Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

I'm Not a Mind Reader (Jessica Jones/Trish Walker x reader)

The morning after a fight was always the worst. Sure, it helped that now you had a few other friends to help you out, but somehow, even with the Defenders having your back, it only made the aches and pains of the next day worse. More often than not, you found yourself on Trish's couch, not because she was nearby or because her couch was any nicer than your own bed, but because you just liked to be around her. More than that, you liked her. A lot. So much so that you were terrified to tell her, so you used Jessica for the lie that her liquor cabinet was far better than your own and that she always had the right thing to satiate your pain.

"You look like crap, (Y/N)," she greeted you, stumbling from her bedroom, hair messy from sleep and her slippers falling from her feet with each step. "I'm sure I'm not much better, but you really look terrible."

"Good morning to you, too. Could you do me a favor?" you asked softly, pressing a hand to your eyes as she opened the curtains. "Could you maybe turn down the sun?"

"Hungover or ass kicked?"

"We did not get our asses kicked," Jessica groaned. She had found herself in one of the corners of the living room, an empty bottle at her side and a threadbare blanket as her cover from the inevitable day. "We did the kicking, thank you very much."

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't believe that you didn't take a little bit of a beating," Trish chuckled, making her way to the kitchen. The banging of dishes and pans left both you and Jessica grumbling and cursing her under your breath, but it didn't seem to slow her down at all. "Am I cooking?"

"Only if that means opening a new bottle," Jess answered, curling up deeper into her blanket.

The sounds weren't slowing at all, and you decided that you had to force yourself up and off the couch eventually. One foot touched the floor first, followed agonizingly slowly by the other, but you still couldn't bring yourself to push your body all the way up. "I don't wanna. Triiiiiish..." you whined, "help me."

"No."

"Come onnnnn, pleeease?"

Jessica pushed herself up to sitting, throwing her blanket back in a huff and an angry hiss, though not angry enough to open her eyes just yet. "Oh my god, (Y/N), don't be so goddamn whiney. Just stand your ass up and have a little pride."

"Says the woman who hasn't changed her outfit in a week," you scoffed. When Trish gave in and made her way back to you, she held out her hands for you to take, pulling you up with a little more effort than she should have needed. When you cringed under your breath at the pain in your side from the motion, her expression changed to worry and she yanked up the edge of your shirt.

"Let me see."

"I'm fine," you argued, pulling it back down.

"I said, let me see." She continued her stern look until you finally allowed her to get her way, rolling your eyes at her and at the sounds she was making when she saw the large bruise that covered your ribs and around to your back. "Jesus, (Y/N), you need to get this checked!"

"I did," you shrugged, taking your shirt from her hands, "Claire already cleared me, so you can stop worrying."

"Shut up, you love it when she worries about you, just admit it."

Your hand was still over Trish's when Jessica blurted out the words that froze you in place, terrified that she had just given away the secret that you had decided to never let out. Trish was staring at your face now, forgetting all about your injury, and you were desperate to get her to stop. "Don't be such a bitch, Jess. At least someone does."

Her eyes finally shot open with a start, looking at you like you had just slapped her across the face, totally awake and brought to her senses by the insult that she didn't care. Your mind screamed at you, her voice filling your senses even though you promised never to use your telepathy on her. You weren't doing it purposefully, just as you didn't mean to ever let her know that you could do it in the first place. "Jess...you...you do worry about me," you whispered, "why didn't you ever say anything? We've fought together for a long time and never once-"

"Stop talking. Were you just in my head?" she asked, standing and shaking her head with confusion. "(Y/N), what the hell was that? I heard your voice inside my head. Like, over my own thoughts. Are you...holy shit, you're a telepath, aren't you? You are! How could you keep that from me?"

"(Y/N)?" Trish joined in, still staring.

You looked from her and then to Jess several times, your mouth open as if you could utter a single syllable, but your voice was crushed under the weight of not having an answer that would satisfy either of them. Instead, the three of you stood silently, staring at each other in a round of expressions that shifted with each tilt of a head. The common denominator in the answers that they wanted was you, but you had nothing to offer. You had never been anything other than safe and at home in the presence of these two, but right now all you felt was terror and the desperate urge to run, and they quickly picked up on it.

"(Y/N)," Jessica began again, this time much softer and almost out of character, "it's okay to tell me. I know that you think I'll bail because of all of that Kilgrave bullshit, but I won't. I promise. I actually like you."

"And whatever it is that you want to tell me...or even if you don't," Trish agreed readily, "it's fine. I won't push, even if you never say anything."

They were both looking at you with faint smiles now, waiting patiently while you gathered your thoughts, but as it would turn out, you didn't have many to wade through. The truth was out, so there wasn't much else to say; it left you with only your inappropriately timed humor to break the silence. "Okay, Trish, truth is..." you sighed heavily, dropping your gaze to the floor, "we don't come here for your cooking. Because...you can't. I'm really sorry."

"Oh man, thank you! Someone had to say it," Jess agreed emphatically. "She's not a mind reader, (Y/N)."