On hindsight, it's obvious. From the moment the information has reached Selina's ears, she should have suspected. As soon as she got the confirmation, she should have known. A top-secret facility, a group of - of - of superheroes, the government's most important act? She's good, she knows it, she never wastes her time on false modesty, but even she isn't that good. They didn't try to keep her out. They wanted to lure her in.
Still, it stings a little seeing as she comes there to seek vengeance and gets cheered in response. Needless to say, Selina Kyle's first meeting with the group fashioning themselves as the Avengers doesn't exactly go according to plan, and it's the fault of each and every one of them in return.
Tony.
He's a billionaire, and Selina hates him for it at first, and begrudges him for it later. He's the kind of billionaire she's always despised - he has made his money from weapons and he throws charity events and he has a huge tower with his name slapped on it for everyone to see. He's arrogant and smug and suave and charming and a know-it-all and he has no problem parading it. That's what gets her about him, really, the way he parades it. She knows that somewhere, deep inside, there must be a few regrets but she isn't going to waste her time even scratching the surface with him.
She's a toy to him, and he makes no attempt to hide it. Selina is something new and exciting and she amuses him. He wants to impress her so she never gives him the chance to succeed, only the smile she saves for fools and marks. In the end, he learns to grudgingly respect her, after she's the one to save the Earth from the Skrulls. Okay, he had to show up in the last minute and get her out of a tight spot, because she'd been fighting criminals and pimps all her life, not aliens! But she still did most of the work and he knows it, she and not him in his fancy suit. She hates that suit more than anything else she hates about it.
What kills her the most is that if she ever made a checklist, it would be pretty identical. Filthy rich, genius, action man, alter ego, suit. But Tony Stark sees so big that he can't focus on the little things anymore. He cares about the environment and war and aliens who are hellbent on dominating the world and he doesn't see the things that occupy the minds of real people. He wants to vanquish poverty as a concept; he doesn't know what it's like being poor. The more Selina grows to like him, the more she has the urge to add a little item to her checklist, just to spite him. Gets it. Only one of them has that box ticked, and it isn't Tony Stark.
When Selina thinks of that box, she thinks of that first night, when she shouted at him, Where were you those five months of hell? All he had to say then was that there were more important things at stake than a city of twelve million people.
Steve.
He's the perfect gentleman. And he sympathises. After all, he's a war hero, isn't he? He knows what horror a dirty war can be, so he sympathises. He's so... nice. It makes her want to scream. Selina stopped looking for gentlemen a long time ago, she knows everyone really only fends in for themselves, and this kid who was born the same year as her grandfather expects her to have trust.
But most of all she hates him because of the clothes he wears. It's stupid; he doesn't even wear them all the time. Only when they're away. Only when they save the world from another invasion, or from the likes of HYDRA. The star-spangled banner indeed; blue and red and stars and stripes. He doesn't understand her disdain of his uniform, doesn't understand her hatred of his suit. "But this is what I fight for," he says, confused. Freedom. The American way. He looks so nice when he says it that she actually screams.
Later, of course, he's covered with blood like the rest of them, but for some reason, on him it doesn't stick. She's filthy and smelly and her clothes are all ripped to shreds and her hair smells like ashes but he's all shiny and new like he was when they set out. She's tired and cranky and very very afraid now she knows what things look like on a global scale and not in just one city, but he stays calm.
"I have something to fight for," he says, and she hates him just a little bit more. She can't believe he still thinks this flag would protect him, not after it failed to protect her, not after it allowed five months of hell. In her mind, her protection comes from within her, and on the rare occasions it does not, then it comes in the shape of an animal. She concedes later that she doesn't hate him, just his ideals. Like that first night, when she shouted at him, Where were you those five months of hell? And all he had to say was that they did not receive orders to save a city of twelve million people held to ransom. But she isn't angry anymore. That's him, and this is her. You can't teach an old cat new tricks, and Selina's already used to putting her trust in people who have given up on those ideals.
Thor.
Selina never quite managed to develop a grudge against him. For the first couple of months, her mind simply slid past him, bypassing him completely. He's a god - okay, a sort-of-god, but in her world that still sounds too much like 'god' and she simply doesn't have the time for such nonsense. Her world is occupied with criminals and mobsters and gangs and dirty cops and monsters who want to see her world burn, she doesn't have room for any sort of deities in it.
She never got round to shouting at him. She never asked him her question. He still seems to feel the need to answer. One day he sits next to her, the day after they return from Asgard, after she had seen where the gods live, and stole a small golden goblet, just to prove to herself she still had it in her. On the news they say that while they were gone, Crane almost burned half of Gotham down. Looking at the news makes Selina feel guilty, so she looks at him instead. He's big, he's tall, he's quiet, and he's mostly awkward, at least with her. He smiles when he sees the goblet, but when he speaks, he says something else entirely.
"That's where I was," he tells her then. "In Asgard. Bringing Loki to justice."
It's not your world, Selina tries to dismiss this. The anger of that first night has long since dissipated. She doesn't want to shout at him anymore and doesn't expect his apology. Still he offers it. Of course he does. It's an odd kind of comfort, completely useless and still manages to make her feel just a little bit better. She wonders if that's what faith feels like.
Clint.
