Not at ALL canon compliant, I just want my wives to be happy this time around (yes, Carol is BLACK in this series and if you don’t like that then don’t read it baby. Hope that helps. 💋)
CW: Mentions of separation and emotional pain, angsty but soooo much fluff, parenthood, lost memories, slight mentions of homophobia but nun too serious, dreaming/day dreaming/remembering, LOTS OF GAY YEARNING, implied mommy/daddy issues, soooooo much exposition LMFAO so sorry for the long paragraphs but that's just how I write lol. Less is not more this time, more is more, so lets all just indulge in some lovesick lesbians. 🥹 in my head they have such a lifeee together, I want to explore it! I want them to be fully rounded people, at least more than we usually get to see in the MCU. also, lets enjoy a fucking happy ending for these two for once PLS (fuck marvel, she will never die). They're happy, Black and Queer and that's all that matters okay!!!!
Word Count: 8,004 🫣
LINK TO AO3!
A/N: I pretty much already laid everything out but thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read something I wrote. I hope it can help ease your mind or at least give you a break (who doesn't love some good ol' escapism lmao). Take care of yourself, drink some water pls and stay safe. I hope you enjoy. 💗
(Also pls ignore any formatting issues, I wrote this on my laptop so it looks different on the app😭 sorry y’all!!)
˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆.˚̣̇✧.⋆ ✶˖·˳.✦ .˚
The August heat had no challenge sneaking its way through the dimly lit room and in-between the two women, who also had no problem sticking to each other. The closer, the better, they both agreed without having too. It had been nearly silent sans the soft howl of the wind and the sound of breathing coming from the two, for at least 45 minutes now, maybe longer. The brown skinned woman pressed against the superhero's chest stirred softly as the wind kissed her sweet, relaxed face gently, not seeming to wake her. Nows the time, the hero thought to herself as she skillfully snuck from under the woman and placed her gently on her side, tugging her own pillow under her arm to replace her body and pulled the sheet over her nearly bare shoulders. She almost planted a kiss on her forehead but forced herself against it.
She tiptoed, almost comedically, around the edge of the bed and past the open window. She was mindful with every step, intentionally avoiding the floor boards she memorized, knowing they would creak and wake the sleeping woman. She made it nearly to the door before she was startled and exhaled sharply.
"Don't you even think about leaving yet, Danvers."
The still half sleep but always on point Maria shoots at the woman attempting to sneak out the bedroom door, still in the position her spouse lovingly placed her in without even opening her eyes or turning around to face the woman. A move she's pulled on both Carol and Monica many times, to their utter frustration and to her own satisfaction. Her voice is raspy and playful, but holds a level of something that neither are ready to fully acknowledge, yet.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Rambeau. Just have to pee."
Carol winked out as she continued her step forward as she hears Maria accept this answer and shift back to comfort, less careful to avoid the creaking floor boards this time. The hero in her scolds herself for being able to take down entire intergalactic warships without alerting anybody on board before its too late - but yet again, she can't get one over on the sleeping woman. She scoffs and relaxes her shoulders as she walks through the upstairs halls, lightening her steps as she passes Monica's room. She smiles inward, seeing "Lt. Trouble" still scribbled near the bottom on the door in blue crayon. No one had the heart to clean it off, nor felt the need to either.
God, she missed this. She missed her family. She missed her, and how warm and natural it felt to just be Carol Danvers. She also missed not leaving behind a trail of disappointment and anxiety for her family to pick up after her. They did their best but how was anybody supposed to balance life, the military, parenting and being a tween with... well, a literal supernova? Not to mention the things they were purposefully not mentioning.
Carol felt herself losing her grip on the stress she had been pushing down for what felt like years but especially the past few days as her return to earth approached, as she sat in the bathroom, long since having peed and washed up. She sat on the edge of the bear claw tub they had dreamed about having together when Monica was first born. They were both so excited when they had found a house that had one. The perfect home. They had always talked about living together when they were growing up, happy to be able to put their military salaries together and buy a house instead of living in barracks or renting apartments like they did in college. Maria, still just her "friend" at the time (although she wasn't sure what they were now, after everything, she thought), said she always wanted to be able to give her child a 'proper' bath like her mother had given her growing up. Rubber ducks and all. It was one of her only happy memories growing up. Carol herself, felt delighted that any child, but especially one who was lucky enough to be coming from this woman, would be treated so lovingly. She was earnest to make all of Maria and Monica's dreams come true, even before she could shoot fire or whatever from her hands. Carol and Maria shared an unspoken agreement with each other while she was pregnant with Monica, and probably long before that. It won't be like how it was for us. We won't let her grow up not knowing she's loved, not knowing someones there to protect her.
She ran her fingers along the curved porcelain edge, remembering how it felt to take baths as a family, even before they knew that's what they really were. Monica's hair curling tight, smelling like the soft baby shampoo Maria was gently rubbing through her hair. The soft kisses they left on her face. The soapy smiles they shared, scrunched up in their bathing suits trying to fit comfortably even though there really wasn't enough space. Not daring to let it ever be anything more than a smile or a laugh. Until they did. Until everything was covered in soap and love. Carol didn’t remember that part yet.
It had taken the pair a long time to realize exactly what they were doing, which frustrated most people who spent more than two seconds around them. They were both well respected for the most part for being women in the armed forces, and widely well liked for their similar and yet somehow opposite personalities. Both so bold and daring. Their differences balanced them out, making them the perfect team - perfect for each other, most people agreed. Despite the times, somehow they both seemed to evade the homophobia of both the armed forces and their peers. Even most of the neighborhood was waiting on them to just say it, do it, be what they already were. Yet, both of them being too stubborn for their own good and equally oblivious, persisted - mainly to themselves - that they were just good friends, copilots and roommates. After Monica was born, they were all of that and coparents but in a 'best friend' way, whatever that meant. They never humored the conversations, they didn't even stick around to hear them - which was quite the feat, being that the entire town was having the conversation for them. They couldn't, though, could they? If they listened too long, if they looked too closely at the thought, daring to touch the idea even slightly, even just to make a joke out of it - they both knew they would crumble. Because it wasn't a joke, it wasn't something they could continue to ignore then. It would end up being only one of two things, in their shared minds:
It could have been nothing. Maybe one felt these things and the other just, didn't. Maybe one of them really was a deplorable, hellbent sinner as they had both been taught but never agreed with, and maybe the other one was just a good, innocent woman, unaware to her friends inner workings. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But finding out, for a long time, felt too much of a risk. The rejection would burn them too much. Neither wanted to risk losing what they did have, the home in each other they both desperately needed. They had been best friends since they were 6, Carol being just a few weeks older but never letting the other forget it - though no one ever believed her. April and May. Just a few sunrises and sun sets separated the days they were born. They were instantly joined at the hip as much as they could be. Maria always carried herself in a more grounded way, but always loved Carols way of always being a million feet off the ground. They both were secretly jealous of the years other people had with them as girls, that they didn't get to have together. 6 years of being on earth and not knowing of the other felt like an injustice, especially now after everything that had happened - another 6 years that kept them apart. Their time together on this planet was so, so precious to both of them. They both always wanted more. Which was why neither was willing to risk what they had already made together. Truth is, they had loved each other since the moment they met. It changed, over time, in different ways. But it was always there, waiting to be what was always meant to be. That's what scared them. So they didn't look too closely, and they played pretend for years. Growing from girls who looked at each other too long, to teens who held hands when they walked, to women who fought for each other tooth and nail at every instance, to who they were before the accident and who they were now. They had a life and they wanted to keep it safe. It was their most precious thing, aside from Monica, who made it all the more important.
But, neither could really ever commit to that way of living either. Neither wanted to face the possible rejection but neither wanted to give up on the prospect of possibility number two, either; The 'maybe' that said "I can't imagine a life where loving you is the wrong thing. A life where you are not for me and I am not for you, wholly, in every conceivable way. I can't imagine a life without you, at all". The one where they kissed and breathed into eachother and finally touched - not for too long but not for long enough no matter how much time it was, and it worked and the heavens opened up and the stars all shined brighter and space and time and everything else stopped mattering - nearly stopped existing if not to give them a world to live in together, and it was just them. It was always just them. It was always just her, they would both think. They would both know.
Needless to say, once they finally caught on (or were forced into each other, perhaps), no one batted an eye or said a word to the contrary. Finally, they all agreed, things were as they should be. It was a good few years, everything was right. But then the accident happened and everything changed, all over again.
Carol laughed to herself, reminiscing back as far as her sleep deprived mind would take her. Thinking about all the times she had made herself stupid or awkward around Maria, despite how comfortable they both were with each other - forgetting that the woman already knew how she felt. Forgetting that she was the one who had forgot what they were to each other. How she fumbled around trying to be Monica's parent, without ever being asked to - without ever being asked not to, she affirmed to herself every chance she could. Monica was her daughter to the same degree that she was Maria's, the woman always reminded her.
"Just because you didn't pop her out doesn't mean she isn't yours. Look at her, she's just like you! I will not take responsibility for all of it!" Maria would say, laughing that sweet laugh whenever Monica would act up or do something so Carol-like. An earnest laugh, hoping Carol would not just hear her but know she was telling the truth.
