pennysheets | New Avengers Tower

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New Avengers Tower

The press meeting takes way too long. Then they're all taken to a hospital, because most of them are injured in some way. Then Mel takes them back to that stupid tower. Avengers Tower. Watchtower. New Avengers Tower. Nobody knows what they're calling it.

They get a tour, even though they're exhausted and grouchy, and even though half the tower is clearly in some state of construction and clearly not ready to be shown off. The labs are complete, hastily so, but none of them are going to be going anywhere near those. The rooftop bar is still in shambles, and none of them want to linger there. The kitchen and restaurant-like eating areas spiraled out around it seem intact, and well-stocked, at least.

They each have their own floor. Stark had originally made a whole floor for each of his superhero buddies, which hadn't really been renovated at all even in the multiple years the Avengers had been toast, so now they're the cleanest and least disturbed of the whole tower.

Bucky gets Steve's, Walker gets Thor's, Ava gets Clint's.

Yelena gets the one meant for Natasha. Of course.

And Bob gets Banner's, with its combination of calming decor and Hulk-proof walls.

Then they're left alone to "rest" with the promise that Mel and Valentina will be in touch over the next few days, which sounds more like a threat than anything else.

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"Oh, no, I can be a huge asshole," she says. "I just know when to turn it off. And you haven't done anything to deserve me being an asshole to you."

That hadn't stopped Walker, but she's fairly certain 'asshole' is the only setting the man has.

Her head cocks slightly, and she gives Bob a considering look. "Do you want to stay here, in the...tower? Whatever we're going to call it." She's not entirely certain there's another option, aside from whatever black site Mel - and probably Valentina - would like to spirit him away to. But the thought of keeping him against his will makes her feel faintly queasy, like it's one step along the road to seeing him like a thing, and not a person.

"I don't know," he says, honestly. "I don't really have anywhere else. And when you said we'd stick together... I liked that. Also, I think I might get in trouble if I left." He got the idea of that "somewhere else" Mel was thinking about, himself.

He looks around at the rich, calm, almost sterile suite and admits, "I don't think this is a room I'm going to get a lot of sleep in, though. I feel like I'm getting it dirty just by sitting in it. Maybe I can find a couch somewhere."

"It really does not look very lived-in, does it? We can maybe change things around a little, make it more comfortable. That should be in the budget."

It feels strange just saying that. She'd made good money in her line of work, but that was just her, and there hadn't been anyone to justify any of her expenditures to. Her nose crinkles a little in faint self-mockery.

"If it makes you feel any better, you aren't the only one who feels out of place. This place, being here, it's a lot."

The very idea that anyone would have a budget that includes anything for him boggles the mind. He's never had a lot of money, period, only taking up odd jobs to fund his bad habits, often sleeping rough...

There's an idea, though.

"Maybe we should drag a bunch of blankets and pillows into one of the other rooms, somewhere less rich-looking, and just sleep on the floor," he suggests, only about half joking.

"There's a thought," Yelena says. "I think I remember there being a media room on the tour. We could make a blanket fort, see if anything is actually hooked up to watch movies until we pass out."

Sleep, she knows, will be a long time coming, and not just because of the unfamiliar environment, the sense of trespassing. Spending part of the evening in friendly company might be better than sitting alone with her ghosts and trying to anticipate what Valentina might do next.

"Really?" Bob had liked the idea some himself, it sounds cozier than this by a lot, he hasn't made a blanket fort since he was five and if she's suggesting it then she clearly doesn't think it would be deeply uncool, and he hasn't watched a proper movie in-- he doesn't know how long, anymore.

But he's surprised that she seems to be agreeing. "Okay," he says, with a slightly bigger smile now. "We should, um, probably drink your tea before it gets cold, but after that."

"Really. It will be fun." It will be very, very silly, but maybe they need that after the last few days, even if he doesn't remember some of the worst parts.

