Marvel OC Hub

JARVIS' brand-new projected form flickered to life beside him at the counter. That was just one more thing Tony had yet to grow accustomed to: his beloved AI assistant taking on the appearance of his childhood butler.

A very convincing facsimile of irritation drew the AI’s transparent blue brows together. "Miss Martel is inundating me with requests for crispy bacon, pancakes and 15 weight oil. Might I suggest gently rousing her from sleep?"

Tony chuckled into his mug of coffee. He had planned to let his soulmate sleep in that morning, but apparently her mutant abilities had their own agenda. "On it, buddy. Time to work on turning the master bedroom into one oversized Faraday Cage."

Something had to be done about her sleep-talking to JARVIS. It had only been a couple weeks since she moved into the Malibu mansion, but her harassment of Tony’s personal AI hadn't showed any signs of slowing down.

JARVIS solemnly nodded in agreement. "While you're at it, perhaps one for Dum-E and U as a sort of time-out kennel would be beneficial?"

"Growing jealous of your older brothers, are you, J?" Tony raised a brow, giving the projection a judgmental side-eye. “Maybe we should adjust your projection to glow green instead.” 

JARVIS returned his attitude with a fed-up look, complete with a tight-lipped frown. "You know just as well as I that I am incapable of experiencing such things."

While JARVIS was technically correct -- emotions were never a part of his programming -- recent events and interactions with Tiffany had Tony questioning what J really was capable of. The AI's sudden desire to make his presence known visually was unexpected and completely unprompted. 

Evolution, it seemed, was not only for organic life forms.

"One thing at a time, J. If I have to wake Peaches up, I better go in prepared," Tony carefully selected a mug from the cupboard, then turned back to JARVIS' glowing blue projection. "Hot coffee, with an obscene amount of sugar."

"An acceptable offering to start. I've taken the liberty of ordering the bacon and pancakes, but I believe maple syrup would be entirely more palatable than motor oil," JARVIS said dryly.

"Good call, buddy," Tony replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he stirred three entire spoonfuls of sugar into Tiff's coffee. "Give us some privacy until it arrives?"

"Gladly."

Was it Tony's imagination or did JARVIS actually roll his eyes before his projection fizzled out abruptly? He squinted for a moment at the empty space before shrugging and returning to the task at hand.

Tony walked up the stairs to the bedroom with Tiff's favorite mug warming his hands. Standing in the entrance for a moment, he watched her slow, even breaths, reminding himself that she really was there in his bed. 

His soulmate.

The one he was convinced he didn't deserve, and that she would be better off without him.

It took almost losing her to realize that he needed her. And now, only a few months after they decided to give this soulmate thing a try, he refused to imagine his life without her.

She was a rumpled vision before him. Despite the morning sunlight filling the room, she was fast asleep, laying on her stomach with her head facing Tony's empty side of the bed. The blanket had somehow wound its way around her right leg while her left was uncovered so that he could see those ridiculous neon orange shorts she wore as pajamas. Tony snickered, noting how she didn't look remotely comfortable, her head wasn't even on the pillow! 

Approaching quietly, Tony set the mug on his nightstand and climbed onto the bed. "Honey?" he whispered, not wanting to startle her. 

She didn't even flinch. 

"Peaches, sweetheart, you're spamming JARVIS againnn," he sang out softly.

"Hrmph," Tiff grumbled, not opening her eyes.

Tony scooched in close to her, brushing her long, dark hair away from her face. "Wake up, Fanny," he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and wrapping his arm around her waist.

Tiff's eyelids fluttered and she blinked a few times, glaring at him. "You know I hate that name," she muttered, yet she still returned his embrace, nuzzling against his chest. 

Oh, he knew. Tony grinned against her hair. "It was an emergency. I really don't need to have J inciting a robot revolution against us," he pulled back just enough to kiss her forehead. "You know you dream of some terribly inedible condiments."

"Oh god," Tiff groaned, her voice muffled by Tony's t-shirt. "I'm sorry, J!" she called out, looking at the ceiling mournfully.

"Save your apology for later. He can't hear you right now - I asked for privacy mode. We have until your pancakes arrive."

Tiff pulled back, her blue eyes sparkling in the morning light, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of red. "Bacon too?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course. Only the crispiest for you, honey. J put the order in himself."

"He's the best," Tiff gushed, smiling dreamily.

"Yeah, he does okay. Just don't forget who his daddy is," Tony reminded her, tracing his fingertips over the soulmark on the inside of her bicep.

"Don't be so sensitive," Tiff pressed her lips together, clearly holding back a smile at his exaggerated pout, "You know you're my favourite."

Tony leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. "I don't know, if I was your favorite, wouldn't you be sleep-talking to me? I could order you breakfast too, you know," he said, bumping their noses together.

“You’d actually have to be in bed for me to sleep-talk to you,” Tiff countered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Fair point. How do you know I wasn’t already making you breakfast down there -” Tony began, ignoring Tiff’s snicker, “-and then you put in a completely different order with JARVIS and I had to scrape my hard work into the trash?” he finished, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye.

