The things Eva loved always seemed to end up inked onto her body one way or another; trees, the iconic few bars of Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers, graffiti from her home city- the only exception was the name of some guy she had completely forgotten in tiny letters, but that was in a place most people didn't see, so it wasn't much of a problem. So when the money for her public garden came in, she went straight to the tattoo parlour for a sleeve on her other arm.
It was a stark contrast to the first one; instead of trees, a few thick black lines ran vertically up her wrist, slanting occasionally; circuitry markings, like for a computer. She wondered if Sam would be pissed she didn't get Falcon wings. She next saw Vision that afternoon, working the lull shift in the coffee shop- she couldn't be sure, because he wasn't the most emotive of people, but he seemed to be quite flattered.
"I want to become like a walking mural," she said, leaning over the counter to talk to him. "I must look so punk rock now, with the hair and the tattoos and all that jazz."
"They suit you," said Vision, "you're becoming gradually more and more intimidating."
"Good. Scare off the weak ones." He laughed, and the bell above the door tinkled as it opened. "V, I wanna pose something to you."
"What?"
She glanced uneasily at the people staring at them. "Every now and again, d'you… d'you wanna wear like, Muggle clothes?"
"Pardon?"
"Like- not jeans and stuff, you're too posh for jeans. Buy a suit, you could work a suit."
"Thank you," he said, "is this because the cape embarrasses you?"
"No! Yes. A little bit. But not just that, I… you wanna be more like us, right?"
"Right."
She nodded. "Then we buy you a nice suit. You don't have to wear it all the- oh, hell."
"What is it?" he asked, as she stiffened.
"My parents. Just- don't talk to them, okay?"
They were both dressed in gray suits (speak of the fashion devil); he was tall and wide, with a bland complexion; she, like her daughter was short and slim, with dark hair pulled back into a neat updo. They both carried briefcases- Eva suspected there wasn't actually anything in them, and that they were only for effect.
Although Eva would never admit it, her parents were similar to her in that they didn't look twice at the 6'3 purple caped man stood talking to their daughter. In fact, they didn't even look once; they completely ignored him, which Eva (correctly) guessed had never happened before in the history of ever.
"Hello, Evaline," said Mrs Kresk.
"Good morning, ma'am. What would you like to drink?" she said coldly.
"Evaline," said her father, "we are your parents, not your customers."
"Really? Because I was under the assumption that I didn't have any," she said. "Now, what would you-"
"We saw about your public garden in the Statesman," said Mr Kresk, "and wanted to congratulate you."
"Why, 'cuz I'm not a disgrace to the family name anymore?" she asked incredulously, giving up on the pretence.
"Because, Evaline, not cuz."
"Ha! You have no right to tell me how to talk, to do anything. I am not your daughter, remember? You both made that perfectly clear."
"How dare you talk to your mother like that?"
"I'll talk to her however the hell I want, since she ain't my damn mother!"
"Listen to me, young lady. We have extended a laurel leaf to you, you do not brush us aside. We have done nothing wrong."
"You have done everything wrong! Why else do you think I moved to the other end of the country?" she gritted her teeth. "Get out."
"We're not-"
"You impudent child!" snarled her mother. "We should never have let you leave home!"
"I can't believe this!" cried Eva. "I'm not a little kid, your kid even less! You don't get to pick and choose to have a daughter whenever it suits you!"
"You are our flesh and blood, Evaline," snapped her father, "no matter what a piece of paper may say."
"Didn't think like that a couple weeks ago though, did you?"
Kresk opened his mouth and raised a warning finger, but was cut off before he could speak.
"I think you should leave," said Vision, perfectly calmly, "if you want to avoid any more of a scene."
Mr Kresk was tall, but her friend still towered over him; with a glance at his wife, they both left the café.
"What charming people," said Vision. "Eva, are you alright?"
"Fantastic," she said. "Thanks for- y'know."
"It was no problem."
"You should probably get back," she said, clenching her fists under the counter to stop them from shaking. She was angry, and whenever she got angry she normally started crying a few minutes later. "I don't want to waste any more of your time."
"Eva-"
"Please, V. I'll be fine, I promise."
He looked her up and down, then leant over the counter to kiss her forehead. "You're ten times more than what they think of you," he said, before leaving. Once he had, the shop was empty; she stood there, trembling with rage and wishing she hadn't sent him away.
%
"Knock knock," said a familiar voice outside her apartment door that evening.
"It's open," she said dully, sprawled across her armchair with a bottle of moonshine dangling from one hand. "What d'you want, Sam?"
"V told me what happened," he said. "C'mere."
Silently, reluctantly, she stood up and walked towards him; he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her forehead. "Ev', I'm sorry," he mumbled, his chest vibrating against her cheek as he spoke.
She clung onto his shirt and breathed in his familiar smell, letting it comfort her. She hadn't imagined that their relationship would be serious enough to warrant him caring enough to come see her, but she was grateful for it. As much as she loved and depended on Vision, she wanted the familiar feel of her boyfriend right now.
"I'm such a piece of shit," she murmured.
"You're my piece of shit. Not your asshole parents."
Her lip twitched. "You comforted people much before?"
"Not really, no."
"It shows."
He laughed softly. "You want me to stay the night?"
She considered pushing him away, but she had already done that once that day and regretted it. "If it's no trouble."
"It won't be," he said. "Listen, we're going to Europe for a few days next week, not sure exactly how long. But if you-"
"Sam Wilson," she said, "under no circumstances are you to skive off saving the world to babysit your crappy girlfriend. I can look after myself."
"You sure?"
"Positive." She rose onto her toes to kiss him. "Thank you, though. I ain't worth this."
"Probably not," he shrugged, and she shoved him. "Also, did you talk to V about normal people clothes?"
She nodded. "I couldn't let him walk around in a cape any longer, Sam. At least, not all the time."
"It was either gonna be you or one of us. He'd look good in a suit."
"That's what I said!"
A/N WE PASSED THREE HUNDRED FOLLOWS HOLY COW STAN LEE U WANNA GET IN ON THIS BECAUSE I AM AVAILABLE AF