A/N: It's time for "Marvelous" part 3! (Queue confetti).
Ahem.
This chapter is once again from Carol's perspective, and I must say it's not my best. I'm sorry for any absurd attempts at humor, but my beta has been out of town and has had no access to a computer for the past few days.
Remember, reviews are the greatest gift a writer can give another writer. Please review, and I'll try to get back to you as quickly as I can.
A special shoutout to Proponent of Evo, Knead Me, and I am Mayhem for reviewing every chapter and just being amazing.
And Knead Me: Steve will be playing a much bigger role in the next chapter, so yeah.
In this chapter, you will find: a rather cumbersome box, a very small personal hell, a coquettish ex-CEO, and the panties of the world's strictest nun hitting the ground with rather destructive force.
Also, I have a new poll related to "Marvelous" and further Marvel Comicverse-to-Movieverse adaptations, so please check it out!
Have fun reading!
Disclaimer: I own no characters in this story, just the adaptation of Carol.
"So, do you have any questions before we begin?"
Carol blinked a few times at the phrase before realizing that she had gone completely blank during Ms. Potts's little presentation. She remembered only the suited woman before her smiling and her lips moving, but Carol had slipped into a trance-like state without even realizing it. Her mind had been light-years away, pondering each of the various items that were going to affect her day in some way.
Her boss: I wonder if Mr. Stark is going to hit on me. Ew.
Ms. Potts: Who exactly is this woman I'm talking to? His secretary, maybe?
Her morning: Did I lock my front door this morning?
Yes.
Her 5 senses: Wait what-what is that smell?
Oh yeah, Steve Rogers is still here.
Why is he still here?
I shouldn't have worn this pair of underwear today. It's really giving me a wedg-
"Ah…Carol?"
Carol blinked once again before realizing that this was indeed reality she was experiencing. The memories of the still-in-progress morning then flooded back to her, minus anything her apparent co-worker had just said. Her next single-word sentence lurched out of her as she finally got a grip.
"No."
Ms. Potts's amiable grin faltered slightly at Carol's obviously flustered state, but only for a moment. The red-head then nodded, satisfied, turned her shoulders around, and beckoned with a finger.
"Well, if you've heard everything you need, please follow me. I'll give you a little tour."
But Carol remained stock-still, a smile plastered on her face and her box frozen in her aching arms, further confusing her companion. For some reason, Carol found she could not move, regardless of her attempts to. She seemed rooted to the floor for a few moments until she was granted control of her frozen limbs by the distraction of the smell emanating from behind her, and its still-here host, moving. Carol's head unwittingly swiveled towards the smell and instantly regretted it. She had never beheld such a tragic facial expression before now. Steve Rogers's damnably expressive face displayed a look that combined crestfallenness, embarrassment, and forced cheerfulness. His brow was bent, his eyes her partially downcast, and his lips her pulled up slightly into a pitiful attempt at a soggy smile. Basically, the look was one that could melt a heart of stone and drop the panties of the strictest nun so hard and so fast that there would be a small crater in the floor. Recognizing the need for swift escape before she did or said anything stupid, Carol's strides were long and frequent as she hustled after her tour guide, the contents of her box jangling as she moved. She sighed, thankful that Steve Rogers had gone another direction, taking his utter gorgeousness with him.
When she finally caught up with the surprisingly speedy Ms. Potts, Carol allowed her eyes to absorb the visual of the interior of the upper floors of Stark Tower from behind her box. This portion of the building was reserved for the living quarters of Anthony Stark himself, and as a reflection of the eccentric yet brilliant and modern-minded man, the rooms and corridors were constructed with not only elegance, but also functionality in mind. The black, red, and chrome décor was quite oxymoronically subtle yet ostentatious, drawing all attention to the odd architecture of the walls, floors, and even the ceiling. The sleek black marble floors sloped fluidly with the changing furnishings and sizes of rooms, dipping in the larger ones and rising in the smaller ones. Carol was forced to take care not to trip. Even though the clacking of two pairs of shoes, the soft jingling of office equipment scraping across metal and cardboard, and the cheerful voice of Ms. Potts echoed slightly off of the walls, Carol could hear none of them, as her mind was too focused on staying upright and seeing as much as she could.
As the two entered a larger vast room, Carol's breath caught for a moment as she viewed the rather grand space. It appeared to be a kind of living room, with an enormous flat-screen TV (the largest Carol had seen outside of a sports arena), several sleek yet posh white-and-black couches, two beautifully crafted glass staircases leading up and down, and ,rather oddly, a fully-stocked bar along the back wall that Carol would need to fully "investigate" later on. But what really made Carol gasp was the window that made up the entire eastern wall. The view was fantastic. A viewer could see almost the entire city, including Wall Street, Central Park, and even the East River. Buildings stood proudly and competitively side-by-side, glinting in the morning's soft orange light. THIS was the view Carol wanted from her desk.
Unfortunately, this will most definitely not be the case, but Carol will learn that later on.
For the first time that day, Ms. Potts had Carol's full attention as she spoke.
"This is where most of Mr. Stark's and my day happens. Especially Mr. Stark."
Carol couldn't quite understand why Ms. Potts had a tone of playful exasperation, especially towards her boss, but further investigation would have to wait until later. Ms. Potts continued.
"It's where you'll more than likely find either of us at any given point of the day, provided we're even in the building."
Carol began to speak for the first time in quite a while a slight strain in her voice from the box weighing down on her..
"Pardon my asking, Ms. Potts, but why do you keep referring to yourself and," she swallowed slightly, "Mr. Stark as a collective group? I mean, are you together often enough for that to be appropriate?" Carol bit her tongue at the utterly disrespectful tone she had unwittingly adopted towards this woman. However, Ms. Potts smiled slightly as she answered in a light-hearted tone.
