If there was ever a time to play beer pong, it was certainly not now; that didn't stop Sam and Natasha from setting up a game, however. Steve massaged Sam's shoulders, offering encouragement and coaching advice in his ears along with friendly slaps to his ass to prep him for what promised to be an engaging game. Natasha cracked her neck, stretched her arm across her chest and leaned to whisper something to Bucky that made him grin and shake his head. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to sit between the couch me and Wanda claimed. His metal arm slung over my shoulders, chasing away the faint sunburn on my bare shoulders, pulling me towards the familiar side I molded into. I slide my fingers between the cool chinks of his fingers, pressing a kiss to his scruffy jaw and lingering a moment to savor my ability to do this.
"She slipped the Russian stuff in there, didn't she?" Wanda inquired, breaking my fixation.
"Oh yeah. Sam isn't going to make it. Hope you've all got your eulogies ready," Bucky replied, watching the game begin with amusement.
Wanda waved her hand, wrapping red magic around three spare cups on the kitchen counter and pulling them into our empty hands. "These are regular beers, right?" She sipped before Bucky could confirm as much.
I sipped at mine slowly, enjoying the feeling of it settling into my bloodstream. I liked the Avengers on nights off.
"Ready players?" Sally called.
Sam gave a thumbs up and Natasha winked.
My attention was directed to the hand on my thigh, worming up the hem of my sleep shorts. I swatted Bucky and his antics away, keeping my gaze steadily fixed on the unfolding game. Alcohol buzzed in my veins, chasing away all thoughts of Menzel and my powers and anything further than the welcome wooden walls encasing us.
"Wanna get out of here?" Bucky whispered in my ear.
"Haven't had your fill yet?" I teased.
"Don't think that's a possibility."
He had a grip of iron on my hand, dragging me down the hallway out of sight, but we did not make it to the staircase. He ducked into the bathroom, using my body to effectively seal off the door. I sighed against his lips, contented to just do this for the remainder of my days. Something nagged at the back of my mind, however. Things were too perfect. It had to all go to shit soon, didn't it? Karma and balance of the universe and all that jazz. Then, Bucky was lifting me onto the sink, tugging down my shorts to my ankles, and burying his mouth between my thighs. I hummed in appreciation, fingers carding lazily through his fine hair. Hips rocking against the insistent metal fingers buried inside me.
"Bucky?" I asked, following up the name with a moan when his tongue lashed out against my clit.
"Did you know Sally was using your blood to run experiments on me?"
"Yeah. She told me when she drew a vial the other day." Bucky sat back with a huff, irritation creeping in the stall his menstruations.
"Well, she didn't tell me," I clipped.
"Christ, that's messed up. I'm sorry."
I hopped down, yanking up my pants, putting a palm between us to let myself think. To let myself fume. "You didn't think to mention it? Or are you so buddy buddy with Sally that you just trust her entirely. You of all people should know better than to trust scientists."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Because they turned me into a killer, but that's not what she's doing. She has only ever tried to help me and she's trying to do that same for you. No, I don't believe every word she says; I doubt everyone around me every goddamn day. But, I trust her, like I trust Steve, like I trust you."
My fingers twisted over the tracking bracelet on my arm. I held it between us, like a flare. It kept me inside that glass prison, never letting me breathe properly. It kept me carefully under their thumb.
"Menzel is in prison, safely locked away. You said she was neutralized. So why am I still being treated like threat number one?" Bucky stared at me, his jaw working over gritted teeth. "My abilities don't need to be cured. I'm not like you," I pushed, probably too far.
Bucky nodded sharply, taking my wrist in his hands and typing away quickly. "You're right. We're very different." The bracelet fell off, leaving an angry red mark in its wake. He strode past me, out the door.
Frustration might have poured through me if not for the weight of the entire Avenger's expectations being lifted from my wrist. I rubbed over the sore skin, massaging away the imprint the tight metal cuff left. I turned to the sink Bucky had just been eating me out over and cut on the water. I scrubbed at the skin under my fingertips and up to my elbows until burned red. A relieved laugh curled against my lips and I braced my hands against the porcelain counter, glancing up at myself in the mirror. I called on a gentle air current to come dry my hands, soothing the tenderness of my skin with cool caresses. I was free. I could leave. I would not get very far, but still, the opportunity was there.
Strolling back into the swing of the party, I tapped Sam's shoulder, tagging myself in to the concluded game. Natasha grinned coyly behind her rows of untouched cups. Steve refilled my set and handed me the ball.
