S’mores and Forever Yours

“So it’s cracker, chocolate, marshmallow, cracker?” 

“No Verena! It’s cracker, marshmallow, then chocolate, cracker,” giggles Monica as she pops the last squares of a Hershey’s bar into her mouth while opening a new pack of graham crackers.

Carol laughs while toasting a new marshmallow, “Lieutenant, let up, the order isn’t gonna affect anything as long as all the pieces are there.”

“It makes all the difference Auntie Carol! It’s like milk before cereal or cereal before milk, one is obviously better than the other!”

“If you say so,” Carol says before her stick is abruptly pulled out of the flame by Yon-Rogg. Looking at him from her place nestled under his arm, she playfully fumes, “hey, what the hell?”

“You’re burning your marshmallow, look it’s practically scorched.”

“I know that’s how I like it,” peeling off the burnt, bubbly outside and dropping it into her mouth with a grin. 

“Of course it is,” he mumbles before observing his own marshmallow toasting. 

“That has to be the most perfectly toasted marshmallow I’ve ever seen” Maria staggers, “isn’t that like the first s’mores he’s ever made? How is he doing that?”

“Well, he has a reference,” Carols holds up the graham cracker box, “and also an ungodly amount of patience.”

“Something you are sorely lacking in,” Yon jests cheekily before Carol snatches the oh so perfect marshmallow from its place on top of a graham cracker and eats it.

She manages to get out between munches “good but definitely doesn’t hold a candle to my burnt ones!”

“Vixen,” he mutters dragging her deeper under his arm and subtlety nuzzling her hair, sending Carol into another bout of giggles.

“Such a paradox to watch,” Talos mumbles slightly bewildered.

“Oh stop it,” Soren chuckles with a gentle, unexpected toss of a bag of marshmallows right to his face.

Maria settles in a chair closer to the couples, allowing the two girls to eat their s’mores and talk about whatever two little girls from two different planets talk about.“So, when are y’all heading back out there?”

“Probably the day after tomorrow? I haven’t been looking at the comms much, but from what I did catch, it looks like there’s another squabble on Z-91. We’ll probably bop up there just to make sure nothing gets too crazy,” Carol states as she snuggles deeper into Yon’s embrace, adjusting the blankets to cover her bare toes and legs against the nipping mosquitoes and chilly spring-night air.

“Same goes for us. We have to get back to New Skrullos with enough time to prepare for the Mid-Spring Solstice,” Soren adds placing her head on her husband’s shoulder.

“Duty calls,” Maria smirks, raising her glass.

“You know it,” Carol responds as the group completes an impromptu cheers. 

“Auntie Carol, are you and Yon-Rogg married?”

Nearly simultaneously, all five of their heads jerk to look at Monica, hands on her hips with a sassy challenging demeanor.

“And what has you asking that?” Maria asks, handing it right back to her like only a mother can.

“Well, Verena and I were talking about the Spring Festival back on New Skrullos-“

“It marks the common period of initiating courtships, betrothals, and marriages,” Soren interjects quickly, trying to add context for the odd outburst.

“And she was telling me all about the ceremonies and the dresses and the flowers and the food and stuff,” Monica rambles on, “and that got me thinking if you guys are married?”

“Well - it’s- it’s uh, complicated,” Carol begins disjointedly, her eyes darting between Yon and Monica, an uncharacteristic violet hue gracing her cheeks and progressively deepening.

“You mean the Kree blood bond thing? I get that but-“

“Excuse me, you ’get that?’ How do you even know about that?!” Carol asks back frantically and perplexed, immediately looking to Maria.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t have any alien heritage books lying around except maybe a paperback version of ET,” her hands up in self defense.

“I read it on Verena’s Holopad,” Monica responds innocently while pointing to the young Skrull, a meek sound leaving the girl’s mouth at being sold out.

