Chapter One | Meeting The Crew
Al
The hands clutching Alaina's shirt trembled. "I don't think I can do this, Sammy," she said, balancing her phone between her ear and shoulder. She threw the shirt into one of the many washing machines inside the laundromat. "I know I've said a lot of bad shit about them, but I can't meet The Avengers. I just can't." The man sitting on the bench to her left gave her a strange look, snorting when she met his expression with a glare.
"Take a breath, babe," Sam said reassuringly over the phone. "If I can hang out with them and not have an anxiety attack, you can, too. I'm just an average Joe, remember?"
"You're a fucking superhero!" she exclaimed. "You literally fly, with wings."
The man to her left scoffed, muttering, "Fuckin' crazy bitch."
Al turned to look at him in disgust. "If you've got a problem, say it a bit fucking louder, please," she snapped, shaking her head as she turned back to the task at hand. "You've saved lives, Sam," Al said a little quieter. "You've saved the world, you're friends with Tony Stark, for god's sake." Picking up a pair of socks from her basket, she glanced down and saw that they were Thor socks, with little Mjolnir's scattered across them. Jesus, this is embarrassing. "I'm gonna have to cancel, babe. Just tell them I got food poisoning or something. People never question explosive diarrhoea."
"Al." Sam chuckled. "They want to meet you, superhero or not. Obviously, I'm not gonna force you to stay if you're uncomfortable, but I am gonna ask you to stay for at least an hour." Al blew out a heavy breath, slamming the machine door shut. The clothes started to spin, so she walked backwards until the backs of her knees hit the bench, collapsing onto it. The man who called her a crazy bitch was now gone, thank goodness. "Clint is super stoked, won't shut up about how boring I am for not discussing every weapon known to man."
Al rolled her eyes. "Emotional manipulation," she murmured. "That's actually emotional manipulation and I will not stand for it."
"Why? Because you have a hard-on for the weakest Avenger?"
"Samuel, you and I have talked about this before. The weakest Avenger is Iron Man and nothing you say can..." she stopped herself. "He doesn't, like, listen in on conversations, right?"
"Nope, Jarvis only monitors calls and deletes them after 30 days," Sam confirmed, making Al sigh in relief. "But I already told him your very strong opinions on the matter, so no need to worry, babe."
"Sam?"
"Hm?"
"You're a dick."
It was hitting 9 p.m. by the time Alaina reached the Avengers Tower, and she was already feeling low. She had some cheap beer - like, below the barrel beer - and microwaved mac n cheese for her dinner so her hunger was, well, still prominently there. After Sam nicely reminded her that it was a movie night and she didn't need to dress up nicely, she threw on a pair of leggings, and an old baggy jumper with a tank top underneath. The jumper had no zipper but it was one of her favourites, extremely soft on the inside and warm to wear in NY weather.
Walking through New York made her realise how much she hated everyone living in it. Not owning a car had absolutely no uses apart from making sure you're keeping fit, but Al wished that was the reason she didn't own one. Simply, she barely had enough money for food let alone a full working vehicle. Despite just being a pedestrian, cars still beeped at her, one guy almost ploughed right over her and had the audacity to swear at her... god, she was going to go insane.
Al sent Sam a text saying she was here, standing in front of the huge entrance unsurely. In photos, it looked big. The view from her apartment window, yes, it was still big. But up close, staring up at the endless floors, it was bigger than big. Ginormous. Phenomenal. Everyone huge word under the sun.
Coming down now, Sam texted back. Give me two mins, Clint won't shut up.
Al breathed out a chuckle, shoving her phone into her coat pocket. She held her hands to stop them from shaking and rocked on the heels of her feet, waiting for him to show up.
This wasn't a good idea, she already knew it. Alaina didn't have a problem with The Avengers like a lot of people did. None of her family died during the alien invasion, not like she had many living in America anyway, Tony Stark only mildly fucked her over with his nuclear plans while she was serving and almost cost her and Sam their jobs, but she wasn't bitter about that, and she wasn't really affected by the many men that have tried screwing (figuratively, not literally) Iron Man. The only thing that had an impact on her was Manhattan when The Winter Soldier and Hydra came back to kill everyone.
While Sam was out with Captain America, fighting the enemy, Alaina thought he was out of town to see a friend. He told her he was gonna have a few days off to relax, but when she got a call saying that Sam Wilson was in critical condition, her heart shattered. She never blamed Sam for his behaviour, only Steve Rogers. Maybe it was unfair, but it nearly cost her best friend's life.
He was on the top floor and when Al tried going there, a man with an eye patch stopped her.
"I apologise, Miss Gunley," the man said, "but Mr. Wilson does not want any visitors right now." Looking back, Al realised that the blonde man stood next to him was Steve Rogers.
