#directorbird

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AND

It’s not a relationship.

Not at all. Not even when Val’s warm wetness clings to Mel’s fingers and she can't help, but suck them off in front of her. Watching Val's brown eyes widen and darken at the sight. Nor is it a relationship when Mel drops to her knees under the director’s desk and sucks her clit until Val comes hard against her tongue, thighs clamped around her head, nails scraping through her hair hard enough to leave throbbing scratches through her scalp that she can't help but smile at. It doesn't mean anything when she thinks about that all day, lightly tapping where she scratched her.

It wasn’t even a relationship when Val returned the favor one frantic evening, fingers and mouth working Mel over and over until she saw stars. And sure, maybe they begun fucking at Val’s place because it can't happen in the office all the time. Not to mention, she just so happened to have a strap-on waiting in the nightstand. A tiny, minutiae detail that Mel unfortunately spiraled over. Questions such as: Why it was there, or rather, who else might have felt it before her, if Val bought it herself, or if someone bought it for her. She kept telling herself to leave questions she doesn't want answered alone.

Because it wasn’t even a relationship. Especially when Val gave her the best orgasms of her life- to the point where she thought about it often the next day. It wasn't one when Mel showed up at her door that night after the void happened, extremely tired and pained from all that she saw. Val let her in, forgave her even when she didn't have to, and then fucked her so thoroughly she slept well into the afternoon of the next day.

It’s not a relationship. That's the thing, even when they fuck a lot. She knows it isn't because- other than that- they don't do anything that normal couples do. Like hold hands, go on dates, share private information about their lives. Mel doubts she ever would, and she doesn't bet on her boss opening up any time soon. Not the great Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine who'd rather make dry quips than admit she's happy.

So no. Not a relationship. What they have wasn’t love. It was maybe just Val being bored. Or horny. Or both. Probably both. Mel couldn't really untangle why they were even doing this. Just that they didn't stop or even talk about it.

And even though they are not together Mel doesn't date anyone. Not since they started sleeping together. She’s sure Val isn’t either. There’s no time. The Thunderbolts are a full-time disaster, and Val is always working and stressed to point of snapping at any potential lovers. Which is fine with Mel if she's honest. Because then she doesn’t have to think about Val using the strap on anyone else.

She never really got over why Val even had one ready that first night at her high rise penthouse. About who might have worn it before, or who she might have been bent over the same bed, or why the thought still makes something ugly twist in Mel’s chest.

She definitely doesn't let herself wonder for too long if Val bought it for a specific person. If she’s used it on anyone else since they started this not relationship. The ugliness of it all sits at the back of her throat like acid, and she swallows them down every single time.

Once, after they used it in Val’s office- Mel bent over the desk with Val’s hand fisted in her hair, the strap driving into her so deep and so perfectly she had to bite her own knuckles to stay quiet- the thought crept in. That Val's too good at this. And it soured her mood for the rest of the week. She was short with everyone and she never is. It just wouldn't leave her alone. Her mind- it must hate her- kept replaying the way Val had praised her, called her a good girl, kissed the back of her neck afterward like maybe she had done it to someone else before.

It’s not a relationship, she reminds herself. Even as unwelcome thoughts surfaced: whether that fictional person from the past got dates, hand-holding, gifts. She thinks Val would be an excellent gift giver, no real reason, just that perhaps her boss could afford it.

Even when Val let her stay the night sometimes Mel doesn't delude herself. Especially when she wakes up to Val already dressed for the day, watching her with that unreadable expression before leaning down to kiss her forehead and whisper, "Coffee’s on the counter. You have an hour. Don’t be late."

Or even when Val’s hand finds the small of Mel’s back in the elevator after a godawful briefing, whole palm rubbing little circles, like she can’t help it. Or even when they fuck in the backseat of Val’s car after a late meeting, Mel riding her in the dark while Val grips her hip while the other does it's best to wiggle inside her from the awkward angle, and Val tells her she’s perfect. Wonderful. Mel reminds herself that it isn't a relationship because Val knows she likes words of affirmation. That praises are the best thing to help her to into orgasm.

Mel tells herself over and over that they are just two people who understand each other too well because they've been through a lot together. From Project Sentry to Bob raising the job market for therapists in New York to their brand new Avengers team. A. Lot.

