red_room | Not Happy, Not Independent, but still a Day to be Remembered

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Not Happy, Not Independent, but still a Day to be Remembered

It's two days before when Natasha finally remembers.

There's fewer channels than there used to be but the world has somehow kept on spinning after Thanos. People need a news source. There's a somber section tacked on at the end of the morning program reminding people to contact their remaining loved ones and be safe this coming Independence Day and that's it. The next thing Natasha knows she's shattering a perfectly good souvenir coffee mug Tony stocked this place up with and swearing up a storm because it's about to be the Fourth of July.

Now, Steve's never been big on birthday celebrations. Tony threw huge parties for him the first couple of years after they all came together on Independence Day half as a joke and half because no one actually knew when his real birthday was. It was Clint who finally got it out of him that, yes, all joking and propaganda aside this was his actual birthday. The jokes were twice as bad that year. Lately though things have been a lot quieter. The team started to fall apart. Steve and Tony never did see eye to eye.

And now...?

If Natasha doesn't do something for Steve there's a good chance no one will. Oh sure, people might make some blog posts or tag an abandoned building in Captain America's honor. It's touching. Sweet. But they're not friends nor are those wishes for Steve Rogers as a person. The man himself certainly isn't going to do it. If he remembers his birthday at all it'll be to sit in his room listening to old records sipping alcohol that won't affect him while he remembers people who are dead. Birthdays should be for the living.

It's about time Steve remembers he's got people here.

The spy scoops up her phone, fingers tapping impatiently at the lock screen so she can make a call.

"Rocket. Tell me you're in this sector. We've got work to do."

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"Chicken's still easy enough to come by. We can get plenty of that."

If Natasha stops and lets her mind drift she can hear Barton having Big Opinions on grilling. Both how to do it and what to make. It makes her fingers clutch a little bit harder to the dust cloth to will them not to shake. His whole family is gone. Wiped out like they never existed at all. She hurts down to her bones when she thinks about them.

Though how much they have to buy does matter an awful lot on whether or not the Asgardian is going to be coming over. Which means Natasha should stop and go call him.

"I might as well get this over with. No sense in making a list until we know who we're shopping for. I won't take long, then we can head out."

The former spy heads back into her war room. Lets her fingers drag across the holographic displays gently before she brings up one of the screens and makes a call out to a small village in Norway...

If Rocket notices her white-knuckle grip on the cloth, he's diplomatic enough not to say so. Everybody's got dead people, and everyday things that remind you of what you've lost that you can't prepare yourself for because it's everywhere and everything. And makin' people talk about it when they aren't ready is a recipe for disaster. So he keeps his mouth shut, and keeps rubbing at the streaks on the glass until they're gone.

On the other side of the planet, where the summer sun never sets, Thor is jolted out of a mildly hungover doze by an electronic chime that takes him several long moments to recognize. He drags himself to a sitting position, running his hand through hair that's now long enough to get unruly, and fumbles for the device to answer it before he can think better of it. "Hello?" he mumbles, and presses the heel of his metal palm into his eye to ease the ache that's taken up residence there.

There's a stack of papers untouched on Natasha's desk that she'll have to deal with sooner rather than later. Reports, mostly. Infrastructure failings, disasters both natural and man-made, crime groups that have sprung up to take advantage of the state of affairs in a world post The Snap. Natasha doesn't even look at the yet.

Just this once, for the first time since they came back from their ultimate failure, Natasha is trying to do something for herself and her friends. The rest of the world can wait just a little bit.

"I didn't expect you to answer." There's hints of a smile in Natasha's voice. There's no reason to hide it, nor the actual one tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"It's been a while, but Rocket said you might be around. You got a minute, big guy?"

The sound of her voice is like a bucket of ice water over Thor's head, snapping him alert and near-sober as his heart leaps in his chest. He knows from Rabbit and Steven's visits that Natasha has taken over what remains of the Avengers, and it is her responsibility to deploy them as needed. For her to be calling him now...

A thousand possibilities go through him in a flash, and none of them good. Whatever emergency is brewing, whatever crisis has arisen that would lead her to call him in... Thor would have sprung at the chance for battle, in better years, but now his bloodlust has burned out so thoroughly that he would rather do almost anything else.

