i'm like a lawyer with the way i'm always trying to get you off | Marvel Comics | Kate/Jen/Patsy
t: i’m like a lawyer with the way i’m always trying to get you off
f: Young Avengers/She-Hulk
p: Kate/Jennifer, Kate/Patsy, Kate/Patsy/Jennifer, Jennifer/Patsy
ch: femslash100 - kinks table prompts: 6. biting/bruising, 3. authority, 17. obedience, 1. altered states, 14. groups
r/wc: PG-13/1250
s: Kate tries a law internship. Nobody gets a lot of work done.
n: [Title is a Fall Out Boy song, yep.] Written so the 5 drabbles are distinct scenes, but strung together into what kind of resembles a story (and much lower rating than the prompts suggest!) I couldn’t resist, I’m not even sorry. Don’t ask about timelines; sometime post Young Avengers and Hawkeye, and post the recent Marvel Now She-Hulk run.
Biting/Bruising.
“I was pretty sure this internship was supposed to involve less damage to my clothing and my… me than that shit I had going down in LA,” Kate says, taking an icepack from Patsy.
“I have no idea who told you that,” Jennifer says, one of the icepacks already strapped to her elbow, blouse shredded so much it’s basically just accessorising her bra. “I didn’t promise anything.”
“Don’t look at me,” Patsy shrugs, apparently deciding that her leggings are never going to recover and tearing them straight off her battered legs. Kate doesn’t look at all the thigh, and then looks at all the thigh, and then looks away again. “Ugh, one of those little blue fuckers bit me, I wish I’d stamped on him more.”
Jennifer is watching Kate with an amused look on her face, but Kate refuses to blush, pressing the icepack to one blooming black eye instead.
“I assumed I was just going to get papercuts from your filing,” she tries to explain.
“Like Angie will let you touch her filing system,” Patsy scoffs, stripping off what’s left of her t-shirt. Kate chokes, and covers badly.
“I’m not sure you’re paying me enough for a clothing stipend,” she manages, as Patsy swears at the discovery she lost a chunk of her bra along with her t-shirt.
“Sweetheart, we’re not paying you at all,” Jennifer replies, propping bare feet on her desk, toenails still flawlessly painted lilac. “Did we forget to mention that as well?”
Kate groans.
Authority.
Kate’s gotten pretty used to being self-employed and being her own boss, for better or worse (often worse: it turns out she doesn’t offer dental). Having to periodically shuffle over to the Avengers mansion and apologise to Steve Rogers for whatever they’ve done now isn’t really like having a boss.
Jennifer Walters, however, is definitely Kate’s boss.
“So,” she says, “it turns out I have a bit of a thing for authority.”
Neither Billy nor Teddy look particularly surprised.
“You have a type, Kate,” Billy says, sipping his screwdriver. “Men who are failboats, and women who are imposing and can mangle you a bit.”
“That’s…” Kate begins, and then just drinks her cosmopolitan.
“Bobbi, Natasha, all of Clint’s ex… women,” Teddy begins, ticking the names off on his fingers.
“…Madam Masque, America, and now I guess She-Hulk,” Billy adds.
“Jen is hot,” Patsy says, coming out of nowhere to drop into their booth next to Kate. “Hey, kids. Isn’t at least one of you underage?”
Both Billy and Teddy are wearing their wow-a-famous-superheroine-just-rocked-up faces, and are no help at all.
“How long have you been here?” Kate asks, draining her glass.
“I’m actually out with Greer,” Patsy says cheerfully, “but you’re really unobservant, and also your horrified face was like a siren call from across the bar.”
This is why Kate would prefer to just have teammates, not coworkers. Awkward.
“Um,” she says.
“It’s okay,” Patsy adds, “I’m not your boss, but I know you find me plenty hot anyway.”
Obedience.
It’s late; like, really late. Jennifer’s out schmoozing a judge or possibly punching some kind of wrongdoer or catching up with one of the billion teams she seems to have been, or something like that, and Kate is doing what she’s been told and going through several telephone transcripts with a highlighter pen and a lot of coffee.
So far, Kate’s attempt at something that might lead to gainful adult employment has pretty much just been awkward, dangerous and dull, in weirdly disparate amounts. She has no idea how David or Tommy survive, dashing off to periodically make out in closets notwithstanding.
“Still here, huh?” Patsy says, the door swinging open. She’s technically freelance, which Kate thinks mean she isn’t supposed to be here as much as she is, but it’s not like she’s complaining.
“Jennifer asked me to get these done for the morning,” Kate replies, waving her pen vaguely.
Patsy shuts the door behind her; there’s the click of the lock.
“It’s not like you’re getting paid for it,” she says, something beyond teasing weaving through her voice. Kate looks up.
“Jennifer asked me-” she begins.
“Well, I was going to ask you to hop up on that desk so I can eat you out and not screw my knees up,” Patsy says, casual and cheerful, “but if you’re busy being a good girl-”
Kate scrambles so fast her chair spins across the room and the transcripts go everywhere; still, she can worry about that later. Much later.
Altered States.