And because of this, she doesn’t let herself notice the way Val looks at her sometimes. Like when Mel tucks her hair behind her ear, glances up, and sees Val just staring before she clears her throat and looks down- or anywhere but at Mel. A red flush creeping up Val's dark collar to bloom into her cheeks. She doesn’t let herself notice how Val’s voice softens when it’s just the two of them. She doesn’t admit to herself that she hasn’t wanted anyone else since this started. That the thought of Val touching someone else makes her stomach turn.

It’s not a relationship.

It’s just… this.

And Mel is fine with that.

Until the resort.

They were there for work. Some diplomatic cover for new Avengers business that required covertness. They all acted as some caricature of each other. Yelena and Ava as besties on vacay. Walker as Yelena’s brother tagging along. Alexei as the dad of course. Bucky didn't want a special back story, until Val said "you can be the grumpy closeted uncle."

Everyone laughed and Mel was slowly falling into a much better mood.

Until Val had said she booked their suite under a married-couple package. When questioned why she merely looked up and said, "for the massive discount and perks of course, Gold. This teams a fucking siphon for wealth."

This made it harder to ignore her growing awful mood when the concierge asked for confirmation, Val had barely blinked, typing on her phone, feigning disinterest. "Yes, my wife and I will be staying in the honeymoon suite," she said before putting down her phone and signing their resort paperwork. Mel could only process the words.

My wife.

She nearly choked on her own tongue right there in the marble lobby. Val didn’t even glance at her, like this wasn't a big deal at all. And the thing is, it shouldn't be, because they are not together, but Mel felt the words settle somewhere deep in her chest and stay there.

The week was… nice. Better than nice. They had a few more lazy mornings than their usual, lots of shared dinners overlooking the water while they let their team handle the heavy lifting, and sure, they still worked on their tablets and laptops, making sure everyone checks in. But Val spent some evenings or mornings in soft linen instead of power suits, her laughter much more genuine when Mel made her jokes. They fucked slower that week in the enormous bed, Val’s mouth between her thighs until Mel was shaking. She even introduced a new toy to their bed. A vibrator that Val said, "this sucks your clit."

When Mel asked when did she get it Val said, "before this trip."

The thought that Val bought something specifically for this trip crawled into her mind and cracked something then.

It became ten times harder to ignore Val watching her face the whole time while she used it on her, making her come embarrassingly fast, like she was memorizing every reaction. They didn’t talk about the "wife" thing. Not once.

But Mel couldn’t forget it.

How natural it sounded. How good it felt to hear. How, for a few fleeting days, it almost, maybe, seemed possible.

Back in the city, the mantra started cracking.

It’s not a relationship.

The words felt thinner now. Just a hollow phrase someone says when they're going insane from diverting what it actually means.

She found herself wishing, dangerously and stupidly she might add, that she wanted Val to really be just hers. That she wanted the soft kisses and the protective hand at her back and Val saying it again, “my wife.”

Mel stared at the ceiling in her own apartment after the trip, fingertips brushing the faint scratches still healing on her scalp. Val never really stopped digging in, and in a way, it was symbolic on how she couldn't keep her out of head anyway. For the first time since this not relationship began, Mel wondered how much longer she could keep lying to herself.

It didn't take long for the ache to settle into something muted, something Mel wanted so badly to pretend wasn’t there. But it was. And it affected everything.

After the resort, sex slowed to almost nothing. Reduced to a handful of quick, almost embarrassing encounters in Val’s office or her car, because Mel couldn't lose herself in it anymore. Val even stopped at some point to asked if she's okay, Mel lied and said she was tired. She told herself that maybe it was the workload. The Thunderbolts were finally starting to feel like a real team instead of a powder keg, and someone had to keep them pointed in the same direction. That someone was her. Val couldn't care less sometimes, mostly complaining about how in the hell they could rack up a near half a million dollar bill in less than six months.

But, with all the extra time she spent with them, for the first time in her life, Mel didn’t feel entirely alone.

Not the way she had before Valentina.

That was different and so was them.

She learned to call Bucky in when she needed someone whose word she could trust and who wouldn’t let anyone else bullshit their way through just to appease her. He learned from their first meeting not to. And he'd sit across from her in the conference room, arms folded, watching any new person Mel was briefing for any lies. She appreciated it.

