Chapter Text
The interior of the Quinjet hums with its usual mechanical whir as Namor stands near one of the bulkheads, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone. He watches with surprised eyes as Shuri and Shaun enter, their light, carefree energy cutting through the controlled, rigid atmosphere he’s trying to maintain. They’re laughing, Shuri carrying what looks like the remnants of flowers.
Namor’s eyes go from the disheveled petals to the grins on their faces. His lips press into a thin line and his brow furrows as the scene unfolds before him. The mere sight of Shaun’s casual demeanor and the way Shuri smiles— too brightly, too easily —sets something in his chest to a burn. But what can he do?
Shuri catches sight of him, her grin fading ever so slightly as she waves. "Hey—Don’t tell me you were waiting up for us?"
Namor huffs. "Waiting implies I cared about your return time." His expression remains stony as his gaze flickers to Shaun. "I cannot sleep on these flying contraptions." His voice is as cold as the sea depths he calls home. "How was your… outing?"
"You ever try Korean barbecue? Life-changing."
Korean? He was talking to him about barbecue?
"We didn’t mean to be out so long," Shaun replies, bumping elbows with Shuri. "But it was nice to get away for a while. So, we had dinner, talked a lot, uh, we talked about everything. Life, the universe, hidden cities—oh, and even caught a street performance."
Namor’s gaze shifts to Shaun once more, just a brief, pointed look. Hidden cities. He bites his tongue, knowing this is neither the time nor place. Instead, he inhales deeply, controlling the fire simmering within him.
"Indeed," he mutters, his tone filled with the barest hint of disdain. "I hope you found the conversation… enlightening."
Shuri raises an eyebrow, sensing the unspoken frustration behind his words. "It’s fine, Namor," she says softly, placing a hand on his arm in a gentle gesture of reassurance. "We were just talking."
But Namor’s eyes never leave Shaun, who’s now leaning against the wall, looking about as relaxed as one could be in the presence of an irritated mutant. "You," Namor says, his voice steady but cold, "Do you understand the gravity of your company?"
Shaun blinks, glancing between Namor and Shuri. "Yeah, totally," he says with that same easygoing smile. "Shuri’s awesome. I get it."
Namor’s jaw tightens again. "That is not what I meant."
Snapping his fingers suddenly, Shaun leans into Shuri, grinning. "Holy shit! We almost forgot to send Katy—"
"The picture." Shuri nods, eagerly. "Let’s do it!"
"You mind?" Shaun takes out his cellphone and almost hands it to Namor. "Wait, do you know how to use this—nevermind."
Namor sighs, and the sound that escapes him is half a groan as he watches the two come together. Their faces press together cheek-to-cheek as Shaun raises his phone above them.
A flash goes off. "Wow," Shaun says, studying the picture. "This is actually really good lighting." He adjusts the angle and— flash! —takes another photo. "Anyway," he continues, suddenly. "We’re just people, sometimes we need to take a break, right? I mean, you’ve got to see the world outside of all the… y’know, bullshit." He chuckles nervously but his smile doesn’t falter.
"He’s right," Shuri adds. "Plus, it’s good for morale! You know how it goes."
Another flash.
And another.
The sound of their laughter as they examine the photos rings in Namor’s ears. He stares at Shaun. He regards the man before him, the surface-dweller who has somehow managed to not only accompany Shuri but seemingly charm her as well.
"Morale? Do you believe indulging in trivialities will strengthen your resolve when true challenges arise?"
Shuri steps in, her tone firm but laced with humor. She meets Namor’s gaze evenly. "I do! And we are allowed to have a life outside of responsibilities. We all are."
"Even you—" Shaun interjects with a grin
Namor glares at Shaun, who quickly stops smiling.
"Very well," he says, "I suppose I will leave you both to… whatever remains of the evening."
"Great," Shuri says, turning to Shaun and offering a hug that he quickly accepts. "Thanks again for the flowers. We’ll catch up later, okay?"
"Yep! Totally. So… I’ll just, uh, head over there then." Shaun gestures vaguely toward the back of the Quinjet, clearly unsure where to escape to but very certain he needs to get away from Namor’s line of sight.
He slides along the wall, feet shuffling him towards the hall.
Shuri watches him retreat, then glances toward Namor. "You didn’t have to scare him off, you know."
"I was merely ensuring his understanding of the situation."
"The situation?"
"Yes," Namor says, "You could have told me about this…" his voice is low and edged with frustration.
