Behind the masks
Three days in Strange's care are not so much of a price to pay for saving the whole Multiverse. America knows that, technically. Surviving them, on the other hand, may prove even tougher than fixing reality itself.
If there is a reason America doesn't like Big Damn Heroes —and there are many reasons— it's their self-importance. In her experience, they are so focused on their own image, their own issues, their fights and struggles, that they forget about the big picture, or about the little guys. All the more reason she'd never be an Avenger. Doctor Strange, in her opinion, is not so different to the rest. If anything, he might be a little more in sync with the Multiverse, but not so much that he'd manage to get his priorities straight. And so, he was endlessly offended that he was not required in their quest —her quest— to save the worlds.
"I should have been informed," he insists for the millionth time when the subject comes up, in one of Billy's visits.
"There's nothing you could've done," America replies once again, rolling her eyes. "He may have had a chance, but you were out of your depth."
Billy squirms, clearly preferring to be left out of the argument.
"I am the Sorcerer Supreme," he reminds them, grumpy, as he did every time she disrespected him. "I am tasked with protecting the Multiverse from this kind of threats precisely."
"But you didn't even realize it was happening," she teases with a smirk.
Strange's face goes through a wide range of shades, from pale, to red, to purple. God, she can't wait for Billy's turn at being Sorcerer Supreme. For the first time, it occurs to her that she'll actually live long enough to see it with her own eyes.
"I'm just messing with you," she says, trying to ease the tension mostly for Billy's sake. As she finally gets out of bed, er friend comes over, reaching out to help her stand, but one warning look manages to make him stop. She really doesn't need to feel more pathetic than she did all this days being taken care of. Nonetheless, she knows it was necessary, and so she sends Steven a more sincere look. "Thanks for the help... we will let you know if something like this comes up again. I mean if we need your help," she can't help but end in a cheeky tone.
"You do that," Strange says, his eyes darker and serious as he regards her. "If you'd strained yourself only a bit more, it would have been fatal. You know that, right?"
She's touched by his concern, but plays it off with a shrug.
"Occupational hazard."
Billy digs his elbow on her ribs, barely hard enough to make it uncomfortable. He sends her a disapproving look.
"We won't let her do it again, Sir," he assures the sorcerer.
Strange has a funny twinkle in his eye as he looks at Billy. He knows, America realizes. Strange looks at her next, and she sees the same amount of recognition in his eyes. As if he knew who she is, what she is. How much does he know? She wonders. She'll have to figure it out later. For now, she's just thrilled to be out of the sanctum and back into the world.
Billy hugs her, discretely holding her up. She leans slightly against him as they walk out to the street.
"Sir?" she teases with a chuckle.
"Shuddup," he grumbles, blushing.
Going back to work is a blessing, even if America has to sit through a big serious talk with her boss, who's not amused by her constant disappearing and then missing a bunch of days without showing up with no excuse. It's only a miracle that she's allowed to keep her job. She suspects it's mostly because it's hard to find a waitress that will put up with working for Lou. As she's putting on her apron she's approached by Rebecca, who smiles widely at her.
"Glad to see you again," she greets. "I was kinda worried about that whole thing with the portals..."
"Yeah, got lucky that I didn't get fired," America replies, pretending her friend is talking about her running off from work, and not the fact that she almost dies closing holes in the sky.
"Uh-huh, sure," the red head rolls her eyes, then gives her a gentle shove. "Seriously, I'm glad you're back."
"Won't be for long if I don't start earning my paycheck," she says, rushing out of the kitchen.
She still isn't entirely sure how she feels about her new friend knowing her identity. Not that most people don't already know, but so far she has been comfortable hiding from the world in here. She can only run from who she is for so long, though. If she gets too used to the whole secret identity thing, she's going to end like Spider-Man or Daredevil, chained to hiding who she is from the world. She doesn't like that idea either.
Work helps keep her mind of the bigger problems. She focuses on orders and food and dishes, and tries not to dwell on the dark clouds gathering inside her head the past few days. Like how clean-up after the portals went down, or what they would do with the foreign technology the aliens had left behind. In her opinion, they should destroy it as soon as possible, it doesn't belong to the Multiverse, let alone to this world, it doesn't seem safe keeping it around. Of course, some underground organizations have different plans for it already. She'd have to talk to Nullifier about putting up a clean-up operation before they hit the black market.