Ava handled anything that needed doing fast. She was their trump card most of the time given that her power didn't really have barriers. One look from Mel and the job was already halfway finished before anyone else had finished talking. She was quick.

Yelena took the details and the command without being asked twice. She was smart, viciously competent, and Mel had learned exactly which buttons to press to get her invested instead of just sarcastic. Usually it meant she had to tell Val to leave the room but it works.

Bob… well. Bob was sweet. He made her tea sometimes when she stayed late and never asked questions she didn’t want to answer. She let him hover near her desk like a big, anxious golden retriever and asked about her day. In return she pretended she didn’t notice how much clearer he seemed now that she's booking him weekly therapy sessions. He was still sensitive about it.

Alexei was a walking history lesson wrapped in Soviet-era aura and terrible jokes. He was surprisingly useful when they needed context on old Hydra cells or forgotten Soviet experiments. Mel let him ramble while she took notes, and he beamed like she’d handed him a medal every time she actually listened or remembered an antic of his. He was like her in a way, happier to have words of affirmations for encouragement.

They filled her days. Her evenings. Her thoughts.

And still- still- Valentina found her.

Her hand at the small of her back as they walked down the hall. Even quick little pecks behind a pillar after a team meeting. Once, after an awful all-nighter, Val had simply pulled her into the private bathroom attached to her office, locked the door, and kissed her over and over until Mel’s knees went weak. No sex though. Just that.

It helped but it didn't help enough.

The ache stayed and if she poked it long enough it physically hurt her entire chest. Like she couldn't breath, just a permanent lump in her throat.

The company dinner was supposed to be a quick recon. Black tie, faux nice politicians, way too much champagne, and the entire team roster on their best behavior. Mel had spent the afternoon making sure everyone looked presentable and knew which forks not to use.

Val had watched her efforts with amusement, sipping scotch while offering her own dry commentary. She leaned in just enough to whisper. "Sweetie, if John picks up the wrong fork one more time, I’m going to tell him it’s a backscratcher and watch him try to use it. At least then the evening might be entertaining."

Mel had bitten back a laugh, hyper-aware of how close Val was standing, and how easily someone might notice.

The night of the event came fast and Mel was halfway through her second glass of wine when she saw her.

Short brown hair. High pointy cheekbones. She made every head in the room turn. Mel wondered why and merely listened. One of the best lawyers in the city someone said. Her names Hogarth another provided. Did you hear about her ex-wife....

And that's where Mel stopped listening.

Because Hogarth was standing close to Val near the bar, much too close, laughing at something Val had said. Val’s head was tilted just slightly, grinning wide and bumping shoulders. It felt too comfortable for her taste.

Mel’s stomach dropped.

Her mind, unfortunately, supplied the image instantly- that woman bent over Val’s bed, the strap buried from behind, Val’s voice low and gravelly, the way it got when she was really into it. Good girl. Just like that. The same praise Mel had hoarded like it was entirely hers alone. But Val did have the strap and knew how to use it. She had plenty more time on this Earth than Mel did, of course she's done it with other women before. And why wouldn't it be someone they would run into? Why not Hogarth?

She felt sick from her spiraling thoughts.

When Val finally crossed the room toward her, Mel’s smile was automatic, just for face value.

“Val,” she said, feeling nauseous. “Everything alright?”

Val’s brow ticked, just barely. She mouthed the phrase professional, we stay professional.

“Director,” Mel corrected quickly, too quickly. “I meant- do you need anything?”

She wondered if her voice sounded as awful as she felt. And it must've because Val studied her for a long second in the low light of the ballroom. The woman with the short brown hair was still at the bar, watching them now, sipping a martini. Grinning.

Mel’s chest felt too tight. She couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t decide if she wanted to scream or apologize or walk straight out of the building.

Val’s voice lowered. "Mel."

Just her name. It was enough to pull up the realization and grab her mantra of its not a relationship and whack it like a gulf ball across her head.

Who was she kidding....

Mel swallowed hard and looked away, because if she kept looking at Val she was going to do something stupid. Like ask, or beg. Or worse, admit that the word wife had never left her head and now some stranger with pretty short hair was wearing it in her imagination. Which was ridiculous, she was mad at her own illusions and disillusions alike. She was going insane from it all and tears began to well up past the lump in her throat.

She forced a small, brittle smile.