“I would say that, in that unlikely scenario, unless it was grilled cheese, the trash is exactly where your cooking belongs,” Tiff’s lips disappeared as she pulled them over her teeth, her face flaring bright red.

It was entirely unfair how beautiful Tiff looked when she teased him back. It was practically criminal how much he loved her for it. “That’s it,” Tony grumbled, narrowing his eyes playfully, “your talking privileges have been revoked.”

Before she could get more than a half-stifled giggle out, Tony captured her lips in a retaliatory kiss that felt more like a hard-earned reward when she threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed back. 

The woman chuckled and straightened up that leg. "Caught me," she put a hand over her chest. "One of these days, you won't."

"I will keep my eyes sharp and open when you are around," T'Challa promised her. Beside him, he could see the tight-lipped smile Okoye was battling with on her face. He had half a mind to send her away but that would out him. Instead, he put all of his attention on the woman standing in front of him.

She was waiting for him with a polite smile on her face. Her curly brown hair was neatly laid on the left side of her neck but the light breeze in the air would occasionally pull loose strands.

"Agent Del Rio, welcome to Wakanda," he said, making her smile widen.

"It is beautiful as always and, just as always, my name is Citlalli. I beg you to use it," she glanced at Okoye with a polite smile. "Nice to see you as well."

Okoye gave a dutiful nod. "Likewise."

Citlalli put her hands together in front of her. "I am ready to start whenever you are," she said to T'Challa. "But I need to return to Virginia by the end of the day."

"Of course," T'challa gave her a nod. She was always on a schedule given her work in the C.I.A. but he always managed to stretch her visits longer than what she always scheduled for.

Citlalli motioned him to lead the way back to the palace. She assumed their meeting room was already waiting for them.

"Actually, I thought we could do something different," T'Challa said, much to her surprise. "It's just you and I this time so I thought we would have more time, you know?"

"Ah," Citlalli slowly nodded, "O-okay. Where would you like to have the meeting?" T'Challa set his eyes on the city beside them. Citlalli didn't quite understand until she followed his gaze. "Oh." She blinked.

T'Challa smirked. "Shall we?" he motioned her to walk first. Slowly, she did. T'Challa followed behind her but he met Okoye's smirk on his turn.

"Hardly a place for a meeting," she mumbled as they began to walk.

"Shh," he promptly told her.

~ 0 ~

"This is hardly a place for a meeting," Citlalli would unknowingly repeat Okoye's words later on in the day. She and T'Challa walked side by side down the bustling city. "I am not wearing the right clothes, either." She fanned herself with her hand every now and then. It was a warm day today.

"Nothing wrong with a change of air," T'Challa shrugged his shoulders. He enjoyed watching her curious eyes gaze over the many stalls lining their sides. Despite being one of the people allowed in Wakanda-the only agent allowed for that matter-she'd never gone out of the palace during her visits.

"Of course not," Citlalli agreed, "But, as I said, I am here to talk business." She glanced over her shoulder and saw the Dora Milaje walking a good distance from them. Privacy reasons and whatnot. "And besides, we could save the Dora the walk, couldn't we?"

"They are fine. Trust me, Citlalli," T'Challa insisted. "What are we supposed to be talking about?"

Citlalli sent him a flattened-expressed glance. "Did you not read the file I sent you prior to this meeting?"

"Of course I did, I just wanted to make sure you read them. Have you?"

Citlalli couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. For a King, he was rather funny sometimes. She tucked a curl behind her ear and sighed. "Alright," she conceded with him. They could discuss their potential plans outside. It was actually rather beautiful outside anyways. "It's regarding the center you recently opened in Oakland. Stark is interested in aiding with the funding."

"I am very thankful for it but Wakanda is more than capable of taking care of the finances of the program," T'Challa said, purposely stopping in front of a stall.

Citlalli was forced to do the same without noticing what the stall was offering. She was focused on the conversation. "Of course, nobody doubts that. I certainly don't but the idea is-"

"Would you like some?" He offered her a small piece of bread.

"What?" She blinked at it, having been thrown in the middle of her conversation. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course, what kind of person do you think I am?" He offered the bread again.

Citlalli sighed. "I didn't exactly bring money to go shopping."

T'Challa smiled at her. "My treat."

Citlalli raised an eyebrow at him. "Does that mean you will pay?"

Before T'Challa could explain to her how it usually went, the seller herself told her that it was really her treat. How could the King pay and much less a friend of the King?

With that, Citlalli had no choice but to accept the bread, or whatever it was. She took it from T'Challa and dropped it into her mouth. As soon as she started chewing, sweet flavors of honey and nuts flooded her mouth. "Oh, that is good." She covered her mouth as she went through the several stages of divine tasting.

T'Challa chuckled at her. "I thought you would like it. I remember you mentioning your like for honey."

"Mhm," she nodded. "You remembered that?" It'd been an off-handed remark in a conversation she could barely remember about right now.