Shuri sighs. "Told you what?"
Namor watches as Shuri attempts to cross her arms, but the wilted bouquet in her hand smacks her square in the face. She freezes for a moment, blinking in surprise, before quickly resigning herself to placing her fists on her hips, her expression a mix of embarrassment and indignation.
The controlled calm in Namor’s demeanor cracks, and despite himself, a soft, brief chuckle escapes. His eyes linger with amusement as he glances toward the direction where Shaun had disappeared moments earlier.
"Do you not see how he clings to you?"
Shuri arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Namor," she begins, her tone gentle but firm, "It’s called getting to know people. You might want to try it sometime and make some friends."
"Friends," he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like something distasteful, as though the very idea of it is alien and unpleasant to him.
Shuri doesn’t miss a beat. "If we’re allying ourselves together, why not be friendly ?" she counters, attempting to cross her arms again, but stops short, remembering the flowers. She glances at them with a sigh of resignation and simply lets her arms hang at her sides, a smirk tugging at her lips.
A light scoff escapes Namor. "Is this what you consider friendship? The exchanging of wilted foliage and trivial conversation?"
Biting back a smile, Shuri shakes her head.
"I know all I need to know." Namor’s gaze narrows slightly. "You find common ground with one who does not understand your world. He treats you as though you are no different from him."
"And I like that," Shuri counters, clearly enjoying the exchange now. "I enjoy being treated like a person sometimes, not a queen, not the Black Panther. Just… Shuri."
When she says her name it strikes a nerve in Namor, though he does his best not to show it. He steps forward, his voice dipping lower, almost pleading. "And you believe he can understand the weight of who you are? The burden you carry?"
Shuri doesn’t flinch, her expression softening as she shakes her head with a small, knowing smile. "Maybe he doesn’t need to understand all of it. Sometimes, I just need a break. And Shaun… he’s fun. He makes me laugh, and I like that."
There’s a pause, a beat where the air between them hums with unspoken words. Namor’s gaze sharpens, but not out of anger this time—more of a quiet, reluctant acceptance. He’s still struggling to comprehend how someone like Shaun could provide the kind of companionship Shuri values.
"I see," he finally says, his voice softening just a fraction. "But I fear you may underestimate the complexities of your position. Your decisions, your alliances—" He hesitates, the words heavy with meaning. "They carry consequences, Shuri."
"Not everything is a battle or a strategy. Sometimes… sometimes it’s just life." Shuri tilts her head, watching him carefully. "Sometimes it’s just two people, eating barbecue, talking about… I don’t know, street performers and weird city sights. And then it’s a global crisis."
"You care for him," Namor says after a long pause, the words coming out slower than usual, like he’s still coming to terms with them.
"Well, I’m certainly not hanging out with him because of his deep understanding of Wakandan geopolitics." She laughs, watching Namor wrestle with the idea. "Yeah, I care about him, we’re definitely closer now."
"I understand."
"You sure about that?" Shuri teases, "Because it sounds to me like you might be a little jealous."
Namor’s expression hardens, though there’s the faintest hint of defensiveness in his eyes. "Jealousy," he says, his voice even, "is beneath me."
"Right." She chuckles, shifting her stance. "Then stop worrying. I think you’ll find Shaun’s intentions are more about surviving than anything else. He’s harmless."
"Harmless is often a mask worn by those with ulterior motives."
Shuri raises the wilted bouquet in a mock toast. "Then we’ll keep an eye on him, just in case he decides to weaponize this." She pauses. "Or, you know, offer you a flower."
Namor, for a split second, looks like he’s about to say something sharp, but then—another sigh, barely audible. "You test my patience," he murmurs.
"I know," Shuri replies with a grin. "But you make it too easy."
He frowns, clearly not reassured. Again, his gaze drifts toward the back of the Quinjet where Shaun had disappeared and then he spots—Goose.
The cat—or flerken, as he’s been told—lurks near a console in the corner, its orange fur catching the dim light, and its large, unblinking eyes fix on Namor with an unnerving calm.
Namor, ever composed, gives Shuri a curt nod, he turns bumping her shoulder causing her to drop her flowers. He retreats toward the opposite hall of the Quinjet, his strides long and deliberate.
"Uh?" Shuri’s voice echoes behind him. "Goodnight to you too!
Her faint laughter mingles with the purring from Goose. The sounds follow him as he leaves, but Namor doesn’t look back.