Magnetic

“We should get married” the words were whispered to you, her breath hot against your cheek, smelling so thickly of the champagne that was offered upon your arrival. Kate’s nose was comparatively cold, brushing against your skin. It made you shiver, hitting all the way at the base of your spine.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Kate’s green eyes were focused on your father again, as he and Lyla gave their alternating speech about the future of Alchemax. They were to change the world, and if they didn’t like the way it had been altered, they’d simply have the power to jump to a new one.

“You’re drunk,” You answered, taking a deliberate sip of your own drink.

“Tipsy, at best and entirely serious at worst.”

You frowned at that, finally devoting your full attention to the woman on your arm. The two of you were matching dark green, something that brought out the gold in her eyes. What your father was saying had no weight to it, never did. Sure, you understood the bare minimum of his science, and you were just here for obligation, but now his speech turned into a dull hum.

Nothing else mattered other than the small smile on Kate’s face, her arm looped through yours, warm and steadying. She plucked another flute from a catering tray and when she took a drink, red rimmed the glass.

“Is this a formal offer?” You asked, eyebrow raised.

“Just a thought. I’d expect a ring, you know?”

You parted your lips to respond, but the room flooded with a roar of clapping and cheers. Kate winked at you and turned her attention back to the stage. Your father had found you through the crowd, his hands clenching both sides of the glass podium.

His head was cocked to the side, jaw working in anger. There was a hatred behind his stare, one that went past general annoyance. You raised your hands, clapped with the rest of the crowd. Lyla put a hand on your father’s shoulder, drawing him back, a smile complacent on his face.

The air that you pulled into your lungs was cold and damp, a stark contrast to the warmth you had drifted into. At some point, a window opened, and a cold wind whipped through a living room that you barely recognized.

The sun was peaking over the horizon, and deep glowing embers from a dying fire failed to provide any heat. You squinted at the rain on the windowsill, what had dribbled in from a quick entry.

Your eyes moved to each darkened corner of the room, something that looked so familiar to your own apartment, but lived in, comfortable. There was a sense of dread in the pit of your stomach- one that was strong enough to wake you from a fitful sleep coated in memories of a life lost.

There was pressure in your head, every inch of hair on your body standing on end. Without thinking, because thinking was bad when it came to Spider Sense, you just had to do, you grabbed the throw pillow from under your head and held it in front of you.

The sound of ripping fabric filled your ears and feathers exploded all around you. It had been torn into two, and as you stared up at the blob of a person who had done that pillow homicide, you struggled to gather your thoughts.

Without the grunt of frustration, you wouldn’t have recognized him, not as your eyes adjusted to the slowly rising sun. In your sleep-ridden state, you still managed to wedge your foot under your attacker and toss him across the room, knocking picture frames and keyholders from their designated place.

“Miguel?”

You were standing now, staring at your older brother with enough contempt to light the end of a torch. He lumbered over the room, his shadow reaching you. With each breath he took, he growled. His eyes were unblinking, red.

“I didn’t want to believe it.” He hissed, “That you… were world hopping.”

He sounded older, angrier than you had ever heard him before. His fists were clenched and as the light filled the room you got a good look at his suit, his mask pulled off and wild black hair falling into his stare. His teeth were pointed, bared like a wild animal. You ran your tongue over your own, keeping them sheathed.

The last time you saw Miguel was at the very dinner you had left to get your father for. He was in a stupid patterned sweater that you were poking fun at all night. But there were laugh lines around his eyes and warmth that was lacking from the room now.

Your voice cracked “Did dad do this to you?”

“I asked him to, begged him. He’s been so focused on getting you back that it took some convincing. More than some, really. Day and night all he would do is stare at the monitor tracking your signature.” Miguel lilted his head to the side “He fell asleep just in time for you to pop up in this world.”

“Does he know?”

“I came as soon as I saw. I wanted to see my big bad sibling in the flesh. Infused with vampire DNA, strong enough to dismantle father brick by brick with his… his longing.”

“Miguel, does he know?”

“Not yet.”

Tension leaked through the distance in the room. You could taste the feathers in your mouth, lingering with the blood from a chewed lip. This was not the brother you remembered. This was a mercenary, this was a man who had no grip on reality.

