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Chapter Text

Earth – Designation Unknown – TV LAND

"Buffy! Your show is on."

Buffy grabbed the popcorn as she walked to the den. "Young Avengers! Yay!"

Giles heaved one of those long-suffering sighs that she thought only the British could do. Or maybe it was just Giles. "Don't even pretend you don't like it," she said, flopping next to him on the couch. "You want to know as much as I do whether Billy and Teddy kiss and make up before defeating Miss America and The Evil Hawkeye."

She laughed as Giles took a mouthful of popcorn to avoid answering. They relaxed against each other, concentrating on Billy groveling and Teddy insisting that they take care of the bad guys before talking about their relationship.

Then the show cut to Miss America and Hawkeye arguing about how to take down their former teammates and Kate ended the argument by grabbing America and kissing her.

"Finally! The UST between those two was getting ridiculous."

"What in the blazes is UST?"

"You know. Unresolved Sexual Tension. Like we had for so many years."

"We did?"

"Duh, Giles. Keep up."

"And we've resolved it now?"

"Obviously." Buffy put the bowl on the table and turned to him, inching closer. She liked the way he always shied away a little bit, as if wanting to make sure she really wanted this, making her move into his space before he finally cupped her neck and pressed up against her. "Unless you'd like to resolve it again," she murmured against his lips.

"What about your show?"

"It's cool. I TIVO'd it."

 

Chapter Text

"You remember when she first stepped into our gym?" Jess asked.

"Sure." Carol remembered as if it were yesterday, the pretty, rich girl with the diamond ear rings and Louis Vuitton sunglasses walking into their boxing gym on the wrong side of Bed-Stuy. "I didn't think she'd ever come back."

"I thought she'd have to because her car got stolen while she was training."

"And now she's fighting for the title. Your little Kate against my favourite."

Carol and Jess were ringside at the championship fight, and both fighters started in their gym. America Chavez, wearing red, white and blue, had started training with them at fourteen, looking to work out some aggression. Kate Bishop came in when she was eighteen. She was looking for self-defense lessons and got a recommendation from her archery instructor. Then she decided she liked boxing better than archery.

They were both favorites at the gym and brilliant at the craft. Despite both of them now having professional coaches, Jess and Carol still considered them theirs.

"You're going down, Princess."

"Bite me."

But they hated each other. Had at first sight.

"So what are you willing to bet that America actually will bite Kate?" Jess asked.

"What? Nothing! America has more professionalism than that… I hope."

The two girls were in the middle of the ring, the referee standing between them.

"Then what are we betting on?"

"Who wins, of course!"

"And the terms?"

"If Kate wins, you take me to dinner at that Korean-style barbecue place I like."

Jess scrunched her face up, but nodded. "Okay, and if America wins, you do that thing I like."

Carol grinned and raised her eyebrows. "That thing?" When Jess nodded Carol gave her a quick kiss. "Deal."

"I want a good, clean, fight," the ref was saying. Carol was just settling back to watch when America reached her glove-covered hands towards Kate's face.

"Oh, God, she is going to bite."

But, no. One big glove behind Kate's ear tilted her head and then they were kissing. In the ring. In front of everyone, including a pay-per-view audience. Before the fight for the International Boxing Association World Welterweight Championship.

Kate's purple gloves moved to the small of America's back and pulled America in closer, until their legs were tangled and their torsos plastered against one another.

"Well, that was unexpected."

Carol could barely hear Jess over the noise of the crowd cheering. She raised her voice to reply. "Not really. It's how we got together, after all."

Carol got so lost in the feel of Jess' lips on hers that she missed the start of the match.

Chapter Text

Kate walked into the small kitchen of their safe house before stopping and turning around again.

"Really, guys? You're meant to be making breakfast."

She heard Coulson chuckle, so figured that it was now safe to enter.

"You know," Clint said as he put a plate of baked beans on the table for her, "as a member of the young, hip generation, you should be supportive of a couple of old gay guys kissing."

"It's like seeing my mothers sucking face," America said as she walked into the kitchen.

"Thank you. America knows what I mean."

America sat down next to her and Kate watched her lips twist at the food in front of her. "Baked beans again?"

"There are limited choices, Ms. Chavez." Coulson took a determined breath in before setting fork to plate. "So I suggest you dig in."

