A/N: This was one of my favorite chapters to write, man. I never got to explore this with Aj in Small Fry (for those who read that). Lemme know what you think!


Chapter 19:

Treading Water in a Turbulent Ocean


"I sat with my anger long enough, until she told me her real name was grief." –Unknown


My new schedule started with waking up at 6 in the morning to work out. It was like all those times I made fun of Steve for being up so early had come back to bite me in the ass. At least now though, I got to see what made him so sweaty. All I did was some weightlifting and cardio, but this guy ran 30 miles around the city then came back to the training floor to lift 12 times the weight I did, and do some sparring either with the spies or with one of his specially designed punching bags. Just watching him was exhausting.

After working out and cleaning up, I'd spend the next few hours trying to learn how to be a public relations specialist. It involved a lot of googling and YouTube videos which was a little sad on my part. I had already called Beth to let her know she had the job and would start with the New Year. She requested a little information on the Avengers to start spit balling ideas and I happily sent her a few fun facts about the band of merry assholes.

Then by 11:30, I was out of the Tower to talk to Bucky. Talking in the Tower seemed too risky for me. I know JARVIS didn't record anything in our private rooms, but I was still paranoid about it. Luckily, the Avengers recognized that alone time made me incredibly happy and had stopped following me out to the coffee shop I'd go to for my talks.

And talking with Bucky was fun.

Obviously, my main objective was to convince him to come home, but the past three days had been nice. We'd stay on the phone with one another over an hour each time and usually I stopped us because I was afraid an Avenger would come looking for me. Plus, we had both figured out texting too. It was his first time texting, and he picked it up quick whereas I had to struggle to get re-used to typing texts out on something that wasn't a smart phone.

All of that had gone well though. It had been a good week, but now it was Friday. Friday, December 19th, a week from Christmas, and I was spiraling. I expected it. I knew today was going to be a terrible day, it always was, but somehow despite knowing that it still felt like all the air had been punched from my lungs the moment I woke up.

Sixteen years ago today, I lost my mom.

I could still remember the day clearly as if it happened yesterday. Over breakfast we had been talking about going to see a Christmas lights show they always held right outside of my town. It was Aubrey and mine's favorite Christmas tradition. We'd pile in the car and drive through the lights wide eyed and enraptured. We were talking about going, and mom threw up at the table. She hadn't been sick before, there was no warning. Instead of going to see Christmas lights that night, we all sat in a hospital room while my mom slipped away from us. The doctors said it was a bad bug that had gone septic and damaged her organs beyond what they could save.

We didn't celebrate Christmas that year. Dad had tried, but it didn't pan out. He ended up getting drunk at the dining room table, and I held Aubrey while she cried.

"Ms. Bradshaw, Ms. Romanof would like to know if you are on your way." JARVIS said. I didn't immediately answer. I had woken up at 5:45 to get ready but instead I just sat in my bed staring at the wall. "Ms. Bradshaw, your vitals are stable so I feel no need to alert the Setting Sun protocol, but are you feeling well? You have been staring at the same spot for a prolonged period of time."

"I'm fine, J." I replied and rolled out of bed. "Tell her I'll be there soon."

"Of course."

I quickly changed into a sports bra and a pair of yoga pants. This was the earliest I had been up on this day since it happened. The idea was that if I stayed in bed for as long as possible, unconscious to the world around me, then the day wouldn't be so long. I could cut down the 24 hours into 15.

The training floor, as usual, was playing music. Not at Tony or my level, but more as background noise. Clint and Natasha were sparring on the main training mat. I loved watching the two of them fight each other. It was like a work of art, a dance, the two of them knew what the other would do before they did it. Most of their fight ended up being internal because of it. Just trying to outthink the other.

Rather than stop to greet them or watch for a moment, I just moved to the treadmill. This could work. When my body was moving, I could turn my mind's volume down a couple notches. I spent a few minutes stretching before jumping on and cranking it higher than I usually did. My little trick didn't work unless I was in at least a little pain.

I wondered what my mom would think of me if she could see me now. Sure, the fancy job and nice clothes would be something to preen at, but the rest of it? When I was a kid getting into fist fights with other kids on the playground for picking on my sister, it was my mom who never liked it. Dad always thought it was great that I was swing first on any punk ass kid who tried to mess with us, but mom hated it. She'd scold me to high heaven. Hell, when my dad told her he had signed me up for my first fighting lessons she had nearly lost her mind. What would she think of her little Aimee now?

How would she feel about the fact that I liked the way it felt when my fist made contact with my enemy's face? That I enjoyed the way my grin in the ring could make grown men tremble? I was the queen of that ring because I was ruthless.

I cranked the speed up one more level and focused on the beat of the music and each slap of my foot against the treadmill. After twenty minutes of that I was a sweating, panting mess, but I was distracted and that was the point.

"Aj!" Natasha snapped and her face appeared in my peripheral vision.

My eyes widened and my foot stumbled. My hands shot out in panic to catch myself before my face slammed into the speeding treadmill, but arms wrapped around my midsection and Natasha slammed her hand down on the emergency stop. I sucked in a sharp breath and shook my head.

"We were calling you. Didn't you hear?" Clint's voice came from behind me. He had jumped onto the side portions of the treadmill to catch me.

He pulled me upright and I shakily steadied myself. Both of them stared at me in confusion and I spent a minute catching my breath before speaking, "Sorry…I was…I was in the zone. Runner's high or…or whatever."

The spies gave each other a disbelieving glance that I chose to ignore. Natasha nodded her head to me, "Are you feeling alright? We can skip weightlifting today."

"Nope." I replied. "I mean, I am fine. So, nope to skipping let's just—Let's go."

