COORDINATES Who: Hope and Nebula. What: Asking about that Terran weed... When: Before the Wedding in Genosha. Where: Hope's apartment at the Tower. Warning: Asking about that Terran weed... ? Status: Complete!
According to Friday, Hope van Dyne lived in apartment number 2, on the same floor as Nebula and next to Wanda Maximoff. After communicating with Drax on the Network, Nebula found herself curious about the Terran weed he mentioned. Something that relaxed and possibly provided an ‘experience’. He said his source for the item was Hope, and so the Luphomoid headed toward Hope’s place, dressed casually in jeans and a plain blue t-shirt and no shoes. If she were approaching a restaurant, they could possibly refuse her service. She didn’t think it would be an issue in this case.
She had only briefly met van Dyne in another life, on the battlefield and at Stark’s funeral. As a result, the red-haired illusion would be what Hope would see. Nebula paused outside the door before knocking three times, briskly but not in an alarming way that might denote a dire emergency, like the building was on fire. She didn’t know if the scientist was home, but if she wasn’t, she’d just come back later.
The sound of a knock at Hope’s door jolted her out of the little siesta she’d been taking on the couch - rarely did she find the time to nap but, curled up under a blanket with some Great British Baking Show on in the background, she actually felt soothed, her limbs growing heavier and heavier as the white noise droned on and on.
But apparently she had a visitor which was surprising - there hadn’t been a lot of those lately. And with Sif gone, she didn’t expect there would be either. Though maybe her depression nap had something to do with Sif being gone - wasn’t like they were basically married the way her and Scott had been, but their relationship had just started to blossom and Hope’s heart began to heal.
Then, nope. Of course the universe yanked that rope out from under her. Figures. It was back to being closed off with a stone-cold rock in her chest where her heart lay dormant beneath.
She shuffled to the door in shorts and a tank top, opening it to find someone she didn’t expect at all. “Oh, hey - Nebula, right?” Hope knew who she was, thanks to Drax. “Come on in. What can I do for you?”
Nebula nodded, once. “That is correct,” she said and entered the apartment when invited to do so. It was much the same as the others she’d seen, though the bunched-up blanket, partially on the couch and the floor, indicated she might have interrupted something. She glanced at the TV then back to Hope. “If this isn’t a good time, I can return at a later date.” It wasn’t like she needed to try this weed now. It was a curiosity, nothing more. For all she knew, it wouldn’t affect her at all, the way twelve beers at the Fourth of July party hadn’t changed her perceptions, reaction time, thought processes… “Are you learning how to bake?” She had noted the content of the program, but not necessarily the competitive aspect.
"No, no, it's perfectly fine," Hope assured, running her hands through her hair to get it out of her face - she had a tie on her wrist (always handy, that), so she quickly swept the dark brown mass up into a ponytail so she wouldn't have to deal with it. "I don't get visitors often, but I like the company. Please, have a seat, make yourself comfy." Janet would have been mortified if her own daughter wasn't anything but a gracious host.
She glanced at the television with a little laugh. "And oh, god no - I suck at baking," and Hope had no qualms about admitting that. There were a lot of things she'd toot her own horn about (quantum physics being one of them) but definitely not baking. Or cooking. "I just like it for the background noise. Can handle pouring drinks though, so can I get you anything?"
Nebula wasn’t sure where to sit, so she chose a chair beside the couch, one that was also angled to view the television. She sat on the edge of the cushion, not uncomfortable but not completely relaxed. She raised a hand and extended her index finger to point at the appropriate wall. “Wanda bakes very well,” she said, and looked at the wall shared with Wanda’s apartment as if the baker herself might walk through it. Lowering her hand, she added, “If you have any water or juice, that would be fine.”
She wasn’t sure if she would ever bake herself, either, but she was still looking forward to the cooking lessons Banner had offered. It wasn’t the same as baking, she understood that. Not having to kick her sorry meal replacement from an antiquated vending machine on the nearest backward planet was something she appreciated about her time on Terra and she had no desire to return to that existence.
