Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hurry your arse up!”

“You take it easy! I’m the one pushin’ forty here.”

The air is cool and crisp, signs that a comfortable autumn has already taken New York’s urban nature. Ava’s favorite season. She finally gets to relish in the aesthetic like every other pumpkin spice obsessed maniac in their thirties. She tugs Johns hand as her platform boots stomp the sidewalk, rushing through crowds of people looking to enjoy the cooling weekend.

What makes today better is the fact that her boyfriend (Lover? Partner? Synonym?) promised her a day out for their three-month anniversary, so she really will get to absorb the mid-October oranges that decorate the city.

She embraces the aesthetic with high-waist ripped jeans, her maroon Florence + The Machine Natural Lungs t-shirt, and her cropped green button-up, all matched with her black quantum stabilizer sleeves, stockings, and choker. John matches her with dark jeans and a maroon button-up over a dark green undershirt. His camo army boots do technically match, though Ava already teased him about how ‘some habits fail to leave so quickly.’ Besides, she got busy tugging him across Manhattan all the way to Chelsea.

Their first activity: thrifting.

For ages, Ava wanted to visit thrift shops or flea markets so she could experience buying cute clothes for cheap, and she (alongside Yelena, Kate, and occasionally Bob) has spent the last few months enjoying that satisfaction of bringing home heaps of new clothes and trinkets that end up costing just under $100 total. She wants John to feel the same.

“Ah, finally! We made it.” The couple stops in front of a store lined with bright red: Artists & Fleas Market.

“Oh, cool, a flea market?”

“Yup! And for today, I have a special challenge for us.”

“A challenge?”

Ava pulls John to one of the windows peeking inside, weekend crowds packing the building for crafts and clothes at each vendor spot.

“Joaquin and Bob gave me the idea,” She nearly bounces where she stands from excitement, and John holds her hand tight in his grasp. “The challenge is to find something super corny to give each other. We’ll spend thirty minutes inside searching for one thing that reminds us of the other, and when time is up, we’ll meet back at the entrance and present our gifts.”

“Okay…” John scans the store and the people inside. “Question: can what we’re looking for be inspired by things the other likes, or is this just…” He vaguely waves his hand around, “going purely off vibes?”

Ava purses her lips in thought. What did the guys say? Joaquin found Bob the capybara plush because its face reminded him of Bob after he wakes up, but Bob got Joaquin the Ricky Martin t-shirt because he remembered Joaquin mentioning seeing him in concert in 2011. Joaquin always talks about how Ricky Martin was the Bad Bunny of his time. So…

“How about both?”

“Both?”

“Both.”

“Yeah, both is good.” They chuckle and share a quick kiss. Hand in hand, they step up to the store entryway.

“As soon as we get inside, the game is on.”

“Got it.” John steps forward and opens the door for Ava. A man of chivalry, something she admires.

“Okay, go!”

They practically dash inside and split up, waving each other off before pushing into the task at hand.

It is on.

If past Ava were up to it, she would get John some stereotypical patriotic artwork or t-shirt just to piss him off. That joke got old pretty quick after everyone moved in.

She carts through racks of t-shirts and scans over art vendors, but nothing quite catches her eye as ‘John Walker.’ She checks the time: only twelve minutes left.

She moves to the vinyl racks and starts carding through records, already mentally checking ABBA off as unnecessary. They already managed to find and purchase every known ABBA album record there is, and they do not need doubles filling up their record box. Gorillaz Demon Days looks appealing…

CRASH!

Broken porcelain startles Ava away from the records and toward the antiques. She jogs to the sound’s origin spot and finds a crying toddler and her mother near the shards of an old vase, scattered across the floor. The mother’s electric wheelchair prevents her from reaching down for the shards properly, and no one around them seems eager to help. Ava steps forward and kneels down.

“Here, I can help you.” Ava gathers the bigger shards in one hand, gradually placing smaller pieces onto the pile until the floor is almost clean. The mother holds her daughter to her chest and rocks her.

“Thank you so much, ma’am, how kind of you.” The mother adjusts her chair until she can face Ava. The little girl looks up at Ava, having stopped crying almost immediately after she came over. She leans to her mother’s ear and whispers something, and the mother’s eyes widen. “My goodness, ma’am, are you the Ghost?”

Ava’s chuckle comes off as awkward. “Uh, sorry?”