Carol sighed, standing up and looking in the mirror. She was tired, in ways that sleep wouldn't fix, but she did feel sleepy. She ran cool water over the backs of her hands, trying to give herself reprieve from the heat in the air. She dried her hands on towels with all of their colorful names messily embroidered into them (one of Maria's hobbies while she was pregnant) and rubbed over them with her thumb. She was grateful to have so much to remember, she thought. It must have been a rich life, so full of love. She could tell, even before the memories had started coming back. The love was built into the home, every inch held a part of her that she just had to look at, pick up, feel. They had never let her go. She smiled and felt a pang of longing run through her as she let the towel go. She walked back down the hall and made her way to her bed. Made her way home.
"Took you long enough. C'mere."
Maria said, not asking but telling, sleepiness filling every word. She grabbed at Carol's collar and tugged, not entirely gently but not rough either. Carol laughed as she laid down, facing her best friend and scooting under the light sheet with her back to the breeze as it wrippled against the teeshirt she found in the things Maria had pulled out the closet for her. She used to keep Carol's things in the dresser with hers, like they used to be, but it felt too painful after a while. Now she just wasn't ever sure how long the woman would be staying and made the excuse to herself that she needed the space for her own things, when really she just didn't want to have another physical reminder of the woman's absence as the days passed and piled into months. They hadn't slept in the same bed in so long, but even through the obvious ignoring they were both doing about where their relationship stood, they both felt comfortable enough (or maybe desperate enough) to cuddle. They had always slept together, even as kids, whenever they could. It had helped them both get through a lot of tough things as girls, and they kept close to each other all throughout the years they spent growing up. Their sleep overs were sacred to them, they would build forts and pretend they were living in far away places - away from what life was like for them where they were, grateful to have each other. Their second semester in college they finally beat down the housing office to just let them share a room, figuring it made sense since they both slept in each others room nearly every night anyways. They had pushed their beds together the whole rest of their time in school, only moving them apart for the one big argument they had. How silly, they both thought at the same time, not knowing they were both reminiscing in the same direction.
"I thought you were asleep."
Carol prodded, kicking her socks off.
"You always think I'm asleep before you try to sneak out."
Maria teased, eyes still closed but her hand finding it's way to Carols forearm, trying not to squeeze.
"I mean, you were snoring. Were you not asleep?"
"Hey! I don't snore. And yes, but that's besides the point. You just suck at sneaking out, you always did."
Maria nudges Carol playfully, knowing she would get a response.
"Alright now, you try sneaking out of a preachers house in the middle of the night. That second story jump was no joke on my prepubescent knees! I didn't even have my powers! And you do in fact snore, hate to break it to ya'."
Carol returns the nudge, mindful to be 'human gentle' not 'super human gentle' as both Maria and her daughter would say. This created a small space between them that both were ready to fill. Maria did first, per usual, eyes opening to smirk.
"Whatever you say, Danvers. What's your excuse now? Aren't you supposed to be like... light on your feet?"
She laughed, pulling herself into the woman in front of her without a beat. She didn't need any extra breathing room. The multiple galaxies she was used to having between them had been much more than enough for her. She decided to let any awkwardness that was between them from earlier in the night when dinner was over and Monica went to bed sit on the sidelines for now, they could deal with it tomorrow. She knew she should've brought it up, but she settled for hearing about Carol's adventures and missions instead. She listened for as long as she could stay awake, trying to balance her awe with her jealousy quietly. Right now, she was sleepy and needed the comfort only Carol could provide.
"Very funny. How do you even do that? One second you're asleep, the next second you're catching me in the act. Are you hiding some super powers I should know about?"
Carol laughed, wanting to talk more, selfishly. They were both tired and Maria had work tomorrow that she couldn't get out of, but they were both tired of not being with each other even more.
"I don't need super powers. I'm a mother, sweetheart."
Maria said matter-of-factly, rubbing her hand over Carol's then turning over and scooting her back against the woman, making herself the little spoon. Once again leaving no space. It was almost too familiar for both of them. Carol had to fight the urge to touch her in places, in ways, that friends wouldn't. She settled her hand on the woman's side respectfully, not knowing Maria was yearning for more than that, even if it was just a little more.
"How come I didn't get those mama powers then? Is it biological?"
Carol jokes, pulling Maria impossibly closer without thinking, resting her chin on the woman's shoulder. She wasn't sure about it while being completely sure at the same time. Maria didn't bat an eye, thankful for the contact. "This is normal, I can be normal. She's just Carol. Just the same, just also not. Keep it light, Rambeau." She reminded herself with an exhale before she spoke.
"Dont’cha think you have enough powers? Plus, you're basically a child anyways. You and Mon' are more alike than anyone could've imagined."
The brown skinned woman answered, rubbing her thumb over Carol's hand in a circle mindlessly. Trying to fight the sleep weighing her eyes down just as much as she fought the urge to turn over, pull the woman in and kiss her so deeply. She felt Carol's breath on her skin and reveled in it. God, I missed this, she thought.
"Ha, I'll let that one slide for tonight. I guess I'll just have to work on my sneaking skills."
She resigned happily, knowing the woman was right (although she would be hearing about it tomorrow), but also knowing Maria was more of a superhero than anyone she had ever met, including literal superheroes. She let out a breath and shuffled to get comfortable, leaving a soft whisper of a kiss on Maria's shoulder, no more than the idea of it as her lips grazed her skin every so slightly and pulling her in close again, chest to impossibly soft back.
"Good luck, Captain Marvel. I can always feel you coming and I can always feel you leaving."
Maria said, half awake. They both knew she was only half joking, for the sake of the night. It stung them both in a deep, hidden away part of their hearts. They were both so much more than tired.
"I missed you, Rambeau."
Carol whispered, almost too low, not sure if she wanted the woman to hear her or not. She was almost sure she hadn't.
"More than you even know, Danvers."
Maria replied just as quietly, finally letting sleep take hold of her body. She hoped she would dream something sweet, sweet enough to hold her over until she could wake up and finally be next to the woman she loved. A morning she prayed for every day, even if it might not ever be the way it was. Even if they were never lovers or girlfriends or partners or whatever they were again, this could be enough for her, she thought. She missed her friend just as much as she missed the woman she wanted to marry, so it would have to be enough. She hoped, knowing she had to make herself believe it.
Carol fought her sleep, trying to take in every moment, counting every breath they took in unison, trying to memorize the faint constellations of freckles on Maria's skin. She missed the way she smelled, the way she felt, the way she looked at any angle. The weight of her body against her own. She wasn't sure what she was going to say or do tomorrow, feeling the same weight she had felt all those years of not knowing. She wasn't sure what she knew and what she didn't anymore, but she knew she didn't want to lose what she had just gotten back, even if it meant playing pretend again. She would do it every day for the rest of her life, if it meant she could be with Maria and Monica in any way. She sighed to herself, having to let it just be what it is in the moment. She didn't want to miss even a second more than she already had. But even super humans need to sleep, so she drifted off slowly, giving up the fight eventually knowing she would wake up and still be there. She was finally home. Finally.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦.
The sun beating through the window was unforgiving to both women's desire to sleep in and pretend the world wasn't waiting for them. Much like the two of them, greeting the day felt opposite for once. Maria would drag herself through her day of dealing with white men in suits and making more decisions than any one person should really be making (but she was the best one to do it, whether the men agreed or not - although, the smart ones did), longing as usual to make it home. At least today she would have the excitement of making it home on a Friday evening after a longer than ever week, to not only her daughter who was on summer break for a few more weeks, but to her person. Carol, on the other hand, would take on the somewhat daunting responsibility of taking care of a small human tween (which should be easier than a non human child, right?) who just happened to be her daughter, and any other domestic duties about the house and the land. She was grateful for this level of domesticity, eager to wash dishes, do laundry, mow some grass and make her best attempt at cooking for her and Monica. Although, a part of her did feel intimidated. Sure, she could do pretty much anything but she hadn't just been a stay at home mom in a long time. A lot of the time she did spend doing it, pre-powers, she was still fighting to remember. She was happy as the memories made their way back to her, triggered by smells and sounds, old pictures and falling back into routines like muscle memory. She had most of it back, it had been a few years since everything happened. But she was excited when something new (or really, just old) popped back into her mind. She always wrote them down, secretly, making sure she would never lose such precious moments again. As the light made its way across her face, she didn’t want to give into the brightness she felt disrupting her sleep. She wanted just a little more.
She dreamt of Monica running through a wide field, sun shining and bubbles blowing into the air. She was younger, in the dream, than she was now. Carol felt bittersweet at the time she had missed but grateful that her daughter was growing, existing in such an unapologetic way. As Monica ran through the field, Carol watched her, aviators blocking the bright sun as she sat on the steps of their home, arms behind her as she thought of all the ways life was perfect in this moment. Maria walked out the screen door with drinks in her hand. A way too sweet lemonade for Monica and Carol, a lemon iced tea for herself. She bent down and kissed Carol on the top of her head, sitting next to her and handing her a drink. Carol sipped it, tasting a familiar sweetness as she pulled her sunglasses over her head, resting them in her soon to be tangled hair. Maria could make even the simplest things taste so good, she thought to herself, never having to say a word. They laughed as Maria called Monica over, before sipping her own drink. They looked up at each other with such knowing eyes, longing for connection. In this dream, there was no confusion, there was no awkwardness or uncertainty of certain boundaries. They leaned in to each other, ready to kiss as they both had a million times before, just as Monica skipped over and said "ewwww" and giggled in the way only she could. She sat between them and they all looked up at the setting sun, normal and happy and sure of all of it. Monica leaned her head on Carol's knee and sang whatever song she had learned in school that day. The mother's both filled with joy, bubbling up over top of them and pouring out of them. They were happy. They leaned in and kissed, finally, and it was as if nothing could ever be wrong.
