Getting settled in
Tony walked me back to my workshop and left, and I changed clothes and rummaged around to see what tasks I had left hanging. The first priority was to finish the poleaxe for Bucky so that we could spar. I needed to grind the edge sharp and affix it to the pole, which wasn't much work. I was polishing it when the man himself showed up. I smiled, glad to see him.
"It's nice to have you back," he said, then looked at my work. "Is this mine?" I handed it over and he looked at it with appreciation. "Nice." He tested the edge and looked his question at me as Steve came in.
"It can't hurt me," I say, shrugging. "Besides, I trust you." Bucky looked down and stroked the metal, then handed it back.
"I have your boxes," he said gruffly. "If you'll give me your keys, I'll put them in your car for you." Steve looked between us.
"You knew she was coming back?" he asked Bucky, sounding betrayed.
"I told him I was staying in Seattle and he offered to bring the boxes from the attic of the house with him," I said. "I thought Tony deserved his surprise. He worked hard on the contract," I admitted, then shook my head. "I knew he'd be planning something, and I completely forgot to look out for it."
Steve's expression relaxed and he laughed. "I guess he did deserve that. But what's this about a house?" I rammed the metal head onto the ash pole, which was stained a dark gray and affixed it with screws, handing it to Bucky to try before telling them about buying the house and fixing it up.
"I was going to have to hire somebody to do the bathroom floor anyway," I admitted. "There's this huge clawfoot tub in there. I probably would have gotten a hernia if I'd tried to move it." Bucky shook his head and cuffed me lightly.
"What's the point of knowing a bunch of enhanced people if you're not going to lean on them for favors?" he chided, his voice amused.
I looked at them and smiled. "Because I don't like to ask for help," I said, then leaned on my bench, kind of surprised that I'd answered so honestly, crossing my arms. "You guys have enough demands on you."
Steve rolled his eyes in a rare sarcastic response. "We're friends. It's not a demand if you're friends."
"Unless you state it specifically as a demand," Bucky said helpfully. "But you'd probably spend five minutes qualifying your request, making it perfectly clear that we could turn it down if we wanted and we probably should." I flushed.
"I was afraid you'd be angry that I left," I said in a small voice. Then, to my horror, my eyes welled up and overflowed. The boys looked panicked.
"Everybody was upset," Steve said urgently, patting his pockets. "But never so mad that we wouldn't have come if you'd asked." He held out a handkerchief, exactly like my grandpa used to carry. Then I kind of lost it.
"Did you break my toy?" Tony's voice said sharply, and I looked up. Steve was actually wringing his hands and Bucky was looking between me and the door. I sniffled mightily. Bless Tony for dragging me out of my insecurity.
"I'm nobody's toy," I said, hoping I got all the mascara off under my eyes. Yikes. I'd probably have to bleach Steve's handkerchief. Tony and I started to bicker, then somehow started to bat at each other like cats. Bucky started to laugh, setting off Steve.
"Are you sure your dad wasn't Howard Stark?" Bucky asked. Tony and I froze, looking at each other in horror.
"Yes," I said, relaxing and blowing out a breath of air. Tony still looked horrified at the thought, and I stuck my tongue out at him.
"Are you sure?" Bucky pressed. "You had dark hair when you were younger, you're a genius too, and you bicker like siblings, he's protective like a big brother."
"Mom said once that my dad had really pretty ruddy gold hair. I never cared about knowing who my dad was, but that didn't mean my grandparents didn't know. When I went to work for Stark Tech, my grandpa would have told me. He wouldn't have let me just go to work for my dad without knowing about it. Besides, my grandparents absolutely hated my dad. The only time I every heard my grandma swear was in a comment about him. She displayed quite a grasp of profanity," I said, smiling slightly. "People in town weren't always kind about my mom being an unwed mother, and my grandpa once threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again. In contrast, he always had good things to say about Mr Stark." I looked at Tony and smirked. "I think we are a lot alike in certain personality aspects. We both have barbed tongues, for example. But we're dissimilar in others. Both of us have big egos, I'm just pretty successful in restraining mine." He laughed and flung his arm around me. "I think we bicker a lot because neither of us is willing to back down, especially when it matters. We're both pretty stubborn, and I'm not going to let myself be beaten by Tony Stark."
"So you admit you're intimidated by me."
"Certainly not," I said haughtily. "It's more my philosophy in life."
"What did people say?" Steve wanted to know, smiling.
"When I was a kid, I remember an incident after Sunday school. I walked up to my mom and this old man was telling her that she was going to hell for being a loose slut with a bastard. My mom was astounded. Nobody said anything, but my mom slapped him hard. Then I said--"
"Here it is," Tony said, rather amused.
