Who: T’Challa and Bast When: August Where: T’Challa’s house What: Just a lazy sunday with each other Rating/Warning: Low Status: Complete
T'Challa stretched, rubbing his eyes before he pulled himself from his recliner, setting aside the book on theoretical physics he'd been reading. Bast was due to be over any moment, and he'd already set the Keurig to making a full pot of coffee. It was a lazy Sunday, full of sunshine and time on his hands and he figured before the busy work week started up again it'd be nice to share that lazy day with his girlfriend. As soon as his bare feet hit the floor the door bell rang. Smiling, T'Challa quietly padded over to the door, and opened it to reveal Bast's beautiful visage. “Goddess,” he grinned broader, giving her lips a kiss.
Bast had jumped at the opportunity of having a nice day with T’Challa. It was nice to have time together that wasn’t the craziness that was the OC or crazy hijinks (not that she minded the hijinks. Her arch nemesis - aka T’Challa’s ship - had now been christened and so she felt she’d proven her importance over it). Smiling against his lips, Bast returned the kiss. “Hello, T’Challa. How have you been? Anything interesting or new to report?” The words were said as she walked inside, plopping down on his couch.
T’Challa smiled, closing the door and watching her walk in. “Well, thank you. And no, not unless you enjoy theoretical physics.” He chuckled, following her into his living room but refraining from sitting just yet. “Would you like some coffee? It’s just finishing now.” The rich aroma of coffee was in the air and he wouldn’t mind a cup himself, he realized.
“I do not enjoy theoretical physics.” She laughed at that. “That sounds more like my brother’s territory.” Which, amusingly enough, had some stock in this conversation. “Funny story.” She made herself comfortable on the couch. “Which I will tell you after you bring me some coffee.” Because she really wanted some coffee...and she was also not sure how to explain what she’d seen on the television the other day. It had been a little unusual.
“Your brother?” T'Challa's eyebrows raised a bit. “I did not know Thoth had such interests. They neglected that in the hieroglyphs, clearly.” He teased, though he had to admit his curiosity was piqued a little. It shifted when Bast offered a story but stopped short.
“Oh? I'm curious now.” He smiled and went into the kitchen to prepare their coffee. He had two mugs, his was pure black coffee, Bast's with a healthy dose of cream in it, just the way she liked it. He returned with a small tray with the mugs and some treats alongside them: girl scout cookies. Tony Stark wasn't the only one who knew how to hoard them.
“Your coffee,” he lowered the tray before her so she could take hers, along with any of the proffered cookies.
“He is the god of knowledge and wisdom. Of course theoretical physics would be right up his alley.” Her smile grew more. “You have not met him, of course, so you would not know him the way I do.” For the briefest of moments, her smile shifted to a frown. They did not get along. It was likely because she had abandoned her post. She had disappointed her brother.
She took the coffee, smiling again as she sipped at it. “I happened to stumble upon a movie the other day.” She allowed for a long pause. “My brother Thoth was in it, though not really as I remember him. Then again, everyone is changeable. I could look like anything and anyone I wished, but I don’t.” She was going to get to the point eventually. It was just taking a moment. “The entertaining thing was that he looked quite like you. Unfortunately for him, Set ripped his brain out of his head. Set is always doing things like things, I guess.” Set was, as Americans might say, a dick. Though, usually he was not a white, Irish man. So that was strange. “Set was not nearly red enough. He usually appears as one of those football enthusiasts with body paint everywhere. Not that it matters.”
T’Challa smirked. “That is true.” He gave her a quick kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.
He settled into the couch after she took her drink, pushing aside some books to the far side of the table to make room for the tray. Settling into the couch next to her he took his steaming mug and said before sipping the dark brew, “Oh?” Eyebrows raised, waiting for the rest.
T’Challa blinked, not realizing she had this particular power. “You can? I thought you could only take the form of a cat.” This was certainly news. Then again, should he be surprised? She was a goddess after all. How many mythologies had gods and goddesses constantly changing into things?
As Bast told her story, she got a surprised look from him at the news. Then again, he realized, of course this made sense. After all, he knew now that his life was on film, or would be in full come next year. So it stood to reason that the man who played him also was in other films. Still, what were the odds he’d played Bast’s brother? “That...must have been a bit disturbing.” He wasn’t sure he would have handled it as well as Bast was. “What was the name of the film?”
