1963-11-03 - Girl Talk
Summary: Seeking a bit of normalcy, Liv pays a visit to one of her former co-workers.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
liv heather 


It has been a very eventful, very surreal couple of days in the life of Liv Sigrunsdottir. When the most normal event of the last week involved basically getting into a fistfight with a condo, you know things have started to go completely sideways — and so, whether she would admit it to her roommates or not, Liv is desperate for something that puts her on an even keel. Gods love Jack and Max, but 'calm, smooth sailing' does not accurately represent their collective relationship at all.

So when Heather comes to see who is knocking at the door to her apartment, she is greeted by the sight of a very tired-looking Liv, dressed down — a t-shirt and jeans, leather jacket and motorcycle boots — who raises a bottle of wine in lieu of a wave, her expression hopeful.

"Heather. Company?"

*

"Liv?" Heather is wearing a slightly-too-large white dress shirt tucked into dark grey men's slacks — she's discarded the sensible boots, though, and flipped the cuffs of the pants up a few times to match the rolled sleeves. She's been so busy that she doesn't change when she gets home from work anymore. David doesn't care, no one seems to care, not even if she has to run out to the store in something other than a nice housedress. "Come in!"

She closes the door behind Liv, then herds her toward the kitchen. There's paperwork going on there, and baking. Heather is early on the multitasking trend.

*

"Thank you. You look good," Liv says with a broad, approving smile for the redhead's manner of dress, ducking her head slightly as she strides into the apartment. She actually does need to be herded towards the kitchen, since the niceness and size of the place takes her visibly off-guard. "Oh, wow, I think you could fit three of my place in here."

*

"It's something else, isn't it?" Heather laughs at that. "Sit down, let me feed you. David's out again, on some case. How do you feel about steak? Beer?"

She waves Liv toward the table, then goes digging in the fridge.

*

Well, if Heather's going to offer… "I love both of these things," Liv declares, immediately moving to the table. The bottle of wine is set aside in the face of something that appeals to her more, and she drapes her jacket over the back of a chair before sitting down. "So things are going well, then? That's good."

*

"I love my job." Heather knows that Liv would prefer beer but she's not going to pass up the wine, herself. She puts a cold glass and a bottle of beer on the table in front of Liv, then opens the beer before putting the bottle opener back in its place on the fridge. Then, wine glass for herself and cork screw. "I got to interrogate someone the other day. It was excellent."

Heather opens the wine and sets it to air while she gets out the potatoes to start peeling. Steak, mashed potatoes, salad — coming home to Heather is usually pretty good, even if you only get to do it once in a while. There's a chocolate cake waiting to be iced, that must be the baking she was doing.

"I saw you on the paper, by the way. You looked great. How bad was the fallout?"

*

"Interrogation? That does sound like a better use of you than what the UN had you doing," Liv says with a laugh, raising her eyebrows as she reaches for the bottle. She'd drink straight from it, but Heather did go to the trouble of bringing a cold glass. The least she could do is use it. So, she pours. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. It really does seem to agree with you," she notes, gesturing towards her with her glass before she has a drink.

And then Heather mentions the paper and Liv somehow manages not to snort beer up her nose. "Thanks? It's the stupidest thing. They're putting me up on a pedestal when I'm not the one who actually stopped the bad guys," she grumbles, making a grab for a napkin. Ahem. "There were four of us there and I literally did the least, but nobody cares."

She hesitates a moment before adding, "But I'm on the hunt for a job again. Not the kid's fault."

*

"Come work with me," Heather says easily. She's lightning fast with those potatoes, paring knife flashing, skins spiralling onto a piece of newspaper. "SHIELD could use interpreters. And more women." She gives Liv a grin. "I think Peggy would love a little less testosterone in the room, figuratively speaking."

*

"What, really?" Liv can't help sounding a little skeptical, but she leans forward to peer Heather's way with interest all the same. "You know, I know next to nothing about SHIELD," she admits, dropping her chin into one hand. "But if they value you… I mean, it's a better idea than the Bugle would be. I'm pretty sure I'd strangle the editor within a day."

*

"What do you need to know beyond the fact that they're doing good work, they're international, and they pay on time?" Heather gives Liv a wink, then laughs. "Really, though. Part of why you know so little about them is because they do such good work. There's various places you could be useful and Director Carter does like to hire women. She's got a child of her own and her husband works for SHIELD as well — she's willing to give people a chance."

