aubergines | ( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

[ If one treated it like the numerous other various and sundry undercover missions they'd happened to participate in over the course of the war, then it wasn't so bad. Thinking of it at least in those terms had reduced the manner in which it felt skin tinglingly close to being at the home of one of his father's friends once again, words flying here and there and smiles painted on faces in an almost mockery of the fine art and portraiture hanging on the walls. As horrible as war had been, at least it had been for a purpose. A purpose he could understand, could get behind. The motivations behind his former life's so-called 'high-society' had always been a rather different beast altogether.

(Which wasn't strictly true. Both machines were built to gain power, in whatever manner they could. The simple difference was that one was far more upfront about it, and when you commit an act of betrayal in a war you get the kind of reaction that, in his mind, you should probably still receive even if you just do it to your friend. More's his sin for having committed both.)

Their calling this time - 'mission', 'case', what-have-you - had actually led them outside Sleepy Hollow: a bit further south towards the actual city of New York. It had taken a little bit of self-control not to marvel at the sheer size of the looming city ahead - far bigger than the last time he recalled having seen it, and of course he'd seen pictures but really, they never compared - but they had stopped at the home of a Mr. and Mrs. Clairidge before reaching it.

If the valet seemed surprised to see Lt. Mills be the one to step out of the driver's seat, the young man knew well enough not to comment. Ichabod in turn smoothed out the borrowed jacket from where it had crinkled slightly in the car ride and moved to offer her his arm. Certain aspects of these sorts of things were familiar and easy.

Others. Well, they would be familiar.

They had a few moments of relative privacy before they actually made it up the ridiculous walkway to the door proper, the stiff cardstock of the invitation something Ichabod could still feel in his breast pocket. ] While I understand the importance of this particular course of action, I cannot say that I wouldn't have preferred a somewhat more direct approach to uncovering this particular mystery. [ Although. ] Your current versions of men's formalwear are somehow both clearly derivative of those I'm familiar with and feel entirely different at the same time.

[ It is known, far and wide, throughout SHIELD new and old, that Steve Rogers doesn't like undercover work. Not to say he's terrible at it, but he's really not so great at it. Something like that requires a finesse he hasn't yet crafted for himself, no matter how much he'd like to believe he has. However, there was literally no way in a flying fresh hell that he was going to turn down this sort of mission with Bucky.

Maybe he should have as there are just too many real and true feelings there, and it would be far, far too easy to get wrapped up inside this lie. And Steve doesn't even like to lie, but this time he's willing to make that sacrifice.

From the moment they get the mission specs, Steve becomes just a tiny bit distracted. He knows he shouldn't, but that doesn't make it any easier. To say he hasn't given this topic thought before would be an outright lie: he has. Many times. It's the one secret he keeps. He doesn't want to ever pressure Bucky into anything, force him to take a step toward something that's too much of a commitment. They've been playing things easy, careful, since Bucky's been back and Steve is so grateful to have what they do have. But, he's not going to lie a little to himself and entertain the idea that this is real.

This is the first time he's been to Vegas, so the ogling and awe at everything isn't faked. Everything is so busy and grand and bigger than life. But, it's fun and made all the more so by having Bucky right there by his side. The fact that they can hold hands or share a quick kiss just compacts the idea of fun and excitement. Though he isn't ready for sleep or to call it a night, he knows they have to, but it's hardly with a heavy heart that he follows Bucky back to their hotel room. It's a lot nicer than a lot of places he's ever been, but something takes away from it all with all the equipment hooked up. Not to mention all the weapons.

But it doesn't matter. He's with the love of his life and wouldn't want to be anywhere else. (Except, of course, here without the whole SHIELD op, but he's not being choosey.) So, he showers quick enough, not wanting to waste much time alone and he's sort of kicking himself for not asking Bucky to join him—he chickened out, no big deal. When he exits the bathroom, he has a pair of cotton pants on (blue plaid; very sexy, clearly), and a towel half draped over his shoulders and head to finish drying his hair. Just as he's opening his mouth to ask Bucky something about whatever (it's not important), Bucky beats him to the punch and it's all Steve can do to remain upright. He does trip, sending the towel sliding off to heap on the floor. He recovers quick enough, even if his mouth gaping open like a slack-jawed idiot.

A moment later, a devious smile curls on his lips and he takes a flying leap to tackle Bucky on the bed. He's grinning, happy to be trapped in the moment with him and aims to plant kisses anywhere he can reach. ]

I believe you're right, Buck. Maybe we shouldn't waste any more time.