"Show me what you've got, Rosales," Natasha taunted.
Bucky and Wanda were still curled on the couch and he did not lift his head to look at me when I entered.
I threw the ball towards the cups, twirling my fingers when it went slightly astray.
"No powers!" Natasha accused.
"Come on. You know I can't win. Just give me that one," I pleaded.
"Drink!" Sam commanded the assassin, using my shoulders to brace his staggering form against as he jumped enthusiastically into the air.
Natasha shrugged and pulled the entire cup of beer easily. Her teeth slid over her lower lips, eyelashes flowing enticingly as she launched the ball back. Perfect hit.
"You can't be up there, Sam. The rafters aren't designed to hold your fat ass!" Wanda's voice pulled me from sleep.
The clock said that it was 0400 and the crick in my neck informed me I was far too old to be falling asleep on floors. Steve snored in the recliner, little umbrellas tucked into his golden locks and everything but his boxers MIA. Wanda prowled under the exposed rafter beams where Sam lounged lazily, his legs dangling over the edge and his hands still clutching the margarita I'd fallen asleep to him making. Wanda turned to me for help, but my headache prevented me from doing anything but waving at her.
Natasha was curled up on the couch, no less than a dozen blankets piled on top of her, probably by Steve in mom mode before sleep overtook him as well. My hair fell into my face and I grimaced because the bathing in beer smell reminded me a little too much of college. Bucky claimed the coffee table, his face plastered against the glass where his drool pooled. I smiled affectionately at the weary crew. Guarding my unpredictable ass was draining work. I'm glad they could let loose for one night at least.
I knelt beside Bucky, massaging his scalp, cooing for him to join me upstairs in a real bed. Wanda sighed and flopped onto the small space left by Natasha's feet on the cushion, massaging at temples too many shots made throb.
"How did he even get up there?" I asked, nodding towards Sam.
"I don't know. I went to the bathroom for two minutes and everyone was out. I think Sally actually went upstairs to find a real bed. You were asleep hours ago, though. Bit of a lightweight, eh?"
"It's been a few years since I visited the party scene."
A silence descended over us like shroud, clogging our vision of anything outside this room. The only light originated from a tiki torch flickering away behind the glass doors opening up to the beach. The ocean was unusually quiet tonight, along with the wildlife that routinely sang me to sleep. I straightened, stretching out my back as I walked to the ajar doors. The breeze caught at the sheer curtains, pushing them to wrap around my ankles and skim across my face. Still was never good on a coast; it meant an impending storm.
A shadow danced along the palm tree line, disappearing between the trunks and snatching the air right from my lungs. The curtains fell as still as death; the hell a sideways glance away from breaking loose. My hand wrapped around the doorknobs, closing the double doors in one swift motion and securing the locks. Wanda turned, curiosity drawing awareness back into her tired gaze.
"Wake the others," I whispered.
Like a frozen shower was descending over her, Wanda sobered and smacked Natasha's calf. The ginger lurched awake, pulling a gun from fuck knows where on her satin shorts and camisole set. "Situation status?" she demanded, eyes yet to pry themselves open.
Sam leapt from the roof beam, staggering only a few steps before righting himself and painting a serious expression over his drunken state. "What'dyousee?" he asked, words slurring together into one jumble.
"Is it Menzel? I'm ready to put one between her eyes." Natasha jumped over the back of the couch, striding past me to glare out the window, daring anyone stupid enough to approach her.
"It's not Menzel," Wanda whispered, voice tight with fear of the unknown wrapping around her throat. She hit Steve's shoulder and flipped Bucky off the table with just a twirl of her thumb. The pair grumbled complaints, but quickly shut up when they saw Natasha and Sam prowling the perimeter—seriously, where was everyone hiding these guns?
"It's not Menzel," I repeated. I would feel her. Wanda would be able to get in her mind. I backed to set my petite shoulders against Wanda's arm as we watched the back doors.
"What can you tell about this guy, then?" Steve called his shield with the technology strapped to his wrist and went to station himself beside Natasha in those clover boxers, guess no one would be getting lucky tonight.
"I…He's…He's not alive, not really," Wanda stammered, magic dancing chaotically around her hands, searching for a target.
"Don't use your powers, Rosales. Bucky, get her clear," Steve ordered.
The dark haired soldier's hand closed over my elbow, pulling me towards the stairwell. I jerked away, sensing the air cutting sharply out of the approaching hostile's path. I could draw up an image of him in my mind, the beefy shoulders, the torso built like a truck and thighs thicker than my waist. "He's not breathing!" I blurted.