“While I’m super stoked about the reunion, brother, this isn’t my place and you’ve already shredded a throw pillow” A lamp shattered by your head, echoing off the wall and sprinkling glass at your feet. You looked down at the mess and back up at him. “Dude?”

Miguel moved with a quickness that mirrored yours, his claws exposed and swiping through the air. You grasped his wrist, using your other hand and your strength behind it to hit him in the stomach. You felt the air rush from his lungs, hot on your face.

“Reunions are for the weak. Love is for the weak.” He pulled your arm back and you grunted in pain, shoulder popping. “That’s always been your biggest problem.”

You frowned, using the weight behind you to push him over the back of the sofa and onto the hardwood floor. He scrambled, hitting the back of his head against the tabled pushed up to the window. The sun was streaming through now, orange and unforgivingly strong.

“Weak? You’re the one that’s always hidden behind daddy’s money, his science. Don’t you understand Miguel? I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this. I had everything, and I was happy.”

“Yes. Weak.” He hauled himself to his feet, using the back of his hand to wipe away a streak of blood from his lip. “Naive. You put all of yourself into one girl and that was a liability. That angered father more than anything, you know? He gave you the world and you squandered it for someone rotting in a wooden box.”

He meant to provoke anger. It was a tactic that he used often and ferociously since the two of you were children. Miguel had a mean streak and was quick to rage. He would rip your toys apart with his bare hands, and during one particularly nasty fight right before your senior prom he had gnawed the cap off an ink pen and dripped it across the fabric of your outfit.

Kate had reassured you that it was fine, that none of it mattered and was superficial anyway. Still, when she arrived on your doorstep dark blue splotches muddied her silver dress. A smile cracked against her lips. She had even found a blue carnation to match.

There were good moments with Miguel. More good than bad, if you looked back on it. Once he matured, and apologized for his behavior, there was still an edge of jealousy around him. His need to please. You had let go of that aspect of yourself years before when you realized nothing you did would satiate your father.   

Regardless of his intention, it provoked the right reaction. You were, after all, mostly human and when your brother pushed your buttons, he did with intention. You found yourself on top of him, knees on either side as you shoved his shoulders to the wooden floor. In a blind rage, you threw as many hits as you could; one after the other, your knuckles aching, each time you pulled back more black blood would coat your knuckles.

Your own claws, something you barely exposed, pushed into the soft skin of your palms, a sharp sting aiding in your anger. Eventually you felt an arm around your midsection, pulling you back with unnatural strength.

“Whoa, Whoa, Whoa!” Peter’s voice snapped you out of it.

You felt the aching of your shoulder, no doubt pulled out of place for the second time this month. You tried to blink away the anger, the despair that came with Miguel’s statement. Blood dripped from your fingers, puddling on the carpet. Deep breathes, you just needed deep breaths.

There was another hand on your shoulder, the scent of egg and bread that wormed it’s way through the metallic air in the room. The grasp was tender, and a hand was on your face, leading you.

Kate

Again, she had shown up at the most inopportune time. You’d absolutely ruined the shirt she had given you, and feathers were stuck to the blood in your hair. Miguel would be fine, you were sure. Afterall, you healed the same way.

“Hey,” Kate ran her fingers over your cheeks, “Y/n, come back to me, alright? Put the teeth away.”

The teeth. God, you had bitten through your bottom lip. You ran your tongue over the sharpened tips, relished the pressure that was released when you let them escape. Still, you were quick to reign it back in, take a shaking breath.

You came back to the room around you. It was a wreck; glass sprinkling the wooden floor, features coating every viable surface. Miguel let out a soft groan, masked with a gurgle. Peter was at his side, fingers searching haplessly for a pulse. He wouldn’t find a strong one.

They had gotten breakfast, leaving you alone in the apartment to sleep. Quickly, you wiped your fingers on the already ruined garment, giving Kate a pleading look of an apology. There was no fear behind her eyes, nothing that evaded to disgust of the monster that was standing in front of her. Because that’s what you were at the end of the day.

The same monster that was lying unconscious on the floor. You had the same teeth, and claws, and DNA running through your veins. The experiment had worked on you in the same manner. And part of you- part of you wondered if your Kate would still feel the same way about you, looking at you now.

