This is not the Endgame

"I want to fit in," Bucky said tersely. "Be anonymous." Wanda closed her mouth with a snap.

"So what's going on?" Sam asked, keeping an eye on the waitress. "She seems nice."

"She is," Bucky said briefly. "Smart, really competent."

"You should ask her out," Wanda said, knowing that Bucky wouldn't without a gentle nudge. Or a massive shove.

"She wouldn't go out with me. She's not dating. She wasn't a dust bunny, she lived through it all, she's got trauma."

"So does everybody, man," Sam said, leaning back. "You've got a lot of company." Despite his abrasive words, his tone was gentle. "Thank you," he said as the woman set his pint on the cocktail napkin in front of him. A glass mug, steaming gently, was placed in front of Wanda, then the pint of stout in front of Bucky. The other two also thanked the waitress, who smiled, patted Bucky's shoulder absently, and moved on to the next table.

"She's into you," Wanda said immediately. Bucky hissed at her, eyes darting toward his neighbor in panic, but it didn't look like she'd overheard. Wanda waited for her to move on again, then leaned over her part of the table. Sam leaned in too, interested, and Bucky felt he had to as well, so as not to be left out. "She's attracted to you," she said more quietly. "Thinks you're handsome and interesting. She's tired--no, she's weary, there's a thread of hopelessness, she's curious about things which is tempered by fatigue, and there's this sort of fuzzy spark when she sees you." Bucky, surprisingly, blushed. Sam smirked. "And that's all I'm going to look for." She sat back.

The men also leaned away from the table, and Bucky sipped his stout. Guinness imports from Ireland had ceased since the Snap although apparently there were plans to start up again now that the work force necessary for brewing and transportation were largely back. The hold-up was in the fields--the grains took time to grow--and the mechanisms of transportation--a lot of ships had sunk after the Snap and more had been decommissioned before the Unsnappening. But this locally brewed stout was pretty good. Wanda smiled as she sipped her coffee, and Sam looked pleased with his mass-produced beverage. Bucky shook his head.

"What?" Sam asked defensively. "At least it isn't Coors, that stuff's nasty. That stout's practically a meal, you almost have to chew it."

"I need the calories," Bucky said airily. "Metabolism means that I can eat anything." His lips curled up at the corners, and Sam rolled his eyes. Sam could not eat anything he wanted if he wanted to maintain the sculpted six-pack abs he was so proud of. Wanda asked them innocuous questions, and they were having a good conversation when the waitress showed up again.

"Another round?" she asked, replacing the peanut basket.

"Yes, please," Wanda said, and shortly the woman reappeared with fresh drinks, skillfully whisking away their empties. This time Wanda kept an eye out, and when she saw the waitress set her tray on the bar, take off her apron, and go down the corridor that led to the alley and the bathrooms, she took a quick peek into her mind, enough to see that she was headed outside into the chilly night air for her break. "I'll be back," Wanda told her companions, and made her way to the alley door. It was propped open very slightly with a rock.

"Sorry to startle you," she said to the waitress, who was sitting in a battered plastic chair, rotating her feet. "I just... wanted a quick chat with you."

"About what?" the woman said pleasantly.

"B- Jim, actually. I knew him before the Snap. I get the feeling that you might be interested." The mental tension that emanated from the woman matched the tight expression on her face. "I'm not here to warn you off or threaten you. It's just some information you need. If you are interested in him, you need to be patient. He was damaged before the Snap and he's had a bad shock since returning. You might want to do a little research," she said impulsively, feeling the other's mind fall into patterns, considering the problem, along with concern. "PTSD."

"He said he was a veteran, I think a combat veteran." Wanda nodded encouragingly.

"I won't tell you what happened, I don't know it all myself and it should come from him anyway. My name's Wanda, by the way." A test to see if she recognized the two Avengers she'd been serving.

"Ava. It's nice to meet you." The woman's tension was gone now that Wanda wasn't delivering bad news, and she genuinely meant what she said.

"I've got to get back," Wanda said.

"See you around." Wanda nodded.

"Most likely." She slipped back through the door.

Ten minutes later, Ava came back in, picked up her tray, and made her way through her section of the room. Bucky and Sam had another round, but Wanda switched to water.

"So where'd you go?" Sam asked Wanda when Bucky had excused himself.

"Alley. Told her that she'd need to be patient with him, a little girl talk."

"You think she'll hang in there?"

