Chapter Text
For Yasmin Khan (Yaz to her friends), the best place to be in the entire world was the newsroom. Especially hers. It was also the most stressful, of course, but that only added to the excitement of the day-to-day job. So many people across the globe spent the best years of their lives completing menial tasks in a grey, office cubicle, whereas she got to report on life and the thrills of existence. As a reporter, she got to live vicariously through the people she got to write about. For as long as it took to write each article or feature, she was that person.
Understandably, in the current climate, that was more exciting than ever. Their world, which had once been so mundane, was overrun by enhanced individuals. Calling them superheroes felt far too grandiose and cartoonish, making them out to be something detached from reality. Most of the stories they now wrote concerned the activity of those heroes and their particular nemeses. So, although Yasmin Khan herself didn't have any of those unbelievable powers, writing about them allowed her to imagine what it was like.
And it was forever tantalising.
There were pressures when it came to being a journalist. It was a natural part of the job. Perhaps their newsroom suffered the most from that, mainly because of the chief editor of the paper. J. Jonah Jameson wasn’t a person that many chose to mess with. If you weren’t put off by the bushy, angry eyebrows, then the harsh Scottish was perfectly designed to outline his usual disgruntlement. And if Jameson was disgruntled by anything, it was the fact that their local superhero hadn’t yet been identified. For all his staff - his underlings, for a more accurate term - the competition was raging to unmask that particular vigilante and potentially earn a hefty promotion.
Yaz viewed the world of superheroes in a romanticised fashion. The image of Spiderman swinging through the city had been glamorised in her head and a large part of her wondered whether there was any use in identifying the hero. The public loved him, despite not knowing anything about him. Maybe the anonymity added to that level of adoration. Would revealing their identity take away some of that charm? Would it lead to sourer opinions of the fabled hero? Yaz was most concerned about the fact that exposing Spiderman would put them in needless danger, whilst also reducing the good he was capable of doing.
Understandably, and as much as she valued the strength of her opinion, Yaz wasn’t remotely brave enough to voice them directly at Jameson. She wanted to keep her job, thank you very much, so she did countless stories about the hero to keep the editor happy, whilst never trying particularly hard to find out more about Spiderman’s past. If she ever complained about those expectations, it was Clara Oswald who had to contend with them. The small brunette was a fierce friend, the two of them joining the paper at the same time and forming a tight bond as a result.
With Yaz typing away on her computer, it was Clara who approached her desk, a mug of coffee barely hiding her growing smirk. Yaz should have known instantly that something was afoot, something that wasn’t likely to be in her best interests. But the best parts of Yaz’s day revolved around the times Clara would lean on her desk, gossiping under the guise of sharing important information for a potential news story. Clara was the sort of person who was so gorgeous that you doubted that they were actually real, and so basking in her presence was never a chore for Yaz.
Or the many men in their office who’d tried to get Clara’s attention, but had been consistently batted away.
“He wants to see you,” Clara said in greeting.
Yaz quickly tore her gaze away from the screen. “Who?”
“The boss.”
A heavy groan escaped her lips. “Why? I haven’t done anything wrong! I’ve met the daily quota for about two months straight. What could I have possibly done to get his attention?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t told.”
“So you allowed yourself to be a messenger?”
“Normally, I wouldn’t let myself be used in such a fashion, but when I found out it involved you, I couldn’t wait to see your reaction.”
“Thanks for the solidarity.”
“It’s not going to be anything bad, is it? You said it yourself - you’re pretty much the perfect employee. You might be getting a raise. Or an important case to report on. I should be jealous of you, actually.”
“Then why are you still smiling?”
“Because we both know that Jameson hasn’t had a positive thought for roughly three and a half years, so the chances of him praising you - or anyone, for that matter - are incredibly slim. Right now, you’re the poor, adorable little lamb about to be sent to the slaughter.”
“Did he tell you this?”
Clara wrinkled her nose. “Do you really think that he’d speak to me? I was told to get you by Donna. She takes being his assistant very seriously, so I wouldn’t keep them waiting if I was you.”
Yaz placed her head against the desk, banging it gently a few times. “Why me?”
“You’ve already asked that and I didn't have an answer last time. The only way to find out is to actually go .”
“Why can’t it be you? He likes you!”
Clara scoffed, though there was a noticeable redness to her cheeks. “That’s absolutely scandalous! Jameson doesn’t like anyone .”
“You’re his favourite. We all know it. We’ve all accepted it.”
“ We ? When was this conversation?”
“Probably when Jameson was waxing lyrical about your skills as a reporter, or when he was busy giving you the best stories during the morning conference. Or do I need to come up with more examples?”
“You know, I was going to support you through this inevitable trauma, but you can go through it on your own now.”
“You’ll be outside his office, taking photos, won’t you?”
“I’m sure Donna will be more than willing to help out. Good luck. And remember to smile for the camera.”