As the sun broke through the drafty curtains and the shadows moved across the room letting the light sprawl across the women, Maria began to stir. She always woke up before her alarm clock, always against her will. She had been like that forever. This morning though, she didn't roll over to turn it off before it went off. She was just becoming aware of how softly entangled she was with Carols body, gratefully taking in the way the woman's skin meshed with her own. Through sleepy eyes she almost couldn't tell where hers ended and Carol's began. It was nice. Nicer than nice. It was right again. As it should be, she thought. She smoothed her hand over Carol's shoulder, realizing they had found their way to facing each other through the night. They were both sort of sweaty from the heat but unrelenting in holding each other, making sure most parts of them were touching no matter what. She looked over the woman, eyes running over the contours of her face and down her body, landing on her hips and running back up again to her bed head. No matter how many times Maria bought her a scarf or bonnet, she wouldn't wear it. She always said she couldn't sleep if she felt restricted, even though she would complain about having to detangle her curls every day. But she knew there was no way she was doing all that in space before and after every mission, she thought with an internal laugh. She was sure she just wanted easier access for Maria's fingers to find their way in and rub her head every night when she was home, just like it was before she was a space cadet. Besides, they slept like they were tied in a knot together - neither ever felt restricted then. She made a mental note to braid her hair back later, so at least she could avoid the tangles - even though she knew she would have to do it over and over again as it grew frizzy in the southern humidity. She tried to remember what she had dreamed about as she continued looking at the woman. She always dreamt about the two of them, sometimes it was good and sweet like them sitting on the front steps together watching Monica play, sometimes it was scary and dark, like the day she lost her all over again. No matter what it was, she always dreamed vividly when Carol was away - like she was living the moments herself. It had both helped and hindered her grieving, so lucidly living two lives: one where Carol was hers always, and one where she was still hers but wasn't there. Wasn't anywhere, she was afraid of for so long. She would wake up sweating with tears down her face every time, sometimes happy tears and sometimes not, but they always puddled in her when she regained consciousness, breaking the dam she built every day to contain herself. But whenever Carol did return to their house, it was like nothing could be sweeter or more real - sometimes even more daunting - than having her home, so she never dreamed when she slept in the same house as the woman, even when she tried. She was slightly startled out of her thoughts when Carol spoke up in her slightly raspy but almost innocent sleepy voice that Maria loved so much.
"Take a picture, it'll last ya' longer, ma'am."
She smirked at Maria with only one eye half way open, vision still blurry. Maria smiled big, white teeth on full display before she rebutted.
"That's my line. You always tryna be like me."
She said, pretending to flip her hair over her shoulder even though it was wrapped in her signature lilac satin scarf. It was her favorite color, even though no one ever expected it to be. No one ever expected her to be as soft as she was, for a lot of reasons, but mainly because she would never let them. No one but Carol, and even sometimes her too. The color reminded her of her mother, and she held onto it with both hands.
Both women smiled while Carol rubbed her eyes with one hand, holding Maria's with the other to the woman's surprise.
"Who wouldn't wanna be just like thee one and only Maria Rambeau."
Carol replied sincerely, planting a kiss on her hand. Maria felt a warm blush run over her face, a feeling no one else could produce in her. They locked eyes for a moment before Maria broke it.
She remembered that she had to go to work and her alarm would go off any second. She remembered that Carol would have to leave again, probably soon although they hadn't talked about it yet. She had only gotten home last night, just in time for dinner, with flowers in her hand that she had probably picked from some unsuspecting person's garden and a big smile. She also remembered the elephant in the room. They hadn't talked about their relationship, neither wanting to waste a moment together or risk Monica hearing them. They hadn't kissed or been intimate either, in far too long for both of them although they would never let on, unsure of where they stood though they both longed for each other in ways they couldn't even find enough words to describe if they tried. They had been too occupied on whatever was going on in front of them every time they had the chance to see each other since Carol came back. They had both been nervous to approach the subject, and had thus settled for somewhat awkward but 100% needy hugs and cheek kisses so far. Maria had all but tackled the woman when she first came home, after she was sure it was okay for her to embrace her. Even the last few times Carol was home, it had only been for a day or maybe two here and there every few months and after a while it had been almost a year. Carol made it home this time just 6 days shy of 12 months away. She had sent Monica and Maria flowers on their birthdays (quite strange to call some obscure flower shop in Louisiana from a communication device that could call almost anybody in the universe). All three had been surprised she even remembered their birthdays, let alone her own. They had lit a candle and blown it out together for Carol on her birthday, both sadly eating a cupcake and watching sit coms together that night. Maria had let Monica stay up later than normal out of sympathy for the young girl and maybe more so out of not wanting to be alone on a day they usually spent together for the past few decades. The flowers had notes promising to celebrate their birthdays when she made it back across the universe, addressed to 'Lt. Trouble' and 'The only Taurus I'll ever like, Captain Rambeau' which got a somber but real laugh out of both of them. But before all that, it was 6 years in-between when Carol went missing (or "died" as the Air Force liked to refer to it). Carol took a few weeks to even question if they were ever 'more than friends', so Maria played her part as the woman's best friend as she had for many years before. Carol was only brave enough to ask once, after they had hugged and already said their 'see ya laters'. Something in the way they embraced made her look at the woman and remember. She remembered more then than she had ever been able to. She placed a nervous hand on Maria's face and touched their foreheads together, desperate to understand, letting a tear roll down her cheek. She had started to ask but it got stuck in her throat, so Maria had wiped her cheek and gave her that all knowing smile. "Shh. Don't. We'll figure it out later. Go save the world, or the Universe. I'll be here when you get back, baby." She had whispered it so Monica wouldn't register it but she probably had. As they parted, Carol turned away and lifted off, knowing she had to rip herself away that very instance or she may never take flight again. Only turning back once she was far in the air, but not too far to look down and see Monica and Maria still standing there, holding each other while Monica pointed up at the sky. All Carol could manage was a final wave before she left the atmosphere faster than she could think.
Baby sat in Carol's mind for months after the fact, replaying it every free second she had. It played in Maria's too. She wasn't sure if she should've said it but she needed to say something or she thought she might drown in the thick Louisiana air. She missed her partner more than she had been really been able to endure, but at least she had her friend back, she reminded herself, so she did. She pushed forward, every day, knowing at least her Carol was out there somewhere and she'd have another chance. At least Monica had two parents again, kind of. Now, even though they hadn't talked about it, they had eased back into a different type of relationship, it just still wasn't exactly the same. It was and wasn't enough for the both of them. But it was also hard to purposefully face more difficult things when there was years worth of catching up to do, a shared daughter to raise, and entire galaxies between them more often than not. Most times Carol was home, all their time went to just being a family for as long as they could from sun up to the inevitable sun down.
Remembering all of this sent a small shiver up her spine and she refocused. She playfully pushed the woman's shoulder trying to break the tension she was sure they both felt and sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed right before her alarm went off. She felt flustered and borderline frustrated that Carol could be so goddamn charming even when she wasn't trying to be. Even with bed head and only partly aware of who she even was. She turned the alarm off after one beep and sighed, leaning her head back and yawning.
Carol missed her body being next to hers, aching at the abrupt disconnection between their skin. She watched as Maria pulled on an old oversized Air Force teeshirt over her bra and stood up, putting on her her pajama shorts with Santa on them that they had all pulled out last night with Monica, and started stretching. She knew why Maria pulled away, equally aware that there was much between them that needed tending too. She too, didn't want to keep living like they weren't even just a little bit more than friends, like they used to - only this time they both knew it wasn't true. Carol did remember somethings, she remembered - no, she knew what it felt like to be in love, to kiss, to be more than this. Only know, neither knew if that's what the other wanted back anymore, if the feelings remained. Carol was truthfully not even sure she was remembering correctly but she so badly hoped she was. So much time had passed, maybe things had changed in more ways than what was visible. It was almost worse, that way, wasn't it?
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While Maria was in the shower and getting ready, Carol made her way downstairs. Monica was still asleep but she would be up soon, always getting up just a bit after Maria did even when she was on break from school. She always said she didn't want to miss any 'explorin'' time, which could mean a plethora of things knowing Monica.
Carol walked down the stairs and looked out the front door, rubbing her eyes to adjust to the light. The sun was just fully making its way to the sky, creating moving shadows across the living room through the windows. It was beautiful. The house was so still, but so full of comfort. She walked over the the front door and looked out, opening the first door and then peaking her toes out the screen door. The days heat wasn't yet fully upon them, and she could smell the dewy grass all around them. Out of all the expansive space and all the planets she had seen, there was nothing like a deep southern morning to make you remember how beautiful things can be, she thought.
She questioned with herself whether she should check the mail, not sure if it was appropriate for her to do so. She knew there wouldn't be anything for her, as most of the people on the planet that even knew she existed either thought she was dead or forgot about her entirely. For a moment, she felt a wave of grief roll through her. She wanted normal again for the first time in a long time. She would even settle for the not really normal 'normal' that the Air Force provided. She would settle for a piece of mail, waiting for her to open, sitting in the mailbox she shared with her companion and child. Even if it was just jury duty or some scam trying to get her to get a credit card. She wanted it all back so bad, sometimes it made her forget why she ever left the planet in the first place. How much more justice did she have to bring to the universe before she could just be a human again? She reveled in what mundane life could be like, how exciting the not exciting routine of working a regular job, taking a kid to school and watching tv could be. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. It was too early in the day to have an existential crisis.
