"Well, I didn't make it easy for him in the beginning," she admitted. "He never held it against me, though. But I'm glad I let him stay. We were stretching ourselves thin with just
three adults."
She trailed off, obviously thinking of the kids, Hannah, Remy, and Bali. But before anyone could say anything, she shook her head and looked towards Tony and Bruce.
"So, who's the leader of your little group? Or is it a sort of mutual responsibility?"
"Steve's the leader," Bruce answered.
"Technically," Tony put in. "But I provide all the funding, a crash pad, any and all modifications, and I make us all look cool. Nothing that would influence the Avengers in any
way."
"Yes, Tony, we're all very grateful for your contributions," Steve said with a roll of his eyes.
"Stark enjoys speaking about his actions at length," Thor told Nikki, earning an affronted exclamation from Tony.
"While we're talking about what I do for the team," Tony said, clearing his throat as he redirected the conversation. "I have a few ideas for your new getup. Granted, your
original was fine for vigilantism but, if you're going to play in the big leagues, you're going to need something more interesting."
"He means 'flashier'," Bruce told her with a small smile.
"I resent that," Tony muttered to him.
Nikki frowned at that, "Why is everyone so adamant on giving me a new outfit. I don't think what I wear is really that important."
"Maybe not to you," Tony said. "But, in your sweatshirt and yoga pants, you made a statement. You were an everyman superhero, fighting for the average Jane and Joe on
the streets. Did you know that 'FreeTheAlchemist' became a trending topic when video footage of HYDRA attacking your family leaked out to the public?"
"A what?"
Tony shook his head at her, clearly exasperated with her lack of knowledge on the matter.
"It's an internet and social media thing," Steve informed her. "It's a topic that lots of people see because of something called 'tagging', which allows people to find things
easier. I'll explain it completely later."
"Thanks," she whispered back, watching as Tony muttered irritably about pop culture-challenged heroes and Bruce explained to him that five years wasn't enough time to learn
about forty-two years' worth of culture.
"Maybe we should leave," Steve suggested, sparing the two scientists a glance. "They'll be at it for a little while. Besides, you look like you could use a break."
"I'm fine."
Steve leaned down, his lips almost brushing against her hair, and good-naturedly whispered, "Liar."
She turned to look at him in disbelief, her face barely an inch from his. He met her eyes evenly, blue to brown, as he waited for her to deny it. She raised an eyebrow at him in
a silent question.
"You've got circles under your eyes because you haven't been sleeping through the night," he explained. "And you picked at your food for the past two days. I know you're
worried, but you won't be able to help anyone if you put yourself in the infirmary."
She sighed, but it was more resigned than irritated, "You're right." – she turned her attention to Bruce, Tony, and Thor – "It was nice meeting you two, but I'm going to turn in
early and I'm sure you have better things to do than this little meet-and-greet."
Tony opened his mouth to protest, but shut it quickly as Bruce elbowed his in the side.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, too, Nikki," Bruce said in reply.
"Rest well, Lady Nikki," Thor called after them.
Although the door closing behind them muffled much of what the other Avengers said after, Steve couldn't help but hear as Tony said, "For being 'just friends', our good
Captain seems pretty keen. Following her to bed, and all."
Steve felt his face heat up and stole a glance towards Nikki, but she didn't seem to have heard them. In fact, now that they no longer had an audience, she dropped the
façade and almost looked more exhausted than she had before. Steve frowned at the visible change in her entire demeanor. If she continued the way she was, he had no
doubt that she would wind up in the infirmary. It said a lot that the safety of her family was more important to her than her own health.
"What are you thinking about over there?"
Steve started, pulled from his thoughts by Nikki's voice. She was watching him carefully, her brows drawn together in a worried line, and he was struck by the idea that she
was worried for him.
"Recent events," he said, telling himself that he was definitely not lying, just broadening his definition of the truth.
He really needed to stop spending so much time with Natasha.
She gave him a once-over, as though she didn't believe him, and suddenly narrowed her eyes, "You're walking with a limp."
It wasn't a question. It was a blatant statement, almost an accusation, made by the acute observation of a woman who had been running a house full of several mutant
children and a demigod. In retrospect, Steve wondered how he ever thought she wouldn't notice in the first place. As he was thinking of an answer, Nikki's eyes focused on
something behind him and her lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering what she had seen, and bit back a groan. They had reached the part of the
hall that Erik had ripped apart.
"Did Erik talk to you?"
The way she said talk implied that she meant something a little more forceful than a friendly chat. Steve said nothing, but his answer must have been clear on his face, as she
gave a frustrated groan.
"I swear," she muttered. "He can't stop himself. Nothing in my life is sacred in his eyes, everything is up for his scrutiny. And then he has to bother you, as though he has any
right to say anything about you, as though you've done anything worse than he has. Where does he get off-"
Steve watched as she turned around, cutting herself off in her anger, but not going more than three feet away before turning around and coming back. She was worried about
him, he realized. Nikki was honestly angry at Erik for something that she didn't know all the details of. She cared about him enough to defend him, despite what he had done.