“And you did that right? With the whole….” Monica gestures to her arms, obviously referencing the transfusion. The procedure had never been a secret to her, it explained the whole transformation with the most ease, but Carol had certainly never thought it would come back to bite her in the ass like this. 

“Yes, informally,” Yon finally pipes in, taking the pressure off Carol who was utterly gobsmacked with the whole situation. She really was Lieutenant Trouble wasn’t she?

“Okay, so under ‘Kree law’” Monica air-quotes , “you’re married.”

“Yes,” Yon carefully concedes.

“But you haven’t had a ‘ceremony,’ right?”

“No, we haven’t.”

“So to society, you wouldn’t be married?”

“I guess not?” 

“I’m sorry - how far into this book did you get exactly?” Carol interrupts.

“Not important,” Monica curtly responds, “and you guys love each other and wanna be with each other and all that stuff right?”

“Monica!” Maria calls with horror while Talos laughs at the utter embarrassment of the two Kree (or Kree and Kree-Human-Photon being? Placing Carol into a box was always difficult in every regard) as Soren tries to desperately smoother his echoing, belly laughs with a humorous grin of her own.

Monica was not (nor was she ever) dazed, “what? You guys do, right?”

Carol and Yon-Rogg glance at each other, trying to read each other’s thoughts only with their eyes, deep brown irises clashing with honey gold. To most, Yon-Rogg probably looked cool, calm, absolutely collected sitting in front of the dying embers in the makeshift fire pit, but Carol knew better. His intake of breath was slightly sharper, the fingers of his right hand twitched against his thigh, pupils dilated by a fraction of a centimeter: he was nervous or, at the very least, uncomfortable. It was understandable of course. The Kree were many (in Carol’s humble opinion, mostly negative) things: fierce warriors, zealots, domineering imperialists. It was a miracle that the words sensitive or empathetic even existed in the Kree language. Yon-Rogg, although being the poster boy for the empire, had always been somewhat different. Yes, for the cause, he could be calculated and cold. Nonetheless, he had a heart. It was what made him teach the young cadets with a gentle hand rather than scarring intimidation, what made him run with Carol and train at his childhood gym at the wee hours of the mornings, what brought him back to her and away from the Supreme Intelligence. After becoming a traitor to the Kree, Yon had to relearn some of the social norms that creatures of the rest galaxy universally practiced and understood: conversations about your feelings, nonverbal means of communication like a high-five or a handshake, even unconfined laughing during casual conversation. Public displays of affection were particularly difficult to normalize. Overall, in private it wasn’t really a problem between them; perhaps surprising to most, Yon was attentive, thoughtful, and though Carol would never mutter the words into the open air, sweet . The physical hurdles had actually been easy to overcome, he was a man of action after all. Expressing feelings not so much. From its very inception, the idea of separating the person, the warrior, from emotion was ingrained into the fiber of Kree culture. To throw away what is practically the fundamental philosophy of his people was no easy feat, but he was making strides everyday to separate himself from the abuses he suffered at the hands of that damn AI. And Carol never wavered in her support of him, always patient (even if it was very uncharacteristic of her) and unjudging. She certainly wouldn’t waver now, leaving Yon to what she was certain were the wolves to him. 

“Yes,” Carol responds briskly, tenderly taking his hand in hers, the action hidden due to the night sky wrapping around it like a cloak of invisibility. “I think we do,” Carol’s meeting Yon’s gaze meekly, her cheeks dusting a delicate lavender shade. He gives her the smallest smile and nod of his head in agreement. 

“So let’s have a wedding!” Monica squeals ecstatically, jumping from her seat and clapping her hands together.

Carol snorts, “okay, Lieutenant, where were you thinking? The rec center?  The Catholic Church where you go for Easter mass?”

“Don’t be silly, Auntie Carol! We’d have it here,” gesturing widely with her short arms to the space around her.

“What in the backyard? Were you thinking about asking your mother ‘bout doing that, Miss Wedding Planner Extraordinaire?” Maria pokes with her hands on her hips.

