Hello again! I'm finally here with part two of day 8 ^^ Hope you'll like it. Enjoy!

I don't own the Avengers, only Emma and the alterations made to the original story.

Family Dinner

Eighth Day pt. 2

At 7PM I have set the table in the room, which I will think about as the dining room, since that's where we'll be eating. My father has helped me move the table in the room, so it's now standing in the middle. And then he went to go get changed, since he was wearing his Black Sabbath t-shirt; the one he always wears.

My hair is currently in a ponytail, which I plan to take out, once I'm done with the food. Which is in about 10 seconds, since the only thing I still need to do is put the lamb on the table; the other things are already there. The others should be coming any minute now, too.

Just as I place the food on the table my father, Bruce and Steve walks in, followed by Natasha and Thor. I smile at them and loosen my hair from the ponytail. I then motion for them to sit down, since they're just standing around awkwardly. Seriously, you should think a bunch of grown people could figure out what to do at a dinner.

But, apparently they don't. So I try to start a conversation. "Hey guys, glad you could make it. Did you have a nice day?" I sit down at one of the ends, between my father and Steve. I see my father roll his eyes, but before I can say anything to it, Steve answers me,

"It was nice, but boring. You should think we would get somewhere after such a long time, but no." I stick my tongue out at my father; at least someone didn't think it was a stupid question.

"Well, um it is rather difficult to find the Tesseract, but Tony and I are working on it," Bruce answers, I guess he noticed my childish behavior towards my father.

And just like that a conversation is started. A conversation about the apparent incompetence of my father, and about how nothing has happened since they captured Loki two days ago. Two fucking days, and they're already bored! I shake my head.

"Hey you guys! Can you just stop fighting and relax for a moment?!" I yell at them, but no one is listening to me. Well someone is, and coincidentally she is the only person that could make them go quiet, at least in my opinion.

"Guys, shut up. Emma has prepared a meal for us, and it looks delicious." She doesn't even raise her voice, but just like that they're quiet. I smile gratefully at her.

"Sorry, honey. We're really sorry," my dad says guilty. I smile reassuringly to him, to show that I'm not angry. And when the others nod at my father's words, I smile at them, too.

"That's all right. Well, um… This is roasted lamb," I say pointing at the lamb, "and oven baked potatoes, carrots and bobby beans. Because I absolutely love those. Hope you'll like it."

"Looks great," Steve says, "should we start?"

"Yeah, please do."

"I hear you have gotten the duty of bringing my brother his food?" Thor practically booms. Even if I didn't know it, I would still put all my money on him being the God of Thunder; you can literally hear it in his voice.

"Yes, that's true. I did it yesterday and today," I answer slightly embarrassed now that the focus is on me.

My father turns to me. "I realized yesterday, that I didn't show you how to get the food in there, but I guess you figured it out?" Well duh, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to give him food, would I? "Stop giving me that look, Em'," he lightly chastises, while smiling to show he's not that serious.

"Yeah, I uh… figured it out, wasn't that hard," I smile. Not that I'm going to tell him what I really did, when I couldn't figure it out. I don't think he would be so pleased with that.

"See what a genius I've raised!" he proclaims proudly, I duck my head ashamed. It wasn't like I actually did something smart. Luckily Thor decides to break in again.

"How is he faring? My brother, I mean."

I frown confused. "Faring? Oh you mean, how's he doing?" Getting an approving nod from my father, I continue, "He seems to be doing good. Doesn't talk much, but otherwise, he's good." I don't really know how to explain him. He's a difficult man to read.

At my comment, he laughs. "He never was one to talk much. Only when it was beneficial for him. Silvertongue, we call him, did you know this?" When I nod he continues, "He has always been good at tricking people; convincing them to do things. Charming them, some would say." With that he ends, and I hear my father cough faintly. So I look weirdly at him, 'cause that sure didn't sound real.

"Silvertongue, eh? Are you sure it's only because of his talk, and not because of his tongue?" He smirks.

"Dad!" I exclaim, not expecting him to say something like that. And I especially do not want the conversation to turn down that lane. Because that would just be awkward, and not like a family dinner at all. I'm starting to understand why people think parents are embarrassing. Having never really had many people who actually knew my father and me, I have never really been in those situations. But I guess it's never too late.

Steve appears to be almost choking on his water, Natasha seems amused, Bruce appears used to this after working with him for a couple of days, and Thor just looks plain confused. "I do not understand your meaning, Anthony?" he asks.

I'm pretty sure I'm the only one noticing the annoyed glint in my father's eyes at the name Anthony. He has never really liked that name, prefers Tony. Don't ask me why, it has something to do with his father.

