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***

JOEY LOOKED AROUND, DISORIENTED UPON WAKING UP.

Knock, knock-knock-knock.

She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Who is it?" She wondered.

"Meg."

Yawning, Joey picked up her phone. "Come in," she said, checking her notifications. Sure enough, she had a missed text from Meg.

Coming by your room in 20 mins. Mission details.

Meg took a seat at Joey's desk, and Joey scooted back on her bed, leaning against the wall.

"OK," Meg began, dropping her hands onto either of her knees after placing her laptop on the desk. "Before I go all Agent-Mode, I need you to promise you won't get upset— did you just wake up?"

Joey yawned again. "Yes. I was taking a nap—" Her brows pulled together. "Why would I be upset?"

"Just— please." There was a sense of urgency in Meg's voice, and yet, Joey still had a hard time believing it could be that serious.

"OK..." Joey said nervously. "I won't be upset." What did she have to worry about? What could Meg have possibly done?

"OK," Agent Carrelli repeated, turning around in her chair and retrieving her computer before facing Joey again and opening it up. "There's an auction tomorrow night in Manhattan. From an outsider's perspective, it seems like a normal dinner party, but we've been tipped off that the hosts of the event, whose aliases are Calvin Richmond and Sabrina Reynolds, are actually Gabriel Lieber and Nadia Regan— which we figured out through the S.H.I.E.L.D. face-matching tech. They're in our system because their families were... impacted by everything regarding the Loki situation in 2012, which we assume is what led them to participate in this organized extortion. That's what they're on our watchlist for."

"...Like the Mafia?"

"No, the Mafia's a whole other story," Carrelli dismissed, a slight grimace on her face. "Anyway, both of them have been pretty off-the-radar for a while, but the fact that they're using fake names and hosting a private bidding formal is sketchy. If it was harmless, why would they be working under aliases? They could be auctioning off... anything, really. We have no idea what. Your mission, when we send you to this party, is to get an idea of what they're selling. Get as much information as you can from Nadia and Gabriel and the rest of the partygoers."

Joey, who'd been nodding along the whole time, started to pull her eyebrows together again. Not in confusion of the mission at hand, but instead of the fact that, "You still haven't given me anything to be upset about."

Now, Meg's brow was the one furrowing. "I was getting to it." She took a breath to prepare herself for the hit, as if she was the one anticipating some kind of bad news. "Tomorrow night, you and your mission partner will be going undercover as a newly engaged couple..." She squinted at her screen, searching for the names. "Liliana Jordan and Jeremiah Baldwin. Prospective bidders of... well, whatever it is you find out they're selling."

"Who's my mission partner?" Joey asked, interest piqued.

Meg stayed quiet, eyes darting back to the screen, and Joey slowly began to piece together why Meg assumed Joey would be upset.

"Meg—!"

"It was Fury's idea!" She claimed. "I didn't say no, because he made the fair point that Pietro wouldn't talk to your dad, and the two of you would make a believable couple— don't give me that look! I know it's a sore topic, but you promised you wouldn't get mad, and—"

"Meg!"

"I just thought that since you said the two of you have been talking more that it might be OK!"

"I've been becoming friends with him, not pretending to be engaged to him! And friends is a very loose term. He still hasn't said a thing about, well, anything." Joey looked away from Meg, slightly distraught.

"I know, look. I'm sorry, OK? There isn't a whole lot I could've done to convince Fury otherwise, without spilling your entire life over to him. And even then, I doubt he would have cared. He doesn't typically make adjustments for things like that. But regardless, this is a good mission. A good first mission, at that. If it's done right, this will make you look really good on paper."

Joey stayed quiet, thinking. She knew Meg was right. She made a sound, something of a scoff and a sigh.

"You said it's in Manhattan. How are we getting there?"

Meg didn't hide her sigh of relief at Joey's compliance and, hopefully, forgiveness. She looked down at her laptop again.

"Good question. Tomorrow at 16:30— that's 4:30—"

"I can read military time, Meg."

