Southern Drawls and New York Fist Fights

Red-Eye Flights

"There's my favourite white boy!"
"Peter's your favourite white boy."

-Harley-

It wasn't my best idea.

Yeah, yeah, I realize that now. But to be fair, it had been entirely impulsive. I just needed a way out. So now I was stuck on a fucking plane to fucking New York and had no idea what to do when I got there.

I clenched my fist harder than I figured possible for me, and as a sharp pain split through my palm I released it with a quiet hiss. I glanced down at my hand, which now had lightly bleeding crescent moons in the flesh of my palm. I sighed deeply through my nose and really, really, contemplated if I could pitch myself off this plane somehow.

I landed on the considerably smart conclusion that I could not, in fact, do that.

Instead I pulled out my phone and clicked onto Shuri's contact, selecting eight ball pool from the options on game pigeon and only hesitating slightly before sending it. I had met Peter almost two years ago when Tony flew me down to visit for two weeks of Winter Break, and ended up meeting Shuri at the same time, along with the others in what Tony affectionately called our, 'murder squad'.

I didn't know where the name came from, nor did I particularly care. Maybe it was from when we switched Tony's coffee with herbal tea for almost a month before he noticed. Our 'murder squad' was made up of Peter, Shuri, Loki, Ned, MJ and I. It was of great commitment (and need to cause chaos at every and any given moment) that we dedicated ourselves to pranking the tower and it's occupants - even the workers and interns didn't get a pass from it.

Shuri sent the eight ball back. I clicked it open and huffed in annoyance at the fact that she had gotten three balls in already. I compensated by getting four of my own before missing my shot. I was greeted by a message when I exited to wait for Shuri to end her turn.

princess of BULLSHIT: why are you up at 3 in the morning Keener?
cow-boy yeehaw: late night flight

I attempted to stretch my legs and frowned when I couldn't. Great. Cramps later.

princess of BULLSHIT: where are you going at 3 am? Europe?
cow-boy yeehaw: New York
cow-boy yeehaw: Gonna send the game back?
princess of BULLSHIT: after you tell me why you're on a red-eye flight unsupervised

I rolled my eyes, I could practically hear Shuri's playful tone seeping from that message. However, I was not about to tell her that I had left home suddenly and without my parents knowledge (not that they would care, they didn't when I finally got Abbie to go live with her friend who's parents had been offering for months) or that I had no where to go when I did arrive in New York.

cow-boy yeehaw: unexpected circumstances

Great job Harley, cause that was not suspicious at all. I huffed to myself in annoyance, and discarded my phone in my lap. I leaned my head back against the uncomfortable airplane seat headrest and closed my eyes, ignoring my phone buzzing.

If not for the sudden alert that we were landing I would have drifted off. Instead I blinked groggily and put my phone in my pocket as I prepared for the less than graceful landing.

I was not disappointed in the airplanes skills of making my sleep deprived, pounding head throb with every slowly descended mile.

I clamoured off the airplane with my backpack on my shoulder, and blinked away tiredness as the airports fluorescent lights blinded me. My phone buzzed again but I ignored it so I could go get my (small) suitcase from baggage claim.

I pulled it over to some benches and collapsed onto them, feeling completely helpless. I was seventeen in a fucking New York airport with no idea where to go, what to do, and maybe a hundred and fifty bucks to my name. You had to be eighteen to get a hotel room, along with a car meaning I had no transport unless I could figure out New York public transit, not that I had anywhere to go either way.

My phone buzzed, this time with the consistency that meant a phone call. I pulled it out and saw Shuri's name plastered across the cracked screen, her contact picture (her looking to be in extreme concentration of getting whip cream off her nose with her tongue) taking up the background. I pressed answer and put the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I said tiredly.

"There's my favourite white boy!" She exclaimed, all too energetic. Which made sense since it was probably mid-day in Wakanda.

"Peter's your favourite white boy." I shot back before clearing my throat.

I pretended that the way I was sitting on the bench wasn't pressing into bruises on my back uncomfortably and instead focused on Shuri's voice.

"Whoever told you that is a liar."

"You told me that."

"Well then... past me is a liar." I snorted, shaking my head. "Anyways! I assume your with Stark?" The silence was heavy for a moment and then Shuri sighed. "Harley are you at the airport alone?"

"Yes." I said dejectedly. It's not like I had anything to do and it was almost four in the morning so even if I did message Tony or Peter they wouldn't see it til way later.

"Harley Keener! Did Stark or, well, anyone know you were coming?" Shuri sounded like Pepper when she was exasperated by Peter or Tony. I hummed, as if thinking about it.

"Well, it was kind of a split second decision." I told the princess.

"You are so lucky I am in New York, Keener." I blinked, the words not registering in my brain.

"What?"

"I'm coming to the airport, meet me outside the west entrance." And she hung up before I could ask her any questions.

I checked the messages she had spammed me with while I gained the energy to make myself move again.

princess of BULLSHIT: like?????
princess of BULLSHIT: white boy
princess of BULLSHIT: Keener
princess of BULLSHIT: don't ignore meeee
princess of BULLSHIT: hold up no one mentioned you were coming, was this some sort of surprise you ruined?
princess of BULLSHIT: Harley you better answer me
princess of BULLSHIT: I am going to shoot the plane you are on out of the sky if you don't
princess of BULLSHIT: see now this is just mean, not answering your friend who is a princess! The audacity
princess of BULLSHIT: well since you won't answer I'll just call you
princess of BULLSHIT: I'll give you three minutes

I rolled my eyes at her dramatics, even if it was in good fun and was to hide the worry I know was there. I put my phone away and forced myself to get up, grabbing my bags and heading for a map to locate the west entrance.