I moved toward the weights without waiting for them. There was no time to be idle. Today, I was like a shark. Forward motion or death. I stretched my arms and shoulders while walking over to the weights. Yesterday had been core work, which I was learning was the bane of my existence, but today was arms.

"J, bring up arms day." I called out.

The mirror that covered the wall by the weights also served as a screen. JARVIS pulled up the work-out walkthrough and it appeared in the corner of the mirror in light blueprint. It was in checklist form and anytime I finished with one it would go gray to let me know where I was. You don't see that at your local Fitness Planet.

Natasha came up beside me, pulling up her own list, and we began to work out side by side. We talked as we worked, we always did, but I think she could tell something was off. I tried to laugh at the right times and reply like I normally would but even I knew I sounded robotic at best.

"Morning."

I glanced over to see Steve greeting us. He shot me a smile that I tried my best to return. Steve raised an eyebrow at me, and I quickly looked away and focused on the bicep curls I was working on. Natasha spoke up, "You're running late, Rogers. Fossil get a slow start?"

"Funny." Steve chuckled. "I added a mile."

"What're you trying to compensate for, Cap?" Clint teased. Through the mirror, I watched as Steve shook his head, threw his sweat towel at Clint's face, and then lunge to attack. Clint swiped it away and rolled back to dodge, "That's fucking cheating!"

Natasha and I went back to small talk as we worked. If you asked me twenty minutes from now what we were talking about I wouldn't be able to say. I stared at myself in the mirror while doing my set of shoulder presses. My hair was so much longer than I usually kept it. I had it braided back, and the braid was long enough that it could sit over my shoulder. Minus that one scar, my souvenir from Russia, my skin was unmarred by injury.

I didn't look anything like my mom though.

Maybe that was for the best. How much harder would it be if every day I looked into a mirror and only saw her looking back? Her hair had been fair, a dirty blonde, that naturally curled in beautiful waves. Her eyes had been darker than mine. Not quite so stark and never filled with the kind of anger that always seemed to boil in mine. She had freckles like I did, but I knew most of the freckles on the bridge of my nose and shoulders came from being in the sun. Not genetics. I could always pretend though. Pretend I shared that trait with her.

I put the weights I had away and moved to the bench. Natasha swept by me and stood at the head of it with a raised eyebrow, "I told you not to do this without a partner."

"I was just about to call you." I lied. It had slipped my mind.

Natasha helped me place weights on the bar and I laid down with my grip in place. She stood above me, hands at the ready just in case, and I pushed off the rack to begin doing my first set of bench presses. I had put just a little more weight on then the last arm day and I could feel the ache every time I pushed it up.

'Just be you.'

That was the last thing she told me. To just be me. I loved my mom and I know its poor to speak ill of the dead, but what kind of fucked up last words is that? Just be me? That's the kind of motivational bullshit they put on middle school posters to make going through that age a little better. Just be me? It was her last moment on Earth and she told her ten-year-old daughter to just be herself. The last thing she told Aubrey was to look out for me, which was a fucking joke and a half now, and that she was proud of her. Proud of her. Mom was proud of perfect Aubrey, but I just needed to be myself. Right. I could feel that same, old anger boil in my blood at the thought. She could have said anything. In her dying breath, she chose to give me that bullshit. Not an 'I'm proud of you too' or 'You're so strong' or even an 'I love you'. No, just a fucking

My grip slipped and my shaky arms couldn't catch the bar hovering over my head. I let out a gasp and closed my eyes, but I wasn't met with an untimely and embarrassing end. My eyes fluttered open and I watched as Natasha pulled the heavy bar back up to the rack. A small breath of relief left me, but it was short lived.

"What the hell was that?" Natasha yelled. "I told you to rack up. Why didn't you?!"

To be honest, I hadn't even heard her tell me to do that. I was vaguely aware now that I had gone well beyond the typical set. I pushed myself up into a seated position and met the gaze of Clint and Steve who had stopped sparring to look over at us.

"Aj!?" Natasha pressed.

"Sorry!" I snapped with more venom then I meant to. Her eyes widened and even more anger flooded my system. I tore my eyes away from her and snatched my sweat towel from the floor. Quickly, I jumped up, wiped my face with it, then threw it over my shoulder. "I'm done for today."

I hurried back toward the elevator. Steve and Clint both called out after me, but I ignored it. Anything I said now would just come out venomous again, and they didn't deserve that.

It wasn't them I was angry at.


"Aj!" Steve called out, but her tight shoulders didn't even flinch. She stepped into the elevator, kept her gaze down, and slammed her hand against a button. The doors closed and for a shocked minute the three of them were just quiet.

Clint made a humming noise, "You know, I'm just now realizing that's the first time she's ever raised her voice at any of us. Like that, I mean. She yells at Tony all the time, but that's different."

Steve turned to face Natasha who had walked over to them, "What happened?"

"Don't look at me." Natasha replied. She crossed her arms, "She was off this morning when she came in, and late, but nothing happened."

"She's stuck in her head about something." Clint added. "She nearly face planted on the treadmill too."

Steve shook his head, "I'm gonna go check on her."

Clint and Natasha both grabbed his arms when he was only a step away and he shot them both a look of annoyance. Clint looked to the redhead and she sighed, "Just give her a minute to cool down. She's probably going straight to her shower right now anyways."

As much as it bothered him to just stand here while he knew Aj was beating herself up about something, he also knew they had a very good point. Whatever was going on had her really worked up. More so than he had seen before. This wasn't just a sadness either. Aj was pissed. She had told him, in various stories, about her wild temper, but Steve almost couldn't believe those stories. Sure, he had seen her fight that Russian woman in the video and he had seen her, teeth bared and angry, as she beat the woman into the ground. That seemed like a lifetime ago though. That wasn't the Aj he saw day to day at the Tower.