Meg shot her a look. "— one of our drivers will take the two of you to Albany. There, you'll get out at the Amtrak station and get on a train scheduled to leave at 5:10. It'll be a long train ride, but it'll give you time to get ready for the party and figure out, with Pietro, Liliana and Jeremiah's backstories, and such, should anyone ask the two of you personal questions. You two should be making it off the train by 19:35, and your hotel is just nearby. The two of you can get into your disguises there—"

"Disguises?"

Meg gave her another look. "Formal attire. You're killing me, Stark. Anyway. After that, it's up to you guys to get to the location— Fury will have the details on that. The two of you will be expected to stay at the party until it ends, unless you find another reason to leave sooner. You'll stay the night, or whatever's left of it, at the hotel, and then there's another Amtrak for 5:55 the next morning that'll get you back to Albany, where the same cab that got you there is going to be waiting to get you here by 8:45. You'll be expected to provide a mission report upon arrival, as well as be physically examined by one of our medics."

Joey blinked a few times, taking in the information. She had no doubt in her mind that this was going to be reiterated tomorrow by Fury himself, but still, it was a lot.

"Any questions for now...?" Meg asked hesitantly, seeing Joey's obvious overwhelm.

Joey nodded but stayed quiet in thought for a moment more. "How are— how is black-tie clothing going to disguise us?"

"Well, no one knows you," Meg answered easily. "Pietro will have widow-tech on him, disguising his face to people who aren't on the program's white list. The only way people would figure the two of you out is if you find yourselves in a position where Pietro needs to use his powers."

"And if I use mine?"

"As I said. Your identity as Joey Stark isn't public. The only people who know about your powers are the people here— if you do use your powers, witnesses will know there's a new powered person out there, but if anyone here got wind of it... I mean, as far as they know, your powers don't go beyond basic telekinesis and force-field manipulation. If an anonymous Enhanced is reportedly teleporting and using energy blasts, it's highly unlikely that anyone here would try and trace it back to you."

Joey opened her mouth again, but Carrelli answered before she could even get the question out.

"Things like this typically don't have surveillance. Any reports on you would be witness hearsay. You think they want security footage on the auctioneering of what is probably some kind of illegal cartel?"

Joey took a breath, nodding. OK, she told herself. This was a lot, but she thought— no, she knew— she could do this, and she could do it well.

"How's that sound?" Carrelli asked, bringing Joey's attention back up.

"It sounds OK," Joey admitted. "As your trainee, I'm feeling lucky to have you as my mentor. As your friend, I'm feeling slightly bamboozled."

"And I am very sorry," Carrelli said, semi-sincerely as she closed her laptop. "As your mentor, I'm feeling very proud. As your friend, I'm feeling sort of bad about your partnership arrangement, but also, like I deserve credit if anything good happens between the two of you while you're gone."

"Yeah, right," Joey laughed. "One more thing. What happens if my dad, or someone, tries to come and find me any time after we leave?"

"We have our ways of keeping people off of each other's backs," Carrelli reassured. "You'd be surprised how quick missions seem when you aren't the one on them. Nat's been in and out of here three times since you got here, and I bet you didn't even notice."

"I did not." Joey was slightly surprised at this information, but it was definitely heartening to hear.

"Exactly." Meg smiled. "This is a lot to handle all at once," she told Joey, speaking from her own experiences just years before, "but if anyone's got this, it's you. You'll be issued a burner phone before you leave, with just mine and Fury's numbers programmed into it under some random aliases, so when it comes time to leave the hotel and head to the party, you'll still have a way to reach us that won't lead anyone straight to us, should you lose the phone for any reason. That's just part of more protocol that Fury will school you on tomorrow, though."

"Jeez," Joey sighed. "OK."

"OK?"

"Yes,' Joey laughed. "Thank you. For everything."

"Of course." Carrelli stood and headed for Joey's door, laptop tucked under her arm. "I will see you tomorrow then." She wore a grin on her face, then, before she left— one that was completely Meg Carrelli, not Agent.

***

"Joey M. Stark," Tony chirped upon his daughter's arrival in his lab.