She also tries not to think on the Avengers recent return to Earth. Apparently, they'd encountered some of the holes out there in deep space too, and had gotten too caught up in them to realize the bigger scale of the attack. Now that they are back, she doubts they will be all too happy to see how the Young Avengers had taken over their operation. Not that she cares much about it, but Billy and Teddy were especially anxious about their results being evaluated by the old guys.
Another thought she keeps away is her mothers. Seeing their faces again, up close, hearing their voices, feeling their touch, it is more than she knows how to handle at the moment. This was different than Mothers's replicas. This was her moms. To have her memories refreshed and intensified, just to lose them all over again, feels like reopening an old wound that never really healed properly. Maybe this time, it will. She hopes so. She hopes some day her heart will stop aching, but right now all she can do is manage through the pain by focusing on day after day of normalcy.
Most of all, she tries not to think of a certain teammate who never showed up to visit her at the Sanctum. It's stupid, she tells herself, to care so much for his absence, but it was felt nonetheless. Last time she nearly died, he'd apparently been by her bed side for a while, and showed up just after she woke up. All that, of course, was before they had a big argument over whether she was allowed to sacrifice herself or not for the sake of the Multiverse. She can still remember his anger, can only imagine how it turned worse when she went through with her plan despite his reluctance. He's angry at her that she was willing to die. Since she survived, she had childishly hoped that anger would subside. Apparently, it didn't.
It's been almost three weeks now, and life is normal. Almost too normal. America is not sure what to do with normal. Even work becomes smothering. Turns out, when she's not using the place to distract herself from the end of the world, she can really notice what a pain in the ass her boss is. More than once she's fantasized with how it would feel like to punch his teeth out.
"Someone's asking for you," Rebecca says, walking into the kitchen and pulling America out of her violent dreams.
"Same guy as always?" She asks, cautiously, trying to keep herself grounded.
"Nah, some girl with dark hair," the other waitress shrugs, though by the look she shoots her America is not doing a great job at hiding her emotions.
Kate, she figures. That's good news too. Her favorite Hawkeye has been showing up a lot lately at the diner (she suspects it's mostly to make sure America won't disappear on them like before). She could really use a friendly face right now. She still hasn't told anyone about the night terrors that keep her up at night. Not that she's planning to tell Kate, but at least her presence will cheer her up.
The girl waiting for her in the diner is not Kate, but she's not unfamiliar either. It only takes her a couple seconds to remember those features. Then, her heart skips a beat.
"Loki?" She asks, cautiously, approaching the girl. She's dressed in a green sundress, with wild raven curls framing a pale face, and green eyes that seem even brighter when framed by dark lashes.
"Hello, Chavez," Loki replies, playing with the straw in her milkshake.
"This is unexpected," America says, standing in front of her.
"I realize I should have come to you sooner, but I had important Asgardian business to attend to," Loki says with a shrug. "I am here now, though."
"And you're a girl," America can't help but point out, still curious about the subject.
She could almost swear she saw Loki blush a little.
"Yes, well," the trickster says, eyes locked on the milkshake, "I figured this was the face less likely to get punched by you today. Heh."
"I can punch women too," America points out, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms. "And I don't like being manipulated."
"That was not my intention," Loki says, raising both hands in the air. America is inwardly pleased to recognized Loki's tone and expression, even in this new face. "I only meant... Well," she sighs heavily, "this was the face I wore when we last had an amicable conversation. I felt like it would be better suited for today."
America drops her head and lets out a heavy sigh.
"I... I don't actually wanna punch you," she admits. "So drop the disguise."
To her surprise, Loki flinches and starts playing with a lose strand of her dark hair.
"I told you, it is not a mask. This is who I am... just as much as the part of myself you are most used to. I am, well, both."
Oh.
America drops her arms, blinking at the girl in front of her. Loki had mentioned this before, in the Parallel, but only now is she really beginning to understand what it means.
"I can change back, though, if it will make you more comfortable," Loki offers.
"No," America replies, a little too fast. "I mean... you don't have to. If- If this is who you are too, then that is great! I mean, it's okay by me," she rambles a little, suddenly nervous. "I'm trying to say this form is, uh-" she clears her throat. She doesn't want to say how much she likes this form of Loki. "What I'm saying is... well, it's you either way, right. That's all that matters. It's all good for me."
Loki smiles at her, with something resembling fondness.
"So," the god, well, goddess, finally says, "you don't want to punch me?"
