New Faces
So...What does one wear to a dinner at the Avenger's Tower? You scoured your closet, trying on your fanciest cocktail dress to sweats and a T-shirt. Finally, you settled on jeans and a nice top with a cardigan. It was still the nicest thing you had worn in over a week. You looked in the mirror at the ghost staring back at you. Eyes sallow, muscle tone depleted, and overall aesthetic just depressing. You had clearly lost weight, but seeing the evidence was uncomfortable. The grey towel that hung over your shower was suitable enough. With a quick thumbtack, you pinned it over any and all mirrors in the apartment. The last thing you needed to worry about was vanity.
The silver elevator doors opened on the bottom floor of your complex. You inhaled, tensing at the upcoming meeting. "Don't forget to let it out." You turned to your right to see a strange dark haired man. He seemed harmless enough, so you lowered your chest with an exhale. "Thanks." You began to walk by him and he followed, grabbing the doors for you. You nodded, as a second 'Thank you' seemed awkward. Creepy dude. After hitting the wall of cold New York air during the fall, you turned right, prepared to walk your way to the Tower. Your car had been totalled during the Snap and the subways were down. There was literally no other option. "Uh, where are you going?" You tensed again, preparing for this man to try something. "Visiting a friend. They're expecting me." The man's laugh at your answer didn't calm your nerves. "I'm sorry, I should've introduced myself. Happy Hogan, I'll be your chauffeur this evening to the Tower." You gave a sigh of relief, mostly due to the fact that you didn't have to walk all the way to Manhattan. "Oh. Sorry Sir. I didn't know he'd sent transportation."
"No worries at all. Call me Happy." Were all of the Avengers so casual? "Um, okay, Happy. Sorry I thought you were just some creep."
"Completely my fault. I'm used to Ton--uh, Mr. Stark always informing his guests of my services. I guess Captain Rogers does things a bit differently."
"He does like his surprises." You mumbled under your breath. Happy walked to a shiny black Lincoln and opened the rear door for you. "Thanks...again."
He shut it and you noticed the privacy of the area. Well, privacy was probably the intention, but this feels more like isolation. The divider between you and Happy was all the way up and both rear windows were tinted to the point of suspicion. It was a quiet ride to the Compound. But still a shorter one than walking, so you were still grateful.
Happy dropped you off at the front and left to park the car. You had appreciated the lack of awkward small talk, but you could really have used a buddy to walk into the intimidating building with. You looked straight up the ninety-three stories and took in a cleansing breath. You could tell by the thickness of it that it was going to rain soon. So, I should probably go in... You thought it, and even willed your body to move, but your legs wouldn't cooperate. You closed your eyes and thought about turning back. This is a bad idea. They think I'm some secret cure to everything. What happens when they find out I'm not?
"It's a long walk back if you're planning to turn around." You snapped your eyes open, and were actually relieved to see Steve Rogers at the entrance. He also only wore jeans and a (very fitted) white V-neck shirt. Glad I went with casual. "Was I that obvious?" You blushed. He smiled, "Just a little. Figured you didn't want to walk into a room full of new faces alone." He extended his hand and you took it. The gesture wasn't romantic by any means, but the comfort it provided eased your mind. He led you to the elevator and you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding when the chrome doors closed. "No one's going to bite, I promise." You looked to Steve and pressed your lips together, forming somewhat of a smile. "It's not everyday you get a dinner invitation from the Avengers."
"Just think of us as new work friends."
"Sure, except when I piss off work friends, they usually can't rip my head off like a wine cork." He laughed again and looked down awkwardly. "So she does have a sense of humor."
"It's a coping mechanism."
"I'll take it either way. We're just about here. You ready?"
"Nope. But I'm doing it anyway." Steve once again grabbed your hand and squeezed it, a reassuring gesture. The doors parted and so did your lips as your jaw dropped. Spread around a sleek living room, you saw them all.
Thor.
Natasha Romanov.
Colonel James Rhodes.
And a raccoon. I thought he said no one was going to bite.