Caffeine Diplomacy
Two hours later, you were finally alone in your own room, not officially an Avenger –– Steve and Tony had been very clear on that –– but not a prisoner either. Except... your fingers subconsciously rubbed the new vibranium tracking bracelet on your wrist. Bruce had put it on only after you promised not to rip it off again. He also got you to agree to a series of tests to measure your strength once the last of your stitches had properly healed.
Thinking of Bruce had you headed to the mini fridge, where Nat had stashed several smoothies for you to drink while your throat continued to recover. You opened one, marveling at the room. You'd never had your own room before, not to mention your own king sized bed, mini fridge, and attached bathroom. You flicked on the large flatscreen TV, unsurprised when a menu popped up with more channels and streaming services than you knew existed. Already overwhelmed, you quickly turned it off. It reminded you of a hotel you'd stayed in on a job in Vegas except only nicer. Both Wanda and Nat promised to spend the next day helping you make it more homey, but you couldn't imagine what could possibly make it feel like you weren't trespassing.
"That went well. All things considered." Maria Hill stood in Natasha's doorway in a sweatshirt and matching shorts. Nat opened the door wordlessly and Maria entered, surprised to see Nat still hadn't showered or changed. "What's wrong?"
Maria sat on the edge of Nat's bed, watching as her best friend and former colleague moved about the room, folding shirts, picking up files, and doing everything she could to avoid answering Maria's question. So, Maria continued the one-sided conversation, knowing from years of experience that, as soon as she said something wrong, Nat would jump in to correct her. "You're worried this is just the beginning, aren't you? That getting Y/N to agree to stay here, under the Avenger's protection, is a double-edged sword. Sure, she's safe, but you know Dreykov and HYDRA will do anything to spite the Avengers. You're worried it'll make Dreykov even more determined to come after her."
Natasha still hadn't said anything, so Maria knew she was on the right track. "Nat," Maria started, trying a different strategy, one she knew would get results. "This isn't your fault. I guarantee if you ask Y/N whether or not she wishes you killed her as an infant she would say she's glad you failed your mission."
Nat finally turned to face Maria and it took everything the dark haired woman had to suppress a smirk. When it came to being the world's most famous assassin and spy, Natasha Romanoff had no equal. When it came to Maria Hill, Nat was an open book, a relationship that Maria both treasured and continued to be surprised by.
"I should've kept tabs on her. I should've dropped her somewhere else, made sure she got adopted by a good family. I should've at least checked up on her when I defected to SHIELD."
"Natasha," Maria's voice was stern but understanding. "Stop dwelling on the past. You were an honest to goodness kid. And let me guess, that was the first time you ever disobeyed one of the Red Room's orders?"
Nat nodded and sat next to Maria on the bed. Maria wrapped her arm around Nat and pulled her against her chest. Though they'd never crossed the line from friends into something more, it was an open secret that whenever Maria stayed the night at the compound, she always ended up in Nat's room. It just made sense, both rationalized. Apart from Barton, Maria was the first person Nat met after her defection, and it had been Maria who provided Nat with both the authority figure and support she knew the Russian so desperately needed. "Why don't you get ready for bed? You need to be well-rested to figure out how we're going to keep Dreykov at bay."
You did everything you could to fall asleep and yet, after tossing and turning for over an hour, you found yourself staring up at the too-perfect ceiling. You started to make a list of all the possible reasons you were still awake: your burning throat, the soft mattress, finding out Natasha killed your mom, the after effects of the super soldier serum. But no matter how many possibilities you came up with, you knew there was only one reason you were still awake. For all the bad things you'd done in your life, you'd never suffered from nightmares until now. At first, you thought it was a fever dream, brought on by the serum or the pain meds, or whatever kind of state-of-the-art drug cocktails the Avengers put in their IVs. But then it kept happening, the same dream, over and over.
You were back in the secluded lab with Seb and Louis. Except this time, you weren't held up fighting Nat, and volunteered to run up ahead to make sure the coast was clear. And every time you doubled back, you found them dead, lying in the same frozen pose, their bodies cocooned by Wanda's glowing red magic. Maybe, you stupidly thought every time, they weren't really dead, just asleep. Locked in a magic coffin like Snow White. You attacked the magic shield with everything you had. Fists, feet; you'd even given it a head butt once or twice just to exhaust all options. But nothing could pierce it. In fact, it didn't react at all. No flicker, no pulse, just a steady, ominous glow keeping you from the two people you failed to protect.
You sat up in bed with a start, sweat beading at your hairline. "Lights," you managed to croak out, briefly noticing that, though still sore, your throat already felt significantly better.
Whatever computer lived in the ceiling heard your command, just like Nat demonstrated, and the lights in the room turned on at half-illumination. You looked down at your hands. Each fist was tightly balled around the bedsheet. Or, at least what used to be the bedsheet until you ripped it to shreds in your sleep. Mortified, you quickly stood, grabbing what was left of the sheet and shoving it into the back of the closet, behind the extra blankets and pillows. It wasn't the best hiding spot, but it would do for now.
You checked the clock. It was only a little after three. There was no way you were going back to sleep but you also doubted anyone else was awake. The large room suddenly felt claustrophobic and you knew you needed fresh air. You grabbed a sweatshirt but hesitated at the door. You were allowed to leave, right? No one had told you not to, but you also didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea; thinking you were sneaking off again. Especially Wanda.
The thought made you freeze. Why did you care what she thought? Wasn't it her deadly magic you were just fighting against in your dream? You shook off your worry and opened the door, stepping into the hallway. You were relieved to find it dark and empty, tiptoeing past the other rooms and into the lounge at the end of the hall.