He's silent for a long moment before he discovers where his tongue has gone, and forces himself to respond, hoping he does not sound as reluctant as he feels. Natasha is his friend, his shield-sister, and he does not want to hurt her further. "I've... been busy," he says hesitantly, a blatant lie that she will no doubt notice, but he can think of no better excuse. "But there's... nothing pressing right now. Is there a problem?" Oh, how dearly he hopes the answer is no.

The picture that's been painted of Thor by both Rocket and Steve is less than encouraging. It doesn't take an experienced former KGB and SHIELD operative to catch on why Thor would lie to her about what he's been doing. She saw him refuse to leave his room when he was still staying at the complex. How even when he did he'd rather to anything than interact with the rest of them more than necessary.

Natasha doesn't call him out. It's not worth it to say something they're both well aware of and it would only cast more depression and shame onto Thor. No, this is supposed to be a pleasant affair.

"I can imagine. Leading people is way more of a headache than I thought it would be." Natasha isn't used to being in charge either. It's never been her place before now. "No. No problem. I remembered in time. I'm arranging a dinner for Steve on Friday. There's been damn little to be happy about lately. I want to do something for him. Hence my call."

Natasha gives it a moment for her words to sink in. She gives a long look around her office before she remembers the role she's supposed to be playing now. Her tone softens.

"You're still one of us. Can't even start planning a gathering without calling you."

"A dinner?" It's so far off-base from what Thor had expected that he truly needs that moment to process that he's not being called to battle. A dinner, for Steve? But why? Wait, what month is it? Thor had never made a particular habit of tracking the Midgardian calendar before, but he's spent enough time on Earth to mark special occasions with his human teammates in the past. Holidays, anniversaries... birthdays. Is it Steve's already?

Still, a social gathering is far less daunting than combat, and Thor forces himself to relax his grip on the device, his heart gradually slowing from its breakneck pace as he breathes. "That's... that's good of you," he says, once he realizes she's waiting for him to respond. "For morale, I mean. And... that sort of thing." Focus. Come on. Thor kneads at his forehead, willing the last of his headache to subside.

Thor is far too young to be feeling so old, and yet as he thinks about his human friends and how frequently they mark the days of their birth, he's struck anew at just how brief their lives really are. Even Steven, who is perhaps the oldest human that Thor has met, is still younger than some of the children in Asvera. Time marches on, whether Thor acknowledges it or not. How many more birthdays will his friends have, before there are no more? He dreads that day, and yet refusing to acknowledge the inevitability will not change it either.

He clears his throat, hoping his voice does not betray where his thoughts have gone. "I'm... honored. That you thought of me. Do you... need help? With the planning." He does not know how much use he would be at such a thing, especially now, but it seems like something the old Thor might have said, and so it comes out of him without much conscious thought.

"You don't need to be so formal. It's just a birthday dinner." And yet it means a lot to Natasha that Thor's treating it with so much import. It's quietly something she's glad of, that he still cares for the tiny, petty mortals he once called his comrades in arms.

"It doesn't seem right with your people still settling in to ask you to bring anything. I just wanted to know if you'd come. I can handle the cleaning and preparations. Rocket's here helping."

Once, Thor might have argued that formality is a necessity when it comes to parties, used to centuries of royal functions where he'd been expected to fraternize with dignitaries and the like. There had been shades of that still when they'd celebrated in Stark's tower over two years past, presenting a good impression for the guests who had attended. But he knows, even without Natasha saying so, that this will be no open event to the public. Steven would not want it to be, and neither would anyone else. There will be no one to impress. No need to act as though everything is normal when it isn't, or to dress in uncomfortable clothes for the sake of appearances.

Still, he hesitates to answer her, little irrational insecurities nibbling away at him. Steve has made it clear he doesn't blame Thor, but will the others? He hasn't seen most of them since the Garden, and though he's also been told there is still a room for him at the complex, maybe that's because they don't expect him to use it. And while he has slowly becoming accustomed to recognizing signs of a panic attack, he's loathe to risk having one in front of them. Or letting them see how little he's taken to caring for himself.

