The New Arrival
Outside Stark Tower
It was a long, painful walk. Over thirty minutes long, through the infamously crowded New York sidewalks, while maneuvering two rolling suitcases and a pet cage with an irritable tabby inside, all while the blazing hot sun was beaming down its fury on the hapless ants below. Through it all, Carol endured, in four inch heels. Never had she been cursing a decision more in her entire life. The need to look 'professional, but glamorous' should never, under any circumstances, have taken precedence over comfortable.
By the time she reached Stark Tower, her feet felt like they were about to detach themselves from her ankles and fight her. Her salvation was near at hand, but she had to take a timeout on the bench that was just the left of the front entrance. "Jesus tap dancing Christ. Never again," she declared breathlessly.
Just as her butt hit the hard, but welcomed stone slab, the traffic moved normally. Carol's jaw hit the ground. Had she waited half an hour more, just thirty measly minutes, she wouldn't have had to walk anywhere. She could have cried, but shedding tears over something so silly was not the Danvers way. So, she cried on the inside. Outwardly, she just buried her head in her hands.
"Just once," she bemoaned to herself, "just once, I would like something to go my way. Is that so wrong?"
"Excuse me, Miss?" a woman said to her while tapping her on the shoulder.
"It's Captain," she replied automatically. She looked up and saw a pretty woman with light red hair. She was dressed in a black and gold business suit, with a matching handbag slung over her shoulder. She was instantly recognizable. She was, of course, only the most famous woman on the planet; CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts. "Oh! Um..."
Pepper graciously smiled. "I take it you're the pilot Tony asked for."
Pepper Potts, one of the most powerful women in the entire world – and one of the savviest businesswomen – was speaking to her. As if she was on the same level as her. Like Carol Danvers, a masshole from Boston, Massachusetts, was an equal. Wow. Carol's starry-eyed gaze penetrated Pepper, peering deeply into her soul for approximately ten seconds before the cold slap from reality came in the form of a nervous cough. "Oh! Ah, yes. Yes, I am." She stood and almost saluted, but remembered that Pepper was just a civilian. "Captain Carol Danvers, US Air Force."
Pepper nodded appreciatively and shook her hand firmly. "Very impressive. Rhodey spoke very highly of you last night."
To hear that Col. Rhodes spoke so highly of her brought a soft blush to her cheeks. He was only one of the most highly respected officers in the entire Air Force. She even heard that he recommended that she be promoted to Major! "Thanks, Ms. Potts." Her feet sufficiently rested and the anger of her poor patience forgotten, she stood from the bench. "Well, can't meet the team from out here."
Pepper nodded and gestured to someone on the other side of the door. "Don't worry about your bags. Happy can take them in."
"Happy?" As soon as the word left her mouth, an older man with short black hair – and a receding hairline, but she tried to ignore that – and a sharp black suit stepped out and tried to grab her bags. Only for her to snatch them out of his grasp. "I got it. Thanks."
Happy faltered, but quickly recovered. "Right. I'll bring the car around, Pep."
She nodded absently as she watch Carol struggle to balance Chewie's cage on top of one of her suitcases. "It was very nice meeting you, Capt. Danvers."
Carol was in the middle of an intense power struggle with her pet cat when Pepper's words registered. "Nice meeting you, too, Ms. Potts!"
Meanwhile, inside Stark Tower
The rest of the Avengers were settling down in the living room when Steve and Tony walked in. "Alright, folks," the inventor said, clapping his hands together. "Capsicle says we need to relax, so let's relax. Who's ordering the food?"
"Guess I can order a few pizzas," Clint offered as he plopped down on the sofa beside his partner, Jessica. Natasha sat down on the other side of him. "What topping do you want, Jess?"
She threw her feet up into his lap while she thought about it. "Eh, surprise me."
"Anchovies and pineapples, it is." He laughed at the disgusted face she gave him. "What about you, Nat?"
"You know what I like, Barton," she answered. Her eyes glanced at Jessica and narrowed.
Ignoring Natasha, she inquired of the room at large, "Anyone have idea when Thor and Wanda will be back?"