“He,” Your voice was soft, garbled, so you cleared your throat “He won’t stay out for long.”

Kate pleaded silently, “Pete?”

“I’ve got it.”

You were being led into the back bedroom. It was Kate’s, something apparent by the abundance of trophies, and a workstation that was littered with small pieces of explosives. There was a target with a news article for King Pin strapped against it’s center. Her aim, of course, was impeccable.

It smelled like her, the scent cutting through the blood and the dizziness that rushed through you, an after-effect of the anger. She led you to the bed, plopping you down and digging in the bottom drawer of her desk. Kate emerged with a first-aide kit. You let her busy herself, blinking away the rest of the disorientation.

You attempted to get up, but Kate pushed you back down gently, deliberately. There was a stern look on her face that was enough to keep you in your place. You’d let her play doctor, fix up the wounds that struggled to heal. Her touch was gentle, soothing, and constant.

“This was a horrible idea.” Kate admonished, a frown on her face as she shifted through the loose bandages and the small packets of anti-septic. She was mumbling under her breath, something that was a mix of annoyance and worry. “I told you it was an awful idea and now-“

You gently grabbed her hands, halting her movement. She looked up at you, eyes hard with anger. But they softened only a moment later, a quiet surrender. You had a goofy smile on your face. The blood had dried at your hairline and maybe it was the head injury itself, but this was entirely too comical to deny.

“Katie, I fully accepted the consequences the minute I agreed to spar with Jack.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Love, I promise I’m okay” You laughed, moving your hand against her cheek with a softness that ebbed away the rest of her rage. “Give me a bandage and some ice and I’ll be as good as new, I swear it.”

It was supposed to be a family dinner, and then you and Jack started riling each other up over dessert. Kate’s mother swallowed a gulp of red wine and rolled her eyes, shrugging at her daughter as if there was nothing to do to stop the course of events.

Eventually, the coffee tables were pushed to the side and the fencing sabers were brought out. Kate was much better than you were by miles and miles of talent. But you could hold your own. It got out of hand, a little too competitive.

Kate was exasperated, but it only lasted for a few moments before the smile melted her exterior and she grinned herself. “Fine. Fine. You did good. It’s not your fault that you chose to puff out your chest against a swordsman.”

“Hey, I think I did amazing until I tripped over the coffee table.”

“Sure, baby. Very valiant.”

You huffed, but let Kate guide your head to the side. You winced with the alcohol pad started to wipe away the deep brown color. No stitches needed, just a strategically placed bandage. Kate placed a soft kiss between your eyebrows.

“You know,” you said, pressing your forehead against hers “You are in the perfect position to propose right now.”

“Without a ring?” Kate beamed, her nose scrunching up “Not a chance.”

Kate frowned, her thumb moving against your hairline “It looks like you’ve healed.”

There were alcohol pads scattered against the bed. They were dark red, then brown, then a soft pinkish-orange. The pad of her finger traced a barely visible scar. Electricity moved across your skin.

“It’s alright,” you assured “I’m… I’ll help clean up the mess. I’m sorry.”

Your mind was swimming and not in smooth waters. Kate looked so much like Kate. She had the same concern, the same tender touch. You stared at her, hair falling into your eyes. There had been a moment last night, before you drifted to sleep, that allowed you to hope.

Miguel had squashed it, just as he had the night that he bit into a blue ink pen. He got the same amount of blue pigment on his lips that he did on your dress, and part of you wanted to laugh at the metaphor.

“I don’t care about the mess, y/n. You’re what matters.” She grimaced, laid her hand on your knee. “Are you alright? Who is that man?”

“My older brother. He’s got a nasty temper and it won’t take long for my father to follow him through whatever hell he crawled out of.”

Again, you attempted to stand, but Kate pushed you back down with more force this time. Her hand had moved to your shoulder, keeping you in place. “Relax for a second, alright? We knew this was coming. This is just an extra obstacle.”

“An obstacle with the power of splice DNA like a God.” You laughed humorlessly.

“Okay, a big obstacle, but nothing we can’t overcome.”

“You’re way too optimistic for eight am.”

