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The chaotic boom of video game explosions greets Carol when she steps inside the sun-bathed apartment.
“Dude, you scared me.” Pietro is lying sprawled on the floor, his head propped up against their threadbare couch in a way that cannot be comfortable. “I figured you were still asleep.”
“It’s almost four.”
He shrugs, frowning at the TV. “I thought cheerleaders partied hard.”
“You’d be surprised.” She toes off her sneakers and makes her way to the kitchen.
There’s a drawing tacked onto the fridge door, depicting three cats with little bowls in front of them.
“Our folks are out of town, Wanda went to feed the cats.”
Carol smoothes her fingers over the curled edge of the paper.
(She thinks about Goose dozing against her hip, the warmth of her faded orange fur. Maria’s voice, softer than Carol expected, her face radiant in the turquoise pool lights. She misses you.)
“Hello? Earth to Danvers.”
“Huh?” Carol surfaces into the moment, pulling the cupboard door open.
“I said, wanna play a round of Mario Kart?” Pietro gestures with the game controller.
“Yeah, sure.” She rattles the near-empty box in his general direction. “You ate all the cereal? Again?”
“Not all of it. And I left you the toy,” he mumbles around a spoon. “Thought you might like it.”
Carol holds up the little plastic space ship, turning it around in her fingers.
“What’s that on your arm?”
(She thinks about how it tickled; Maria jotting down her phone number in that surprisingly chaotic scrawl, telling Carol to stay still, her voice light with laughter.)
“Nothing,” she says, dropping the toy back into the box. “Just a reminder.”
●
“How many times have you seen this movie?”
Carol is on the floor with her back against her bed, tediously sowing a flying saucer patch onto the pocket of her denim jacket. Maria hums under her breath while she paints her toenails, occasionally stopping to pop her gum.
“Which one?” Carol asks, her eyes glued to the task at hand.
“What do you mean, which one? Isn’t this Alien?”
Carol gestures towards the screen. “There’s three Alien movies, this is the second one.”
“Okay.” A pause. “What’s this called?”
“Aliens.”
Maria snorts. “And the third? More Aliens?”
“Fuck you.” Carol jabs the needle into her finger and hisses out a curse.
“Come on, tell me.”
Carol feels Maria shift on the bed.
“Alien 3,” she mutters barely audibly, sucking her fingertip into her mouth. Blood wells up on her tongue.
“They should’ve thought of that when they were naming the second movie. But good to know you’re still a big fucking nerd,” Maria coos, poking at Carol’s shoulder with her toes.
The movement knocks over the nail polish, and then several things happen in quick succession.
The bottle drips a trail of purple sparkles down the plaid bedspread, like the faint smudge of a galaxy. Maria lunges after it, making a startled sound in the back of her throat, but Carol is faster. Her fist closes around the bottle in mid-air.
“Fuck.” She uncurls her fingers, the polish smeared into her palm.
Carol looks up and Maria is there, teetering on the edge of the mattress, her mouth parted in mild shock. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, baby strands curling softly at her temples, and she smells like fresh flowers and citrus and salt; a distantly aquatic scent Carol knows all too well without meaning to.
“Jesus,” Maria says, breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”
She’s so close, closer than she probably should be, her wide eyes darting between Carol’s face and the bottle.
Carol swallows around nothing. There’s static in the air, and a buzzing current running just under her skin, like something charging up.
“I’m sorry,” Maria repeats, her gaze dropping to Carol’s lips.
Carol’s heart kicks behind her ribs; a wild, chaotic gallop that is bound to end in a fatal collision.
“I’m— I gotta go get this stuff off,” she says in a rush as she scrambles up and runs off into the bathroom, leaving Maria sitting cross-legged surrounded by Carol’s stuffed animals.
She tries not to look at herself while she scours her palm with Wanda’s nail polish remover, the smell doing nothing to help the churning in her stomach. She thinks she hears the door but keeps going until every last fleck of glitter is gone, her skin rubbed red and raw.
When she’s finally done, running a wet hand through her hair, the person looking back at her from the mirror looks disappointed.
Carol returns to her room, not surprised to find Maria gone. She opens a window and looks up to the overcast night sky, clouds obscuring all but a couple of stars.
●
Carol pulls her knees against her chest, the receiver tucked between her ear and shoulder. Her hands are sweaty with nerves; she wipes them on her thigh while listening to the dial tone.
“Hello?”
“Hi. It’s, um.” Carol wants to kick herself even worse than usual. “It’s me,” she adds, not very helpfully.
“Oh. Hey.” Maria’s voice is light, and maybe a little surprised.
“So.” Carol clears her throat, casting around for something to say, but Maria beats her to it.