"I should check on the team," she said, already stepping back. "Make sure Alexei hasn’t started any international incidents."

She turned before Val could answer, hands shaking at her side. She didn’t know how to handle this- any of it anymore.

It’s not a relationship.

The words still echoed in her head like a bad habit even as everything fell apart in the middle of the ballroom.

She didn’t know how to handle it- so she did the most embarrassing thing she’d ever done in her entire professional life.

She fled.

It’s not a relationship.

"Mel. Mel, stop right now."

She didn’t stop. Her legs kept moving toward the side exit, heels echoing too loudly off the marble. Just get out. Breathe. Don’t let her see you fall apart.

Its not a relationship.

Val caught up faster than she expected, fingers wrapping around Mel’s upper arm in a firm grip. She pulled her into the quieter service hallway just off the main corridor, the one lined with gilded mirrors and potted palms.

It's not a relationship.

"What the hell is wrong with you tonight?" Val demanded, voice low but tinged with frustration. She was still using that director tone, the one that usually made Mel’s knees weak for entirely different reasons. "You’ve been acting like a child throwing a tantrum all evening. If this is how you’re going to behave, maybe you should have stayed behind in the office instead of coming into the field with the team."

God she made her sound like a child. Mel twisted hard, trying to yank her arm free. Her elbow caught the edge of a narrow console table. The oversized floral arrangement in the center wobbled dangerously, then toppled with a deafening crash of glass shattering and echoing loudly all around- water splashed across the floor, flowers strewn everywhere. The sound seemed to echo forever.

Oh God. Mel lamented. Everyone probably heard that. Perfect. Add public humiliation to the list of things that aren’t a relationship.

She didn’t stick around for the aftermath. She fast walked away and kept walking, vision blurring.

This is not a relationship.

The lie felt laughably fragile now, shattering right along with the centerpiece on the hallway floor.

Mel kept walking, pulse hammering in her ears, cheeks burning with humiliation. Glass crunched under Val's heels behind her, following. "Melissa Gold, come back here right now!"

The use of her full name made something in Mel’s chest finally admit it. She spun around so fast she nearly lost her balance and Val stopped just before running into her, the words exploding out before she could cage them.

"I don’t know what we are!" Her voice cracked so loud in the empty hallway. Inside her head the thoughts were a screaming mess- this isn't a relationship, but then Val touches her all the time, it isn't hand holding, but it's the same- she's reaching out. It isn't a relationship, but Val looks at her in such an enduring way with so much warmth that sometimes her entire body buzzes with this effortless energy. Full of sunlight.

It isn't a relationship, but she wants it to be.

She has been lying to herself for months while managing the whole damn team and pretending she isn't driving herself insane in the process.

"I don’t know what this is, Val. I’ve been telling myself it’s nothing. That it doesn’t mean anything when you pull me into hallways to kiss me or- or fuck me-"

Val cautiously glances around and Mel sees it. The hesitation and sudden uncomfortableness. "Mel." She warns.

But she was beyond caring, "-or how about when you called me your wife for a stupid discount. You think it doesn't effect me. But it does, Val." Her voice was cracking and she could barely blink the away the tears faster than they come. "It does mean something to me and I can’t- I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t."

Val stared at her, stunned into silence for once. Then a short, surprised laugh escaped her, like she thought Mel was joking, like this had to be some kind of stress-induced meltdown.

It makes Mel’s face burned hotter. "Don’t laugh at me."

Val’s laugh died immediately when she saw the anger in her eyes. "Mel… we can go back to the resort if that’s what you want. It’s not-"

"No." Mel’s voice was smaller now, but still raspy from the onslaught of emotions suddenly welling up inside. The words kept tumbling out, completely unstoppable. Tell her. Just say it before you lose your nerve forever. "I meant the word. Wife. I liked hearing it. I liked how it felt. I’ve been deluding myself for so long because I was terrified of what it would mean if I admitted I want more. I want us to be more. I don’t want to keep wondering if there is someone else or if you actually like me. I want to know what we are. Because I’m in love with you and it’s killing me that you might not feel the same."

There. She said it for the first time, admitted it to herself and to Val. Albeit in such a humiliating way, she couldn't stop crying, tearing rolling down and she's sure her make up is running along with it.

