbing?"

America stares at him, dubious of his forgiveness, or lackof, something is up with him. She can't pinpont what. "What's his last name?"


"His favourite colour."


"Favourite word."

"Two: 'dead' and 'pool'."

"Favourite actor?"

"Ryan Reynolds."

America snorts. "You're both weirdoes."

Peter scoffs, "Fuck off."

America pushes Peter off his seat and runs out of the kitchen.