Back to the grindstone
I spent most of the rest of the day preparing the house for paint. I masked the windows with plastic and found a really neat plastic adhesive sheet on a roll that I put down to protect the floors. I'd rented a sprayer so that the painting would go as quickly as possible, and before I went back to the hotel that night, I had managed to spray primer on all the new drywall. The dogs went into the sun room, and I promised I would bring dog beds with us the next day. Not all the rooms had overhead lighting, so I'd gotten a couple of camping lanterns and made do with those. We were up with the dawn--the dogs moaned pitiably, but I was firm-- and I stopped at a pet store for new beds and to buy a new bag of food. All this and some toys, and the dogs were happy. The door from the sun room to the outside was a handle rather than a knob, so they could let themselves in and out.
I had to be focused; I wanted the house to be more-or-less ready by the time I had to report to work, and time was in short supply. I started off by spraying all the ceilings a flat white, then moved on. I was saving time by painting most of the rooms a warm white, with a rose cast to it. I like reds, purples, blues, and greens, not yellows or oranges, so this would go with pretty much anything. It would be a lot easier to bring in color with accessories than to paint the walls whenever I got a wild hare. The exceptions to this paint consistency was the dining room, in which I planned to use a rich green below the chair rail and white on top for now until I found some nice wallpaper, a sweet periwinkle in the kitchen, the sun porch's few paintable surfaces would be a light green, and my bedroom a pretty, very light pink. It wasn't as if I was planning hosting an orgy or anything, and lord knows I never paid attention to lighting when I was younger, but now that I had a few years on me, I was beginning to see the value of flattering light. Even if it was just for me. As I painted, I wrestled with what to do with the bathroom. I hated the tile in there. There was nothing wrong with it per se, it just wasn't me. I don't like small white octagons. But it would really put me behind to have to redo the tile. In the end, I reasoned, I could use the full bath across the way while I redid the tile. That bathroom had plain white beveled tiles in the shower, with glass accent tile that was also used as the backsplash for a white vanity, and would look pretty when I painted it in a purple color that was too peppy to be a proper lavender, and I really liked it. I would have to find some how-to videos to see if it would fit in my timeframe. By the time we left late that night, the painting was done in all rooms except the master bath. That was going down. And I had painted the trim in the rooms with colored paint.
The next day I felt I was in a pretty good place. Sure, I was exhausted, but I was making so much progress. I still had the tin ceiling to put up in the kitchen and the butler's pantry, but that was going to take some help. I dropped the pups off at the house and went back to Home Depot, where a very nice associate helped me locate everything I'd need to remove the tile and put up nice stuff. Then I said to hell with it, and bought a new vanity and faucet sets for the sink and shower and the tub. I liked the new low-flow toilet and a medicine cabinet had been installed that had a lovely oval mirror, so that was great. Shelves for towels and stuff had been built in (I'd sprayed those white while I was at it), so I wasn't in that bad of shape, all things considered. The associate in plumbing warned me about overtightening when putting up the fixtures, and advised me to buy some replacement washers until I got the hang of it.
I spent a huge chunk of the day at furniture stores, but I'd decided already that if I didn't really like something, I'd wait to buy until I did. But I was in luck and found a great bed, night stands, and bureau for my bedroom with a cedar chest for the foot of the bed. I planned to outfit one bedroom as a guest room, but didn't know what to do with the other, so I passed on furniture until I figured it out. Aside from lining the walls in the attic with three-shelf bookshelves, I didn't know what I wanted to do there, either. The parlor with the turret would be an office/library, and I found a wonderful desk, a huge, gorgeous art deco beast and a good desk chair. I thought I'd splurge and have bookshelves custom made; I didn't have nearly as many books as I used to, and it would take time to build up my collection anyway. I'd probably have to have a cushioned seat custom made for the window seat that lined the turret. There was a great sectional for the other parlor with a supremely comfortable armchair, a coffee table sized will for the sectional, end tables, and an entertainment center. What I couldn't really find was a table and chairs for the dining room and a sideboard. Lamps where they were needed. I found a great pedestal table and four chairs for the kitchen, so when I was home I wouldn't have to eat on the floor. The dogs were awesome and smart, but they tended to believe that any food on the floor belonged to them. I paid extra for prompt delivery. Then I went to a couple of lighting stores, where I found the perfect crystal chandelier for the entryway hall, another beauty for the dining room, and new sconces for my bedroom. I liked the pot lights in the other rooms downstairs, all on dimmers, which was nice, and the overhead lights in the upstairs rooms and the lighting in the bathrooms was excellent. Then to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and Target for sheets, towels, pots and pans, the lot. After a hurried dinner, I hit Nordstrom for the last stuff on my list: really good pillows, a down duvet, the last of the kitchen stuff, and stoneware, everyday glasses, and cutlery. I'm sure I was missing things, but the bulk of the work was done. It wasn't really the right season to get furniture for the sun porch. I dumped everything at home and went back to the hotel early at nine. We slept in til seven, too.