[ Aramis would have objected.

Probably just as well that he wasn't here right now, although in all honesty if he had been, then either Athos wouldn't have cared overmuch or they would have done something else. As it was, a man and a woman travelling quietly by themselves for a few days? Given that they couldn't particularly pass as siblings, husband and wife had been the next choice. Probably the better choice anyway, as for reasons Athos didn't particularly care to think about, marriage somehow seemed to invite less interest than otherwise, from a certain sort of people.

His pauldron is in his saddlebag, her finery in another. A cloak covers what of her dress could not pass for something more common and it is evening now, which aids them still. Little could be done about his sword, but anything that immediately marks them as musketeer and queen, or of any status above slightly-displaced-merchant has hopefully been well hidden or tucked away. This is the first of potentially several days depending on how things go, and there are other clothes in another bag, but at the moment it's more a place to stay that he's concerned about. The travel itself is cause for concern, but at least in that they typically don't have to encounter many others or have too much worry for observation beyond what any other traveller does. Here in a town, overnight in an inn? Athos will not sleep very easily.

He comes back to her shortly, having dismounted to secure them a room. They've... Talked, a little bit here and there. The queen is young, but a good woman, and friendly if in the manner of someone constantly aware of their role in the world and the way in which they must play it. He is not particularly good with small talk, and truth be told neither of them know very much about the other, so a large portion of the ride since it began earlier was in silence. Even as he feels that it will probably make for a long few days - because he is all fine and well with quiet but despite himself he's grown somewhat accustomed to chatter, and he suspects it is not quite the queen's own preference to the degree they've thus achieved it, although again, it's not like he would know - he doesn't know how to rectify it. Not without it being potentially more awkward anyway, and wouldn't that just be fun.

Perhaps if he does wind up not sleeping he'll spend the time coming up with things that he might ask her tomorrow. Polite, inconsequential things - the sort of naff that people used to ask him as a comte at gatherings. ]

The horses have a place in the stables, our room is upstairs and some manner of supper will be brought up shortly. [ Here in town now, in public, there is a vague lightness to his tone, and a loss of the usual lilt and drawl to his words that typically mark him to be more educated. It's not particularly drastic acting, but it's passive and small enough that he can keep it maintained without too much difficulty. By her horse now, he offers her a hand to get down. ]

[ for her, it was second nature. despite Skye's anxiousness, Loki is completely and utterly confident. her hand slips easily into hers, and she draws out behind her, wearing something akin to a black, flowy pants suit and a pair of heels that would bring any runway model to tears. she's tied up her hair, but there is some that falls in waves around her shoulders. ]

I was born ready.

[ she says easily. this is Loki's game, of course. what Skye had in nervousness, Loki could make up in charm, she was sure of it. she links their arms (still a good few inches taller than Skye, especially in those heels). ]

And so were you. Just think about how fun it'll be if we mess up.

[ don't think about the sweet chaos of that aftermath, Loki. ]

[ really, that's just mean, because the moment that suga starts laughing daichi starts to relax. of course this isn't a big deal. of course there's nothing to worry about. it's just a mix up and a joke and there's nothing, really, to stress out about.

which is why he starts to smile a little, the laughter feeling more natural. at least up until suga seems to catch up with what he said and daichi just kind of freezes up. okay, well, at least this response is more on par with what daichi was expecting? ]

I know it's crazy. [ and up go his hands, a bit defensively, as if he's trying to calm suga down. ] And I'm sorry, I should have asked you first. But mom was really hounding me, and she kept mentioning Nanako-san from across the hall and how she'd call her if I didn't and I just- [ this isn't making it any better. ] I freaked out, and you were the only person I could think of.

[ does that make it better? worse? daichi lets out a breath and tries to calm himself down. he logicked this all out a long time ago, right when he told his parents about it, so it's not like he doesn't know what to say. it's just that somehow translating it into words is much harder than thinking it up had been. ]

It doesn't have to be for long. Just the trip home. And then when we go back to school I'll tell her that we decided it wasn't right and everything will go back to normal. [ please let it go back to normal. ] I'm sorry.