"You forgot the 'A'," Joey reminded him, smiling. Her father sighed theatrically.

"I always do." He drummed the paper in front of him with the pen in his hand a few times. "What's up, kiddo?"

I'm going on a mission three hours away even though you forbade me from doing so, and I just wanted to say goodbye before I leave.

"Nothing." Joey shrugged, her smile fading ever so slightly. "Just felt like picking on ya."

"Lucky me," Tony replied unenthusiastically, though he pushed the yellow notepad in front of him away before spinning around to face Joey.

"Where are the Banners?" She wondered aloud, peeking around the lab for anything new. Her eye caught on what appeared to be a brand new DNA and RNA analyzer, but she tore her gaze away when she realized it was probably going to be put to use on Enhanced data collection which was far outside Joey's realm of knowledge. An A.S. in biology wasn't all that advanced in the great scheme of things Avengers.

"They just broke to eat. Pep and I are probably about to do the same. You hungry?"

"I just ate," Joey lied. "I think I'm gonna spend the night doing some housekeeping. Laundry, and things."

Tony made a face. "You have always been kind of weird about other people doing those things, huh?" Before Joey could show offense on her face, he shook his head and gestured with a hand. "Whatever. You can do your own laundry, I don't care."

The chime on his phone pulled his attention back to the counter, next to his notepad.

"There's Pep," he said, picking it up and reading the message. "Dinner awaits." He stood up, pushed in his stool, and headed for the door. When he reached it, he peeked back at his daughter with a funny look, while she stood there— like a duck, he thought. "You coming?" He laughed.

Getting the memo, Joey laughed, too, following him out and to the elevators. Inside, he punched in two numbers: four, for his dinner with Pepper, and five, so Joey could get back to her room. The door closed, a chime sounded, and they were going up. Joey looked over at her dad, and then away. He wore a half-expectant and half-humored look at the action when he slid his phone into his pocket.

"What's going on, J?" He wondered.

"Nothing!" Joey insisted. Tony waited, as if she was going to say more, and when she didn't, he scoffed and tousled his daughter's hair.

Joey groaned. "You're the worst," she told him.

"I know," he laughed, wrapping the arm he tousled her hair with around her shoulders. "I love you, duckling."

"Love you," she echoed.

The door chimed open, and Tony looked at his daughter fondly from the hallway once he left, and the doors closed again. She couldn't help but sigh in relief. Part of her hurt for lying to her dad, but another part of her was desperate to go on this mission and succeed.

The words I need to help Mom echoed in Joey's mind, but she blacked them out quickly— she couldn't help her mom. That was the whole reason she was here. One successful mission was one step closer to helping someone, and if that was as close as she could get to what she really wanted, she was OK with that.

She walked to her room, still trying to silently justify her actions. Technically, this could've been avoided, had Tony just agreed to let her help figure out things with Heidi. But as soon as she thought that, she felt bad all over again. He just wanted to keep her safe. The only person she could blame her choices on was herself. She knew that.

She couldn't decide what felt worse: the guilt over lying to her dad, or the guilt over not really feeling bad about it at all, at the same time.

Inside her room, she was greeted with a sprawled-out collection of makeup and a poorly yet functionally packed green duffel bag on her bed. She put away the things she decided against bringing on the train, and she imagined all of the possible outcomes that tonight could bring— but she gave up after just a few moments. The truth was, she had no idea what was in store. She had been to banquets and balls in her life, of course, being her father's daughter, but this was different. She was going to be undercover, and working among a Mafia-level threat. She had never been to an event where she had to hope that everything went smoothly, to plan, and that her family didn't catch her.

*

The first time Joey and Pietro spoke to each other today, they had been sitting next to each other in the back seat of the car for eleven minutes already.

Pietro cleared his throat. Joey looked at him sideways, but she didn't turn her head.

"Yes?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the tinted glass in front of her, separating the two of them from the driver in the front.

"Hm?" Pietro feigned. "Oh, nothing. Just an itch in my throat."

Joey turned to him now, her expression blank, before turning forward again and leaning her head onto the black leather headrest behind her.