She leans over an picks up one of the tea bowls, glancing at him sidelong. "I didn't know if you liked it sweet, so I just brought the honey with me."

A lot of Bob's life is very unsilly. It will probably be good for him to have something a little silly for a little while.

"I'm really not picky and I'll drink whatever you have," he admits, going for the honey first so he can spoon a little in, proving that he does have some preferences. "But I'll take sweet if it's there."

He honestly has no idea when the last time he ate was, but he doesn't feel the nausea that would suggest it's been more than a day or so. So that's something. Maybe they can find some snacks to go with their movies.

He stirs the tea a moment, looking at it spin in the bowl, and finally says, "Do you think Valentina will come back for me? Or let me stay?"

Yelena's quiet for a moment, weighing her response, before opting for the more honest, if less reassuring, "I think probably she will try something eventually, because she is a complete piece of shit who will always try to get back on top. But when she does, she will have a very bad day."

She shifts slightly to face him, curling both hands around her tea bowl. "I meant it when I said we're sticking together from now on. We are not the best people, but no one on this team is going to stand back and just let Valentina take you."

There's a definite warm feeling in his chest hearing her say, again, that they're sticking together from now on. It doesn't hurt, it feels like it should be a good feeling, but there's something in him that warns him that it could hurt if he keeps poking it.

So while the question of why flutters around his head, he doesn't let it out. He doesn't want to poke it. Not yet. Maybe tomorrow, like she said.

He just looks down at his tea again, and says, "Thank you. I don't... want to go anywhere with her. I'd rather stick with you. Your team. And I'll do chores," he adds, tying it back to the earlier conversation.

She gives him a pleased little smile, a bright, quick flash of warmth. "Good. I'm glad. And it will nice to have at least someone I won't have to fight about doing the dishes."

That's perhaps a bit of an exaggeration. She's reasonably certain Bucky won't argue, because he's a functional adult, and Ava's a decent bet for similar reasons. Alexei, though, is a bit of a lost cause, and Walker - well, as she'd said earlier, Walker is a wildcard.

"You probably won't have to fight me about anything," Bob points out after a swallow of his tea, even if there's a little bit of him that feels like that is dreadfully, horribly wrong, and he doesn't know why. Probably the stuff he can't remember, which is not making him want to find out what it is any more than he already didn't. "I'd rather not fight at all, actually. I'd make a really bad part of your team, probably."

It's an attempt at a joke.

No one survives the Red Room without learning facial control, and so Yelena doesn't wince at his statement, so utterly incorrect, though the bruises where she'd been slammed against the ceiling twinge a little.

"You don't have to fight," she promises, then gives him a little grin. "We'll get you running comms, maybe. Once we figure out how the comm station works."

Something safely behind the front lines, at least until he learns to control his powers. Until they figure out what happened between when the Thunderbolts had limped off in disgrace, and his darker side had made its appearance above the city. He might have broken free of it, but there's little chance it's actually gone.

Hopefully more dark side jaunts will be solved with hugs, as well. Then there will be less fighting, at least. Hopefully.

Bob has a hard time imagining himself with a headset and orders and... tactical maps or something. Lots of computer screens, maybe. He certainly wouldn't be giving orders. Even on his best days-- his highest days-- he's still not exactly commanding, and his decision-making usually leads him down the wrong road. He wouldn't want to do that to the rest of them. He'll have a lot to learn if he does wind up actually on the team in pretty much any capacity.

"Maybe there won't be any missions for you guys for a while," he offers over more tea. "Valentina didn't really seem like she had everything, you know, together. The building isn't even finished."

She takes a sip of her own tea, then pauses to add a little honey herself before taking a longer drink.

"No, this definitely was not planned," she agrees. "And I hope you're right and this will give us some breathing room. I would like for my bruises to at least start to fade before we have to deal with invading aliens or other...Avengers things." She laughs, and gives her head a brief shake. "I have to give her this much, she has a lot of audacity. Tried to kill all of us more than once, brokered a hit on one of the original Avengers, and still made this play."