"Nope," Natasha answered, still having not taken her eyes off her.
Clint glanced at Natasha, then at Jessica, then to Steve, flashing him a slightly annoyed look.
Steve could only shrug. He knew that ever since Fury partnered him up with Natasha and Jessica with Clint, the two haven't been the best of friends. Actually, he couldn't even say that they were friendly with one another. There had always been a fair amount of tension between them that he could never quite figure out. Whenever he asked one of them what her problem was with the other, he always got the runaround. To the point that he just stopped asking. Whatever the issue was, it didn't hinder their ability to work with one another, so he let it continue.
"Well, there's a surprise," she replied dismissively. "Any reason why you keep staring? I know I'm fit, but you're starting to get weird."
"Starting to?" Tony commented with a snicker.
Natasha silenced his laughter with a glance before returning to her primary mark. "Free country. I can look where I want," she stated with a casual shrug.
"It's bloody rude."
"Never learned manners."
Clint stood suddenly, nearly knocking Jessica to the floor. Without an audible word, but plenty muttered under his breath, he walked out and into the kitchen.
Jessica sighed and straightened out, crossing one leg over the other. "See what you've done? Your jealousy continues to bore me rigid."
"Jealousy? I'm just sitting here wondering why you're using another human being as a footstool."
Jessica smirked rather cryptically. "I use him for quite a bit more than that."
Steve just noticed Natasha flinch. He barely repressed a sigh. Back-and-forths like this happened twice, maybe three times a week. He would have said he was getting tired of it, but that just went without saying. He didn't like it when any of his friends argued, but especially arguments like this. Two women arguing over a man just wasn't a good look for either of them. Then again, he knew that what was happening between Natasha and Clint wasn't romantic or sexual. He had no idea what the nature of Clint's relationship with Jessica was behind closed doors, but it sounded like it was rather... intimate.
Not that it was any of his business. As long as they all remained professional, he didn't mind who did what with who and how.
"I don't know why you two keep fighting over Barton," Pietro said in a bored tone. "He's clearly not interested in either of you."
"I would disagree," Jessica retorted.
"Of course you would." He sighed and snatched the remote from the table in the blink of an eye. "You do realize that sex doesn't equate romantic attraction, right?"
Natasha's teeth were visibly grinding together.
"I never said we were shagging, now did I?" she countered. She leaned forward and looked him over. "Now, if you'd like to have a go..."
"I'd rather bathe in liquid nitrogen," he replied dryly.
Her smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Liar. Come on. I promise not to tell Wanda."
"бродяга," Natasha remarked rather loudly, followed by a bored sigh.
{Tramp.}
Steve sighed to himself. On second thought, maybe he should have done something about this tension before it got too serious. Last thing he wanted was for anyone's feelings to get hurt because someone said the wrong thing to one-up someone else.
"Well, this has all been enlightening," Bruce said patiently, "but, can we talk about something else?"
"Bruce is right," Tony agreed. "Let's talk about something else. Me, specifically."
Steve saw Natasha relax once Clint's business was out of the conversation, so he did as well. With the tension gone and forgotten – for the time being, anyway – he settled back into his recliner and watch his team banter and chat amicably among themselves. It was times like this that made him glad that the past was the past. These people, with their kooky behavior, weird quirks, sketchy pasts, and huge egos were his new family. And he was okay with that. He was okay with the Howling Commandos, Peggy, Howard, and all the others being left in his past. He was okay with having moved on from them to a new family.
Until he wasn't. Some days, he longed for what couldn't be any more. Those days were becoming more and more frequent. The exact opposite of what was supposed to be happening. The more he came to love his new team, the more he secretly yearned for his old team, his old friends, and Peggy.
The sound of Thor's boots hitting the balcony brought him back from his deep ruminations. He sat up and watched him and Wanda stride in purposefully, their faces both carrying the same ominously troubled expression. "My friends, we bring troubling news."
"You found something?" He glanced at Tony and could tell he was thinking the same.
"Aye. While we were searching the streets, Wanda noted that she detected traces of magic around the area where the Makluan beast appeared and vanished, as well as where the cloaked man we faced was standing."