She took a deep breath, and she lifted the navy blue garment sleeve off of the window to her right so she could look out at the land, which slowly became more and more built on the further downstate they got. To her left, Pietro was looking forward, drumming mindlessly with his right knuckles on Joey's green duffel, which was the only thing sitting between the two of them in the back seat. To his left, a blue garment bag identical to Joey's was hanging next to his window.

In her lap, Joey flipped her two phones around in her hands; one that was hers, and the other that she was given ten minutes earlier by Director Fury. One with half her life on it, and the other with just two fake names in it.

Meg was right— Fury relayed everything she had already been told yesterday, as well as issuing her and Pietro their burner phones and 'disguises', and making it clear that they knew as much about the mission as he did... which wasn't much at all.

Pietro said something, but Joey was still entranced in her own thoughts. "What?" She asked.

She looked at him, but he avoided her eyes. Instead, he shook his head slightly. "How the hell did we end up mission partners?"

Although she was extremely inclined to take offense to this question, she simply turned her head back to the front, took a breath, and replied with grace. "We're the same age. We're good fighters." She couldn't help but glance at him when she added, slightly uncertain, "Carrelli says you won't tell my dad."

"We are not the same age," Pietro said, almost dismissively.

"That's what you took from that?" Joey scoffed, giving up any hope for a peaceful mission. Thanks a lot, Meg, she thought. So much for any progress made with Pietro in the last two weeks. She thought of replying with some snarky comment about how they looked the same age, but she decided against giving him the satisfaction of being right: they were two years apart.

Silence filled the car again, but it didn't last as long as Joey expected.

"Your dad does not know about this?"

Joey looked at him, and he was looking back, expectantly.

"No." She shook her head, looking away again. Why can't she just look at him? "He'd probably have a heart attack if he knew what I was doing right now," she went on. "But, you know. Like Nat says. He's survived worse."

A surprised laugh choked its way out of Pietro, and Joey's lips involuntarily turned upward. "That is a little morbid," he told her.

Joey was laughing a little now too, but she didn't know what to say, so she didn't reply. She met his eye again, and this time, with smiles on their faces, they didn't both avert their gazes. When their laughter faded and they did look away, it wasn't forced like it felt like it always was with them. Maybe I spoke too soon, Joey thought.

The rest of the car ride went by in silence again, but it wasn't tense like it was in the beginning. It was comfortable— slightly impatient, if anything. Because even now, Joey was dying to get on that train.

*

"Her middle name is not Figueroa. That's a last name, and it means fig tree. Liliana Fig Tree Jordan? What is wrong with you?"

Joey smudged a patchy spot of eye shadow on her eyelid with the pad of her finger before going at it with a brush again.

They were well into their train ride now, and the accommodation was much nicer than any Amtrak ride Joey had ever been on— a small room with a private bathroom, a large window, and just beneath that, a table with large blue seats on either side.

"Nothing is wrong with me," Pietro defended, sitting back down across from Joey after pacing around their cabin.

Joey pulled the cap off her eyeliner, and she leaned close to her compact mirror to start applying it.

"So we met—"

"Shh!" Joey cut off. Her eyes didn't leave her reflection, so she didn't see Pietro's eyes widen with an expression of confusion and annoyance. After she glided a wing onto the corner of each eye, she closed the liner and looked at him. "You were saying?"

"I was just remembering what we already decided. We met through your father, because I worked for him in the business. It was practically love at first sight," he recited.

"Right. And if anyone asks who my dad is, I can just say 'Michael' or something basic like that. There's always a Michael." Joey blew on her fake eyelash before sticking it to her eye.

"Michael Jordan," Pietro confirmed, nodding. Joey winced.

"Hello! That's a real person. Jesus." If it weren't for the foundation on her skin, she would've facepalmed. "Um, OK. My dad's name can be William. Will Jordan."

"I do not think it matters that much," Pietro pointed out.