[ he doesn't know if he can stop apologizing, because the more time he spends trying to explain himself, and the longer that he sees suga's freaked out expression, the more this feels wrong. it doesn't matter that he'd actually been pretty okay with the idea of telling his family about it, that the easiest part of all this would be trying to convince them, but it's dawning on him now that not telling suga had been the wrong decision. the REALLY wrong decision.

he messed this up. ]

If you're uncomfortable with this we don't have to go through with it. I'll- I'll come up with something. I should probably just be honest with them anyway. [ slowly deflating... ]

[ he was just a moment to see if another statement will come after that. instead, he just hears crickets chirping. ]

... and now we're married. Congratulations on our nuptials! You take things too seriously. You know with any good reception comes lively expressive balloons and a few heavy kegs.

[It is surprising what the promise of alcohol does to Thor's mood.

Or perhaps it isn't. Either way, he huffs to show that he is still not pleased with this plan, and that killing everyone might not be so bad.]

No doubt we'll share the first cup, to ensure all our children are healthy, male, and bring us glory. [A poor attempt at sarcasm, but he is trying.]

[ years of dealing with this Thor, and then years of dealing with the man he will be, makes his attitude and his barbs sting all the less. Loki keeps his enthusiasm admirably. ]

I'll save you from the misogyny later. [ he replies coolly. ] Why don't you just enjoy yourself? Who cares what dad thinks? Ol' one eye has his own problems to deal with, and we're here to make less of them.

Shut up, Loki.

[Stunning repartee from the elder brother.]

Where is this reception? I feel a week's feasting will be the least I need to endure this. [Because the reception is going to be at least a week long. Right.]

Hopefully, not too bad. And because we need my charm and your skills. If our parents managed to stand it, surely we can fake it for a little while, right?

Well, thank you. The risks of a woman out alone... I hate to think about it.

Though, I've not met anyone like you before. What can you tell me about yourself? After all, if we are to be convincing, we should get to know each other, yes?

["you owe me," is what her eyes had said, what he honestly would've had to have been blind to miss, the last time he'd shown up an hour and a half late and didn't call or even text and was probably sure that blood would start appearing on his shirt at any moment. and, yeah, he does owe her, because, yeah, he'd felt bad, he'd felt really bad. she's the best friend he's had in a long time, and like the only one he has left, so, yeah, he's got to start being a better friend to her, he's got to make that effort, he really does.

which, yeah, means he's gotta start making promises he can actually keep.

so that's why he's here, walking down the street next to mj in a suit - no, not the suit he's used to, but, like, an actual suit-suit, suit-and-tie and the whole shebang. aunt may had been so excited, so excited that she'd actually insisted on taking pictures of them like they're still in high school or something. which, that was awkward, but also just being in this suit is so awkward. there aren't even real pockets on this thing, so there's really nothing to do with his hands but fidget awkwardly. in stark contrast, when he glances over at mj, she looks distinctly not-awkward, but rather perfectly poised and, like, totally in her element. she's going to be great at this, he just knows that.

but what he doesn't know is what awkward really means, not until, completely, one-hundred percent out of the blue, mj is grabbing his hand and slipping a ring onto one of his fingers.

well, uh.

um.

silence passes for a moment as he stares down at said hand.]

Look, I'm a fan of gender equality, okay, big fan, huge fan, but I seriously don't understand why it has to be Mister Watson. I'm just saying, I'm just saying, wouldn't it be a lot more equal if we hyphenated it? Like, Parker-Watson, that's equal, both names in this hypothetical - [he trails off. a beat.] - Wait, wait, wait, why am I mister anything?

[The pros to faking being married to Boyd is that she's now under the protection of the pack which, all things considered, it pretty great for her. Luka's never been able to spend a lot of time around other weres before now, not when by nature they can't risk the exposure that comes with it. It's nice to not feel like she has to be on the move all the time and that the only one with her best interests at heart is her. Plus, the pack members look like they've been through hell and back and maybe her luck can't help her but they could probably use it.

The con of course is that in staying put, it's only a matter of time before someone in town figures out what she is and more hunters come after her on top of all of the other enemies the pack already has. It's her hope that the luck she gives off is enough to put them off her trail a while.

--and okay, there's one other pro, and that's Boyd. Luka is all of eighteen and in no hurry to get married, but she has to admit it's nice to pretend with him. Silver ring heavy on her left ring finger, Luka knows that this ruse is what's keeping her from being carted off by extended family to get shunted into a real marriage to someone from the werehyena clan. Fake marriage with Boyd is so much better though, and she takes to the make-believe parts of it easier than she'd expected.

Hand slipping into his, she gives it a squeeze.]

Hey, so on a scale of one to screwed, how likely is it that tonight's party is going to go as badly as the last one we went to? Or is there a chance we can actually let loose tonight?