"Hey, Y/N." You looked up, surprised to find Wanda in the kitchen, a half-dozen floating red orbs casting a mellow light on an island littered with baking supplies.
"Why didn't I hear you?" you asked in amazement.
Wanda smirked. "I'm glad your voice is doing better. It's a noise suppression spell. It keeps me from waking up the rest of the team when I want to do some late night baking."
You walked closer, intrigued. "You do this a lot?"
Wanda consulted a hand-written recipe card. "Whenever I can't sleep. So more than I'd like."
"What are you making?" Cooking had always fascinated you. Though you had been the only girl under Kilroy's care, meal prep had largely fallen to Louis. The only appliance you felt truly comfortable with was the microwave.
Wanda measured sugar into a bowl. "Cinnamon rolls. It's Laura's recipe." She caught the confused look on your face then quickly added, "That's Clint's wife. You want to help?"
You stared at your hands, remembering the shredded sheet you'd hidden in the closet only a few minutes earlier. "Maybe I'll just watch. I'd probably make a mess."
Wanda nodded and focused her attention back to her mixing bowl. You were grateful she didn't push you to help, and you happily watched her work, surprised by how comfortable the silence felt. You were so entranced as you watched Wanda roll out the dough that you failed to hear her next question.
"Y/N?"
Your head jerked up, meeting Wanda's amused gaze. "Did you fall asleep over there? Glad to know I'm such good company."
You rubbed your eyes and stretched your back. "Sorry, I just didn't sleep very well."
Wanda smiled sympathetically. "I figured. What was it? Was your throat hurting? Was the bed too soft?"
"Bad dream." You shrugged your shoulders, trying to give the impression that it was no big deal. Your eyes landed on the coffee maker, and you were pleasantly surprised to find it looked just like the ones you'd used in the prison mess hall. "Why don't I make some coffee?"
Wanda nodded as she slid the rolls into the oven. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the delicious aromas of brewing coffee and baking cinnamon rolls. You turned to Wanda as you helped her load the dishwasher. "Seems like you already have a cafe right here."
Wanda's wide smile was interrupted as her eyes traveled towards the elevators. "Director Fury." You turned as a tall, bald man strode confidently into the lounge, one eye covered by a black eye patch.
"Wanda." The man nodded in Wanda's direction as he eyed the pan of steaming cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven.
"Fury." Maria entered from the other direction, already dressed in a perfectly pressed suit, her hair pulled back in an equally perfect bun. "I wasn't expecting you so early." Maria glanced in your direction and Fury's gaze followed.
"You must be Y/N. Hill told me what happened. I'm glad to see you up and about."
"I made coffee." you stammered, earning raised eyebrows from the pair. "Would you like some?"
Fury reacted first, sitting on the same stool you'd perched on as Wanda baked. "I don't have many rules, Miss Y/L/N, but one of them is never say no to coffee."
You poured a cup and set it in front of Fury before looking at Maria, who hovered nearby. "Maria?"
"Please," Maria said as she finally sat. You missed Fury's smirk at the use of his subordinate's first name as you poured Maria a cup, watching expectantly as they both took their first sips.
Just like before, it was Fury who spoke first. "Now that is a good cup of joe. Where'd you learn to make coffee like that? You ever work at a diner?"
"Prison," you said matter-of-factly, assuming Fury had access to the same biographical information the Avengers did.
It earned you a chuckle from the mysterious man which set both Maria and Wanda on edge.
"Please tell me that sound isn't what I think it is." Nat asked as she strolled into the kitchen, hair still damp from the shower.
Fury raised his mug in your direction. "I like her."
"I made coffee," you said to Nat as she stepped behind the counter.
"Then I like you too," the Russian said as she filled her own mug. She turned back to the rest of the group. "Wands, these cinnamon rolls up for grabs?"
"Help yourself," Wanda said as she put the finishing touch on the frosting.
"I should come by for prisoner transfers more often," Fury remarked, cutting into a gooey roll.
"Prisoner transfer?" the question left your mouth before you had a chance to think.
Nat and Maria exchanged guilty looks. Fury eyed them both with mild annoyance before continuing. "I thought you'd already heard. We're taking Atticus Kilroy into official SHIELD custody. Intent to buy super soldier serum comes with a minimum five-year prison sentence. But I have a feeling we'll find a few more charges to tack on. Is that something you'd be interesting in helping us with, Y/N?"
For a man with one eye, Fury sure knew how to use it as he stared at you across the kitchen. You guessed it made sense that Kilroy wouldn't remain in the Avenger's basement forever, but you'd been a bit preoccupied to think about what would happen next to the man who, criminal proclivities aside, was the closest thing you had to a father.
"Can I think about it?" you asked, already bracing for Fury's rebuttal. But to your surprise, he simply sipped his coffee and nodded. "Of course. Take your time."
"Would you like to see him?" Maria asked, setting her empty mug in the sink.
It was another unexpected question, and you found yourself staring at Maria with wide eyes. You replayed your last interaction with Kilroy and how it had ended with you storming out of the compound, your fingers unconsciously rubbing your new vibranium tracker.
"No. I'd rather not."
Maria nodded, leading Fury and Nat to the elevators. You watched from the lounge window as Cap and Clint escorted a handcuffed Kilroy into Fury's waiting black SUV.
"Do you have a favorite color?"
You turned, surprised to see Wanda standing next to you. She held out a book of paint swatches. "I thought we could spend the afternoon painting your room."
Your room. You couldn't help the feeling of warmth that spread through your limbs as you watched the SUV drive away. It was silly, you knew, given everything that'd happened and everything you'd learned. If Nat was right, you were in far more danger than Kilroy ever exposed you too. Yet, for the first time since you crossed paths with the Avengers, you finally felt on the verge of a new beginning. One that was entirely your own.