"I guess she was a little off last night." Steve admitted.

"What do you mean?" Clint asked.

Steve had thought she was just tired. Aj had been fine, but as the night went on she had gotten quieter. He wished he had called her out on it last night. Maybe this morning wouldn't have been so bad. He crossed his arms with a sigh, "She was just quiet. It felt…off, but I assumed she was just tired. This is the first week of her working out every morning."

"Maybe she got into a fight with her little crush." Clint shrugged. Steve's eyes snapped to Clint in surprise and Natasha rolled her eyes with a sigh. Clint quickly backpedaled, "The little crush that definitely doesn't exist. I mean, crush? What crush?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Steve questioned.

"It's nothing. He's got no competition on you, Cap." Clint grinned and lightly slapped his chest with the back of his hand. Steve shot him a glare and he took a step back with hands raised in mock surrender.

Natasha stepped in, "It is nothing. You know how she goes out for coffee every morning? And is gone for like an hour?" Steve nodded. He had actually asked to go with her one morning and she stumbled over an excuse. He assumed she wanted alone time and let it go. "Well, I think she's using that time to talk to a guy she knew from high school. They've reconnected."

"Who is this guy?"

"He's safe. Some southern boy turned sheriff of a small town in buttfuck nowhere." Clint shrugged then narrowed his eyes, "Wait, I guess I shouldn't call it buttfuck nowhere, it's technically Aj's hometown, but you get my point."

Natasha held her hand up, "And there's nothing going on. Anytime I bring it up, she stresses that it's just old friends catching up."

"Right." Steve nodded and cleared his throat. This didn't bother him. This shouldn't bother him. He was Aj's friend and his focus should be on making sure that she was emotionally and mentally doing well. The urge to pick a fight with a man he's never met should not be bubbling up in the back of his mind. "Right, um, so do you think that they, um they—you know, got into a fight or…?"

Clint turned to Natasha, "Oh my God, Tash, we need to get him to Bruce." He swiveled his gaze back to him with a smirk, "Steve, you're turning green! Think it's a gamma radiation leak of some kind or…"

Steve rolled his eyes, "Fuck off, Barton."

"It's ok, Mr. Rogers." Clint replied softly, "You're still number one in her heart. I can send you the video clip of her drooling over your costume! I saved it for blackmail purposes, but if you wanna add it to your growing collection of—"

Steve lunged forward to attack and Clint backpedaled with the startled squeak of a 12-year-old girl. He smirked and continued to attack the archer. Steve needed to give Aj time to cool off before he checked up on her and what better way to wait than blowing off steam.


Tony had a meeting with some contractors for the Avengers Compound this morning that I had completely and totally forgotten about. In fact, I didn't actually even remember it until it was too late. The meeting was in thirty minutes and I was still getting ready.

I tried to button up my shirt, but my hands were shaking, and I fumbled twice before just ripping the shirt off my body and throwing it to the ground in a huff, "Fine. I'll wear a fucking sweater."

Shirtless and angry, I crossed the room to my closet and pulled on the first sweater I touched. When I spun around to leave the closet, I slammed my foot into the doorway and pain shot up my leg. Oh, you gotta be shitting me. I barked out a few choice curse words, and when JARVIS called out to ask if I was alright I told him I was and that he better not activate any sort of Setting Sun protocols.

Thankfully, JARVIS listened, and I was on my way up to the penthouse. This was fine. I was fine. Today was my first time since high school being fully conscious and sober through the anniversary of my mom's death, but it was fine. If I could handle Boss being a complete and total dick to me for five years then I could handle this.

I got up to the penthouse and jogged over to the lab where I knew Tony wouldn't be ready for anything. When I stuck my head in, my guess was confirmed. Tony was in pajama pants while working on Peter's suit with Bruce beside him helping him. I cleared my throat and they both looked over with me.

"Morning, Aj." Bruce greeted.

"Hey, Bruce." I sighed and looked to Tony, "We have a meeting with contractors in", I glanced at my watch, "Twenty minutes. You need to go get ready."

Tony groaned, "But mooooooom…"

"Tony." I snapped and both men sent me a curious glance.

They shared another look with one another before Tony threw whatever he had in his hand onto the counter and stood up, "Fine, fine. Meet you down there. Coffee?"

"Yes." I replied and pulled out of the lab. As long as he was getting ready, I'd fetch him whatever he wanted. Sal was still on medical leave. Tony had told him not to come back until well past New Years and though Sal complained about it, his husband just thanked Stark and the two went on some sort of vacation. That meant only Sal's employees were down at his stall, but I didn't like going there without him there. Anytime I even got close, all I could think of was watching Sal collapse.

So, these days, I just made coffee in the penthouse kitchen. Tony kept some good stuff up here anyways. I went about brewing a fresh pot since I was pretty sure the one there was made at some weird time of night knowing Tony and Clint. While it brewed, I opened the cabinet to grab one of Tony's mugs. It was a white one with 'I LOVE IRON MAN' on it in all capital letters. When I set it down though I realized the mug had been used and not washed.

"Who the hell…" I mumbled and carried it over to the sink.

My brain was trying to come up with a way to apologize to Natasha for snapping at her without having to explain why I snapped at her. Something told me the super-secret agent who loved answers wasn't going to make it easy. It might be best to wait until tomorrow to apologize. December 20th was always a better day.

The mug slipped from my fingers, I was in too much of a rush and I used too much soap, and it shattered in the sink into three separate pieces. This is why I fucking stayed unconscious on this day. The universe liked to kick me when I was down. Anytime I felt like I was at rock bottom emotionally it liked to walk up to me, throw a shovel in my hands, and force me to dig.

