This is not the Endgame

Steve was happy these days. Bucky was doing really well with his work and his therapy, which was backed off to once a month--the one-on-one with his therapist--and supplemented with new weekly sessions with a group. Everybody in the group had different problems, but they had all experienced deeply traumatic events, and Bucky said that listening to different approaches to these issues gave him good ideas as well as reminding him how far he'd come. Sam was working hard, being a Captain America everyone should be proud of, and he was happy. Wanda's control over her power was strong and she was also happy and busy. Steve was pleased with the progress that was being made on his apartment building, that he'd lured some key tenants back--including Matt the stylist and his girlfriend Gina, and Mrs Aguilar--and his biggest coup was when Ava said that she would move back when her lease was up. He reserved the studio on the fifth floor with the bay window for her. He was learning a lot in class, his art was improving, and all in all, life was good.

Bucky was the happiest he'd been since before he'd been drafted, overall. Work was interesting and stimulating, he'd been added to two more projects--low-level work, but he was making contacts and learning a lot--and he really enjoyed his co-workers. Steve had given him two really nice canvases to hang in his apartment; their brightness helped make the monochrome color scheme actually look planned rather than depression-inflected purchases, and he began to see why Ava might have thought that it was elegant. The insulation was in and the walls closed up again, painting done, and Steve had allowed him to choose the colors--a warm white for the walls and ceilings and a crisp white for the trim. The floors hadn't been done yet, but the new kitchen was in, and it included a microwave. He'd gotten some cookbooks and an Instant Pot; his mother would have loved it. But it was getting cold, and he was looking forward to an autumn of soups and stews. He was enjoying having a separate bedroom, and Sam had gone with him to choose some curtains for the window. The windows all had blinds, but there was the option to have curtain rods put up. He liked the feeling of shutting the world out in that room, and while the draperies were still gray, Sam had talked him into getting a luxury fabric for them so they'd be less depressing. He'd chosen a soft velvet, and enjoyed his ritual of opening the curtains each day, feeling the plush fabric under his fingers, pulling up the blind. There was a cat bed, a rich red fleece, carefully placed in the area which got the most sun, and this was where Natasha, now cured from ear mites, the eye infection, an abscess, a hurt paw, and parasites, curled up the most. Another saving grace of the gray furnishings was that the cat fur was almost unnoticeable.

And best of all, one evening there was a knock on Steve's door. He opened it to see Thor, still rather grave, but healthier and happier looking. There was manly hugging and smiles, and Steve put together an impromptu gathering in his apartment. There was a sizeable order of pizza that was delivered, and quite a lot of beer purchased and cooled in the refrigerator by the time everybody showed up. Sam and Steve caught Thor up on what they'd been doing, and Bucky explained his progress. He didn't know Thor much at all, but each of them could use another friend. And Thor explained that he'd had some adventures with Peter Quill and the Guardians but had come to realize that running away wasn't the solution to any problems or responsibility. So he'd returned to New Asgard and spoken to Valkyrie. She'd been glad to see him and they'd come up with a division of responsibility that suited them both. The remaining Asgardians had been delighted to see their king returned, in full strength and clear mind. It wasn't that they thought Valkyrie had done a bad job, it was simply that Thor was their king, they'd been patient, and now it was time for him to quit screwing around and do his job. And so he and Valkyrie had divided up responsibilities. It suited her well; she was finally getting some time to develop hobbies and friendships too, not working sixteen or eighteen hours a day. New Asgard was still growing and establishing its roots, and so Thor also got some physical work to do to make the new settlement a real home. He was in New York to consult with bankers to help with infrastructure and delighted to find his comrades. It was a merry night.

Made considerably more merry by Thor's contribution of a thousand-year old distilled Asgardian beverage, the very last of it in existence.

The next morning, a light but firm tapping on the front door woke the revelers. Somewhat. Some of them, anyway.

Sam whimpered pitifully.

Thor, the best off of all of them but not by much, staggered to his feet and answered, looking down at a pretty woman with beautiful thick dark hair. "Um... is Steve here?" she asked cautiously. "I'm here to sign my lease and move in." Thor grunted.

"Rogers," he started to bellow, then clutched his head.

"Oh, god," Steve croaked from the sofa. "Ava?"

"Yeah," the woman said, looking at the carnage on the floor. Apparently both Sam and Bucky had passed out there. There were beer cans and pizza boxes.

"The key is on the desk," Steve whispered. "We can sign the lease later. Could you please turn out the light?"

"It's not on," she said softly, suppressing a smile, but it leaked into her voice. Thor grunted and stood back. She found the desk, the key, and the lease. She picked up key and paper, left a check, smiled gently at Thor, and left. Thor carefully closed the door.