“She does, doesn’t she? Some people have a knack for it, I think,” Hope grinned, heading to the fridge to see what she said in the way of juice - there was a nice pineapple orange combo she was keen on mixing with vodka sometimes to make screwdrivers for breakfast (it didn’t count as day drinking if it was something you’d normally have with brunch, right?), so she poured two glasses (without the booze) and handed one over to Nebula.
The couch was where Hope chose to settle, cradling the glass in her hands. The television was still on, but the volume was low - it wasn’t like she planned to pay attention to it. “So, how are things?” she asked. “How’s Drax?”
Nothing was wrong, right? Hopefully the big guy was okay. Hadn’t gotten himself into some trouble again, leaping straight into a monster’s jaws as he tended to do.
Fortunately, there weren’t any monsters currently bothering anyone, so Drax had nothing to leap into at the moment. Accepting the glass with a nod of thanks, she replied, “Drax is fine, as far as I know. He hasn’t destroyed another microwave in a while. I should probably check on that, just to be sure.” Her shipmate tended to have violent interaction with Terran appliances. She wasn’t entirely sure why, beyond Drax was Drax was Drax. “I think he won the hot dog eating contest at the July Fourth gathering.” Nebula wasn’t entirely sure, because though she’d been in the crowd, cheering him on, Barnes had located her and she’d been saying hello, distracted at the end of the competition. Everyone had been jubilant, so it was difficult to tell who had won.
She had a sip of her drink and smiled a little. “This is delicious,” she said as a ‘thank you’. “What is it?” The flavours were vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place them. “Things are fine,” she added in reply to Hope’s first question, because they were. She was busy with various projects, had discovered waffles and she and Barnes had - Nebula had another sip of juice, “How are you?” she inquired, trying not to let images of her intimate moments with the Wolf distract her.
Nebula never had those particular tropical flavors before? Gasp. Well, Hope was glad to be the one guiding her on this journey, toward something new. “Pineapple orange juice,” she said. “I love most kinds of juices though. They’re nice and refreshing after a workout.” Any gym that had a juice or smoothie bar was fine by her. And her workouts were intense, so she always earned her rewards.
She tucked her legs up beneath her on the couch cushions, sitting lotus style and getting comfortable. “Things are okay on this end too,” she shrugged. “I know Rhodey disappeared, I’m sorry about that. I recently lost Sif. So I get how much it sucks.”
Felt like she was always losing people. It had happened with Scott, twice, so you’d think she’d be used to it by now. But she never was.
“Pineapple orange juice,” she repeated, adding the combination to her list of things to try. Though she’d been here for a few months now - or was it longer? - there was still so much to explore. She sighed a little at the mention of Rhodey and tilted her head at the name ‘Sif’.
“She is one of the Asgardians, correct? I didn’t know she was gone.” Where did the Asgardians return to when they departed from here? Wasn’t Asgard no more? Did they join their people’s colony and just not remember anything about being in a parallel world? It was probably impossible to determine accurately. The way Hope phrased it, Nebula gathered she was a friend. It wasn’t ‘Sif has returned to her universe’ it was ‘I recently lost Sif’. “It is difficult to lose a friend,” she said quietly. It was her version of ‘I’m sorry’ because, much like ‘thank you’, ‘sorry’ wasn’t a word she used much.
Hope wasn’t actually sure where Sif had gone either - she assumed that she was back with the other Asgardians who remained unaware about the crack in the universe and how broken it was. And therefore unaware of their burgeoning relationship - it twisted her heart a little to think of, but she had to soldier onward.
“It is,” she agreed quietly, sipping on her drink. “It’s one of the hardest parts of living in this world. Or the fact that we don’t get a choice about being here.” A part of her wanted to return to where she was supposed to be - with her parents alive and well, their home on the beach, Hope with Scott and a now-teenaged Cassie, watching the stars.
This universe - it hurt too much sometimes. She hated it.
“But hey, that’s what the minibar is for, right?” she quipped. “Or, you know. A bubble bath or something. We all have to find our ways to deal.”
Nebula had never considered a bubble bath as a way of handling difficult times. In fact, she’d never considered a bubble bath at all. Cleaning was a quick shower, in and out. If she ever lingered in the water, it was when she swam, a rarity all in itself.