I slammed my hands on either side of the sink. Every heartbeat shot more anger through my body as I tried to clean up the mess I had made. In the process of throwing away the broken ceramic my hand tightened around a piece a little too much and I felt it cut into my skin. I hissed in annoyance and dropped the piece. It was nothing. A scratch. An inch long slice that was barely even deep. It was hardly even bleeding, but the sight of red set me off. I was like a bull in that sense. All it took was that familiar color and I snapped.

I grabbed a glass cup, left by the sink to dry, spun on my heel and then threw it as hard as I could against the fridge. It exploded into bits with a satisfying smash. The release was momentarily gratifying, but it faded as quick as it had come. I bit down on my quivering lower lips and slumped down to the ground. I buried my face into my knees and tried to control my shaky breaths.

She was gone. Sixteen years had passed and it still fucking hurt. I was still angry, and I didn't even know who I was angry at. There was no person I could point a finger at. It's not like I could be furious at the bacteria that destroyed her system. It felt wrong to be angry at my mom. It wasn't her fault she got sick. It wasn't her fault that I was upset at the choice of a dying woman's final words. It wasn't her fault that she died. It was nobody's fault and I knew that, but it left me with no place to put my anger.

It just burned me alive.


"Dr. Banner, Aj has injured herself."

Bruce looked up from the report he was reading and before he could even ask the AI to explain further, he heard glass shattering from the floor below. He tossed his report down, pocketed his glasses, and hurried down the stairs. Bruce whipped around the corner, into the kitchen, and didn't immediately see Aj. There was glass scattered across the floor that crunched under his feet. He took a step in further and spotted Aj curled tightly up sitting in front of the sink.

"JARVIS, restrict access up here for now." Bruce said quietly before walking over cautiously. Aj didn't even give him a glance. She was crying. She was silent and stiff. Bruce stepped closer and cleared his throat, "Aj?"

She shook her head against her knees, her voice sharp, "I'm fine, Bruce."

Then he got it. It was evident in her voice. Bruce recognized this kind of state with ease. Aj was angry. She was fuming. Bruce let out a soft sigh and came to sit beside her. When Aj had told them she had anger issues the others found it hard to grasp. They believed her, had seen peeks of it here and there, but the way she described it… It was hard for them to imagine the grinning, laughing woman containing the kind of rage she talked about.

Bruce understood though.

He understood better than most.

"At least, when you get mad you just break glass." Bruce said softly. "Last time I lost my temper, I broke Harlem."

Aj's gaze lifted from her knees to look at him and he offered her a small smile. She shook her head, "I wanted to do more. I wanted to—to break bone. Mine or someone else's I don't know I just—" She held her hands open to stare at them. Bruce saw the small, bleeding wound on the pad of her palm under her thumb. "I feel like my blood is boiling."

Bruce nodded, "I know what that feels like. Can you tell me what triggered you?"

"What triggered me?" Aj laughed dryly, "I broke Tony's fucking mug. That stupid one that says 'I LOVE IRON MAN' on it. Where does he even buy that shit? And you know what?!" She snapped. "The only reason I dropped it in the damn sink is because I had to fucking wash it because whoever used it last put back in the cabinet dirty!"

Bruce hummed, "That's frustrating—" Aj scoffed, but it didn't deter him, "But I know that wasn't what created this anger. If it is then you might have a bigger temper problem than I do."

Aj leaned her head against her knee again. She kept her gaze on something beyond him. Bruce watched the burning rage dull into a small ember. Bruce knew this kind of thing could come in waves. Anger was like an ocean. Sometimes the surface was still, calm, and other times the waves were stories high and churning. You could dive into its depths and let it drown you or you could float on the surface and focus on the sky above.

He had learned, early on thanks to the Hulk, that if he lost sight of the sky he would sink to the bottom of the ocean. Bruce Banner would be no more, and his alter ego would reign. Aj was young though. She hadn't quite learned yet. All she knew was that the anger was overwhelming, and it was. She was caught between treading water and slipping beneath the surface.

"Why are you angry, Aj?" Bruce said in the steadiest voice he had.

She clenched her teeth together, tears pooled in her eyes, and shook her head against her knees, "I don't know. I'm supposed to be sad, but I'm not good at sad, Bruce. I'm only good at angry." Aj lifted her head and swiped at the tears that left her eyes. "I can't even mourn right."

"Why are you mourning?" Bruce asked, but he had a bad feeling he knew the answer.

"December 19th." She replied simply. "It's the sixteenth anniversary of my mom's death."

Bruce sucked in a sharp breath, "Aj. I'm sorry."

"No. I'm sorry." She pressed her face into her hands briefly, "I'm stomping around like a petulant child, snapping and throwing things… It's stupid."

Bruce shook his head, "No, it's not. You don't have to be sorry. Anger is difficult to get a handle on. It's…finicky."

Aj chuckled, "Yeah, that's a word for it."

"Would you like to talk about it? It really does help." Bruce asked. He motioned to the cabinets, "Or I can get you another glass. I know Tony can afford more."

She shook her head with a small smile, "It's stupid—"

"It's never stupid."

Aj paused and then started again, "I don't have anything to be angry at. There's no person to blame. My mom dying…That was just—just a tragedy. Could've happened to anyone. I thought after 16 years, it'd waiver. I know I'll never be fully ok, and I'll always miss my mom, but…it just feels like every single year it gets worse. Time is supposed to heal, I thought."