Thankfully, she turned around when she heard smaller feet pitter pattering against the hardwood floors upstairs and making their way down each stair not so gracefully. She smiled and nearly teleported over to the stairs to catch Monica before she jumped, as they always did. She lifted the girl, zooming her around the living room like she was flying. The once still room was now filled with matching giggles from both of them, just affirming Maria's comment about the two of them being almost too much alike to not actually be related.
"Good morning, Lt. Trouble! What's on the agenda today?"
Carol asked as she made her way into the kitchen and sat Monica on the edge of the counter top with a sound effect.
"Reporting for duty, Captain! Today's agenda includes catching more frogs and naming them, finishing my blueprints for my next invention, and climbing the big tree!"
Monica exclaimed, somehow still giggling. She kicked her feet back and forth as she sat, looking up at the woman before her with eyes bigger than they'd ever been. She was purely happy to have her mother home, and had no intention of leaving her side - which meant Carol would just have to catch the frogs and climb the tree, all while offering supportive feedback on the next Rambeau invention. Carol smiled at this, knowing all too well she had a busy day ahead of her. She always struggled to say no to both of the Rambeaus' in her life.
"Is breakfast on the agenda, too?"
Maria asked with a laugh, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter top next to Monica.
"Uhhh, sure but only if youuu cook it mama."
Monica says, trying not to hurt Carol's feelings but being authentic.
"Ouch! Is my cooking really that bad?"
Carol half laughs, half interrogates the pair in front of her. They both look at each other and somehow wince and smile at the same time. Maria points to the scorch marks above the stove left in wake of Carol's last attempt to cook dinner. It was Spaghetti, mind you. Carol laughs defeatedly.
"Hey! You can't prove it was me! Plus it came out good!"
"Yeah, after I remade it!"
Maria laughs out loud.
"Oh hush. It'll be good! I'll make my famous pancakes for you, and you'll both love them! Isn't that right Lt. Trouble?"
Monica looks at Maria, who just shrugs with a smile that says "good luck kid", before she answers.
"Give it your best shot, Captain."
She says with a smile. Carol accepts it, knowing they're right. As she laughs, she turns to the cupboards and looks around for pancake mix. Monica whispers to her other mother who is staring lovingly at Carol's back, watching her shirt lift up in the back as she reaches up to find what she's looking for.
"If I eat mama's breakfast, can I watch extra tv tonight?"
Maria fights back a laugh before nodding silently.
"I have super hearing too, remember?"
Carol says without turning around, still shuffling through the cabinet. Maria and Monica chuckle as Maria tussles Monica's hair and walks over to the other side of the kitchen.
"Wrong cabinet, Captain."
Maria teases as she turns on her coffee machine that she prepped the night before. Carol smiles and Monica grabs a new box of cereal from the cupboard above her and jumps down to sit at the table and starts solving the puzzles on the back.
Everything is good, its calm and lighthearted. Carol starts measuring ingredients (a few too many for boxed pancake mix) and starts whipping them together. Monica is sure that Carol added too many eggs, which she didn't really need to use but insists that it makes them fluffier, and continues with her puzzles. Maria looks through paperwork while she waits for her coffee. Once it's done brewing, she walks over to the cupboard that's right next to Carol and reaches up to grab her favorite mug. Carol's eyes meet the woman's chest as she reaches up and she almost doesn't look away. When she does, she hopes Maria hadn't caught her looking. She did, of course. She never misses a beat, but she chooses not to address it for how it might undo her whole morning routine. She daydreams about the woman pulling her in by her waist while she's reaching up, picking her up and kissing her. Rolling against the counter. She misses how they used to start their mornings, before Monica was awake. Passionate but slow, never rushing through movements even though they both risked being late. Maria shakes her head as she catches Carol's eyes on her way back down, daring to peak back at her again in an attempt to mask the first time. They both offer up soft and innocent smiles before carrying on. Carol whips the batter a little harder, almost too hard, feeling the whisk crack in her hand. At the same time, Maria spills a bit of coffee on her hand as she walks away, fighting to steady herself against her own thoughts. Monica watches them, laughing to herself as they both try to clean up their little messes.
"Allllrighty, first ones in."
Carol excites as she pours batter into a way too hot pan, hearing it sizzle. Everyone knows its going to burn, but Carol will make the excuse that its the first pancake and they all do that. Maria give a reassuring "mhm" over her mug as she chuckles, trying to support the woman. Monica will point out that Maria's never burn, and they'll all laugh while Carol ignores it, fidgeting away with the spatula.
When she pours the second one, she makes a cute M shape. It's messy but you can clearly make out what its meant to be, for the most part, and that's enough of a triumph for her. While it cooks, she pulls out a baby blue plate and the syrup from the cabinet she was in before and sets them on the table for Monica.
"Voila! Special delivery for Lt. Trouble!"
She slides the misshaped, almost burned but not quite pancake onto the plate with a big cheesy smile. A smile Maria takes in fully while she can, while Carol's focus is on Monica. Monica claps and digs in, opting to rip it up with her hands and dip it into the syrup rather than use a fork. Carol slides her a napkin.
"Wow! It actually tastes like food!"
Monica congratulates Carol, not meaning it to be a backhanded compliment like how it sounds, and lands a genuine a high-five on the woman's bigger hand.
"You know what? I'll take what I can get!"
Carol laughs.
"Can I whip you up a magical pancake, Captain Rambeau?"
Maria smiles, finishing her coffee and checking her watch. She was almost running late, which almost never happens. She was almost thankful to avoid another one of Carol's creations, but she would eat the pancake too if it meant she had more time with her girls.
"I'll have to take a raincheck. I gotta head out. Seems like the world always needs saving."
She smiled apologetically, walking over to place her empty cup in the sink. She leans down and plants a kiss on Monica's forehead, pulling her hair back from her face. She looks up to see Carol already looking at her, unsure of how they should part ways. Would a hug be too much? The kiss they both wanted danced between them, but they wouldn't dare. Monica watched them over her plate, interested to see how they would handle this too. She remembers more than Carol does, and more than Maria knows.
In an attempt to quell the impending awkwardness, Maria reaches out and pats Carols shoulder softly, before deciding that that's too friend zone-y. She slides her hand down the woman's arm to her hand and squeezes it twice, tighter the second time. She smiles and it means "It's good to have you home". Carol smiles back, and it means "I'm happy to be here, too". Maria walks towards the door and pulls on her jacket and puts her sunglasses on, aviators just like Carol's old ones in the box of belongings they kept. It makes Carol smile to herself, thinking about her dream.
"Not too much trouble today, okay Mon'?" Maria says, without fully turning around to acknowledge the two. She doesn't want to leave but someone's got to lead SWORD and she might actually need the time away to think.
"I can handle it, don't worry Captain."
Carol whistles out, smiling at Monica as she finishes her pancake rolling her eyes. The door closes behind Maria and she feels the sun on her face and lets out a happy sigh.
"I know."
She says, mostly to herself, but she remembers that super hearing too.
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PART 2!
hi my loves. I wrote this whole thing, and realized it was incredibly long so I'm breaking it into two parts. you won't have to wait too long, I'll post it tomorrow! I sincerely hope you enjoyed this and I hope you read the next part when it's posted. please lmk what you think! I appreciate any and all feedback so pls pls pls lmk what you think!
I'll also be posting this to ao3 later today as well, and will add the second chapter on there as well. Also lmk if anybody wants to be tagged in part 2?? Idk lol. thank you for reading!!! 💕
Monica clicked through the channels on the hospital’s TV. Her mom was getting released from the hospital today. Every day since her mom was diagnosed with cancer, Monica felt like she was holding the breath in her lungs. When her mom was on the surgery table, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. But when Monica was told the surgery was a success, that her mom was in recovery and she could go and see her, Monica suddenly felt like she could fly. Like every breath she held inside was now the wing beneath her wings. And now, finally Monica knew that everything was okay with her mom and she can go back home. Now she knew she wasn’t going to lose her mom.
Release day was a good day and nothing could ruin that for her.
She stopped on the news channel. ‘Tony Stark, Spiderman and anonymous man taken in a spaceship’, the headline read.
Maria lifted an eyebrow, “an alien kidnapping? I thought the invasion was bad.” Maria stretched out a hand to reach for her phone, “SWORD should know about this.”
Monica slapped her hand away from the phone. “I’m sure they do,” Monica reassured her mother, pocketing the phone. Monica hadn’t really noticed what a workaholic her mom was before. Monica usually worked with her mom and she liked it. It was hard to be critical of something you like to do. But now that she had to drag her mom back to resting, it was clear as day; her mom loved working a little too much. Carol had joked ‘like mother like daughter’ . She was probably right. “And if not, maybe we can tell mom. Page her something like ‘hey, look out for an eccentric superhero billionaire on your way home’.”
Maria smiled, “Fury doesn’t like it when we do that.” Then she mimicked their former boss, in a deep voice, “they’re the Avengers, they can handle it.”
Monica laughed. The Fury impression reminded her of when her mother would read stories to her as a kid, how she would make her laugh with voices she made. “Well, he was right,” Monica pointed out, lifting the blanket up to her mother’s neck, “so calm down and enjoy your release day.”
Maria huffed, “fine.”
