Chapter 25
Along the way, her music sessions with Cap and Scott turn into wider explorations of modern pop culture.
The compound’s private cinema becomes the setting for a crash course on every major TV series since the second world war. Natasha surprises them by tagging along and starts a new tradition in bringing the popcorn. Between all manner of rankings online and recommendations they get from left and right – including Jess’ specific brand of dark humor and Sun’s oddly niche telenovela recommendations, the number of shows on their to watch list is daunting. The Dick Van Dyke Show, The Lone Ranger, I love Lucy, Bewitched, they fly through the 50s and 60s and soon give up on reprimanding Scott whenever he talks too loudly (which is pretty much always). They struggle through Gunsmoke’s twenty seasons, watch a little bit of Cheers, a lot of Only Fools and Horses and all of Monty Python’s Flying Circus. M*A*S*H makes for a difficult watch for Cap and they decide to put Star Trek aside for now. Seinfeld is a big hit, followed by Friends, 30 Rock and the Big Bang Theory. They laugh out loud at Arrested Development, Parks and Recreation and The IT Crowd, bypass reality shows entirely, and argue over Fleabag. Cap’s somewhat confused by the mockumentary genre, blocks on any type of animation, crushes hard on Mad Men and falls in love with Friday Night Lights. Scott falls down the rabbit hole of Lost and Natasha develops an unhealthy obsession with Breaking Bad.
Alex, for her part, is reluctant at first. In a way, it feels too much like… like sister nights with Kara. Yet it’s different, too: the setting, for one, the company, they never watched older shows together and there’s a distinct lack of physical closeness, compared to how Kara and her would usually sit, glued to one another. She comes to savour these moments together. Plunged in darkness, in the screen’s glow, she makes out each one’s minute reactions to the stories unfolding on screen: how Scott shrinks back at the first inkling of suspense while Natasha leans forward, how Cap forgets to chew, so easily captivated.
By an unspoken agreement, she doesn’t spend those nights with Lena, goes back to her own room instead, coasting on the evening’s comradery. (Still, she finds herself reaching out for another body in the mornings, out of habit she supposes.) Lena meanwhile starts spending that time swimming laps in the pool, which leads Alex to realise just how much she’s into Lena’s sculpted shoulders and arms (come to think, if Maggie in a wife beater is any indication, maybe it’s a general thing of hers). The sex after these nights apart is phenomenal, slow, hungry. Lena’s in a playful bordering on teasing mood, while Alex feels nothing short of devoted.
The ethics panel is a disaster. They find the right people, manage to have all continents represented, swear them all to secrecy, that’s not the problem. The problem is who they put in charge: Wong. Half of the time he doesn’t show up to the scheduled sessions and the times he does, he doesn’t moderate the discussion at all. And leaving a dozen academics and thinkers without some kind of facilitation is, it turns out, a sure recipe for cacophony. So Natasha takes over from Wong, meaning Alex is now officially in charge of all things Avengers.
Cap discovers Instagram. It goes as well as one could expect. His daily post workout pics can’t be described as anything else but thirst traps, his followers disturbingly vocal in their appreciation. Cap’s vocabulary expands in strange new directions with poor Cassie having to translate modern thirst slang for him and her dad. Entire TikTok threads are now dedicated to people getting hot and bothered after scrolling through his account. (Alex agrees with Natasha: he likes the attention more than he lets on.)
Cap tries Tony Stark again, only this time with Lena (who inexplicably agrees to accompany him). Alex thinks it’s a terrible idea, but keeps that to herself. She’s proven right: they return without him. Except, two days later, a brand new Captain America shield is FedExed to the compound and a week later, Alex walks in on Lena deep in conversation with an unfamiliar woman’s voice.
“Alex, this is F.R.I.D.A.Y; F.R.I.D.A.Y, this is Alex.”
“Alexandra Danvers, Haigh” comes in an Irish accent.
Ugh… She turns, looking for the source of the sound: “Hi?”
“F.R.I.D.A.Y is Stark’s A.I. personal assistant” Lena explains. “She’s going to help us.”
“Oh.” Tony Stark? “That’s great! Thanks, I guess?”
“It’s my pleasure” the disembodied voice replies.
She turns to Lena, eyebrows raised: “Does that mean you and Stark have buried the hatchet?”
“So to speak.”
Meaning: not really. (To be continued.) Still: it would appear science and the titillation of untrodden ground has prompted the two to join forces, at least for the time being.
“What can I do for you, Alex?” Lena gets them back on track. Flashes from other (very different moments where Lena whispered a similar question. From the sinful gleam in her eyes, Lena’s not unaware of the parallel and of how much it’s affecting Alex.
She draws back up, Lena’s taste on her lips and the ghost feeling of her fingers on her scalp. And because she can’t resist: she stops, first at her navel, then at her chest. A lick, two, a nip with the barest hint of teeth. She can’t get enough of Lena’s body.
Lena gives her a light push: “They’re sensitive.”
She pouts and lets herself fall bonelessly to the side. “So F.R.I.D.A.Y, huh?”
They usually don’t talk shop in bed (they usually don’t talk much at all).
“Stark offered.”
“I don’t get it: he doesn’t come himself – second time he tells us to fuck off, in fact – but still sends us his A.I.?”
“One: it isn’t just any A.I. It is, I will admit – however reluctantly – a… somewhat powerful A.I.”
Oh how it must smart to praise Stark’s achievements in the field of artificial intelligence. “Two?”
“Two: it’s obviously a test. He wants to see how far we’ve gotten. He’ll revise his position, eventually. I’m sure of it.”