Yet at the same time, he dearly misses them all. The Avengers may be the closest friends he has left, mortal or not. And life is a fragile, precious thing that may be lost at any moment, even for Asgardians. He knows that all too well, now. Should he turn down this chance to see them again, knowing that it could very well be the last, for all he knows?

Natasha asks nothing of him besides showing up, and though it seems like a breach of two worlds' etiquette to show up with neither gift nor favor, the relief of not having that obligation outweighs the shame of agreeing to it. "Friday, you said?" he says at last, after a lengthy pause. "I... my schedule's open. If you want me there." It seems a coward's move to give her room to back out of the offer, but he's compelled to do it anyway, for reasons that even he doesn't fully understand.

"Yeah. At the complex. We're going to grill. I don't expect there to be many people considering everything, but that means it'll be quieter too."

They'll need to plan bigger for food and drink with Thor attending, but honestly Natasha's relieved that he's agreeing in the first place. She hasn't seen him since he left the complex. "I'll see you then. Thank you."

It's not a question. Best to not leave Thor a reason to think getting out of bed is too much trouble day of. He's always been of a mind to keep his word once he's given it. Call ended, Natasha heads back out to check and see how Rocket's getting on.

"Thor's coming, so we'll plan accordingly. Chicken's not going to be enough. Might have to splurge and get some beef too. That might take some work. There's not going to be much if any available around here."

It's smart of her to not give Thor any wiggle room to change his mind. Despite how hard he's come down on himself for everything - or perhaps because of it - the last thing he wants to do is disappoint the people he cares about, if he can help it. Even if he does end up stressing himself out about it between now and the birthday dinner, knowing that they'll be waiting for him will be motivation to at least put in an appearance, no matter how long he ends up staying.

"See you," he echoes faintly, before the call ends.

Rocket, meanwhile, has been making excellent progress on the windows as high up as he can reach, having stolen a chair to help out with that a bit more. He's making a face at the sharp smell of cleaning chemicals, of course, but that doesn't stop him from brightening up the place. He glances over his shoulder as Natasha returns, trying to pretend like he wasn't listening in the whole time.

"Too bad we can't just buy a whole cow or somethin', huh?" The raccoon shakes his head, looking unsurprised at the increased need for food. He's heard rumors about how much grub Asgardians can put away in a single sitting, and if Thor's theft of the Benatar's entire supply of soup was any hint, there's truth to that. "Still's probably gonna be easier to find than hotdogs. I can check around, see what I can find." Granted, it hasn't always been the easiest thing to get Terrans to take him seriously when he's ventured out on his own, but that's nothing new to Rocket.

"Whole cow would probably be easier to find if I'm honest, but I'm not butchering anything just for a dinner. Friends or not."

With Natasha it's not even really a refusal out of discomfort so much a it is time, effort, and inexperience with the task being discussed. The effort it would take to get the necessary tools alone just makes her shake her head. Beef's easier to come by in places where ranches are still everywhere but in urban areas and especially up East like they are prices have skyrocketed due to a lack of supply. People adapt of course. In time, someone might set up shop up here to fill the market need.

For now they all just make do.

"Might as well go with since we need to track down a place to get everything else too. I can call Pepper and ask if any of her catering contacts survived if we have to, but I'd like to think an intergalactic bounty hunter and a spy can do some basic grocery shopping unsupervised." Natasha grabs her jacket off of where it's been hanging on the back of a chair and tugs it on.

"Me neither." Though in Rocket's case it's more a matter of size and effort. Not to mention it's way easier to find somebody willing to get paid for doing the work for you. What good's having money if you never spend it? Sure, you get un-rich real fast, but if you don't spend it you're not changing anything anyway.

He gives the window one last scrub before hopping down from the chair, tossing the rag and spray bottle to join the rest of the cleaning supplies. They can finish tidying up later, once the more important stuff is secured. "Hell yeah we can."

With the Benatar at their disposal, it's no effort at all to cross the country in a matter of minutes, seeking out the rural places that still look occupied, commercial farms and family-owned alike. Asking around will take longer, of course, with the need to land and find somebody to actually talk to, and Rocket gets more than one person staring at him along the way like he’s some kind of freak. But eventually, they do find a little place in rural Kansas with beef to spare, food that had probably been intended for the farmhands that seem conspicuously absent in a farm this size.