Soon, her mother’s eyelids began to drift close. Not long after, Monica followed suit.
5 Times Monica and Her Mom Have Difficult Conversations About Auntie Carol (+1 Time She Plans A Parent Trap With Her Skrull Friend)
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ao3
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1
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When Monica is five years old, her mom and Auntie Carol don’t come home in time for dinner.
This is unusual, they’re always home in time for dinner. But that day they aren’t.
She’d known something was weird before that, when the phone rang while she was playing Planes and Pilots with her bears Bessie and Jerrie, and Grandma almost dropped the phone and then pulled the cord until she could talk from the other side of the door. But it wasn’t anything that was important.
She’d thought so at first anyway.
But when Monica starts asking for cookies Grandma actually gives them to her instead of making her wait until she’s eaten her lunch. And then she doesn’t start getting ready for her mom and auntie to come home. And then Grandpa comes over to watch her too, and that only ever happens when Mom and Auntie Carol have to work on Sundays.
By then something has started clawing inside Monica, it feels like there’s a cat trapped in her stomach and trying to scratch everything in its sight. Grandma and Grandpa are so quiet.
She spends almost the whole evening just trying to draw but none of the colors look right and even though she’s big now, there’s frustrated tears at the edges of her eyes that she’s holding back by sheer stubbornness.
By the time the front doors finally open, Monica’s eyelids are beginning to grow heavy and her head is tucked into Grandma’s lap. She shoots up straight and is off the couch like a rocket before those doors get a chance to close.
“Mom!” Monica exclaims as she rushes into the hallway but stops short at the sight of her mom.
There’s tear tracks on her mom’s cheeks and she’s clutching at the wall like she’ll fall if she lets go. And she’s all alone.
“Mom?” She asks, suddenly so scared she doesn’t know what to do.
“Hey, honey.” Mom says, voice hoarse, and drops to her knees in front of Monica. She smiles at her, but it’s small and weak and only makes Monica more scared. “Let me talk to Grandma and Grandpa for a minute, and then- then I have to tell you something. Okay?”
“Where’s Auntie Carol?” Monica says in response, the claws inside her stomach getting sharper.
“Just a minute. Okay?” Her mom says again and leads her up to Monica’s room, sitting her down on her bed. She kisses her forehead and whispers into her hair before she leaves. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” She says back because that’s what she and Auntie Carol always do, and because it’s true.
Then she grabs Amelia from her pillow and clenches the bear against her chest. Waiting for Mom to come back. It feels like forever before she finally does.
And then her mom sits in her bed and pulls Monica and Amelia into her arms.
She knows this means it's going to be a 'serious conversation' - just like the time when Mom told her about how she couldn't tell her friends that Auntie Carol lived in the same room as Mom because some grownups could be really mean about it, even though there was nothing wrong with that. Monica knew that anyway though, the moms and dads of her friends had the same rooms too, and though Monica didn't have a dad she had Auntie Carol, which was the same thing.
"There was an accident." Her mom says, her hands running slowly and soothingly over Monica’s braided hair.
"What kind of accident?" Monica asks, pulling Amelia so close to her chest that her nose dug into her shoulder.
"Auntie Carol's plane crashed and we can't find her." Mom says and starts rocking her in her lap. Monica’s lower lip trembles and she smushes her face into Amelia’s fur to hide it.
"But... you will, right?" She says, voice tiny and quivering, and she doesn’t feel very big at all anymore.
"I don't know, baby," Mom says and squeezes her tighter "I hope so."
Monica looks up to her mom and bursts into tears as soon as she has, her mom is already crying, eyes staring forward out the window and into nothing. She looks just as scared as Monica feels, and something about that is so very wrong Monica has no words for it. Just the inherent certainty that Mom isn’t supposed to be scared.
She falls asleep in her mom's arms that night, doesn’t remember if she ever stopped crying, just remembers feeling her Auntie Carol's absence like a cold river-stone in her chest and somehow knowing there's a stone just like it in her mom's chest too.
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2
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Monica is eight years old and Auntie Carol has been missing for three years. There was a funeral not that long after the day of the accident but her mom doesn’t really believe that Auntie Carol is dead, Monica can tell because she doesn’t believe either.
She's heard her mom and grandmother fighting about it sometimes, because Grandma can tell too and she does believe that Auntie Carol's really gone. Monica doesn't like it when they fight about it, she's afraid that one day Grandma will win and her mom will start believing it too.
She doesn’t know what wakes her up that night. But when she opens her eyes, the windows are dark. After blinking the sleep from her eyes though Monica grows thirsty and carefully gets up from her bed, pushing her feet into her fluffy panda slippers.
Halfway down the steps though she hears her mom’s voice. She sounds upset so Monica stops to listen.
"Where the hell are you Carol?" Mom says and Monica’s heart starts running in her chest. She slowly takes the last few steps down, avoiding the creaky one by grabbing hold of the railing and very carefully skipping it.
She sneaks a look into the living room and her heart falls with a painful swoop at finding her mom alone.
"I heard your voice. I know I did. I didn't imagine it no matter how much those badge wearing bastards try to tell me otherwise. You were fine after the crash, so where did you go." Mom’s pacing back and forth through the room, eyes toward the ceiling, like that’s where Auntie Carol’s hiding in.
"My mother's been trying to get me to let you go. Yes, I know what you'd say: 'She never liked me, Maria.' And you're wrong, she liked you fine... eventually."
Grandma didn’t like Auntie Carol?
"Maybe... maybe she's right. Maybe I should stop waiting for you to show up like some kind of gift from heaven." She says, sounding frustrated now.
Monica has to bite her lip to stop herself from yelling that Mom couldn’t do that.
"Wherever it is you are, it's not here. And it doesn't look like you're in any particular hurry to come back." Her mom says, and she sounds mad now, but also sad, like she did when Monica spilled ketchup on Auntie Carol’s favorite jacket after she took it without asking permission.
"Where the f-" her mom starts saying but stops mid word as she finally seems to catch sight of her. "Monica?"
Monica steps out of her hiding place, feeling a bit guilty, she knows it’s rude to spy on grownups. But then she remembers what Mom had just been saying and that overcomes the little niggle of guilt. "You're angry at Auntie Carol."
"No, baby. I'm not." Mom tells her, dropping to her knees in front of her.
"You sound angry.” Monica argues and then flinches as a terrible thought crosses her mind. “Do you- do you think she left us on purpose?"
"Of course not. She loved us, you know that." Mom says and her eyes are as wide and honest as ever, so she knows that her mom isn’t lying to make her feel better.
But that just makes it more confusing.
"Then why are you mad?" She asks, not understanding.
"Sometimes it hurts less when we're mad." Her mom says very quietly and wipes away a tear from Monica’s cheek. She hadn’t even noticed she’d started crying.
She looks down and starts playing with the sleeves of her pajamas, it makes it easier to say something she’s never told anyone before. “Sometimes I’m mad at her too.”
“And that’s okay. It’s okay, baby. It doesn’t mean we love her any less, do you understand?”
Monica nods, even though she doesn’t really.
“Did you come down here for something, baby?” Mom asks after Monica doesn’t say anything more.
“I was thirsty.” Monica says through a sudden hiccup. She hates them, they always show up when she gets upset.
“Let’s get you a glass of warm milk then, okay?” Mom offers and wipes more tears from Monica’s face.
“Yeah.” Monica nods and lets her mom pull her up into a lingering hug, feels it as she starts drawing little circles over her back while they move toward the kitchen. It makes some of the lingering pain of thinking about Auntie Carol leach out of her but some of it remains, some of it hasn’t really ever gone away.
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3
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Monica is ten years old. And lately she’s started to think about something that never seemed like it mattered before but now doesn’t feel quite right. She’s thought about it so much that it finally feels like she’ll burst if she doesn’t ask her mom about it.
"Hey, Mom? I have a question about Auntie Carol." Monica says after she stops in front of her and sits down on the opposite side of Mom’s work table.
They’re in the little hanger near the house. Her mom’s busy working on what looks like a faulty injection pump.
"What is it, baby?" She asks and looks around for a different tool when hers proves too big to ply open the metal covering. Monica passes her the smaller one that’s on her side of the table. “Thank you, honey.”
"Why do we call her Auntie when... when she was... more?" Monica says, jumping straight to the point.
Her mom puts down the broken engine part and the tool she’d just given her, and looks at Monica. Then she lets out a long breath and seems to be steeling herself for the conversation.
Monica doesn’t let herself fidget. She’s not going to be nervous about this, if she doesn’t look like she can handle the answer her mom might decide to tell her she’s too young to understand.
"You loved her." She instead says, continuing to her next point in her mental list of reasons for why something isn’t quite right.
"Of course I did." Mom says but her face tells Monica she’s taking her question seriously.
"And she lived with us. And she made us breakfast because she always woke up so early, and she used to kiss you sometimes, and we were a family. And it doesn't... feel like my aunt is gone.” It’s the truth, because she thinks about her as Auntie Carol, but she's never thought of her as her aunt. Not the way other kids have talked about their aunts and uncles anyway, even though some of them live at the same house as them, just like Auntie Carol used to live with her and Mom. “Laila's aunt left for Minnesota and it doesn't hurt her like it hurts when I think about Auntie Carol. It hurts like it hurt Johnny when his mom died last summer."
"That's because we were raising you together." Mom says but it sounds like an excuse.
"Like parents do. So shouldn't she have been Mama Carol? Why didn't I use to call her that?" She says, trying to drive her point home.
