Title: genre hopping
Fandom: Marvel Comics (West Coast Avengers)
Pairing: Gwen Poole/Quentin Quire
Rating: PG-13
Length: 800 words
Content Notes: no major warnings apply. Contains post-fight mentions of violence, blood, and minor injuries.
Summary: Gwen and Quentin share a post-battle bath with a side of angst and some squishy feelings.



Quentin leaned against the closed door and watched Gwen run the water for a post-battle bath. It had been a rough mission and he was still feeling a little unmoored.

“All my muscles are sore, Quentin. Each and every single one of them!” Gwen held her hand under the running water, testing the temperature. He knew she was feeling rattled too.

“Even the muscles in your hands?” He asked just to keep her talking.

“Especially the muscles in my hands. Did you see me punching that thug in the face?” Gwen adjusted the temperature again. She liked the water hot.

As if he could have missed it. “Oh yeah, - saw that.” Quentin had been a bit worried about how overboard she’d gone. She’d been really mad.

“That asshole hurt kids, Quentin. Poor defenseless children!”

“Yeah, I know.” He hadn’t been happy about the situation either, especially since they’d been mutant children. If Quentin had a soft spot, that was probably it. Not that he had a soft spot, of course.

Gwen turned the faucet, shutting off the cascade of water. “Still, I feel like the violence was a bit more extreme than usual for this particular subgenre. It felt a bit overdone, like maybe the writer was going through something, you know?”

Crap. Quentin closed his eyes and inwardly sighed. She was doing it again. Talking as if the world that they lived in was just a story. Something out of some comic book she used to read back in the world she came from. Gwen didn’t get like this too often these days - the whole acting as if this world wasn’t real just because she came from a different one. It usually only happened when she was seriously shaken. This fight had shaken her. It had shaken him too. He opened his eyes and frowned when he saw the bruises already blossoming on Gwen’s skin as she undressed and stepped into the tub.

“You coming?” Gwen asked. She’d eased herself all the way into the tub. He quirked an eyebrow at her question and opened his mouth to say something suggestive when Gwen interrupted him.

“Just get into the tub, Quentin.

He shut his mouth and stripped off his shirt. He was probably gonna have to toss it. It was sporting a huge rip in the side and several interestingly placed blood spatters on the front. Gwen hadn’t been wrong about it being a rougher than usual fight. He’d had more than one close call himself that night.

He dropped his boxer briefs on the floor and kicked them into the corner before stepping into the hot water. He slid in behind Gwen so that her back leaned against his chest. They’d done this before. It’d become some kind of strange yet soothing ritual after a particularly difficult battle or mission. This one had definitely fit the criteria.

He picked up a pink and white polka-dotted washcloth and gently washed her back. There was a long shallow slice along the back of one of her arms. When had that happened? How had he missed it? His attention must have been elsewhere. There had been a lot going on. Too many bad guys and not enough of team members. As much as he despised Barton, Quentin wished he’d get back from whatever pointless mission The East Coast Avengers had sent him on. He wasn’t going to call them the “real avengers” as far as Quentin was concerned the only Avengers that mattered resided on the West Coast and had him as a member.

Quentin thought about asking Gwen about the cut on her arm but it wasn’t bleeding anymore and he didn’t want to fight about how he thought she needed to be more careful and how she thought he should shut up. They’d had that argument before. Many times. Instead, he kissed the back of her neck and enjoyed the way the warm water soothed his own tired muscles.

When the water turned tepid, they got out and toweled off. “Why don’t you let me bandage that arm for you,” he offered.

Gwen turned her arm to look at the slice, then shrugged. “I’ll allow it.”

After some minor first aid, they tumbled into bed too tired to do much of anything beyond cuddling up together. Gwen slipped her hand in his. “You know what, Quentin?”

He pulled her closer. “What?”

“I kind of love you. Like capital L - love you.”

Quentin smiled. “Yeah? Well, that’s cool ‘cause I kind of love you too Gwendolyn Poole.”

“Well, I guess that’s okay then Quintavius Quire.” Gwen sounded like she was well on her way to falling asleep.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he managed to say before letting sleep take him away from the world for a while.