“From the uh, what, New Avengers- no, the Thunderbolts! The one who can disappear and walk through walls?”

“Um, yes. That’s me.” The mother and little girl smiles are almost blindingly bright.

“Wow, we’re good fans of yours! I’m Tracy, by the way, and this is my daughter, Rowan.”

This is new. “Ava. Nice to meet you both.”

A staff member speed-walks up to the three. “Hello! So sorry for the holdup, but someone heard a crash here?”

Tracy rolls forward. “Hi, yes, my daughter was looking at the vase and put it back too close to the edge of the shelf. I think I knocked into it by accident. I’ll pay for-”

“No, I’ll pay for it. It was an accident and I can afford it.” Ava pours the shards into a trash bag held open by the employee.

“Oh, there’s no need to do that.”

“It’s okay, ma’am, honest.” Ava nods to the employee and turns back to Tracy, kneeling back down. “I actually could use some help. I’m looking for a gift for my partner? If you could help me find something, that’d be great.”

“Oh? Who’s your partner?”

“Don’t laugh, but…” Ava guides Tracy and Rowan out of the aisle and finds John across the room, chatting with a jewelry vendor about a bracelet in his hand.

“Oh, I see. Quite a catch you got.”

“I know. He’s a- a jerk sometimes, but he cares a lot.”

“That’s nice. What kinds of things does he like?”

“Well, I was just looking through records to add to our collection, but other than that, he’s a great cook and… he brought up that he liked fishing when he was a kid.” Tracy turns around and rolls toward the dishware section, Ava following behind her. “I also learned that he played ice hockey as a teenager, so that might be something.”

“Ice hockey! In that case, I think I remember spotting something earlier that’ll do perfectly. Rowan, you wanna walk for a bit?” Rowan nods and steps down from Tracy’s lap, but she keeps a hand on an armrest, staying side-by-side with her mother. Ava follows behind them until Tracy finds it. “Ah, here it is. What do you think?”

Ava kneels down and sees what Tracy found.

A large coffee mug, shaped like a hockey puck, complete with a goal stand above the handle.

Ava chuckles. “Oh my God, it’s perfect!”

John leans by the door, watching Ava at the checkout as she talks to a woman and her daughter. Ava is far from known to talk to strangers, but she smiles and laughs with the woman as they chat. John’s chest feels warm. Today really is a good day.

Ava finds John and waves to him, turning around to say goodbye to the mother and kid before jogging up to him, gift bag in hand. Right on time for the clock to stop.

“Hey. You good to go?” John takes her free hand as they step outside.

“Sure am. What’d you get me?”

“How about I show you while we stop for a bite. That search took a lot out of me.”

“Of course, classic Super Soldier metabolism.”

“Hey, a man’s gotta eat, okay?”

Ava chuckles as they saunter down the sidewalk.

***

Next activity: lunch.

John mentioned before many times that he wanted to take Ava out for a classic meal date at the Italian spot, Fusilli’s. It only makes sense that John take her there today for a filling lunch before they walk anywhere else.

Outside has gotten pretty warm, so they take a booth by the window and soak in the air conditioning. Ava’s shrimp scampi and John’s chicken alfredo are halfway done when they trade their gift bags. John pulls out the mug and chuckles.

“How’d you know I played hockey?”

“One of the photos at your old house showed you off in your old gear.”

“Yeah, we won quite a few games.”

“Championships?”

“Nah, American Southern states aren’t as renowned for hockey. That being said, I’ve grown fond of the Rangers.”

“Mmm, okay. You’ll have to tell me what that means.”

“I will after you open your gift.”

Ava smiles and pulls out a box. Once opened, inside she finds… a gorgeous nephrite jade amulet. The chain is thicker than most fine jewelry, likely sterling silver, and the jewel itself is uncarved and simply rimmed. Beautifully polished.

“John, this is gorgeous…” Ava is starstruck to say the least.

“I know the gifts were supposed to be corny, but I saw that and it reminded me of your eyes… god, it’s so stupid- that’s the only reason I got it-”

“No, John, you understood very well.” Ava puts the necklace on, and if John looked smitten before, the look in his eyes multiples tenfold. “I love it.”

It is quite easy to tell when John is flustered- his skin is so pale and the redness spreading across his cheeks and ears does not disprove that. He stuffs more food into his mouth, and Ava giggles at the sight of alfredo sauce decorating his chin.

