In the MCU with the Omnitrix/Ultimatrix

"We need to talk," Emma announces, entering my office with her usual grace, though something feels different in her mental presence.

I look up from the reports I'm reviewing - mostly analysis of Fury's recent visit. "Everything okay?"

She takes her usual seat, but her posture is less relaxed than normal. "I've been... considering something."

"That sounds ominous."

"Don't be dramatic," she rolls her eyes, but I catch a flicker of nervousness through our link. "I was thinking we should have dinner."

"We have dinner all the time," I reply, though something in her tone makes me pay closer attention.

"Not with the team. Not in Fisk Tower." She meets my gaze directly. "Just us. At that new French restaurant downtown."

Oh.

"Emma Frost," I can't help but smile, "are you asking me out on a date?"

"Well, someone had to," she states, though I catch a hint of pink in her cheeks. "You've been remarkably oblivious to the signals I've been sending."

A knock at the door interrupts us - Stark, with his impeccable timing as always.

"Am I interrupting something?" Stark grins, taking in our expressions. "Because I can come back when there's less romantic tension in the air."

"What do you want, Tony?" I ask, while Emma maintains her perfect composure.

"Just some data from the latest training sessions, but this is way more interesting." He leans against the doorframe. "Finally making a move, Frost?"

"Unlike some people, I don't need an AI to manage my personal life," Emma replies smoothly, standing. "Eight o'clock, Samael. Don't be late."

She leaves with her characteristic grace, though our mental link carries a mix of amusement and anticipation.

"So," Stark drops into the now-vacant chair, "you and the Ice Queen, huh?"

"Don't you have something to blow up in your lab?"

"Probably. But watching you try not to blush is much more entertaining."

My phone buzzes - the group chat lighting up:

Thor: "YOUNG SHIFT HAS TRULY FOUND A QUEEN! I WAS NOT WRONG LAST TIME! THIS CALLS FOR CELEBRATION! 🌩️"

Loki: "Brother, their personal lives are not your entertainment."

Stark: "Too late, already ordered champagne."

"How did they-" I start, staring at my phone.

"Oh, that?" Tony's grin gets impossibly wider. "I might have sent a heads up to Point Break and his brother before coming here.

See, JARVIS noticed Emma making reservations at Le Bernardin - very nice choice, by the way - and well, it wasn't hard to figure out what was coming."

"You knew she was going to ask me out?"

"Please," he waves dismissively, "she's been planning this for days. The restaurant called my office for verification since it's usually booked months in advance. Something about a last-minute VIP reservation?"

I groan. "So you've just been waiting to make this as dramatic as possible."

"Me? Dramatic?" He puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'm hurt. Also, yes, absolutely."

My phone continues buzzing:

Thor: "WE MUST FEAST IN THEIR HONOR! 🍖"

Loki: "Brother, they haven't even had their first date yet."

Stark: "Too late, already planning the engagement party."

"I hate all of you," I mutter, but can't help smiling.

"No you don't," Tony stands, heading for the door. "By the way, wear the blue suit. Trust me on this one."

"Blue?" I call after him. "With red eyes and white hair? What's wrong with your fashion sense?"

"Trust the billionaire playboy on this one, kid," he turns back with that insufferable grin. "Navy blue, silver accents. It'll work. Besides," he taps his phone, "Emma's already got Pepper helping with her outfit choice."

"She what-"

"Oh yeah, they've been texting for hours. Something about making sure you," he makes air quotes, "'don't completely mess this up with your complete lack of fashion sense.'"

My phone buzzes again - this time it's Emma:

"Stop questioning the blue suit. And yes, I can feel your fashion anxiety from three floors down."

"I don't have fashion anxiety..." I mutter under my breath.

I glance at Tony. "How long has everyone been planning this?"

"Planning? No, no," he backs toward the door, still grinning. "We're just... facilitating. Though you might want to check your closet. Pepper may have had some things delivered."

"Tony..."

"Got to go! Important science stuff to do!" He disappears, leaving me with the distinct impression that I've somehow lost control of this entire situation.

Through our mental link, Emma's amusement is crystal clear: 'You really thought I'd leave your outfit choice to chance?'

I head to my suite, only to find Pepper herself waiting with what looks like an entire boutique's worth of options laid out.

"Don't even start," she warns as I open my mouth to protest. "Emma's right - you need help with this."

"I'm perfectly capable of-"

"You wore a black tie with a brown suit last week," she cuts me off, sorting through the selections. "You lost all fashion credibility right there."

"What's wrong with darker colors going with my bright hair-"

My phone buzzes continuously:

Stark: "Let Pepper work her magic. Trust me on this."

Thor: "THE LADY PEPPER HAS EXCELLENT TASTE IN MIDGARDIAN ATTIRE! 🌟"

Loki: "For once, my brother speaks sense."

Banner: "Just go with it. Fighting is pointless. Trust me."

Emma's mental presence carries both amusement and affection: "Consider this your first lesson in letting others help you for a change."

"Fine," I surrender to the inevitable. "But I draw the line at-"

"You'll draw lines nowhere," Pepper states firmly, holding up the navy suit Tony mentioned. "Now, let's make sure you don't embarrass yourself or Emma tonight."