Steve tilted his head down in thought. He already admitted freely that this magical business went straight over his head. Even the weapons Hydra made with the Tesseract during the war were more straightforward than the stuff Wanda enjoyed reading up on and utilizing.
It was bad enough that he had to deal with monsters, gods, and people in super suits. Now, even the fellas he could normally just punch in the face and call it a day could just wave their hands and blow up a city with parlor tricks!
Bruce shook his head. "And you think that Khan's powers come from magic?"
Wanda quirked an eyebrow as she sat down next to her brother. "Khan? Who's that?"
"The name of the guy who attacked us," Tony explained. "Gene Khan."
"I see." She noted how his expression changed subtly when he said the name, but said nothing about it. "I'm not sure, Bruce. It's difficult to say without studying them more closely. When we were heading back, I saw a woman following us. She headed into an alley that ended in a dead end, but when I went to check seconds later, she was gone. Nowhere to be seen."
Clint returned in time to hear the latter half of Wanda's account, and sat down on the arm rest next to Jessica. "What? Was she a ghost or something?" he joked with a laugh.
"This is no jesting matter, friend archer," Thor said, voiced threaded with graveness. "I sensed Asgardian magic around where the woman vanished. The very same Asgardian magic that I felt around where this Gene Khan was situated."
Clint stopped laughing and drew within him, making himself smaller. "Is it—" He couldn't even get the name out before succumbing to a fierce shudder. Jessica squeezed his hand between hers, which seemed to calm him down some.
"Last I checked, my brother is still powerless and still imprisoned, surrounded by armed guards at all times. That was last week, and Heimdall has told me nothing of even an attempt at escape. But, I shall away at nightfall to make certain."
Hearing that brought Clint relief. The very last thing he, or any of them, wanted was to see that bastard again, much less fight him again. "If not him, then who?"
"Mayhap this Gene Khan is an Asgardian I have not met, or more likely, in league with one. As to who, I am uncertain. There are several sorcerers in Asgard besides Loki. To be truthful, we all use magic of some kind. For example, the lightning I summon is many leagues more powerful than Midgard's natural lightning. It could very well be one of the dozens who actually specialize in spells.
Tony nodded absently. "Okay, so we have not only a guy with possibly magical rings, but also yet another Asgardian on the loose. I'm seriously considering getting you guys some locks for that bridge of yours, Point Break," he said, smirking, but only half-joking.
"Did you get a good look at her, Wanda?" Pietro asked. "I can go out and find her within the hour if I can get a good description of her."
"That's a good idea," Steve agreed.
"Sorry," she replied with a slow shake of her head. "I only caught a brief glimpse of her. All I know is that she has blonde hair, and there are thousands of those walking around New York."
Pietro hummed to himself. "That does indeed pose a problem."
"It's like finding a needle in a haystack," Jessica posited. "We just need a magnet."
"I have one of those. J, patch into the Stark Tactical Imaging Satellite and pull up the imagery of the block where Thor and Wanda were walking."
"The images you requested, sir," Jarvis replied seconds later. Holographic images popped up in the center of the room. Dozens of them. Tony stood from his seat on one of the sofas and began sifting through them. The ones that were of no use were swiped away and vanished into the ether. Finally, he came across one of a blonde woman in dark sunglasses, black jeans and boots, and a red t-shirt appeared. He flipped through a few more and enlarged the image with the best view of her face. "And here's your stalker. Huh. Not bad. She's no Pepper; but then, who is?" He turned to see if anyone knew her, only to find Natasha glaring at the image. "Everything cool, Red?"
She looked both disappointed and incensed, which was not a comforting combination. They were both emotions that she never showed, under any circumstances.
"Tasha," Clint said softly, just barely louder than a whisper.
Her emerald eyes snapped toward him, catching his calming gaze. Slowly, her face returned to its usual neutral setting. "I'm fine," she reassured simply, but curtly.
He nodded, knowing she wasn't, but also knowing she wasn't going to talk about it until she was ready.
"Sirs and madams, I would inform you that Capt. Carol Danvers is on her way up as I speak."