Val looked completely thrown, dark brown eyes wide, mouth slightly parted like she was searching for the right response and coming up empty, almost looking like a fish out of water.

Mel couldn’t bear it. Not the surprise on Val’s face, not the uncertainty, not the fear that she’d just ruined whatever fragile thing they had. She turned away before she made a bigger fool out if herself.

“I should go,” she sniffed out.

She walked out without waiting for an answer.

Work was excruciating after that.

The team sensed the shift immediately, even if they didn’t know the details. Bucky watched her a lot more during briefings, eyes flicking to her then to Val. Yelena’s sarcasm lost its bite and made painfully awkward comments that she ignored. Bob hovered with extra tea. Ava and Alexei gave her space, but the air in every meeting felt off, and by the end she was scrambling to leave first.

Val was awfully polite. She still tried to find quiet moments even if Mel made it harder. With a brush of fingers here, a lingering look there, but the easiness between them was gone. Replaced by caution and self exiled distance on her part.

Mel threw herself harder into the team, managing their chaos like it could fill the hole she’d carved open with her confession. But every night, alone in her room in the Tower, the same thoughts circled-

It’s not a relationship but I want it to be.

Except now she’d said it out loud. And she had no idea if Val would ever let it become one. So, she changed the wording.

It was never a relationship. Despite how badly she wanted it.

Her own confession had haunted her for weeks after the recon, but somehow they started to feel like a question instead of a statement. Does she? Yes. But really? Do you actually love her? Confliction almost everyday but the thing is- Mel could have moved on. In another life, maybe she would have. She could have found someone less complicated, someone warm and wonderful who lit up every room they walked into, offered easy affection, and uncomplicated conversations. Someone her own age.

But fate, as it turned out, had other plans.

One ordinary Tuesday morning, Val walked straight up to Mel’s desk like she owned the air around her (which, technically, she did if you look at the billing statements). The team was scattered throughout the Tower, Bucky in the gym, Yelena on a long distance call to a friend she said once tried to kill her during Christmas, Bob humming happily while reorganizing files because she was tired of him constantly hovering. So their life was quieter than usual.

Mel looked up, professional mask firmly in place. She didn't give her the satisfaction of more crying, "Director. What can I do for you?"

Val didn’t speak at first. She simply placed a small black velvet box on the desk between them. Mel’s heart stuttered.

Inside was a ring. Simple but stunning all the same- an oval diamond set in a twisted rose gold band that caught the light and sparkled in her hand. It was beautiful. For a moment she couldn't think past the ringing in her ear, the way her whole body locked up as she snapped her head towards Val.

Val’s voice was low, but there was something softer underneath. "It’s up to you. But I’m not getting any younger. Our jobs are very dangerous. Hell, we could die tomorrow. Or the day after. And-" her nails tapped the desk and for the first time in knowing her boss, Val looked unsure. "It doesn't have to happen right away. We can plan it out but this should give you peace of mind that there is no one else."

It wasn’t romantic like in the movies. No grand speech, or kneeling, not even any flowery declarations. But it was Val. Her Val who was never direct with anyone in her life except with her. Honest in the only way she knew how to be.

Mel stared at the ring, then up at Val’s face. She looked so uncertain, not really looking her in the eye and Mel recognized the quiet fear of rejection that clung to her. She knew that look because she herself wore it for months and, despite herself, softened a bit.

"Do you mean it?" Mel whispered, barely trusting her own voice. Still, she slipped the ring on before she could overthink it, the metal an unfamiliar feeling against her skin.

"Yes, Mel. I mean it."

And Mel had to ask, to appease her anxious mind. "Was there ever anyone else? While we were...together?"

Val's fingers touched under her chin, lifted her head and said, very seriously, "no. Of course not."

Mel said yes.

Everything was different after that. Val became… touchier. More handsy than before. Fingers brushing hers when they passed files in the hallway even holding her hand, pulling her into hot kisses in the stairwell that left Mel giddy. They were far less careful than before. The denial that had once been Mel’s armor was gone, replaced by something warmer, hungrier, and infinitely more terrifying.

She didn’t wear the ring at work, rather slipping it onto a chain around her neck instead, tucked safely beneath her blouse. Val chose a simple, thin rose gold band for herself, equally discreet on a chain around her neck. Their secret. For now.