The dorky smile on Kate’s face was wiped away when a loud clang came from the living room. You winced, sucking air through your teeth. Kate was on her feet and pulling the door open in a moment. You were close behind, the lavender scent that clung to the girl tickled your throat.

Her mouth was propped open in shock. All of the furniture was upside down, the couch belly-side up. There were DVD’s everywhere and a potted plant that splayed dirt across the hardwood floor. The breakfast still seemed intact, but the coffee had spilled, something that caused Kate to jut her bottom lip out in a pout.

Peter stood by the window, both of his arms outstretched, and his palms pointed towards the floor. His eyes were widened. “I- one minute he was right there, and then the next, gone! Everything was floating, like gravity just got turned off.”

“Huh,” Kate lilted her head to the side “not was weird as fifteenth street bodega guy.”

“He’s gone,”

“No, pretty sure we saw him on the way to get breakfast this morning.”

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. “Not the bodega guy. My brother.”

“Right, right. No, I knew that.” Kate nodded, her face stoic again.

“He’s going to come back.” You said.

“Look, it… it doesn’t matter. Because when he does come back, we’ll be able to handle it. I have already called Clint and Yelena. They’re both in and with all four of us, there’s no way we can lose.”

There was a sadness in your eyes as you looked at the hopefulness in Kate’s. This was putting too many people out, pulling Clint away from his family and Yelena away from… whatever Yelena did in this universe. In most of them, she wasn’t fond of you.

“We wait for them to get here and come up with a strategy that will be fool proof. We can’t fail.” Kate knelt down, picking up the discarded bag of breakfast. She rummaged until she found what she was looking for and looked up at you, holding a bagel. “But first, we eat.”

“I can’t believe you’re thinking about food right now.” You shouted over the sideways smattering of rain. It would shift directions with each new gust of wind, making the awnings you and Kate had crowded under obsolete.

You’d taken off your jacket and draped it over Kate’s shoulders when the first drops had started. Both of you naively thought you could make it back to the apartment before the storm rushed in full-force.

The two of you had closed out a restaurant, never running out of conversation, drinking a full bottle of red even after dessert had been served and cleared. Now she breathed evenly, her nose inches from yours, your back against the outer wall of a storefront.

A few drops of rain sparkled in her hair, the gold flecks in her eyes noticeable when you were this close. Kate hugged your jacket closer. She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m just saying, the ice cream in the freezer is calling my name.”

You hummed, pressing your lips to Kate’s. You could taste the earth of the wine, the coolness of the rain. She smiled into the kiss, sighing into you. She shivered, keeping her forehead pressed to yours. Thunder shook the windows of the building. Kate pulled your coat tighter around her shoulders. The woman frowned and you lilted your head to the side as she fumbled with the jacket.

“No, wait Katie-“

She pulled out a small dark green velvet box, one eyebrow lifted. Kate’s eyes met yours and you sighed, your breath forming in the air in front of you. Kate was holding hers. You carefully pulled open the lid.

Inside was a white gold engagement ring with a round diamond in the center. Two smaller ones bordered the largest stone. You had spent days talking with Clint before Laura stepped in and went ring shopping with you. And then- then the ring sat in your coat pocket for a month, weighing it down, your thumb moving across the green box more than once in question.

“I was waiting for the perfect time.” You explained, blush against your cheeks. “But nothing seemed good enough. And, maybe I’m thinking too much about it, Katie, but you deserve the entire world and every time I thought about proposing it didn’t’ seem good enough.”

“Hey,” she said softly, placing her hand on your cheek, her thumb moved across and you relished the warmth of her touch. “Hey, you’re rambling, darling.”

“That’s my line.” You sniffed, shaking your head “So… What do you say? Will you marry me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, you have to woo me first.” She said in a sigh, “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

You grinned, pulling Kate in by the lapels of your jacket. There was a whisper of honey in the taste of her tongue, a quiet longing that seemed to fill the hole in your heart. Kate hummed, pulling back every so slightly.

“Oh! Right!” You fumbled, pulling the ring from the box carefully. It was weightless, but with a heaviness that countered the pouring rain. You ran your fingers over Kate’s, gently guiding them until you could slip the ring onto her hand.

“It’s beautiful,” Kate breathed, “and perfect.”