“Eventually,” the girl responds sheepishly, “I was thinkin’ in the garden cause you know, all the flowers bloomed and stuff. Besides, this is my last chance to be a flower girl. Aunt Lauren and Jackie both picked Liz for their weddings because they thought I was too big.”

“Ooo, I want to be a flower girl too!” Verena adds on in support.

“Do you even know what that is?” Soren deadpans back. 

“Not exactly, but it sounds fun. Being the girl of flowers,” Verena gush’s, eyes glimmering. 

“Flower power,” Maria mumbles taking a sip of her beer.

“Why not?” Yon-Rogg states suddenly.

“Wait, are you serious?” Carols asks while eyeing him suspiciously.

“We can’t really deny two young girls their last opportunity at being these famous ‘flower girls’ can we now?” He smirks. 

“I guess not,” Carol smiles, “but before we make any plans, I’m asking the boss over there. I know better than to make plans over Ma’s head.”

“Oh what the hell, sure. Wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen out here, ‘specially considering the shed,” Maria muttering the last part under her breath. “Plus, maybe I wanna be a maid of honor,” she adds on, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yes!” Monica cries out happily, pumping her fist in the air. She runs over to Carol swiftly, grabbing her hands and pulling her away from Yon. 

“And where do you think you're dragging me off to? The gallows?”

“No, it’s the night before the wedding and you guys can’t see each other! It’s bad luck and we’re already off to a bad start. We can only hope that because you’re aliens the rules can be bent a little!”

To appease Monica, Carol agreed to spend the night way from Yon and their guest room. Instead, they had a sleepover in Maria’s bedroom. They had eaten junk food, watched movies all night (admittingly, they had rewatched Clueless several times), and done manicures and pedicures on each other for the “big day.” Monica had insisted on doing her nails red, Maria’s blue, and Carol’s gold in tribute to the famous Captain Marvel suit. Carol wasn’t exactly sure when she passed out on the quilts and pillows tossed on the floor, somewhere between her third pack of Dunk-a-Roos and when Ellie gets cornered by a dinosaur in Jurassic Park, but she knew it had been late. 

“Wake up!” Monica yells, hopping onto Carol and providing her a startling wake up call.

“I’m up, I’m up,” she yawns as she stretches out the kinks in her neck from her snooze on the hard floor. “What time is it?”

“11:30, Ma figured that since it’s your special day, we should let you sleep and not bother you with our preppin’.”

“Your bridal party has arrived,” Maria hums as she carries a loaded tray, “I brought the goods.”

“You’re the best,” Carol praises as she plucks a mug of coffee and a buttered biscuit from Maria’s bounty.

“Come on Lucky Lady, we gotta doll you up,” Maria guiding her to the wood vanity at the front of her room. 

“I am in your hands, ladies,” dropping herself onto the padded bench.

Monica takes a brush from the surface, holding it to her chin in contemplation. She circles Carol in deep concentration, “I’m think a half braided crown with some curls annnnnnddddddddd a touch of mascara, a dash of blush, a hint of lipstick, and the smallllllesssssttttt dab of brown shadow.” 

“Are you a Lieutenant or a Hollywood Stylist?” Carol chuckles.

“One’s my day job, one’s my side hustle,” Monica corrects as begins brushing her golden tresses.

“You’re too young to have a side hustle child,’ Maria sighs blending a soft brown shade onto Carol lids.

Monica begins to plait the upper half of Carol’s hair, “No one is too young to have a side hustle mom.”

“Mhmm,” Maria draws, giving the dark blonde lashes a layer of jet black mascara. 

A swipe of blush and lipstick later, plus some soft curls which Maria had done (“Ma, I’m on hair!” “If you think I trust you with 400 degree hot piece of metal, you got another thing coming!”), they turned to raiding Maria’s closet for something that could be considered remotely bridal. Eventually, the trio had settled on a silvery baby blue , floor-length slip dress. If you squinted, you might think it’s white and it was the longest, most formal option. 