"Well, you better tell his dumb ass that I just ran three miles to see him..."
"He does not want to be bothered," eye patch guy told her, holding out his arm to stop her walking by. "He's okay, Miss Gunley, but he needs time to heal."
"Yeah," she scoffed, "and if you don't get the hell out of my way, I'll jab your other eye out."
Threatening Director Nick Fury, she later learned him to be? Not her proudest moment, she had to admit. But hey, it got her through.
"Hey, there." Sam appeared, leaning his arm against the open door, grinning widely. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Alaina rolled her eyes, shoving past him. "I'm here because my asshole friend decided it would be fun to torture me."
"Hey, if I was going to torture you, I'd strap you to a chair and make you watch a DC movie that isn't Wonder Woman." He led her to the elevator that was bigger than her bedroom. "Take us to the main floor, Jarvis," Sam said when they were in.
"Woah." Al looked around, wide-eyed as the elevator began to ascend. "First of all, what kind of elevator has sofas?"
"For when Sir is too drunk to stand, Miss Gunley."
"What the fuck?!" Alaina screeched, backing up into Sam with her fist raised.
"It's Stark's A.I., moron," he reminded her, lightly shoving her away.
Al sighed in relief, lowering her arm. A reminder would have been nice.
"I do profusely apologise, Miss Gunley," the A.I. stated. "I was warned about your anxiety and PTSD, so I should have known better." Al frowned. A robot voice just... knew about her anxiety? "I am reading that your hands are trembling, and you are beginning to sweat. Dr. Banner will kindly make you a cup of herbal tea, if you would like me to warn him ahead of time, Miss Gunley?"
Al looked down and saw that her hands were indeed shaking. One of the many benefits of having anxiety was that it triggered your fight or flight response, and whenever Alaina wanted to run in the other direction her hands would display that. It was one of the ways Sam could read her like an open book. If she was clutching her fingers to hide the trembling, he'd know she wanted to leave and take her out for a breather. "Um, no thank you, Jarvis. But thank you anyway."
"We're gonna take it slow, okay? You doing alright?" Sam asked her quietly.
"Yeah." She smiled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "It's only Earth's Mightiest Heroes, you know, the same people who fought a Norse God, aliens, a weird ass machine that tried killing everyone..."
"You're overthinking again, Al," Sam interrupted her, raising an eyebrow in her direction.
"Yeah, well, when you're not a superhero, you're going to be intimidated in front of a bunch of people who saved the world multiple times."
"You've saved lives too," Sam pointed out.
Alaina shrugged in response.
The elevator doors slid open and Sam stepped out with confidence, and she decided to match his step, head held up, shoulders loose and relaxed, expression soft and friendly... First impressions mattered, after all.
Stepping onto the main floor, Al immediately felt like a lost animal setting foot in the wrong environment. The floor wasn't even something straight out of a magazine, it was better than anything designers could conjure. The first she saw was the giant bar that stretched across the space, the glass shelves lined with expensive-looking bottles and pretty glasses with designs scratched into the surface.
On said bar was Tony Stark himself. He was thankfully facing away from her - she couldn't handle meeting the billionaire playboy first - but next to him was a familiar head of blonde hair, facing her direction. Steve Rogers. He was smiling at whatever Tony was saying, shaking his head with a glint in his eye. Bruce Banner was on the other side of Tony, leaning forward with his elbows braced on the bar's surface.
"Here," Sam said, gently grabbing her arm. "We'll get drinks."
"Nononono," Alaina hissed, pulling away when she realised who was stood behind the bar. Clint fucking Barton was stood behind the bar. "What happened to taking it slow?"
"You're gonna just sit here until they notice you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She glanced over his shoulder and saw that Steve caught sight of them, gave Tony a little nudge and nodded in their direction. So much for staying hidden.
Clint noticed the gesture and looked over with a bright smile, waving with a glass of brown liquid in his hand. "Come, join us, degenerates!"
Sam laughed and nodded encouragingly to Alaina, whose feet were planted on the tiled floor. She could feel the Avengers' stares burning into her head. "Okay," she whispered, re-loosening her rigid shoulders. "I can do this," she assured herself. "Strong independent woman and all that shit."
"You've got this," was the last thing Sam said before turning away from her and making his way over to his friends. Al followed him, trying not to trail behind too far. It would better if Sam simply introduced them, rather than having to go through the awkward interactions of small talk. Well, Tony Stark didn't seem like a small talk kind of guy.
"Already got your beer, Sam," Clint stated when they approached, near slamming a bottle of green beer on the counter. "And you!" He dramatically swung his head towards Al, who instinctively nudged herself closer to Sam. "Sam's held you in high regard, so my standards are bigger than Stark's ego." Tony, unbothered by the mild insult, shrugged.