Natasha's not all that dissimilar to Gamora in some ways. She can be downright taciturn and serious much of the time, saying nothing for hours on end rather than wasting her words on idle chatter. Outside of a mission, however, she's much more personable. They spend much of the actual flying trading playful barbs though once or twice Rocket will catch the spy nearly nodding off into her hand propped up on the armrest.

She's been working herself down to her bones and it shows in times like this where a lack of activity leaves her struggling to stay awake. She's all business every time they depart the Benitar. Doesn't take being turned away badly either. They knew it was going to be a bit of a struggle when they set out. For things that aren't processed and locally made, it's not as simple as just going to a grocery store anymore.

Back they go onto the ship and back to quips Natasha goes. They can settle into a routine that way. An easy one. But when they speak to the family working the farm out in Kansas Natasha makes certain her manners are with her when they agree to sell them a good quarter of one of the beasts and for a pretty reasonable price, too. The meat won't last forever even in a freezer sealed properly and there's really not enough people here to go through their stores of fresh food before it's wasted.

"We really appreciate it." The spy is all demure smiles though it's not exactly insincere with how friendly the farmers are. They may have to insist they're not aliens (Avengers, so close enough right?) but at the end of it all they can walk away with a cooler full of meat and let the farmers take the cash for much more needed supplies. Natasha even walked away with a 'foolproof' poundcake recipe and the know how to make a simple fruit compote to put on it when she admitted she wasn't much of a homemaker but was trying to arrange a dinner for a good friend.

She's still not so sure she wants to try her hand at baking herself, but it might come to that depending on what they can find.

"So, what's a crew of part time do-gooders and part time baddies do for fun in between planets? I can't imagine living on a ship all the time. Then again, I hardly leave my office back at the complex. I guess it's probably not too different, huh...?" There's a growing corner on the Benitar full of food they've picked up throughout the course of the day. Natasha's turning away from the windows to shoot a glance Rocket's way.

Natasha wouldn't be the first to nod off while Rocket's flying, especially when the current track is something easy to sleep to. He doesn't take it personally, just gives the ship an extra little jostle whenever he sets down and she's busy inspecting the back of her eyelids at the time. Enough to get her up and alert without makin' her feel bad for catnapping.

It's nicer when she's awake though. Rocket doesn't like the quiet, and sometimes the music just ain't enough to make up the difference.

It might be tedious work, finding little bits here and there to add to the pile of groceries, but it passes all the quicker with someone to snark back at. It's a reminder of happier times gone by, and it hurts like hell sometimes, but it's still comfortable and familiar and makes him like her all the more.

He glances over her way while he lays in their next vector, raising his furry eyebrows. "Eh, sometimes kinda. Whole lotta nothin' in between planets to get through and you can't really step out for a breather. There's only so many card games you can play in a row before you go bonkers though. Quill and I had a prank war goin' on for like a year, until Gamora got her hair set on fire on accident. Didn't let us play stabby-hands anymore once she found out that was goin' on, either." He mimes stabbing at the spaces between his fingers, in case that didn't translate.

Natasha's picked up small details on who these people were to Rocket over conversations over the months they've worked together. Quill never sounds the brightest, and Gamora sounds just as stoic as Nebula comes off as. There's Draxx who doesn't quite seem to get what's going on a lot of the time and is built in line with Thor. And Rocket's not-quite-kid who Natasha's heard precious little about and knows better than to ask.

It sounds like a family not too dissimilar to her own. People you wouldn't imagine standing each other who have somehow gotten close nevertheless. Near apocalyptic situations will do that to people though.

Natasha should know.

She snorts at the mention of a prank war, and a bit harder at the game.

"After how many times you two stabbed yourselves?" Though by the telling of it, it was probably mostly Quill despite the fact that Rocket's not got a whole lot of space between his own fuzzy digits.

Rocket cackles a little, despite the grief still underlying all of these memories. "Oh man, way too many times. Quill got himself good that last time, sneezin' mid-stab. Had to stop off at a real clinic for that one. Mantis never let him live it down."