“But it has to be white,” Monica whines as they wait for Carol to change outside the bathroom.

“Oh hush, we’ll call it her something blue and borrowed .”

“That reminds me! Soren and Verena made her something new and I have her something old, I’ll be right back,” Monica sprints out of the room and clunks down the steps.

“Don’t you be skipping steps there missy! You don’t need to be taking a tumble today,” Maria calls after her daredevil daughter. 

Only moments later, Carol hesitantly steps out of the bathroom. “So, whatcha’ think?”

Sure it may not be the normal white princess gown, beaded with crystals and pearls, detailed in delicate, fine lace and maybe there was no phantomly veil, but something about the way her best friend, her sister , choked Maria’s throat up. The dress looked like it was tailor made for her, the silk dripping down every curve of her body before just barely grazing the floor. The spaghetti-strap and drooping cowl neckline accentuated her strong shoulders. Her face held an out of character softness: her doe brown eyes caressed by the brown shadow, her soft waved wispies that had escaped the braid framed her face like a portrait. No, Carol did not look like the average bride. But Carol had never really been average to begin with. 

“It’s not fair, I bought that for myself and somehow it looks like it was made for you,” Maria weakly jokes with a gentle smile, her eyes slightly glassy.

“Take it as pay back for when you stole my signature LBD during the academy.”

Maria hums in agreement, coming face-to-face with Carol. Taking her by her shoulders, she gets one more good look at Carol whose breath hitches before taking her into her arms. 

“You look good Car,” Maria whispers, “he’s perfect for you. Weirdly, foreignly, bizarrely perfect for you.” Carol can only tearfully chuckle in response as she languidly pulls away.

“You know, I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle. What do you say, Photon? Can you guide the Avenger through battle one more time?”

“‘Course, I’d never leave my ace with a blind spot.”

Carol reaches between them and takes Maria’s hand into her own, a few stray tears escaping her eyes. “I love you, Mar.”

“I love you too,” giving her hand a warm squeeze while using her other to brush away the wet spots on the slopes of her cheeks. 

“We’re backkkkkkkkk,” Monica lyrically calls as she storms into the room, hand-in-hand it’s Verena, Soren tailing closely behind. The girls stop once they finally get a glimpse of Carol, eyes trained on her in awe.

Once the spell is broken, Monica runs up to the blushing bride, grabbing onto her middle. “Oh Auntie Carol, you look amazing! Like you came right off the red carpet!”

“Thanks Lieutenant,” she coos back while giving her a gentle squeeze. 

“You look beautiful, Carol,” Verena admires timidly, lingering behind with her mother. 

Carol lifts her other arm, “come her, kid.” Verena breaks out into a megawatt grin, running to her without needing any further persuasion. 

“You truly look lovely,” Soren soothed, placing a compassionate hand to the side of her face. 

Carol places her palm over the Skrull’s, “thank you, Soren.”

“We have some things for you!” Monica cheers as she pulls away, Verena nodding along.

Monica digs into the pocket of her jeans, fishing round for something. When her fingertips graze the cool metal she’s searching for, she breaks out into a brilliant smile. She takes it into her closed hand, holding her arm out to Carol. “Your something old,” she proudly announces. 

As Monica retracts her fingers from the object, it catches the light and reflects a blinding gold shimmer. When Carol inches closer to her palm, she feels her breath catch in her throat, perhaps stopped by her heart jumping into it. It was a tiny, golden oak leaf resting in her soft hand.

“Your major insignia!” Monica exclaimed, “It was in your box, I’ve been takin’ care of it really well for you like I said.”

The pin was so small, it’s presence must have slipped through the cracks when she had looked through the bin so long ago.

“It looks as good as the day I got it, better even,” Carol whispers wistfully, caressing the cool metal, feeling the ridges of the leaf’s veins.

“I’ve been polishing it two times a week ever since you first went missing. Since you came back, I’ve upped it to three!” Monica beams. 

