Chapter 141
I popped the flip-top on the Asgardian ale and brought it to my nose for a brief moment, inhaling the nutty aroma, before greedily putting it to my lips and starting a long chug. It felt a little indulgently wasteful—with something this good, part of me thought I really should be savouring every last drop—but, on top of what had been in the freezer, I’d seen a full crate of at least two dozen more of these tucked away in the back of Gilgamesh’s basement, not to mention everything else there. I could afford a little overindulgent wastefulness tonight, if I wanted.
Natasha chuckled. “Someone’s—”
With my free hand, I held up a finger to interrupt her, continuing to gulp down several large mouthfuls. After I’d drained three-quarters of the bottle in one, overlong draught, I leaned back against Bucky for support and gasped sharply, as if I were a diver breaching the surface, before breathing out again in a long sigh of contentment. “Oh, man…” I murmured.
“Good?” Nat asked simply, shooting me a wry look.
I nodded. “I really needed that.”
My eyes avoided the cracks in the marble countertop next to her. No one had said anything to me about it since Sam had helped me clean up after my outburst the other night, which I was intensely grateful for. The rest of the common room had also been cleaned up—the broken glass and other damage from the Eternals’ visit either cleared away or hidden behind panels of some sort of stretchy material that now covered the back wall of the common area where the windows had been.
Tilting my head to look at Bucky, I offered him the bottle, waving it vaguely over my shoulder, in front of his face. “Here. Try.”
Bucky obliged, taking it from me and having a small swig of the remaining precious liquid. His eyebrows lifted in approval and he nodded. “That’s really good.”
“Yep! Gimme,” I said, making a little grabby gesture with my hand until he relinquished my bottle again. “Get your own. I brought enough to share with you and Steve. They hit hard enough that your super soldier-ness isn’t gonna stop you from getting tipsy, if you want.”
“How did everything go?” Nat asked and I felt a brief instant of confusion, where I wasn’t sure what she was asking about, until I realised that she was talking to Bucky, not me.
“Good,” he said, giving her a small smile. “Thank you.”
I eyed the two of them suspiciously for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Yep. Bucky’s now officially your boyfriend-in-law.”
“Well, welcome to the team,” Nat told him, looking faintly amused. “The support group meets every second Wednesday.”
I puffed up my cheeks in mock anger and pouted at her. “You’re all so mean to me.” Straightening, my gaze went briefly over to where Pietro and Yelena were sitting on the couch, talking casually with Clint and Darcy.
When Bucky had said that ‘a few of us’ were going to meet for drinks, I’d assumed that hadn’t meant literally everyone, but that’s who had been here when I’d portalled our group in from Natasha’s apartment. Every Avenger and Avengers-adjacent person that had been here for the mess with the Eternals had turned up (plus Yelena, of course). Even Sterns was here, talking quietly with Bruce over by the edge of the open conference room, nursing a short glass of something amber-coloured.
The younger former Widow noticed my gaze, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she looked away again. She shifted in her seat, saying something in acknowledgement to whatever it was that Clint and Pietro were talking about. Her hand very casually ended up resting on Pietro’s inner thigh, just barely low enough that it wasn’t completely inappropriate for a public display. My brother continued to talk, oblivious.
“I actually think your sister might be a literal demon,” I said to Nat as I looked back at her. “She’s been engaged in a lot of classic literature demon behaviour lately.” Leaning into Bucky again, I wriggled my shoulder into his armpit so that he didn’t have a lot of choice in putting his arm around me. “You gotta protect me,” I told him. “Don’t let them gang up on me.”
As I pressed myself into his side, Steve and Sam walked up to the side of the breakfast bar. Sam stepped past the group, grinning and raising his chin in a silent greeting as he moved purposefully toward the fridge, but Steve lingered, his eyes flicked briefly over to Natasha, the two of them exchanging a wordless look.
He smiled, nodding toward Bucky and I. “So, I, uh, take it—”
“Actually,” I interrupted him quickly, seizing the opportunity that had presented itself, “I’m the one who’s been taking it.”
Steve blinked, caught off guard by the comment, while Nat let out a snort of amusement.
“But yes, it’s true. Bucky and I are now lovers,” I said dramatically, gesturing with one hand. “If this is shocking to you, then so be it.”
“Hang on a sec,” Sam said as he rejoined us, a pair of beers in his hands. He passed one to Steve. “Haven’t you two already been a thing for like… I wanna say a month or two, at least?”
I blinked. “What?”
“I mean, I’m pretty sure you two were already—”
“No,” I said crossly. “This is new. We haven’t even gotten to fifth base yet.” I glanced up at Bucky, who didn’t quite look mortified enough by my comment. Disappointing. “Although, if he plays his cards right tonight…”
“Fourth,” Steve said.