“Not too jealous Tony Stark got there first?”
Lena barks a surprised laugh. “Got where first, exactly?” She sits up and settles on top of Alex, thighs on each side and pins her arms down.
“An A.I assistant.”
“Oh Alex. Don’t you know? It’s not about how quick you are and rather about how powerful, how memorable the performance.” She gives a forceful push with her
Leave it to Lena to use sex as a metaphor for technological innovation. She fights Lena’s hold and grabs onto her waist, her curves just begging to be touched. Lena bends down to kiss her deeply, breasts pressing against Alex.
“Can we talk about something else – anything else, really – but Stark, please?”
Cap’s voted sexiest man alive by People magazine. They debate over Georgian takeout whether he should accept (he does) and console Scott by assuring him he’s a shoo-in for next year (he’s not). The response online is overwhelming. Cassie resigns as Cap’s social media manager and hands the reins over to one of Lena’s pilot A.I. programmes.
The ethics panel renders its first conclusion: it is adamant that whatever they do, erasing the past four years is not acceptable. The verdict is unanimous, the reasoning long: that’s at least one scenario they can now cross off. Feedback from the U.S administration on bringing back the disappeared is mixed. They want it to happen, but only if the Avengers can guarantee a 100% success rate, which they know not to be possible. Or, as Colonel Rhodes puts it: they want the success story for the positive PR it’ll generate, with none of the risk. They’re also paranoid about putting any of this in writing or in any recordable way, which means it’s a lot of frustrating back and forths for him.
The plan starts to take shape. And with it, the certainty: they’re going to need a bigger team.
Natasha flies off in the dead of night and returns with a sullen and bruised up Clint Barton. She stops attending movie night and doesn’t show up for their daily sparring, leaving Alex feeling suddenly idle. She spends those early days holed up in his room, only emerging to replenish the first aid kit, discard bloody bandages or get some food for the two of them. Alex understands, there’s closeness there, an authentic friendship beyond being teammates. She is not one bit jealous.
Bruce and Rocket fly to New Asgard. It’s Cap’s idea: they apparently have history with Thor and according to Valkyrie, history will be much needed. Considering what they return with, Alex’ not sure their mission can frankly be called a success. Thor’s… Thor’s a goddamn mess. There’s no better word for it. He’s been wearing the same pair of unwashed pyjamas since his arrival and judging by the smell, it’s not just the clothes that’d benefit from a thorough wash. He spends his days dozing off in drunken stupor, leaves a trail of empty beer cans all over the place and asks for a bloody mary whenever Alex is near (she’s got the nagging feeling he thinks she’s the help). That’s when he’s not shouting profanities while playing online games. A far cry from the superhero Alex had pictured. (She must admit though, that his knowledge of the reality stone – or the Aether, as he calls it – proves valuable once he sobers up enough.) They start by cutting him off from any form of alcohol, leaving him with his energy drinks. It’s not pretty, but it eventually does the trick.
“I killed the man, as you know.” He stands up in a drunken reenactment: “I swung and sunk Stormbreaker – it should have been Mjolnir, of course. Yes, it should have been Mjolnir… No offense to Stormbreaker. But well, Hela – that’s my sister, she is dead now, just like, well, everybody else, really – in her treacherous ways, destroyed Mjolnir. See, she had wielded Mjolnir, before me, but Mjolnir now belonged to me, so she had to destroy it. That was before she took control over Asgard and destroyed that too.”
“Here we go again” comes muttered from Rhodes. They exchange a look. They could do without one of Thor’s disjointed tangents (or god forbid another poem about Jane Foster).
Thor doesn’t come alone: someone named Valkyrie tags along, to smoothen the transition. A little rough around the edges, Valkyrie is a total badass. Actually: Valkyrie is freaking cool. Valkyrie is also, it turns out, an incorrigible flirt (she kind of reminds her of Sara that way). She shows up at Alex’ door in the middle of the night, a beer in hand.
“Valkyrie? Uh… Hi?” She hastily buttons her top back up.
Valkyrie leans against the wall with her usual swagger: “Alexandra Danvers.”
“Just Alex is fine.” She tousles her hair, trying to get it back into some kind of shape and hopes it’s not too obvious she was well on her way to her first orgasm of the evening before the intrusion.
…
“Were we supposed to… Do you… need anything? Can I help you in some way?”
“I sure hope so.” Valkyrie looks her up and down with a predatory glint: “I’m in the mood for some fun…” she takes a swig and cocks her head, “I was wondering whether you’d be too.”
Alex gulps: “Fun?” Does she have the right room? Scott could probably be convinced to crack open a boardgame…
“A certain type of fun…” She does something with her tongue and her cheek then, something that leaves no doubt as to what type of fun she’s referring to.
“Oh… Uh… Right… Uh…” This is a prank, must be. Someone must have put her up to this. But who? “I uh… I’ve got uhm... See, the thing is…” She looks back at Lena – who looks unperturbed, still in bed, out of Valkyrie’s line of sight – in panic, “I kind of have company?”
Valkyrie grins: “I was hoping you would. The more the merrier, no?”
…
Lena thankfully comes to her rescue and joins them, making her presence known: “Valkyrie.”
“Lena Luthor.”
(Alex doesn’t much like the appreciative glint in Valkyrie’s eyes.)
“What my wonderful girlfriend was surely trying to say before she turned into a speechless puddle, is that we are flattered by the offer. Sadly, we have to decline.”
“You sure?”
“Quite.”
“Shame. Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying. You guys have fun!” She departs with a wink and an “If you two change your mind, you know where to find me.”