Her mom sighs and gets up to pull her bench to Monica’s side of the table. Then she sits down and takes Monica’s hands into her own.
"Because people can be really cruel." Mom tells her, eyes staring straight into Monica’s. "You remember that talk we had about how you should always tell me if one of your teachers is particularly harsh on you, Laila, Gabriel, Angel and Jordan but not the rest of your class?"
"Because we're black and they're not allowed to do that?" She asks, a low-burning flame igniting in her chest at remembering the conversation Mom’s referring to. The one her mom has had with her more then once because she always says it’s important to have it fresh in her memory.
"Yes, well sometimes there are people who hate us for who we choose to love, like there are people who hate us for the color of our skin.” Here she picks up her smaller hand and pointedly kisses it like she always does during those talks, she says it’s a reminded that Monica’s beautiful and that no one is allowed to make her think otherwise. “And no matter how much we'd like to punch them all in the face, and no matter how much they would deserve it, sometimes when we have something to protect, it's safer to not step in front of those people in the first place."
“What did you have to protect?” She asks, not wanting to but beginning to understand.
“You. Our jobs. Each other.” Mom says with a sad smile that makes Monica feel like maybe she shouldn’t have asked in the first place. She hates making Mom sad.
“Oh.” She says and thinks about this for a moment, feels herself grow angry at yet another unjust thing. “Well, it’s not fair, we shouldn’t have to lie about how much she means to us just because people are stupid.”
“You’re right, baby, it’s really not fair at all.” Her mom says and squeezes her hands between her palms. It’s like being reassured but Monica doesn’t want to be reassured.
She pulls back to jump to her feet and clenches her hands into fists. The flickering flame inside her has been fed a little bit more fuel.
“And you said we should always stand up for ourselves because other people won’t, so isn’t that true here too?” She says, knowing she’s right, knowing her mom agrees, and still knowing that there’s very little she can do about it right now anyway.
“I wish it was that easy, Monica.”
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4
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Monica is eleven, and yesterday Auntie Carol came home. Monica and Mom had been right, she hadn’t died and she didn’t leave them on purpose.
It’s been a day since then and so much has happened. Mom and Auntie Carol are heroes, they saved a spaceship full of people - they were aliens but they were also people. She’s already prepared to argue with anyone who would say otherwise, even though she knows this is a secret and that there’s no one else who knows.
One of them is her new friend. Her name is Talia, she’s shy but really nice, Monica’s going to miss her.
She’s going to miss Auntie Carol too. That shouldn’t feel like a new absence, she’s been missing her for so long now after all. But somehow the sting is fresh. Even though she’s so proud of her.
They said goodbye to her half an hour ago but Monica and her mom are still sitting on their porch and looking up at the stars, staring at them like if they try hard enough she’ll still be up there looking back. It’s here that Monica finally pulls together the courage to ask the question that has been bothering her for the past two days.
“Why didn’t you tell her, Mom?” She asks, turning her face sideways to look at her.
“What’s that, baby?” She asks, voice sounding far away even coming from right beside her. Monica’s pretty sure it’s somewhere up in the sky with both their hearts.
“You didn’t tell Auntie Carol that you loved her. And that she loved you.” Monica isn’t going to let this go, they’d gotten her back. She won’t let them lose her when there’s so easy a way for them to keep her.
“She doesn’t remember it, honey.”
Monica continues staring at her mom, her mom continues looking up.
“So? You could have reminded her. And she remembered that I was Lieutenant Trouble.” She says and feels a smile crossing her face again, Auntie Carol remembers her. Even if it’s just that one memory, it’s one Monica shares with her and somehow that’s all that matters.
“I know. But... it would have made it harder, and it would have meant making her choose and it wouldn’t have been fair to do that. Talos and his people need her right now.” Mom says, finally looking down and tucking Monica against her side.
“But she left us that communicator, Mom. We’ll be able to talk to her now, and she said she’d visit.” Monica says, pleading for her mom to change her mind about this.
“And I’m sure she’s going to. But you can’t tell someone they love you, they have to figure that out on their own or it doesn’t really mean anything.”
“But-”
“It’s late, baby, you should get ready for bed,” She says, standing up and reaching out to pull Monica to her feet too.
Monica lets Mom take her hand but doesn’t let her drop the conversation. “I think she does though. Love us.”
“Monica-”
“She looked at you just like she did in that photo you took out before we showed her the rest of them.” Mom looks surprised, like she’d thought Monica hadn’t noticed. She had though, and once they started going through them, Monica knew which one she’d taken. It was the one where there were just inches between Mom and Auntie Carol’s faces and both of them were visibly laughing at something. But there was also a strange look on Auntie Carol’s face, like she was completely spellbound by Monica’s mom. “So I think you should tell her.”
Her mom just shakes her head and goes on the offensive, starting to tickle her till Monica yells at her to stop through her uncontrollable giggles.
“To bed with you, Lieutenant Trouble.” Her mom says with amusement.
Monica finally listens. She doesn’t admit defeat though, she just needs to think of a new strategy.
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5
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Auntie Carol does call them. She calls them almost every night around dinnertime. And when she hasn’t she always tells them why later, sometimes she even retells the coolest parts of whatever fight had happened. Monica’s pretty sure she skips a lot of the more gnarly details to not make Mom mad though.
But during the nights when Auntie Carol calls on time, Monica pays close attention to how she and Mom interact during them.
By this point Monica’s pretty sure she has conclusive evidence that she was right. Auntie Carol might not remember how it was before, and if Monica’s honest there’s a lot she doesn’t remember either - she was only five after all, - but she’s sure that however it was then, it’s a lot like that now too.
They smile at each other and joke with each other, dryly and occasionally through sarcasm but Monica’s well aware that those are her mom’s favorite modes of humor. And whenever Mom isn’t looking at her, Auntie Carol’s smiles turn all sappy and soft.
Auntie Carol loves Mom, it isn’t even a question.
Besides, there’s also the way she’s started to say goodbye when it’s time to cut off the call.
“Love you, Trouble, Maria.” Auntie Carol says with a smile for Monica that she knows is honest but also only half the story. Because then, like gravity, her eyes would always flicker toward her mom.
And yes, Monica has noticed how Auntie Carol always puts her first. Like a barrier between the sentiment and the other person it’s being directed at. Her moms are impossible - she’s started sometimes to think of Auntie Carol like that, as the second of her two moms, if only inside the safety of her own mind.
“Love you too, Captain.” Monica says and turns significantly towards her mom.
“Goodnight, Carol.” Mom says instead as the hologram flickers off, leaving them alone a second later. It was still enough time for Monica to see that brief half a heartbeat where Auntie Carol’s smile fell a bit.
She glares at her mom. Mom, as is starting to become her habit, pretends not to notice it and stands up to take the empty dishes to the kitchen.
“Grab your plate, honey.” Mom just says, already by the doorway.
Monica does and then stomps off after her.
“You’re supposed to say it back.” Monica says, losing her patience. It’s been happening for months now, this weird thing where they almost say something and then never actually do.
“We’ve talked about this, Monica.” Mom says, placing her stack of dishes in the sink and then taking the ones from Monica.
“No. you said that Auntie Carol had to figure it out on her own. I think she’s figured it out.” Monica says back and then, perhaps rather unwisely, actually says the thing that’s been hiding in her mind for a while now. “I think you’re just scared.”
Then she freezes, she knows she’s not supposed to talk to Mom like that.
“I am.” Mom says, instead of immediately sending her to her room, though the look that comes with the words is stern. Monica’s on thin ice here.
Monica stops in her tracks, - not because she’s one step away from getting in trouble but because she didn’t expect Mom to actually admit that she’s scared. Now that she has, Monica’s not sure how to proceed.
For a minute she just stands there as her mom starts washing the dishes. What finally comes out is: “But you love her. And she loves you too.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she thinks so because one of those flashes told her that she once did.” Mom says back, adding more dish-washing liquid to the sponge.
“But don’t you want it to be like it used to be?” Monica asks, finally feeling lost.
“It’s complicated.” Mom says and continues doing the dishes.
Monica grabs a towel to help with the drying and falls silent after that. Mind busy stewing in frustration over adults and their need to call very simple things ‘complicated’. It’s not complicated, it’s so easy; her mom still loves Auntie Carol and Auntie Carol is clearly either starting to remember or has fallen in love with Mom all over again. Either way the answer to what they should do is very obvious.
Monica has a terrible feeling that if she lets them continue like this on their own they’re never going to figure it out. She can’t let that happen.
----
+1
----
She’s not supposed to call Auntie Carol for anything other than an emergency because there’s no way to predict if she’ll receive that call while on board their hijacked space cruiser, during a live firefight or while on a covert op. It’s all around safer if Auntie Carol’s the one who contacts them.
But Auntie Carol is not the only person Monica uses their holographic communicator to talk with.
Which is why Monica is closing her bedroom door and turning on her radio to cover up the noises from her planned conversation. That done, she goes back to the communicator and enters the - by now familiar - string of Kree symbols.
“Hey, Talia. Are you by yourself right now?” Monica says as soon as the call connects and her friend’s image forms above the device.
“Hi, Monica.” Talia says from her side of the galaxy as they grin at each other. “I’m in my room. What’s up?”
When Monica first met her, Talia might have come across as shy and quiet but she learned really fast that this was true only while Talia hadn’t known her. Now that they’re friends they’ve fallen into the habit of talking for hours, sometimes right up until the point where their parents have to make them stop and go to sleep.