“Yes.” Pause. “Speaking of which, Drax mentioned you gave him a weed that tastes like garbage but leaves you happy. I would like to try this weed.” When it came right down to it, that was the reason for her visit, but Hope’s company and the juice was a bonus.
“Oh - " Hope blinked hazel-green eyes, surprised at the request. Was this a thing now, she was officially the weed supplier of the Avengers? Guess she could have been shuffled into worse roles. “Marijuana? Pot,” she added, going with the more common nickname. “Actually, it’s called a few things, but - it doesn’t always have to taste like garbage. I actually don’t really care for the taste or smell when it’s smoked. But you can put weed into cookies or brownies and it tastes a lot better that way.”
She tried to think of if she had any here in the apartment now; the last time she did edibles with Drax, those had been baked goods she brought back from California. “I - might have a lollipop or two, if you want to try one?” she offered. “They kind of pack a punch though, in edible form. But I’m sure you’d be okay. Still, if you want to try it you’re welcome to stay here.” Safety first.
She had some here? And it wouldn’t taste like garbage? “I wasn’t expecting you would have something available,” she began. “Drax was prepared to go out and ask random people where he could purchase some. I dissuaded him. I think. I hope.” The last thing she would want is to have Drax in some sort of trouble. No, wait - the last thing she would want is Drax under the influence of this weed and in trouble. “I thought it would be best to ask you about it… but if you have something I could try…” Another pause. “I don’t want to deprive you of your supply.”
As much as Nebula wanted to try this for herself, she didn’t want to inconvenience Hope. “I don’t think I can become intoxicated, but this would be a new experience. I wanted to see if it would affect me and what that would feel like.”
“It’s no trouble, I definitely can’t afford to be getting stoned all the time so if the temptation goes away and I can introduce someone to a new experience, all the better,” Hope chuckled, getting up to wander to her dresser. She didn’t have any baked goods left (it took awhile for weed to go bad, but those cookies and brownies would have been stale) but had a couple plastic-wrapped chocolate lollipops on a stick, contained in a box.
She handed one of the candies to Nebula. “I’ll join you,” she assured, tearing the plastic off. Though she may not finish the whole thing - Hope didn’t have a super metabolism like most of her friends so she had to take it easy when it came to edibles.
But in the meantime, she decided to settle in, a couple licks given to her lolly and British Bake-Off still droning in the background - eventually she’d melt into the couch and that was just fine.
Nebula accepted the chocolate-on-a-stick with another nod of thanks and watched Hope tear the plastic off of another one. She tore her plastic, too, and wasn’t sure where to place it. She opted for the low table in front of her. It unwrinkled with a soft, plastic sigh. There was a moment of hesitation, then she stuck it in her mouth and rolled her tongue around it: chocolate, just like it presented as, though it had a different flavour from the ones she’d tried before.
She pulled the lollipop out of her mouth and studied it. “It tastes like the Pot of Gold, only… different.” She licked it again a few times, then licked it some more. There were drugs everywhere, some far more dangerous than anything found on Terra, but that didn’t mean they affected her. Too much of her was augmented or maybe it was her Luphomoid heritage or maybe it was both. Or, maybe it was neither, she reflected, sucking on the item hard, clacking it lightly between her teeth. “What is it supposed to do, again?”
“It just makes you really relaxed and calm,” Hope said, working on her own marijuana candy. She detected a slight taste of the stuff (probably it was made with powder, ground up, like the baked goods were? She wasn’t sure - but it was a direct flight into the bloodstream either way, rather than inhaling the smoke) but mostly tasted chocolate so that was good. “And hungry too - Drax had the munchies pretty bad.”
That made her laugh. She could recall decimating stacks and stacks of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while under the influence. And then Peter came home and was probably equal parts confused and jealous.
She could feel chemical fingers creeping through her, the more lollipop she consumed so she let her bones dissolve into the couch and contemplated moving. Eventually.
