“I bet it’s a trick.”

Wendy chuckles before taking a small sip of the swirling red liquid in her hand, the sound muffled by the glass pressed against . But her gaze never leaves Joy’s form, who’s eyeing the unmoved hammer resting on top of the Moons’ coffee table with so much skepticism, she could be part of the council.

“It’s really not,” says Wendy. She at her lips, savoring the taste of the red wine that lingers. (How can she not? When it came from halfway across the world, brought and offered by the hands of the one person she travels universes for just to see.

Though, it’s always going to taste better off of Eunji’s lips.)

“It’s much more than that.”

Beside her, Eunji wholeheartedly agrees. “It is. Trust me. I’ve already tried.”

Wendy twists to face her, her long blonde hair swaying with the movement. She leans up, presses what’s meant to be a chaste kiss full of sympathy on Eunji’s lips. But the wine is already talking, letting her tongue loose, and so what’s meant to be something innocent ends up with Joy having to break them apart with a perfectly aimed throw pillow, smack dab in the middle of their faces.

Eunji pulls away first, stooping down to hide her laugh on Wendy’s neck. The smaller woman, in turn, glares disapprovingly at Joy.

(She didn’t travel back to Earth all the way from Asgard to be… interrupted like this.)

“Whatever, unnies. It’s a trick,” Joy continues to insist.

Wendy only snorts in response. Then, she lifts a hand, gesturing at the hammer that’s still standing in a slant, its ancient handle pointing upwards while half of its body rests on top of the monopoly board game they have long since discarded. “Please, be my guest.”

Yeri bolts up from the couch she’s lying on, interest clearly piqued. “You’re serious? You’re gonna let her try?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Joy slowly heaves herself up, a smug smirk already shaping on her lips. She struts towards the hammer, fingers wrapping around the handle as she says, “You do know I’ve seen you do this before, right? Wendy-unnie?”

The woman in question merely shrugs. Though, her light chuckles turn into a full blown laugh at the sight of Joy’s face crumpling as she tries to lift the mjolnir. Her grunts echo all over the penthouse’s living room, but Yeri’s cackle wins over and drowns out the sound.

“Yah!” Joy gripes at the younger girl. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me with this?”

“It’s not my thing,” Yeri replies. “I let my webs do the lifting.”

Joy gives the hammer two more tugs, a third that she swears almost busts her shoulder joint (a thing that she’s probably going to pay the price for with a couple of missed shots until the throbbing fades away.)

But the damn thing doesn’t even move an inch.

“Do you smell that, Agent Park? It’s silent judgement.” Moonbyul jests from her spot. A hissed oomf follows as she feels the sharp elbow her wife, Yongsun, nudges her side with.

“I’d like to see you try, unnie!”

“I’m never one to back down from a challenge.”

She stands up, pops off the button of her black coat, and shrugs it off. Joy moves back to her seat, letting Moonbyul take her place. “It’s all about Physics, really.”

The older woman then darts a hand out, only pulling it back when the red and gold metallic hand of her suit slides itself on her outstretched right hand. She holds the hammer’s handle next, and says, so if I lift it, I get to rule Asgard, right before firing up the suit’s hand’s mini-jet engines.

It doesn’t budge; of course it doesn’t. Wendy’s smirk grows into a grin.

“I guess it’s my turn to try?” Seulgi finally speaks. She begrudgingly disentangles herself away from the warmth Irene’s arms are encaging her with—just to get it over with so she can go right back to cuddling with the love of her life—pulls the sleeves of her hoodie up to her elbows.

Though, before she can drag her behind off the couch, Irene is already pulling her back, cupping her cheeks to press a good luck kiss. “You can do it, baby.”

Across them, Yeri groans in protest as Joy shouts, “Get on with it, Cap! You can make out with Doctor Bae later! The honor of us mere mortals are at stake here.”

Seulgi chuckles, shaking her head. She slides off the couch, plants her feet right in front of the hammer, and lets both her hands firmly grip the handle in two tight fists.

She gives it a hard tug, holding her breath just so she can pull without the mere force of the ancient weapon making her stumble forward. She feels her arms and her muscles ripple in protest over the weight, but she soldiers on just like every bit of the captain that she is.

And then, like a miracle, it moves.

Nobody really notices the miniscule movement, that small moment where the hammer is slightly lifted off of the table. Save for Wendy, who is now watching with bated breath as Seulgi tries to pull it a second time.

It’s six seconds of great Odin, my father is going to banish me to another dimension echoing inside her head, until Seulgi sighs in defeat and shakes her head.

Wendy lets out a nervous laugh, then takes a huge gulp of wine to douse her suddenly parched throat.

“I’m starting to think it’s rigged,” Moonbyul states, pointing at the hammer with her beer can. “It only responds to Wendy’s fingerprints.”

“Interesting theory,” answers Wendy. This time, it’s her who holds the handle, picking mjolnir up like its weight is made of feathers.

She shrugs, throws the hammer into the air in a flip, and catches it easily with one hand.

“Or you know, you’re all just not worthy.”

--

More stories by d0remifasolar