"Time can heal, but only if the pain is finite. Losing someone you love…that's not something time will just erase, unfortunately." Bruce replied. "Yes, eventually the ache won't be so sharp, but it won't heal. Not like we wish it would."

"How do you do it, Bruce?" Aj asked with a shake of her head. "How do you keep your anger so well controlled? God, my anger just boils over with ease and then the smallest thing like stubbing my toe or—or cutting myself just feels like…"

Bruce smirked, "Feels like you're drowning in it?"

"Yes." Aj nodded desperately.

"You have to let it go, Aj." Bruce replied and her features wilted. He chuckled, "I know, I know. No one likes to hear it. But give me a little trust?" Aj relented and gave him a small nod. He motioned to her, "Anger is like a body of water. Some people live with puddles, lakes, or rivers, but people like us? We got stuck with a damn ocean. And it's a mean ocean. Unforgiving. Aj, you feel things so strongly…you feel that anger and you grab ahold of it. You fight it because it's the natural thing to do. But fighting it is wearing you down, it exhausts you to the point where now even the smallest things can set you off. You need to let go of it. Stop fighting the current. Let it take you where it wants to go because you can't beat an ocean, Aj. You can only ride the storm."

Aj sat in silence for a moment, mulling it over, and then she nodded with a soft smile, "Thanks, Bruce. No one ever explained it to me like that. People usually just tell me to get over it and that usually just pisses me off more."

Bruce stood up and crossed the kitchen to get the first aid kit he knew was in a drawer by the oven. He came back, sat down, and then began to clean the small cut with an alcohol swab from the kit, "What do you usually do on these days? I know people have different traditions."

"Well", Aj chuckled and watched him clean the tiny wound, "Typically, I sleep in until at least noon. Then I go to my favorite bar and drink until I can't see straight." Bruce frowned at that, but then it got worse. "Then after that, I would head to the ring and fight. It was everyone's favorite day because they knew it was the only day they could beat me. I was always too drunk to do well or win. That wasn't my intent though, I just wanted…"

"The pain." Bruce sighed.

Aj nodded, "I've always been better at physical pain than emotional pain. It's a hell of a lot easier to deal with."

"How about we find you a new coping mechanism, hmm?" Bruce asked. "Maybe a new tradition too?" Aj chuckled and gave him a small nod. He pulled out the box of bandages and shook it in front of her, "You want an Iron Man Band-Aid or a Captain America one?"

"They got any Hulk?" Aj grinned.


Talking to Bruce had helped significantly. It wasn't some be all, cure all, but my anger had simmered into something much more manageable. Of course, that left more room for the hurt, the sadness, but at this point I'd take it. On a day like today it was just a game of 'juggle my emotions and try not to drop everything'. I glanced at the injury on the palm of my hand and smiled. My mental stability was currently being held together by one Hulk themed band-aid.

After talking me off my cliff, Bruce told me to go back to my floor, take a warm bath, change into something comfortable, and take a nap. I wasn't really a bath kind of person. Bodies of any water, no matter the size, wasn't my forte, but I had changed into a pair of sweatpants and one of Thor's giant sweaters from our shared closet space. I was pretty sure it was more of a joke sweater because it was a warm yellow with the words 'HAMMER TIME' stitched into it with a small Mjolnir stitched under that. I hadn't seen him wear it so officially I was claiming ownership. Possession was nine-tenths the law.

It didn't take me long to pass out, swaddled in my new sweater and the blankets on my bed, in the cold room. The moment I had fallen asleep though it felt like I was waking up again. My head felt groggy and I glanced around the room looking for the source of the noise that had woken me up.

Phone. It was my phone.

Shit, it was that phone.

I jumped out of bed and scrambled to grab Bucky's jacket which was hanging on the back of my closet door. I always left the small phone in the pocket. It was still ringing, and I was panicking. My slow, still half-asleep brain, trying to make quick decisions. I grabbed the jacket and sprinted into the bathroom where I knew JARVIS had no eyes and no ears.

The phone stopped ringing once I closed the door, and I pulled it out to call him back. My finger hovered over the button and I hesitated. My quick nap had apparently actually been over three hours. I rubbed my face and instead of calling him back, I shot him a text.

'Bad day, stuck in tower, sorry.'

I closed the phone and set it on the bathroom counter with a sigh. Honestly, talking to Bucky was a bad idea for a number of reasons right now. I splashed some water on my face, content with crawling back into bed, when the phone started ringing again. With a frown, I picked it up and shook my head. Hadn't he gotten my text? I glanced around, as if one of the Avengers was going to jump out from a corner, and hesitantly answered it.

Bucky spoke first, "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" I replied. "Didn't you get my text?"

"Yeah, I did. Are you ok? What's wrong?"

"Bu—" I stopped myself from saying his name just in case. "I'm in the Tower right now. I'm hiding in my bathroom, JARVIS can't see in here, but it's still risky."

Bucky replied without missing a beat, "I don't care. It's fine."

"You that eager to talk to me?" I joked.

"Maybe." Bucky said. "It's your fault. You got me in the habit of talking to you every day. What am I supposed to do if I don't wrap up the end of my day with the sound of your voice?"

I couldn't help but smile at that, "God, that's cheesy."

Bucky chuckled then pressed again, "Stop deflecting. What's wrong?"

This was risky. I knew I was out of sight when it came to JARVIS, but you never knew. At the same time though, hearing his voice, it honestly brought me comfort. I didn't know how to explain it. If you held a gun to my head, which I was still very bad at getting out of according to Natasha, I wouldn't be able to tell you why Bucky's voice made me feel soft. I think it went back to that damned hellhole. Psychologically speaking, maybe I, at my weakest moment, had used his presence, his voice, as an anchor… so now it was just second nature. My body couldn't help but relax. It knew I was safe.

