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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."
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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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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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..."
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"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.
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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."
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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."
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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?"
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"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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So he puts a smile on his face and waves hello to those he knows, gives nods of greeting to those he's met in passing, and greets Steve with a friendly pat on the shoulder. It is truly good to see him, even though it hasn't been terribly long since his friend last paid a visit to Asvera. "So I hear you've reached a venerable old age," he says, keeping his tone light.
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He can't deny it's probably better for him than what his own plans for the day were going to be though. It feels...good. To be around the friends that are still here. Better that Thor's beaten back his own personal demons to come out and see them all.
"That's what they tell me." Steve says instead. "Though if you ask me it's cheating to miss out on most of them by being asleep. I don't feel it, but they expect me to act my age. Seems unfair." That's safer. Not as apt to drag up unwanted memories for Thor or anyone else in earshot.
The soldier turns and grasps Thor on the arm. Holds it there just long enough to hopefully draw the God's eye to meet Steve's own. It's good to see him. He wants Thor to know that.
"Started volunteering for a neighborhood restoration initiative down by my apartment. It almost feels like..." Steve pauses before he glances up again. "Like being back Home. In my time. We organize neighborhood potlucks, help folks get their places fixed whenever anything breaks. I know everyone I live by suddenly. It's. It's strange. Not bad, though."
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That deliberate eye contact helps a lot, too, and after a moment's hesitation Thor returns the gesture, grasping Steve's arm in something like the warrior's handshake he knows. There are vanishingly few people he can trade those with these days, and even fewer that he can call friend. His smile becomes just a little easier, a little more genuine.
Having lost his own home now, Thor understands that sort of homesickness, seeing glimpses of the familiar in something new. It's a blessing and a curse all at once, though Steve's said little about the latter. And it is good news, working toward something helpful for himself and those around him. Tragedy bringing them together, rather than splintering them apart.
There's a metaphor there, probably, but Thor is not the wordsmith that Loki was, and he feels like trying his hand at putting it to words might not go as well as he intends. So he just smiles instead, making an effort to relax and focus on his friend. "That does sound nice," he agrees, vaguely familiar enough with what a potluck is to make sense of that. "Your neighbors must feel very lucky to know you are there to help them. I certainly feel fortunate to have your friendship, myself." Awkwardly put, maybe, but still sincerely said.
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It's good for him to be doing things that involve more than remembering those who are lost.
"Here we are. Drink for the thirsty and news of food coming up shortly. Rhodey insists he's got the grilling handled so I left him to it. Any requests should go through him. But the rest of the spread is all ready to go. I made it last night." No one's
lefthere that would fight him for that or argue about how to do it, either, so he's sure to get on without being harassed. Natasha holds out a beer for Thor to take. It's ridiculously light even by human standards but this is intentional. If it isn't seen even to be an acceptable substitute for alcohol to the god then maybe he won't feel as inclined to drown himself in it.no subject
Until then, of course, he takes the offered beer with only the slightest flicker of regret that he hadn't thought to bring a flask along. Or a keg. This is Steven's birthday, after all. But even if the human-brewed drink is too weak to warm his blood, at least the taste is familiar, and that's its own sort of comfort. "Thank you. That's our cue to get something to wash down with it, I think," he adds as an aside to Steve, nodding toward the table with the food on it. It's been some time since he's shared a meal with his human friends - a real one, not just drinks - and now that he's here, he's finding that he's missed it a lot.
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No one but she and Rocket knows how many attempts it took and it's going to stay that way.
"I really appreciate the work you put into this, Nat." Steve means it, too. He knows better than most how much work something like this must have been considering how much of it's fresh and not processed food. Even if it had been the effort was still made. On his behalf even. It's touching. Steve didn't think he could feel this way anymore.
For others, yeah. But for himself?
"I can get behind that." Steve sets his own beer aside to get up and get the three of them sturdy paper plates to hand out. But he'll insist on Natasha getting herself something first. She made this, she should enjoy it. A compliment Natasha doesn't quite brush off. She had plenty of help from Rocket but she knows better than to volunteer that information if he hasn't himself.
"Looks like steak, burgers, and grilled chicken's on the way too." Steve gives a low whistle. He's damn impressed by the selection. "I don't know how you managed that but it smells great. Wait, I know what that is--Thor if you have never tried potato salad you really gotta. Homemade like this? It's real good stuff."
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The lack of complexity in the dishes means that most of what's there is familiar, as well, so that Thor doesn't have to puzzle his way around the buffet table. A little of this, a little of that, something to eat while the meat is still cooking. He tilts his head slightly when Steve points out the potato salad, something that hasn't come up during his time spent on Midgard before. "What makes it a salad, exactly?" he wonders idly, even as he dutifully scoops a serving onto his plate. Salads are supposed to be lettuce and vegetables, or so he'd thought. But apparently the fruit is a salad too, and there isn't any lettuce, or any ingredients in common.
Earth languages can be so weird.
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There used to be a time when Steve hated eating in front of others. Hated how his metabolism needed him to eat enough food for a whole family in a sitting so far as standards for how he was raised were concerned. So far food hasn't been short exactly, even if there haven't been a whole lot of options compared to usual. Steve knows a lot of Depression Era simple dishes he can make to stretch things out more, too. But here, among the remnants of the Avengers, Steve isn't afraid to load up his plate.
They know how he needs to eat. He'd get more shit if he didn't take his fill.
Steve still isn't going to linger over the food though. The sooner he eats it the less opportunity there will be for people to stare or to watch him eat. Once he's taken his seat again by his beer he's going to dig into the potato salad with a pleased murmur.
"Any good seafood recipes come out of Asvera yet? Fishing village like that, I have to imagine folks are starting to experiment a bit."
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And it is good, if not entirely what he'd expected. Thor has no qualms about digging in once they're seated, in the grand old tradition of Avengers dinners. Not that they were usually outside in the past, but it's... nice, and he's inclined to help keep any rainclouds at bay if that becomes necessary. He certainly isn't planning to make it rain on his friend's birthday.
"A little," he agrees. "Some more successful than others. Salt cod pizza wasn't exactly a hit, but there's a fish stew that's getting popular. There's a lot of preserved fish still in the storehouses to work with; that's most of what's getting tested. We didn't eat much fish on Asgard, before. Most of it came from Vanaheim. There's been more and more fresh catch coming in on the boats though, so they must be getting the hang of it."
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Something Steve hasn't had a whole lot of lately or really ever since he woke up with his enhanced body.
Thor may be upset that he hasn't brought anything to give Steve but just him being here is giving the soldier a reprieve he hadn't even known he'd needed. He slows down while he eats, glancing over at Thor while the other speaks.
"Lotta folks are having to learn new ways to adapt. I'm surprised every day by how resourceful and resilient they are."
They're both going to get a generous slice of the bread handed to them by Natasha when she sits down nibbling on what looks to be a literal Grilled cheese sandwich. She hasn't been in on the conversation up until now but settles herself into a chair easily as though she'd been here the whole time.
"Speaking of getting the hang of things, you can both keep your opinions to yourselves if the pound cake isn't very good. I'm a lot of things but a homemaker sure as hell isn't one."
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The longer he sits here, the more his nerves ease, and he can't blame it on the weak beer this time. It's been harder to smile in recent days, but today, it's just a little easier.
"I am too," he agrees, and hopes that the Asgardians can learn to be just as adaptive as those whose homeworld they now share.
Thor smiles when Natasha joins them, accepting the bread with a nod of thanks. He doesn't quite laugh at her preemptive defense of her cooking, just shifts in his seat a little to include her in their comfortable little circle. "It's a cake, how bad could it be?"
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