They spent late nights in Val’s office planning it out. Mel finally found out why Val was talking to Hogarth. Apparently she was the best at discretion because she had had an affair with her assistant. Mel was glad neither of them dated anyone else because it was a messy divorce from what Val told her.

Hogarth had proposed a restructure of the team. Changing Mel's title from assistant to partner in their new department of New Avengers. Mel as co-lead. An equal. The conversations were a balance of planning and yeah, sue her, lots of kisses across the desk. Val pulled her into her lap while they reviewed org charts, fingers slipping under Mel’s skirt until paperwork was entirely forgotten.

They got caught more than once. And soon, everyone knew- in the most anxiety-inducing, mortifying ways possible.

Yelena found out first.

It happened in the archive room, the one place literally no one ever went. Val had Mel pressed against the shelves, skirt rucked up around her hips, three fingers buried between her legs. Mel was biting down hard on Val’s shoulder to stay quiet, but she was failing miserably, soft whimpers escaping anyway. The door opened. Yelena walked in, yelped, and immediately slapped a hand over her eyes.

"Disgusting!" she shouted, already spinning on her heel. "Get a room that actually locks next time!" As she stormed out, she muttered, "God, my poor eyes…"

Mel’s leg had tightened around Val in pure panic, but she only chuckled against her neck and kept going until Mel came anyway.

The second time was worse.

Bob walked in on them after hours in Val’s office. Mel was on her knees, Val in her chair, hand fisted tightly in her hair, the strap buried deep in her throat while Val praised her in that low, filthy voice Mel loved so much. Bob let out a mortified squeak and fled so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. Mel couldn’t look him in the eye for days afterward.

Ava’s discovery was, thankfully, far less explicit. They were heading to a morning briefing before a field mission when Mel lamented that they’d barely get a moment alone together for a whole week. That mission was going to be rough. She stopped them in the hallway, laced their fingers together, and pulled Val into a long, deep kiss that had Val melting instantly, humming softly into her mouth as her hand slipped under Mel’s shirt to brush the engagement ring hidden against her skin.

"Oh god," came Ava’s startled voice.

They both froze. Ava stood a few feet away, duffle bag dropped at her feet, eyes wide. She said nothing else the entire jet ride, but kept shooting them knowing glances. Mel found it strangely easier to handle this time.

Bucky was next.

During a mission that started going sideways, he suggested over comms that Val head into the field. Val replied that she was on her way. Mel panicked and snapped at him. Val’s eyes widened. It was too public of a reaction. She quickly shut off their comms and cupped Mel’s face, she kissed her quickly and told her she'll be fine, she'll be right back. And she did. Still, the truth was getting impossible to hide anymore.

Bucky approached her afterward with something like understanding in his eyes. She tried to apologize and try as she might, couldn't fathom an excuse for her reaction.

Bucky caught on anyway. "Val’s a big girl. She’s the Director for a reason- she has to know what she’s doing, it's her job." He paused, then added gently, "But I’ll keep your feelings in mind next time." He finished with an awkward fist bump to her shoulder.

He was the first one Mel told properly. She showed him the ring on the chain around her neck. His expression was surprised wide eyes and for a moment she thought he would be disgusted, instead he pulled her into a warm, brotherly hug. "Congratulations," he said simply. Mel hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear it.

John found out because of Val.

They were all at the penthouse for a rare casual dinner. John asked for an apron so he could handle the grilling. Mel offered to grab it, heading toward the kitchen, when Val casually called after her, "Sweetie, you washed it the other day. It’s in the laundry room."

John choked on his beer. "What?"

Yelena made a disgusted noise from the couch. "I told you- behind doors that actually lock. Yesh you'd think they want the whole world to know."

Bucky chuckled at John’s delayed realization as his head bobbed from her to Val to her then back to Val, piecing it together. Even Bob joined in on the gentle teasing, telling John, duh, shouldn't he be aware of his surrounding? Isn't that what real military people do? The news spread like wildfire after that.

Alexei found out the same night- Mel still isn’t sure who told him. He just blurted it out mid-conversation, chewing a burger: "So- chew chew- you are truly a couple now? -chew chew-" the last part spat out onto his plate.

Yelena groaned and said, "Mouth shut. All of you," she pointed at him then at Mel and Val, "what is it in not closing things that should be closed huh?"