After as much deliberation he was capable of at that moment, Thor took a shower, changed into clean, casual clothing, and decided to leave the others to their hangovers. He knew that for himself, the effects of the drink would dissipate rapidly once he got moving, that Sam was going to want to die for the rest of the day, and he anticipated that the supersoldiers would be somewhere between the two points on this continuum, closer to his end. But now he was hungry and there was no use trying to get the others to make sense just yet, so he went in search of this Ava woman.

He found her a floor down, busily checking... things. She had a rough sketch of the apartment on a piece of paper and was sticking a thingie into the electrical sockets. The door was open, and he tapped the door frame. She looked up.

"Can I help you?" she asked briskly.

"I am Thor, friend of Steve. And of Sam and Bucky. They are still incapacitated. I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of a place where I could find some breakfast. I have not been here before." She straightened up.

"Well, there's a diner not far from here that serves a good breakfast. There's also a grocery store--" her phone rang. "Excuse me, I have to answer this." She listened, then sighed and said ok to whoever was calling. "Grr. The movers are going to be late."

"What are you doing?" Thor asked, curious.

"Well, before the movers start putting my things in, I wanted to check everything. This" she held up the thingie "tells you if the electrical sockets work, so that if you plug something in you know it's going to operate. The building has been extensively renovated, so it's worth checking, and one of them is dead. Might be just a loose wire." She crossed to the kitchen corner, opened the oven, and wrote down a number. "The oven heat matches the setting, I put a thermometer in there. Earlier I checked the burners with an infrared thermometer and that's good." She opened the refrigerator and took out a metal probe, checking a plastic case on the other end. "And the refrigerator temp is right." She stuck the probe into the freezer compartment. "The overhead lights work fine. The tile in the bathroom is a little messed up behind the door, but everything else looks great. Plumbing works." Her smile lit her face as she looked around at the small room, stroking the dark counter absently. Then she looked closer by the sink. "Ah. A nick in the soapstone." She marked that down on the diagram too.

It seemed nice enough to Thor, if too small, but not as special as the woman seemed to think. But he reminded himself that he could no longer call the golden citadel of Asgard home, and the house in New Asgard he shared with Korg and Miek was quantitatively dumpier than Steve's new building. "There are Pop Tarts at the store?" he asked. It was best to be sure.

"Yeah, but if that's what you're into, the diner has homemade ones." Thor perked up. It was quite a sight.

He extended an invitation to breakfast to her, which she accepted, having two hours to burn until her things showed up, and they went to the diner. Today they had strawberry pop tarts, and a good half of his enormous breakfast was these pastries. Ava looked bemused but put away a good-sized breakfast of her own, with pancakes, bacon, and eggs featuring, and a strawberry yogurt smoothie for her drink, a nod to balance. They talked as they ate, little things. Her job and relocation, how she knew Steve, his meetings with bankers and his adventures in space. She was sufficiently charmed to go to the grocery store with him, showing him the way, and recommending hangover treatments. She got a few bags of groceries, which he absentmindedly took from her. They chatted all the way back to the building; she returned to her unit and he went up one more flight. Inside, Steve and Bucky were showing bleary-eyed signs of life, and Thor poured large glasses of water for them as Bucky staggered off to the bathroom to pee and shower. Steve took some aspirin and chugged the water. By the time Bucky shut off the water, Steve was looking much better and was poking into the bags to see what else Thor had bought. Bacon and frozen waffles.

"Breakfast of champions," Thor said, laughing. Quietly; Sam was still asleep.

"Who said that?" Steve asked, getting out a pan to cook the bacon.

"Ava. She told me of a place that made home made pop tarts, Steve. Home made! They're superior to those in the packets."

Steve's answering grin skewed and he gripped his messy hair. "This is not how I wanted to greet my tenant," he said.

"How is that?" Thor asked absently, opening the waffles and looking around for the toaster, deftly inserting two and pushing down the lever.

"Sleeping off a hangover. Irresponsible. Geeze."

"She seemed friendly," Thor offered.

"She's hard to get to know, she keeps a calm face and a lot behind it. She's not a dust bunny, she's no wilting violet."

"She has a diagram of things that are not quite right in the apartment," Thor commented. "She checked out every inch, it seems. It is pleasant, but small."

"God," Steve muttered. "I need to get down there." Bucky wandered in, raking fingers through his thick wavy wet hair.

"Shower's free, Stevie." He took over the bacon, handing the first several pieces to his friend. Steve trotted off, crunching crispy pork.

"You met Ava?" Bucky asked casually, flicking the waffles onto a plate and adding some butter, finding syrup in the pantry.

"Yes. She is an interesting woman." Bucky nodded. "How do you know her?"

"We dated." Bucky put the pan off the stove and put two more waffles in. Steve could have them or he would; he was ravenous. He was also pretty sure that Sam wasn't going to bounce back from the Asgardian booze very quickly. "It didn't end well. Now she thinks that I don't respect her." He looked up from his plate with a clueless expression. Thor asked a few questions and pushed the aspirin bottle over. He had centuries of experience with women, and this seemed like a rookie mistake. Bucky took an aspirin, although he was rapidly improving.