"Of course," T'Challa said in a matter-of-fact way that made her pause for a moment. She studied him. "What is it?" He asked her when the studying lasted minutes and it became unavoidable.

"I'm just trying to figure you out," Citlalli shrugged. She began to move again, prompting him to do the same. "I never considered you to be the type of King who walks through his own city."

"Is that bad in your eyes?"

"No," Citlalli smiled at him. "It's humble I guess."

"I am glad you think so. Can I show you something else? I think you might like it." T'Challa picked up his pace to reach another stall.

Citlalli had to sprint a bit to catch up. They ultimately stopped by a stall full of flashy jewelry. She was delighted at the sight. He knew that she loved accessories. Her favorite, though, were the...

"I thought you might like this one," T'Challa took one golden snake-head bracelet. She was always drawn to the serpents because of her background.

Citlalli's smile faltered at the sight of it. "Um..." she swallowed hard. "That's very beautiful but...I don't wear that stuff anymore, you know that."

T'Challa nodded. "Because you haven't found your people yet, but I have no doubt that you will."

Citlalli never knew whether or not she regretted telling him the story of her lost village. She trusted him to keep the secret to himself but she wasn't sure if she was alright with the fact that someone else knew about her personal mission, a personal mission that she was failing miserably at. "You're kind with your faith but my personal agendas should not be any of your concern," she offered him a polite smile. "You're King. You have enough on your to-do list."

"I will always make time for a friend." T'Challa suspected that if Okoye could hear the conversation, she would've scoffed for sure. He was guilty of wanting to offer Citlalli a lot more than friendship.

Citlalli lowered his hand with the bracelet to the stall. "Please," she whispered, eyes falling low with distinctive pain. "Can we go back to the meeting?"

T'Challa was alarmed with the hurt in her eyes. That was never what he intended and the fact that Citlalli even showed that type of feeling meant she was truly hurt about something. No doubt it pertained to that personal agenda she had. Ever since he met Citlalli, which had been under the worst circumstances due to his own pain with the death of his father, she always gave the aura of strength. She was strong, brave and best of all, a mediator. She liked solving problems and providing the justice that most people didn't get. But it appeared that her solitude was slowly getting the best of her.

"Citlalli—" He tried to mend is mistake but she simply asked him if they could talk about the meeting again. He didn't want to make her feel any worse so he had to agree.

The rest of the day was, lamentably, all about the details of the outreach program and a few other potential programs they could start. At the end of the day, they returned to where they started. The jet was already waiting for Citlalli.

"Before I go," she said, "this was from Stark." She produced an envelope from her pocket.

"Do we have any idea what it is?" T'Challa raised the envelope to the sky to see a few words through the paper.

"I might," Citlalli rocked back and forth on her feet. T'Challa gave her an odd look until she answered, "I may have gotten one myself."

"Gotten what?"

"It's an invitation. Stark is throwing a birthday party for Miss Potts. Very nice place, very sunny place, so if you go, you should keep that in mind for clothing preferences."

"Will you be attending?" T'Challa curiously asked her. He had no idea where that act of bravery came from but he thanked Bast that it came.

Citlalli sheepishly shrugged. "My relationship with Tony Stark is terse at times but I do appreciate what he's trying to do for people after, uh, what transpired with the Accords. Plus, Pepper is a good friend."

T'Challa had all the information he needed. "I will see you there."

Citlalli half smiled at him. He always spoke so easily, she envied it. For all her experiences with people, royalty, he always made her feel like she wasn't doing enough. He simply made her forget things she knew how to do - like talking. Why he kept such an open friendship with her, she had no idea. Surely there were other agents he could speak with.

You're the only agent allowed in Wakanda. What's that about? She ignored the warmth in her chest each time she remembered that detail. He'd chosen her to do Wakanda's business whenever it came to speaking through the C.I.A. Why? It was an answer she never got an answer to and truth be told, she was a little afraid of what the answer was anyways.

"It was lovely visiting, as always," she spoke up after realizing she spent a lot of time thinking silently. "Your city..." she glanced at the city's landscape on their side, "It really is magnificent."

"Hopefully next time I will be able to show you much more of it," T'Challa said, really having faith that the next time she visited, he would get it right and be able to show her everything.

Citlalli nodded. She held a hand out to shake with him. T'Challa took her hand and shook it but just as Citlalli would pull her hand from his, he gripped it. She raised an eyebrow at him, curious. Had they forgotten to talk about something?

T'Challa would then raise her hand in his hand to press his lips over it for a kiss. Citlalli felt a deep warmth over her face. T'Challa looked at her from under his lashes, smiling at her in a way that spread the warmth down to her stomach. Butterflies would even arise.

"I hope to see you at that celebration," T'Challa lowered her hand between them but without letting it go.

Citlalli had to catch her breath before even thinking about speaking. "See you..." She swallowed hard, immediately feeling the cold when T'Challa let her hand go.

Very unprofessional! The voice in her head scolded. She turned to leave as soon as her feet responded. She couldn't trust herself if she stayed another minute.

