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"Men suck," Jessica moans the moment Carol picks up her phone. She holds back a sigh and Chewie from jumping into her laundry basket and curling up in her freshly washed clothes.
"I'm not going to say I told you so," Carol says, "because I'm a good friend."
"Keep telling yourself that," Jessica snaps.
"Uh, I know you're going through a rough time, but," Carol starts, but she hears Jessica sigh loudly, like she's blowing her hair out of her eyes, and waits.
"Sorry," Jessica mutters. "I didn't mean for it to come out so sharp. I was trying for banter. We're good at banter." She falls silent, but Carol knows just what she means. I miss the banter, she thinks, there hasn’t been enough of it lately.
Carol sits quietly and scratches Chewie's head thoughtfully, her phone pinched between her shoulder and her ear as she waits for Jessica to speak again.
"You are a good friend," Jessica says finally, in a softer voice. Carol feels her chest tighten a little. Damn you.
"You wanna meet up and talk about it?" Carol says finally, kindly. She feels Jessica tense on the other side of the line.
"Not really, no," Jessica replies, "I don't even want to think about it. Whatever it was."
*
"And," Jessica says to the ceiling, sprawled out over Carol's couch like she owns it, her cup of supposedly comforting tea sitting forgotten and cold on the coffee table, "not that I want to wax poetic about them, but his arms --"
Carol, who's sitting in her favorite green-striped armchair with her feet propped up on the table, pulls her spoon out of her mouth and waves it around in the air, muttering back, "No, not like you've been waxing poetic about him. At all."
"They were nice arms," Jessica says, pulling one of Carol's cat-hair-covered pillows out from beneath her head and holding it over her stomach. "And he was so strong --"
"Because there's no shortage of strength around here."
"And he could do this thing, the thing I told you about -- with his tongue --"
"Well, heaven knows he's had plenty of practice," Carol continues. Jessica sits up and raises an eyebrow, and even Chewie meows from his cat tower. "Okay. That might have been a low blow, but --"
"Kate said it's something to do with his masculinity issues," Jessica interrupts, reaching for her cold tea and wincing when she takes a sip. Carol leans forwards and holds out a hand to warm it up for her. Their fingers brush as Carol hands back the mug. "Thanks."
"Kate?" Carol muses, "Baby Hawkeye? I thought you were dating the bigger version." Jessica throws the pillow at her and laughs bitterly.
"Ew, can you tell jokes about someone who’s at least the age of consent?"
"Pretty sure she's 18, now," Carol says.
"Ugh, I feel old," Jessica squirms in her seat. "When did I get so old?"
"You're really making me feel peachy over here, Jess," Carol deadpans.
“Sorry,” she says unapologetically, leaning back on the couch for a quiet moment. Just as Carol opens her mouth, she starts up again. “It was like dating a teenager, though. Most people can –- can make coffee properly, or manage a bank account, or feed their dog actual dog food. That mutt’s going to turn out like Officer Paws from Dog Cops if he doesn’t cut down on the human food.”
Carol, who feels like the only person who doesn’t watch Dog Cops, makes what she hopes is a sympathetic noise. When does the ‘over him’ stage happen? She wonders wistfully.
“I don’t know -– I guess, dog people,” Jessica waves her hand vaguely and sighs.
“Amen,” Carol mutters. Jessica looks over at her and chews on the inside of her lip.
"How about we split the bill on takeout?" Jessica proposes suddenly as she reaches for Carol's remote and turns on the television. Carol considers. She can deal with that.
"What about pizza and cheesy bread?" she suggests. Jessica nods enthusiastically and makes room for Carol on the couch.
They end up stuffing their faces with pineapple pizza and arguing over what to watch on Netflix for two hours.
Jessica smiles, and Carol thinks: Success.
*
Carol wakes up the next morning to Chewie scratching at the couch and her head telling her it's time for another couple of prescription painkillers -- but the warm weight draped half across her body tells her otherwise.
Oh. This is new.
Jessica is totally out, her cheek pressed warmly against Carol's shoulder, her fingers curled up in the shared blanket spread out over Carol's thighs. She breathes slowly and steadily, completely unaware that she’s wrapped around Carol, dead weight she could easily move -- but she doesn’t want to.
Carol shivers unwillingly, nudging Jessica from her dreams.
"Carol," Jessica murmurs, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she opens them. She smiles.
"Go back to sleep," Carol finds herself saying, feeling strangely like it's her job to take care of Jessica, to comfort her, and wondering where the hell that instinct came from.
"No," Jessica says, her voice shaking off the sleep, and she crawls forward, nearly onto Carol's lap, and kisses her.
Carol can hardly think for a moment as Jessica presses their lips together, eyes closed and mouth unrepentant. But then Jessica runs a hand down her bare arm and she feels it like a live wire, like sparks dancing across her skin to settle in her fingertips. Jessica’s lips are soft and urgent, pressing against hers like she needs this and Carol --
"Jess," she says softly, pushing Jessica away, surprised that it takes so much effort. "Jess," she says again.
Jessica still hasn't opened her eyes, and Carol can imagine that she doesn't want to break the spell.
"Yeah?" she asks softly.
"I don't want to be your rebound," Carol whispers. Jessica opens her eyes. They stare at her, green and shining until Carol has to look away. She never realized how much she wanted this -– she never wanted to think about it, to do anything more than hold her gaze and smile back when it counted. And Jessica can’t even look at her, now. She inwardly curses, Damn it.