“What?”
“Fourth base,” he clarified. “There’s no such thing as fifth.”
“Oh,” I said softly. Untucking myself from under Bucky’s arm, I took a step forward, shaking my head slowly as I shot Steve the most exaggeratedly sympathetic look I could muster. “You poor, sheltered boy.”
With that, I turned and wandered away from the group, giving Bucky a sly wink as I moved past him to go annoy someone else for a little while. There were a few chuckles behind me as I stepped away.
“Honestly, man?” I heard Sam say behind me. “Good for ya’ll.”
--
Samuel Sterns leant back against the wall as he observed the complexities of the social tableau playing out in front of him.
He felt his grey matter pulsate slightly as interactions—conversations, subtle glances, body language—were evaluated, catalogued and added to his individual behavioural models of each of the participants, with relevant implications folded into the easily-predicted patterns of the social dynamics at play. It was relatively simple, compared to other such social webs he’d mapped. When it came down to it, most of these people liked each other, which made it easier, though there were still clear, specific pressure points that could be manipulated and exploited.
Sterns shook the thought from his head. He wasn’t in Camp Echo One anymore. He didn’t need to play these people against one another. Not necessarily, at least. Setting aside the suspicions that had been raised by Wanda Maximoff, the Avengers weren’t antagonistic toward him. They weren’t here to exploit him, or abuse him, or take advantage of his power. None of them were acting under orders to incapacitate him if he stopped doing exactly as he was told.
It was strangely comforting, too, seeing how he himself fit into the wider puzzle here. It had been years since he’d been in the position to be invited to a social gathering. He hadn’t been surprised by the offer from Stark and Dr Banner, of course—something that simple was easily predicted—but he’d still had to sit with it for a moment after accepting. These sorts of events had never been all that comfortable for him, of course, so he’d been more than content to let himself drift out of focus in favour of watching everyone else.
“I’m surprised,” Sterns said casually, not turning to look at the person who’d been surreptitiously circling around the room to approach his flank. “That you aren’t spending more of the evening with your new beau. Most people tend to maximise their time together during the honeymoon period of a new relationship.”
“Are you actually surprised?” Wanda Maximoff asked dubiously.
Several minutes ago, she’d noticed him doing his best impression of a wallflower and had spent the intervening time working her way around the room as she came to a decision on whether she should speak with him or not.
Sterns turned his head slightly, looking at her out of the corner of his good eye as he gave her a faint smile. “No,” he admitted.
“I like space in my relationships,” Wanda said with a small shrug. “These sorts of things are always a little stressful for me, even if I do enjoy them, so I like to step back a bit and do my own thing. We can annoy each other whenever we feel like it.”
Sterns responded only with a small nod, acknowledging the explanation. Though she said it flippantly, Wanda felt like she really did annoy the people around her—even those who cared for her the most. 98 per cent probability. She was trying to moderate people’s exposure to her, fearing that she might scare them away if she turned out to be ‘too much’ for them.
“I, on the other hand, am surprised you’re here.”
“Yes,” he responded wryly. “You made that rather clear when we first met.”
“I meant here,” she clarified, a mild note of annoyance creeping into her tone. “Now. I kind of expected you and Bruce to still be holed up in the lab.”
“I knew what you meant.” Sterns straightened, turning to look at her properly as he spoke. “But I also recognise that my presence has caused no small amount of consternation on your part.”
Wanda was silent for a moment, eyeing him carefully. “I don’t know what to make of you,” she admitted.
Sterns gave what he calculated was a disarming smile and tipped his glass—a single, small dram of whiskey he planned to nurse for the entire night—in her direction. “I can assure you, Ms Maximoff, that the feeling is entirely mutual and similarly discomfiting.”
Though she was clearly keeping specific details about how she had obtained her future knowledge hidden from the Avengers, Wanda Maximoff claimed to have experienced detailed ‘visions’ of an alternate timeline and future. Which meant that there were an unknowable number of unknown variables influencing her behaviour, which meant Sterns’s model of her would almost certainly never be reliable. Wanda would always be a point of chaos, introducing greater unpredictability into his wider models. It was rather vexing.
She let out a small huff of amusement, accepting the gesture and clinking the neck of her bottle against the rim of his glass before she had another sip of her drink. “Look,” she said hesitantly. “I’m sorry I freaked out a bit when you showed up.”
Even so, Sterns could still interpret the woman’s tone, her body language, and a million other little details. While there were still other factors at play, he could feel reasonably confident in his read on Wanda in a situation like this. The woman did still feel as though her reaction had been justified. Doubts lingered in her mind. This was, however, a genuine attempt at pushing past them.