"We can know my middle name is Figueroa, but we can't know my dad's name?" Joey rolled her eyes, but her tone wasn't serious. "Michael Jordan is one of the most famous athletes and businessmen ever. It matters." She sank back in her seat, having applied all of her makeup except for lipstick, and she looked out the window before turning back to the front, to find Pietro looking at her. When their eyes met, his gaze darted to the window, and then back to her as he readjusted in his seat.

"So, do you have a plan?" He wondered, stretching his arms behind his head. Joey took a breath, picked up her lipstick, and leaned toward her mirror to swipe some onto her lips. She shrugged.

"Don't get caught."

A beat of silence passed while she touched up her makeup.

"Clearly you have never been on a mission before."

Joey made a sound of exasperation. "Yeah, no shit!" Upon her slight outburst, a voice over the PA announced that their stop was approaching. With that, she started throwing her makeup back into its bag. "Aren't we supposed to come up with a plan together? This is a team effort, isn't it? We're mission partners."

Pietro hid his eye roll by standing and turning away so he could take their garment bags off the hook they were on. "I am simply asking if you have any ideas. If you don't, I am concerned that they cleared you for a mission."

He turned back around, holding Joey's garment sleeve out for her to grab, and she glared when she took it from him. "Of course I have ideas. I just don't have a plan. We can make one on the walk to the hotel, or something."

Pietro muttered something Joey couldn't understand under his breath, but as the train came to a stop, he held out a hand for her to grab and stand up. She didn't mean to slightly hesitate before taking it, but she did.

She slipped her green bag over her shoulder and draped her dress bag over her arm as she followed Pietro out of the room, out of the car, and into the Pennsylvania station.

Just like their way in, it didn't take long to make it out onto the sidewalk— Pietro clearly knew his way around this station pretty well. It didn't shock Joey; he'd been an Avenger for two years. It just peeved her, a little bit.

"What is the hotel called?" Pietro wondered, pulling out one of his phones.

"The Moxy," Joey told him.

"The... Moxy..." Pietro repeated, punching the name into his GPS app with one hand. "OK, follow me. And start telling me your plan."

"Our plan!" Joey scoffed irritatedly, following him down the street. "It's—" she checked the time on one of her phones— "7:41. That basically gives us enough time to get checked into the hotel, changed into our clothes, and then right back out the door. Carrelli said that we just need to see what they're selling, and try to get some information out of Calvin and Sabrina— or Gabriel and Nadia, or whatever. So... we can just go in and act naturally until an opportunity to browse the auction presents itself."

Pietro made a sound of disapproval.

"You sure do mumble a lot for someone who has not suggested a better idea."

He cut a glance back at her— a glare— before abruptly turning right. Joey quickly caught up with him around the corner, and a tall, black building was glowing slightly with a pink light. "Here we are," he said, clearly resigned to the fact that he had no better ideas than Joey.

They stepped inside, and Joey, welcomed by her smile, approached the woman at the podium, Pietro trailing behind her.

"Hi," Joey said. "We're here to check in. It should be one room under Baldwin."

"OK..." The woman typed a few things through her computer, before turning and smiling again. "Jeremiah?"

"Yes," Pietro and Joey chorused. She looked over at him, but he kept his eye on the receptionist. "That will be me."

"Perfect. Your room is paid for already, and I have you guys checking out tomorrow morning?"

"Yep," Joey told her.

"Alright, perfect. Here are your key cards," the receptionist said, sliding over a small envelope. "You'll be in room 1704. Check out is any time before 11 AM tomorrow. Enjoy your stay!"

Pietro and Joey each thanked the receptionist before making their way into the elevator, to the 17th floor.

"So we get there, and we act naturally." Pietro broke the silence, a begrudging emphasis on the plan. "What then?"

"I don't know what then. That's the whole acting naturally part," Joey said, mimicking his tone. "Whenever it's natural for us to do some snooping, we'll do it. We just have to act like normal people. Or people who would be going to a sketchy mafia benefit."

"It is not the mafia," Pietro reminded her, rolling his eyes.

"Just cracking a joke," Joey reminded him, a single dry laugh escaping her chest as she stepped out of the elevator before him.