“Listen, I’m sorry. For, y’know, bailing last night. I just figured—“
“Don’t,” Carol cuts in. “I mean, it’s fine. I get it.”
Yeah, ‘cause you’re both hopeless, Nat’s voice says in her head.
Maria hums. “It’s really not, but thanks. I was gonna call you, you know” she adds, the words muffled by something she’s eating.
“Yeah, I know.” Carol can’t help the butterflies swarming in her stomach. “Look, I wanted to ask you— Bucky’s visiting his sister this weekend, and there’s this party he’s promised to go to, y’know, the guys he hung out with in high school.” She takes a breath, closing her eyes. “And it’s probably pretty dumb and stuff, but he’s bringing his new boyfriend, and I already said I’d be their wingman, so I thought maybe…”
“He’s bringing the swim team captain?” Maria asks, positively delighted. “Are you kidding me? Of course I’ll come. I mean, if this is you asking me.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you if it sucks. Which it probably will.”
“I don’t care, I’ve gotta see this with my own two eyes.”
Carol nods to herself, relief flooding her body. “I mean, it’s lasted longer than Nat bet it would.”
Maria laughs low in her throat. “Well, I sure hope they make it through the hometown weekend.”
There’s a split in the outer seam of Carol’s jeans, dandelion yellow thread bursting from her thigh. She tugs at it, pulling it tight.
“I think they will,” she says. “I’ve got a feeling he’s a good one.”
●
The party is pretty much what Carol expected — loud and obnoxious, with quite a few people she hasn’t seen in years, and really could have done without ever seeing again. She’s out on the deck, trying not to listen to someone being sick over the railing and into some well-tended hydrangea bushes. They couldn’t find Bucky when they arrived so they split up, Maria assigning herself the task of getting them drinks while she checks the living room and kitchen.
A guy that looks vaguely familiar makes eye contact with Carol across the deck, cocking an eyebrow in a way that makes her flinch inwardly. She turns on her heel to head back inside, and is immediately met with an immovable object.
A very tall, broad-shouldered object, complete with a stupidly beautiful face framed by sandy blond hair.
Who just spilled his drink on Carol.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck. I’m sorry.” He shoves what’s left of the beer towards her. “Here, if you’ll hold this for a sec—“
Before she knows what’s happening, she’s taken the red plastic cup from him and he’s pulling off his hoodie, revealing a pair of biceps Carol can’t help but be impressed by, his shirt stretched tight over a carved chest.
Oh, great.
He holds the garment out to her, gesturing at her soaked shirt with his other hand. “I know it won’t make it okay, but maybe it’ll help if you use this to, um, dry it off a bit?”
“Yeah. No, thanks, I think I’ll manage.” She hands back the cup, pinching the front of her t-shirt between a thumb and a forefinger to pull it away from her body.
“Okay. Shit. I’m so fucking sorry. Could I—“ He shoves the hoodie under his arm, aggressively chewing on his lip. “Listen, can I at least get you a drink? Like, to even try to make up for this?”
She nods towards the screen doors behind him, decidedly trying not to look at the way his arms flex. “From the keg? Wow, that’s so nice of you.”
He looks a bit like he wants to cry, and busies himself with tying the hoodie around his impossibly tiny waist. “Uh, no, I’ve got some… Well, it’s beer, but it’s probably better than what’s in the keg?”
“Yeah, no.” She gives him a curt headshake, wondering how she’s going to explain to Bucky she left the party without even talking to him. “Look, I’m sure you’re a swell guy and all, but I’m just not interested in, um, your beer, and I actually gotta go. Like, right fucking now.”
She mock-salutes him and makes to walk straight past him and into the house to grab Maria and get the hell out of there, but something about the dejected set of those ridiculous shoulders and the earnest frown makes her hesitate just the slightest bit.
“Yeah, okay.” It comes out so quiet she barely hears it. “Again, I’m really sorry, I’m not always such a klutz, I’m just pretty jetlagged, and I can’t find my— uh, my friend I came with, and I don’t actually know anyone else here so I guess I’m kinda nervous, too?” He draws an audible breath, running a hand over his face. “Anyway, I’ll try to stay out of your way, and I hope the rest of your night goes better.”
God-fucking-damnit.
“So… you don’t know any of these people?” She looks up at him, twisting the hem of her shirt into a knot to wring beer out of it.
“No, I mean I came with someone, but he’s…” The guy shakes his head, gesturing vaguely with his near-empty cup. “Wait, maybe you’ve seen him? About this tall, dark hair, a Buffy shirt?”
Carol can feel the puzzle pieces bouncing around in her head, desperately trying to connect.
“Buffy?”
“Um, yeah. Like, the vampire thing?”