Now she was venting and Steve couldn't get in a word edgewise.
"Nikki…"
She didn't seem to hear him as she continued, "If he had hurt you, I swear I-"
So Steve did something he wouldn't have normally down. As she passed by him once more, still pacing as she ranted about Erik, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Pulling
her forward in seconds, his free hand gently angled her face towards his and her words were cut short as his lips crashed down on hers.
Steve couldn't quite rationalize how they had gotten to this point. He remembered her going on about Erik and how he had confronted Steve, remembered the exact moment
when her lips were suddenly against his, but couldn't seem to figure out when the one had become the other.
His hands were at the small of her back, pulling her ever closer to him, while her own were on his shoulders. One of her hands snaked up around his neck and tangled in his
hair, her fingers almost touching where his blonde roots were beginning to show. And she was kissing him back. Her lips were moving against his, her tongue tracing the curve
of his bottom lip tentatively. A gasp escaped him as her nails raked gently across his scalp, his hands tightening on her waist, and Steve had to remind himself not to hold her
too tight for fear of leaving bruises.
It wasn't a fight for dominance when his tongue slipped past her lips, but a slow and tentative rhythm tinged with equal amounts of uncertainty and fervor, and it seemed to
him that kissing her felt natural and almost familiar. She tasted of honey and black coffee and something that he could
only describe as her. He wanted to tell her every
thought that wouldn't form into words, every word that he just couldn't seem to say aloud without stumbling and stuttering them out. He wanted her to know exactly what he
felt.
She gave a sharp gasp as he nipped lightly at her bottom lip, "Steve…"
He groaned as she said his name, the word barely more than a whisper. It was spoken like a secret only they shared. He opened his eyes just a fraction, memorizing how her
dark eyelashes fanned over her cheekbones, and trailed his lips down to her jawline. Her grip on his hair tightened as his mouth met the hollow beneath her ear.
"Steve," she said again, but this time her tone was more steadfast. "Steve, wait."
She pulled him back gently, and he took in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Her chest rose and fell in deep breaths, her pupils blown wide, but there was also doubt mixed
in her expression. She shook her head wordlessly as she worked to bring her thoughts together.
"I can't – I don't…"
Steve's mind inexplicably went to the different preferences he had read about since Freyja had arrived, who had gotten him on the whole topic to begin with, and took half a
step back to look at her. He had gotten the sense that she was interested in him to some degree, but perhaps he was wrong. Or maybe it was more complicated than that.
Either way, he would rather know her reason, as it would do no good to jump to conclusions and shoot himself in the foot.
"Is it because you're not 'into' this kind of thing?"
"No! Well, yes…I just," Nikki broke off with a frustrated groan, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. "I don't even know how to explain this."
"Just try," he said, watching as she put a few more feet between them.
"I think I'm demisexual."
She said it so quickly, Steve almost missed it. He had heard the term before, had even toyed with it a bit when trying to explain his own infrequent sense of attraction, but
couldn't seem to come up with a response. Her worry was practically tangible in the air, and it made him try to think over his words more carefully to find exactly what he
wanted to say without making her apprehension worse. But his silence was apparently only causing her to become more and more anxious.
"That was why Erik had the affair," she said, her words coming quicker now. "I hated that he did it, hated that he lied, but I could understand why. I wasn't attracted to him. I
wasn't attracted to anyone. I tried to fix that, I did, and but I never…the whole reason I had Anya and the twins was because I thought I could fix myself. It didn't make a
difference, in the end.
"I didn't know what was wrong with me. I thought there was something wrong with me, and for a long time I just kind of accepted it. Then we came here, and Douglas starting
wondering about his own identity, and he showed me some of the terms he found. And I realized there was never anything wrong with me, that it's just how some people are.
"Then you showed up. You were compassionate and generous and so damn infuriating. I had no idea how to react with you, and then you look at me like…like that," – she
gestured towards him with a kind of lost expression in her eyes – "and I think of how everything is absolutely mental in my life. I mean, I wasn't attracted to my own husband
and then I think about you and I just…I don't even know how to describe it.
"And there's the timing! My kids are in danger, taken by some neo-Nazi group that's probably experimenting on them, and I need to focus on finding them, not on…this. But it
just sits in the back of my mind, even when I try to focus – but I can't do a fucking thing to help anyone!"
"Nikki…"
He reached forward, taking a step forward, and placed his hands on her shoulders. She seemed to run out of words then, and her dark eyes met his with an unreadable
expression.
"I just can't do this right now," she finished sadly.
"I know," he replied, his hands running down her arms to lace his fingers through hers. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"
"Don't be," she interrupted, the corners of her lips quirked up in a half-smile. "Maybe we can take a raincheck…pick this up when we've fixed everything?"
