[ Budapest, Hungary ]
Looking at the ragged mess that used to be her coat, Daisy rolled her eyes and huffed. She'd bought the thing dirt cheap from a street vendor just to sneak into that bar, and now it looked like it had been through a blender. In less than ten seconds, she reduced the coat to fabric confetti. Then came the underwear dilemma—it was not rip-friendly, and worse, she had no spare.
"Shower first, laundry later," she grumbled, already strategizing.
Unfortunately, the hotel they'd picked was more of a glorified broom closet with a single shared bathroom. It was cheap, inconspicuous, and probably hadn't been cleaned properly since the Cold War.
Now, they were two women, and theoretically, privacy shouldn't have been a problem. But if Daisy wanted bathroom exclusivity, she'd have to chloroform Hill. That fantasy died a quick death when Hill beat her to it, shrugging off her jacket and strolling into the bathroom like she owned the place.
The last time they'd changed clothes, there had already been a whiff of tension. Now, standing shoulder to shoulder in a cramped bathroom with fogged-up mirrors and lingering champagne-scented chaos, the tension grew thick enough to spread on toast. The air was hot, the wine buzz strong, and every accidental brush of elbow or thigh added sparks to the already crackling air.
Daisy silently cursed the universe for not handing her the proper tools to make bad decisions tonight.
Talking about Madam Gao in this steamy setting? Absurd. Philosophical debates? Out of the question. Quantum physics? Please.
"Need help with your back?" Hill asked suddenly, her tone casual but eyes... maybe not entirely.
Daisy turned slowly, searching those blue eyes for mischief. Nope, just plain old helpfulness. She nodded and turned around.
Maria's fingers were like spells. From her neck to her lower back, Daisy felt every touch like a zap. She tried reciting Newton's laws in her head to fight the blush that threatened to rise.
"You've got a model's figure," Maria murmured, admiring Daisy's toned back. "Not a single scar. How did you even survive S.H.I.E.L.D. training?"
Daisy chuckled nervously. She couldn't exactly spill the beans about the Terrigen-induced self-healing powers. "Guess I'm lucky. Clean living. Lots of kale."
"Well, your turn. Help a tired agent out?" Hill asked, turning around with a soft smirk.
Daisy obliged, noting a light knife wound and a nasty gunshot scar. As she gently traced them, she couldn't resist offering, "I know a trick—an old-school oriental massage method. Clears scars. Super effective. Want me to try?"
Maria raised a skeptical eyebrow but nodded. "Go for it."
Daisy aimed the showerhead at the scar and channeled a tiny pulse of her vibration ability through her fingers.
"AHHH—!" Maria jolted as if a lightning bolt had struck her soul and rewired her brain. Her body spasmed briefly before she clung to the wall, gasping.
Daisy panicked. "Oh my God! I swear I didn't mean for that to feel... whatever that was! It's just... vibrations!"
Maria didn't respond. She wrapped herself in a towel and bolted out of the bathroom, leaving behind a very startled Inhuman.
Daisy finished her shower in record time, muttering apologies to no one in particular. She washed her alcohol-soaked underwear and stepped out to find Maria in bed, feigning sleep.
She didn't push it. They were both tired, both buzzed, and whatever had just happened was definitely going to be awkward in the morning.
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[ The Next Morning ]
When Daisy woke up, Hill was examining her reflection with intense focus.
"So? Massage results?" Daisy teased, arms crossed, amused by the expression of disbelief on Maria's face.
The scar was gone—completely erased. Not even a shadow remained.
"We... we're never talking about this again," Maria muttered, pulling her shirt on.
"Sure, sure. Our little 'spa night' stays secret," Daisy grinned.
They got dressed, checked out, and headed to the rendezvous. On the way, they shared fleeting glances—Daisy with amused curiosity, Maria with a hint of self-consciousness.
Black Widow spotted them immediately and narrowed her eyes. "You two look like you had... an experience. Trouble?"
"False lead. Wild goose chase. You know how it is," Daisy lied smoothly.
Maria nodded silently. Widow's suspicion didn't fade, but she let it go. Veteran agent rule: don't poke secrets unless you're ready for the fallout.
"Sharon found something about Dr. Pym. Come on, we've got work."
Both women straightened. Romance, confusion, and mysteriously vanishing scars could wait.
Duty called.
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