Everyone looked around, each just as confused at the next person. "Do we know a Carol Danvers?" Bruce wondered to no one in particular.
Tony didn't take his eyes off the image as he answered. "Not that I know of. One of yours, Capsicle? You're a captain, too, right?"
"Yeah, but I've never heard of her." The elevator dinged and opened. A tall drink of water walked inside in the form of a blonde woman with stunning blue eyes and an even more stunning figure. Wavy blonde hair bounced with each step. She, however, seemed extremely flustered by something. Possibly the cat inside the pet cage that was precariously balanced on one of her two suitcases.
Wow. She's... she's beautiful, he thought to himself. His eyes lingered on her, slowly drifting downward until they came to a rest on the shiny medals on her jacket. He smiled; she was an Air Force captain. He had heard that women were allowed in the military. He was glad; he had long felt that women were just as capable of serving their country as the fellas were.
I wonder if she's rationed. Wait, come on, Steve! You don't even know the girl!
His thoughts were interrupted by Clint jabbing his elbow into his ribs. "You're staring," he whispered, much to Steve's chagrin and embarrassment.
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and blushed. "I apologize, ma'am. You're the new pilot, right?"
She had somehow grown even more flustered than she was when she walked in. "That's right. Col. Rhodes said you needed someone to play chauffeur, and I'm your girl. Capt. Carol Danvers. 325th, US Air Force." She saluted sharply.
From what he heard from Tony, Col. Rhodes knew what he was talking about. Steve saluted back out of instinct. "Well, Captain, I can't say that I disagree with his recommendation. You look very capable. It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Danvers."
"Likewise, Captain Rogers," she said with a bright smile that turned into a small wince.
"Oh, would you like to have a seat?" He gestured toward his chair. She nodded gratefully and strode over to sit down. He immediately noticed how confident she was when walked, and couldn't help but find it attractive.
"Thanks. I've been on my feet for thirty minutes in the blazing heat. My dogs are singing right now." She took off her heels and rubbed one of her feet.
"Nice to meet you, Cap," Clint said with a respectful nod. "I'm Clint, and this is Natasha and Jessica. That's Bruce over there and next to him is Thor. Over there is Wanda and her twin brother, Pietro. And last, but certainly not least is—"
"Cheeseburger!" Tony exclaimed when he finally turned around and beheld the new arrival. "Long time no see."
"Not long enough, Mr. Stark," Carol muttered, her improved mood immediately soured.
"Nonsense. I knew you couldn't resist me. Sorry, but you missed the boat. I'm taken now."
"Darn. Whatever will I do now with all this unrequited love?" She shook her head irritably.
"I take it you two know each other," Steve said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. Of course Tony knew Carol. She was a beautiful woman – very beautiful – and if there was one thing Tony loved more than anything once upon a time, it was beautiful women. There was no point in even bothering.
"Sure do. I met her years ago, back when she was just Honey Bear's little fangirl." Tony chuckled, as if remembering a fond memory. "You should have seen her, following him around like a lost puppy, drinking in his every word like gospel. You'd think Rhodey was the Messiah looking at her starry-eyed gaze."
Carol's jaw was jutted out in sheer annoyance. "I see you have a gun," she said to Natasha, referring to the gun on her hip. "Mind if I borrow it?"
"Oh, this? Sorry, it's biometrically keyed to my fingerprints," she answered with a smirk.
"Really? Sounds fancy. What do you do, if I can ask?"
She paused briefly, as if contemplating how to answer without giving too much away. "I'm an agent."
"CIA, FBI, or...?"
"State Farm."
Her fellow SHIELD agents snickered softly.
"Oh. Classified, then."
"Yeah. If we told you what we really do," Jessica's face hardened like an iron statue, "we'd have to kill you."
Carol quickly filed that under 'do not ask'.
"It's nice to meet you, Captain, but you picked a bad time to show up. We're going through the starts of a major crisis," Bruce said with a sympathetic half-smile.
"The wonder twins over there are finally hitting puberty," Tony chimed, coaxing eye roll from said twins. "Also, a madman and his supervillain friends are trying to kill us," he added nonchalantly, almost as an afterthought.