Before my father can explain his meaning and make this dinner even more awkward than it already is, I answer him, "He didn't mean anything, Thor. Just forget about it, please." I almost sigh out loud; I'm too used to catching and apologizing for my father's mistakes.

Bruce seems to catch my effort of making the situation better, 'cause he says, "The lamb is great, Emma. Where did you learn to cook like that?"

I smile gratefully at his effort. "Thanks. I had to learn; this guy," I say pointing to my left at my father, "doesn't know how to cook anything. So when I turned seven I taught myself from some cooking books. And it's just evolved since then. You know, going from pasta and soup, to this." I shrug it off, it's nothing special. I've always been interested in cooking, so it's never really been difficult to me.

He seems impressed though. "That's kind of amazing. I certainly couldn't cook, when I was seven. I'm not even that great now."

"Well, you didn't grow up with this guy as your father," I laugh, remembering my father's attempts to cook.

"I'm not that bad!" my father says offended.

"Sorry, Dad, but you are. Remember that time when you lit the oven on fire, or the time when you tried to make pancakes and then forgot about them, so they became all burnt? Ooh, or when you made that soup thing, that got clumps in it?" At this I laugh out loud. The others laugh, too. My father even cracks a smile, and then continues himself.

"Do you remember when you turned five, and I wanted to make you something special? So I made pasta, which got burnt, with chocolate sprinkles and strawberry sauce." At this I laugh even louder with him laughing next to me, too. "I guess I'm not that great in a kitchen. It's a good thing I have you."

"Yeah, I don't know what you would do without me. You probably wouldn't survive," I retort.

"Ha! I did survive 23 years without you, you know," he jokes. I simply stick my tongue out at him again. "Anyway, I'm glad I have you. I probably don't say that often enough," he says suddenly serious.

I roll my eyes. "Dad, you say it all the time. Doesn't mean it isn't nice to hear, but still." I notice the others looking at us with big smiles on their faces. "And… I love you, too, dad. Don't know what I would do without you." At this he stands and hugs me from behind, kind of awkward because I'm still sitting on my chair, but nice nonetheless.

"So, where's the dessert?" And like that the conversation is back to the moment we're in. I laugh at him.

"How do you even know I made dessert?" I ask. At this he rolls his eyes. What? Am I that obvious?

"Because I know you, darling. When you cook for something big or important, you always make dessert. Besides it's Saturday, and that means dessert." He smirks slightly. "I'm pretty sure I can guess what you made, too."

I raise my eyebrows. "Seriously? Well then. What did I make, genius?" The last bit comes out a bit sarcastic.

"This is important to you, so it's pie. And I'm going to guess apple pie, 'cause you love apples and it's been a while since we last had it."

I frown, "You're right. Apple pie with vanilla ice cream." Maybe I should start noticing these little things about myself, the things others apparently notice and I don't.

"Apple pie sounds good. I've always been an apple girl," Natasha smiles at me. Successfully stopping my thoughts from wandering too far off. "You want help taking the dishes out?"

Well, I certainly didn't expect her to offer her help. Not that she's mean or anything. Actually I really like her. She just doesn't seem like the type. "Sure," I finally smile back. "Let's go." Right before I leave, I hear my father asking Steve how it was working with his father, my grandfather. I smile, mission accomplished.

Once we're in the kitchen, Nat turns to me. "That certainly went better than expected. Good job." Seriously, did she just compliment me?

"Thanks. I was just trying to get them to loosen up a bit. It's not really fun spending time with someone who refuses to talk normally with each other."

She smiles. "Sneaky. We could use someone like you in S.H.I.E.L.D. Someone charming like you, would be able to trick anyone. And I heard you've learnt quite a bit of fighting? You wouldn't happen to be interested, would you?" Now a more serious note to her tone, but I'm still not completely sure she's all serious.

"Thank you for the compliment I guess. My father decided a long time ago that I needed to be able to defend myself, so I have taken karate and self-defense lessons since I was eight years old, I think. Thanks for the offer, Nat, but no thanks. My father would kill me if I as much as considered it, besides honestly I'm not really interested. Sorry."

"No need to apologize, Em'. I was simply asking, that's all. I was expecting you to say no." And before I can say anything else, she takes the ice cream, the plates and the spoons and begins walking towards the dining room again.

So I just hurries to take the pie and dash after her. Not really thinking more about her question. When I come back the four guys are talking about living in the time around World War II, basically the 30's and the 40's. And trying to explain to Thor what the war was about and what happened, seeing as he really wouldn't know.