"That I shouldn't have to go to hell because I didn't have anything to do with it and that my dad was the asshole for running away. My mom just shook her head and we left. It was the last time I had to go to church. When we got to my grandparents' place for after-church lunch, Mom was upset, but my grandparents were livid. When they heard about what I said, my grandpa said I shouldn't call somebody an asshole in church, and I said something about an asshole being an asshole no matter where he was, and my grandma said my grandpa had to quit swearing around me. Her rebuke was slightly softened by the big slice of pie she gave me," I said, grinning.
Steve rubbed his face. "I'm both appalled and amused," he said.
"Was there a followup?" Tony asked.
"Yeah, he made himself unpopular by saying those things to my mom in church, but we still didn't go back. A couple of years later, we were in the supermarket when this woman came up to mom and told her that the man had died, you know, trolling for a reaction. Mom was polite, saying that it was a loss for his family. I looked at her in astonishment, and the woman asked me what I thought."
"And what did you say?" Bucky said, smiling.
"That it was great that he could finally explain to Jesus why he called my mom a slut and me a bastard in His house of worship. She went all "I never!" and bustled off. Mom just looked at me and shook her head, and later my grandpa explained to me that we don't speak ill of the dead because they can't fight back," I recited from memory. "And that sometimes it's ok to be a hypocrite. You know, I kind of feel sorry for my mom, in retrospect," I said. "I was not an easy kid."
Tony was looking at me in fascination. "Was?" he inquired. I smacked him.
There was some silence, and Steve valiantly tried to get the conversation back on track. Any track, going anywhere. "I'd like to see your house some time."
I smiled at him. "If I can find a table and chairs I like, I may invite everybody over for Christmas," I said lightly, and I answered questions about the furniture I picked out. "Don't laugh when you see it," I warned. "It's all just stuff I like, it doesn't necessarily go together."
"I'm sure it looks great," Steve said politely. I looked at him and laughed. The boys left, Bucky with my keys and his new poleaxe.
"Good. Nose to the grindstone," Tony said. "I'm going to send you some specs. I'd like to cut more weight on my suit." He strode out.
When I got home that night, the tin ceiling was up and looked beautiful. The tile was completed, including a corner in the shower that I'd fudged, and there was a note saying they would be back tomorrow to grout. I looked around and smiled. It was going to be wonderful.
The next morning we went in early and I dropped by to see Loki. He was glad to see me and we chatted for awhile. Then I had to leave and meet Steve on the obstacle course. Bucky met us at the finish line and looked at Steve critically. "You don't have to run behind her," he pointed out, and Steve blushed. Now that I thought about it, it was weird. Steve always led from the front, ready to shout back encouragement or to give somebody a hand over the wall. He was always ready to boost me over if I wasn't going fast enough. We made arrangements to train with the poleaxes after I finished calisthenics in the gym. That way I'd only have to shower once.
Clint stopped by my shop in the afternoon when I was thinking about an alloy for Tony's suit. He brought a plate of brownies that Laura had baked as a housewarming present and extended an invitation to Thanksgiving. "The whole team will be invited," he said, "but they might not be able to make it. You know how it is." I accepted with pleasure--I knew that I wouldn't be running around on a mission. When I got home, I called Laura to thank her for the invitation and ask what I could bring. We discussed a little, and I said I'd bring rolls. My grandma had a recipe for the world's best Parker House rolls, it took three risings to get them perfect but they were so worth it. I'd have to make a trial batch to make sure I remembered how to do it; I vividly remember the horrible products the first time I'd made them on my own. I was surprised to see I had less than a week left. I'd have to go to the grocery store this weekend. When I went upstairs, not only was the grout finished, they'd installed the vanity and the fixtures. It looked amazing. I smiled a little to see that one of the packets of washers had been opened and used.
I went shopping again over the weekend for some rugs to soften and warm the hardwoods, getting a soft and fluffy one for my bedside and picked up a few more things I needed. I visited an upholsterer with the precise measurements for the window seat in the turret so I could get some nice cushions to make it cozy. Talking to the guy gave me a few more shops to check out for a dining room table and a new art gallery. I went home with a couple of new paintings for downstairs and a dozen sleek leather dining room chairs and a sideboard that would be delivered. The first batch of rolls was indeed terrible, but the second was much better. It was coming back to me. The batch I made on Wednesday was better yet, and were very much enjoyed the next day. Everybody was able to make it, even the ones who weren't Americans. Everybody seemed to welcome the opportunity to give thanks for something. I know I did.