"What?!"
"Yep. Basically, a terrorist named Gene Khan attacked us yesterday with freaky magical rings and an actual dragon. Turns out he cobbled together a group of other terrorists to help him kill us. They include him, the dragon, this lady," he jabbed a thumb at the image of the blonde woman, "and an Asgardian. They call themselves the Masters of Evil – lame, I know – and we have no idea where they are, what they plan on doing, or how they plan on doing it. Questions? Comments?
Carol sat still for several moments, dead silent. Terrorists, she had dealt with before. Terrorists were no problem at all. All that other shit he mentioned, not even close. Dragons, magic rings, whatever the hell an Asgardian was; that was shit that they didn't go over in basic training.
Whatever hope she had that this was going to be a simple occupation flew out the window before she could even get started. And yet, despite the very real danger she suddenly found herself in, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. "Good thing I can swim, because I just dove into the deep end."
"If you want to reconsider—" Steve started, only to be cut off.
"Reconsider? Are you joking? This is what I live for. What kind of soldier would I be if I didn't get in line to kick some terrorist ass?"
"I think she'll fit right in," Pietro said with a small smirk, with the others offering various degrees of agreement.
"Well, that settles it, then. If you'd like, we can show you up to your room," Steve offered.
"Yes, I'd love that. It's been a long, hectic morning." She stood and headed for her bags, which happened to be right next to the elevator.
He remembered how flustered she was trying to maneuver those two bags, as well as that pet cage when she first arrived. Hoping to alleviate some of the load, he jogged ahead of her and grabbed one of the bags. "I can take your bags up for you."
"I got it. Thanks."
"It's no troub—"
She all but snatched the suitcase handle out of his hand. "I said I got it," she said more forcefully, before adding in a softer, "Thank you."
Steve stood there, frozen. His expression was a mixture of confusion and embarrassment, which had been a constant from the moment Carol arrive. Had he done something wrong? Did women not like gentlemen? Did they not like being helped? Had he missed a memo somewhere?
The elevator doors dinged, prompting Carol to roll her bags inside. A sharp metal clang of the cage hitting the floor sounded, followed by the violent hiss of an agitated feline. "Shit," she cursed. "Sorry, girl."
Jessica glided smoothly inside the car before the doors closed. "I'll show her to her room, Cap." Steve didn't reply when the doors closed. She stepped around the suitcases and leaned against the back railing. "You'll be up on the 82nd floor, across the hall from me. That okay?"
"Sure, that's fine."
As the car moved upward, the two women fell into a comfortable silence that was only filled by the sound of the car gliding up and Chewie's soft purring.
Which was good, because Carol was in no mood for talking. Not that Jessica was a bad person to speak with – she seemed like a cool girl to hang out with on a Friday night – and certainly not because Carol was terrified of her after she threatened to kill her if she so much as asked what she did for a living. Rather, she could not believe she just blew off Captain America like he was some overzealous white knight. It was unreal. One moment, he was offering to help her take her bags up to her room – which she desperately needed – the next, he looked like she had just curbstomped his puppy. His gorgeous blue eyes, all wide with confusion, would haunt her for the rest of her life.
"So," Jessica drawled in an attempt to break up the silence. "I gather you don't much care for chivalry."
Great. Carol stifled a sigh. She figured it was only a matter of time before she brought it up. Probably because she was mad that Carol humiliated her friend. "No, it's not that," she replied with a slight stammer. "I... I just don't like having things done for me."
"So, you're one of those types. I see."
She couldn't help it. "What's that supposed to mean?" She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice, since Jessica was a State Farm agent and could kick her ass six ways to Sunday.
"The kind of tough girl who can do it all on her own, without anyone's help, and especially without a man's help," she replied plainly.
A little over-simplified, but pretty close to the mark. Of course, Carol accepted help sometimes, like if whatever she was doing was literally impossible without another person. Even then, she had to see for herself just to make sure she couldn't do it. "Is that a problem?" Certainly not the tone of voice recommended when speaking to a trained State Farm agent.