"Uh..." She gaped at him, both in shock and admiration, but mostly shock. Hawkeye just said that to her. Hawkeye said. To her. The Hawkeye just spoke to her and - oh, Jesus Christ - she could literally just reach out and touch him, right now.
"Dude." Sam shook his head at the archer, who shrugged with raised eyebrows. "At least let me do introductions and shit before you start screaming at the people I like. Al," he pushed her forward slightly, "Clint, Bruce, Tony and Steve." He gestured to each person, as if they actually needed an introduction. Tony had a side-smirk plastered on his face and gave a small wave, Bruce smiled warmly which made Al immediately drawn to the man, Clint waved excitedly like a puppy, and Steve gave a tight smile. She guessed that Sam told her about her negative feelings towards the man. "And guys, this is Alaina. But call her Al or Ally." He grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Call me Ally, I'll rip off appendages," she warned lightly, tapping Sam's back where her hand hung before pulling it away. "Doctor Banner," she greeted first, deciding he would be the safest option. "I've heard so much about you. It's good to finally meet the man."
Bruce gave a warm smile, accepting Alaina's outstretched hand. His hands were soft with no callouses, and a little clammy, but not to the point of it being sweaty. "You too, Miss Gunley." He let his hand rest back on his thigh. "Sam talks highly of you."
Alaina smiled, feeling his kind expression seep into her own. "Yeah, he tends to do that." She chuckled. "I'll be honest, I've never been a huge science person but you always find a way to make the dullest topics interesting. Your book on nuclear physics is one of my favourites."
"What the hell is happening?" Stark cut in, looking utterly lost. "Sam, I thought you said she was cool."
"Because I'm not drooling all over you?" Al asked, tilting her head towards him.
"Uh, no." He scoffed. "Because no one ever drools over Brucie first. No offence, green man." He patted the doctor for good measure.
"Come on, Tony," Steve sighed. "She just got here. Let's not try to overwhelm her."
"Usually, the non-overwhelming comes from introducing people to Barton or Banner." Stark cocked an eyebrow, raising his glass to gesture in Al's direction. "But this one thinks that I'm- I'm the weakest Avenger."
Clint, who unfortunately took a swig of his drink as Tony spoke, almost spat his drink out at the comment, covering his mouth just in time.
"Dude!" Al hissed, elbowing Sam in the ribs.
"Hey, you said it."
"Finally!" Barton exclaimed, grinning like mad. "Someone who actually speaks sense!"
Stark stared jaw-slacked at his friends as they suppressed smiles, but Clint was outright laughing in his face.
Steve Rogers decided it was time to cut in, shifting to the edge of his stool and holding out his hand when the two toddlers started arguing, waving their arms around enthusiastically. "Miss Gunley," he started. "It's nice to meet the face behind all the stories Sam told us."
Alaina had to force herself to smile, pushing down her feelings of resentment towards the man. He wasn't a bad person, she had to remind herself. "Captain Rogers," she said, curtly shaking his hand, trying to hide the shaking in her fingers. "It's good to meet you, too." She pulled away rather abruptly, earning a sharp nudge from Sam on her left side. Okay, she could be friendly. "Sam used to be a huge fan of you, you know. Had a poster up in our room in college, always said he wanted to be the black Captain America. Or the first black superhero, or... something. He was always at the gym, wanting to match your physique."
Steve looked at Sam quizzically, a smile hinting on the lines of his lips.
"Can't blame me, man. Your bicep is the width of my head." Sam shrugged and turned to Al. "But if I could be the black Captain America..."
"You could be the black Black Widow?" Clint cut in, sounding far too enthusiastic. "Wow, that's such a great name. I'm a literature genius. Come at me with your MIT, Stark. Ooooh, wait, black Scarlett Witch! That's, like, two colours." Al pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing out loud. He was far less intimidating than she was expecting. "Hey, if you could have a superhero name, what would it be?" he asked Alaina.
"Uhh," she responded dumbly. "I... well, I don't have any special abilities to link it to, so..."
"Bull. Shit," Stark cut in, tipping his head back. "You're a badass fighter, a weapons master, super intelligent-"
"I wouldn't go that far," she interrupted, wringing her fingers together. Was Tony Stark complimenting her on her brains? Man, she could die right now and be very happy doing so.
"How many degrees and masters did you get in how many years?"
"Listen..." Alaina pursed her lips.
"A Psychology and Child Counselling masters degree, a regular degree in Health and Social Care, you specialise in body language and behavioural studies, got full GPA's, straight-A student, became a lecturer for a 6 months, all before you joined the army at 22." Tony held his hands up. "Boom."
Alaina shrugged, a little bashful at the wide-eyed looks she was getting from the men around her. "It doesn't sound as impressive when you compare it to Doctor Banner's 7 PhD's, and the fact you graduated MIT at 15 and got over 10 majors."
