Chapter Text
The ground rumbled under the wheels and they made their way to New York City - by the way the rocks stuck and made noises in them, while threatening to break a tire, they were still far away. Upon realising the length of the trek, the whole team had blessedly reduced their banter to a tired quietness.
Alexei and Bucky were at the front, the latter driving and fighting to keep his eyes open. In the back were John, Ava, and Yelena; the two girls having already given up into sleep's arms.
Ava slowly woke up to the smell of vodka and sweat and hair under her nose. Somehow in the middle of their sleeping, she and Yelena had slid closer together, their heads resting on one another.
Upon realising their position, Ava jumped in a start, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, waking up the other girl in the process.
How could she let herself slip, get intimate like that to a woman she knew for less than a day...
Luckily, John had been scrolling on his phone for a long time now, and didn't notice the awkward exchange.
Why would that matter, too, if he did? These people weren't friends, they weren't even colleagues, they had been sent to kill each other and were now working together in a measly attempt to overthrow Valentina...
But they had grown so close in such a short period of time, trying to save the lives of those they tried to kill, and get away from that vault, that it didn't feel like being rivals. And maybe it was because they weren't.
So now Ava Starr, coldblood assassin, living weapon, Ghost, was stuck in a goddamn roadtrip with this goddamn group of misfits, because she let these people get close. And what scared her was that she maybe didn't regret it.
"Hey, how long 'till New York?" John asks, loud enough to be heard at the front, without taking his eyes off the screen where his fingers are quickly gliding through, clearly uninterested in anything it has to offer, and Bucky answers him with an amount of hours that sounds like too much. "Uh, you guys wanna play a road trip game?"
This was unbelievable, Ava thought. They were killers, mercenaries, not a bloody family on a road trip.
They played the goddamn game anyway.
*
After having saved New York and the world, and being deemed the mighty New Avengers*, Valentina had fixed up a sketchy flat for them to lay low in - seeing as the New* Avengers Tower had been newly arranged and then newly destroyed.
The thing is, they'd pissed her off. She was collaborating with their team now, yes, but it didn't mean she wouldn't keep trying to make their lives as miserable as possible.
The flat was an ugly, tiny thing, in a building just near the Tower that had definitely seen worse and better days.
She'd masked it as being 'better for cover', however they wondered if the world even cared. If there were people out there on the search for their heads on a stick, and there definitely were, they'd find them. Whether it be in a luxury penthouse with space big enough for six, or a petty excuse for a run-down one-bedroom apartment in downtown New York City.
The group all piled into the place, looking around with grunts of disapprovement.
"Dibs on the shower." Ava said, wasting no time looking around and making a beeline for the bathroom.
In the living space, that was somehow not that bad, Yelena and Bob both collapsed on the two hole-filled couches, Alexei walked around the kitchen while going on a rant about their heroic mission and teamwork and whatnot. John went to spy what was in the bedroom, and Bucky looked out the window, with that brooding expression of his that seemed to never really leave his face.
By now, Alexei had somehow been sketching up a meal with what was left in the cupboards and fridge. The other men were surely, definitely, not acting awkward in the living room (they still couldn't find a remote). Yelena had now gone to get her stuff from the car, refusing help from any of the super soldiers.
"I won't be defeated by a duffel bag, Walker." She had said.
As she returned, she walked over to the bathroom door and knocked lightly. Her voice could hardly be heard over the quiet conversation on the other side of the room, but the woman on the other side of the door heard her.
"Hey, Ava? I realised you didn't have a bag so, I brought some of my clothes you can borrow after you shower. If you want." The offer felt awkward, especially without being able to see the look on Ava's face. But Yelena wanted to help. She'd been stringed into this team and now that she was in it she wanted to take care of those her own.
She opened the door slightly, just enough to pass the bag through, and slid the clothes inside. Right after that, the shower was turned off.
When Ava stepped into the living room, wearing Yelena's zip-up hoodie and cargo pants - Ava tried not to notice the way they smelled just as she had, of vodka, bleach, and sweat, and something so distinctly her; tried not to notice the ghost left behind in her stuff, like if she held the cuffs of her sleeves firmly enough she could feel Yelena's touch still lingering in it - the whole place smelled of seasoning and spices.
So she walked up to the couch, and sat beside where Yelena was, telling her "Thank you." with a soft mumble, half her gratitude laying in her smile, the other half in her eyes.
Yelena mirrored the look, before getting up to go shower herself.
The boys started explaining the organization system they'd created.
"The bed is big enough for three so you, Yelena, and Bob could share it, while Alexei takes the armchair, and me and Bucky sleep on the couches." John explained the same way he'd draw up a mission plan. Ava thought it was kind of cute.
"Also, the queue for the shower is you, Yelena, and then Bob, me, John, and Alexei." Bucky continued the trail of thought.
After Bob took a - somehow incredibly quick - shower, and Ava found the remote hidden in the couch cushions, dinner was being served.
Alexei had cooked up something that seemed really tasteful and spicy, most of the team not recognising the dish but admiring either way - even if it was way too heavily seasoned.
Nobody commented on the way Bucky left to shower while they were eating, or how Ava decided to phase into the bedroom to go sleep without dinner.
*
Much to New York's dismay, a storm had started to flare up in the skies.
Ava had felt it first, the electricity in the air causing tingles in her skin, the electrons in her atoms pulsing rapidly, quicker than before. Then the sky had turned grey, although this time not a dark grey like the void's consumption of New York, but a clear, light grey that felt almost homely.
She watched it all perched on the little desk by the window, Bob and Yelena still peacefully dozing on the bed, limbs entangled like old friends. She watched as the early risers rushed around the streets, in and out of buildings, while thinking of everything and nothing.
A loud rumble in the kitchen snapped her out of her abstract thoughts.
Reluctantly, Ava stood and walked to see what the commotion was about, only to be met with Bucky, already awake, heating up the leftovers of yesterday's meal. She glanced at what was behind him - the rumble had come from the ancient microwave starting, and a digital clock marked six forty-nine above the fridge.
She thought about leaving, retreating back into the bedroom if only not to be met with any kind of human interaction. But Bucky had already seen her, eyeing her with a calm curiosity, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes widening ever so slightly when he saw her form flickering, almost as if asking if she was really real, really there.
"Didn't take you for an early riser." Ava said casually as she leaned back on the counter beside him. She fiddled with her cuffs, if only to occupy her own hands. Bucky now wore a white t-shirt, jeans, and a miserable look on his face. That last one might just be permanent.
"Couldn't sleep." He answered simply. Ava could imagine why - she had it, her version of it, all her shameful moments played again and again like a never-leaving unrecognisable tune, in that dark little palace that inhabited Bob's mind; though they knew they each had their own voids.
Until the microwave beeped, they stood in companionable silence. The two had that in common, the quiet; the always watching from a distance, their own presence speaking more than words, people like that, people like them, didn't need words to understand one another. They just did, even if awkwardly so.
Another thunder rumbled in the sky, and Ava tensed. Bucky ate his portion of food, but left a plate on the counter.
Ava braced her palms on the edge of the counter as she closed her eyes. This was the worst part; she'd fought for practically two days on end, forcing her body to dissipate and stitch back together, again, and again. And with that came the pain, and the instability. A flicker of her past everydays.
Curling in on herself, her entire being phased, echoes of herself travelling through the air around them. After the wave, as she opened her eyes, she was met with Bucky's gaze. Open, sympathetic. There. A look was enough, it was all she could demand. It wasn't as if any of them could fix her, it wasn't like anyone could.