Well, okay, and neither did Rocket. But Quill always seemed more outraged to have someone so sweet and innocent laughing it up at him, so Rocket didn't exactly mind so much.

Ah, those were the days.

He lapses into a sad sort of silence for a moment before he shakes himself and looks back over at her. "How 'bout you? Must've been some downtime in between big gigs, back in the day, right?"

"Oh absolutely. But I was the one who was no fun."

Natasha says it with a straight face. As somber as she can make her tone. But after a moment or two a sly smirk curls across her lips. Half the fun about being a spy is getting your revenge in ways that don't involve directly challenging your targets.

"But strange things did happen around the complex now and again. Things might go missing and end up in other peoples' rooms. Or hung up on display...and on one occasion someone managed to hide a container of silly string in a can of whipped cream. I'm really not sure who would do something like that though..."

Rocket can appreciate being sneaky about your revenge on somebody. He's not good at it, obviously, but people who have the patience and the skill deserve props for it. He chuckles, grinning and showing sharp teeth.

"Total mystery, huh? Bet they deserved it." He hasn't heard a ton about the Avengers who are no longer around, though he's picked up bits and pieces along the way. Other than the thing that split 'em apart completely, they sound like they were way less abrasive than Rocket's little family had been. But still clashing personalities enough to make things interesting, which is the way it should be, if you ask him.

Maybe it wouldn't be the worst idea to pull somethin' like that on her, one of these days. Nothing malicious, or that'll remind her about all the sad shit, but something to make her laugh for a minute or two. There just isn't enough of that to go around anymore.

Rocket glances over his shoulder at their stockpile, still sitting securely in the cargo area. "One more stop and I think we should be good to go." It feels good to have actually accomplished something, no matter how many times they had to walk away empty-handed. This dinner is gonna happen, and it's gonna be something good for everyone.

"I'm not the best at this kind of thing, you know. Don't spread it around."

Natasha pulls one leg up bent at the knee so she can perch in her seat while they start descending toward the clouds again. Spending a day flying around like this....feels nostalgic, but not in a bad way. Especially considering she hasn't had to shoot anyone once yet today. No crisis to avert. It's nice to get out of the complex even for a day.

"But, thank you. For helping me with this. Even if it doesn't mean much to Steve, it's important to try and Live a little. However we have to."

Rocket pretends to think about it. "Oh, sure, I can keep a secret." He often doesn't, but he can. Depends on if there might be payoff later, and how much he feels he can wait that long.

Besides, it's nice to see her smile a little when she's not faking it for morale.

And it helps to lighten the mood a little when she's coming out with stuff like that. Serious talk, veiled as it is with prettier words that make things sound better. More normal. Or what used to be normal, anyway. "No problem. I was gettin' tired of canned beans and peanutbutter anyway," he says, shrugging casually, though by now he's spent enough time in her company for her to read him better than to take that at face value. It's part of how he copes, pretending to hold that sort of sentiment at a distance, not always admitting that it matters to him too. They're all he's got, now.

Like the lady says, they're all still alive, so it's time to find somethin' good to do with themselves instead of just surviving. No matter whether Rogers is appreciative or not, Rocket sure as hell will be. It's been a good day, playing delivery truck service. Headin' home with a full load of food is bound to raise everybody's spirits, even if they've gotta wait for the main event before they can dig in.

The comment about their usual diet startles an honest laugh right out of her. It's a single sharp 'ha!' rather than anything more delicate or feminine but it's more genuine than most will ever hear from Natasha.

"Don't remind me. There's only so many ways you can have peanut butter on bread before you want to go crazy." Keeping a good diet up is easier said than done and Natasha's kept herself so busy that she often just doesn't bother.

"I'll break out a couple of the fruits we picked up to slice up with our sandwiches tonight at least. Not much better, but if we're going to do all the work we might as well get to sample our efforts. Make sure they're up to snuff." Quirking her eyebrows slightly toward Rocket if he looks her way.

