Carol Danvers was not, by nature, a patient person.
That wasn’t news to the people who knew her best. She had her father’s temper, easily flared and hard to control when it was let loose. But she’d mostly mastered it over the years, partly due to parenting Monica (subpar as that may have been) and partly due to becoming a de facto diplomat across galaxies. Negotiating peace treaties and trade routes, and being part space cop and part space politician meant she had to be composed.
Exercises in patience were a necessity to help her keep that composure, even here in Vallo. She had not once lost her mind here (although there had been a couple of close calls), and it was a streak she was keen on continuing. She took pride in being the exact opposite of her bastard father in every way, and even though he was long gone, that bitter determination still lingered.
So, she was playing chess with Stephen.
It wasn’t their first session and probably wouldn’t be their last because it was the perfect test of her temper. She spent most of the game with her fists balled up under her chin, brows heavily furrowed and gaze intently fixed on the board. She was actually good at chess — had played it plenty of times with plenty of people over the years, including Talos. But she liked to win, treated every game she played as fierce competition, and unfortunately for her, winning against Stephen was a near impossibility. He was some sort of certified grandmaster and was always steps ahead of her.
At least it was pretty outside, stationed at a table in the garden with a pot of some of Stephen’s diet-friendly tea between them. She was sure it was some sort of magic trick, but it felt pleasant back here in a way she enjoyed (not that temperature meant all that much to her, anyway). There were even butterflies flapping around, very spring-like. Maybe it was specifically engineered that way to help her chill.
Finally, she made her move and sat back, arms crossing over her chest. She looked up at Stephen with a sigh. “Hey, where’s my ring? I want to see it again.”
It was beautiful in the garden, honestly - one of Stephen’s favorite places to be when he wanted a quiet moment in the Sanctum, either to meditate or to just be by himself and dig around. Yes, literally dig around - there was something soothing about scooping out cup after cup of soil, putting it into pots, and digging up seeds to place into the dirt. Largely the garden was Wanda’s jurisdiction but they tended to share it, like everything else in the Sanctum and with each other - the whole point of marriage, he supposed, and something he’d very much gotten used to and was satisfied by, the same way he was satisfied with black soil caked beneath his nails that he’d have to clean off because it meant he was successful at actually creating something.
If it was a weather anomaly, well, he wouldn’t say - but the air was clear, and early in the morning when he was out here ruminating, the roses that they grew seemed to carry the aroma of strawberry jam for some reason. Right now it smelled like tea, steamy and fragrant, like a moderately sweet sort of chrysanthemum. One of his favorite blends - he’d composed it himself.
“Your ring?” he repeated, feigning confusion. But he was just teasing and grinned a moment later, casually opening a sparkly orange circle to reach in and grab the box from its little pocket dimension - the same place he’d kept Wanda’s ring (for all those weeks leading up to the embarrassingly hilarious proposal). “It’s still here - still perfect. How’s the plan coming along?”
Then he moved his rook on the board. Very strategic, as always, especially during these chess games - Carol’s concentration and her focus was always a sight to behold. Mostly Stephen just liked spending time with someone who had become his best friend.
Carol gave him a deadpan look that said ‘hardy har har’ without her having to say a word, then eagerly grabbed the little black velvet box as it was pulled from thin air and deposited into her hands. She held it protectively to her chest for a moment before opening it to peek inside. Just looking at it made her heart pound a bit anxiously, but she loved it. She knew without a doubt in her mind it was the perfect pick for Emme.
She shrugged, closing the lid again and setting it down right beside her cell phone after Stephen made his move. She scanned the board, her right hand thrumming away on the opposite arm. “I haven’t decided yet, not entirely,” she told him. “I’ve been running scenarios in my head, but I think I might just go really low-key.”
Emmeline wasn’t a grand proposal person, Carol knew that. She was very calm, down-to-earth, and collected. Although a karaoke proposal in front of all of Al’s sounded objectively fun and full circle, she had a feeling it would be less so in reality. She wanted to give Emme something she wouldn’t look back on in ten years and be embarrassed to remember, and she figured something more intimate was the way to go.
But then, maybe she’d be really into it? Being sure was the toughest part, and maybe she’d just have to plunge in without any sense of certainty in the end.
“You had a plan before the whole ‘lost in the snow’ incident, right?” She looked up at him curiously. “Tell me about it? Maybe I’ll get a better idea.”