"Well, Mr. Stark and I do spend quite a bit of time together, given that we're engaged to be married." Ms. Potts smiled bemusedly at the embarrassed and slightly-shocked look on her junior's face. "And please, I'd prefer it if you called me Pepper, since we'll be working pretty closely. I wouldn't want there to be any unnecessary distance between us."
Although mildly embarrassed by her lack of knowledge on the world of Anthony Stark and slightly caught off guard by her co-worker's sudden burst of informality, Carol nodded her assent as they walked on. In an attempt to shake off the obvious facial contortion she possessed, Carol allowed her mind to wander towards her future employer. Obviously, she had not done her research on the subject adequately enough. She was only vaguely aware of his appearance, possessed only minimal knowledge on what this company even did after the arc-reactor fiasco she read about a few years ago, and was hazily aware of Mr. Stark's uncanny drinking and bedding abilities. The unknown had always scared Carol. She had constantly made it a point in the past to fully understand any situation she was going to be placed in before hand, so she would spend weeks or even months investigating. Unfortunately, Carol's life had been busy: graduation, retirement from the Air Force, dealing with her father AGAIN, and her brother's deployment to Syria had taken up the majority of the 8 months since she had first heard of the job and did not give her the adequate time or cranial storage capacity for pre-emptive research.
Now, she realized her sad mistake.
Covered in a new layer of rapidly-cooling sweat, Carol followed her guide down a new corridor. This hallway seemed curiously darker than the previous few the pair had been through previously. Carol's nervousness steadily increased as she ventured further into the dark hallway. At the end of the rather long hallway, Carol noticed a small wooden door. The door itself seemed to radiate the soft orange light coming from a small plug-in light source near it, giving the small area before the door a feeling of warmth.
Why is she trying to show me the janitor's closet? Carl pondered as the door grew nearer. Pepper chuckled slightly.
"Ah, memories. I remember coming here on my first day on the job SO many years ago. I thought it was the janitor's closet."
Wait. If it's not the janitor's closet, then what is-.
No.
The door grew closer.
Please. No.
Closer.
Please God, NO.
Pepper's hand enveloped the small gold-imitation doorknob. Her portal to hell.
NO!
The door squeaked gently with age as it opened, displaying the quaint little room of torture and eternal damnation (for Carol at least). There was a small room, approximately 100 feet in total area. A gust of warm air blew out to meet the pair, gently brushing her face with its scratchy and heated touch. The floor was covered in a coffee brown shag carpet that tickled the exposed areas of Carol's feet. The aging walls were adorned with a burgundy paint, adding to the warm aesthetic of the room. A single light fixture roosted proudly on the ceiling as it melted its orange light upon the area. The room could be described simply as "quaint".
It sucked. It sucked royal ass.
But the worst part by far would have to be the desk.
The poor, God-forsaken, pathetic excuse for a desk. Carol felt the urge to sob at the sight.
God, what have I done to deserve this?
Only one Carol could fit behind this desk. Only half-a-Carol could fit comfortably. The desk seemed to be trapped into an eternal sigh of age, slightly sagging in the middle and giving extra weight to the ready-to-collapse legs. The surface of its sandy brown top would only hold maybe half of the contents of Carol's rather cumbersome box. In short, it was the polar opposite of everything Carol had imagined.
Fantastic. Fan-freaking-tastic.
"So, what do you think of your new office?"
Carol was caught off guard by the utter peppiness of Pepper's voice. How could she expect anyone to like this hellhole, much less Carol Danvers, the girl who had day dreams about desks as frequently as she did about men? However, Carol was smart enough to know that yelling "I f***king hate it!" and then smashing through the wall and flying off into the sunset would not be the smartest point of action because: a) she would lose this supposed gem of a job, b) she could not smash through walls or fly as far a she knew, and c) it wouldn't be sunset until 11 hours from now.
Such is the typical thought process of Carol Danvers.
Carol swallowed the stream of expletives that had threatened to come out of her mouth and said,
"It's lovely; so…homey and…quaint."
Apparently satisfied, Pepper strode over to the far right wall.
"Excellent. And this," she gestured with her hand towards a door identical to the previous one they had entered through, "leads directly into the CEO's office, so whenever you have any questions, I'm just a knob-turn away."
Carol nodded shakily and gave a weak smile before Pepper continued.
"I'll get in touch with you if you're needed at all before you're ready. Take some time to set up your things before we begin."
Carol nodded again. "Well, you know where to find me."
Pepper began to face the door, but swiftly about-faced to her original position towards Carol.
"I'm sorry about not being as prepared as I usually am. No offense, but you did show up almost an hour early."
Carol responded, "Being punctual is just part of who I am, I guess. My parents always said, 'Early is on-time and on-time is late'."
Pepper smiled and arched an eyebrow. "My kind of girl."
Pepper smiled a final time before turning and opening the door. Carol turned to offer a pathetic smile for her departure. Suddenly, Carol received a glimpse of the fabled Tony Stark sitting at a large computer. Oddly enough, he seemed to be dressed in his pajamas, and also appeared to have not shaved for quite a while. The dark-haired man turned towards the new noise and locked eyes with the gasping assistant. Just before the CEO office, any natural light, and Pepper vanished from view behind the door, he smiled and threw Carol a flirtatious wink.
Carol was then trapped in her dark and stuffy personal hell.
Carol then allowed herself 2 minutes to flip the bird to the entire office, the desk, and the universe in general.
Then, she began to set up her things in a very professional manner.
Such was the Carol Danvers way.