T'Challa was left to watch the jet disappear in the sky. In a matter of seconds, Okoye had stepped up beside him. "Well, will you really be attending that celebration?" she curiously asked, eyes wandering over the invitation T'Challa held tightly in his hand.

"If it is my only chance, why not?" He countered, smiling to himself. He wasn't all that into the idea of being surrounded by unknown people but if Citlalli was there then it wouldn't be that bad.

~ 0 ~

Stark's choice of scene for the party was, as usual, a grand site. Even Okoye would admit to it, but everything else was irritating.

"This dress is far too uncomfortable," she grumbled to T'Challa as they walked in through the entrance. He wanted no Dora Milaje around today and the only way that would happen is if Okoye accompanied him.

"You could go back..." He said far too innocently for anybody to believe him.

She threw him a sharp look. "What for? Agent Del Rio has no quarrel having me around. Do you?"

T'Challa purposely kept his gaze ahead of them. Okoye's smirk wasn't something he wanted to face.

They eventually came to the backyard, a large place for the party. There were far too many people around, none that really concerned T'Challa. He saw a few familiar faces amongst the crowd eventually, like Rhodey and Pepper. As politeness went, T'Challa moved towards the latter to wish her a happy birthday.

"Thank you for coming," Pepper smiled wide, especially when Okoye handed her their gift. "You really shouldn't have."

"I hope you like it," T'Challa sincerely said. His eyes swept over Pepper to see if he could finally spot Citlalli. Maybe she wasn't here yet.

"Tony!" Pepper called, motioning him to come over from wherever he was.

"The King!" They soon heard Tony's exclaim.

Okoye rolled her eyes as the man headed their way. To T'Challa's surprise, however, he was not alone. Citlalli was walking beside him, looking like she'd just entertained something no doubt "Stark funny".

"Nice of you to make it," Tony greeted the pair of visitors. "A change of sights doesn't hit bad, does it?"

"No," agreed T'Challa. He met Citlalli's gaze, brain racking to say something good to her as a greeting. The way she looked, though, would prevent much of that from happening.

Her curly hair had been tamed to one side again, braided to the tip. She wore a spaghetti-strapped jade dress. There was a silver beaded necklace sitting around her neck with matching small silver earrings. With little makeup, she boasted her natural beauty, whether she realized it or not.

"Your majesty," she beat him to the greeting, just like she typically did.

T'Challa wondered when he would be able to say the first word to her. Probably when you stop staring at her. Perhaps then...or perhaps not. He tended to lose air when she was around. "Citlalli," he managed to say her first name this time around. Baby steps.

"Okoye," Citlalli flashed a smile at the woman. "I love the dress today. Red is your color."

"Thank you," Okoye pressed a hand down her side. "But I can't keep wearing this all day. How do you do it? And the heels?"

Citlalli and Pepper laughed together. The former then admitted that she wasn't all that used to wearing heels either. "When you're a C.I.A. agent, you don't really get down time for big heels. But Miss Potts over knows her way around pencil skirts. I think that's worse." Okoye's face might as well have said there'd been a murder.

"We are not going to stand here and discuss skirts, are we?" Tony pretended to be oh-so-tired already. "There's music, there's dancing, food, amazing drinks. Please enjoy."

"Please do," Pepper said in a much kinder manner. "And thank you for coming." She headed off with Tony.

"I must admit I thought you would not come," Citlalli said to the pair when the others had gone.

"Why?" T'Challa curiously asked her.

"I don't know..." she shrugged, suddenly looking shy which was one thing Citlalli Del Rio was not. "I didn't think you and Stark were that close, that's all."

"We are not, but it is a good idea to be on a amicable terms for both sides."

Citlalli nodded with an understanding that only they would understand. After the Accords, everyone knew that the ties between Stark and most of the Avengers had been thoroughly severed. "I'm glad that you can do that," she said. "And I am also happy that you came."

Now that brought a good smile from T'Challa. "Really?"

Citlalli's eyes flickered to the side, hoping to calm that warmth in her face again. "Yes, I...I need to speak with you, actually."

It was surprising given the location they were in, but T'Challa would take it. He glanced at Okoye, not needing to say it out loud. She could barely hold the struggle not to roll her eyes.

"I will be over there..." she excused herself and walked away.

"You look beautiful today, agent," T'Challa said as soon as they were alone for fear that he would lose his courage. It was all worth it when she smiled bashfully. Did he make her shy?

"Thank you," Citlalli found her voice a few seconds later. She couldn't help but look him over—ignoring how utterly unprofessional it was—and concluded that he was as handsome as ever in his casual dark blue suit. If he moved, she would get a flicker of purple. "You look good," she returned when she was sure that she would be able to say it in one go.

"Would you like to dance?" T'Challa made a gesture to the ongoing dancing behind them. It wasn't quite his style but he could only dream of being that close to Citlalli and today he might just get the chance.

Citlalli's eyes flickered past him towards the dancing. "I was just dancing with Stark..." she started, already sounding weary as she began to remember it.