Bob takes a moment to decide whether to actually ask this question. He'd been confused when they first walked through the makeshift curtain, applauded with everyone else at the announcement of his new friends (?) being recognized as heroes for... whatever they did. But he's been watching since then, and none of these people seem happy with this except Alexei.

So he does, in the end, after some more fortifying tea. "Are you going to do what she says? When she says to do things?" He... doesn't like that idea. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't. And yet, if this group belongs to her, like she implied... will they have to?

"No," Yelena says, quiet but firm. "No, we are done taking orders from Valentina. If she has intel, we will vet it thoroughly, and we will act on it if it merits action - but we're not jumping just because she says to."

She sits back a little, and takes another sip of her tea, in a largely subconscious bit of mirroring. "Between the Vault, anything we kept from her assignments, and the fact that there wasn't time to scrub this place, we have leverage to keep her boot off our necks."

The lack of hesitation is reassuring. A little more tension goes out of Bob's shoulders, and he doesn't know why he feels so relieved by her answer, but he does. He, also, doesn't want to do what Valentina says.

Not knowing all these things is probably not great, but he still doesn't ask. He isn't brave enough. Not yet, anyway.

He just sighs and says, "Okay. Okay, good." He drains the rest of his tea. "She's not going to like that. But there's more of you than there are of her. --I hope. I hope she doesn't have a private army somewhere."

"I'm pretty sure she burned those assets," Yelena says, tone a little wry.

And then snorts and scrubs a hand over her face a second later, as her words catch up to her, and hurries to clarify, "Figuratively. I don't think she actually sets all of her former associates on fire, even if it would cut down on having to pay out severance packages."

It's a good thing she did clarify, because Bob looks up sharply with an expression that could be horrified with a moment more thought. She heads that off before it can get past awful surprise. "Had me worried for a second," he admits. "Because, I mean, she tried to set you on fire...." This much, he does remember!

"She did," Yelena agrees. "I still can't believe she turned that vault into an incinerator. Who does that? But no, I don't think she has a whole private army in her pocket, and putting one together will not be easy."

"So we have a little while," Bob surmises from that, relieved. Even if she does put together a private army-- or convinces the one she had before to come back, because that was a lot of people with guns at the vault entrance-- it won't be for... at least a week. Surely at least that long. "At least until tomorrow night, right? So we can watch movies as late as we want."

Nobody to complain about the noise through thin walls, no landlord to threaten, no parents to come storming up the stairs. Maybe it's silly and adolescent, but he finds he's looking forward to it.

"At least that long," she assures with a little grin. "So we do not have to worry about staying up too late, and then having to get up at sunrise to deal with a crisis on our doorstep."

It will, she suspects, take far longer than that. While she hadn't given any details about what or who they found in the vault, she had slipped word of Valentina's murderous little doublecross, and she doubts she's the only one. It's the sort of gossip that spreads like wildfire, and while she would never go so far as to say mercenaries have scruples, they do tend to balk at working for someone who might try to have them executed rather than just cut them a check.

Not everyone. There's always someone desperate enough to take even the worst job, and it's possible some of O.X.E.'s people are still loyal. But they have some time to rest, and recover, and start making plans.

And watch movies late into the night, and even--

"What is your position on pizza?"

"Positive?" he guesses. "You really can't go wrong with cheese and bread and tomato sauce." Well aware why she would be asking that question, he adds hopefully, "Can we order some? Will anyone deliver here?" ... Is there anyone willing to drive through the mess of rubble outside to get here? How long does it take to clean up the streets of New York after... whatever that was?

"If we tip them well enough. You would not believe the sort of business some restaurants did after the Battle of New York."

She finishes off her tea, and sets the bowl back down on the tray. "What do you like on your pizza, Bob?"

New Avengers Tower

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