Carol can feel her lungs constrict, her heart heavy with emotion. She grazes the girl’s cheeks with fluid fingertips before placing loving hands on the surfaces. “You’re so sweet, kiddo,” Carol tightly rasps. She brings the girls face to her own, delicately kissing her forehead. “I love you so much,” she mutters into the girls skin.

Monica closes her eyes under the affection, “I love you so much too, Auntie Carol.”

After a minute, Monica pins it right below one of her thin dress straps before thrusting Verena forward. 

“Verena and Soren handled your something new.”

The young girl turns to her mother who hands her a flower crown. She takes it into her own hands, careful to not squish or crush any of the delicate petals.

“It’s a traditional Skrull Spring Crown, or at least as traditional as we could get with Terran flowers,” Verena blushes bashfully.

Soren steps forward, “each flower color represents a different value one hopes to bring into their marriage: red for passion and strength, yellow for loyalty and happiness. pink for harmony and affection.”

“Mama immortalized it in her travel lab on the ship, so it’s a sort of momento!” Verena cheerifully elaborates. 

“It’s wonderful, thank you,” Carol says sincerely placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder while giving her mother a smile and nod. “Would you put it on for me?”

Verena demurely grins with a slight nod of her head. Carol bends down to her level as Verena goes onto her tippy-toes, she adroitly slides the arrangement onto her head.

“Perfect!” 

“Now that I’m all done, I think my flower girls need to get to primping don’t ‘cha think?” Carol smirks.

“Okay, I did what you said and left Yon-Rogg and Talos under the flower arbor,” Soren states dutifully to Maria. 

“I’m curious,” Carol cuts in while in the mist of fluffing the bow on Monica’s yellow sundress and smoothing the wrinkles on Verena’s traditional Skrull wrap-tunic dress, “what’d you end up wrangling him into?”

“What are you, the Fashion Police now?” Maria chuckles.

“Just a Terran blouse and slacks,” Soren happily supplies as she straightens Monica’s headband.

“As long as it’s not armor or his PJs,” Carol murmurs to herself. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road folks!” Maria claps.

Soren went out first, but not before handing Monica and Verena their own individual basket of either red rose or lilac petals and Carol a corresponding bouquet.

After a few beats, Carol and Maria touched the girls on their shoulders. They smiled at each other before stepping out the door, a spring and a hop in their step. 

“You ready?” Maria asks when they’re alone standing in front of the patio door. 

“Higher, further, faster baby.”

Yon-Rogg can’t really say he had ever envisioned himself getting married. His family had tried to arrange a political engagement with the House of Njoh, a family of rare ore miners. He had vehemently denied the betrothal, refusing to be a pawn in his family’s war for influence. Then he joined Starforce and rose through the ranks faster than any other Kree, not to mention he did so even with the deep-rooted prejudice against pink-skins, and the thought just faded from his mind. His blind devotion to his people and the Supreme Intelligence gave him all the fulfillment and contempt he thought he could ever need. He never thought one person could give him so much purpose and happiness that it could outweigh the back-handed praise of the SI.

Then Carol came crashing into his life, literally. 

From day one, she was defiant, eccentric, and everything he had been taught was what made races other than the Kree inferior. Yet something about her made his heart race, his breath quicken, made him do things he would never do otherwise: run aimlessly in the early hours of the morning, bring her to his childhood gym, break his own rules. Her laugh and smile was infectious, just a hint of her grin and he’d break out into one of his own, completely uncharacteristic of himself. He couldn’t help it, she just made him a different man. It took him time to realize that she actually made him a better man. The Supreme Intelligence was wrong; his feelings for her did not blind him, they made him see . The preaching of the SI was not for the greater good, the good of all Kree. It was for the good of some Kree, a very select, elite few of zealots and destructive radicals.The Supremor had given him the affection and praise he had never had yet always craved and used it to bend him to its will. Carol had given it to him with the expectation of nothing in return, except maybe his company. She made him feel like he mattered, like his value laid in who he was rather than what he could be.