Their waiter approaches the table. “Hey, you two. Everything good over here?”

“The food is delicious, thank you.” Ava twiddles her fork, and John gives the waiter a nod and a thumbs-up, as his cheeks are currently stuffed.

“Excellent! Call me if you need me.” The waiter leaves. Ava takes a quick look outside, and something catches her eye.

A quick shine through the spaces of a bush across the street, glinting off the afternoon sun. Ava’s guess? Paparazzi.

She turns back to John. “Hey, how about we take this to-go and head back out for a bit. I think someone’s waiting for us.” She gestures toward the glint in the bush. John finds it and nods.

“Y’know what? Yeah, I could go for a walk, maybe talk to some people.”

Ava calls the waiter back for to-go boxes and the check.

The photographer stands frozen against the alley wall, pinned on his shoulder by the U.S. Agent himself, and watched carefully by the Ghost behind him.

“How rude of you to stalk people on their day off,” Ava taunts. The kid barely reacts, keeping a neutral look despite being cornered by two former-assassins-involuntarily-turned-superheroes. He adjusts the skew of his glasses and runs a hand through his messy brown curls.

“Don’t blame me, ma’am, blame the Bugle. Jameson keeps wanting new stories about heroes and vigilantes. It’s my day off, too, I just happened to-” John tightens his hold on the kid’s shoulder.

“Don’t bullshit us, kid. I’ve done this before, trust me. What’s your name?”

“Why should I tell you?”

He is answered with sharp glares.

“… Peter.”

“Okay, Peter. Here’s the deal,” John loosens his hold ever so slightly. “The two of us will continue our little weekend outing, and you’ll go back home and delete whatever photos you took. If we find those photos published online or on any paper, there will be consequences.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Maybe we’ll visit you at home,” Ava smiles, “or the Widow or Guardian might stop by. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get an exclusive from Bucky Barnes himself.”

The mention of Bucky seems to hit Peter the hardest. “Okay, fine, I’ll leave and delete the photos. You won’t see me for the rest of the day, I swear.”

“That better be true, kid.” John lets Peter go. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll see you again when you have better sense.”

“I don’t know, I’ve got pretty good sense.” Peter walks backwards, away from the couple in front of him. “I will say, it’s an honor to meet you both.” He salutes them and walks away.

“Weird kid.”

Ava leans her head on John’s shoulder. “Seems nice, though. Somehow, I trust him.”

“Y’know what? I agree.” John picks up his gift bags and the leftovers with one hand and holds the other out for Ava. “Shall we stroll awhile?”

Ava takes the hand and moves to John’s side. “You’re a whole ear of corn, you know that?”

John chuckles and pulls Ava closer.

***

Dusk takes the sky in its warmest colors.

John and Ava lean against each other on a bench in Central Park, overlooking the lake. The surface of the water perfectly reflects the city horizon as two hearts synchronize in each other’s comfort. Neither would rather be anywhere else.

“This was a good day,” She nearly whispers into his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily.

“We should get home soon.” They could fall asleep here is they wanted, but the comfort of one of their beds is a lot more compelling.

“We should…” He turns to look Ava in the eye, forest green meeting sky blue. “Five more minutes?”

She smiles and leans up to meet his lips in a brief, soft kiss. “Five more minutes.”

Another kiss is shared before Ava rests her head on John’s heart, and he rests his cheek on her hair.

How wonderful an October day.

***

Peter looks through the photos of the hero couple he met earlier. A seemingly unlikely pairing, yet they look so happy together.

He never planned to send photos to Jameson, let alone delete them. He honestly finds it astounding to see two heroes enjoy a day off together with hardly anyone interfering.

It reminds him of before. Before the villains, before the spells, before the broadcast.

They remind him of himself and…

When she could…

When his best friend…

When his only family was still…

He moves the photos to a private folder. Not like anyone will bother seeing them anyway.

No one is looking for them.

No one is looking for him.

Not that he knows…

Chapter Text

The procedure is relentlessly boring these days.

Long days without the full suit, outside the quantum stabilizing chamber, for hours on end? It is her dream to spend even a full day outside with near total control of her molecules, yet here she is.