It’s only now that she notices the smiling cartoon orca emblazoned on the guy’s chest, a strange half-laugh tumbling from her lips. “...Steve?”
He now looks absolutely, thoroughly confused.
“Huh?”
“You’re Steve.”
“I, um, yeah, I mean—“
He’s cut off by a voice from the doorway.
“Danvers! What happened to your shirt?”
It’s Bucky, trailing after Maria and grinning like an idiot, his arms laden with bottles. He shuffles over to Carol and kisses her on the cheek, loud and wet.
“Eugh.” She laughs and scrunches her nose, tugging on his earlobe. “Yeah, I absolutely have not missed you.”
Bucky rolls his eyes so dramatically they’re in danger of disappearing into the back of his head. “Too bad a little bird already told me that you have, in fact, missed me terribly.”
“Aww, another stray puppy.” Maria looks Steve up and down before turning to Carol. “Looks like you ended up with the cute one.”
Bucky bumps his shoulder against hers. “Fuck you,” he says rather affectionately as he starts to hand out the beers.
Steve just smiles sheepishly, holding one of the bottles up for Carol. “So. How about that drink, after all?”
●
They head off home in the early hours of the morning, the warm hush of air settling around them, fragrant with lilac and Mexican orange. A choir of crickets chirps in the bushes.
Eventually Maria breaks the spell by asking, “Who was that you were talking to?”
“What?” Carol blinks out of her thoughts, glancing at her from the corner of her eye.
“That girl, just before we left? Tall, blond? Really pretty?”
“Oh.” Carol pauses, rubbing the heel of her hand across her brow. “Yeah. That’s Karen.”
“Okay.” Maria kicks a pebble, sending it skittering diagonally across the road. “I was just wondering, ‘cause you didn’t introduce us.”
“I mean, we just hung out last year. For a bit.”
“You mean you dated her.”
The words settle into the pit of Carol’s stomach like a lead weight. A white minivan zooms past; the first car they’ve seen since they left the party.
“I don’t know.” She sucks on her teeth, stalling for words. “Yeah, maybe. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Okay,” Maria says, simple as that.
Except it doesn’t sound like it’s okay.
“Okay what?”
“Just, okay.” Maria keeps pulling at her bracelet and letting it snap back against her wrist with a dull pop. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to ask.”
Carol stops to scrape the sole of her sneaker against the curb, trying to get gum off it. “I never said you weren’t.”
“Sure felt like it.”
Carol finally looks at her, illuminated by the overhanging street light. “You can ask, but you don’t get to act all offended when you don’t like the answer.”
The look on Maria’s face closes in on itself.
“Fuck.” Carol fumbles for her cigarettes, almost dropping the lighter. “I’m sorry,” she says after the first burning lungful of smoke. “It’s just… You know it can’t be like it was.”
“I know.” Maria shifts to the side, her features swallowed by the shadows.
“I’m different, and we… we’re both different.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Maria says. “It’s not that I’m jealous—“
Carol waits, biting the inside of her cheek. The cherry of her cigarette glows like a firefly, shooting sparks when she flicks her thumb against the filter.
“There’s just so much I don’t know. So much I missed out on.” Maria’s eyes are watchful as her face comes back into view. “Like you said, we were kids back then. And yeah, the other night I—“ she cuts herself off, taking a few careful steps closer. “I thought about kissing you.”
Just kids, Carol thinks, but I never stopped wanting things I’m not supposed to want.
Still, something expands inside her chest, pressing almost painfully against her diaphragm. “You did?”
Maria laughs, long-suffering and fond. “Come on. You know I did.”
Carol tries to hide her smile, glancing at her shoes. Moments tick by in silence; even the crickets seem to quiet down.
“You were right, though,” Maria says around a sudden yawn.
“I was?” Carol asks, crushing the cigarette with her heel.
“About Steve. He’s a good one.”
“Yeah, he is.” Carol tugs on the hem of the Dartmouth Killer Whales t-shirt Steve insisted she’d wear instead of her own beer-stained one.
(Her mind flashes back to Bucky, pulling her into a tight hug while Maria and Steve were already making breakfast plans for the next day. His eyes were wide and vulnerable when he whispered, I really fucking like him, Carol. I don’t wanna fuck this up, and she kissed him on the forehead and promised him he wouldn’t.
And, then: Steve tucking Bucky against his side and nosing at his temple, a gesture so casually intimate and well lived-in that Carol had to look away.)
The darkness is becoming wispy, cut through with a haze of of pale light.
She lets out a long breath and holds her hand out to Maria, palm up. “Any chance you want to walk me home?”
Maria takes it, lacing their fingers together with care. “Yeah,” she says, quietly. “I do.”