“I think I need your help.” Monica says and starts ruffling through her bag for the book that’s given her an idea. “You know how Auntie Carol plans to come to Earth for a few days next month, because it finally looks like things are going to be quiet for a little while?”
“Yeah, my dad’s going to be free too, he said he wants us to spend some time together while it lasts. Why?” Talia says, looking curious.
“I need Auntie Carol to spend more than a few days home. I’ve told you about how she and Mom have been dancing around each other without ever just sitting down and admitting that they’re in love with each other, right?” She says, knowing she’s kinda whining a bit but after seven months with a first-row seat, she thinks she’s due.
“Only once or twice.” Talia says with a smirk and a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Monica throws one of her stuffed bears through the hologram and gets met by the sound of Talia laughing as the light reforms back into her.
“That wasn’t nice. I thought you wanted my help.” She says, still smirking. This is why Talia is her best friend even though she’s two years younger than her.
“I do.” Monica says and turns serious. “Can you talk your dad into taking you here to Earth too?”
“Maybe?” She says, though she doesn’t sound entirely sure. It’ll do for now, they can throw around some ideas on how to accomplish that part after Monica explains her plan.
“I found this book in the library and it gave me an idea,” she pulls out her copy of ‘Lottie and Lisa’ to show it to Talia, “it’s about these twin sisters who got separated as babies by their parents, and then found each other and decided to switch places while pretending to be each other.”
“But what does that have to do with your mom and aunt?” Talia asks.
“Well, I was thinking. If you were here and pretended to be me and neither of us would tell anyone which of us was which...”
“...your aunt and my dad couldn’t leave before we told them.” Talia says, finishing Monica’s thought.
“And we won’t tell them until Mom and Auntie Carol admit how they feel about each other. I don’t even think we’ll have to do much, they just need to spend enough time together that they forget all the stupid reasons they’ve come up with for why they’re too scared to be together.” Monica finishes by letting out a long, extended, exhausted breath.
“That’s brilliant.” Talia says, her pretty green eyes widening in wonder.
Monica smiles, proud of herself.
“So can you do it? Make yourself look like me?” She asks and bites her lip, this is the one part of her idea she isn’t sure of. If Talia can’t turn into her, then her plan gets unraveled at the seams and she’s back to square one.
“Probably?” Talia says, bending her neck to the side and seemingly taking a new look at Monica. “You’re not that much bigger than me and I’ve been practicing with dad. It’s also a lot easier if we know the person we’re trying to turn into. But I can’t really do the memories thing yet.”
“That’s okay. I’ll tell you everything you have to know and if they ask us something we haven’t covered we’ll both pretend that we don’t know the answer.” Monica says and smiles an exhilarated smile.
This is going to work. This has to work.
----
They step downstairs hand in hand - hand in the same hand, in fact, - it’s time for the show.
“Monica?” Her mom says cautiously.
“Yes, Mom?” Monica and Talia answer in unison just like they’ve practiced, two identical grins on their faces.
“What are you two doing?” Mom says a suspicious cadence coloring her voice and a look on her face like she’s already getting an idea of what they’re planning. And why.
Monica doesn’t mind, as long as her mom isn’t sure which of them is the real Monica there’s nothing she can do about it. Knowing what Monica wants from them might actually hurry this thing along faster.
She does know that as soon as this is over she’s going to be grounded for a very, very long time. But sacrifices have to be made in the name of the greater good of Mom and Auntie Carol getting back together.
“Yes what are you two up to?” Auntie Carol asks looking over the back of the couch. She looks amused and unlike Mom clearly hasn’t yet worked out that Talia’s not about to change back any time soon.
They exchange a look and pull their lips in a smirk, Monica has to admit it feels a bit strange seeing her own face looking back but it’s also kinda... really cool too.
“Nothing, Auntie Carol.” Talia says innocently.
“Nothing at all.” Monica echoes her.
They both look left at the sudden loud chuckle coming from the corner where Talia’s dad is standing, as soon as they do, he sends them a quick wink and continues laughing. Monica likes him. She has a good feeling that he’s not gonna snitch on them even if he does have some way to tell them apart.
Maria thinking that she and Carol are in a full fledged relationship and Carol thinking that Maria is just her best friend while also pining for her and using any excuse she can find to kiss her (platonically of course) and touch her. They even share a bed but Carol thinks that's just because Monica's crib is in the same room and she wants to be there to lighten the load. Hilarity and your basic lesbian uselessness ensues.
Carol never asked, so Maria never said.
She didn’t think it needed saying.
They had a child together, for Christ’s sake.
Carol was the one who got up with Monica at 1am; Maria was the one who got up with her at 3am.
When Maria’s period cramps were especially bad, Carol would take both shifts, kissing Maria lingeringly on the back of the neck, just under her scarf, whispering that she should sleep, she should rest.
Of course they were together. Romantically.
If Carol was more than a little not-at-all-into-sex, more than a little asexual, that was more than a little alright with Maria. She had Carol’s heart, and her own hands, and that was all she needed.
They were together. It was screamingly obvious. And, unlike so many other complicated things in life, it didn’t need saying.
Maria was happy. With Carol. With their daughter.
But Carol? Carol had no idea.
She knew she had the 1am shift when Monica inevitably woke.
And she knew that when Maria wasn’t feeling well, she’d be the one to take little Monica on walks outside, feeding her and then telling her all about the stars, all about what an amazing pilot her mother was.
She knew she loved those nights, because she loved the time with Monica, but also because those were the nights when Maria would try, and fail, to get out of bed to take care of her. And those were the nights that gave Carol the excuse she needed to kiss the nape of Maria’s neck, to kiss her and soothe her and assure her that it was alright, she’d take the baby.
Any excuse to kiss her, to show her how much she cared for her, even if it wasn’t the only place she wanted to. Even if it wasn’t her mouth.
But at least they shared their bed.
Of course they did.
Monica’s crib was in the spare bedroom that Carol had always stayed in, so naturally, she was doing Maria a favor by letting her sleep in there with her.
It was just easier, wasn’t it?
And so what if she blushed and gulped and had to find somewhere, anywhere, else to look when Maria stripped out of her clothes after a 10k jog around base? Sharing a room was just easier. Sharing a bed was just more convenient. Getting undressed around each other was just more efficient.
And who was Carol to argue with a little more efficiency?
“Where’s your head at?” Maria asked as they laid there one of those nights, those efficient nights that had become every night, when she drew back the covers for Maria and opened an arm for her to lay in - because who could afford proper heating, really, it was a sharing body heat thing - and Carol was mulling it all over.
Mulling over the way Maria smelled like vanilla and lavender and engine oil, and the way it made Carol want to take her clothes off and taste her everywhere. The way Maria laughed, full-bellied and careless, whenever she or Carol showed up the boys on base and Carol would imitate their gruff shock later, and the way it made Carol want to hold her and never let go. The way Maria’s hands fell so easy, so confident, on her Camaro’s steering wheel, the way she hugged tight turns and shifted gears without ever breaking her easy concentration, without ever breaking a sweat, and the way it made Carol want to throw back the seat and lay Maria down and…
Nope.
Best friends. Maria was her. Best. Friend. And she should be grateful for that. She was grateful for that. Wanting to be more to Maria, to do more with her, was… was just like needing oxygen. A part of her background noise, something she didn’t even have to think about most of the time, except when she felt especially deprived of it.
Dammit.
And now Maria was asking where her head was at, and it was her favorite question in the world, but right then she had no way to answer it honestly without saying something about Maria’s clothes being off, laying back and letting Carol make her scream, and that just wouldn’t do, would it?
“Uh. Flight plan for tomorrow.”
Maria tilted her head and shifted, so she was on her side, facing Carol. She smoothed a stray bit of hair back behind Carol’s ear, and Carol gulped at the intimacy.
“Mmhmm. Where else is your head at?” she asked, because dammit, she knew her too well. And not nearly well enough.
“You ever want something you can’t have?”
“Danvers, you wear the same uniform I do, you know I do.”
Carol shook her head. “I don’t mean flying. I mean. Other things.”
“So much more specific. Illuminating, thank you.”
Carol reached for one of the stray pillows Maria always tossed to the bottom of the bed and launched it at her head.
Maria caught it and launched it right back. Carol dodged. Maria sought revenge.
Carol wound up pinning her down, wrists above her head, straddling her.
It made her heart stop.
That damn oxygen thing again.
She should move.
She really should.
But that… were Maria’s pupils… dilating? Was she more out of breath than a quick pillow fight would ever actually make her? Was she actually licking her lips?
Carol figured her brain must be short circuiting, malfunctioning.
Maria gulped, and blinked, and her eyes locked into Carol’s. She smiled that best friend smile, and Carol knew she must have imagined it.
“I meant,” she forced herself to say, pushing normalcy into her voice but for reasons beyond her understanding, not letting Maria’s wrists go. Not slipping off of her. Not shifting so she wasn’t straddling her.
And apparently, that was just fine with Maria, because she looked, then, like they were having the most normal conversation, in the most normal way.
“I meant, uh.” She couldn’t help it. Maria’s body was underneath her own, and her pajama pants were too thin, dammit, and god, she was a disaster. Her eyes dropped down to Maria’s lips, and she cursed herself for being so obvious. She couldn’t wreck their friendship with something Maria obviously didn’t want.