Upon reaching the door of 1704 before him, Joey held her hand out to Pietro, who had taken the room keys at check-in. Instead of handing them to her, he slipped one out of its sleeve and tapped it against the sensor on their door. Joey's nostrils flared with irritation.

Inside, the room was lit up golden from the setting sun coming through the large window on the left. The two of them were greeted by a short hall-like entryway, but they didn't linger to hang their things or take in the art on the walls. Instead, they walked right past the tray of wine and glasses, and into the heart of the room: a small table for two, an L-shaped sofa, and a king-sized bed with extra storage underneath.

Joey set her green duffel bag onto the couch, and she braced herself as she passed the bed and rounded the corner, silently knowing that of course, Meg booked a room with one bed.

"Bathroom's here," Joey announced when she was greeted by a shower rather than another bed. She leaned over so her head was visible from Pietro's view, where he was standing by the window. "I'm gonna change."

Inside the bathroom, Joey hung the garment bag on the shower rod, and she pulled out the phone in her pocket— her real phone.

What the hell is wrong with you?!

She sent the text to Meg and set her phone on the rim of the sink, before unzipping the garment sleeve and nearly gasping at the dress before her.

The bodice was sleeveless— black mesh, held together by thin, solid black strips of fabric that connected to the solid black cups. The skirt is what caught her eye, though. A black slip, with a black mesh layer above it, similar to that of the bodice, only it was covered in golden stones.

It was absolutely beautiful.

As Joey changed into the dress, she silently thanked whatever force of nature convinced her to curl her hair on the train, and to bring a pair of black heels as well as nude ones; nude shoes and straightened hair would not have cut it.

She pulled on the gown the rest of the way, and as she went to zip it from the bottom of her back, she couldn't make it up all the way.

Dammit.

She felt the garment bag for whatever else was left inside: a packet of silica gel, a tag, and a matching set of jewelry: a simple golden necklace, golden earrings with a white jewel in the middle, and a golden bracelet.

Her phone buzzed as she clipped the back of her final earring into place, and she hoisted her dress up before grabbing the phone off the edge of the sink.

They didn't have two-bed suites.

Joey rolled her eyes. They didn't need a suite, they were only going to be here for eight more hours! She didn't bother responding.

She tried one more time at zipping up her dress, but to no avail. With a huff, a hoist, and a sweeping of the hair over her shoulder, Joey pulled open the bathroom door with her phone in one hand while the other kept her dress in place.

"Hey, can you—"

Joey looked up from her dress, and over at Pietro, who was now wearing a classic black suit with gold embroidery along the flap of each pocket. His eyes and hands were trained on the black tie around his neck in an attempt to tie it.

He finally turned his head at her sudden silence, but when his eyes met hers, Joey blushed and looked away. Pietro didn't, though.

"Can I...?" He finally asked, clearing his throat and looking at her expectantly. Joey looked at him again, and she set her phone on the bed so she could readjust her dress one more time. She swallowed, walking closer to him, before turning slightly and gesturing with her hand.

"I can't reach it," she told him. "The zipper."

"Oh," he said softly. "Yes."

She turned around, and hesitantly, Pietro swept Joey's hair over her shoulder before zipping the back of her dress. She met his eyes for a moment when she turned back around, but her gaze moved elsewhere almost immediately.

"Here," she said, her voice low. She wordlessly tied his tie in a classic Windsor knot and adjusted his collar slightly. She dared to meet his eye again after that, but she didn't dare to smile.

Instead, she turned away, heading for the burner phone in her duffel bag. Out of curiosity, and desperation to have something to look at other than Pietro adjusting his sleeves, Joey unlocked it and headed for the contacts: Breezy Alistair and Melanie Smith. Joey rolled her eyes lightheartedly. What awful aliases.

"We should go," Pietro said, pulling Joey's attention away from her phone. She felt around her skirt for a pocket, or somewhere to tuck her burner phone, but she had no luck.

"Here," he offered, walking past her with his hand out. He took the phone and slipped it into his left jacket pocket. Without another word, the two of them left the hotel room.

***

don't forget to comment, react, and vote! thank you for reading!

***