Two hours later, I have to admit they were right about the blue suit. The cut and color work surprisingly well, even with my unusual features.

"See?" Pepper adjusts my collar with practiced efficiency. "This is why you listen to people who know what they're doing."

My phone hasn't stopped buzzing:

Stark: "Looking sharp, kid. You're welcome."

Banner: "Good luck. Try not to level any buildings."

Thor: "MAY YOUR EVENING BE BLESSED WITH JOY! 🌩️"

Loki: "I've enchanted your reservation to ensure privacy. Consider it a favor."

"Everyone needs to stop helping," I mutter, though Emma's mental presence suggests she finds the whole situation entertaining.

"Mr. Fisk requests your presence before you leave," JARVIS announces through the room's speakers.

Great. Because this evening needed more complexity.

"He's in his office," Pepper says, making one final adjustment. "Don't keep him waiting. And don't mess up the suit."

As I head for the elevator, I can't help but wonder what fatherly advice Wilson Fisk might have about dating a telepath.

This should be interesting.

Fisk's office is dimly lit when I enter, his massive frame silhouetted against the city lights.

"I understand congratulations are in order," he says without turning. "Though perhaps premature, given it's only a first date."

"You knew too?"

"I know everything that happens in my tower." He turns, studying my appearance. "The suit is... appropriate. Though we should discuss certain... expectations."

"If this is going to be a shovel talk-"

"Please," he waves dismissively. "Miss Frost is more than capable of defending herself. Besides, if it was truly so, then I would be having this conversation with her, as you are my son.

No, this is about public perception. The media will be... interested in this development."

"When aren't they?"

"Indeed." He moves to his desk, pulling up several displays. "I've arranged for discrete security at the restaurant. The press has been given certain... suggestions about maintaining distance."

"You're taking this very seriously."

"You're my son," he states again, simply. "And Miss Frost is a valuable ally. Your happiness, and privacy, are worth protecting."

Coming from Fisk, that's practically a blessing.

My phone buzzes again - Emma this time:

"Stop worrying about what your father thinks and come downstairs. We have reservations to keep."

The elevator opens to the private lobby, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. Emma stands there in a stunning white dress that makes her look even more regal than usual.

"You clean up well," she notes with a slight smile, her mental presence warm with appreciation. "I suppose I should thank Pepper."

"You look..." I search for words that won't sound completely inadequate.

"I know," she replies simply, a hint of that familiar confidence in her voice. "Shall we? Before your fan club decides to arrange a parade in our honor?"

As if on cue, my phone buzzes:

Stark: "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Which leaves plenty of options."

Emma rolls her eyes. "I've blocked them all from your phone for the evening. We deserve one night without the peanut gallery."

The car waiting outside is one of Fisk's - discrete but armored. As we slide in, I catch glimpses of security personnel melting into shadows. Apparently, everyone's determined to make this evening perfect.

"Stop analyzing everything," Emma's voice carries fond exasperation. "For once, just let things happen."

She's right, of course. She usually is.

Time to see what happens when New York's newest heroes try something as normal as a first date.

Though with our luck, something explosive will probably interrupt dinner.

The city lights blur past the car windows as we head downtown. A comfortable silence settles between us until curiosity gets the better of me.

"So, what brought this on?" I ask, then immediately notice her mental presence shift.

Emma's expression darkens slightly. "You really want to know?"

"I- oh." Understanding hits. "That reporter last week?"

"You mean the one who was practically throwing herself at you?" Her voice carries carefully controlled irritation. "The one who's almost thirty?"

"Emma Frost," I can't help but grin, "were you jealous?"

"Please," she scoffs, but her mental presence betrays her. "I simply found it ridiculous. They call our age difference 'problematic' when there are women twice your age openly flirting during interviews."

"The Channel 5 reporter was not-"

"She touched your arm seven times in three minutes," Emma cuts in. "I counted. And her thoughts were... inappropriate."

"You read her mind during the interview?"

"Of course I did." She turns to face me fully. "And after listening to endless social media debates about whether I'm 'grooming' you, watching some desperate journalist mentally undressing you during a live interview was the last straw."

"So you decided to...?"

"Take what's mine," she states with that regal confidence I've come to admire. Then catches herself. "That is, if you want to be."

It's rare to see Emma uncertain about anything. It's... endearing.

"I thought you could read minds," I tease gently.

"Some thoughts," she replies, her composure returning, "are worth hearing out loud."

Le Bernardin's private entrance opens discreetly for us - Loki's enchantment subtly redirecting attention away from our arrival.

The maître d' leads us to a secluded table with a perfect view of both the city lights and all possible exits - Emma's strategic mind clearly influenced the selection.

"You've been planning this for a while," I observe as we're seated.

"A lady never reveals all her secrets," she replies, but her mental presence carries satisfaction. "Though I will say coordinating Stark, Pepper, and your father without any of them taking credit was... challenging."

"And here I thought I was being observant lately."

