Z. BETSY / CAPTAIN BRITAIN.

Rachel leaned in and turned her cheek to accept the kiss, but her shoulders instantly deflated as Pleasant Hill was brought up. “You’re right about it being an absolute mess.” She sighed, thinking back to hearing about how her mother’s neck had been snapped once she’d returned to Krakoa from the town. The Council meeting was apparently tense, but she couldn’t get her father to admit much more than that. “Have you seen how anyone else is doing that was brought back?”

“Hill’s been taken care of.” When Daisy realized how final that sounded, she raised her eyebrows and quickly backtracked. “She’s not dead, though. Just on a mandatory medical leave.”

Stephen nodded softly, not getting the answer he was really looking for but not wanting to push. And then she did the pushing for him and he raised a brow. “Stephen Strange of your Earth has found himself in a predicament with Death herself. I was wondering if your situation might give me a new perspective on how to help him.”

“Your accent is perfect the way it is. Sarcasm and all.” Rachel mused quietly as she planted a soft kiss to Betsy’s forehead and moved to go sit down at the table while Betsy’s telekinesis set the plates down. Her chin was resting on her hand as she waited patiently for the plates to be made. 

The statement made her freeze for a moment, wondering if they were taking things too fast. Things had been simmering between them before the Otherworld mission, but after that it felt like Rachel had been thrown overboard into an entire ocean of emotions. It was unlike her, but she just figured that she was really that in love. And she wholeheartedly meant those words. Otherworld, the Siege Perilous, Krakoa, it didn’t matter as long as she was with Betsy.

She was lost in her own thoughts for a few beats before she finally picked up her fork and hesitated, blinking and trying to shake away the seeds of worry she’d just felt being planted. “Is this a sandwich situation? Or do I cut it into pieces and eat it with the beans? I should at least eat it the proper way to get the full effect.”

“That’s a relief, because I’m not really interested in rebranding again. I feel I’ve had enough of that.” Psylocke, Lady Mandarin, Psylocke again, Captain Britain. Betsy’s worn a lot of hats over the years — and a body or two as well. She’s on her third one not counting Krakoan resurrections, and sometimes she’s reminded of that fact. Even when her skin doesn’t feel like her own, it’s more so than it was when she was Kwannon. Her body dysmorphia looks different than when she was young and a model or trying to acclimate to the shape of someone else. But enough of that. Betsy returns to the moment as she picks up the grated cheese and sprinkles some on the top of hers.

“Cheese is optional.” The bag is set between them. Betsy can’t help but scoff. “Jesus, Rachel. Do you think we’re animals? Not a sandwich situation, no. Use a knife and fork. There’s so many beans on here that you won’t be able to pick it up if you wanted to. Some put the beans on the side, but never trust someone like that. Just cut it up and eat it.” 

“It was one time.” He looks sullen, serious. “So you can laugh, one time, but then it’s time to drop it.” 

"Yeah, I bet I look real good for my age."

“You want my two cents? It’s just a different kind of mess everywhere I go. That’s all I’ve got to say.”

“There is effort involved in seeing possible futures. It requires concentration. If you assumed that it comes easily or freely, that’s your own fault.”

“I am not here to listen to your whining. The Avengers must deal with the consequences of their own actions in Pleasant Hill. I want no part of it.”

When Betsy repeated it out loud, Rachel realized the word choice and wondered if maybe she’d pushed it too far. They’d been doing so good without putting too hard of a label on what they had, but maybe she was misreading things. The last thing she wanted was to scare Betsy away somehow. But then Betsy was squeezing her hand and all of that self doubt drifted away as Rachel smirked and pointed to her cheek. “I’ll take a cheek kiss for now and save the rest for a rainy day.”

“I feel like the accent kind of blends in with sarcasm most of the time.” Rachel confessed playfully with a smirk as she kept her arms wrapped around her girlfriend’s waist and watched her work on the stovetop.

It was simple enough, and even though Rachel was teasing, she was going to try it regardless because it was Betsy who was cooking it for her. After the long mission they’d just had on Otherworld, fueled by loss and strife, she’d take the lazy morning in with Betsy any day. Even if that meant trying beans and toast of all things. 