[as promised. :P]

[ he doesn't bother hiding the smirk that makes it to his face when he calls her sweetheart, and so steph doesn't bother hiding the face she makes in return. soon enough, they'll both have to check their reactions because they'll be surrounded by lethal and unfriendly aliens, to be swayed only by their (not-so-)honest show of love for each other.

right now, they're still unobserved, and so a face she makes. ]

Only if you're likely to forget.

[ which he shouldn't be: their cover story is simple. it starts with holy shit i love you and ends with a cleaner milano and a wedding proposal near the moon, overlooking the entirety of earth. ]

[ it's not the worst assignment she's ever been given, either — or the worst assignment she's ever been involved in, because she doesn't always follow orders and sometimes picks her own assignments, and really, sitting on a civilian airplane and not knowing if bucky was still alive and she was flying to her own certain death had been worse. losing bucky had been worse.

this isn't bad, it's just out of her comfort zone. ]

If they recognise me, I think they'd have a hard time believing I'd be careless enough to let myself get knocked up.

[ and while it's "captain america" more than "steph rogers" who is well-known, the chance of recognition certainly exists. if she's recognised, she'll claim to have gotten married quietly and to have checked in under a fake name to avoid the media attention and ask for discretion. it's the best plan they've got, apparently.

if word gets out that captain america is married, that's one thing. if word gets out that captain america is pregnant —

or maybe steph just doesn't want to think about pregnancy all that much. ]

[‘My father would be disappointed’.

It’s one of the first things Clark can think as he enters the house that’s supposedly his new house, with the woman who’s supposed to be his newlywed by his side. His father always thought that he should hide his secret from everyone, no exceptions. That the moment someone figured out what he really was the world would change, and he had to be ready to bear the weight of that on his shoulders.

He wasn’t ready.

But after an accident that involved a robbery, a certain blonde girl who was taking no shit and kicked their asses to the floor before they even knew what they were doing, and a bullet that would have gone to the back of her head had Clark not interfered with super speed right were Steph could see… well, things had just taken A Turn. They had talked, shared parts of their backstory (even though Clark couldn’t tell her much, since he still had no answer to the basic ‘where did I come from’ questions), and found out they actually complimented each other pretty well.

She needed someone who wouldn’t try to stop her when she tried to make a change, be more than her father’s daughter. He needed someone who would accept him for who he was, someone who could make him look normal for a chance. He needed someone who’d let him stop running, for a while.

And if the thought of being married to someone as amazing as Stephanie Brown (he hadn’t even thought about changing either of their names) made his chest tighten in a way it hadn’t since he had first seen Lana Lang… well, that was no one’s business. He could live with this.]

Home sweet home?

[Alby looks at their hands for a second once they touch.

It’s weird, having something like… two sets of memories right now. He still remembers clearly how much the married Alby liked that his hands were so big in comparison to Newt’s hands. He liked to hold them, liked that he could almost cover Newt’s hand completely with his own. …He still likes that, or is that a fake memory? He really can’t see this not being weird any time soon. But he still reaches to squeeze the hand in what he hopes is a reassuring way.]

Shuck if I know. Months, maybe? Stuff usually lasts forever with them. [Alby’s favorite thing: questions unanswered. Newt was one of the few things he knew for sure, one of the few things he didn’t have any doubts about because you’re supposed to trust your best friends. And now he doesn’t even have that.

Worst part is he doesn’t have anyone to yell at about it.]

But we’ll manage, yeah? Acting chummy-chummy can’t be that hard.

[ ooc: that sounds cool! Gale as a past victor who mentored Katniss, and they help kick off the rebellion? ]

[ For several moments, Jack simply stares blankly at Brock. He blinks slowly and runs his tongue over his teeth. Logic and his discourse over the entire situation that just happened are at odds and his brain is taking a little longer to settle on the proper reaction to have. Jack swallows, then clears his throat, and it's that action that spurs his brain back to reality. His lips twist and he makes a sound of disgust. The bottle of champagne is set down on the table in front of them as his other hand gently pushes against Brock's face to get his filthy, sappy, romantic bullshit out of Jack's face.

If that's the reaction Brock was looking for — for Jack to be inconceivably horrified at the very notion of Brock turning into some sticky, sopping wet romantic — he definitely got it.

At least for a second or eight. ]

You're disgusting.