"Okay," Jessica says, eyes fixed on her knees, "okay, yeah, I'll just. I'll call you."
She clears her throat and slides off the couch and to her feet. Carol just sits there numbly as Jessica grabs her purse, shrugs on her coat, and slips out the door. She was so quiet, Carol thinks when she's gone.
"Meoorw," Chewie meows.
"Yeah, shut up," Carol crosses her arms over her chest as she heads to the kitchen for her medication.
*
2 New Messages From: Jessica Drew.
Carol makes a face, switches her phone to silent, and shoves it back into her pocket. She hates when her phone rings in the middle of a fight (even if it’s just weird mutant chickens, seriously, what the hell?) and she’s left wondering who’s trying to contact her.
"Boyfriend troubles?" Cap says good naturedly as he walks over from the officer and the (sadly deceased) mutant chickens, arms crossed across his chest like he's the authority on these things. (Which he might be, honestly, if Carol's suspicions are correct.)
"Kind of?" Carol responds, startling a head tilt from Steve. "Kidding," she says, even though she isn't sure what she means any more.
"I didn't know you were dating," he says, and Carol imagines an eyebrow raised behind his cowl. "I was just joking, you know."
"I’m not," she huffs, "which is why it's a problem."
"What's problematic about it?"
Carol waves her hands in the air, gesturing wildly and blankly as she struggles for words. Cap takes a step back.
"Is it that Frank guy?" he asks, but Carol just shakes her head negatively and sighs.
"It’s…nothing,” she says, but Steve isn’t buying it. “I guess I'm just worried that it's because I'm...convenient," she says.
"There's nothing about you that I'd call convenient, Carol," Steve says with a glint in his eye.
"Gee, thanks,” she rolls her eyes. “But it’s nothing. It’d never work. We want different things.”
Steve scratches his chin, like that’s a normal thing for someone to do. “What do you want?”
“I don’t want to be her sloppy seconds. I want all of it, all the corny relationship stuff. I want the dumb date nights, the stupid fights, the awkward breakfast-making elbow bumps. I want to take her up flying -– someday. I don’t know,” Carol says suddenly, scuffing her foot on the street, “I want stability.”
"Have you tried telling her?" he asks, voice turning serious.
Carol shrugs. "She doesn't want that."
"How do you know if you never ask?" Steve says plainly, boldly, like it's the easiest thing in the world.
"Yeah, well," Carol runs a hand through her hair. "It's not that simple. This stuff doesn't work out like that."
"Everything will work out. You’ll see. You'll be fine," he says assuredly. Steve pats her on the shoulder and turns to walk away. Carol massages the back of her head self-consciously, feeling that he's not just talking about her romantic troubles anymore.
Easy for you to say, she thinks, but he can't help it if his confidence is a little infectious.
*
"We should get dinner sometime," Carol says the moment Jessica opens the door. She doesn't reply immediately, just stares wide-eyed at Carol as she stands in the doorway in her bathrobe, with her wet hair in clumps and a stained towel spread over her shoulders. Carol can smell the dye in her hair and feels a headache coming on (not that that's any different than usual, but still).
"What?" Jessica says, blinking.
"If you're still interested," Carol shrugs, like it's nothing. Jessica opens her mouth to speak, but Carol hears a timer go off in her apartment. Of course.
"Will you help me rinse off my hair?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder at her empty apartment. Carol nods, and Jessica steps back to let her into her apartment.
She follows Jessica into the bathroom, where she shuts off the timer and turns on the sink. Carol rolls up her sleeves as Jessica leans forward, tilting her head into the sink. She feels the cold water on the back of her hand and turns the hot knob a little.
"Let me know if it's too hot," she says, gently running her fingers through Jessica's long, water-darkened hair, washing the dye out of it. She twists helpfully so Carol can get the crown of her head. Neither of them speak over the rush of the water as Carol moves from her scalp to the ends of her hair.
"Shampoo and conditioner are still in the box," Jessica says, interrupting the silence. Carol shakes her hands off and takes the tubes out of the box lying nearby. She pours a little shampoo into her hand and massages it into Jessica's scalp. The water once again fills the silence as Carol rinses the soap bubbles away.
"Did you mean a date?" Jessica says finally. Her voice sounds muffled from the sink, and Carol hesitates with her fingers at Jessica's scalp. Last chance, Danvers, she mentally sighs, it’s not too late to turn back.
"Yes," Carol says. She waits for Jessica to reply before she realizes that she can't hear her over the water rushing in her ears. "Yes," she says more loudly. "If that's okay."
"I thought you didn't want to be my rebound," Jessica replies bitterly. Carol shuts off the water again to massage conditioner into her hair.
"I don't want to be," Carol says firmly, "but I'd like to be your girlfriend."
She feels like there should be some grand statement, some confession or swooping gesture. There isn't, just the sounds of water running from the faucet and Jessica's hair underneath her hands.
"Really?"
"Really."
Jessica doesn't say anything as she rinses out the conditioner and turns off the water. The silence seems even louder now that the water is gone, but Carol occupies herself by searching for a dry towel. She grabs one and holds it out for Jessica, who expertly wraps her long, freshly dyed black hair in it and flips her head up.
"You're on," Jessica smiles, tilting her chin. A drop of water runs down her face, but Carol wipes it away. She smiles back as Jessica leans up an inch.
Carol beats her to the kiss, and it feels like a new form of electricity flying through her veins.