"There's a time constraint; the owner of the apartment building is raising rents until nobody can afford them anymore. But he's got about a year, if she stays put. That should be enough time. Her name's Ava. She's nice. Kind." Sam grinned.

But Bucky returned before he could say anything, and they finished up their drinks. "I think we're ready to close out our tab," Sam said the next time that Ava came by. She returned the card and receipt promptly, and Sam added a generous tip.

"See you," Bucky said to her, flipping some hair out of his eyes. Something had gone wrong there with his styling, he thought.

"It's bound to happen," Ava said with a smile and another pat on the shoulder. The trio got up, putting on their coats on the way to the door, and she efficiently cleared the table and wiped it before moving on.

"Ask her out," Sam said once they were outside. "She's pretty, she's nice, she's interested in you. You're a smart guy, make a plan and execute it." Wanda just kissed his cheek and the two of them went the opposite way to get a cab. Bucky faded into the night.

The next day, there was some very particular research being done by two residents of The Shithole. Ava looked up the basics on PTSD and mental illnesses commonly suffered by combat veterans.

Bucky researched fun, inexpensive dates. If she agreed to go out with him--and it felt like a pretty big if, despite what Wanda said--he didn't want to seem to be pressuring her into anything by taking her to do something expensive. Which was a lot of traditionally fun dating activities, these days. It was chilly now at the middle of October, and he wanted to do something fun and active.

He waited til midmorning the next day, then walked soundlessly down the hall to her apartment, pausing to listen. His enhanced hearing heard her moving around. It sounded like she was cleaning. He knocked.

He was surprised to feel a little thrill when her eyes lit up after she opened the door. "Come in," she said, and stepped back to let him in. She was wearing dark green flannel pants and a fleece top, her hair in a messy bun. She had sections of PVC pipe and elbow joints on the floor.

"What are you doing?" he asked, hoping that it wasn't too personal a question.

"We're supposed to have a colder than average winter this year," she said, and shivered. "There's like zero insulation in the walls, and I heard somewhere that hanging quilts on the wall helps. We can't do anything to the walls, so I'm making these frames that will fit between the ceiling and floor. And it will keep the quilts about two inches away from the walls, so that actually will provide some insulation. It's not the most effective thermal insulation, but it's better than nothing." He looked around and saw a pile of quilts stacked on the chair. She had one full wall to cover, plus the walls with the windows, and doors to the hall and her bathroom.

"Did you make these?" She smiled.

"No, I don't really know how to sew beyond fixing hems and reattaching buttons. Some of them were made by my dad's grandma--my sister didn't like them so they're all mine--and I bought the others at garage sales."

"Want a hand?" he asked absently, and when she accepted, helped her assemble the frames--giant free-standing rectangles--and drape the quilts over them, securing them with safety pins, before carefully fitting them into place. She'd measured precisely, and each frame was sized specifically for its place, just barely wedged into place to avoid putting too much pressure on the ancient plaster of the ceiling. He helped her pull the furniture out from the walls, then slid them back after the installation.

"It looks a little wild," she said ruefully, looking around. "But I like it." The heater kicked on at the low speed. "Ok, right now it's 63 degrees Fahrenheit. The heater is on the cycle that achieved this temperature, so now I'll wait and see what happens. Check the temperature each hour." Bucky smiled.

"Tapestries were used during the middle ages for the same purposes," he said. Ava's face was interested, and he blushed. "I like history. Science and technology, too."

"Very helpful," she said. "I like history too, but more on the modern end of the spectrum. What would your top three lessons from history be?" Bucky thought about this.

"Never invade Russia in the winter, although with climate change, this might not be as hard and fast a rule. Don't get into a land war in Southeast Asia, aaand... the past is never as far behind you as you think," he said. His tone turned serious at the last.

"Interesting." And she did look like she had something to think about. She asked if he'd have a seat, and quickly tidied things away from the construction project. "It's interesting. The quilts are also cutting down on sound transference." It did seem more hushed, but not in an old library way, where the librarians glared at you for noise transgressions, but peaceful, kind of cozy. She sat down at the other end of the sofa and passed him an afghan, curling up under one herself. He felt stiff and out of place.

"I came to ask if you'd go out with me. On a date." Internally, he winced. He used to be a lot smoother.

"And I put you to work instead. That was nice of me," she said, amused. "I'd like to do that."