He's supposed to be her ally. That's what she thinks when she meets him that first time. Orphan. Criminal. Thief. But they have nothing in common. He's here because of love, not because of need.
She's never going to stay because of love. She's never going to do anything because of love. She can't believe he still conducts himself like that. Between Clint and Steve, she starts wondering about this superhero gig. Maybe they really are that clueless. Maybe superheroes live in fairytales, unlike the rest of them, regular people.
"But you're not a regular person," Clint says when she says something like that (less blunt; more sarcastic). He then starts telling her how impossible what she had done is - not just how she had trained herself all alone, not just her career as a burglar and a high class thief, but those five months too. She has the impression he wanted to say this ever since that first night, ever since she shouted at them. Unless she is very much mistaken, he actually admires her a little bit. She isn't sure how to react to that. Usually that's her cue for a mark, but he's an ally, and she's learned the hard way not to mix these two. So all she does is roll her eyes and tell him not to admire her. Later, she thinks that maybe this is a hint: she doesn't understand these superhero types after all, any more than they understand her.
Sometimes she thinks maybe she's a little bit jealous of him. Maybe if she ever allowed herself to do things out of feeling, not need, those five months of hell would have looked different.
Banner.
Selina can never bring herself to use his first name. No matter how many times she's tried, no matter how many times he's asked her to. It's not just his name; he reminds her of someone else too much. She thinks it's the anger in him. He looks so calm to the others, and she has already heard their tales of how they were all worried of angering him when they met him for the first time.
She doesn't need to tiptoe. She doesn't need to be afraid. She can see it. She wonders how anyone could ever have missed it, but then, they don't know that anger can be twisted and manipulated and used. They don't know that anger is a weapon. They don't know that sometimes, darkness is a good thing.
He's also kind; he's got that quiet kindness about him, the kind she's instinctively drawn to, at the same time as she automatically backs away. That, too, feels familiar, just like his name and his anger. She doesn't want his kindness; she'd much rather use his anger; and she's never going to use his name.
When Selina gets some time off, she takes it with him, she's not sure why. He's going to finish his vaccination project in India - he never meant to leave it for this long, he says apologetically, as if it's her he owes an apology to. She doesn't bother correcting him. Banner says he likes saving the world that way, too, and she doesn't bother correcting him about that, either. India is colourful and it's noisy and the smell is all different too and it's full with people, full to explosion, and all of a sudden she doesn't want to be there anymore. All those people, all they do is remind her how her mind's been filled lately with aliens and war and the environment and all those big projects, how long it has been since she was like them. She can't stand it. She can't look at them.
She looks at Banner instead. She can't help but be reminded of that first night, when she shouted at him, Where were you those five months of hell? He didn't try to make excuses, not like the others. He was silent for the longest of times, and then, when the room was quiet from her shouts he said calmly, measuredly, You're right. We messed up. I'm sorry.
Natasha.
Natasha doesn't say anything at all. It's only one of the things Selina likes about her. It's not that Natasha doesn't talk - she talks, she tells jokes, she reacts to Tony's sarcasm and she reacts to Banner's misgivings and generally, she reacts to Clint. But she isn't afraid of silence, even when that silence is heavy and overbearing, like that first night after Selina shouted at them all. She didn't give an excuse then, or said she was sorry. She was just silent then, and since then, sometimes she's silent. And that's what Selina likes.
She also likes that Natasha understands. They know everything about her - they make sure she knows it - and Natasha doesn't judge and doesn't sympathise and doesn't feel awkward. They're not the same, but they have so much in common - Natasha knows it for sure and Selina got enough hints from her to draw the picture. They have less in common than she thought, Selina learns later - but in the end, is a spy that different from a thief? Natasha rolls her eyes and says Yes, emphatically, but when Selina listens to her stories (and boasts some of her own in return), she thinks Natasha understands and that's why she's so stubborn pretending she doesn't.
But after all, Selina likes Natasha most when she flirts. What can she do? She likes flirting, and Natasha seems to like it just as much. It starts with eye contact every once in a while, then a joke that only the two of them find funny (and boy, does that get on Tony's nerves), and then the suggestions and innuendo start until Banner snaps that maybe they should just get a room, so they do.
Natasha is a superhero; she has the body of a superhero, as Selina learns, and she didn't spend five months in hell. Exploring Natasha's body is a lot more fun and a lot less awkward than the other way round. Natasha stays silent, though, in those moments, and Selina is grateful and goes back to joking about Natasha's old scars. She checks before she opens her mouth, though, just to make sure all the wounds she's joking about have indeed closed already.
Selina waits until Natasha is half asleep before she speaks what's really on her mind, that those five months of hell changed her, and not for the better.
"Sometimes, here, I feel like I'm betraying him."
Natasha is immediately awake. "Why?" she asks. "Because of me?"
"What? No!" Selina can't help but laugh. "God, no, are you serious?"
She likes the way Natasha furrows her brow in confusion. "What, then?"
"This. Aliens. Government conspiracies. Fascist undergrounds. Saving the world."
"Isn't that what he did? Save the world?"
She shakes her head, slightly sad. "No. He only cared about saving people."
After Natasha falls asleep, Selina reflects that maybe those five months of hell changed her in a positive way too. She has a clean slate now, she doesn't need to stay. But when she passes her hand through Natasha's red hair fondly, she realises she's staying simply because she feels like staying.