“Apology accepted. It was a stressful situation.”
“Yeah. I keep… stuff keeps happening that I’m not expecting.” She paused, collecting her thoughts as she took another sip of her drink. “And if I can make the choice, I’d prefer to make new friends, rather than the alternative.”
“I quite agree, Ms Maximoff.” He offered his glass again. “To new friends, then?”
She nodded and clinked their drinks together again. “To new friends.”
Sterns also took a minute sip of his, this time, as Wanda knocked back the rest of her beer.
“Alright. Good talk, Buster Scruggs,” Wanda said, gesturing with the empty bottle. “I’m gonna get another one of these then go annoy my boyfriend and or girlfriend.”
“Enjoy the rest of the evening, Ms Maximoff,” he responded, watching her as she walked back toward the kitchen area.
‘Buster Scruggs’. A reference, though Sterns was unsure specifically to what. 88 per cent chance it was aimed at him, personally, rather than alluding to the content of their conversation. The way she’d looked at him as she’d said it—some visual link? Though not one intended to make light of his appearance. It wasn’t unusual for him not to be able to place more recent media references, of course, but he’d caught a couple of other times when Wanda had made a reference that no one else had gotten, either. He’d run a search on the name later, though the pulsing probability engine inside his skull was telling him there was a 76 per cent chance he would fail to locate any sort of relevant media.
Curiouser and curiouser.
--
I closed the fridge, the final bottle of precious Asgardian ale safely in hand. My head felt light, the alcohol spreading a pleasant warmth through my body. As I turned away, something made me hesitate, and I lingered at the back of the kitchen for a moment, looking back toward the rest of the common area.
As the evening had gone on, people had gravitated closer together, eventually clustering in one big group on and around the pair of lounges around the coffee table in the central space—Nat, Steve, and Bruce occupied one, with Bucky having joined Pietro and Yelena on the other. Clint was leaning heavily on the back of the couch just behind Nat, slouched over so he could talk to her. Tony was standing on the other side, gesturing excitedly with a hand as he spoke to Bruce and Steve. Sam, Darcy and Maria were perched on tall stools that had been moved over from the breakfast bar at some point. Shuri and Sterns had claimed the single-seater armchairs, the two of them less vocal but still engaged. Faint music was playing in the background, loud enough to fill the empty air between conversations but quiet enough to not interrupt or overwhelm.
There was a tight knot in my stomach. I focused on the scene, taking a mental screenshot. Memorising the lighting. The people. Their voices. The way this evening had felt.
I didn’t want to forget it.
This was… it was nice. It was so nice. But I knew it was temporary. I’d gotten so, so lucky with what had happened with Bruce, but that luck would run out, eventually. I’d almost lost against Eliza. Against the Eternals. And I was just counting down until the next time I messed things up again. Maybe irrevocably, this time.
“Aren’t you ruining it, just a little bit?” Eliza’s voice murmured in my ear. “Don’t overthink. Just enjoy it. Let yourself be here, with them.”
“It’s hard,” I said back to her, my voice barely above a whisper. It didn’t disturb the scene. No one looked over, wondering who I was talking to. “Sometimes it feels like… what’s even the point of letting myself be happy now, if I know I’m just going to be sad later?”
“You already know the answer to that,” Eliza responded wryly. “You don’t need me to make the Dr Who reference.”
Because I’m going to be sad later.
I glanced sideways, but she was already gone. Letting out a small sigh, I fumbled with the flip-top of the bottle for a moment, then took a small swig, trying to distract myself with the taste.
This moment wasn’t over yet. I needed to let myself enjoy it.
--
“Mm, no, I don’t think that’s it,” Tony said, shaking his head. He took a quick sip of his drink before continuing. “See, turning the spaceship into a cloud of cherry blossoms that blanketed the city was the most dramatic thing Wanda could have done in that situation, and if there’s one thing you can rely on Wanda for, it’s her instinctual drive to do the most dramatic thing possible at all times.”
Bruce nodded along, smiling faintly. “That does generally seem to form the core of her decision-making, yeah.”
“Oi!” I said crossly. “Tony Stark—of all people—is calling me dramatic, and you’re agreeing with him? I’m not that bad!”
Natasha was watching the exchange from the couch next to where I was standing, tucked in comfortably next to Steve. Stretching out a leg, she prodded me gently with the toe of her shoe. “Wanda, I love you very much, but yes you are.”