"Really?" He was so surprised that he looked her directly in the eyes. He didn't miss the way that her pupils dilated and was slightly reassured. That kind of response to stimuli is irrepressible.

"Yes," she said, and she smiled broader.

"I'm interested in you," he blurted out (inside his brain, his old suave memories were cringing and shouting at him,) "But I don't really... I'm not sure it would be a good idea for you to be drawn into my mess."

"I don't suppose you'd like to flesh that out with a few more details?" she asked, leaning forward slightly. "Just what you feel comfortable talking about."

"I'm a veteran." She nodded. "I was a POW. And I was tortured." She flinched slightly but didn't otherwise react. "I feel like I'm in the wrong period of time, actually. I want a new life. I'm not sure how to do things. Or if I should. Or how to go about it." His voice was tight and a little higher than usual. "I don't really remember the last time I was with a woman."

He stopped, and she waited, apparently just to make sure he was done talking. "I'm sorry for the things that were done to you. I can't imagine what that's like."

"Good," he muttered, and she smiled briefly, then scooted a little closer.

"It kind of amazed me that even after the snap, we could still keep the military in the field in the Middle East, Afghanistan. But there aren't any rigid rules for dating, if it makes you feel better. I know what you mean about a new life. I want to move past what's happened, but I don't really know how to do it. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to be messed up for the rest of my life. I guess the way to proceed is just one action at a time." She licked her lips. "I have years of negative tests for STIs, just for your information. I don't know if we'll end up in bed together, but it's information you need to have."

He cleared his throat. "Uh, I only have results from one physical, when I was Unsnapped. I didn't have anything."

"So where are we going on our date? When is it, anyway?" she was back to looking peppy. It kind of gave him mental whiplash, but it put him back on firm ground.

"I thought it would be fun to go apple picking," he said. "There are orchards outside the city, and this year it's still peak season. We could go any time." He'd make sure his schedule was cleared any time she could get away.

"Next Saturday?" she asked. "I already asked for the night off. I can't take too much time off, but I'm doing ok and I wanted a huge indulgence. Take a break, have the night off my feet. So we wouldn't have to rush back."

"That sounds great," he said, and his smile had the echo of the confident grin that women used to swoon for.

"And I had a thought. About adult activities," she said. He was back to being nervous, trying not to sweat. This kind of thing was what intellectually he wanted, but in practice kind of terrified him. "So we don't need to stampede to bed, if that's something you'd be interested in eventually. We can just let things happen naturally, or..."

"Or?" He was curious. Cautious but curious.

"There's this game that teenagers play. It's called Seven Minutes in Heaven." She smiled slightly. "Kids select a partner and go into a closet together for seven minutes at a time. They can just wait out the time in silence, talk, or... do something else, then they don't talk about what happened. If you were interested, we could do our own version. Not in a closet, because we're grown ups. But maybe for seven minutes, we could just sit here and kiss. Just light kisses, no touching. Then another time, perhaps a little deeper kissing. Like that. Little steps." She bit her lip, the slight movement drawing Bucky's attention. And it sounded really appealing.

"Ok." She slid down the sofa toward him.

"If at any time you want to stop, just tell me. And I would do the same, and we'll stop immediately." He nodded. It took the pressure off. She checked her watch, turned on the cushion and sat in lotus position. He mirrored her, not sure what else to do, and she eased forward so that their knees were almost but not quite touching. He rested his wrists on his knees, and cautiously leaned forward. She leaned toward him in response, brushing his lips with hers. They kissed gently for several minutes, then he felt her place her fingers over his. He carefully closed his hands, brushing the backs of her fingers with his thumbs. There were a couple of breaks where she checked the time, and after seven minutes, she sat back.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Good," he said promptly. "I like that."

"Good." She smiled hopefully.

"So how do you feel about going to lunch next Saturday, then out to the orchard?"

"That sounds like fun. It's supposed to be nice next week and into the weekend. According to the weather people, anyway." He smiled suddenly.

"Hope they're right," he said. They looked at each other.

"Um... when can we do that again?" he asked. It was a good thing to say. She relaxed.

"Any time you've got seven minutes. I don't want to be greedy, though." He huffed a laugh at the thought that she'd be that into him, but there was a small warm feeling inside him. She walked over to the door.

"See you later," he said, then feeling daring, leaned over to brush his lips over hers. She grinned at him and touched her mouth. He slipped out, hearing the door lock behind him, bemused.