“Um - ”
Wait, did Stephen have a plan? He chuckled and there was amusement in his eyes, clear as a blue summer’s day, as he scrubbed his hand over his goatee. “There were a few things I thought of - overall I just was waiting for the perfect moment, and the only reason I had the ring on me that day was because the Sanctum was going insane with the snow and I didn’t want it to spit the ring out at an awkward time.” So no, it was simply that he was awkward - digging around in a snowdrift as high as his waist, no big deal.
But it had turned out so he supposed he couldn’t complain - and actually made for a funny story, now that he had a chance to reflect. He picked up his mug (for fox sake, naturally) to take a sip of tea, a cool breeze drifting across his cheeks - garden magic, it was a delight. “But - I think I was going for something like...creating a magical ribbon, and she’d start at one end and along the way would be photos and little trinkets that are special to our relationship. Then at the opposite end of the ribbon, I’d have the ring.”
It was something he’d batted about in his head, anyway, because it was sentimental - Wanda liked sentimental things. She liked photos and creating memories (hence why she made dumb t-shirts and snapped thousands of pictures when Iryna had been in Vallo from the future), especially because she never got a chance to do that much before - there hadn’t been a lot she’d saved from her and Pietro’s childhood in Sokovia. Not even the family DVD collection had survived.
Carol smiled softly. “That’s adorable,” she told him sincerely, not a hint of sarcasm in the words. It was super sappy, but sap worked for him, for the two of them together. “Worked out either way, but that’s a sweet idea. You should leave it for an anniversary or a vow renewal. She’d still love it.”
She wasn’t going to steal the idea, but something filled with little mementos wasn’t a bad idea at all. She and Emme had the sappy thing down to a science of their own, too. Carol had never been much of a collector back in the day, but she’d learned from Maria and the full boxes she’d kept stowed away in their closet in the Louisiana house. In the year she’d been with Emme, she’d filled an entire shoebox to the brim herself.
“All I really know is the timeframe,” she said, following suit and picking up the cup of tea she’d been poured to take a sip. She knew it was a custom-made Stephen blend, and she made sure to hum approvingly. It was tasty, and he should be proud. “And that’s up for debate, too.”
She leaned forward again, fists tucking up under her chin as she examined the board. This time, she didn’t study for nearly as long before deciding to send one of her knights forward at a left angle.
It was a cute idea, and not something Stephen would have ever considered in the past - but he just wasn’t the best partner in the past either. He and Christine had their moments - when she’d presented him with the watch he still kept even to this day (Vallo had gifted him with it awhile back, but it was in a drawer in this world too), everything seemed to have this glow to it, like an icy moon in all of its imperfections; their relationship hadn’t been perfect either but the beginning was a lot better. When he wasn’t so closed off, when he didn’t take anything for granted.
Yet he’d blown it - he’d blown it again and again and again, and that was his own fault. The last thing he wanted was to do that with Wanda but he also knew that they were probably better suited - the multiverse had been trying to tell him that he and Christine were never going to work, they had been doomed not to, and he needed someone who fit in his world. Who could grow and change with him, as they both strove to be better - similar baggage, similar strife, similar griefs. It seemed to allow for a different sense of trust and understanding - and he was certain he loved Wanda more than anything.
“Well, if you want to use some magical ribbon I can devise it for you,” he laughed a little, which turned into a hum as he made his next move. “Or put your own spin on it. Either way, I know it’ll be great when you do propose. Emme really loves you. And Vallo’s a challenge, but - you have each other and that’s what matters.”
“I’ll file that option away under ‘maybe’,” Carol assured him. It was an interesting possibility, and she loved Stephen for being so willing to assist in whatever way he could. He was a solid best friend, willing to do anything to help Carol along in whatever she was pursuing. The whole body swap debacle made that evident — he’d given in for her because she’d ask, and honestly, what a softie.
She took another quiet moment to study the board before making her next move, an exceedingly safe one that hopefully wouldn’t leave her trapped. She knew it was a lose-lose situation regardless, but she had to try. Maybe next time, she’d challenge Wanda and see if that went any better for her.
“It probably doesn’t even really have to be great,” she admitted with a shrug, leaning back again to take another sip from her cup. “It will be, but you’re right. I know she loves me, and I love her back. She knows I’d do anything for her. I could ask her while we’re watching that British baking show and she’d say yes.”