T'Challa chuckled at her expression. "I will not be like Stark."

"I doubt you could be," Citlalli said. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"Does it pertain to business?"

"No, not really."

"Then can we dance first? After that, I promise I am all ears."

Citlalli bit on her bottom lip as she considered the implications of a dance with him. It wasn't a slow dance but it did require for arms to be around each other's. Could she handle that? Whether or not she could, did she want to? Absolutely, she answered herself on the spot.

She finally gave him a nod. "Okay."

T'Challa reached for her hand, raising it first and foremost to kiss the back of it. She awarded him a soft smile in return. "Beautiful bracelet," he remarked as he led her towards the dance by the hand. Citlalli could feel his thumb grazing over the feathered jade-colored bracelet he mentioned and her skin. A ploy she wasn't really against.

"Thank you," she said once they stopped together. He turned to face her, picking up her hand to hold on their side. "Handmade," she would say as she moved her free hand over his shoulder. She swallowed hard when his free hand slid behind her back. He had the gentlest touch.

"You don't say?" T'Challa sarcastically asked, making her chuckle.

"My mom made it for me a while ago. She tried to get the most precious stones to make it," Citlalli explained as they started swaying to the music. "She tried to make it like home," she added in a quieter tone. Her gaze fell for a moment. Home was a raw subject even years after everything had occurred.

"That was very kind of her," T'Challa's voice would pull her out of her moment. He didn't know how he did it but he was glad he could. Citlalli met his eyes. "I have heard terrible stories of adoptive parents and their respective families. You have no idea the relief it brings me to know that it was not your case."

Citlalli half-smiled at him. "My adoptive parents never forced me to forget where I came from. But you shouldn't feel anything," she told him. "You've only known me for a year. Everything that happened to me was a long time ago. On different continents, I'll add."

"If it pertains to your well being, I can't let it go," he clarified.

"You simply care too much but I suppose that's what will inevitably make you a good king," she shrugged. "And a good friend."

Friend. It stung even though she used it so kindly on him.

T'Challa surprised her with a twirl. It had her laughing when she came back to him, leaning on him. He was smug when he grinned. "I can be many things, Citlalli."

She had to agree there. She peeled herself off him and continued to sway kindly to the music. "A good dancer, amongst those. Did Shuri teach you some of those moves?"

"The fact that you think I could only be a good dancer is if my baby sister taught me is quite offensive," T'Challa bobbed head as if he was doing his own little dance to the song. Citlalli giggled. She hardly did that too so when she did, T'Challa relished it. He may replay it in his head a couple times too.

"I would never offend you, your majesty," she drummed her fingers over his shoulder. "...but did she?"

T'Challa's face fell flat. When Citlalli started laughing again, he surprised her with another twirl. This time when she came back to him, he made it so that they were closer than before. She smelled sweet and floral, intoxicating and addicting. How dare she walk around like that and expect him not to fall for her? Because that's exactly what happened to him. He craved her presence whenever she wasn't around, and it was unfortunately like that most of the time. Her visits to Wakanda were sporadic just as his were to America.

Citlalli was very aware of their closeness and as much as she told herself to step away, her feet were only responding to the rhythm of their dance. If she were to move just an inch, maybe half an inch, something would happen that should not...but it was something that she really wouldn't mind either. "Uuh...can we talk now?" she thought to ask. Her question, though asked in a whisper, was still enough to break their moment.

T'Challa stepped back from her and nodded at her. She took his hand, an act that made things a little better for T'Challa, and led him away from the dance. She found a nice place near the gardens to have a private conversation. They took a seat on one of the benches overlooking the flowers.

"What's troubling you, Citlalli?" T'Challa asked as soon as they were comfortable.

"I was thinking about the last time we saw each other and...T'Challa, I am so sorry for the way I acted in that jewelry stall."

"What—"

"You were being kind and no matter what, I should have appreciated it. I know I have a hard attitude and sometimes I don't realize it then but I'm really sorry."

"Citlalli," T'Challa touched her cheek, an act that left her frozen while he spoke, "There was no problem there. My plan simply didn't work, but it wasn't your fault."

"Plan?" Her face scrunched. "What plan?"

"My plan to show you the city, of course, and see your smiles."

Citlalli's eyes flickered to the side in thought. "I...don't understand. I thought I was apologizing, it's been gnawing at my head since it happened."

"Please let it go, I hold no resentment. As if I could ever do that with you," T'Challa flashed her a smirk. "You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?" Citlalli watched him carefully. Her nerves were rising and she wasn't even sure why. Nothing was happening.

T'Challa's smirk faltered and soon it turned into a sad smile. "Nothing. This conversation did steer us towards something I wasn't sure how to best tackle."

"What do you mean?"

T'Challa motioned to Citlalli to give him a second. He shifted to better face her then reached for something in his inside pocket. Citlalli watched him pull out a small box. She was startled when he held it out for her.

"For me?" she pointed at herself with wide eyes.

"Yes, I chose it with great care. Open it."