"Darling," she says, the endearment slipping out naturally, "you once missed an entire bank robbery because you were too focused on debugging Stark's suit calculations in human form. Something about proving your own superior intelligence without Graymatter."

"That was one time-"

"The point is," she continues, her eyes sparkling with amusement, "sometimes you need someone to point out the obvious."

"So," I say after we order, "how long has Pepper been your fashion consultant?"

"Since the day she watched you try to match plaid with stripes," Emma replies smoothly. "She was quite insistent about intervening before, as she put it, 'fashion crime becomes your supervillain origin story.'"

"I'm not that bad-"

"The purple tie incident."

"That was-"

"With the orange shirt."

"Okay, point taken." I concede, enjoying the way her eyes light up when she teases me. "And the coordination with my father?."

"Wilson has... surprising taste in restaurants." She sips her wine elegantly. "And a vested interest in making sure his son's first public date goes smoothly."

Through our mental link, I catch fragments of earlier conversations - Fisk and Emma discussing security, media management, even the exact table placement. They've thought of everything.

"You know," I lean forward slightly, "for someone who can read minds, you took a surprisingly roundabout way to get here."

"Some things," she meets my gaze, "are worth doing properly. Besides," her mental presence carries a hint of mischief, "watching you be completely oblivious was rather entertaining."

The waiter returns with our first course, and I catch Emma subtly scanning the room - old habits die hard.

"No threats," she assures me. "Though Stark has been texting Pepper updates every five minutes."

"I thought you blocked them?"

"I blocked them from your phone. Someone needs to keep track of our... enthusiastic support system."

Our conversation flows naturally between topics - from team dynamics to future plans, interspersed with comfortable silences that only telepathic links can provide.

It's different from our usual interactions, more personal despite the formal setting.

"You know," Emma says during dessert, "there's a betting pool at the tower about us."

"Of course there is. Let me guess - Stark started it?"

"Actually," her lips curve into a slight smile, "it was Banner. Apparently, the Other Guy has been quite invested in our, quote, 'SHIFT LOVE OBVIOUS QUEEN.'"

I nearly choke on my coffee. "The Hulk was betting on our love life?"

"He's more perceptive than most give him credit for." Her mental presence carries amusement. "Though Thor's contributions to the pool were... creative. Something about Asgardian courtship rituals involving dragons."

"Please tell me you're joking."

"About the dragons? Yes. About the betting pool?" She raises an eyebrow. "Loki's currently winning."

Outside, the city lights shimmer against the darkening sky. Through the window's reflection, I catch glimpses of Fisk's security detail maintaining their discrete positions.

"So," I say carefully, "was this worth all the planning?"

Her mental presence softens, showing a vulnerability she rarely displays. "I'd say so. Though the evening's not over yet."

A subtle alert from Emma's mental scan interrupts the moment. "Paparazzi," she notes calmly. "Three of them trying to get past Loki's enchantment."

"Should we be concerned?"

"Please," she smirks. "I may have... suggested they suddenly remember urgent appointments elsewhere."

The way she says it makes me laugh. "You know, most people would find that ethically questionable."

"Most people haven't dealt with tabloid headlines questioning their every interaction." Her expression turns slightly serious. "Speaking of which, we should discuss how we want to handle the public aspect of... this."

She gestures between us, and through our link, I catch her underlying concern - not about the media itself, but about how their inevitable reaction might affect us.

"Well," I consider, "we could always let Stark handle the PR. He's been dying to-"

"Absolutely not," she cuts in. "The last thing we need is Tony Stark managing our relationship announcements. He'd probably skywrite it over Manhattan."

"Fair point. Though..." I pause, noting how naturally the word 'relationship' fit into our conversation. "Are we making announcements?"

Her mental presence carries both warmth and determination. "I think we're past pretending this is just a single date, don't you?"

"The headlines will be interesting," I muse. "'White Queen and Shift: Romance Blooms' or something equally dramatic."

"I'm more concerned about the less savory ones," Emma's tone carries an edge. "The age difference debates will resurface."

"You mean the ones calling you a cradle robber?" I reach for her hand across the table. "Pretty sure we've faced worse than tabloid drama."

Her mental presence warms at the contact. "True. Though it's different when it's personal." She pauses, then adds with characteristic sass, "Besides, they clearly haven't seen you handle board meetings. No sixteen-year-old manages corporate politics like that."

"Speaking of corporate politics," I gesture to a discrete security camera, "how long before my father issues a formal statement?"

"Bold of you to assume he hasn't already drafted several versions." Her smile turns knowing. "Though I may have... contributed to the final edit."

The restaurant has begun to empty, the late hour drawing our evening to a close. Through our link, I sense Emma's reluctance to end it.

"We could take a walk," I suggest. "The park's still open."

"In these heels?" She raises an eyebrow, but her mental presence brightens. "Though I suppose a short detour wouldn't hurt."

As we stand to leave, her hand finds mine naturally, like we've been doing this for years instead of hours.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

Do tell me how you found it! So yeah, Emma and Sam are officially together and Emma will be Sam's only love interest. Hope you guys don't mind.

So yeah, do please comment and review if you haven't and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)