Daughter Dearest

thirty-two

Venus mentally cursed herself all while plastering on a smile, hoping nobody noticed her brief panicked reaction. Although, anyone would've had a moment of panic if they fucked the guy they were kinda into and his ex wife was where they were staying the next day. At least, she thought so. 

“I do hate to cut introductions short. . . But I've been on the road all morning and I would like to freshen up and rest before dinner.” Venus spoke before turning her attention to Lilith, completely avoiding looking at Lucifer, knowing he wouldn't be looking at her. 

“It was wonderful meeting you, if only for a few moments. . . I do hope we can become better acquainted over time.” Only, she didn't want that at all. She then left the room, not noticing Natasha and Angel Dust following behind her until she reached her room. 

She ignored them for the moment, unsure of what to say. Instead, she gathered clothes and prepared to shower for the second time that morning. 

Natasha closed the bedroom door leaving the three of them alone in the room. “What happened? I haven't seen you leave the room that quickly since you saw that agent you liked with another woman.” 

“Nothing happened.” Venus lied. She felt horrible lying, but it was her best shot at emotional preservation. She'd given her energy in a way she never had with other suitors. . . And as it seemed, the universe always had a way of screwing her right back. 

“You two totally fucked.” Angel Dust spoke up, leaning against the wall. 

Venus didn't deny it immediately, which was enough of an admission for the two. “Whether we did or not, it does not matter. . . She was his wife for longer than any of us have lived, so he will choose her.” 

“Oh, come on! You don't know that.” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest. 

“But I do. . . While I do attract attention, the agent chose the woman who was his childhood friend. The man Odin chose as my husband, chose a maid. . . Lucifer will choose her. If not for himself, for Charlie. She is her mother after all.” 

Venus cleared her throat, forcing the emotions down. This new ordeal proved they were a waste of time. “I must rest. It has been a long day. We may talk later.” She walked into the bathroom and closed the door before anyone could say anything else. 

She felt something. A lot of things. Anger. Jealousy. Fear. Sadness. Attraction for the King of Hell. All feelings she wished she could strangle. 

So she stood under the running water, staring at the white tiled wall until every emotion that was running rampant in her mind bubbled to the surface, boiling over, releasing in a muffled sob. 

★†★

After her shower and her nap that was more of an escape from reality than anything, she found herself sitting around the kitchen table with some of her family members. 

Venus, Loki, and Wanda were sipping on tea, whereas Clint was nursing his third cup of coffee since the game of go fish — with the uno cards — began, and Thor was just happy to be there. 

“So, your meeting was terrible?” Loki clarified, shuffling through his hand of cards for matches. 

“That's putting it kindly. . . Although it was enlightening. It made me realize that while I hate Odin for lying to me, he chose to raise me despite everything he may or may not have known about my lineage. While he was far from a good father to any of us — I suspect he was better than Leviathan could've been.” 

Loki hummed, leaning towards his sister. “You could always kill your father like I killed mine.” He suggested. 

Venus snorted, shaking her head. “And take over as the new sin of envy? Please. I'd much rather take Fandral as my husband, and even then, I'd be skeptical. I've seen the men and women he's bedded in the past. . .” She shivered. 

“Besides, I don't fancy a war that would undoubtedly be waged upon me if I killed him.” Venus sighed. 

“Ignore his existence. That's what I do with my sperm donor.” Clint spoke up, placing his third match on the table before him. 

The topic of fathers was often a conversation that was brought up amongst the members of the team. Very few had good fathers and even fewer had living ones. 

“Ignoring him could work. . . But you could also give him time to get used to being a father. He missed most of your life, after all.” Wanda interjected. 

“And he will be missing more until he can communicate like an adult and not conform to his sin, purely because he can.” Venus declared, directing her attention at Thor. 

“You've been uncharacteristically quiet, Thor. . . Do you perhaps have a blue three in that deck of yours?” 

He shuffled through the small deck in his hands. “Ah, go fish, sister.” 

Sometime later, Natasha entered the kitchen with grocery bags in hand, Sam following behind her with more. 

The game continued on while they began cooking, and eventually, more people were dealt into the game. 

Venus, by some power, won just in time for Natasha to announce that food would be ready within the next five minutes. She had the most sets, with Clint being a close second behind her, and Wanda taking third. 

Loki took it upon himself to clean up the mess of cards on the table, while everyone else who played went to wash up and prepare for the meal ahead. 

Then silence ensued as an unfamiliar tension swept through the dining room which had been majorly upgraded to fit all of the inhabitants that gathered around the table. 

Like before, Venus took up residence at one end of the table. Rather than Sir Pentious being to her right, it was Peter. . . However, unlike last time, Alastor was at the table, yet he was sitting as far away from the recently reunited Morningstar family as possible. And who better to sit between than Niffty and the Princess of Asgard? 

With Alastor to her left and Peter to her right, she had other people to focus on aside from the man directly down the long table from her, especially with Natasha just on the other side of Peter, and Thor just on the other side of Niffty. 

Yet she could feel Lucifer's eyes on her as she engaged in conversation with Alastor about life on Asgard — he had been curious, and after the battle, she trusted him enough to tell him some of her childhood memories. Not many of them, but some.

They hadn't conversed much at all since the day he brought Venus to the hotel, dropping her off in front of Charlie like a dead mouse on a pillow, yet they found their quiet conversation to be quite interesting.

It eventually died out, removing the faint murmurs from the room. Only the sound of cutlery on ceramic could be heard within the confines of the large room — and it drove almost everyone crazy.

Who would address the elephant in the room?
Something happened and they wanted to know what. . . But as the meal came to a close and plates were gathered to be washed, the only words that came from anyone were praises for the delicious meal that Sam and Natasha had come together to cook.