Carol Danvers, bath
It's eight pm on a Friday night, and Carol is bored.
No, not bored, not really. If she says she's bored, even thinks it, the universe will respond by sending some Doombots to invade Manhattan or a swarm of multi-dimensional locusts somewhere in the middle of the country. So she's not bored, no. She's … lost.
Her apartment is quiet, the only noise the sounds of the city coming in through an open window. She'd love to go flying, but if she decides to fly for anything less than a life-and-death emergency, she's fairly certain Jess will sit on her (and not in the good way). Worse, she'll call Steve, and he'll give Carol his "I'm very disappointed in you" face, and not even Kree super-powers are any match for Steve Rogers' puppy-dog eyes.
Chewie meows at her when she flops onto the couch. "Oh please, you don't need all this space," she shoots back. The cat just blinks at her, unimpressed, and settles back down to sleep when Carol scratches behind his ears. After a few minutes of purring, he apparently decides he's had enough, and bat Carol's hand away. "Fine," she mutters, standing and heading toward the small kitchen area.
On her way, she catches sight of a garish green and purple gift basket, something a thankful New Yorker had pressed into her hands one day last week. She'd tried to refuse, but the woman was insistent, so Carol had ended up carrying a basket filled with scented shower gel, bubble bath, and body lotion home on the subway. She'd tossed it into a corner, intending to pass it off to someone who would appreciate it, but...
Without giving herself time to over-think things, she grabs the basket and heads to her small bathroom. Carol turns on the hot water to give it time to heat up while she strips, tossing her clothes into the small hamper she usually uses for towels. When the water is warm enough, she pours in a good measure of bubble bath--lavender scented, it seems--and plugs the drain, watching as the bubbles start to grow and cover the surface of the water. It's hypnotic, almost mesmerizing, and before she knows it, the tub is almost too full. She turns the water off and gingerly steps in.
The water isn't that hot, especially not for someone who can withstand the heat of atmospheric reentry naked, but Carol takes her time getting acclimated before finally lying down. The water laps against her upper chest and shoulders as she wriggles down, her knees chilly where they poke up from the bath. Still, even with the annoyance of a too-small tub, Carol finds herself relaxing, inch by anxious inch. She closes her eyes and lets herself drift.
The next thing she knows, she's jerking awake in chilly water. She sits up abruptly, splashing some onto the floor, looking around with wide eyes. From the cracked doorway, Chewie meows pitifully, staring at the wet tile as if it's about to bite him. Carol laughs, relief flooding her system in the wake of adrenaline. She opens the drain and stands, dripping water over the floor as she reaches for a fluffy towel. Chewie takes offense and stalks off, tail held high and straight. "Yeah, you go, you big baby" she mutters, drying herself off.
She wraps the towel around her, tucking the end in, and looks at herself in the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes are still there, but less prominent, and the flush from the warm water makes her look healthier than she has in weeks. "Okay, maybe there is something to this," she admits to herself as she tucks the purple bottle into her medicine cabinet. "But if Tony Stark finds out about it, I'll strangle him myself."
Her only answer is Chewie's loud meow from the living room.