"It's a bad day, Bucky." I said quietly, not even realizing I used his name until it slipped from my lips. It was like the nap I had taken shoved the ball of anger deep into my chest, and now talking to Bucky all I had left out in the open was sorrow. "December 19th is always a bad day."

"Talk to me, doll."

I crawled into the large, empty jacuzzi sized bathtub and just talked. I told him what happened sixteen years ago and how it got worse every year and how this was the first time in ten years that I was sober on this terrible, terrible day and how it felt like my chest was just caving in on itself.

In slow motion, I was imploding like a dying star.

And, Bucky just listened. He'd mumbled soft comforts anytime I took a break to breathe, but he never interrupted. He just listened intently while I poured my soul out into a tiny, outdated cell phone that I clung to like a lifeline.

"I'm sorry." Bucky said when my words rolled slowly to a stop. "I'm so sorry. I know that hurts, Aj."

"And you know what I hate?" I scoffed, "First time sober on this day in ten years, and the first emotion I acknowledge is anger. God, I was so angry. I still am! Bruce talked me down and it helped but… I'm angry. I'm angry and that has to make me a terrible human being. Who spends the anniversary of their mother's death angry?"

"Hey." Bucky said firmly. "That's not how that works. It doesn't make you terrible. You're allowed to be angry. You're allowed to be sad. Aj, you have the right to feel anything you feel today."

I leaned back so my head was resting on the edge of the tub, "I think she'd be disappointed in me if she could see me now."

"Ok, I take back what I said. You're not allowed to feel that." Bucky scoffed and I couldn't help but laugh at the exasperation in his voice. He continued, "Doll, that's, pardon my language, but that's dumb as shit."

"Did you just ask me to pardon your language?" I smirked in sudden amusement. "I know I've definitely dropped multiple 'F-bombs' and everything else under the sun to you."

"And that's fine, I like the way you talk. You say what you think, no holding back, but my ma would reach out of her grave to beat me to death if she knew I was cursing to a dame like you." Bucky replied.

I snickered, "Steve said fuck and Goddamn in front of me."

"Yeah, because he's a punk." Bucky replied. "And you can ask him what'd I'd do to him if I heard him say that to you."

I tucked that information away for later use, "I wouldn't have guessed that. I had him pegged as the gentleman and you as the bad boy with a dirty mouth."

"I was and I did." Bucky replied. "Steve is the gentleman out of the two of us. He'd never dare be late to date, he'd bring only the best flowers for his gal, pull out his chair, lay his jacket across a puddle…all of it." He chuckled. "Problem is the punk didn't date. Never had a conversation longer than a couple minutes with a dame so he's used to talking the way he did with me and the other guys on the street and then the guys in the ARMY."

I smirked, "That's…kind of adorable."

"You keep distracting me." Bucky said suddenly, "The point I was making is that I've never met your mother, but I know for a fact that she wouldn't be disappointed by you."

"You can't know that." I mumbled.

"Actually, I can." He said firmly. "Because I know you, and if your mom is as great as you make her sound, then I know she'd be nothing but proud."

I shook my head, "I've done some terrible shit, Bucky."

"You've overcome terrible shit, doll."

"Oh, Mr. Barnes, I'm a proper lady, do you hear? I can't bear to hear that kind of talk!" I replied in what I assumed was an old-timey damsel in distress voice.

"Oh, hush." Bucky chuckled. "Take my comfort."

The hand that wasn't holding the phone, I let my fingers play with the hem of the sweater mindlessly, "Her last words to me were 'Just be you'. I never understood that. Still don't."

"That just proves I'm right. Can't believe you doubted me for a second." Bucky scoffed.

"How so, smart guy?"

"Just be you." Bucky replied, enunciating every word. "She obviously knew you were special, and apparently she also knew you'd be too dense to figure it out yourself."

I laughed at his statement, "Dense? Hey, that hurts my feelings. Say something nice and super old to me."

"Super old?"

"Yeah, like something no guy would say in the year of 2014."

Bucky hummed in thought before replying, "Doll, you're a real swell bird."

I grinned to myself, "Aw shucks, Buck, you're such a dreamboat." He chuckled and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like Russian. "Really though, thanks. Talking with you helped a lot. I just—" Faintly, I heard a familiar voice call out my name from outside the bathroom. Panic hit me like a bag of bricks and I quickly stood up, "I gotta go, sorry!"

I slammed the phone shut before Bucky could even reply. The voice had been Steve's and I knew his super hearing could've easily heard the phone call. I re-flipped the phone open and shot Bucky an apology text letting him know that Steve had walked in then muted the ringer just in case. There was knock at the bathroom door and I nearly busted my ass jumping out of the jacuzzi tub.

"Aj?"

I yanked the door open, breathless, and gave a confused Steve a tight smile, "Hey. Steve, hey. What's, um, what's up?"

"Are you ok?" Steve questioned.

"Yeah." I nodded and let the long sleeves of my sweater go well past my hands so the phone was covered up. My heartrate was starting to calm finally, "Hey, I'm sorry about this morning—"

Steve quickly shook his head, "No. We—Uh, Bruce told us." I nodded once at his words and he sighed, "I'm sorry, Aj. Is there anything I can do?"

"No. It is what it is." I replied and crossed my arms, "I talked it out with…with Bruce, obviously, and it helped. He really helped."

"Good." Steve nodded and there was an awkward tension that hung in the air between us. Fear crawled up my spine at the worse case scenario. Had he heard me on the phone with Bucky? Had he heard Bucky's voice? I was doing this for him, but he couldn't know yet. Bucky didn't want him to know. "I…I'm sorry, I heard you on the phone."