That was said with a smirk and a show of overconfidence in the lazy shrug that accompanied it. But Stephen would know her well enough to see the nerves still buzzing beneath all of that. She did want it to be romantic and perfect and unforgettable.
Did it have to be great? No, not really. But was it all that much better if things were great? Of course. Though Stephen honestly couldn’t imagine what would make a proposal, meant to be a happy event, morph into a disaster - maybe if people suddenly went catatonic or something, since that was a thing that seemed to happen more than once in Vallo (once a year, perhaps? The yearly coma?).
However, that being said... “I think that because of the intent and the love there, it just becomes romantic no matter what’s going on at the time. Even if it’s a frantic snow day proposal. Or while watching the British baking show.” Hey, Stephen liked that one too - it was very soothing. And it gave Wanda lots of great ideas.
Ah, there we go - Stephen’s brain was going, going, going; whenever he dove into a game of chess he put on his ‘logical thinking’ cap and it was then he got to showcase his brain surgery skills, even if he could no longer hold a scalpel steady enough to do precise cuts. But puzzles, those he loved - a lot of his career was about solving the puzzles that were deemed too difficult by many in the medical field. “Check,” he grinned, with a flourish of fingers. Chess was always so fun.
Carol frowned, leaning forward to study the board again and see where she’d gone wrong and how to escape. This man had a galaxy brain (as the kids said), and it was as frustrating as it was impressive. But she liked a challenge, and she may be overly competitive, but she wasn’t a sore loser. She would accept her inevitable loss but not without a good fight.
The next move she made, reaching out with hilariously hesitant fingers — well, she could only hope it would save her for two or three more turns.
“Did you ever think about proposing to Christine?” she asked him, leaning back and raising her gaze to him again. She knew how important that relationship had been to him (and to the alternate Strange she’d dealt with during the Mountain Incident). She knew they’d settled into some semblance of friendship — like her and Maria when they realized an outer space/Earth long-distance relationship was just hurting their family — but she was curious about before.
“No,” Stephen replied right away, and he didn’t even really have to think about that. “I loved her but...I never said so. Not in the way I should have. There wasn’t enough openness between us for a marriage to ever be successful.” Their relationship hadn’t been successful, so why should a marriage? As he magically tied that silken knot at his neck to complete the look of a fine Armani suit, as he sipped a martini by his lonesome at the reception and gazed wistfully at the beautiful bride dancing with her groom, Stephen hated to admit that to himself - and he’d wanted to know why. Why couldn’t they work?
Maybe because it was obvious - their worlds were too different, and there wasn’t a larger universe where they actually could complete the puzzle to make a perfect picture. That realization was one that, obviously, his other selves hadn’t come to grasp.
But this one did - he supposed that was what made him different from all of them too. His hands cradled the mug as he stared at the board, his expression thoughtful with that usual deep-thought crinkle in his brow, though it was half related to chess and half related to the Deep Talk they were currently having. “I pushed her away but - I want to think I’ll find someone who is better suited for me. I’m ready for that, back home. Or at least a lot more receptive to the idea - as receptive as I can be, after jumping into the Dark Dimension to presumably fix an incursion.”
“Thinking about the purple lady again?” Carol teased him. She didn’t think Stephen had even gotten that woman’s name, but she’d heard him describe her — after the emotions and the urge to cry on her had passed. Magic and multiversal and extradimensional goings-on weren’t her area, but she wasn’t sure what to make of the purple lady and her claims of an incursion.
“On the plus side, you have found someone better suited for you,” she pointed out, “right here. Wanda’s your weirdo perfect match.”
Yeah, she ‘shipped it’ as the kids said. She hadn’t known either of them well back home, but she’d gotten to know them here — mostly together but separately, too. They fit in a way she couldn’t imagine Stephen fitting with someone else. And given what she’d heard had happened last back home, maybe it was their only chance to have that.
Stephen laughed. “Well, she was - really beautiful,” he admitted, and, yeah, the purple lady could spirit him away for a one-night stand or a romp and he wouldn’t have protested in the least. Of course, it wasn’t anything close to that - they probably had real work to do, like saving the universe. Again. After being filled in on incursions by Reed ‘The Smartest Man No Longer Alive’ Richards (of the Fantastic Four, who may have charted in the sixties), they didn’t seem like anything to fuck around with.