She realized recently, though, that she feels less need for the suit each day. The arm sleeves and stockings hand crafted by the Pym-Langs help tremendously, and now whether it be from longer missions, frequent outings, or lazing around the tower, she feels more comfortable not wearing a thick pleather suit everywhere she goes.

She remembers the trip to Georgia, and how she spent nearly an entire weekend in the chamber afterwards. How John found her as soon as he got out of medbay, and how they spent their shared time laying on the floor with ABBA playing on speakers at low volume. The memory always warms her heart.

She only needs another half-hour before she can step out, but time flies fast when you move through a Sudoku booklet and eat leftover shrimp scampi from the best date you had ever been on so far.

The artist on the speakers today is Surf Curse.

***

John wraps up baking a strawberry shortcake.

The icing is nothing short of liquid goo and the strawberries are getting old, but the last time he baked was right before the divorce, so he takes what he can get for now.

Honestly, he feels proud of himself.

The cake, despite how it looks like a melted heap of goo and bread, actually tastes alright. John even goes for a second slice.

He considers taking a slice to Ava’s room, but almost as if he summoned her, she walks right into the kitchen. They both settle into post-date comfort, John in a white undershirt and gray sweatpants, Ava in a cropped hoodie and leggings.

“Hey, hon.”

“Hello, love-” She stops at the sight of the cake. “What the hell is that?”

“Strawberry shortcake. I swear, it tastes better than it looks.”

“Did you bake it?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while, but I felt like making one. Try it.” He holds his fork up.

“This isn’t poisoned?”

“I wouldn’t eat it if it were.”

Ava’s brow shoots up.

“Try it, please?” She rolls her eyes and eats from the fork he points toward her. The cake tastes… pretty good.

“Hm… not bad. The icing is quite thin.”

“Yeah, I could’ve added more powdered sugar. Note to self.” Ava giggles.

He pulls out a second fork from the silverware drawer and hands it to his partner. They finish that slice and eat one more before John contains the cake under a plate cover, hiding it from the rest of the team in plain sight (though being a team consisting mostly of ex-spies, they are bound to find it sooner than later).

Ava follows John to his room- she finds more comfort in his room than hers, likely because her room reminds her too much of her constant pain, and it is nice to be in a semi-normal bedroom every once in a while. The warm lamplight heightens the feeling of coziness she never felt in any of the sterile labs she grew up in. She thinks back to her teenage years. Yeesh.

She flops backwards onto the bed and turns on his TV, pulling up Community while he finds a sock and tosses it into the hamper. “You should bake more. Seems you have a knack for it.”

“I probably should. It’d give me something to do beside strain my muscles hitting the punching bag.”

“You can do that, too.”

Ava sits up, and John scoots behind her and wraps his arms around her middle, pressing her back to his firm chest. She shuts her eyes and soaks in his warmth while he rests his chin on her shoulder. He turns his head to place a kiss by her ear.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Have fun today?”

“I did, thank you… it’s kind of embarrassing, but today was technically my first date.”

“Oh, yeah, the whole lab prison thing- yup.”

“Yup.” Ava crosses her arms over her chest to reach John’s biceps, squeezing the muscles as they firm up to keep their hearts from moving even an inch away from each other.

“Did you like it?”

“I did. It was fun.”

“Good…” His eyes are on the screen, but his mind is somewhere else. Ava has no need to turn and look to know that- it is commonly known around the tower that John has a habit of getting stuck in his head. The question is always what he thinks about. “Wasn’t that one kid kinda weird?”

“… Y’know what? Yeah. It was kinda weird how nonchalant he was about getting cornered by two superheroes.”

“He must be used to heroes to some degree. Hell, most New Yorkers are way too used to our shit to even care at this point.”

“I talked to Mel a couple days ago, and she told me about the drills that schools started up since the first alien attack.”

“Jesus…” John sighs and kisses Ava’s neck. “They already had fire drills and active shooter drills, now aliens?”

“I know. These generations of kids are all sorts of fucked up.”

He hums and plants kisses lower and lower, toward her shoulder. “Speaking of kids, who were you talking to at the market?”

“Oh, thank god…” Ava laughs.

“What?”

“I thought you were going to ask if I wanted any.”

John laughs, to Ava’s relief. “God no, not yet. One with my ex-wife is enough for now.” They share a laugh together.

“The mum and her daughter… they're fans of mine.” She can feels his smile growing.

“Wow! They seem nice.”