Yaz made sure to give her friend one last scathing look before scampering from her desk. She wanted to truly believe that the news she was on the verge of getting was going to be good. Instead, she was left overthinking about every article she’d written in the recent past, wondering which one would prove to be her downfall. Had she misquoted someone? Had she used a particularly unflattering picture of someone that they wanted to be removed? Did Jameson know that she wasn’t doing anything when it came to prying into Spiderman’s life?
She was waved along by Donna, who didn't even bother to look up from her desk whilst she worked, allowing Yaz to step foot into the editor’s office after a moment’s hesitation. She used those few seconds to compose herself, planting an eager and enthusiastic smile on her face that was at odds with the queasiness of her stomach. She hadn’t been inside the office too many times, but it was as lavish and as spacious as she remembered. A startling view of the city came with the territory when you owned a space in their tower, but it was accentuated by the sleek, varnished design of the room.
Jameson was standing with his back to the door by the time Yaz came in and she almost expected him to conduct the conversation like that, given his general lack of fondness for other people. Yet he was quick to turn around, taking Yaz by surprise as always with those cold, grey eyes of his. They had a way of boring through your very soul, revealing all your secrets without you having to open your mouth. It was no wonder that he was such a good journalist when he didn't even have to ask questions to get his answers.
“You’re young, aren’t you?”
Whatever Yaz had been expecting, it wasn’t that, which was why her mouth opened and closed a few times in response. Finding any sort of reply was difficult, but on the back foot by his sheer briskness. His Scottish brogue was always substantially clipped, with Jameson not the sort of person who wasted any words. It was a side effect of being in his profession, where word counts reigned supreme.
“Um…I suppose I am, yes,” Yaz answered, looking for any cameras on the wall as if this was some sort of practical joke. It wouldn’t have surprised her to find out that Clara was somehow in on it, though how she had wrangled the chief editor into playing along was a much larger mystery. Maybe there was more to her being his favourite than Yaz had initially realised.
“And you’re a woman?”
“Last time I checked.”
“When was the last time you checked?”
“Oh…um…I was making a joke, sir.”
“Ah, you’re funny. As young people nowadays so often are.”
“Is there…something you wanted from me, sir?”
She hated how subservient she sounded, as if she shouldn’t have been remotely intimidated by the man before her. She also hated that she was so willingly pushing the conversation forward, knowing that she should have just left it up to Jameson to go at his own speed. He would no doubt explain his, frankly, weird questions at some point. Just like unmasking Spiderman, most of the intrigue came in the unknowingness of the situation.
“We’ve got a new recruit who’s about to arrive and I was looking for someone who could take them under their wing. You fit the bill. As now established, you’re both young and a woman. So is our latest photographer.”
“A photographer?”
“Yes. We still use those, believe it or not. You might not think so, given some of the quality of images you’ve taken in the past on your smartphone . But she’s reportedly very good at her job, something which I’ll verify myself over time. I was under the impression that she could work with you initially, Khan, whilst she gets her bearings.”
“...with me?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “Are you able to do anything other than echo what I’m saying?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry…this just isn’t what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting?”
“I…don’t know, sir.”
“What a mighty fine journalist you are, Khan. Keep up the good work.” He wandered back to his desk, evidently growing bored with their discussion. “The photographer should already be in the building somewhere. You might need to use your journalistic skills to find her, which I hope won’t be too difficult for you.”
“Absolutely not, sir.”
“I was being sarcastic, Khan. Old people can be funny too.”
“Of course, sir.”
“I was thinking that she could join you on any assignments you might have. You’ll be going out into the big, wide world to interview people, and she’ll be on hand to get their pictures. That should leave you with only one job - actually finding the story that interests our readers. Sometimes…sometimes I think you try to do too much instead of focusing on the bread and butter of the story. Go back to basics. Let this photographer help you do that.”
“I…didn’t know you were paying such close attention to my articles, sir.”
“I read everything that comes through our system. Trust me, it isn’t very exciting. There’s your challenge, Khan. Excite me.”
“Any hints as to how to do that?”
“Any chance of finding Spiderman?”
“I could try,” Yaz allowed, not wanting to make any concrete promises.
“Maybe you’ll surprise me. Maybe this photographer is the key to your success. She has a good track record of capturing our unwanted vigilante on camera, so I want to utilise that. For some readers, our readers love those stories. Readers equal clicks and clicks equal money.”
“Got it.”
She hovered for a few seconds, waiting for anything else to be said. By now, Jameson had returned to his oversized seat and was now largely obscured by his computer screen. Tapping her foot impatiently, not wanting to leave without permission, she found Jameson’s head moving so that he could look at her directly. The glare on his face quickly told her what she wanted and she obediently scarpered out of the office with her tail between her legs.
Clara was still patrolling Yaz’s work area, the intended target of the rather disorientated journalist. Except she became distracted by the sound of someone talking quite loudly in the near distance. A woman was standing by the reception desk at the far end of the office, having presumably just emerged from the nearby elevator. The woman, sporting blonde hair that just made it to her shoulders, was flapping around for something, with the worker dealing with them looking particularly perturbed by the experience.