But no, even if Mademoiselle Purple was gorgeous, she wasn’t really who he was thinking of here. Or wanted to be with. Of course that distinction went to Wanda and always had - always would, for as long as Vallo held him in its lovingly weird embrace. “Though me and Wanda are uniquely suited.” His weirdo perfect match, as Carol said. They were both on a rocky journey with grief and loss, a similar path even at home - he knew what happened when they both lost control of that which raged within them. How capable of destruction both of them were. Maybe that was why he identified with her, why he understood her - and understanding was the key component of many a successful marriage.
“If anything happens, look after her for me,” he added, glancing up with a tightness in his eyes. Just preparing for the worst, as always. “We have stability now but - we all know things are never truly stable here.”
Well, this had taken a dark turn. Carol’s eyebrows popped up, but it wasn’t entirely out of nowhere. Their conversations tended to go this way — up, down, all around. They rarely had conversations that were all fluff and fun at all times, and with the nature of Vallo, especially lately — she understood why he would have those thoughts on his mind.
“I’ve got her,” she promised, deciding he didn’t need to be teased this time around. “She won’t be alone no matter how hard she may try to be.” She adored Wanda, and even knowing what she’d been like at her worst, what she’d done, she would always have her back. Not just for Stephen’s sake, but for Wanda’s. No chaos magic explosions or self-flagellation on Carol’s watch. “And back at you, with Em. She’s lost enough, and I don’t want to think of what she’ll be like if Vallo decides to punt me out of here.”
Carol was bound and determined to stay here and keep building this whole wonderful life with Emmeline. Hell, she was plotting ways to propose to her, and that wasn’t a decision she’d come to lightly. But they both knew Vallo had other plans sometimes, no matter how permanent it may feel sometimes.
“Good,” Stephen breathed out - and he wasn’t psychic, necessarily. He had the time stone but it wasn’t the same ‘get out of jail free’ card that it was back home (and even then, it had come with a heavy price). Things were different here - there was no predicting the waves, the comings and goings; it was like trying to keep the tide from rolling in, just utterly impossible because what would happen would happen and there was no preventing that.
He also fully expected their conversation to turn a bit darker - he especially had a tendency to go there, but that was because he really couldn’t fully rest. Paranoia was a driving force and he always strove to grasp whatever control he could find - he was getting better about it, yes. But things like sleep often evaded him because he was still haunted by things like fallen heroes, fallen champions from fallen and forgotten timelines that he’d sifted through in an effort to find one. So much loss, so much guilt he carried - he knew what that was like too.
“I promise I wouldn’t let Emme flounder - or spiral,” he assured. “You can count on me. In any timeline. Checkmate,” the troll added, with a smirk - because he made his next move and it probably wasn’t one Carol liked, but. He’d make it up to her - with something resembling pie, perhaps.
“Me too,” Carol agreed with a nod. “You can always count on me. No matter where, no matter when.” Stephen had never failed her, and she would never fail Stephen either. If that meant taking care of each other’s wives post Vallo being a dick, then so be it. It was a promise she’d sincerely make and sincerely follow through to the end. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t hold onto hope it never came to be.
But before she could get too carried away on that train of thought, damn it. “Already?!” she exclaimed, brown eyes sweeping over the board to make sure Stephen wasn’t mistaken. It was a fruitless task, and she let out an exasperated groan and crossed her arms over her chest like a petulant child. “You suck, and you owe me pie. And a game I stand a chance of winning against you, Chessmaster. Twister?”
It was Carol’s turn to smirk. No way they would really play Twister — it was the furthest thing from a serious suggestion — but she would totally cream Stephen if they did. She was very bendy and flexible, and Dr. Bony? Much less so.
Well, he had parkour-ed his way out of a sticky situation with Mordo (after basically goading him into a fight to get the magic cuffs switched between them - a tricky one, that Dr. Strange) so he wasn’t terrible at something like Twister. But he’d still rather not and was pretty sure he’d lose regardless - however, he would accept his already-inevitable defeat and still give it all his best shot. “Fine,” he agreed with an amused sort of snort-giggle. “But we’re doing that first and then having pie. I can’t Twister on a full stomach.”
Maybe he’d get Cloak to man the spinner - or it was possible that Wanda could find them and demand to know what the hell they were doing, all snarled up like pretzel dough just so Carol could claim a win to her name. That wouldn’t be anything new, for the record. It was very much their type of shenanigans when it came to the Marvelstrange duo.