"Asgardian? Enhanced? Someone tell me what we're dealing with here," Steve barked.
The glass doors exploded with all the force of a hurricane behind it. The left sent Natasha careening clear through the thin wall into the store front. The right merely knocked Steve back a few steps. Sam fired off a volley of bullets into the shadow that now occupied out doorway. The tiki torches had been snuffed out in his entrance, but the moonlight leaked past his frame, lighting up the determination on Steve's face as he squared off.
"Where is Joy?" the man asked, voice a startling soft tenor.
"Wouldn't we all like some of that. You need to search somewhere else, sir," Steve answered.
"Where is my Joy? Where is my wife!" The man thrust out his hand, and Steve went flying through the same wall Natasha had yet to reappear from. Their muffled voices mixed together as the three remaining Avengers launched their attack.
Before they made it three steps, all three hit their knees. The air was yanked from the room like a holy hand snatched it away. Bucky groped at his throat, whipping his head between where the man stood and where I remained upright. His face was a terrifying shade of purple and his muscles grew heavier with each moment that passed without oxygen.
"You're like me?" The man took a step closer to me when his abilities failed to cripple me.
Sam lashed out as the man passed by, only to be kicked in that face by a boot lined with a steel that echoed through the night. The storm raging drew me into the vacuum surrounding the intruder on feet that barely skimmed the ground.
"Joy Menzel? Your wife is Joy Menzel?" I murmured, holding out steadying hands between us. I sent breath to Bucky, Sam and Wanda, trying to keep them alive, but each push of my powers against his was like showing an anvil uphill under a downpour.
"Do you know where they took my Joy?"
"They don't really trust me with stuff like that, but they're good people who don't deserve to die. If you stop this, they can help you control it. I learned." If this was Menzel's husband, then I had been right about her needing me for personal reasons. I hadn't been her first subject. The formula she created for me was more refined, but still had side effects. Her husband was a dozen times more powerful than me and had a feral gleam in his tar eyes. She wanted the cure for him; to save the man she loved from himself.
In his distraction, Wanda sent a knife hurtling towards his gut. He stared mildly as it embedded just below his ribcage and pulled it out without even a bloodstain left in its wake. His hand whipped forward, dragging Wanda off the ground, body extended like a noose clung to her slim neck.
"Stop! Just stop!" I begged, putting myself between him and Wanda. Between where Sam and Bucky lay sprawled on the hardwood floor, chests convulsing for oxygen. "Let them breathe, please. Let them breathe and I'll take you to Menzel," I promised.
"You do not know. Why are you trying to trick me?" I don't think he meant to throw the knife. In his anger, the blade slipped from his wildly expressive hands and jammed into my left shoulder joint. There was no delay, no adrenaline surge that kept me from feeling the pain. It shattered every thought in my head and sent icy fire clambering throughout my limbs. I know I screamed only because the man jumped and held out his hands to me much like I'd done to placate him earlier. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" he gushed.
"I know!" Wanda choked, her face a color death himself would envy.
The man whirled towards her, his askew red hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Wanda hit the ground, heaving hacking breaths into her lungs before she repeated herself. "I know where Menzel is. Let them live and I will take you to her."
He dropped the vacuum and I filled it instantly, making sure I felt four heartbeats before I slumped against the coffee table, consciousness swimming in and out of focus.
"You are like me too?" he asked in a small almost childlike voice.
"I'm Wanda. What's your name?"
"Hugh Menzel."
Wanda nodded slowly, forcing her shaky legs beneath her, nailing her unwavering gaze to his. "You take me and leave them. We have a deal?"
Hugh's attention shifted to me, guilt eroding away at the fury from before. The knife was yanked from my shoulder by an invisible hand and Wanda dove to staunch the bleeding with the heel of her palm. "Is this your way or trying to help?" she demanded.
"Help. I can help." Hugh knelt to pick both of us up in his meaty hands, throwing Wanda over one shoulder and cradling me against his chest. There was no thud from a heart beneath his ribcage, but my own thundered away, trying to replace the blood as quickly as it was lost.
"Haven?" Bucky sat up, eyes bloodshot, body swaying though the wind had vanished. Hugh tensed beneath me, ready to attack again.
"Go, just go," I whispered desperate to get this monster away from those I cared about.
Now we were the ones that were airborne. He flew through the night like Peter Pan in a search for his Neverland, though, I don't remember Wendy Darling bleeding all over the place when he whisked her away.
Well...! What do ya think? Got a new baddie to deal with and some relationship drama.