My shoulders tensed, "Oh."

"I didn't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to check on you." Steve said, his eyebrows scrunched up in concern.

"How much did you hear?" I asked softly.

"Just the end, but I—I know." Steve answered and it took every ounce of me to not immediately start begging for his forgiveness. The last thing I ever wanted to do in this world was hurt Steve in any way. He had been there for me since the beginning, put up with my dumb ass, and it felt like I was betraying him. "Nat told me about him."

I blinked in confusion, "Huh?"

"Josh, right?" Steve motioned back to the bathroom. "A friend from high school?"

It took my brain a few seconds to catch up to where we were at in this conversation, but I quickly nodded as soon as I had, "Yes! Josh. We've been catching up with one another. He's been…He's been really great."

"Good." Steve gave me a smile, but it didn't entirely reach his eyes, "I'm glad you have someone like that. To talk to about this stuff. I, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck and gave me one quick, tight nod, "I'm here if you need to talk to someone. I mean, not now. You just talked about it so I'm not saying you need to—to talk about it again. I meant more—"

My face warmed at watching him stumble over his words, a small smile on my lips that I couldn't fight back. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him in a hug. Steve hesitated only for a second before he wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on top of my head. Everyone in this Tower had the special skill of giving great hugs. I don't know how I had lived so long without the constant flow of accessible hugs, but Steve's were the best. Not that I'd ever admit that to someone like Tony or Clint. They'd never fucking stop whining.

"You're still my favorite, you know?" I mumbled against his chest.

Steve relaxed against me, "Why does it sound like you're comforting me? I came here to comfort you."

"This is enough." I replied and tightened my grip.

He chuckled and I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head, "You in the mood to hang out or do you wanna sleep a little more?"

"If I sleep anymore, I won't be able to sleep tonight." I said and pulled back so I could look up at him. Steve kept his arms loosely around my side, "What did you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise." He smirked and took a step back.

"Lemme clean up a little and I'll meet you. Your place?"

"Penthouse." Steve replied and turned to leave.

I didn't move until I heard the elevator doors close. With a relieved sigh, I walked back into the bathroom to grab Bucky's jacket. The phone had vibrated once while I was talking to Steve and when I flipped it open it was just a text from Bucky.

'I'm here if you need me, doll.'

'Ditto, dreamboat.'

How'd I get lucky enough to have these people in my life?


He knew that him and Aj had a lot in common. Tony could see that plain as day on his own, but he also had people like Pepper and Rhodey and Happy who would point out the same thing to him. They were similar in little ways, the snark, the taste in loud music, even similar coping mechanisms, but they also had big things in common. Similar pains. For one, they both shared their worst day in life in December. In fact, only a few days apart. That was a funny coincidence. Funny in a tragic way, but still.

Tony could still remember learning the news. The police officer who pulled the short straw of having to share it had smelled like pine trees. It was a weird little fact he never let go. Learning about his dad dying had been hard. Howard Stark had been a downright dick to him for most of his life, but he was his father. Learning his mom had perished in the same car accident? If it hadn't been for Rhodey he would've drank himself to death that night. No doubt.

For him it had been 23 years ago, and it still hurt. Tony used to get black out drunk anytime the anniversary came around, but it had gotten better. This year he had flown out to California to spend the entire day with Pepper and Rhodey. It took him years to figure it out, despite being a genius he could admit he was dumb as shit on things like this, but now he knew that the best way to mourn a loved one was to be around others you loved. It didn't fix it, nothing would, but being reminded that you still had love in your life helped significantly.

"I got the usual." Tony called out and began to dig out the various snacks he had gone out to buy. The Tower had some, but if they were going to do a full day movie marathon they needed more supplies.

Clint clapped his hands and peered over his shoulder with a grin, "Nice. Ooh, sour straws—"

"No." Tony slapped away Clint's hand and ignored the hurt look the man shot him, "All the sour straws are for Aj. I got you sour gummi worms, you bird."

"She can't eat all those sour straws." Clint pouted. "You bought like 17 packs!"

"Touch the sour straws and die." Tony threatened. "Nat?"

Natasha who was sitting on the couch in lazy day clothes flipping through a magazine, didn't even look up at her name being called. She just hummed, "Leave them alone, Barton. Eat your worms."

Clint snatched the worms out of the bag and collapsed face first onto the couch by her with a pout. Tony dropped the box and looked around, "Where's Spangles?"

"He's getting Aj." Bruce replied, walking out of the kitchen with two bags of popcorn, "Did you get—"

"Yes, I got the twizzlers." Tony replied cutting him off. "I am not a snack rookie. Jesus."

Clint spoke up, but his voice was muffled by the cushion, "What're we watching?"

"We're letting Aj pick. Don't whine." Natasha replied.

"I wasn't gonna whine." Clint lifted his head and whined.

Steve came up a few minutes later letting them know that Aj was just cleaning up. He mentioned that she had been talking on the phone with the mystery guy. Josh Thompson. Tony had looked him up and was not impressed. He seemed nice, but he also seemed boring. It might have been Steve's saving grace though because Tony would let her date Steve before he let her date this guy. He was still holding out that Aj would let him set her up with a movie star though.

The elevator opened and Tony glanced over his shoulder to see Aj walk out. She seemed tiny in the sweater Tony had bought for Thor last Christmas. Her hair was braided into two French braids and the way she played with the bracelet on her right wrist told him she was nervous. Tony crossed the space with open arms, and she rolled her eyes before folding into them.

"I heard you broke my favorite mug."

"God, I knew you were gonna say something." Aj said pulling away from him with a chuckle.

