Claudia paused outside the door. She didn't quite know how to feel about this yet. It reminded her of the happy days living in Avengers tower, and later, at the compound. Those memories were bittersweet now that both locations and half of the people that made them special were gone. No Steve, no Nat, no Tony, no Vision, no King T'Challa. Just the people they left behind, stuck trying to figure out what to do next with the legacies they left in their hands.
She was a few minutes early. The less people were there when she arrived, the less time she spent in the direct spotlight. To her relief, as she opened the door, it was just Sam and Bucky.
"Junior! Look who made it." Bucky came to greet her.
"What's up, Gramps?" They hugged and quickly pulled away.
"Aww, my favorite and least favorite murder cyborgs are having a moment."
"Good to see you too, Sam"
While Bucky understood the concept of a quick hug of greeting, Sam milked it. Claudia waited a moment for him to let go, making pained eye contact over his shoulder with Bucky, who shrugged as if to say, "just grin and bear it, kid."
"So," she said when Sam released her. "Who all is coming?"
"Rhodes is coming, and so is Wanda, last I heard, but who knows about that chick. Shuri is definitely coming, and as annoying as he is, we invited Spider-Boy—the things we do for you—and he unfortunately said he's coming. Like I promised, a small party."
"You do realize that Peter and I are the same age, right?"
"Yeah, and I'm 122." Bucky retorted, wandering over to the bar and pouring drinks. "Thor's like, thousands of years old. When I was your age, the biggest fights I was in were dragging the little Steve the world forgot out of grimy alleys, and the next thing I knew, we were fighting in a world war, and there weren't even aliens."
"We're in plenty big enough fights." Claudia leaned against the other side of the bar.
"Just you wait. I'm pretty sure it just escalates the longer you live, and you sure started with a bang."
She flexed a bandaged hand. He slid a glass over to her.
She raised her glass. "To the downward spiral of time?"
He paused in thought. "To survival."
"To survival."
With a quick toast, they both downed their glasses. The problem with being super soldiers against their will was that alcohol would have no effect on their attempt to survive a night of friendly socialization. All it did was burn going down and make you feel like you were doing something to numb the pain, even if it never really could go away.