“It was a little unusual, I suppose. Though, Isis and Osiris were siblings, but that doesn’t really mean very much. They were two sets of twins. Nephthys and Osiris and Isis and Set.” She was of two minds about it. She wasn’t so bothered on the one hand because it wasn’t abnormal in the dreams, but in the world she was a part of now, that wasn’t exactly...acceptable. “In the grand scheme of things, almost every god or goddess comes from Ra’s side of the family.” A pause. “But the name of the film was Gods of Egypt. It was a very unusual film.”
“As for the other stuff...it is an illusion, I suppose,” she said quietly. “When I turn into a cat, it is mostly Muffin since she is my host. In the dreams.” She looked down at her clothes now. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a cream colored blouse. “Hmmm. Hold on.” She stood, walking out of the room and walking back in. She didn’t change her appearance, but she did change her clothes. Instead of the jeans and blouse, she wore a dress, the same color as her blouse that hugged her curves and sat at mid-thigh. Of course she had not really changed them. She’d just had him see a change. Should he look very hard, he would likely be able to see through the illusion.
“I always found Egyptian mythology both fascinating and confusing.” T'Challa admitted with a chuckle. “Too much to keep track of sometimes, especially when a new dynasty would come in and rename the gods. The gods of Wakanda are much simpler.”
T'Challa watched as Bast suddenly got up and left the room. He wondered precisely what it was she was going to do. When she came back, he couldn't help but stare. Blinking he stood slowly. “That is incredible!” He paused mere inches from her, looking intently for the break in the illusion. At first he couldn't tell, and reached out, fingers brushing against her side. He saw the dress but felt the blouse and where it met her jeans. As his hand moved he could just barely see the break in the illusion. “Unbelievable.” He grinned.
“Were you a magician, it would be easier to push through it.” She laughed a little. “But I forgive you all the same.” Not that there was anything that needed forgiveness. She gave him a quick smile before dropping the illusion. “The trick is to be able to see the illusion for what it is. Then you can break it. Carter is very good at seeing through illusions. Then again, I had to tell him to look through it at first.”
She leaned up to kiss him, smiling against his lips. “That’s how I disguised my eyes before. I do it still sometimes, but not as often. Only at work and places where I have to.” Her hands crept around T’Challa’s waist. She waited a whole minute (or was it 30 seconds, she couldn’t be sure) before they slid down and rested on his ass. What was shame anyway? She lingered for a moment before taking his hand and dragging him back over to the couch.
“Now what are we doing for our lazy Sunday hangout?”
T'Challa returned the kiss, lips spreading into a smile matching Bast's - especially when he felt her hands rest on his ass. He nuzzled for a second kiss before saying “As fun as it looks, I'm glad you do not need to use illusions around me. I love you precisely the way you are.”
Following her back to the couch he picked up his coffee and reclined again into the ultra plush couch. “Anything you like. We could go for a walk, see a movie - one that does not have my doppleganger in it, preferably.” His eyes sparkled with humor at that. “We could spar...but you know how that usually turns out.” And there was a cheeky look on his face.
She rolled her eyes involuntarily, but she didn’t stop smiling. “You are hopeless, but I am glad. I don’t think I can be anyone but me.” And even if she could, why would she? She had no idea. She was glad they’d moved past the weirdness that had come with her cat eyes. It was the only time that she’d been concerned about how he felt about her.
“I do know how our sparring sessions end, but can you really find anything wrong with our general reaction to fighting each other? It’s the only sort of foreplay that matters and I like pinning you.” Her smile had officially turned into a smirk. “But if we’re being lazy, sparring is probably not the way to go. I’m more than happy to curl up here and watch a movie with you.”
T'Challa laughed. “That is quite true.” Yes, she did generally get the upper hand and end up on top - but more than half the time it was because he let her. Not that he would ever reveal that to his competitive girlfriend. But he couldn't resist letting her win, and the victory ride that ensued afterwards.
“Then a movie it shall be,” he said. Glancing at the cookies he said, “though perhaps I should make popcorn.” He took his mug and the tray, pausing only to ask, “Unless you want these as well?” He then rose and headed back into the kitchen. “Any preference? Movie theater? Kettle? Natural?”