Steve smiled in return, a part of him focusing on how she said 'we' and not 'I', as he now knew the answer to the question he hadn't found the words to ask. She wasn't
saying nothing could ever happen between them – the exact opposite, he thought with a smile – but that they had to wait. It was for the best. Their priority was finding her
family, and everything else could wait.
"A raincheck sounds perfect."
Skye sat on the lab table, using the actual chair for a footrest, as she watched Fitz pull out a case from the R&D department on the Helicarrier. Simmons was still studying the
blood samples Nikki had given them. The Alchemist herself was seated not too far from Skye, listening intently as Fitz explained the mechanics behind whatever was in the
case.
She was a little older than Skye had expected, as she had tracked any and all information on the vigilante since Coulson first made mention of another human 0-8-4, and a lot
less intimidating than she had been in the few grainy videos. She actually seemed awfully nice for being the same woman who had put Ward out of commission. Actually, the
brief times Skye had talked to her, Nikki had seemed downright friendly, if a little world-weary. But what else could be expected from a woman who had lived through
Auschwitz and something she had called the Weapon X Project.
She did, however, look as though she was running solely on willpower and coffee. For a woman who had been taking care of a house full of abandoned teens, she certainly
hadn't looked all that stressed when they first brought her in two weeks prior. Then again, those two weeks also marked how long HYDRA had held her family prisoner. Skye
supposed anyone in Nikki's position would look a little worn down.
"But why gloves?" Nikki asked, catching Skye's attention. "Why not just make a uniform with sleeves?"
Skye looked up from her Stark-Tablet – because Tony had replaced her iPad the second he had the opportunity, but had the good sense to fill the substitute with all of her music – to see what Nikki was asking about. She had the sleeves of her S.H.I.E.L.D.-standard uniform rolled up almost to her shoulders to make room for the shiny black
gloves. They were fingerless like Skye's or May's, composed of metallic plates that would limit the amount of radiation she had a tendency to give off, but they came to rest
almost four inches above her elbow.
"You'll have to ask Stark," Skye said, drawing Nikki's dark gaze towards herself. "When he dropped by to speak with Coulson, he did a total overhaul of your uniform's design.
Said it looked cooler."
Nikki raised her hand, flexing her fingers, "Wonder what the rest of it looks like…"
Skye smirked, tapping through a few files to pull up the 3-D rendering Tony had uploaded, and turned the screen over to show the older woman. Nikki squinted at the picture
before raising her eyebrows.
"Is that a…cape?"
Skye hid a snicker, watching how even Fitz raised his eyebrows at the design and Simmons looked up from her blood samples. She and Coulson had exchanged incredulous
looks at first sight of it. But Tony had waved off their skepticism, which was a surprising feat given how Coulson had looked at him, and stated that it was both practical and
fit in perfectly with the rest of the Avengers.
"Well, at least I won't look like some kid's fantasy," she murmured.
Skye nodded, pulling up the files she had been looking earlier, "Yeah, he actually said that he designed it that way. After Steve said that you never really wore anything flashy,
and Tony did a
bit of research on the Romani people, he said he wasn't as inconsiderate as to put you in anything that might make you uncomfortable."
"That was considerate of him."
"It happens from time to time."
All four looked up as Coulson walked through the door, his eyes looking over each of them as if to make sure they were actually doing their work. Skye watched how Nikki
smiled at him, one which was more comfortable than the polite smile she gave the other agents, and how he nodded in greeting to her.
"I see R&D scrambled to meet Stark's requests," he said, nodding to the gloves Nikki still wore. "How do they feel?"
"Surprisingly comfortable," she answered. "They're awfully lightweight, but Fitz tells me that they're bulletproof and can deflect a knife at certain angles."
Simmons looked up suddenly, turning to "Do they impede your mutation in any way.
Nikki shook her head, "They shouldn't, aside from tamping down on the radiation problem. As far as Charles and I could understand, most of my abilities are controlled through
conscious thought, with only a few that rely on instinct."
As if to prove her point, she rolled her wrist, water droplets condensing on her fingertips as she loosely curled her fingers.
"Hey, there's something I've always wanted to ask," Skye said suddenly, watching as Nikki blew across her fingertips and the water droplets froze.
"Go ahead," Nikki said with a smile.
"Do you actually have to…" – Skye wiggled her fingers in a sort of lazy pantomime of what Nikki had done – "to actually use yours powers."
Nikki laughed at that, "Not really, no. But, when I was first really trying to get a handle on everything I can do, Charles helped me work out a few techniques to help me better manage exactly what I want to do. The hand gestures help me better visualize things, creating more focus and minimizing the likelihood of accidentally blowing things up."
"It seems as though a lot of your mutation is instinctual," Simmons said. "It's amazing, and I can't exactly explain it, but your cells have adapted to almost half of the
simulations we've run it through. Your body protects itself from your own mutation."
"That would explain how you were unscathed the night you went nuclear," Coulson said. "Even Rogers had a few burns."
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