Heather gets out the pot for the potatoes, to fill it with water and get it started. "You're wasted at the UN, Liv. You're talented, you're strong, you're… different." Heather shrugs at that, it's the only way she knows how to put it. "I could try getting you in the door as a translator but I think you'd make an amazing field agent."

*

Liv starts to open her mouth, then closes it, her brow creasing in thought. There are some things that are bound to come up, and she's having to rapidly recall a few conversations over at the embassy to figure out how problematic addressing them might or might not be. Ugh. Life never used to be this complicated. Why did so many Asgardians have to just show up and mildly inconvenience her this way? They're just the worst.

"…if you want to at least make introductions, I'm not going to argue," Liv finally decides. "I've got rent to pay, after all. And if we were working together again, I could see how your Walk has progressed," she muses thoughtfully, straightening up in her seat.

*

"My walk is pretty good, thank you. You should ask Sean Cassidy, I think he's been watching it enough." Heather laughs at that, then winks at Liv. Potatoes on, she starts on the vegetables, pausing only to pour herself a glass of wine. "The boys there are actually lovely, don't get me wrong. They treat me like a real person. Peggy — Director Carter — has a lot to do with that. She's so amazing, Liv. I know it sounds silly but I want to be her when I grow up. Maybe not the kid…but maybe the kid. Mickey is pretty adorable."

*

Having coworkers treat her like a person does sound like a nice change of pace. Liv hums thoughtfully around another swig of her drink, fingertips drumming against the tabletop. "As long as watching is all they do, I suppose it's fine," she allows, clicking her tongue. "A step up, for sure. Okay, okay, make introductions," she says with a wave of one hand. "I don't really have a resume, but I guess I could put something together."

*

"I don't mind a little looking," Heather admits, then she laughs. "You know, I never noticed people looking before but now, apparently, they do." It's amazing. "I'll talk to Director Carter — it helps to be able to point to your antics in the paper. Where are you from again?"

"Heather sits down at the table with a collander of green beans to prepare for dinner. "It keeps slipping my mind. It helps if it's a NATO country, I'm sure, but I think SHIELD is willing to look at just about anyone with a decent background. There's a lot of power in diversity. I know that, when I was running my team, it was supposed to be Canadian but we took people from other countries. It doesn't make sense to do otherwise. Sometimes, borders feel like a nuisance — and an illusion."

*

Ah, yes. There's that complication Liv was reflecting on. This seems like a very good time to refill her glass, there is not nearly enough beer in it.

"Well. I can confidently say it isn't a NATO country," Liv says with a bit of a sigh. She lightly pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers, thinking. "…hell with it, I seem to recall Odinson mentioning the Director by name, so what's the harm — Asgard." Loki will just have to forgive her for this one. Heather's not going to go to the papers, anyway.

*

"Oh, I should have guessed." Heather shakes her head, laughing. "Usually, Asgardians are not noted for lying low and keeping it quiet. No offense. Really?" She stops cleaning the beans and gives Liv a once-over. "It does explain a lot. I'm sure that Director Carter can work with that. It might be unusual, but we have a lot of unusual at SHIELD."

*

"None taken. 'I'm from Iceland' has just always gone over easier at social gatherings," Liv tells Heather with a very wry smile and a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "Honestly, if there weren't so many of them — " She pauses, winces at herself. "— us, in the city right now? I may not have ever mentioned it."

*

"I can understand that, maybe even more than you'd think. I guess I also don't go around telling people that I was second-in-command of a small government-sanctioned paramilitary group of mutants and meta-humans but, since it will probably be easy enough for you to find out once you're in SHIELD, there you go. Peggy and I knew each other from — well — work. As did David and I." Heather gives Liv a sheepish little smile, then sweeps up the cuttings from the beans to throw them out. "I guess we both have the kind of past that doesn't come up very easily."

*

That actually makes Liv laugh. "I guess so. That probably explains why you seem so much more comfortable in your own skin now," she muses, watching her with an approving look in her eye. "And probably why you and I get along so well. Don't get ahead of yourself, though," she notes, waggling an admonishing finger towards her. "I heard that, 'once you're in SHIELD.' Don't you go assuming it'll work out just because you ask nicely."

*

"I assume it'll go well because I'd hire you. You've integrated well to this culture, you have an excellent civic sense of duty, you have ties to the community." Heather gets the steaks out of the fridge, then checks on the potatoes. "I know that Director Carter has an interest in hiring people with certain 'extra' abilities, and you certainly are a little 'extra'." Heather winks at Liv.