With all that in mind, he knew when he saw Carol step out onto the patio, her arm interlocked around Maria’s, he had been utterly wrong all those years ago, before her.

The sun’s rays caught her hair giving her a sort of halo and her skin a porcelain-like sheen. Though her body is strong and poised, probably even intimidating to some, her face was delicate and loving, a slight glimmer to her gaze and a hint of a smile on her rosy lips.You would have thought she was floating if her bare feet and toes didn’t occasionally peak out from the hem of her dress. She looked ethereal, other worldly, like a goddess.

“You’re lucky, Kree,” Talos leans over and whispers to him.

Yon’s throat is constricted and he can only rasp “I know.”

It feels like eons, but somehow a fraction of a second, for her to reach him, her arm leaving Maria’s, passing her the bouquet before taking his hands in her own. Talos clears his throat before starting.

“We are gathered here today to stand witness to the tethering of two warriors, the intertwining of two souls, the declaration of devotion between Carol Danvers and Yon-Rogg.”

Yon-Rogg instantly recognizes the words from the several Skrull weddings Carol and he had attended on New Skrullos. He can hear the familiar beats of progression in the speech, the importance of love in the universe and the strength of the vows being taken, but it all just sounds like noise to him. All his brain can register is her, her eyes, her smile, her smaller, softer hand squeezing his larger, rougher one. He can almost hear the words the Supreme Intelligence had taunted him with.

‘She’s made you weak.’

She made him strong.

‘She corrupted you, destroyed the perfect commander.’

She set him free.

‘You are nothing! Who could ever love a failure like you?’

She could. She did. She does.

His ears perk when he hears his cue for the vows.

“Do you, Yon-Rogg of Hala, take Carol Susan Jane Danvers to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her? To follow her into the unknown of the great expanse that is our universe? To stand by her no matter what enemies and adversities you both may face? Do you vow to stay by her side until you are both scattered amongst the stars?”

“I do,” his eyes never leaving hers.

“And do you, Carol Susan Jane Danvers of Terra-“

“Earth!” Monica corrects.

“Of course, my mistake,” Talos replies honestly, “do you, Carol Susan Jane Danvers of Earth , take Yon-Rogg to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him? To follow him into the unknown of the great expanse that is our universe? To stand by him no matter what enemies and adversities you both may face? Do you vow to stay by his side until you are both scattered amongst the stars?”

“I do,” she beams.

“Then with the authority granted to me by the Skrull Republic and….” quickly glancing down to his holopad, “the Universal Marriage Officiant Ordination of the Holoweb-“

“I’m sorry, did you just say you got ordained on the Holoweb ?” Carol interrupts, baffled. 

“Well, you two aren’t exactly Skrull citizens so unless you’d like your marriage to be a sham-“

“No, no. I just wanted to clarify, please carry on,” Carol permits smugly. 

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Carol tossing Talos an eye roll at his hyperbolized offense,” with the authority granted to me by the Skrull Republic and the Universal Marriage Officiant Ordination of the Holoweb, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now present yourselves as a united pair.” 

Carol had expected a chaste peck, something exaggerated to appease the greedy crowd in front of them. She certainly hadn’t expected him to really kiss her. Her lips are tender and soft on hers, his gentle hands coming to hold her waist, pulling her closer to him. Her hands creep up to his face to deepen the kiss just slightly. They break away when their lungs demand oxygen, blinking hazily and grinning dumbly at each other. Their bubble is popped however when they feel small, hard pelts hitting their torsos and shoulders. 

“You’re married!” Monica shrieks ecstatically, her hands still in the air from her unceremonious toss.

“Is this,” Carol asks while grabbing one of the pieces in her hair, looking at it curiously, “rice?”

Monica nods vehemently at the question, Carol laughing at her response while brushing some of the grains off Yon’s shoulder.