What T'Challa had neglected to remove from the table was his dream journal, something he'd been scribbling in before he'd picked up his heavy reading. Normally it was safely tucked away out of sight from any nosy guests, but it sat there now, a simple brown leather book with a pen and sketch pencil on top. The remote to the television sat on top of it as well.
Bast likely would have been a little upset if she’d known he let her win. She didn’t want to win because she was allowed to. She wanted to earn her win. If she didn’t win, she wanted to learn from it and get better. That was the point of sparring...well, outside of the part where eventually it led to sex.
“The buttery kind.” Because buttery popcorn was the best popcorn. The ones that had so little butter involved were just...very sad. So incredibly sad. “Probably all the popcorn, though.” Basically, if you let her, she would probably eat everything. But there were likely to be naps in between eating.
The journal had not gone unnoticed, but Bast hadn’t really looked at it. Curiosity killed the cat. She was a cat. She stared at it quietly for a moment, looking over toward the kitchen. The urge to knock it off the table “accidentally” was high, but she also knew it was an invasion of privacy.
T’Challa laughed from the kitchen. “That could take a while. Perhaps we’ll start with the movie theater and Kettle.” Since those had the most flavor. His personal favorite was the Kettle Corn, thanks to being raised in the Midwest where it was more common to have at county fairs and such.
T’Challa had been sketching Bast of all things. His latest entry would not have had much besides that, since he no longer dreamt, but on occasion he mused about the parallels and differences between his girlfriend Bast and his Dream goddess Bast. He had chronicled everything and this one was only one of a few journals he had (seeing as he had dreamt so much he now had several volumes).
He waited at the microwave, oblivious to Bast’s curiosity of said journal, his view obscured by the kitchen wall.
“That sounds good.” She sipped at her coffee, trying to focus on T’Challa and not the journal. She still wasn’t going to do anything with it, but that didn’t stop her from looking at it every so often. If nothing else, she could always ask what it was. If he told her, that would be okay, if not, she wouldn’t know. She didn’t know what it was, so she didn’t want to get into trouble for peeking at someone’s private thoughts.
Instead, she turned to stretch out on the couch, putting her cup of coffee on the table. “Any ideas on what sort of movie you want to watch? I’m assuming it’s a no on romcoms. What about murder mysteries? Documentaries on Egypt?” She was mostly just throwing things out. She didn’t have anything in mind herself. She would happily look around and eventually find something. That was half the amusement.
“Anything but romcoms,” T'Challa laughed. “I don't understand how anyone can watch those.” He mused a moment, listening as the first bag of popcorn started to near it's run in the microwave as the staccato pops lessened with each passing moment. He couldn't think of anything outright. “Check Netflix.” He called, opening the microwave and dumping the contents of the steaming bag into a large mixing bowl. He padded back into the living room with it while the second bag popped away in microwave. His mouth was nearly watering with the tasty smell of butter and salt in the air.
“Goddess,” and with a smirk he suddenly knelt and held it before him, head bowed and arms outstretched with the bowl between his hands - like so many of the images of hieroglyphics that depict people offering things to the Egyptian gods.
Bast laughed to herself. “Oh, they are easy to watch. There’s plenty of things that are hideous out there in the movie world. Romcoms just make you feel good about everything.” Except the ones that were just really, unfortunately awkward. Those ones just made everyone feel uncomfortable for long spans of time to get to the less uncomfortable parts. There was always a good, plain old comedy.
But she waited for Netflix to load and looked for something to watch. She eventually settled on The Great British Baking Show. Okay. So it wasn’t a movie, but it was still good and it involved cake. She loved cake. And baked goods. Basically everything. She had meant to pick a movie, but alas.
“Thank you.” She took the bowl and smiled brightly. “Now get on the couch and let me curl up next to you.” She carefully pulled herself into a seated position so that he could sit next to her.
T’Challa obeyed and sat down, deciding he’d get the kettle corn once they ran out of the buttery popcorn. His microwave wouldn’t burn it, he was excellent at timing it perfectly.
“Baking?” he questioned, but one look at his girlfriend and he knew that it was better to go with it than to question it. “Baking. So be it.” And he grabbed a handful of popcorn as she hit play.