As Betsy moved to grab onto her arms, Rachel chuckled softly and couldn’t help but to nod at that statement. “I’d follow you anywhere.” She confessed breathlessly, pressing her lips together as she glanced at the beans on the stove once more and pretended to grimace. “Even into the dangerous territory of dinner food being served to me in the morning. Your hands made it, so it can’t be that bad.”

“Should I try American? Would that be more desirable?” There’s a lot of different types of British accents. Betsy knows her family’s posh stylings makes them stick out from the cockney or the brummie ones. She can attempt an American accent, but Betsy’s always hated how it sounds in her voice.

Two plates float down from the cupboard cushioned by purple energy and rest on the counter. Betsy does need to release Rachel in order to dole the food out onto two plates, however. “That’s a big declaration to make.” She looks to Rachel. For as in love as she is, Betsy’s been hardened by past experiences. She’s gone into some dark places that she’d never want Rachel to follow her into, even though Rachel’s seen darkness as well.

//

“Aw, thanks for de compliment, chere.” Remy grinned. He was being characteristically flippant, but considering what they had gone through, he  was trying to keep things light. He certainly appreciated Betsy checking in, but at the same time, he did not want everyone wondering whether he was alright now. Waving off her apology, he spread the cards across the table, then pushed them back together. “Non, no need for dat. I’m good. You know I’m awful good at bouncin’ back from gettin’ knocked down.”

“Did you just tsk at me?” His eyebrows cinched together as he titled his head. “Just can’t separate yourself from the tweed, can you.” 

Otherworld sounded like a truly different world, based on how Betsy had described it. Stephen surprisingly didn’t have any comments for her as he soaked it in for a few seconds, but then she mentioned their back-ups and his head tilted. “And how did you work around that problem?” It was a stretch, but maybe it could provide him some insight on what to do about his multiversal counterpart’s dilemma. 

“wow, thank you. finally somebody with common sense,” warren let out a slight laugh. the girl was familiar, but warren was positive he hadn’t known her from his time. with how she seemed to be looking at him however, the opposite was seeming more and more true. “and i dunno, everyone. it’s always, warren, smile! and warren, chin up! gets real old, real fast.”

warren let out a slow, deep breath, feathers bristling as he folded his arms in annoyance, “you know, staring isn’t the complement you think it is.”

Rachel’s red hair was thrown back into the messiest bun in the world, her locks getting too long for her liking. She’d need to go get it cut soon, but there was other things occupying her time. Things being Betsy. The two of them had been spending quite some time together, mostly just enjoying each others company on Krakoa after their insane stint in Otherworld. The entire ordeal had been exhausting, Rachel’s use of her powers tiring her out more than she’d care to admit.

It was Betsy who insisted that Rachel spend some time with her at the Lighthouse, hence why she’d woken up there in Betsy’s bed, barely clothed. It was really nice to just have some time to relax after everything, and she was soaking up every second of it. After throwing on a t-shirt and some boxers, she’d made her way down to the kitchen and was confused by the smell until she saw what Betsy was cooking and let out a snort. “Oh my God, you were serious. You’re literally cooking beans and toast.” She knew she was playing around a lot at the fact that Betsy was British, but she didn’t think it’d ever go this far. She thought Betsy was joking about the stereotypical breakfast in bed. 

Coming up behind Betsy, Rachel gently wrapped her arms around her and nestled her head into Betsy’s shoulder, enjoying the scent of the other girl’s lavender shampoo for a few seconds before planting a kiss to her cheek. “You’re amazing, but I’m not sure I can eat that. It feels wrong to eat beans for breakfast.”

“Of course I was bloody serious. Did I seem like I was kidding?”

Betsy scrunched her nose slightly, unsure if she was going to lean into the bit or not. In the end, she just shrugged a shoulder. Brian would tease her without mercy when he heard what she had done, but Betsy had vivid memories of their mother making it for him when they were children. At the end of the day, it just wasn’t that serious. Betsy had enough of that in her life. So much had devolved into anger, loss and darkness. There had been times when she more often realized she didn’t know who she was than she did. 

Darkness, darkness, and, now, light. Rachel.