Then it was full tilt--I alternated running the dishwasher and the laundry, and was interrupted while I was finding homes for everything most gladly by furniture deliveries. The house was clean, but there's just something about making sure it's clean, so I worked my little heart out in the kitchen and bathrooms. The kitchen had stainless appliances, white quartz countertops, white cabinets, and glass backsplash in shades of green that looked lovely and fresh with the paint. Over a late lunch, I found YouTube videos and went upstairs to rip out the tiles in the bathroom. The vanity was delivered and placed in the hall; the delivery guys had some great tips for doing the tile and installing the vanity. Even working hard, I wasn't able to get the tile completely laid.
Time had run out. Tomorrow was the seventh day and I had to report to work. I'd have to wait to finish.
With the realization that I wasn't going to finish, I knocked off early and we went to the hotel for the last night. I wanted a good night's sleep before getting back into the pressure cooker that was Avengers Central.
The next morning I packed up and wore one of the new suits that had been mailed to me from the tailor in New York, did my hair, makeup, stockings, pumps, the lot. There was a clause in my contract, boilerplate that I recognized as coming from HR, that said dress was to be appropriate for my duties, but as an employee, I felt I should do better than yoga pants and knit tops. And it was my first day. I wanted to make a good impression when I showed up. I brought along casual pants, a simple top, and an old lab coat for the actual work.
The dogs seemed to be excited to be going back; I just hoped I wasn't making a big mistake. It wouldn't be easy to get out of the contract if I had. And I was worried about my reception from the others. They could have written me off, regardless of what Bucky said. I checked out, did one more lint roller over my suit, and we got in the car.
At the gate, the guard peered in the car, verified one person and two dogs, and let us through. First hurdle down; Tony had remembered to update my status. I parked in the garage and, unsure of where I was supposed to be, decided to treat it like an ordinary work day and headed to the shop. I opened it up and looked around. It was good to be back.
A little housekeeping. I took all the stuff related to costumes and dumped it in a box, dragging it out to the porch for pick up. Then I took a cloth and wiped down the flat surfaces. There wasn't any dust, but it made me feel better. The dogs snuffled around, then hit the dog beds. I stowed the bag with my clothes and put a binder on a shelf where I could easily access it. I heard whistling, and looked up to see my boss climbing the stairs. He frowned at the box and plucked out the poleaxes.
"You'll need these," he said, handing them to me as soon as he came through the door. "Contract says you have to keep fit to perform your duties, which may require testing weapons for the team." I put the poleaxes down on the bench and pull out the binder, flipping through it. Sure enough, there's a clause, nicely non-specific. Tony looks at my binder and starts to laugh. I'd put each page of the contract into a plastic sleeve; I was sure I'd be referencing it a lot and wanted to keep it from wear and tear. I sighed and put it back on the shelf. "You'll start back on the obstacle course with Rogers, too." He looks me up and down and whistles. "Tomorrow. So bring workout clothes. In fact, you should just move in again."
"No can do, Tony," I said, smiling. "I bought a house." His face fell.
"Where?" he demanded.
"Well, that's something I wanted to talk to you about. It turns out that it backs up to this property. I wondered if I could persuade you to put a gate in the fence so we can walk to work."
"We?" Sigurd raised his head and woofed, and Tony nodded. "Right. We can discuss that. There are papers to sign from HR, tax stuff, and you can show me on the map." He offers me his arm, and we stroll to the administration block. He asks me questions about the house.
"Why didn't you just hire somebody to do the tile and the ceiling?" he wants to know. "And the painting? Why do all the manual labor?" I drop my hand from his arm and tickled him.