Mel smiled, ignored her teasing and looked to Val. Touching the ring under her shirt and eyed her, hoping she'll understand. Val did. Mel watched as Val pulled out both rings, hers and Mel's, to show him, all of them actually. Alexei lit up with excitement, bombarding them with questions right away. They skirted around most of them, but the important part was clear: they were together.

A few days later, Yelena cornered Mel in the training room. Arms crossed, eyes slanted, she asked bluntly, "Why her? Of all people- why Valentina? Is she holding you hostage?"

Mel’s mouth fell open. "What?" she squeaked, heat flooding her cheeks. "No. Why would she?"

But the question was there now and it morphed inside her head. Why her? She didn’t know why, or how, or even when it had happened. Just that somewhere along the way- between the late nights, the various code reds, or all the ways Val looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that seemed to make her happy just as she was for Mel in the beginning- it had simply happened.

Yelena studied her for a long moment, then let out a slow irritated breath. "Great," she sighed.

Mel frowned. "Great?"

"You’ve got that stupid look on your face," Yelena said, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "The one that says you’re either very brave or very stupid." She paused. "Maybe both."

Mel blinked. "I’m not following."

"Yeah," Yelena replied dryly. "Love tends to do that."

Now everyone knew. As embarrassing as the discovery process had been, Mel felt only relief.

For the first time, it felt real outside their little bubble. The ache she’d carried for so long was gone, replaced by an ever glowing warmth. Val still wasn’t the type for flowery romance, but Mel had been right about one thing: Val gave excellent gifts.

It started small and escalated quickly with a pair of heels that made her legs look longer than they were. Silk blouses in shades Mel never would have chosen for herself but somehow looked perfect once on. Jewelry that caught the light no matter how she turned, little delicate earrings, a golden bracelet she now wore every day. Val would present each one with, "This would look nice on you."

Mel never stopped her. She wore them all and savored the way Val’s eyes would light up when she saw them on her.

The wedding was as private as they could make it on a remote island far from prying eyes and New Avengers business. No grand ceremony. And despite Val’s playful groans, Mel had invited the team- Bucky, Yelena, Ava, Bob, John, and Alexei. She found it strangely comforting to have them there, a ragtag family bearing witness.

Just them, the ocean, and a justice of the peace who asked no unnecessary questions.

Even though the wedding was small, Val had spent an obscene amount of money on matching outfits. Flowing cream linen dresses tailored to fit them perfectly, with delicate gold accents that shimmered in the sunlight. The dresses were the ideal length for walking along the beach. The rest of the team wore whatever felt beach-ready. Bucky, of course, showed up in a full suit. Mel giggled and teased him, telling him not to die of heat stroke. The suit lasted barely an hour before he changed into something lighter.

When they stood barefoot in the sand, listening to the justice of the peace, Val looked at her like she was the center of the universe. It made Mel tingle from head to toe.

Then the justice asked if they had any vows.

Mel had assumed they weren’t exchanging any, but Val surprised her.

"I prepared something," Val said softly, looking into her eyes.

Warmth flooded Mel’s entire body. When she admitted she hadn’t prepared anything, because she thought they’d agreed to skip the vows, Val simply smiled.

"You’ve already given and said everything before me," Val told her, squeezing her hands. "It’s my turn to carry the weight of all our unsaid feelings." She glanced sideways at the team with a wry look. "Even in front of this less-than-ideal crowd."

The team immediately started teasing her. Mel giggled as Val shot them a mock-glare before turning back, eyes soft again as she spoke her vows.

Later, in their private villa, Val pulled her close, lips brushing Mel’s ear as she whispered, "My wife."

It meant so much more now than it had when it was just a clever line for a hotel discount.

They were still careful at work- well- mostly. The rings stayed hidden. Titles were shifting quietly behind the scenes, with Mel moving from assistant to partner in the New Avengers company. Val’s hand found hers more often in empty hallways. Their kisses grew more frequent, consisiting of small, unconscious pecks here and there. Mel was sure that, eventually, they’d slip up outside the Tower and the whole world would know. The good thing about that happening was that she could finally wear her ring on her finger instead of tucked beneath her shirt.

Until then…

It was nice.

She hadn’t expected any of this when she took the job, didn't even expect it when her and Val were in their "it's not a relationship" phase. But, she had fallen in love somewhere along the way.