“Drax is frequently hungry,” Nebula commented, though it probably sounded as understandable as her last question; talking around a lollipop did that, apparently. It was a good thing Hope understood ‘lollipop’. She pulled the chocolate treat out of her mouth and leaned forward a little. The chair was actually quite comfortable. “There were several occasions recently when we had to make a stop at a dismal planet, because we’d run out of food and were very low on rations, which were not very appealing, and this was the closest source. Unfortunately, none of the items in the vending machine on this world were very appealing, either, but Drax was complaining he needed more food and he was eating everything on the ship.”
Nebula smiled, remembering those moments with a strange fondness that defied reason. She hated those machines and their contents. “I had to kick them most of the time, because they took our meagre funds and didn’t release what we’d paid for.” Pause. “The machines, not Drax or Quill.” And then, she started to laugh. She flopped backwards, long arms and legs akimbo, head resting on the back of the chair, and let a peal of laughter rise to the ceiling she was now regarding. She calmed down enough to add, “It was funny, if you looked at it properly.”
Well, didn’t Nebula just look so cool as a cucumber? The pot must be taking effect, which Hope was glad for - it’d be no fun if she was like, impervious to those feel-good sensations. Everything was just so calm, you were mellow and not constantly turning thoughts over and over in your head.
And everything was also hilarious, so there was that.
“Imagine if you had edibles on the ship - you’d never see food again,” she laughed too, a devious sort of cackle. “You might have to kick them and not the machines. Or both. Kicking both is good.” Yes, whipping out the weed lollies had definitely been a good idea. She was oh-so-glad Nebula came over.
Nebula could imagine having a supply of these weeded edibles on the ship. She could imagine Drax and Quill easily influenced, then wondered how it would affect the fox and the tree. If all of them consumed some at the same time, they’d probably take to becoming pirates so they could raid those luxury transports with buffets and snack panels.
Or they could steer themselves into the wrong wormhole and end up who knows where, but as long as there was food, they might be so relaxed, they wouldn’t care. It was a scenario that sounded very bad, no matter how you looked at it, for their health or their longevity, and for some inexplicable reason, it was absolutely hilarious.
“Kicking people can be fun,” she said, grinning. She let her head roll to the right, so she could see Hope. “But unless I want to fly the ship myself, which I could do, I’ll need Quill to pilot. That way, the rest of us could find Thanos and I’d… I’d…” She started to giggle. “I’d poke him in the eyes!” “He deserves a poke in the eyes,” Hope agreed heartily. “A poke everywhere, actually. Because he’s an asshole.” A big, purple, mean genocidal asshole - he was still out there, but had run off with his tail between his legs and wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon. Good riddance.
She sighed, finally getting up to grab some snacks - she didn’t keep a ton of unhealthy stuff in the apartment (otherwise she’d give into temptation) but she found some chips and dip, bags of popcorn, more pineapple orange juice (because cotton mouth was a thing) and -
Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. A whole stack. It was tradition.
“This ought to hold us for awhile,” she brought everything back into the living room. “To celebrate your first experience with Terran weed.”
“He is a very big asshole!” she called after Hope, then she sucked more on her lollipop, which was getting smaller and smaller and that was probably for the best. She could afford to experiment with this edible weed, as there was nothing in particular that required her attention this afternoon, but she didn’t want to overdo it. Nebula suspected if there was an emergency, she would be able to snap back to regular functionality without any difficulty. For now, she just went with the flow that her flesh and bones could enjoy.
She wiggled her fingers and toes, glad she hadn’t worn shoes, and realized she was a little hungry. Okay, maybe a lot hungry. Then Hope returned from the kitchen not long after this revelation with the equivalent of a buffet from one of those luxury transports.
“Oh, wonderful,” she said, sitting up properly and eyeing the sandwiches in particular. “And more juice!” She felt like if she were a little girl, she’d be bouncing in the chair and clapping her hands, but she wasn’t and she didn’t, but that thought was present.
“Lots more juice,” Hope agreed. She’d keep it coming. They’d also probably be running back and forth to the bathroom a lot, but that was okay. She had nowhere to be.
Life was mellow. Life was good. It wasn’t loss and a constant ache, not anymore. At least not until the edibles wore off, but she’d be fine with basking in bliss until then. Yum.