"No," she replied with a slight frown. "But, I would highly suggest you not pull that again with Steve."
"Why not?" Could you make yourself sound like a bigger bitch, Carol?
"Because he's the most genuine person I've ever met," she more asked than said. "When he comes to you trying to help, he actually wants to help, instead of just looking for a way into your knickers."
This time, she didn't try to repress the pathetic sigh that came bubbling out. "Yeah, I know he is. I can tell." Steve, honestly, seemed too earnest to be that subtle and sneaky.
"Then why you say it?"
"Out of reflex, mostly. Also, Chewie doesn't like being handled by strangers. But, mostly reflex."
Jessica hummed to herself, but didn't respond. Good; she didn't want to go into why she had needed to say 'I got it. Thanks' enough times for it to become a reflexive response every time someone tried to pull out her chair whenever she went out to dinner with someone. Speaking of, she wondered if he was single. Probably not. There was no way in any circle of hell that a guy like that didn't have a line of women following him around on a daily basis.
Besides, someone like Carol didn't stand a chance with someone like Captain America.
"Cute cat, by the way."
She was grateful for the subject change. She made a mental note to return to Steve and his jawline before bed. "Thanks. My mom got her for me for my birthday last year. Her name's Chewie."
Jessica nodded amicably. "Oh, just FYI, but I was just having a go at you when I said I wanted to kill you. You look like a nice girl."
Carol assumed that meant she was joking. Strange way of putting it, though. She was pretty sure go was a verb, not a noun. Then again, it sounded like she was from England or Britain. Whatever it was called. "That accent... England?"
"Right, love. London, to be precise." It appeared that she was just as interested in her own accent; however much of it was noticeable, anyway. Which wasn't very much, as she went through great lengths to minimize it as much as possible. "Your accent... New England?"
"Right... love. Boston, to be precise."
She snorted softly.
Calling another woman 'love' felt a little odd. She wondered what that word meant. She could have just asked her, but the elevator stopped on their floor before she could decide on it. Later, then.
"Alright, then. Here we are. There are four penthouses per floor. Mine is right over here," she gestured to the first door on the left, "while Bruce's and Natasha's are the ones down the hall. "You'll be right across from me, so go ahead and have a peek."
Carol's hand gripped the doorknob, but noticed it was locked upon jostling it. Before she could let go, a red light scanned her fingerprints. The door unlocked seconds later. She opened it, and couldn't stop her jaw from hitting the floor. The penthouse was one of four on a floor, and yet, was larger and more spacious than any house she had ever lived in. It was as big as the childhood home her father built from the ground up when she was a little girl, and much bigger than the quarters she stayed in on any Air Force base. Never had she ever had anything this nice. The walls were painted a deep red, while the carpet felt so soft and plush between her aching toes.
The view of New York was breathtaking from the panoramic window. "The dog's bollocks, eh?" Jessica asked as she sidled up next to her. "You've a master bedroom with a king sized bed and another view just like this one, a walk-in closet, and a fifty-inch telly. That one in the living room is seventy inches. You've also another guest room, a full bathroom with just the most delightful showerhead fixtures you've ever had, a kitchette, washer and dryer, another hall closet, and a nice balcony for those late nights where you just want to stare at the city and think about shite."
The dog's... bollocks? What those were, and what they had to do with her new penthouse was completely lost on her. Not that it mattered. It was all too much. There was no way she was going to be able to properly appreciate all she had. No way in any lifetime could she comprehend how a man could have something like this prepared for any potential guests. She could only assume that this was prepare between last night and right then, and that the other unoccupied penthouses were empty.
She bent down to let Chewie out of her cage. The feline meowed and stalked off somewhere to explore. "Wow. Stark spares no expense, does he?"
"Right you are, love. It's one of the things I adore about him; he's more than willing to go the extra kilometer for the people he cares about. Hell, just opening up his home to a bunch of strangers is enough. To give them this kind of luxury?" She laughed and shook her head. "He may act like a jackass, but he really does have a heart of gold."
Carol grinned and made a mental note to swallow her pride and thank Tony for the kind gesture. "Yeah... I'm going to like it here."