Tony waved his hand like he was dismissing the idea. "But I didn't do it in 5 years," he pointed out.
"Yeah, you only got 10 majors in 6 years." Clint fake gagged, rolling his eyes. "But that's impressive," he said to Al. She flushed bright red at his words. "Kinda surprised Sam hasn't mentioned that before."
"Wait, so how did you know...?"
"Want a drink?" Clint asked, cutting her off with a bright smile.
"Yeah, sure." She snapped out of her stupor when the man proceeded to look at her expectantly. "Oh, uh. Bourbon. Or anything in the whiskey family, really."
"My kinda gal." Stark nodded in approval, turning his back to her to resume his conversation with Steve. It was slightly rude, but she guessed it wasn't personal, but more of a Tony Stark-esque thing.
"So." Clint slammed a glass on the bar and filled three fingers of it with bourbon. Al decided to keep her eyes away from the label, too self-conscious of her own earnings to know the price of a single bottle of alcohol in Tony Stark's possession. "Take a seat."
Alaina, rather awkwardly, pushed herself on the empty seat next to Bruce, mentally screaming at Sam who was speaking with Steve and Tony to save her. You're just sat next to The Incredible Hulk and Hawkeye, no big deal at all. No big deal.
"I thought there'd be more of you down here," Al said, silently asking where everyone was.
"Oh, right, yeah." Clint shook his head, obviously drinking a little too heavily for his own good. "Thor is still in Asgard with Loki, Wanda and Vision are on vacation somewhere super nice, and Tasha's upstairs getting ready. Wants to make a good impression on you or something."
Al's eyebrows rose dramatically. "Tasha- as in... Natasha, Black Widow?" she asked. Clint nodded. "Natasha Romanoff wants to make a good impression on me?"
Bruce Banner, sat on her right, smiled at her like he knew something she didn't.
"She's like a really burnt marshmallow, you know?" Clint said, swaying a bit. No, Clint. I do not know. "Also, before we get started, I gotta ask about your name."
"Gunley, right?" Al asked, smiling a little dumbly. "Yeah, got a bunch of shit for that when I served, especially since I was the Sargent and known as the master of guns. It was mostly the new guys that made stupid jokes, but they soon learned it wasn't funny." She glanced over Bruce's shoulder to Sam, who was giving Stark the I-hope-you-didn't-just-say-that look. Usually, she would join in with his conversation and see what Sam looked pissed about, but she was talking to Hawkeye for fucks sake. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. "The only time I've ever laughed at one of those jokes was when me, Sammy and a few other guys went out for dinner and drinks. They got hammered, started messing around, a salt shaker ended up breaking and I got that shit all over me, I swear it was in my hair for weeks. Sammy just paused and stared at me with this stupid fucking grin on his face, pointed at me and shouted 'watch out for the 'a-salt rifle!'. I swear," she choked back a laugh, "I think I snorted some salt I was laughing so hard. Guess I was a bit drunk, too, looking back."
"Man, you've got to give me all the dirt on Wilson." Clint chuckled before downing his drink. Al decided to follow suit with her own because why the hell not? "You've known each other your entire lives, yeah? Gotta give me something good. Just a lil tease."
"Didn't you say something about testing weapon knowledge?" she tilted her head.
Clint chewed his lip in thought, narrowing his eyes in her direction. "Okay, okay, we'll start simple," he said. "Is it better to have an assault rifle or sniper rifle in a doomsday situation?"
"Zombies or robots taking over the world?" she asked.
"Does it make a difference?" he countered.
Al gaped at him. "As a gun expert, I hope you know that it damn does make a difference."
"T'was a test, young padawan," he jeered, reaching over to pat her shoulder. Hawkeye just touched her, Jesus Haymitch Christ. "But I'd like an answer to both."
"Well," Al began, tapping her fingers against her empty glass. "In an robot-taking-over-planet-earth situation, assuming they're AI's and are super duper smart, I'd want a sniper rifle." She noticed his eyebrows raise minutely. "Rushing in with an assault rifle isn't the best idea because, well, they could easily overpower you up close. They're smart, zombies aren't. And they'd probably have weapons attached to them so, like I just said, going in up close isn't a great idea. However, with zombies, going in on them with an AR will be more effective because it'll take them out quicker. Or just throwing a shit ton of grenades." She clicked her fingers into finger guns. "Boom."
"Don't get too cocky now," Clint leaned over the bar and tapped her forehead, a little clumsily might she add. And for no particular reason. "This is just the start."
Author's Note: When I first wrote this, it was 2,000 words. Now, it's 4,000. The power of editing is real.
Edited: 18.08.18 (what a great number).