“Yeah, they were… it’s weird, though. After everything that’s happened, everything we’ve done- everything I’ve done… people look up to us.”

“… yeah.” He nuzzles further into her shoulder. She turns her head and presses a kiss in his hair.

“That means that despite everything, there are people out there who look up to you, too.” He hides his face in her shoulder. “John, two people recognized me and made pleasant conversation. They saw me for my good. If that can happen to me, it’s possible for you, too.” She brushes a hand through his hair, encouraging him to look up and meet her mossy green gaze. “You’re a good man, John, I know that. I just wish you did, too.”

He takes her hand in his and kisses her palm. “Me too. But if you believe that, I’ll take it.”

“Don’t take my word for everything.”

“Your words are my gospel, Ava.”

“Don’t ruin this with your cheese, either.”

“Oh, hardy-har.” They laugh again, and they kiss, as they have many times since North Carolina.

Their lips hold each other, and the longer they do, the deeper they go. Ava turns to face John and wrap her arms around his shoulders while he lays back on the bed and pulls her body closer, their tongues sliding against each other in a private dance. His arms refuse to let her break away, his hands roaming until one finds the skin beneath her hoodie and dives for more.

She breaks away to take the hoodie off, revealing smooth, warm skin. He gasps, freezing in awe of her toned form. His hands feel her bare shoulders and stomach and barely graze her breasts, leaving almost no patch of skin undiscovered by his touch.

He sits up, she nods, and John’s mouth moves quick to kiss her collarbone and chest. He stops to kiss and lick at one nipple, sending shock waves that straighten her spine before falling limp almost on top of him. He gives the other nipple the same treatment, and Ava grips at his shirt from behind and gasps at these new sensations. Ava’s voice fails her, the energy to speak having transferred to the fluttery feeling in her stomach… and between her thighs. Barely anyone had ever seen her reveal this much skin (let alone touch it), having been hidden by the technologically advanced clothing that has kept her molecules in place for nearly three decades.

Right now, though, she feels much better without it. His calloused hands meeting her skin for the first time feels like bliss. Her nerves betray her, though, as she shakes like a leaf from the overwhelming exposure she feels under his mouth.

He takes a moment to discard his shirt, now leveling her bareness by revealing his own scarred torso. His shoulders and chest are buffed and broad, his arms thick with muscle to match. His stomach holds hardened abs under a grown layer of fat- a perfect combination of softness and strength. The almost ginger hair across his torso fails to cover multitudes of scars that decorate him. Slash cuts, stab wounds, starbursts from bullets; each one with a story she cares not for now. His dog tags shine from the lamp light, his and Lemar’s names engraved in the metal.

“God, you’re beautiful…” she whispers. He pulls her back down, her body almost laying on his.

“Speak for yourself.” The kiss they share is filled to the brim with devotion. She moans into his mouth and her hips move on their own, slowly grinding on his thigh. The fabric of her leggings add a strange boost to the friction she sparks- this is a new feeling, and she likes it a lot. He breaks them apart and cups her cheek. “Ava, I wanna know how far we can go with this.”

“Not far. We’re fine right here.”

“You sure?”

“John, if today was my first date, what do you think this is?”

“…Am I really your first?”

“John-”

“Raised in a lab, got it.”

Ava searches John’s eyes. “Are you okay with this?

Their eyes remain locked as John slides his leg up- the leg she sits on- and she scoots up to feel his answer make stiff contact with her, barely hidden under his sweatpants.

“Absolutely.”

Their tongues meet again as Ava’s hips get back to their rhythm of slow circles, and John moans into her mouth as his hips match her. His hands lay flat on her back, and she keeps her grip on his shoulders.

They keep grinding, causing their kisses to break from heavy breaths in favor of John pulling Ava’s body flush with his own.

She whimpers into his ear as he mouths at her neck and shoulder. One hand holds her above her spinal curve, and the other slides up and presses her impossibly closer to his chest.

“That’s it, keep going… hah, you’re doing so good…” The praise only draws Ava closer to the edge. Each time their hips meet, she feels him damn near growling, and she grows breathless from panting so hard. One particular harsh thrust has her biting into his neck, and the hands on her back slide up to her shoulder and around her waist, his arms pinning her against him.

“John… John, I’m- ah! Hah…”

“I know, Ava, me too… I’m right there with you.” The two of them moan breathlessly in sync, picking up speed one last time until they both reach their peak.