"I wonder if the guys out there are enjoying brains more than we're enjoying baked beans."

"Really, Clint? At the breakfast table?"

Coulson's glare held a little too much fondness to be effective, but Kate couldn't fault him for that; when you could lose your lover before nightfall, being angry was the last thing you wanted to do. If she strained her ears, she could hear them thumping at the door.

Zombies.

They were supposed to be confined to horror movies.

She tuned back into the conversation to hear Clint telling America that if she didn't like baked beans then she could cook tomorrow and thankfully for the tempers beginning to flare, Fury walked in the door, the Black Widow close behind him and Lucky pulling up the rear.

"Alright, listen up, people."

Kate threaded her fingers through Lucky's fur as she watched Fury's good eye glare around the room.

"We have a plan. Widow?"

"Agent 19 and Beast are still in New York, barricaded in Dr. Strange's building. They think they can manage a cure, but they need this," she held up a vial of blood, "as well as a super-powered human to test it on."

"They have Beast," Hawkeye said.

"He's a mutant. It's different."

"Can I ask what's in the vial?"

"Steve Rogers' blood. They believe he's our patient zero, so they hope his blood holds the key to the cure. As most people here are just normal humans –"

"Er, extraordinary humans, thank you very much," Kate interrupted. She high-fived the hand Clint held up.

"Non-super-powered humans." Widow rolled her eyes as she made the correction. "Because only America and I can be the testers for this cure, we have to make it. Unfortunately, we have no transport besides the beat up campervan in the driveway. Here's the plan."

***

They abandoned the van when they reached the George Washington Bridge. Kate had been expecting swarms, but obviously the pickings for food were slim on the bridge and apart from zombies that had been trapped in their cars when they died, it was deserted.

Kate was at the rear of the group, arrow nocked, with Clint taking lead. America walked just a few steps in front of her, fists clenched. Kate knew she hated feeling so helpless; zombie hunting was really a profession involving ranged weapons, and everyone else in their group was more proficient at that than America.

"At least I've got a good view from back here," she said, hoping it was only loud enough for America to hear. No such luck.

"Why, whatever do you mean, Ms. Bishop?" Clint asked.

"Oh, you know. The city rising up in the frame of the bridge. If only I had a camera." In reality, the city was burning and the smell wafting across the Hudson would have been enough to make her retch if she hadn't gotten used to it three days ago. But America was still with her, after everything they'd been through, good times and zombiepocalypse, America was there. She'd read a book about being happy during their enforced quarantine and it said gratitude was important, so every day she'd be thankful that America was still with her.

"Perhaps you could concentrate on getting across this bridge safely, Ms. Bishop," Coulson said.

"Anything that was going to attack would go for you guys first."

She watched as America turned her head, hand to her lips to blow a kiss. Then her eyes widened. "Kate! Behind you!"

Kate felt cold fingers on her ankle and teeth sinking into her calf. It was a business woman, the bottom half of her body still under a car. She must have been hibernating until food wandered past; it took until the last of their convoy – Kate – for her to drag herself close enough to bite.

As she watched, an arrow went through the woman's skull, but it was too late. She could already feel the numbness creeping up her leg.

She looked into America's eyes. "Run. America, you have to run."

"No." America took a step towards her and Kate stepped back. "Not without you, Princess."

Kate felt a car against her back, then America was there, right in front of her. She could hear the others yelling, but couldn't hear anything except the voice of the woman in front of her.

"You and me? We're in this together." Then America's lips were pressed against hers, warm and familiar until the strange iciness ran up her spine and took awareness away.

 

Chapter Text

Valkyrie stomped a little as she walked through the small display kitchen. "I do not understand the necessity of this combined anniversary celebration."

"It's not a combined anniversary celebration," Annabelle replied. "It's a combined shopping trip."

"I do not understand that, then. We fight the corporatocracy; we do not support it by buying things."

"All I want is somewhere for guests to sit, so they don't have to sit on bilgesnipe furs piled on the floors."

"And I want somewhere to keep my bow so America stops complaining that it's in her way," Kate added.

Annabelle looked around the display floor at the furniture. Sure, IKEA had a lot of options, but since they finally took down La-Z-Boy and became the only furniture store in the country, the standards had dropped.

"So why must all four of us participate in this shopping adventure?"