"Yes, it might not work out," Heather allows. "For any one of a dozen reasons. But I prefer to go with the most likely scenario, barring any harm in doing so. And there's no harm in thinking like it will work out here."

*

"See, this is why I like you. You make me sound so upstanding and respectable," Liv laughs, leaning back in her chair and lazily draping one arm over the backrest. "I'm honestly less worried about whether or not the Director would want to hire me than I am how my fellows would react to it. Mind, I left Asgard hundreds of years ago — and I didn't ask first," she notes, frowning down at her drink. "I haven't considered it home in a long time. This is home."

*

"If this is your home, then…perhaps we'll find the paperwork for immigrating." Heather laughs at that idea. "I'm sure there has to be some, somewhere. Maybe you'll be the first. But, if it is a diplomatic issue." She stops, looking thoughtful. "I could come up with something. We could make some kind of proper petition to have you released from service. If we needed to."

*

"If we needed to." Liv sets her glass down so that she can steeple her fingers, her lips twisting to one side as she thinks. "It gets… complicated. I'm meant to be keeping my exact nature quiet — if the papers come to ask me about myself, they're not getting the truth of it," she notes, and she actually looks a little troubled. She understands why, but she's also tired of lying to people. It's exhausting. "But Director Carter knows about us to some degree. So it might be fine."

*

"I'm sure it will be." Heather knocks on the wooden cutting board for luck, then goes back to making dinner. "It would be so lovely to have you working in the same place again. We were run off our feet at the UN — and it was so big — I never got to see enough of you. You know what, you should bring your roommates over some night. We could have a girls' night, I'll send poor David to the bar with one of his friends or something."

*

"Max will drink you out of house and home if you're not careful," Liv warns her, smiling towards Heather from behind her still-steepled fingers. "But I'll ask them. We could stand to do something together." That doesn't involve her sword in any way, shape, or form. Something normal.

Liv lightly taps her fingertips together. "So. Things with David are still going well." It's a statement, not a question, and one she sounds entirely too pleased to be making.

*

"Yes." Heather turns to beam at Liv and then she actually giggles. "I'm ridiculous about him. He's just… it's so good no one at work has asked me anything of the sort or they'd never take me seriously again. He's so wonderful, Liv. And that's actually me talking. I'm not — "

Heather stops in her tracks and spins around. "Not ill. Oh, Liv, there's been the most awful illness going around. You've been okay, haven't you? Not acting oddly, no feeling sick?"

*

Liv does not laugh at Heather when the other woman giggles, but it is a very near thing. Clearly, she likes seeing her friends in such good spirits. "Good! You deserve to be happy. You're over —"

And then Heather's spinning around and doesn't look happy anymore. "…due?" Liv blinks owlishly, sitting up a little straighter. "Ill? No, no, I don't get — I've been fine," she promises, holding up both hands.

*

"Apparently anyone can get this, it's not really — it's complicated. But, if you've been feeling and acting normal, you're fine." Heather exhales sharply with relief. "I was not fine, Liv. I was behaving rather ridiculously. David, apparently, loves me enough to overlook many, many foibles. Even those brought on by brain malfunctions."

She pours the potatoes out into the collander and shakes it angrily before dumping them back in the pot and adding milk and a chunk of butter. "I did a number of things while "under the influence" that I would not have normally done." She mashes the potatoes vindictively. Thump-thump-thump. "Including making some appalling plans to stay home and have babies. Many babies. So as not to disappoint my mother. Because I wasn't good enough for anything else."

*

Liv's nose wrinkles, her upper lip curling in distaste at the very notion, which she does not hesitate to vocalize: "Yuck. Glad to hear you talking about it in the past-tense," she says slowly, her eyes drifting down to watch Heather attempt to create the most mashed potatoes the world has ever seen.

Slowly, Liv gets to her feet, bringing her drink with her as she wanders over to stand in the kitchen with Heather rather than sitting way over at the table. "…well. You do seem like yourself now," she says, flashing a smile. "And things sound like they're going great. So that's good." Right? Right.

*

"It is." Heather exhales again, then gives Liv a smitten look. "How did I end up with a man who is that handsome and that intelligent, who doesn't want me home in the kitchen, who thinks nothing of me wearing pants or carrying a gun? He likes my cooking and he thinks I'm pretty and he wants to kiss me all the time — he said that, which was ridiculous and romantic."