She squirms on top of him while he gives a few final thrusts, drawing out their orgasm until they both feel finished. He turns his head and finds her lips, gently kissing her to ground her back to him. His lips meet her temple and forehead, and he loosens his grip on her back. She pants against his chest and revels in their contact, overwhelmed from pleasure and the feeling of safety she never thought was possible. She keeps her eyes closed as she catches her breath, following the rhythm John provides as he breathes and slides his hands up and down her spine.

“You did so good, Ava. You’re so good…” Her heart flutters from the praise, and she melts like butter against him. The TV continues the run of episodes that they both forgot about, playing right when Todd snaps at the study group and takes his turtle back.

They lay together for god knows how long until John moves to sit up, pulling Ava to grip him like a sloth as he stands and makes his way to the bathroom.

“I don’t know about you, hon, but I could go for a shower.”

“Didn’t you just have one?”

“That was before doing what we just did.”

“Ugh, stupid sweat.”

“Yeah yeah, we’re gross human beings, I know.” John sets her down on the toilet, an all too familiar setting. “…Want me to clean you, too?”

“Mm-hmm…” He plants a kiss in her hair and moves to get the water warmed up. She feels too tired to care what they do at this point- all she knows is she will take every chance she gets to have him touch her more with those rough and gentle hands.

***

Now clean and comfortable, John and Ava go back to laying together on his bed, unable to detach from each other for more than three seconds.

Community’s chaos theory episode plays on the screen- they watched the entire series together already, so Ava feels no need to focus on anything happening. His heartbeat drums under her ear. Steady and strong, its rhythm alone keeps her skin stitched together. Every so often, he squeezes her in his arms ever so slightly and presses a kiss to her head. If it were a method for putting her to sleep, it works.

Her eyes drift shut as Jeff’s jacket catches fire.

Chapter Text

Ava feels uneasy in her sleep. She fails to understand why until she wakes to John’s twitching.

One particularly harsh cry bolts her upright. She turns to find John turned away on his side, curling in on himself, his shoulders trembling from heavy sobs.

She places a hand on his shoulder and gently shakes him. “John? John, it’s okay-”

“Mama, mama, please…” He jerks away from her touch and cries. She crawls out of bed and rushes to his side, now able to see the tear-tracks on his face under the moon’s cool glow.

“John, wake up. It’s me- it’s Ava. Ava Starr, your- your girlfriend? Partner?” Her words fail to wake him- his whimpers are likely too loud in his own mind to hear her voice. He shivers and hugs himself, clawing at his own biceps.

“Mama, please, don’t leave me- don’t leave me! Mama, please!” Ava’s heart is split open. He sounds too young.

“John, I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you, I swear-!”

“Mikey- AH!” John’s eyes burst open and he jumps up. He scrambles backward until his spine meets the headboard. His hands find his hair and tug harshly, his breathing far too fast for Ava’s liking.

She moves back on the bed and scoots up to face him, her hands hovering over his. At the slightest touch, he harshly lets go of his hair and shoots up. His eyes find hers, yet he still seems lost. He keeps hyperventilating, so Ava does what she remembers. She gently takes hold of his hand, kisses his knuckle and guides it to lay on her chest, his palm splayed over her heart.

“Try to follow me. You can do it.” She takes deep slow breaths, exaggerating her chest movement, and she watches as his vision gradually clears.

He clumsily follows her movements. “That’s it, you’ve got it. Just a few more.” They continue for a few minutes, Ava connecting their foreheads about halfway through, until John feels that his lungs are clear. He opens his eyes to see Ava, a relieving and embarrassing sight to come to, because this is at least the second time she saw him panic over something she could not see. His relief doubles over when she pulls him into her arms. The knot in his chest untangles as soon as his ear finds her heartbeat, but the anxiety continues to buzz in harmony with the AC.

“We’re okay. We’re here now. I’m here.” Her voice is a symphony- a siren calling him back to comfort. He takes in her sweet citronella scent as her presence blankets over him.

John cannot help but think back to the first time she did this, back at the Hoskins house in his best friend’s childhood bedroom, and how quick she was then to help pull him out of the spiral of seeing his sister. It was whiplash, seeing Kay become so different after over twenty years. So angry and empty… just like he was. She looks so much like Mama did. He wonders how Michael would have looked had he survived his draft, likely a lot more like Dad before the treatments. John can hardly remember anymore.

