"Eva Kresk," Sam said solemnly from his position on one knee, "will you do me the honor of being my hot date to the big-ass function Stark's holding to celebrate a film all about my amazing life?"
"Jesus Christ, don't scare me like that!" she snapped, as he scrambled up with a grin. "And yes, Sam Wilson, I would love to."
"Good, 'cos I bought you a dress."
"What, really?"
"Can't let you go in overalls, can I? It's your birthday present, before you complain about charity." he asked, kissing her forehead. "I gotta go see Rogers for a thing, but I left it in your apartment. Get Vision to walk you out to the road, it's dark out and he just clocked off anyway."
"Okay. Love you."
"Understandable. See you later."
She found Vision in the rec room, playing pool with Hawkeye (and winning by far) as Wanda watched. "Can you walk me back to my bike?" she asked, "I parked it outside. Laser foreheads are useful in case someone tries to mug me on the road."
"Gladly." He handed his cue to Wanda. "Please don't win by too much. We don't want to embarrass him."
"For the record," Clint said, "I liked the old Avengers better. People were nice to me."
Eva laughed. "Night, Clint. Wanda."
"Coffee girl," he replied with a salute, as Wanda waved.
"Sam asked me to go to the Stark function with him," she said as they walked out of HQ. "Are you going?"
"I assume so. Agent Romanoff was a little reluctant at first, since she's used to keeping a low profile, but the captain talked her round. The only excuse we have now is if we're on a mission."
"You hoping for an excuse, then?" she asked him. "Don't lie, I know you too well."
"It's… not really my forte," he admitted, "when I was created, I imagined many things would happen to me in my life. Society events was not something I envisaged."
"It's for a documentary, which is allowed. And besides, you can just hide behind Stark, he loves it."
"As I am well aware."
"You're adorable," she said, "like it or not, Oompa-Loompa, you're a celebrity. People dress up as you and talk about you and write really weird fanfiction about you and that, my friend, is the prize and price of fame." He didn't look particularly comforted by that. "Look, there's like… a black carpet they call it, behind the red one, for people who don't want all the cameras and stuff. I'll stay on that with you for as long as humanly possible, deal?"
"Deal," he agreed, shaking her hand. "Oh, and Wanda was the lucky one who gets out of it. I forgot about that."
"How?"
"She's still only just lost her brother," he explained, "and she's grieving."
"She guilt-tripped Rogers," Eva said, and Vision nodded. "Smart lady."
"Indeed. Changing the subject somewhat, are you looking forward to your birthday?"
It was on the 19th March, two weeks from now and one week after the function. "Eh. Please don't let Sam do, like, a surprise party or anything. I like spending my birthdays on my own."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded firmly. "I get drunk and watch old noir films with Rachel Carson, and company would just ruin that. No offense."
"None taken. Everyone is allowed to be solitary, once in a while. I am getting you a gift, though," he said, and she groaned.
"Nooooo, I feel really weird when people do that and I don't do anything back," she wailed, "just… text me or something, that'll be fine."
"Eva," he said, "I love you and you are not getting away that lightly."
She huffed. "Jerk."
"Scrooge."
She pulled a face at him. "God, everyone's so nice to me. I hate it."
"Well, life is hard as you are wont to point out," Vision said, clearly quite amused at her negativity.
"Why do I get the impression you're mocking me?"
"I have absolutely no idea."
She said goodbye to Vision at the main entrance to her apartment block and whistled the score of Sleeping Beauty as she rode the elevator up, to be greeted by the yowling of Rachel Carson just behind her front door.
"Meow yourself," she told her as she unlocked it and stepped inside, closing it behind her and immediately making a beeline for her closet, before doubling back and grabbing her watering can.
Once the plants had been tended she crawled over her bed and opened the wardrobe door, then took down the unfamiliar bag that had been inexpertly shoved onto the top shelf. She hissed at the designer name on the side of its container and dropped it onto her unmade bed, shoving the cat off of it so she didn't get tabby-patterned fur over the dress, and pulled it out.
Eva wasn't good at fashion, but she loved this. It was black, but covered with embroidered flowers, light and simple and just alternative enough for her tastes (Eva had more in common than the coffee shop hipsters than she would care to admit), and it was of course the perfect dress for a gardener. It was also vastly more successful than what Sam had got her for Christmas.
"I ain't gonna be able to wear Doc Martens with this, Rachel Carson," she said in awe as she held it out in front of her. "This masterpiece merits at least, like, a clean pair of trainers."
"Meow."
"You go anywhere near this with your claws and I'm taking you to the pound," she threatened, before folding it back up with great care and stowing the bag in a safer part of her room. "It's probably worth more than all my organs combined," she said reverently, "oh, wow. I am not good enough for this dress. Wow."
Over the next few days, she kept pulling it out and staring at it, as though to check it were still real. Eva was not used to having nice things, so she had to sit and cry for a bit about the dress before shutting Rachel Carson safely away in the bathroom and twirling around the room in it for a bit.
With the curtains closed and the door locked, obviously. Nobody could ever know.
A/N did you notice my very subtle re-establishment of timeline in this fic? Subtle, huh? Not like I just flat out shoehorned the date into it, oh no. I chose it for Eva's birthday because (on non leap-year years), it's the first day of Spring, which is a good birthday for a gardener to have.