Heather puts the potatoes on the back of the stove, then gets out the pan for the steaks. "When we knew each other before…" She sighs softly, stops to rub her wedding ring instinctively. "I was married and I was happy. I was. And I had my assignments. But I still… He was younger but he smiled less. He was solemn. And handsome. So reserved. So different from most of the men around us. I noticed him, how could I not? And sometimes I feel a little guilty about that. Unfaithful."

*

Liv can't entirely help the way her smile quirks as Heather begins to go on. Even when her musings take her back to her time as Mac's wife, Liv's smile stays put, though it does become a little softer. She sets her glass on a free bit of counter where it won't be in the way, then reaches out to lay her hand against Heather's shoulder.

"Honey. Everybody looks," Liv says, simple as that. "And if you meet somebody who says they've never looked, never had a thought, even one that they immediately dismissed? Then you are meeting some very strange people. Robots, maybe, I don't know."

*

"I supposed it's because, if Mac were alive, I wouldn't be with David. And that — that would be awful. Once, it would have been all right, if someone worked magic and brought Mac back to me. I'd say goodbye to David and run home as fast as I could. For better or for worse." Heather looks down at her hands. "But now, I wouldn't. I would be happy to see Mac and I would go, because I still feel like Mac's wife. But it would break my heart, Liv. I feel guilty for feeling both those things at once."

*

For some reason, even that doesn't cost Liv her smile. It actually widens slightly and she moves closer to Heather's side, sliding her arm fully around the other woman's shoulders. "You torture yourself almost as well as I do," she teases gently, hugging her up against her side. "You are allowed to be happy, Heather. You're allowed to be happier," she says, raising her eyebrows. "It's not — how old did you say you were when you married Mac? That," she says confidently, "was puppy love. At best. And there is nothing wrong with that, but this? Is not puppy love, now, is it?"

*

"Seventeen. I'm not sure we were even in love at the start. I did love him, but in love? I don't think I knew what that was. I'd known him since before I got my first training bra, I knew what he kept in his fridge, I did his laundry and watered his plants and, eventually, I knew all his secrets. But. That's not like falling in love." Heather puts her head on Liv's shoulder with a sigh. "Mac is so much of who I am — he was who I am, everything I had was because of him. I was so lucky he was as good to me as he was. He made me, Liv. But David… when I look at David it's like falling down ten flights of stairs at once and ending up in the clouds."

*

"Mmmmhm. Yeah, puppy love does not turn one into a poet," Liv murmurs thoughtfully, leaning her cheek against the top of Heather's head when it falls against her shoulder. "I'm afraid that whatever you had with Mac is not what you have with David. You, my dear, are smitten." A grave diagnosis, to be sure. Maybe the hug will help soften the blow. "To hear you tell it, it does sound very mutual. So that's good."

*

"Gosh, it's awful," Heather says, then giggles. "I didn't know people felt like this. Sometimes I feel like I'm annoying David with it. He's older than I am and wiser and I feel a bit like a schoolgirl, interrupting his day by wanting to kiss him and rumple his suits. So to speak." She clears her throat and straightens. That pan is hot, it's time to get the steaks in it.

"Which is not like me," she adds. "I was worried it was just that brain infection thing going on but it does seem to be consistent, still. I finally understand why people go on honeymoons — because you don't have to worry about getting to work the next day. Or the next day." Heather puts the steaks in the pan as though everything is normal but her cheeks are so hot she might well be able to skip the broiler if she just stands there.

*

"Mac was older than you, too. Someone has a type~" Liv teases her in a sing-song voice, beaming sweetly at her before releasing her shoulders to let Heather go for the steaks. She does stay close by, though, because it is only fair to stay within swatting range after saying such a thing.

Still, Liv smiles cheerfully and reaches back to retrieve her beer. "It's still new for you. You'll regain the ability to think straight around him eventually." She pauses. "I mean, probably. I haven't seen him, but if he's handsome enough, that feeling might well just be something you've gotta learn to live around."

*

"It's good that we don't work together, then." Heather starts the green beans steaming while the steaks cook. "I think I'd lose the respect of the whole department by walking into desks and doorframes. It's kind of scary." She looks over her shoulder at Liv. "Have you ever been in love like that?"

*

"No." There's no hesitation at all, and no real weight behind the truth of it. It is what it is, and Liv seems fine with it. She leans her hip against a free spot of counter, loosely holding her drink in both hands. "I've been infatuated before," she murmurs thoughtfully, tilting her head to one side and looking up towards the ceiling. "But never in love, no. Definitely never in love like that."

