Fireworks

For never being outside their home country, the Maximoff twins were adjusting to life in the United States at a remarkable clip.

It wasn't all easy, of course. Adjustments of that size are never easy, and culture shock is no joke. But along with the downs, there were always the ups, and everyone was willing to come alongside and explain what needed explaining, whenever necessary.

Lots of people will sing the praises of learning through immersion. However, experiencing the sociopolitical and historical equivalent of being chucked headfirst into the deep end at the pool with no floaties did have some drawbacks, and occasionally, the twins learned some facts in the wrong order.

It was towards the end of June, on a warm, lazy summer afternoon, that a handful of the Avengers were loitering around the Common Room and discussing plans for the Fourth of July. Wanda, of course, eagerly engaged in discussion, having listened to enough conversations over the course of the summer to get the general gist of what was going on, while Pietro was mostly coasting on what his sister knew and only half paying attention.

"You must be very important to them," Wanda said to Steve, halfway between amusement and awe. "They celebrate your birthday with fireworks."

Just like that, the room fell silent, and Steve gaped like a beached fish.

"Wanda," he stammered, "that's not—"

Natasha stifled a laugh, her lips pressed tightly into a smile. Bucky, never one to miss an opportunity, slid over and threw his arm over Steve's shoulders.

"Yeah, wild, right?" drawled Bucky. "S' getting a bit excessive, if you ask me. They started the day he was born and they haven't stopped since. Must a' thought he was important or something."

This, of course, was more to annoy Steve than it was to tease Wanda. And it worked. Steve scowled at him, and Bucky just stared straight ahead with a smug grin.

"Okay, wait-wait-wait, you are not serious." Pietro pushed past his sister and waved a hand in the middle of the circle. "How you say? 'Pulling leg', yes?"

"That's correct," said Natasha, with almost a motherly smile.

"The fireworks aren't for me." As soon as Steve got his bearings, his explanation was quick and sincere. "They're for Independence Day—sort of like America's birthday."

"Which happens to be," Bucky added, still leaning on his shoulder, "the same day the man who wears the American flag was born. Figure that one out."

Wanda was already half-hiding in her hair. "Sorry," she squeaked.

"S' okay," Bucky said kindly. She was adorable when she was embarrassed. "Easy mistake to make."

"You can go see the fireworks if you want," said Steve, and he and Bucky shared a look. "We usually stay back. The sound...kinda brings back some bad memories."

Bucky didn't exactly frown, but for all of his joking, his face was suddenly calm and serious.

"Memories of the fireworks?" Wanda asked, confused.

"Memories of..." Bucky began, trying to figure out how to bowdlerize, "other sudden, very loud noises. War kind of stuff."

Immediately, the twins stiffened, then glanced at each other. Wanda looked away, and Pietro rubbed the back of his neck.

Yeah...they knew something about bombs.

Pietro was unusually quiet. "Will probably stay back with you, then."

"That's fine," Steve said gently. "I think the show is televised, if you want to see it."

Pietro slouched and whined, "But is not the same..."

Bucky snickered.

"Barton always throws a party at his place." At the sound of her voice, the others turned to look at where Natasha was seated, and she smiled, twirling a finger in the air. "Sparklers, s'mores, grilling, everything you Amerikantsy do."

Steve recognized the Russian. He wrinkled his nose and grinned, and she winked back.

"Will he have," Wanda asked timidly, "the loud kind? Fireworks?"

Natasha's gaze was warm and level. "No. He knows the company he's inviting. And it's illegal, regardless."

"Nothing is illegal if you're far enough in the country," said Bucky.

"That's not the point, Barnes," she shot back, "and you know it."

He just cackled.

"Sounds fun, Romanoff." Steve was already smiling. "Think he'd be okay with us coming along?"

"Now that you know the farm exists?" Natasha leaned back on the couch and kicked one knee over the other. "I think he'd love to have you over. It's only a matter," she added with a devious grin, "of buying enough food."

And that's the story of how Clint Barton was voluntold to host the Avengers Fourth of July party that year. He'd never forgive them for it.

A/N: And now, the first of the one-shots for which this fic was originally named (Fireworks and Buterbrod)! Actual Fourth of July celebration chapter coming later. Amerikantsy means, of course, Americans, but I'm sure you figured that out.

Reviews are promised s'mores. Tbc...