I begin to cut the pie and put the pieces on the plates, while it sounds like Steve is talking about his last moments of the war.

"You see, I knew I had to get the cube away, so there was really nothing else to do."

"Yes, I get that, but why did it have to be you? Anyone else could have done it, why were you willing to sacrifice everything?" my father asks. I look up, worried that his question will result in a discussion. But he's simply trying to understand, so I relax.

"I just knew I had to. It's who I am, Tony." Steve shrugs. "Are you saying you wouldn't do the same if it was for your daughter?"

"Of course I would, but it's not the same thing…" he says, but is interrupted by Steve.

"Yes, it is. For me it is. I will always do anything I can to save the country I live in; the country I love. Even if it means losing the only one that really mattered to me." He mumbles the last sentence, but I'm still able to make it out.

"What do you mean? Did you have a girlfriend there?" I ask excited, because that's a side of the story I don't know.

He smiles as if thinking back. "Not a girlfriend, no. But we were supposed to go on a date."

"Oh, I'm sorry, that didn't happen. What was her name? What was she like?"

"I've learned to live with it. It's okay," he smiles assuring to me. "She was one of the toughest women I have ever met, but very kind. Too good for me, I guess." But he doesn't seem to really think that, he isn't sad about it anyway. "Her name was Peggy, Peggy Carter."

"Wait a second! You're telling me your crush was Peggy Carter?" my father interrupts excited.

"Um, yes. That's what I just said." Typical my father to ask a question like that, of course that just means that he might know something.

"Are you talking about my Aunt Peggy? She's 93 years old now, I think. Still tough, stubborn, does whatever she wants. And still managing to be incredibly kind."

I watch Steve's eyes widen, as my father talks. I guess, he never thought of her still being here. And what's more, that he would actually have a chance of finding her.

"You've met her, Emma. Don't you remember?" My father turns to me.

"What? No, when did I meet her?" I ask confused. It's not like my father has actually introduced me to that many people, but that doesn't make it easier to remember, especially if I've only met her once.

"Well, you only met her once, so I guess it's understandable. I think it was the summer where you turned eight. It was in the first week of the holiday. Your first visit to New York, don't you remember?"

Looking my memories through, I can finally picture an old woman with a kind smile before my eyes. It's slightly blurry, because it's been such a long time, but I remember her. "Yeah, now I do. You wanted me to meet one of your friends, someone you considered family. I remember when you took me there, she had made cookies." I smile at the memory, and notice Steve doing the same. "She lived in this small cozy apartment, the type you feel at home in the minute you step inside. She had a lot of pictures on the walls and on top of the dresser. I remember one of them; it was black and white and had a picture of…" I pause, looking at Steve. "You."

"She had a picture of me in her apartment?" he asks me.

My father interrupts. "Yes. She still talks about you, you know."

He smiles. "Isn't that nice? You should go visit her! I'm sure she would love to see you," I say, excited for him. Now he has the chance to meet the woman he loves again, after so much time.

His smile fades. "I don't think that's a good idea, Emma. Some things are best left alone. She wouldn't want to see me now, and to be honest it would be too painful for both of us."

I frown confused. How is it painful? "But don't you want…" My father places his hand over my mouth, before I can continue. He shakes his head slightly.

Steve understands what I was trying to ask him anyway, so I guess it doesn't really matter. "Don't I want to meet her? Yes… but no." He then stands and heads towards the door.

I finally manage to move my father's hand. "Sorry, if I said something wrong. I didn't mean to hurt you," I say, slightly panicked that I broke everything we had just built.

But then he turns around and smiles reassuringly. "No need to apologize. You didn't say or do anything wrong, but it's getting late. This was nice, we should do it again." And then he leaves.

"Yeah, it is getting pretty late," Bruce says and continues, "Do you need help cleaning up, or?"

"No, we'll handle it," my father assures him. So the other three bid us goodnight and leave. Now it's only me and my father left. "Are you going to just stand there, or are you helping me, princess?"

I realize I've been standing kind of still, and move to help him. While I teasingly respond, "Well, if I'm a princess, I really shouldn't help you, Dad. Aren't princesses kind of too pretty to actually work?" I stick my tongue out at him.

"Ha ha, very funny. You're definitely helping me." Like I wasn't already.

How did you like it? I'm sorry for any OOC-ness (is that a word?) And I wrote this before The Winter Soldier came out, so I didn't know anything about Peggy. I hope you'll excuse the alterations I make to the story ^^ And thank you so much for the reviews, favourites and follows, it means so much to me that you guys seem to like it ^^ See you next monday with day 9, where Loki will appear again of course ;)