*

"Oh, it's awful, I don't recommend it at all." Heather is only mostly kidding. She takes a drink of her wine, then flips the steaks before sliding them into the oven. Time to set the table. "It's unnerving. It's also…I keep feeling this weird conflict between expectations and feelings. I feel like if I love David so much, I should want children with him, but it hasn't happened. I mean. I do in some vague distant sense — I could imagine him being a wonderful father. But I can't imagine choosing to have children with him right now."

*

Liv gives an airy wave of one hand and trails along after Heather. "Then don't. You might change your mind later, or you might not — either way is completely valid. You," she says dryly, reaching over to lightly tap Heather on the nose with a fingertip. Boop. "are just too used to analyzing things and making plans. It's your job, it's what you're good at. Doesn't work here," she notes, sounding apologetic. "You'll just have to cope."

*

"I can't imagine." Heather puts a hand to her belly, just below her navel. "Having a person in there. It's creepy." She shivers, then gets back to their dinner. Steak, just barely cooked, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a gravy that Heather works up at the last minute, throwing in some of the wine she's drinking.

"Sit down," she says, shooing Liv to the table. "I'll get you another beer and then we'll eat."

*

She doesn't have to tell Liv twice. The Asgardian obediently steps around to reclaim her seat, quickly draining the rest of her glass as she sits down. What? There's another beer coming, she has to make room. "I don't disagree. I try not to think about that too much," she says with a snicker, slowly shaking her head. "That's… not for me. No. Someone else can do it."

*

"Maybe it'll hit me some day, the way falling in love did." Heather brings Liv the beer, sets out their plates, refills her wine glass, then settles in across from Liv. "But not today. And not ten. I was convinced I could manage ten, Liv."

*

Don't cackle, Liv, it's rude. She forces herself to swallow the laugh, lips twitching oddly as she struggles to keep it down. "Sorry. Ten? Nnnnno, no, that is too damned many, even if you like babies." She reaches out to pour her fresh beer, eyes twinkling. "What did David think about that?"

*

"I didn't tell him," Heather admits, looking up from cutting into her steak. "I was afraid he'd leave me." By the time she finishes saying that, she's laughing so hard she has to reach for her napkin to wipe her eyes.

*

Okay. Maybe cackle a little. Liv at least looks a little apologetic about it. "Lord. At least you're on the same page when you're thinking straight?" she muses, slowly shaking her head and grabbing her silverware. This steak is not gonna last long, it looks too good.

*

"We are. It's lovely. I miss him when I'm at work, or when he's at work, but it's so nice to feel like separate people. I feel like myself more and more. Is it terrible that I had fun doing interrogations?" Heather digs into her dinner with a vengeance. Apparently being in love — and interrogating people — makes her very hungry. "Much more interesting than shooting people."

*

"No more terrible than the fact that I enjoyed the city's demon infestation for how it let me cut loose," Liv replies lightly, aiming a teasing smile towards Heather as she pops a piece of steak into her mouth. "No, no, it makes sense. You're getting to do something tangible, that's always a good feeling."

*

"I like picking people apart, and that's a horrible thing to say, but they're like puzzles," Heather says, pausing between bites. "It'll be so great if you get to work at SHIELD, Liv. I'll still be Peggy's assistant and you'll probably be an actual agent but we can still do things together sometimes. Like play good-cop-bad-cop. We can flip for bad cop."

*

"You'd probably make a better bad cop than I would. Unless I can bring a sword into interrogation," Liv says thoughtfully, carving up her steak as she mulls this over. "I can be physically intimidating, but you probably know people better than I do and that's a lot scarier, to most folks."

*

"I dunno. A good punch in the face goes a long way to loosening someone's tongue." Heather laughs a little at that. "But I like the idea of being scary. I've never been scary before." Well, not that she knows about, anyway.

*

Liv cocks her head to one side, at that. "Oh, well. If I'm allowed to hit them." Sure, she can be a good Bad Cop if it's full contact. She hums thoughtfully. "A lot of people get a little shaky when they realize I can put them over my head with one hand."

*

"Peggy and I have a joke that SHIELD is where the men are men and the women are scary." Heather laughs a little. "So, I think you'll fit right in. I'm going to talk to her in the morning. If there's a way, we'll get you on the team. If only you can teach us all to murder-walk."

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