I Woke Up in the Marvel Universe, But All the Heroes Are Women?-Chapter 45: Gun Devil

Shane weighs practically nothing on my lap, his breathing soft and even as my fingers thread through his hair. I've dressed us both, finding a fresh shirt for him after that insane training session. The symbiote hums contentedly beneath my skin, satisfied in a way I've never felt before. We're both still riding the afterglow of whatever the hell just happened.
Masters sits across from us, her military posture unchanged despite witnessing what must have been the most intense sexual encounter she's ever seen through that little camera. Her pen scratches against her notebook as she records her observations with clinical detachment.
"So when he pushed you," Masters says, not looking up from her notes, "what did that feel like?"
I consider the question, remembering the moment Shane snapped. The raw power that had surged through his normally gentle hands was surprising but not dangerous for me.
"It was around as strong as Spider-Woman," I admit reluctantly, hating to compare my precious boyfriend to that web-slinging bitch. "Maybe even a little stronger for that one moment."
Masters nods, writing this down with apparent satisfaction. "Hmm. I wonder if that can be trained too, like a muscle."
My fingers continue their gentle exploration of Shane's scalp, brushing through his soft hair as he sleeps peacefully in my lap. The symbiote extends a tiny tendril to caress his cheek, our shared affection for him impossible to contain.
"He's been able to train his teleporting, so maybe," I say, studying his peaceful face. Even unconscious, he looks absolutely perfect to me. "The more he uses it, the better he gets."
Masters taps her pen against her chin, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "How did he even get these powers?"
The question catches me off guard. The symbiote stirs beneath my skin, suddenly alert. We've never really discussed the origin of Shane's abilities, taking them for granted as just another part of what makes him uniquely ours.
"I don't know..." I trail off, realizing how strange it is that I've never asked.
"Is he a mutant?" Masters presses, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.
"No," I say with certainty. My other has confirmed it.
"Did he get them from his parents?" She continues her interrogation, eyes never leaving mine.
"He hardly mentions his parents," I say defensively, suddenly uncomfortable with this line of questioning. The symbiote coils protectively around Shane's wrist, though I doubt Masters can see it from where she sits.
"I did a background search on Shane," Masters says, her tone shifting to something more serious. "They died when he was young."
"Yeah, he mentioned that but nothing else," I say, stroking Shane's hair as he continues to sleep peacefully in my lap.
Masters nods thoughtfully. "Hmm."
She taps her pen against her notebook a few times, then looks at me.
"I was thinking," she says, leaning forward slightly, "what about guns?"
"Huh?" I blink at the abrupt change in subject.
"A teleporter with guns," she continues, her eyes lighting up with tactical enthusiasm. "That would be awesome. Think about it. Shooting and quick getaways. He'd be perfect for sniping. Hell, give him a sawed-off shotgun, he teleports up close to someone, blasts them, and poof, he's gone. Pistols and machine guns would be great too."
The symbiote pulses with sudden interest beneath my skin, clearly intrigued by the violent potential. I, however, feel my protective instincts flare up.
"He doesn't want to kill people," I say firmly.
Masters shrugs, undeterred. "Well, he could use rubber bullets or tranq darts. There are tons of non-lethal options out there."
I consider this for a moment. The idea of Shane armed and dangerous is strangely appealing, though I'd never admit it aloud. Still, practicality wins out.
"It sounds pricey," I point out.
"I know a woman," Masters replies with a casual wave of her hand. "The Tinkerer. Though she only works with villains..." She trails off, then brightens. "Maybe if he got some friends in SHIELD. Hmm..." Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. "I'll look into it."
"I'll bring it up to him later," I say, glancing down at Shane's peaceful face. Even unconscious, he looks so innocent, the complete opposite of what Masters is suggesting. Yet part of me wonders if he'd actually love the idea. He's always talking about becoming a "real" hero.
The idea of Shane with weapons makes me frown. I can't help but sigh, looking down at his sleeping face as he curls against me.
"I wish he'd just drop this whole hero thing," I mutter, stroking his hair. "It would be so much easier."
Masters lets out a sharp laugh that makes me want to rip her throat out. "Are you kidding me? That boy?" She shakes her head, tucking her pen behind her ear. "He's too fucking crazy to let it go."
"I know.”
"You know what's weird though?" Masters leans back in her chair, studying us both. "He's not even afraid of you. Most people would be terrified if they saw what you really are."
She's right, and it makes my chest tighten with emotion I'm not used to feeling. The symbiote pulses beneath my skin, sharing my complex feelings.
"Imagine if he'd met Dr. Doom first instead of you," Masters muses, tapping her fingers on her notebook. "I wonder if he could have conquered her like he did you."
My eyes narrow dangerously, the symbiote flaring across my shoulders in jagged patterns. "Fuck off," I snarl.
Masters just laughs, clearly unafraid of me. She stands up, tucking her notebook under her arm. "Well… I’m heading out. Catch you both next time." she says, already heading toward the door.
I don't bother to respond, just glare at her retreating back as the door clicks shut behind her. The symbiote settles against my skin, still humming with contentment from earlier despite my irritation.
"She's right about one thing," I whisper to Shane's sleeping form. "You really aren't afraid of us, are you?"
He shifts slightly in my lap but doesn't wake. I bend down and press a gentle kiss to his forehead, inhaling his scent. My perfect, fearless, idiotic boyfriend.
"We'll protect you," I promise softly, "even from yourself."