They'll have Rhodey and Steve up day of. Rocket can hail Nebula. Tony declines the offer and Natasha pretends that it doesn't bother her. She really hadn't thought he'd agree. But Thor's already confirmed he'll come and that she hadn't counted on before thye left to gather supplies. It'll be a good gathering, for them.

Something to look forward to.

Rocket grins back at her. "Read my mind, Boss." They deserve a little something for all their hard work, after all.

It's an Effort to get the rest of the place cleaned up and ready for the get-together, but with Rocket and Natasha working together, it's not an insurmountable obstacle. By the time the fourth rolls around, everything is prepped and ready, with the grill set up outside and some of Rocket's curated tunes filtering through the complex's speaker system. Between the music and the sounds of actual people, it's a step up from the eerie quiet that usually hangs in the air here. Maybe not entirely festive, but warmer, alive.

Thor's arrival is, as it often is, impossible to miss. The Bifrost sets him down on top of the same rune circle he'd burned into the lawn years ago, bringing nothing but himself and his axe to the gathering. His hair has grown since he was last here, just barely too short to tie back, but it's been brushed back away from his face in lieu of wearing the hat he typically dons when in public these days. His fuller beard has been trimmed too, making it look less neglected, and while he's still dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, at least they're a fresh set of clothes this time.

It's a little strange being back here again. There's a part of him that's nervous about it, urging him to just turn around and go back to Norway, and spare himself the awkwardness that's bound to follow. But he misses his friends more, so he takes a deep breath, and approaches the sounds of people.

"Hey there, stranger."

There's no dress code for this sort of thing, but even before they tended to at least make an effort when it came to their gatherings. Today's not like that at all. Natasha's in a simple tank top and khaki shorts when Thor wanders toward the only occupied part of the complex. She can't quite lose the habit of wearing at least basic makeup, but that's more comfort than it is trying to impress anyone.

"I'll tell the boys to fire the grill up now that you're here. We didn't want to start early. Steve's catching up with everyone and hasn't told us we didn't have to do this once yet, so I'm counting this as a win."

Whether Natasha is just putting on a friendly face or she's genuinely pleased to see him, Thor can't tell, even after the time he's spent in her company before. But either way, it eases his nerves a little to be greeted like this, and he manages a smile for her. "Hey yourself."

Good to see he hasn't underdressed for the occasion, anyway. The last time they were together for an event like this, it was way more formal. He hadn't minded back then. The effort seems exhausting, now. But at least he's not the only one who thinks so today.

Thor props up Stormbreaker against the wall, well out of the way of any foot traffic, where it should be safe until he needs to go back home. "That does sound like a victory," he agrees, though there's still time for Steve to say otherwise in between now and dinner's end. Thor runs his metal fingers through his hair, making sure it's behaving how he wants. "Everyone else made it safely?"

One thing that's universally seemed to vanish after The Snap are the efforts int things that don't really seem to matter. Ornate high class affairs aren't gone entirely from the world but there's very little reason to hold them just yet. Considering how much of a chore it was just to get what once would have been considered a pretty Basic grocery list, asking folks to find or show up in their nice clothes just seems like work that doesn't need to be done.

"Everyone who decided to come, yeah." Natasha holds in a sigh and shakes her head right after. It's really no surprise to anyone not to have Tony here. Nor did Natasha reach out to Bruce though she could have probably found him. But most everyone else is here. Natasha can point out where they're gathered.

Okoye will outclass all of them in her Wakandan fashion from where she stands quietly discussing Work with Rhodey while they sip at beers. Nebula has absconded a bowl of the chopped fruit salad that Natasha made and is sitting off a little bit on her own though close enough to listen and speak up when the conversations cross something she understands. She seems a bit lost at a gathering like this, though not upset about it. Being included and accepted is still hard for her to understand.

She's quietly sad that Tony hasn't come. He's the closest thing she has to a friend out of the humans, though Rocket is lingering around at least. She won't be alone. In fact, Steve's apt to purposefully put himself between her and the others so that she's got someone to talk to if she wants. He's been rather quiet himself though not ungrateful in the least.

Natasha gives Thor a small smile. She knows it's not nearly enough of them. But it's what's left. It's home, as much as she can make of it.

"See? I'll grab us drinks. Just a second."

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