They’re drinking in a lawyer bar, which just seems to mean that the drinks are wincingly expensive. At least Kate isn’t paying.
“I cannot believe,” Jennifer says, “that you beat me to Seduce The Intern. Again.”
“I told Matt he shouldn’t bet against me,” Patsy grins, while Kate says: “again?”
“I’m very professional,” Jennifer says brightly. She’s drunk at least twice as much as Kate and Patsy have, but then she is a large green Hulk woman; her metabolism must be amazing.
“I’m not,” Patsy says, unrepentant. “Also I’m pretty sure Bishop here wants you to pull some Devil Wears Prada shit on her.”
“Oh my god,” Kate says, and reaches for more tequila.
Jennifer is looking thoughtful. “I thought I was the cool boss,” she says.
“I like the cool boss,” Patsy says, swaying into Jennifer’s side and then not moving, face smushed into her neck. “I think Kate likes the boss thing.”
“I hate you,” Kate tells her, even with Patsy’s hand on her thigh high enough that it’s pretty inappropriate. “I’m going to tear this up.”
She waves a piece of paper that Jennifer takes off her, frowning as she reads the small print. “You drafted this saying we could both take you home while you were drunk and you wouldn’t sue us in the morning.”
“I signed it and everything,” Kate adds.
“I managed to teach you something,” Jennifer says, looking delighted, and then elbows Patsy, who’s still draped against her. “Go get us a cab.”
Groups.
Kate’s slept with America - who’s basically indestructible - and Noh-Varr - who sometimes forgot that human skin is different to Kree skin - and Tommy - who moved fast enough that the friction burns were quite something - and lived to have other people tell the tales while she glared at them, so it’s not like she wakes up in Jennifer’s massive - massive - bed for the third morning in a row surprised by the fact she’s probably going to need at least a couple of band-aids before she can make it into work.
Patsy lives up to the Hellcat thing - seriously, her nails - and Jennifer does a remarkably good job of reigning in that awe-inspiring strength and they are both ludicrously sexy and friendly and Kate suspects that she won’t be asking for any kind of permanent job. For one thing, Jennifer’s already got a paralegal who’s better than Kate will ever be, and for another thing, she’s never going to be able to do anything functional while she’s busy thinking about her boss holding her down while her co-worker fingered her into a sobbing mess.
Kate already knew that Patsy and Jennifer worked well together, because they’re just about keeping Jennifer’s practice running, but she never really appreciated their teamwork until now.
Kate drinks coffee and periodically sends America probably-inappropriate snapchats of Patsy wandering around in Jennifer’s old college t-shirt and panties and listens to Jennifer humming in the shower, and reflects that, hey: she got something good out of this internship, after all.
f: Young Avengers/She-Hulk
p: Kate/Jennifer, Kate/Patsy, Kate/Patsy/Jennifer, Jennifer/Patsy
ch: femslash100 - kinks table prompts: 6. biting/bruising, 3. authority, 17. obedience, 1. altered states, 14. groups
r/wc: PG-13/1250
s: Kate tries a law internship. Nobody gets a lot of work done.
n: [Title is a Fall Out Boy song, yep.] Written so the 5 drabbles are distinct scenes, but strung together into what kind of resembles a story (and much lower rating than the prompts suggest!) I couldn’t resist, I’m not even sorry. Don’t ask about timelines; sometime post Young Avengers and Hawkeye, and post the recent Marvel Now She-Hulk run.
Biting/Bruising.
“I was pretty sure this internship was supposed to involve less damage to my clothing and my… me than that shit I had going down in LA,” Kate says, taking an icepack from Patsy.
“I have no idea who told you that,” Jennifer says, one of the icepacks already strapped to her elbow, blouse shredded so much it’s basically just accessorising her bra. “I didn’t promise anything.”
“Don’t look at me,” Patsy shrugs, apparently deciding that her leggings are never going to recover and tearing them straight off her battered legs. Kate doesn’t look at all the thigh, and then looks at all the thigh, and then looks away again. “Ugh, one of those little blue fuckers bit me, I wish I’d stamped on him more.”
Jennifer is watching Kate with an amused look on her face, but Kate refuses to blush, pressing the icepack to one blooming black eye instead.
“I assumed I was just going to get papercuts from your filing,” she tries to explain.
“Like Angie will let you touch her filing system,” Patsy scoffs, stripping off what’s left of her t-shirt. Kate chokes, and covers badly.
“I’m not sure you’re paying me enough for a clothing stipend,” she manages, as Patsy swears at the discovery she lost a chunk of her bra along with her t-shirt.
“Sweetheart, we’re not paying you at all,” Jennifer replies, propping bare feet on her desk, toenails still flawlessly painted lilac. “Did we forget to mention that as well?”
Kate groans.
Authority.
Kate’s gotten pretty used to being self-employed and being her own boss, for better or worse (often worse: it turns out she doesn’t offer dental). Having to periodically shuffle over to the Avengers mansion and apologise to Steve Rogers for whatever they’ve done now isn’t really like having a boss.
Jennifer Walters, however, is definitely Kate’s boss.
“So,” she says, “it turns out I have a bit of a thing for authority.”