Citlalli was hesitant at first but who could say no to him? She couldn't. She took the box from him and pulled it open. Her eyes widened even more when she saw a coiled, double wrapped snake bracelet tucked inside. It was golden with the stones of the snake head in her traditional color of jade. "This is beyond beautiful!" she gawked. "Where did you get this from?" It was hard finding those two colors together, she would know.

"I had this made for you," T'Challa explained, earning her fully stunned face. "I know that you always have a hard time finding things that are close to your home. Wakanda may be a place far away from where your village once stood, but I hope that this can make home feel a little bit closer to you."

Citlalli didn't know what she felt except for the stinging of tears in her eyes. "Oh...this is...T'Challa, you really didn't have to do this. I-I can't take this." She closed the box quickly and tried handing it back to him but he wouldn't take it.

"It's yours, Citlalli. The Serpent," he reminded her of her nickname that he himself had appropriated to her.

"Shush," Citlalli playfully warned him. Her vigilante name did not be said in the middle of a party where tons of political guests surrounded them. "Besides, don't you think wearing this might be a little on the nose? I masquerade as a CIA agent in the day while I go through not-so-legal networks by night." Hearing herself made her feel that much worse about the state of her life. "Honestly, sometimes I feel like I've gotten a bit lost on what my purpose was supposed to be."

"The circumstances leading you to come to America were beyond your control," said T'Challa.

"I was supposed to be a mediator between my people and our Gods. Now I cross the morality lines all the time," Citlalli retorted, "And I tell myself it's all for a good reason, but I still can't help but feel that I'm still a little lost..."

"There is nothing wrong with being lost so long as you try to get back on the right path." T'Challa reached a hand over to her cheek and cleared off her tears. "I would like to help in any way that I can."

Citlalli sniffed. "Why?"

T'Challa tilted his head at her. "Because I want you to be happy. It could be selfish of me but...I would like to be the reason you're happy. Whatever it is, I'd like to be it." Citlalli softly smiled at him. That smile counted for millions. "May I?" He motioned to the box. She nodded and opened the box for him. He pulled out the bracelet and took her wrist, gingerly sliding the bracelet down her skin. His hand caressed her skin as he secured the bracelet around her wrist. Citlalli felt the shudders of his touch and wished time would slow so that his fingers could stay over her for longer.

"Thank you," she said meaningfully. She could thank him for everything and it would still feel like it wasn't enough.

T'Challa was on the same page as her. "Thank you." He would never have the right words to express his gratitude for everything she'd done for him since the moment they met.

Citlalli shyly met his gaze, lips quirking into a small smile. Words weren't enough, but actions were. T'Challa's fingers came to her chin, gently pulling her forwards a bit. He leaned the rest of the way and pressed his lips against hers. Citlalli's eyes fell shut with the contact. Time did stop for them in the end. Her lips easily moved with his, discovering how truly soft he was. Everything about him was gentle and easy, even when those same lips of his were used to make little sarcastic comments every now and then. Little did she know that he thought the same of her. She was always professional, never saying the wrong thing. Sometimes, he wished he could get her to loosen up, and that was coming from him. Either way, however she was, he wanted her to stay just like that.

T'Challa pulled away first. He lowered his hand from her chin to her hand. He found her fingers to interlace with his and to his delight, she gripped his hand in return.

"You know, in my village, our stones were so beautiful and valued that we would use them in our conversations to refer to anything that we found precious." Citlalli's lips stretched into a wide smile. "To me, you're as precious as any one of those stones, even more." She touched his cheek, her fingers stroking a few gentle circles over his skin. "It's just hard to admit it with my hard attitude and all..."

T'Challa chuckled lightly. "You keep that hard attitude. I don't want to change anything about you." Citlalli chewed on her bottom lip while her insides desperately fought off the intense heat when T'Challa wrapped an arm around her waist. "My Serpent," he whispered fondly.

Citlalli brought her hands to her shoulders. "We're at a party—" Her laugh was muffled by another of his kisses. "Hardly the way a King would act, no?"

"I think I'm doing exactly what I should be doing," T'Challa said proudly. Citlalli playfully rolled her eyes at him. "Would you like to dance again?"

"I...guess..." The party did seem a more cheerful suddenly. Citlalli ended up nodding.

T'Challa let her go to stand up then offered her his hand. This time there was no hesitation when she reached out to take it. He pulled her up to her feet then kissed her hand.

She smirked. He saw her knees bending but this time, he couldn't stop her. She bowed. "Your majesty!"

"You did not—Citlalli!" He exclaimed. "Stop that!"

She giggled as she straightened herself up. "I told you that you wouldn't be able to catch me one day."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow at her. She nodded proudly. "Oh..." He pretended to accept his defeat only to snatch her body and pull her up to him. She yelped with the sudden yank. "Look at that, I just caught you," he said innocently.

Sam sat down across from her. "Would you like me to run to Target for a creamer?"

Given that they were in a town in the middle of nowhere, it would be a very short run.