Ava waits for him, ready to talk when he feels like talking, though she suspects the first thing he says will be-

“Sorry I woke you.” She was right.

“John, it’s okay. You’ve helped me for so long, I think it’s fair.”

“I know, I just… it’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. If it feels this terrible, it’s never stupid.”

It feels like deja vu, how Ava holds John against her like he does on her worst days. She used to feel guilty about going to him so often when she feels like utter shit; when her molecules burn her soul even a little bit too much. No one else in the tower can press as solid against her form as he does, not even Bucky or Bob. Bob is an excellent cuddler, though, and Bucky’s arm has a strangely magnifying effect on her form. Nowadays, she keeps a dollop of pride in the back of her mind that now instead of her solely seeking John out, they can find each other.

He snuggles closer to her, his chin finding its perch on her shoulder. He sags against her, practically melting them together, and combs one hand through her hair with his fingers. She learned that he enjoys playing with her hair a lot, probably because of how thick it is. He likes to braid it when he needs to fiddle with something, when the everyday items he would otherwise fiddle with- pens, dollar bills, his butterfly knife- were out of reach. That and/or he just likes her hair.

There was one gala they went to post-Georgia Incident when he fashioned a beautiful braided crown, and people would not stop complimenting her. They tried to ask who did it, but she upheld his image with the classic phrase, ‘No further questions.’

She wants to know about the dream he just had, about why he panicked so bad, but she will not push him to talk. She cannot push him, not until he feels ready, however long that takes. Hours, days, weeks, months-

“When I was twelve…”

Or now, apparently,

“…and Mama was still pregnant with Kay, the house caught fire. My door was open as the kitchen burned, but I slept so deep that I didn’t even hear the smoke alarm, not 'til the flames were right at my bed.” He pauses to swallow. “I saw Mama, Dad, n' Mikey all run outside. They rushed right out, and I just watched. I tried to call for 'em, but they couldn’t hear me- not 'til Mikey broke my window open n' pulled me out.” He takes a shaky breath. “I was coughin’ so bad from the smoke… it was the first time I felt ready to die.”

Ava feels silent tears drip on her shirt. She needs to focus on breathing- she would hate to cry now, John feels bad enough.

“I ended up with breathin' issues that lasted a few years. Funny enough, playin' football in high school actually helped a bit with long-term recovery, and so did combat training. I still keep an inhaler nearby out of habit.” John loosens his hold on her and lifts one arm, showing long faded marks on his skin. “These are stayin’ with me ‘til I’m gone, so will the marks on my legs.”

Burn scars. Old, stretched, faded burn scars.

Ava thought they were stretch marks when she first saw them- some mild stalking the first few months while John was working out (shirtless, of course). She traces them, moving from just next to his elbow to his underarm, going up to his shoulder, and ending right before hitting his back. Barely visible unless looking close enough, she follows an ever-so-slight patch of tension. She never would have known had he not said so.

“So that’s what these are. Is this why you’re such a stickler about the stove?”

He nods. “I make sure the extinguishers are up to date, the alarms have batteries, no clutter in the halls, doors are unlocked… I hate it, but I just can’t get over it.” He shivers under the graze of her fingers. There were few people who knew about his scars- Lemar, his parents, Mikey and Kay- and those outside of that circle who found out about them found him pitiful. He fails to see pity in Ava’s eyes, rather fascination, and something else.

“In the accident that gave me my powers, there was an explosion that burnt the building and killed my parents.” He keeps his eyes on her, the only thing that can ground him now. “I think if I never got caught in the quantum wave… maybe we would’ve matched.”

“Maybe.” His hand finds her shoulder. “I won’t let that happen, though.”

“I know.” She cups his cheek, and he leans into it on instinct. “I won’t either.”

Their foreheads meet again. They close their eyes and breathe each other’s air for God knows how long, sharing the darkness in a way only they can. Their only company is the moon, the city skyline, and the traffic miles below them. This is their moment, as still as a photograph.

A world does exists outside of them.

Bob and Yelena are asleep in each other’s arms while adult swim plays Smiling Friends on Bob’s TV. Alexei snores in his bedroom’s armchair with a paperback of The Great Gatsby resting half-open on his chest.