"She is right. You told her that the relationship was over--for her own good. You treated her like a child. You had the right to end your courtship, but you had no right to speak for her. You had your own reasons to terminate the romance, but you owed it to her to be truthful and say what those reasons were rather than projecting reasons onto her. She seems very capable of making up her own mind." Thor sipped his water and nodded. "She understands threat assessment. And it sounds as if she has a fine judgment about how much risk she is willing to run. And you denied her the opportunity to speak for herself." Bucky stilled, looking as if Thor had hit him with a board. Well, sometimes plain speaking was needed, Thor mused. It was certainly the approach that worked best on him.

Steve hustled out of his bedroom in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, looking vigorous if still slightly the worse for wear. His eyes were very patriotic, bright blue with bloodshot whites. The toaster pinged and the waffles jumped up; Sam moaned wretchedly from the floor. Steve tried not to grin and plated the waffles, adding the syrup and butter, eating quickly. He trotted into the hall and down the stairs. He was halfway down before he realized he was missing his shoes. Or socks. Ugh. He was never going to drink with Thor again. But he padded down to the door and knocked.

"So sorry," he apologized profusely when she opened the door. Ava smiled and let him in. "Thor just showed up, I haven't seen him for a long time--"

"So I understand. His adventures with the Guardians were very interesting."

"Oh. When did you hear them?"

"We went to breakfast. My movers are running a little late." And they went over the testing she'd done and her observations. He said he'd get the maintenance man up to look at the outlet, and he'd get somebody to fix the tile problem. Both of them were satisfied, and both parties signed the lease. At that time, the movers showed up, and he took the lease back to his place to file. He put shoes on and went down to notify the maintenance guy; Stan was long gone and he had a very competent worker.

He saw a moving van pull up outside and double park. After ascertaining that they were here with Ava's stuff, he opened the doors and flicked down the little legs that would keep them open. The four movers went upstairs with a clip board, and Steve went back up too; Pete the super was getting a few tools and would be along in a minute. So he was just in time to hear the movers try to shake down Ava for more money, threatening to hold her possessions until she paid an additional five thousand dollars. In cash.

"Let's call the cops and have them sort this out," she said, completely unimpressed by their threatening looming and reaching for her new smart phone (courtesy of her employer.) "Because I have the signed contract right here, with the agreed-upon payment listed here, clear as day." The man pointed out that there had been some unspecified incident that increased the costs, and she pointed out the guaranteed delivery time, which had been passed over an hour ago, and the clause that entitled her to money for breach of contract. She called the cops, despite the mover's desperate attempts to backpedal, and the fuss that Steve had raised over the city's negligence in replacing the streetlight and threats to point out in the press that the only places where the cops went willingly these days were rich people's enclaves had born fruit; a patrol car pulled up five minutes later. The police listened to both parties, corroborated where necessary by Steve, and arrested the movers, calling for backup and an extra squad car to take them away. This did create a problem, but Steve went upstairs and pressed his friends who were not still hungover into action. Ava was bringing in the first box and sighed when Steve volunteered them to help.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "I was working to figure out how to move the big pieces without breaking them or me."

"No problem," Bucky said, and carefully picked up the folding carved wooden screen, which felt much heavier than it looked. Steve tucked the coffee table under his arm and picked up a mirror box. Thor stayed to watch the truck, and they told Ava to stay put, that they'd bring her things up, she could check them off the inventory and look for damages, and direct the placement of the furniture. The men alternated watching the truck with carrying the furniture in--they were all grateful that the elevator was working--and they'd found a hand truck and furniture dollies, helping them out considerably. It was still work to get the heaviest pieces up the three steps before they could be placed on the dollies, especially the step chest, wardrobe, and the sofa. Ava had furniture gliders ready--like coasters under the feet of the furniture that would make moving the pieces easier for cleaning. She'd also called the company and the business, which had an A+ rating at the BBB, was sending people to mitigate the mess and pick up the truck.

"People are coming, you don't need to bring everything in," she said the next time Steve and Bucky came in with a hand truck full of boxes and her bed frame.

"It's fine," Bucky said quietly. "Who knows when they'll get here, and maybe they'll still try to shake you down. It would be inadvisable for them to try, but it's better that all your things are removed from their vehicle."

"I think we're doing a good job," Steve said with satisfaction. "We could have a moving business on the side, Buck--" and they left.

It wasn't long before everything was up in her apartment, the moving pads taken off the furniture, and she'd hastily hung her things in the wardrobe so that the wardrobe box that she'd used could also be returned to the back of the truck. She waited until the company rep showed up, apologized profusely, and discounted the cost considerably, essentially the cost of gas plus two hundred dollars. Ava was very impressed. She returned to her apartment and started unpacking her boxes. A week later, she invited the three men to Thanksgiving dinner.