Esme rolled his eyes and took another sip, pushing the dark-as-her-heart coffee down her throat, and continued reading the newspaper. "If they are new, they're about to be fired."

"You never were," Sam reminded her, " And you wrote plenty of articles that weren't exactly on the government's side. Nor the Avengers', for that matter."

Esme smirked at him. "I only wrote the truth."

"Mhm," Sam chose to drink from his mug. "Well, so did that journalist."

"Let's just hope they're not run off then," Esme muttered under her breath, leaving the 'just like I was' hanging in the air between them. "These days, writing something about us often leads to the involvement of the police."

"They don't mention anything about our whereabouts," Sam assured her it was all perfectly fine — in what fits. Their circumstances weren't exactly the best, hadn't been for the past two years.

"Is it weird that, as crazy as it sounds, I feel a little jealous that they got to write about me instead of me writing about me?" Even hearing herself made Esme laugh and how ridiculous it sounded. "Time was I could give firsthand testimonies about this stuff. Now I can barely even write my name on a piece of paper to check in at a motel. I even missed the little looks you used to give me when I wanted to publish something a bit more controversial."

She and Sam shared a chuckle with each other. God knows they had discussions about her more controversial articles but it was never about Sam wanting Esme not to write them. He just wanted her to be 110% sure that it's what she wanted to put out there and that she was prepared for the potential backlash she could get.

"You know if I could—"

"Don't even go there, Sam," Esme interjected, lowering her mug to the table. "I would gladly write my last article all over again. I'll be damned if the government shuts me up."

"That would certainly be a super power," Sam teased.

"One you seem to own at special times," Esme said flirtatiously.

Sam rolled his eyes at her, but she saw the little smile on his lips threatening to come out.

"No, the truth is that the government has been pressuring all media outlets to turn anyone who doesn't agree with the Sokovia accords into the bad guys. I'm just an example. Which makes this" — Esme picked up the newspaper in one hand — "a hell of a surprise to me. This writer has no idea what they're going to get themselves into."

"Look at it this way, you may have inspired this new writer to write the actual truth. They, like you in the past, chose to do this, because they knew it was right. Besides, they only wrote about your past."

"Leaving it up to the public to decide about me," Esme said, sounding somewhat proud. It had always been her tactic when she used to write for the Daily Bugle. Maybe this new writer had, at some point, been a fan of hers. "I just wish I could help when they're inevitably in trouble. The only thing that stops me from attacking back is you."

Sam's gaze softened at her. She spoke so casually about her "only reason" like it was a common known fact. He didn't like to think about all the things she sacrificed in the name of the Avengers — and him. He made the choice not to sign the Accords. He made the choice to stand by Steve and he made the choice to fight. It was all on him.

"Don't do that," came Esme's stern scolding.

Sam locked eyes with her and saw her flat expression. "Do wh—?"

"God, Sam, do you think I don't know what you're doing? You're the King of bottling things up!"

"Am not," Sam argued quietly, even scoffing for dramatic effect.

"Oh please!" chuckled Esme, throwing her head back. "That's why you and Steve get along so well! You both like to take everyone's choices and blame yourself for them. Well I am sorry to tell you, Samuel, that we little people make our own choices too."

Esme got up from her chair, abandoning the newspaper once and for all. She made herself comfortable on Sam's lap, draping her arm around his shoulders. "I made my choice and I stand by it. Ugly coffee and crappy motels and all."

Sam shared her smile and accepted her loving kiss.

"I'm going to shower," Esme said as she got up. "Do me a favor and try not to make a mess while I'm gone."

Sam mocked a salute as she gathered her things to shower. When the door to the bathroom closed, his eyes landed on the newspaper in the middle of the table. He read it several times more while Esme showered. Everything about it was true and he couldn't be any more proud of Esme. Her history of journalism had it always been to write the truth no matter how bad it could paint someone. Was it the most sound way to write? In some people's opinions it wasn't.

He himself had gotten into several arguments with her about her writing. Some of her articles did paint him and the rest of the team in a bad light. But even then, as much as Esme loved him, she couldn't back down from the truth. And the truth about the Avengers is that they did make mistakes. Mistakes that they had to own up to, including himself. But even despite all that, somehow he and Esme wound back together. They couldn't stay apart for very long. It wasn't the easiest of relationships but at the end of the day, they knew where they stood in regards to each other.

That was why when she wrote her last article for the Daily Bugle detailing about the Avengers and the government in Germany, Sam had come out of hiding to get to her before Ross did. He was sure that Ross wouldn't have necessarily put Esme on the Raft, but he sure as hell knew the man wouldn't touch his heart to put Esme somewhere equally terrible. He found Esme before any of that happened and she ran with him and the Avengers, no hesitation. Esme ran with the Avengers who had broken the law. In the government's eyes, she was as guilty as they were for fighting in Germany.

Sam reached over and grabbed the newspaper. He didn't understand how the very media Esme worked for had now turned on her. The Daily Bugle turned its stance around their ex-employee — their best writer, if Sam had to say — and we wrote several articles condemning Esme's work and public stances. It seemed, though, that they now had a new employee who was willing to test those waters. It made Sam smile a bit; one could say that the Daily Bugle had another Esme on their hands now.