In the Bronx, Kate sleeps in her bed with Lucky curled up beside her, one hand in his fur. In New Jersey, Kamala’s drawings lay beside her in bed while she dreams of infinite galaxies. In Baltimore, Joaquin slouches at his workshop desk, his head in his arms and a half-finished project in front of him, and a few miles away, Isaiah watches his grandson sleep on the couch and ignores the TV playing reruns of Law & Order. In DC, Bucky and Sam lay against each other on Sam’s couch, Bucky’s arm on the coffee table nearby.

In Custer’s Grove, Leona stargazes while her parents rest peacefully one block away. In Chicago, Riri twitches in her sleep while her suit charges next to the bed. In LA, Shaun and Katy lean against each other after another successful karaoke night, and in San Francisco, Cassie stays awake tinkering with her suit.

In Wakanda, Shuri greets her kingdom for breakfast with diplomatic files and workshop formulas spread before her. In Macau, Xialing pulls up the blueprints sent by her research team of a nearby Wakandan union workstation.

In Queens, a young man lies on his mattress, eyes red and cheeks stained from a heavy past relived over and over again- a past no one else remembers. In Manhattan, Stephen notes the itch in his mind that he forgot something, but cannot for the life of him figure out what- an itch he has felt for a few years now.

But they are not John and Ava, who hold each other in a silent promise that whatever happens, they will never be alone again.

***

Yelena ever-so-gently opens the door and creeps inside, Bob watching through the crack.

The couple on the bed lay on their sides, still holding each other, and Yelena reconsiders why she came in at all. She remembers the pancake batter waiting in the kitchen, and all regards fly out the window.

She flicks John’s forehead.

“Ow! What the fuck, Lena?”

“Get up. Bob’s making pancakes.”

“I- I can make more batter later if you wanna sleep in-”

“Nope, they need to rise. They aren’t allowed to miss out on your master craft.”

“It’s just pancakes…”

John readjusts Ava so he can carry her bridal style as he sits up and stands. “You make good pancakes, Bob.”

Bob smiles shyly and heads back to the kitchen, Yelena and John following.

Alexei stuffs a whole pancake into his mouth as the (semi)younger heroes step into the scene. His stack consists of at least a dozen, each and every layer drenched in syrup. “Ah, utro dobroye! Come have pancakes.”

“You’re getting syrup in your beard, dad, it’s gross.”

John gently sets Ava down in her usual seat. He rubs her shoulder and plants a kiss in her hair, and she leans into him.

“Bobby’s makin’ pancakes. You want one?”

“Mhm… blueberry, please.”

Bob sends a thumbs up and pulls the blueberries out of the fridge. John moves to the kitchen to pull out Ava’s teabags, maintaining space for Bob to focus on his work. He chops up a bowl of pears while the kettle heats up, and watches while Ava and Yelena chat about some horror film series they were watching the other day. They laugh about how terrible the animated effects were. He loves to hear her vocal bells ring.

John would love for this moment to last forever, but the big screen in the living room pops on without warning, and Val’s ugly mug takes up the screen.

“Thunderbolts, I’ve got a new mission for you.”

“Can it wait, suchka? We’re having breakfast.”

“Lucky for you, yes it can. We’ll be having a meeting later today running through the basic notes, but long story short, sources say that the Chinese mafia you dove into last month is looking to steal Wakandan resources.”

“And why do they want us there?” John lays the knife down and moves his hands away.

“It’s a diplomatic opportunity, so hurry up and eat. I’ll be there by noon.”

The screen goes black. The teammates collectively look to each other. Bob flips Ava’s pancake. “Lena, do you want cinnamon in yours?”

“Hot sauce.”

“Hot sauce doesn’t blend with batter.”

“Fine, but make it a lot of cinnamon.”

“You want to race eating the pancakes, umnichka?”

“No thanks, dad.”

“Your loss. John Walker?”

“Thanks but no.” John sets the bowl of pear slices in front of his girlfriend and moves back to the kettle upon hearing it beep.

Bob shows off his improved baking, Yelena grumbles fondly over her father’s antics, and John steeps Ava’s tea and blends a dollop of milk and three sugars- it was six months ago that he asked and he never has to again. Ava realizes this is what domesticity and love between people looks like. This is a family, something she has not had since her parents were taken from her.

She has a new one. A stronger one. One she plans to get used to.