Tony smirked and dragged her over toward the others. He tapped her arm, "I'm making a drink. You want the usual or warm and toasty?"

"Warm and toasty please." Aj replied with a smile.

Tony walked into the kitchen to quickly make a cup of hot chocolate, and he could hear Clint explaining the movie options to her. Hawkeye sounded extremely biased while talking. Everyone knew he wanted to watch the Back to the Future movies. After the hot chocolate was done, he two handfuls of tiny marshmallows in for her and moved back into the main space where his bar was.

"Now Indiana Jones series is also an option. Steve hasn't seen those either." Clint said, but he shook his head, "But obviously—"

"Stop with the commentary." Natasha replied. "The last choice is the Harry Potter series. According to ABC they're Christmas movies."

Aj, who Tony noticed was still standing where he had left her, wringing her hands, brightened, "All of them?"

"Well, it is a movie marathon." Bruce chuckled. "You a Harry Potter fan?"

"I actually have only seen the first two when they came out in theaters." Aj shrugged.

Tony's gaze snapped up to look at her, "How have you only seen the first two? I get why Capsicle hasn't seen them, but last I checked you weren't frozen for 70 years."

"I just never got around to it." Aj shrugged.

Clint clapped his hands, "Harry Potter it is. Steve's a muggle just like you, Aj."

"I don't know what that means." Steve shook his head with a tired shrug. Tony poured rum and Horchata into the hot chocolate and quickly poured himself a bourbon. He walked back over and handed the mug to Aj who took it with a wide smile. She still wasn't sitting, and he could still see the nervous energy in her eyes. He wouldn't press though. Tony would resist.


The drink was warm in my hand and smelled sweet. Tony gave me a soft smile before taking the single seat to my right. Natasha was sitting at the arm of the long couch and Steve sat in the middle of that same couch. Bruce was on the love seat eating popcorn and Clint was rooting around in a box of snacks.

"I told you not to touch the sour straws." Tony snapped.

"I'm not! I'm looking for m&m's!" Clint argued. "And hey, where's my spiked hot chocolate?"

"Do I look like your maid?"

"Well..."

"Fuck you, Barton."

I rubbed my thumb around the lid once before quickly setting it down on the coffee table in front of me. Eyes focused on me at the movement and I couldn't help but fidget with the bracelet on my right hand. Natasha set down her magazine and narrowed her eyes at me.

"You good?"

I nodded, "Yes. Yes, I am. I just wanted to…" I rocked back on my heels and nodded again. Just bite the bullet. I decided I was going to do this, so I was going to do this. I sucked in a breath, "I wanted to say I'm sorry. I got angry this morning and I snapped at you guys and you didn't deserve that and I—"

"Aj." Natasha cut me off mid-apology. I still had a lot left planned in my head. "We appreciate the apology, but it isn't necessary. Everyone has bad days. What you consider snapping wasn't even half of what we've seen from each other."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, and she continued, "We're a family and we care for another, but that doesn't mean we always get along. Look at the personalities in this room. Do you really think we haven't been absolutely infuriated at one another?"

"Well, yeah, I assumed that but…"

"You know that charming wit that Tony has when he's being funny?" Natasha explained further, "He can use that same wit to be equally as cruel when his temper flares. He doesn't mean it. We don't hold it against him, but it happens."

Tony raised his hand, "All I heard was that you think I'm charming and funny?"

"Yeah." Clint ignored Tony and pointed back to Steve, "Once, I ignored Steven Grant Rogers for a full two weeks. A straight cold shoulder. All because he said Hubert Van Innis, the Olympics dude, was a better shot than me." There was a beat of silence where Clint's features fell in annoyance. He turned around, "Actually, you know what, I'm still a little pissed about that."

Steve rolled his eyes and spoke next, ignoring Clint's glare, "Bruce is the worst because he knows how to control his temper enough to be levelheaded when he lectures us."

I glanced at Bruce and he gave me a small smirk and shrug. Tony cleared his throat and pointed to Steve again, "And every single person in this room has been on the receiving end of a Captain America temper tantrum—"

"Hey—" Steve complained.

"He calls them lectures, but we know what it is." Tony finished then added, "Steve has also been on the receiving end himself from every single one of us." Everyone in the room nodded and Steve avoided my gaze. "Because every time he slips into that little suit you think is oh so sexy—" My face went bright red and I shot Tony a glare that didn't deter him, "—he does some real stupid shit."

I laughed and used the sleeve of my sweater to rub at the bridge of my nose. As if I could rub the embarrassment away. Clint motioned for me to take my seat. I mumbled a quick thanks, picked up my mug, and then settled right beside Natasha. Tony told JARVIS to darken the windows, dim the lights, and start the first Harry Potter movie.

"I am sorry I snapped at you this morning though, Nat." I whispered.

She gave me a soft smile and pulled me into a small hug. She whispered back something in Russian, but her tone was kind and honeyed. I didn't even need to know what she said. It made me feel better regardless. Clint dropped down in the seat beside Bruce with a grin, immediately digging his hand into the man's bowl of popcorn, and Steve leaned forward to grab something from the snack box. My eyes widened when he handed me a pack of sour straws with a smile. I took it happily and settled in as the movie began to play.

In the dimly lit room, Clint spoke up again, "Seriously though, how could you think he was a better shot than me? I don't give a damn if he won gold medals, I'm fucking Hawkeye."

"Can fucking Hawkeye give it a rest?" Steve replied with a sigh.

I faked a gasp and turned to look at him, "Steven. You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Even in the dimly lit room, I could see Steve's eyes widen and his cheeks darken. Once he noticed my smirk a small smile formed on his own lips, but it quickly fell when Tony barked out, "Yeah, Captain, watch your fucking language."