I let out a derisive huff. “Pfft. It worked, didn’t it? Tony’s just jealous. I mean, I’m the one that kept Druig out of everyone’s heads, I’m the one that took out the Domo…” I put a hand to the small of my back, feigning an exaggerated wince, and let a little bit of arrogant swagger leak into my tone. “My back’s starting to hurt from carrying this team and I’m not even on it.”
Tony shot me a flat look, then clicked his tongue. “Yeah, you know what? About that.” He glanced toward Steve, raising his eyebrows slightly in an unspoken question.
The other man shrugged, the almost-imperceptible ghost of a smile tweaking the corner of his mouth.
“See, the rest of us had a bit of a talk, earlier. I know the Charter isn’t formally signed off just yet, but…” he continued, tipping the glass of whiskey in his hand toward Steve. “Mr Rogers, I’d like to propose an emergency Avengers meeting to make a decision of great import, if I could ask you to act as Chair?”
“I’ll allow it, Mr Stark,” Steve responded, injecting faux seriousness in his voice.
Tony grinned as he turned back to me. “Again, the Charter isn’t signed off, so we technically don’t have an actual formal membership yet, so I’d like to propose that the only fair way to vote on this matter would be to open it to the floor—that is, to everyone present.”
“This is highly irregular, Mr Stark,” Natasha joined in from where she was sitting, her tone light and jokey.
“Well, Ms Romanoff, I’d say that’s entirely appropriate, given we’re talking about a highly irregular subject.”
Steve nodded. “I’ll allow it. You have the floor, Mr Stark.”
“The last six months have been… a bit of a ride. We’ve been through a lot together. Faced things, as a team, that the Avengers couldn’t have faced a year ago. Gotten new allies that we didn’t even know existed until now,” Tony said, slowly turning as he spoke, addressing the room at large. Everyone had settled down, now. All eyes were on him, letting him speak. “And I don’t think I’d be overstating things if I were to say that, at this point, a large part of why we’re even still here—and will be here, moving forward—are the actions of one person.”
Oh.
Now everyone was looking at me. My mouth had gone dry.
“So, I think it’d be a bit shitty—”
“Chair,” Natasha interrupted him, raising a hand. “I’d like to raise a point of order on Mr Stark’s use of improper language.”
There was some scattered laughter and Steve shot her a good-humoured yet exasperated look.
“I’ll withdraw the comment,” Tony said with a grin. “Point is, the only reason Wanda isn’t already a member of the Avengers was the need to cultivate a bit of separation for political purposes. Political purposes that, with the upcoming signing of the Avengers Charter and the quiet shuffling off of the Enhanced Anti-Terrorism Bill, no longer exist.”
There was a tight feeling in my chest, a set of conflicted emotions that I couldn’t quite disentangle. I took a sip of my drink to try to steady myself, shooting Natasha a helpless, round-eyed glance. She smiled back.
“Accordingly, I’d like to put forward a motion that Wanda Maximoff formally join the Avengers, effective immediately. She put in a lot of work getting us here and I’d like to recognise that by making sure hers is one of the founding signatures on the Charter.”
My face was hot. Tears were starting to well up in the corners of my eyes. I blinked, trying to clear the blurriness from my vision. This was… I wasn’t expecting this. After everything? And from Tony, of all people?
“Seconded,” Pietro piped in, then paused, looking mildly confused. “Wait, is that a thing? Do we second things?”
“You actually have an undeclared conflict of interest and should abstain from voting,” Clint told him, then shrugged. “But hell, Charter’s not signed, so it’s not like anyone can pull you up on it.”
“Hurry up. She’s going to cry,” Yelena pointed out. “She always cries.”
I flushed hotly, ducking my head in embarrassment.
“Alright,” Steve said, smiling as he put his hand up to get everyone’s attention. “Guess we just need to put it to a vote, then. In the matter of Wanda Maximoff formally joining the Avengers, can I hear from all those in favour?”
There was a resounding chorus of ‘ayes!’ and ‘yeahs!’, some people raising their drink in a toast as they answered. I was quiet. Almost paralysed.
“And those opposed?” he asked, a little unnecessarily. He waited a few seconds, letting the silence speak for itself, then stood up from the couch.
Everyone else watched quietly. Even the music that had been playing in the background all night had stopped at some point, though I hadn’t noticed exactly when.
“Well, I think the ayes have it,” he said. “But I didn’t catch Wanda’s vote, so I’m not sure what her position is.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded mutely. I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t trust myself not to break down in tears if I tried.
“Wow,” Tony commented lightly, eyebrows raised. “I think she’s actually speechless. Didn’t think I’d ever see that happen.”
“Well, I think we can probably still count that,” Steve said, giving me a small smile. “So… I guess that officially makes you an Avenger. Welcome to the team, Wanda.”