America shakes her head.
"Wait. Did you think I was angry at you?" She asks, tilting her head.
"I did go against your orders and told the team what you were planning to do," Loki reasons, taking a small sip of her milkshake.
"You did," America nods.
"And I am still not sorry for it," the other adds. "I just was not entirely sure how you felt about it."
"You saved my life."
"Technically, Billy did. Though, yeah, I suppose I do get a bit of the credit. I like that," Loki smiles brightly and America is almost winded by the sight of it.
"Good," she whispers.
She missed him. Her. Them. She missed their conversations. She looks away quickly, fidgeting with the edges of her apron. Loki thought she was angry at him for saving her life. All this time, thinking he hated her, turns out he was afraid of her. She's not sure what's worse. Did he really think so little of her, to believe she'd hurt him after everything he'd done? She figures she's earned that. She hasn't been a really good teammate.
Even as she averts looking, America can feel Loki's eyes analyzing her. She shifts, uncomfortable. Across the diner, she catches Lou's disapproving glare. Fuck.
"I should get back to work," she mumbles quickly, before turning away.
"Did you think I was mad at you, Chavez?"
The question catches her off guard, mostly by how cautious it sounds. She tenses, and turns around again to face Loki. She can only those bright green eyes for a second before looking away, though.
"You were mad at me. The other night," she points out.
"I was angry that you wanted to die," Loki says, and even in this form she recognizes the heaviness in her voice.
"I didn't want to die," America hisses, walking back to where Loki is sitting. "I had to."
"But you didn't," Loki says, gesturing at her. "You're still here. All you had to do was let us help."
"Fine. Fine. You were right," she rolls her eyes, annoyed. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"It does have a nice ring to it," Loki grins devilishly as she takes another sip of her milkshake. Then her smile falls to that dark look again. "Honestly, though, what I wanted was for you to live."
America arches her eyebrows, surprised.
"I dislike the idea of a Multiverse without you," Loki brushes off. "I believed you knew that already."
"...I didn't," America whispers, then catches herself and clears her throat. "Couldn't take the idea of no one nagging at you all the time?" She jokes, trying to ease the air between them.
"I have to admit I do like having your undivided attention," the goddess grins.
"Or maybe you just need me for your next mischievous plan," she chuckles.
"Perhaps," Loki nods, thoughtfully. "Or maybe-"
America's caught off guard when Loki throws herself forward to press a kiss to her lips. She's even more surprised by the way her own body replies, hungrily. She brings a hand up to the trickster's long dark hair and holds her tightly as she presses against the diner's bar to close as much space between them as she can.
"Enough! That's enough!" Lou actually gets out of his office to break them off. His face is red with indignation, covered in sweat and with eyes as wide as his horrible over cooked fried eggs. "I will not tolerate this in my diner. You," he points at Loki, "out. And you... you're fired!" He roars, getting all up in America's face.
She laughs.
"¡Por fin!" She grins, relieved.
Loki is grinning at her widely, with bright eyes and a devilish smile.
"Wait for you outside?" She asks cheekily.
"Will be there in a second," America says, actually throwing in a wink to spite Lou, who's gone all the way to purple with anger.
She rushes into the kitchen just in time for Rebecca to throw her star-spangled jacket at her.
"Word of advice?" The red head says. "Stick to world-saving. You're a terrible waitress."
America replies with a quick hug.
"See you at home?" her friend asks.
"Don't wait up for me," she replies before rushing out through the door.
Loki is waiting for her outside the diner. He's back to his male form, and when he sees her take notice he gives her an almost sheepish look.
"Is this alright too?" He asks, quietly.
"Yes," she says with a firm nod. "I mean... it's gonna be interesting, but it's still you. All of it. I like it."
Once again, she receives that bright smile. The kind of smile people like him or her rarely show to others. An open, sincere, smile with nothing to hide for once. She replies in form.
"Interesting is certainly a word for it," Loki muses. "I am definitively better than that Nullifier ass, but that is beside the point."
America snorts a laugh. "Should we go get some real food?"
"Yes, please," Loki says dramatically. "Those milkshakes where honestly terrible. I know a wonderful place, though, if you care to join me." He offers his arm out for her. How old-fashioned. She supposes she'll eventually grow used to that. She's got her whole life ahead of her for it.
Smiling, she hooks her arm with his. Without a warning, they disappear in a flash of green.
Ugh, she's definitively never going to get used to that.