Because Maria always went for what she wanted. It was one of the things Carol admired so much about her. But she’d never gone for Carol. So obviously, she didn’t want her. So obviously, Carol was just taking advantage. Obviously.
“I just, you know what? Never mind.”
She flipped off of Maria in a single, fluid movement that - had she been watching her best friend - made her bite her lip and take in Carol’s entire body with an all too familiar sweep of her eyes.
Dammit.
“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk, Carol. But you know I wanna listen. If you change your mind.”
There was no way Maria wanted to listen to… this.
Carol needed a cold shower.
She didn’t mean to say that bit out loud.
But apparently, she did.
Say it out loud.
Because Maria’s eyebrows practically flew up into her scarf, and Carol had never heard her squeak like that.
“You need… what? Why?”
She’d also never heard Maria stumble for words like that.
What. Was. Happening.
“Nothing. Just. Shower. Long day. Should’ve before we went to bed.”
“Carol.”
“I’ll only be a minute.”
“No, Carol. You... did. Shower. Before we went to bed.”
She cursed internally, and as if on cue, Monica started stirring in her crib. Maria made to get out of the bed, but Carol shook her head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll take her for a walk. We just fed her so. She’s gotta just be restless. Come on, Lieutenant Trouble. I can tell you all about mine.”
Maria said nothing as she watched Carol gather her child - their child - into her arms, give her a half smile that she knew was forced, and set out for the stars.
She wondered vaguely if Monica’s first words would be Vega or Polaris or planetary nebula or some such.
But more, she wondered about Carol’s little meltdown, just then.
She’d tried to keep her face clean of just how turned on she was, when Carol had ended their pillow fight by getting on top of her and pinning her down. Maybe she’d failed too much?
But Carol had said she’d needed a cold shower. Did that... what? If she wanted something from Maria - something different than what they usually had, something sexual - didn’t she know she could just take it? Or, god, ask for it? Didn’t she know she could talk to her girlfriend instead of sorting it out on her own? Unless she wanted to sort it out on her own. Which was fine. But didn’t she...
Apparently, Maria’s own spiral had lasted longer than she’d thought.
Because Carol was back, this time with a sleeping baby. She put a silent finger to her lips, triumphant, before she gently laid Monica down in her crib.
“I don’t know if that kid’s gonna grow up associating the stars with being so bored she falls asleep, or if she’d gonna be the first woman in space,” she whispered reverently, and god, Maria was in love.
To that end.
She crawled out of bed before Carol could climb back in, and she gestured her best friend, her girlfriend, to her own bedroom. So they could talk without fear of waking the baby.
“You okay there, soldier?” she asked once she’d sat on her bed, and Carol hovered awkwardly next to it. She patted the bed next to her. They share Carol’s bed every night. Why did Carol think she needed an invitation to sit on Maria’s?
“I don’t want to ruin things,” Carol murmured as she plopped down, gingerly keeping a distance, a personal space, that the two never had.
“What would you ruin, Carol? And, you know. How?”
“I don’t want to take advantage. Of our friendship.”
“Our friendship,” Maria repeated, arching an eyebrow and putting her hand out to Carol’s knee. “Carol, we haven’t had a friendship since 1983,” she teased, because that was the night everything had shifted. The first night she’d fallen asleep in Carol’s arms, Carol kissing the back of her neck and murmuring how much Maria meant to her.
They were both more than a little drunk, but also more than a little coherent.
And more than a little earnest.
“Wait what.”
“What.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I wanna kiss you senseless is what I’m talking about.”
“Then why don’t you, is what I’m talking about.”
It was seamless and it made sense, and they’d have time for clarifications and confessions and explanations and laughs - a lot, a lot of laughs - later, but now?
Now, they had other things to do.
Because now, Carol’s mouth on hers was fire and it was oxygen and it was everything she’d ever needed and even better than she’d ever imagined.
It changed nothing and it changed everything and god, it was absolutely perfect.
- Fic snippet of the Danbeau fic I’ve been working on for the hurt/comfort square of my marvel bingo card
Carol has regained some of her memories. A fraction of them, really.
Enough of them are from her adult life for her to know that she and Maria used to be together, that they had something real, and now this feeling in her chest makes sense whenever she looks up to see Maria standing in the doorway, the smile that automatically spreads across her face when their eyes meet, the static that fills her lungs just by being in her presence again, the warmth and love that pervades their- her- home.
There are little touches of Maria everywhere she looks, like her very being is built into the walls of this place.
After spending so long so far away from the furthest reaches of humanity, it’s such a relief to spend any time at all in a place so overflowing with Maria.
There’s a picture of the two of them laughing on that old mahogany desk, eyes crinkling around the corners, bent over and holding onto each other like it’s the only thing keeping them upright. Like without the support, they’ll both fall over, so they don’t dare let go. They don’t look like they’ll stop laughing anytime soon.
Monica’s drawings are hung on the fridge, and finger paintings decorate the halls that she’s signed like a little artist along the edge- a big loopy M that she draws just like her mom, all curves and no corners, too big to be contained by construction paper and silly things like running out of room.
There’s so many things in this house that Carol swears has a story, one that she used to know- a chip on the counter top that she thinks was her fault, a pencil mark etched on the closet door with a date and a height that looks like her handwriting. Her hands remember the weight of the oak table in the kitchen, or maybe she just wants to, as she skims over the nicks like they mark something important. She finds herself touching all the crinkle corners of the finger paintings, red place mats that are soft under Carol’s fingers, absentmindedly fiddling with the locket draped over a vinyl record stand that makes her heart ache for some unfathomable reason- she can almost taste the life she used to have here on the tip of her tongue.
A/N: A scene involving a pull up bar and kissing against a car that was cut from this fic.
Then
“Carol, what are you doing?”
Maria’s dress shoes click loudly with each step she takes down the hall. She looks into Monica’s room, tossing a few errant toys back where they belong. She gets a glimpse of the time and immediately rushes back into the hallway and straight for the stairs.
“Carol!”
“Yeah! I’m working out-” Carol grits out, her voice strained.
“Where’s Monica then?”
“What do you mean?”
Maria gets halfway down the stairs, stopping when she sees Carol and Monica. Monica is in the chest carrier, strapped to Carol’s torso. Carol is in her Sunday best, hanging by the pull-up bar installed in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Are you doing pull-ups with our daughter strapped to you?” Maria hisses as Monica giggles with every up or down motion, Carol makes.
Carol hangs in between pull-ups, looking up at Maria, her lips curled upwards in a smirk. Maria shakes her head at Carol, refusing to give into Carol’s smile and looking straight back at Carol, unamused. Carol winks at her and Maria rolls her eyes because it “worked” once 2 years ago and Carol still thinks she’s something charming every time she winks at her. Monica breaks their staring contest.
“Mama. Mama.”
“One more? Damn LT. You run a tough program,” Carol grunts. She manages to pull her chin above the bar one more time before she drops off the bar.
“Mama. Mama.”
Monica stares up at the bar, her tiny fists outstretched, reaching for the bar.
“Mama’s gotta rest.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing that in your dress clothes.”
“You’re not even a little impressed?”
“We’re gonna be late for lunch. Is-”
“Trouble’s overnight bag is in the trunk,” Carol answers before Maria can ask.
Maria heads for the front door, holding it open for Carol to (literally) bounce out of the house as Monica’s giggles filling the air. Maria locks up the house behind them.
Carol finishes buckling Monica in, double checking that she’s secure before straightening up and unbuckling the baby carrier from her torso. She tosses it in the backseat, straightening up as Maria rounds the car.
“She buckled in?”
“Yep.”
“Good.”
Maria grabs Carol’s hand, tugging her around to the car’s trunk. Carol opens her mouth to ask what Maria is doing, when Maria presses her body to Carol’s, pinning Carol against the trunk. Carol smirks up at her, raising an eyebrow.
“So you did find it impressive.”
Maria leans down, pausing when her lips are barely brushing Carol’s. Carol leans in, but Maria tilts her head just enough to keep a small distance between them.
“How many did you do?”
“Seventeen.”
“I bet I can do at least twenty with her strapped to me,” she whispers, finally pressing her lips to Carol’s.
Carol’s protesting grumble turns into a whine when Maria slips her tongue into Carol’s mouth, her fingers digging hard into Carol’s hips.
“You definitely cannot do more than I can-” Carol gets out before tugging Maria back down, biting at Maria’s bottom lip playfully.
“We’re already late for brunch.”
“You’re the one that started this.”
“You’re the one doing pull ups wearing our daughter.”
Carol grins up at Maria, her hands curling around the back of Maria’s neck, guiding Maria’s mouth back towards hers. Maria stops her before their lips meet again, her palm firm against Carol’s collarbone. Maria stares down at Carol, smiling softly.
“What?”
“I love you.”
They’ve said those words to each other so many times over the years. But never like this...not since they started trading kisses and letting their hands wander.
When Maria says I love you her voice is low and serious.
When Maria says I love you Carol feels the words more than hears the words.
When Maria says I love you the only thought that runs through Carol’s mind is I love you too.
She presses a hard kiss to Maria’s smile, quick, like a habit. Then she pulls away just enough to look into Maria’s eyes,
“I love you.”
“We’re so late for brunch.”
“Your parents are going to kill you.”
“I still don’t understand how you tricked them into thinking that you’re not the reason we’re late every single time we visit.”
“I’m just that charming.”
“You’re something alright,” Maria breathes with a smile, turning the key in the ignition before Carol has a chance to retort.