Yaz didn't know what drove her towards the scene. She could blame her journalistic instincts, which Jameson had just called into doubt. Whatever the reason, she wandered past her friend so that she could listen into the conversation developing. The way the blonde woman moved around was entertaining to say the least, putting a small smile on Yaz’s face. Her arms were constantly gesticulating, whizzing around like wind turbines in an erratic fashion.
“I swear, I had the pass on me!” the woman was saying. “I took particular care to remember it before I left home!”
“But you don’t have it now?”
The receptionist - Ruth - wasn’t particularly patient, especially when it came to newcomers, which was outlined by the constant rolling of her eyes as the newcomer continued to flap about. It raised the question as to why she’d chosen to come into a job that involved dealing with members of the public if she didn't actually like people, but Yaz had never been brave enough to ask that to the woman directly. She’d learnt to just say hello in the morning and leave it at that, a rule their latest arrival hadn’t yet cottoned onto.
“It must be somewhere!”
“Maybe you dropped it?”
“I am clumsy but not that clumsy. This was too important for me to mess up. That’s what I kept telling myself, anyway.”
“Maybe you failed.”
The woman gasped. “You should have more faith in me than that!”
“I don’t know you. All I’ve seen so far is you failing to show the proper credentials to be in this building.”
“Perhaps I could intervene,” Yaz suggested, butting her way into the discussion.
With the unexpected interruption, the frantic woman’s actions slowed enough for her to look Yaz in the eye, with the reporter suddenly at a loss for words. And that was fatal for someone in her line of work. The stranger’s green eyes were mesmerising, shining with impossible brightness. Yaz felt she could write a story just about them, before realising that she was supposed to be helping, rather than mindlessly staring at the beautiful blonde.
“She says she’s here for a job,” Ruth explained. “A new photographer.”
Yaz couldn’t believe her luck. If she’d been smiling before at the sight of the woman, the grin must have been stretching from ear to ear now. Jameson hadn’t mentioned anything about their new recruit being insanely attractive. He probably didn't understand that sort of thing, seeing as he couldn’t even tell whether she was young or a woman. Yaz was starting to wonder how she’d ever been hesitant about speaking with the editor if this was going to be the end result.
“Yep, Jameson just told me about that,” Yaz said, hoping that her voice didn't sound too shaky. “I can take her off your hands, if you want. Turns out that it’s my job to introduce her to the company.”
“Have at it,” Ruth grumbled. “She interrupted me whilst I was reading my magazine. I’ve lost my page.”
The photographer winced slightly at the comment, but her expression lightened somewhat when she was dragged away by Yaz towards a free corner. Yaz found that she didn't really want to let go of the other woman’s arms, only just remembering that there were certain protocols when it came to professional conduct. The last thing she wanted was a visit from HR. Tegan Jovanka wasn’t a woman to be trifled with at the best of times.
“Hi,” Yaz said breathlessly once they were alone.
“You’ve been assigned to me?” the woman asked.
“I…suppose that’s one way of putting it. I’m just here to make sure that you’re comfortable in your new job. I think the editor wants us to work quite closely for the time being, so that you have a chance to show off your skills with a camera.”
“That’s something I can definitely do!” The woman pouted for a second. “Although, now that I think about it, I think I may have left my camera in the car.”
Yaz laughed lightly. “Don’t worry about it. We were all nervous on our first day. It’s basically a rite of passage.”
The woman blew a puff of air from her mouth, shifting her fringe. “I didn't know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you…” Her eyes widened. “I don’t even know your name!”
Again, a laugh escaped Yaz’s lips. “It’s Yasmin. Yasmin Khan. But my friends usually call me Yaz.”
“Then it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Yaz .”
“And…your name…?”
The woman hit herself on the forehead. “How could I forget? It’s E.T Brown, Yaz.”
“...E.T…like the…?”
“...little alien? Precisely like that. It actually stands for Emily Taylor but that sounded so boring to me. I knew I needed something a bit cooler.”
“You definitely succeeded.”
“You think so?”
“It’s easily the coolest name I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re going to make me blush if you’re not careful.”
“Then the compliment had its desired effect.”
E.T grinned bashfully. “Is everything here like you?”
“Not even remotely. You got exceptionally lucky when Jameson paired us together.” Yaz leaned in. “Especially since I hear that you’re interested in a certain superhero around these parts…”
The expression on the other woman’s face changed almost imperceptibly. “You were told that?”
“Jameson said you’ve been brilliant in taking photos of Spiderman. I’ve probably seen all your pictures without realising who’d been taking them all this time. I’m a bit of a fangirl, really.”
“Of…Spiderman?”
“Yeah. I know, it’s not the coolest look but I can’t help which stories appeal to me. There’s something so…mesmerising about him, don’t you think?”
“Him. Yeah. Very mesmerising.”
“Though I suppose you could say I’m also a fan of yours, seeing as I love your pictures. And…now I’m saying that, I’m realising how weird it is to start our partnership by admitting that.”
The smile promptly returned. “I’ve got a fan? And the fan is Yasmin Khan ? I think I’m going to like working here more than I first thought.”