"No," he says firmly, stepping away and holding up his hands. I lunge around him and tickle until he laughs.
"I wanted to get done," I said simply. "I miss having a home."
"Oh,' he said quietly. He offers me his arm again until he holds the door for me.
"That said, I might find somebody to put up the tin ceiling. And maybe finish the tile. I don't really think I like tiling." He chuckles and hits the elevator button, offering to send over one of the site's contractors, since they've already been vetted and do top notch work. I chew my lip as we walk down the hall.
"I really shouldn't, I don't really feel right about diverting work resources to a personal project," I say.
"I look at it as ensuring that my talent isn't distracted by mundane details," he says, opening the door and going through ahead of me.
"Finally, Stark; we've been waiting on y--" Clint's irritated voice breaks off when he sees me. Everybody turns to look. Tony distracted me and I didn't notice he was bringing me to the conference room, where the Avengers have assembled. I'm literally whisked off my feet as Steve picks me up in a big, suffocating hug.
Then I'm crowded and hugged by everybody. Bucky is laughing at everybody's reactions. Nick is standing off to the side, watching. I look at him warily. "I'm glad you're back," Natasha says, linking her arm with mine and drawing me to the table.
"Ah, she's not back to the team," Tony says, cutting a look at Nick. "She's here as my metallurgist."
"I hate when you say that," I complain. "It's like you're saying 'my handbag.'"
"I don't carry a purse," he says, "And you're a lot more useful. I just like reminding everybody that I got the job done and got you back here."
"As an employee," I say, and he rolls his eyes.
"Whatever. I can't nag you into rejoining the team, that's in the contract," he says briskly. I groan. He's just invited the others to do it for him, and I tickle again in retaliation. "Oh, hey, no," hey says, trying to fend me off. "Fine, then. Nobody is to put pressure on you."
Steve holds a chair for me. "So what are you doing?" he asks me.
"Well, I thought I was signing HR paperwork," I say ruefully.
"Nope, we never terminated your employment, so no paperwork. We told everybody you were on vacation. Cinnamon roll?" One of the workers from the caf comes in with a tray of the aforementioned treats and coffee. After everybody settles in with the gooey deliciousness, Tony continues. "She'll pretty much be seeing to our metal needs. If you have questions or a project, email it to her for her consideration. If she can't do it she'll tell you why and we can look at alternate solutions." I look at Tony, then turn to Steve.
"So that's what I'll be doing," I tell him mildly, and everybody laughs.
"Also, she needs to keep in shape, so she'll be hitting the obstacle course." Steve nods. "Starting tomorrow. And she needs to work with that poleaxe again."
"Why, if she's not suiting up?" This is the first thing Nick's said.
Tony shrugs. "She works at the heart of the Avengers complex. We're not the lowest-risk employers on the planet. I'll feel better if I know she's proficient in defending herself." Bucky nods.
"Tomorrow," he says. "Although you should learn to fight in whatever you're wearing."
Natasha touches the sleeve of my suit. "That's lovely. Merino wool?"
"Superwash," I confirm. It's a process that makes the wool really soft and not scratchy. Then there's some chatter, and Vision asks where I'll be living.
"I just bought a house that is, as it turns out, adjacent to the complex," I say.
Clint brightens. "Is it that one with the copper roof?" When I nod, he beams. "We're neighbors. We're just a couple miles away."
"Yes, close neighbors," Wanda says, smiling. Tony brings out the map so I can show him the location and where I'd like the gate. After the fuss dies down and the cinnamon rolls are gone, Tony claps his hands.
"Gotta get back to work. Harrington, give me your key and I'll get a tile guy over."
I take it off my keyring and hold it up. "Do not make any copies, Tony. It is not in the contract."
"I'm sure there's a clause."
"There isn't."
"There should be. Do you want to amend it?"
"No!" I say in exasperation.
"Ok," he says, taking the key. Chuckles start. "Let's get to work, people. I'm not paying her to sit around and look pretty." That might be the nicest thing he's said to me.
"Is there really a contract?" Thor asks.
"There is," I confirm. "Thirty-six pages of it." He starts laughing.
"There are areas that are open to interpretation," Tony says almost primly.
"This will be fun to watch," Thor says in amusement, and Tony puts his hand on my back and shoves me gently to the door.