Sam rolled up the newspaper and stood up from his chair. He listened to the water running in the bathroom then glanced at the table where Esme had left her coffee.

He tossed the newspaper into the little crummy trash bin at the corner of the room and got his jacket.

~0~

Esme had come out of the shower to find that her boyfriend was gone. She didn't think any of it since he was always out doing some kind of patrol with the rest of the team. She went about her own day, which involved exploring the new neighborhood they were in that day. She always took care that nobody recognized her. Today, she was lucky enough to have Natasha to pass the day. They spent their time going around visiting stores and anything else that wouldn't get them caught. When they returned to the motel, Esme was surprised to find her room dimly lit with candles and an amazing dinner set up at the table.

"What is going on?" she couldn't help her amused chuckle.

Sam was waiting for her and walked over to take her bags from her. "Thought I'd surprise you today, that's all."

Esme chuckled again while he set her bags on the ground. "Why?"

"Just because." Sam took her hand and walked her towards the door. "Went out and got some of your favorites."

"Sam, I don't think we should be wasting money…" Esme said sheepishly, "I bought the usual stuff—"

"It's not like we're low on it," Sam said, glancing at her pointedly. Their resources were funded by the King of Wakanda, of course. They just liked being careful about it.

"Yeah, but…" Esme looked at the table again, feeling a big knot in her chest.

They were all her favorites. Mexican food, strawberries and raspberries, followed by her favorite desserts, arroz con leche (rice milk) and flan.

"You really didn't have to," she said in a much quieter voice than she had planned.

"I just wanted you to feel better," Sam said matter-of-factly.

Esme looked at him confused until he gave her that sharp 'Don't lie to me' look. She flushed and looked away.

"You know you don't have to lie about that stuff," he said.

"I don't want you to feel bad," Esme replied. "And don't you lie to me either because we both know it's the truth. Every time we see something on the news about me, you always get so guilty."

"I can't help it," Sam shrugged. "You left your stable life because of me."

"No I did not," Esme said sternly. "The truth is that if you hadn't come for me, I would've probably been locked up a long time ago. Ross pressures anyone who's not with him and he would've found some way to lock me up. You didn't ruin me, Sam, you saved me."

"I didn't exactly bring you to a very luxurious life," Sam said, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his chest from her words.

"Oh," Esme turned to him and set her hands on his shoulder to then rest her chin over them, "because I was living in a 5 story mansion—"

Sam rolled his eyes at her.

"—with 10 butlers—"

"Alright," Sam said sharply.

"—and a jacuzzi in the backyard!"

Sam deadpanned her while her little smug smile grew into a wide grin. "Don't turn this into a very sad dinner," he warned.

Esme smirked. "Then stop being an idiot so we can enjoy our dinner."

Sam pressed a kiss on her forehead then proceeded to flick her on the same spot. She giggled and kissed his cheek.

"But just be warned if you got some ugly arroz con leche, this relationship is over!" Esme grabbed his hand and dragged him to the closest chair.

"So this whole relationship hangs on the basis of rice pudding?" Sam made a face. "That bodes well for me."

"Don't you ever call it 'rice pudding' again," Esme said dead serious.

Sam rolled his eyes and yanked her down on his lap. "Just taste it already and tell me if we're over."

Esme reached for the container and popped the lid open. She was gifted with a sweet cinnamon scent. She grabbed a spoon from a take-out bag and dipped it in the container.

Sam watched her taste it with a faux worry. "So, what's the verdict?"

Esme hummed as she swallowed. "Good news, you get to keep me for a bit longer."

"A 'bit'?" Sam said incredulously. "What the hell does that mean!?"

Esme chuckled as she ate some more. "Just know that I do expect at some point a 5-story mansion."

"I was thinking more of a little house a decent distance from the city," Sam said so thoughtfully that Esme paused her next spoonful of dessert.

She looked at him curiously and then decided to push that topic a bit more. "Oh yeah? What else do you see?"

"Papers everywhere," Sam said instantly, a smile making its way across his face. "Your work, half done and some barely touched but they're all so important and I can't mess with your thought process so they all stay where they are. One of them is underneath the coffee table."

Esme's lips twitched. That did sound like her.

"And there has to be a color theme because things have to match," Sam said, "God forbid the couches don't match with the t.v.'s table. I like the idea of my own little workout room but somehow there would be papers inside it too."

Esme's lips were struggling real hard not to let out a laugh.

"And the backyard has to be enough for us to have barbecues. Carné asadas," he said dramatically, and Esme nearly snorted at his terrible pronunciation. "A little hammock we could relax on in the afternoons…"

"That sounds very wonderful, Mr. Wilson," Esme nodded approvingly.

"It does," Sam agreed, meeting her eyes. "And someday, it will all be true."

There was one last little detail he imagined along with the picture. It involved a ring or two on fingers…and shared last names…