Annabelle glanced over at Kate and found her struggling to hide her laugh. So far the trip was going exactly as expected – a grumpy America keeping her mouth shut and an equally grumpy Valkyrie trying to make her displeasure known without just coming out and saying how much it sucked. She was working on her diplomacy.

"Kate is here because of all the Fearless Defenders, she's the only one with shopping experience."

"Though not normally of such poor quality," Kate added. "The very rich have alternative suppliers."

"That's what happens when you leave it all behind to fight the man, Princess." America looked up from the futon couch she'd collapsed on to. "And keep it down. Someone could hear."

When Apple had finally reduced Samsung to rubble in the Phone Wars they had outlawed criticism of individual brands. Besides saving money in their complaints division, they were sick of people bitching that iPhones didn't connect with anything else.

Still, there was a principle at stake, so Annabelle could only agree with Kate. "Greater variety would be good. And they don't even put it together for you. It's like they're half-building furniture."

"Excuse me, Ma'am." Annabelle turned around to find a young man in a yellow shirt looking at her. "Is there a problem?"

"Billy?" America was on her feet and moving towards them. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm working. And you guys are going to get in trouble. You should leave."

"No!" Kate raised her voice and Annabelle had to duck her head to hide her grin. "Not only is the furniture not good enough, but the service sucks as well."

Val and America stiffened, but Billy just groaned before slinking away. There was a loud banging from one of the display kitchens and then a swarm of corporate SWAT officers was flooding onto the floor.

Annabelle grabbed tumblers from the dining table she was standing behind and started throwing them at the armored team coming their way. Kate pushed the table over and hid behind it. The sign said it was a Glivarp, and Annabelle was wishing it wasn't glass-topped.

"You did this on purpose!" America always was quick on the uptake. She'd picked up a nearby barstool and was using it as a baseball bat, beating the officers back.

"A worthy anniversary present! America, some help!" Valkyrie gestured to the Billy bookcase she was holding and America took the other end, the two of them using it to mow down five of the officers at once. They dropped the remains and turned to look for their next targets.

"Behind us!" Kate cried.

Annabelle glanced beside her to find Kate using pots and pans as very accurate projectile weapons, but the reinforcements just kept coming.

"Time for retreat," America said, grabbing Kate around the waist and leaping into the sky.

Valkyrie picked up a chair, ready to hurl it, as she whistled. Aragorn appeared in front of them and Annabelle quickly clambered on his back.

"That's actually a nice chair," Annabelle said. "Remember Byholma. We can order it online."

Valkyrie hurled it at the officer-in-charge before she urged Aragorn airborne, through the hole America had already punched in the ceiling. "I once visited the village of Byholma, many eons ago. There was a woman –"

"Not on our anniversary, darling."

She looked across at America and Kate, and could just hear their conversation. "Did you enjoy your anniversary present?"

"An IKEA fight? You outdid yourself, Princess."

They hovered in the air, America's arms tight around Kate, Kate's fingers in America's curls, lips moving against each other, and Annabelle could only smile that they'd found each other, even in the crazy world they lived in.

"Come, America Chavez. Before they send in air support."

Annabelle twisted on the Pegasus to kiss her own lady, before they turned their wings to home.

Chapter Text

America had taken a silent subway to the island, desperate to get away from the faux-arty disaffection of Williamsburg. They always played such terrible music, and no matter how long she'd owned her shorts, they weren't vintage enough for the hipster crowd. The mobile club of the subway, everyone dancing to their own music playing through headphones, was relaxing. America turned her MP3 player off and sat in the corner watching the abstract shapes made by bodies moving to dozens of different songs.

She got off the subway at Columbus Circle and slipped into Central Park. The outdoor club had too many entrances for door guards to do much good, which made it a melting pot of all the city's occupants. Yes, Central Park was an egalitarian utopia within a city of extreme differences of circumstance. Whether you grew up in the free clubs of the Bronx or frequented Fifth Avenue, with its $5,000 door charge, Central Park welcomed you.

America skirted the edges of the park until she got to the LSD-fueled sounds of Strawberry Fields. Then she moved inwards, past the technopop of Bethesda Fountain to the slower, sultry sounds of Trefoil Arch. She moved to the center of the dance floor, right in the middle of the arch where the music echoed off the brownstone, creating a cocoon of sound.

She closed her eyes and moved her hips and quickly lost herself in the beat.