Neither Billy nor Teddy look particularly surprised.
“You have a type, Kate,” Billy says, sipping his screwdriver. “Men who are failboats, and women who are imposing and can mangle you a bit.”
“That’s…” Kate begins, and then just drinks her cosmopolitan.
“Bobbi, Natasha, all of Clint’s ex… women,” Teddy begins, ticking the names off on his fingers.
“…Madam Masque, America, and now I guess She-Hulk,” Billy adds.
“Jen is hot,” Patsy says, coming out of nowhere to drop into their booth next to Kate. “Hey, kids. Isn’t at least one of you underage?”
Both Billy and Teddy are wearing their wow-a-famous-superheroine-just-rocked-up faces, and are no help at all.
“How long have you been here?” Kate asks, draining her glass.
“I’m actually out with Greer,” Patsy says cheerfully, “but you’re really unobservant, and also your horrified face was like a siren call from across the bar.”
This is why Kate would prefer to just have teammates, not coworkers. Awkward.
“Um,” she says.
“It’s okay,” Patsy adds, “I’m not your boss, but I know you find me plenty hot anyway.”
Obedience.
It’s late; like, really late. Jennifer’s out schmoozing a judge or possibly punching some kind of wrongdoer or catching up with one of the billion teams she seems to have been, or something like that, and Kate is doing what she’s been told and going through several telephone transcripts with a highlighter pen and a lot of coffee.
So far, Kate’s attempt at something that might lead to gainful adult employment has pretty much just been awkward, dangerous and dull, in weirdly disparate amounts. She has no idea how David or Tommy survive, dashing off to periodically make out in closets notwithstanding.
“Still here, huh?” Patsy says, the door swinging open. She’s technically freelance, which Kate thinks mean she isn’t supposed to be here as much as she is, but it’s not like she’s complaining.
“Jennifer asked me to get these done for the morning,” Kate replies, waving her pen vaguely.
Patsy shuts the door behind her; there’s the click of the lock.
“It’s not like you’re getting paid for it,” she says, something beyond teasing weaving through her voice. Kate looks up.
“Jennifer asked me-” she begins.
“Well, I was going to ask you to hop up on that desk so I can eat you out and not screw my knees up,” Patsy says, casual and cheerful, “but if you’re busy being a good girl-”
Kate scrambles so fast her chair spins across the room and the transcripts go everywhere; still, she can worry about that later. Much later.
Altered States.
They’re drinking in a lawyer bar, which just seems to mean that the drinks are wincingly expensive. At least Kate isn’t paying.
“I cannot believe,” Jennifer says, “that you beat me to Seduce The Intern. Again.”
“I told Matt he shouldn’t bet against me,” Patsy grins, while Kate says: “again?”
“I’m very professional,” Jennifer says brightly. She’s drunk at least twice as much as Kate and Patsy have, but then she is a large green Hulk woman; her metabolism must be amazing.
“I’m not,” Patsy says, unrepentant. “Also I’m pretty sure Bishop here wants you to pull some Devil Wears Prada shit on her.”
“Oh my god,” Kate says, and reaches for more tequila.
Jennifer is looking thoughtful. “I thought I was the cool boss,” she says.
“I like the cool boss,” Patsy says, swaying into Jennifer’s side and then not moving, face smushed into her neck. “I think Kate likes the boss thing.”
“I hate you,” Kate tells her, even with Patsy’s hand on her thigh high enough that it’s pretty inappropriate. “I’m going to tear this up.”
She waves a piece of paper that Jennifer takes off her, frowning as she reads the small print. “You drafted this saying we could both take you home while you were drunk and you wouldn’t sue us in the morning.”
“I signed it and everything,” Kate adds.
“I managed to teach you something,” Jennifer says, looking delighted, and then elbows Patsy, who’s still draped against her. “Go get us a cab.”
Groups.
Kate’s slept with America - who’s basically indestructible - and Noh-Varr - who sometimes forgot that human skin is different to Kree skin - and Tommy - who moved fast enough that the friction burns were quite something - and lived to have other people tell the tales while she glared at them, so it’s not like she wakes up in Jennifer’s massive - massive - bed for the third morning in a row surprised by the fact she’s probably going to need at least a couple of band-aids before she can make it into work.
Patsy lives up to the Hellcat thing - seriously, her nails - and Jennifer does a remarkably good job of reigning in that awe-inspiring strength and they are both ludicrously sexy and friendly and Kate suspects that she won’t be asking for any kind of permanent job. For one thing, Jennifer’s already got a paralegal who’s better than Kate will ever be, and for another thing, she’s never going to be able to do anything functional while she’s busy thinking about her boss holding her down while her co-worker fingered her into a sobbing mess.
Kate already knew that Patsy and Jennifer worked well together, because they’re just about keeping Jennifer’s practice running, but she never really appreciated their teamwork until now.
Kate drinks coffee and periodically sends America probably-inappropriate snapchats of Patsy wandering around in Jennifer’s old college t-shirt and panties and listens to Jennifer humming in the shower, and reflects that, hey: she got something good out of this internship, after all.