[ Situating himself better on the couch, his legs are parted into a slight vee and the robe splits open enough to expose a strip of a pale thigh. From that, it's easy to wager he's wearing nothing underneath. Nothing is done to correct it, either. Modesty is a thing that exists, he knows, but he also can't seem to find it within himself to care. Jack tips his head back to rest against the cushion of the couch and makes the attempt to not think of what things would be like if this was real. It's not like either one of them want anything this solidly committed. And, really, who needs it? It's just words on a paper in a binding contract, proof that love possibly exists and his heart could really, honestly, and truly belong to someone else.

So stupid. Totally unnecessary to living a full, contented life.

Completely.

Jack lifts his left hand, fingers splayed as he looks at his ring. When the dossier with the mission had been given to them, two simple gold bands were included on the specs and supplies. That did not go over well with him. He'd needled (aka: heavily bitched) until he'd gotten his way to at least get them something better. Jack Benjamin doesn't wear cheap gold. Not that it really mattered, but he wanted something to better reflect who they are. Neither one of them are all that traditional. So, he'd gone with darker metal because it made sense; Brock's was similar, but with no additional baubles. He's just not that kind of guy. They don't need a perfect matching set. That's not who they are either. And even if this is just for a short mission and they'll have to give them back once all is said and done, Jack's willing to go the extra mile to make it look as convincing as possible.

Looking into what that means is out of the fucking question.

The light glints off the edges of the black diamonds, staining his eyes for a moment with the false reality. It's a dangerous game he's edging upon, so he simply sighs and drops his hand down, choosing to rest it against Brock's thigh. His head lolls to the side so he can look at Brock. ]

Did you ever want to get married?

Our parents hated each other, [ Leo reminds her, but he gives himself a mental shake and puts on a grin. ] Does this mean I get to call you wifey?

[ It could totally be a publicity thing, taking the heat off Tony for doing yet another Stupid Tony thing.

Or even if they get pulled into some reconnaissance thing by virtue of Tony? idk, I'm good with anything! ]

[ Located on the planet of Solace, Refuge had been touted as the newest colony safe from the Reaper threat, open to all people from all walks of life, if they could afford it. Basically a luxury hotel, in addition to the usual amenities – free extranet access, several gyms, two pools, recreational facities, etc. – Refuge also boasted a suite of security protocols; shielding to protect its inhabitants; and a regiment of soldiers, a brigade of security mechs, and a squadron of fighter pilots on-call at all hours of the day. The price point, the brochure said, was far more reasonable than a certain other facility’s asking fee.

It almost was too good to be true.

Almost.

There hadn’t been any reports from the planet itself, but various reports from family and friends of those who had already taken refuge on Refuge stated that their loved ones or friends would maintain communication, tell them of all the comforts the colony had to offer and urge them to come and join them. Then one day, they would suddenly—stop. Out of nowhere. Sometimes even mid conversation, where message sent to omnitools were involved.

Representatives of the colony stated that due to the boom in settlers, they were having trouble keeping track of the comings and goings of their inhabitants. That it was possible that those who were “missing” were not missing at all, and perhaps they had lost track of the time and forgot to communicate? With all of the activities Refuge had on offer, it would be no surprise for one to simply forget themselves in the fun of it all.

Or perhaps the people who were “missing” had not existed at all, the representatives said. After all, their records, as behind as they were, simply did not show anyone by that name. Perhaps those reports had been fabricated by a mistrusting or jealous competitor, and perhaps it would be best if the authorities ignored such clearly falsified reports.

The authorities on Refuge clearly had no plans in cooperating.

Which is where “Mr. and Mrs. McClain” enter the picture, currently traveling by shuttle to take shelter from the war.

“Mr. James McClain” currently has his arm stretched out on the back of Mrs. McClain’s seat, looking entirely at ease; the shy, giddy smiles he casts his wife and his stubborn insistence on doing everything for her (opening doors, offering his hand on steps, getting up to retrieve drinks or snacks, etc.) is a sure sign of someone who has recently claimed the title of “husband.” The luster of the ring on his left hand only helps cement that little fact. ]

I think we’re almost there. It should be a fun time, huh, sweetie?

[ The grin he shoots her this time has more of an edge to it, crooked and sly and much more Peter than shy, excited James McClain. ]

I’m sure there’ll be lots to do.

( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

our usernames don't actually match but they still make me happy

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i have meant to tag you on other memes and never done it >__> hi i hope this works, if not i can fix

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vernon milton boyd iv | teen wolf

elektra natchios | daredevil (movie)

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boom, lmk if this works bb ♥

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idk came up with this but tell me if it doesn't work :V

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