A consequence of dancing in a nightclub, indeed of living on the Disco Ball, was incidental touching, so America ignored the light brushes of others moving around. But when hands came to rest on her hips with purpose, she opened her eyes.

A girl was in front of her – a woman, really, probably the same age as her. She had straight, dark hair and wore a purple skintight jump suit of the sort normally seen at Upper East Side. The flashing lights showed her raise her eyebrows and America nodded, stepping into her space.

They moved against each other, the music the sort that invites one to undulate, and America pressed her thigh between the girl's legs.

Hands pushed under America's top; America was shocked to find calluses scraping against her skin, but they sent a shiver coursing through her body and she pulled the girl closer. She ran her hands up the woman's torso, feeling her muscles twitch. When America's thumbs brushed the sides of her breasts, the woman's hips thrust forward and America let her forehead rest against the exposed collarbone as she groaned.

"Kate," the woman whispered into her ear. "My name's Kate."

"America," she murmured in reply.

Kate smiled, and brushed a thumb along America's cheek.

The lyrics of the song they were dancing to suddenly cut through the fog of lust that was building around them. "A little taste," the girl sang, and yes. That's exactly what America wanted. Just a little taste of Kate, the princess from the Upper East Side. She turned her head and pressed her nose to Kate's neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and some no doubt expensive perfume that had notes of patchouli and ylang ylang. She darted her tongue out, looking for a little taste, and felt Kate's hands tighten on her back.

America moved her hand to cup the back of Kate's head. She looked into Kate's eyes, wishing the light was better so she could see their color.

Kate smiled and tilted her head.

And then they kissed.

 

Chapter Text

"Are you ready?"

"Just a minute. Almost finished."

"Do you really need more purple lipstick, Princess?"

Kate rolled her eyes at the mirror. She'd accepted that 'princess' was something she was going to have to put up with.

"I'm ready."

When she turned, America was looking at a photo. Kate didn't need to see it to know what it was – her and Noh-Varr, smiling happily at the camera, taken on one of the happier dimensions they visited.

"Still not over him, chica?"

Kate thought back to the last time they'd gone out dancing, New Year’s Eve, right after they'd defeated Mother. She'd been so full of hurt and anger – he'd dumped her in the middle of a battle, for God's sake! 'I like you a lot,' he'd said. She'd thought the months of running and fighting and kissing and loving had built something more than 'like you a lot' between them.

But that was six months ago, and the hurt was gone, along with most of the anger. Now she was more angry that he stopped concentrating in the middle of a fight than she was that he had decided to leave her. Now it was Independence Day and they were going to a barbecue at Avengers’ Mansion, invitation courtesy of the other Hawkeye, and she could think about Noh-Varr without feeling like there was a fist squeezing her insides.

"I'm over him," she said, taking the photo from America. "This was a reminder, I guess. A reminder I no longer need."

She leaned forward to toss the photo in the trash and when she straightened, she found she was standing far closer to America than she expected. America's eyes were on her lips, and Kate froze, scared of scaring her away.

"No purple lipstick." America ran a thumb along her bottom lip as if to reassure herself of the fact.

"No," Kate breathed. She ran her tongue across suddenly dry lips and it brushed America's thumb. America's sharp intake of breath fascinated her. "No, I'm dressing like you, on account of the holiday."

"I like it," America said. Her thumb moved up to Kate's cheek. Kate was sure it was smearing her lipstick, but she couldn't find it in herself to mind, not when America was pulling her closer, tilting her head.

She'd seen herself kiss America so many times on their journeys through the multiverse, but had never hoped she'd get to experience it herself; never guessed America felt the same way about her.

She closed her eyes as their lips finally met. She'd expected America to be forceful and aggressive. When she'd dreamed of this, America had pushed her against the wall and taken all she wanted. But in reality America was gentle and slow, waiting for the reassurance of Kate's gasp before licking at Kate's lips and exploring her mouth.

Kate pulled back to find America looking serious, despite the red lipstick smudged across her mouth.

"Shall we go to the party?" America asked. Kate shook her head.

"No." She stepped forward, herding America towards the wall. "No, let's stay here for a little while. If – if that's okay?"

"Of course, Princess," America said, the corners of her lips curving up.

Kate bent forward again. She was looking forward to kissing that smile, and all the others, from America's lips.