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That morning started like most in the Watchtower: with the smell of burnt coffee, clanging weights, and someone obnoxious yelling “I didn’t touch your fucking Wheaties!” from the gym.
Yelena had just been settling in for her breakfast (two eggs, toast, and the satisfaction of being the only competent person in the entire place) when she heard it:
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”
John’s voice echoed from the common room, equal parts disbelief and personal injury.
Across from her, Bob, still in his oversized sweater and spooning cereal that was more sugar than grain, looked up nervously. “Uh-oh. That’s his ‘I lost something important’ voice,” he told Yelena.
She didn’t even look up from her toast. “What is it this time? Did someone use your towel again?”
“No!” John barked, then corrected, “Well, yes, but that’s not the point. Look at this!”
A tablet was suddenly thrust under her nose. On its screen: People Magazine’s annual ‘Sexiest Avenger’ issue. And there, in big glossy letters above a photo of Ava leaning against a Quinjet, arms crossed, half-smirk in place —
#1: Ava Starr (a.k.a. Ghost).
Yelena nearly spat her coffee. “Oh my god. They picked her?”
Bob blinked at the photo, squinting. “That’s... wow. That’s actually a really good picture. She looks kinda—uh—strong? In a good way. Professional strong.”
Yelena smirked. “Oh, Bob. You’re blushing.”
Bob’s spoon clinked against the bowl. “What? No, I’m not!”
She reached over to pat his shoulder. “Don't worry. I won't hold it against you. Ghost Girl does look good here.” She squinted at the picture. “When was this taken? Ava doesn’t even look like she’s wearing make-up.”
John groaned. “That’s what I’m saying! She doesn’t even try! She ghosts around, wears her stealth suit, mumbles through interviews. Meanwhile, I’m out there, doing Val’s PR tours and charity events and—”
“--still losing to someone who avoids cameras like plague.” Yelena grinned, leaning back. “Sucks to be you.”
From the corner, Bucky looked up from his newspaper. He didn’t seem surprised; just very mildly concerned. Like someone had just told him a kitten had wandered onto a highway.
“She’s gonna hate that,” he muttered.
John’s head snapped toward him. “Hate it? She’s on the cover, Barnes! That’s national honor!”
“Pretty sure she’ll see it as a national embarrassment,” Bucky said. He folded the paper neatly, as if bracing for impact. “You might wanna duck when she finds out.”
Then his phone made a sound, and he took it out.
Meanwhile, Bob raised a tentative hand, like he was in class. “Should we, um… maybe not tell her? Let her find out naturally? You know, in her natural time? Which, if we’re lucky, might be around never?”
Yelena snorted. “My very good man, where’s the fun in that?”
“I just think,” Bob said quickly, “that when someone’s that private, maybe broadcasting her ranking to the breakfast table might be… unsafe. For us.”
“Point,” Bucky said, almost distracted.
“Seconded,” John added.
“Denied,” Yelena countered cheerfully. “I win.”
Alexei lumbered in at that exact moment, shirtless as usual, holding a cereal box that probably expired during the Cold War. “What is this noise so early in morning? Are we under attack?”
“Kind of,” Yelena said sweetly. “Ava’s about to be attacked. By fame.” She raised the tablet so her dad could see it.
Alexei squinted at the tablet - then laughed in response. “Ah! Ava! Number one! Very good. I always knew she had star power.” He pronounced it ‘starr power’, looking deeply proud of his pun. “In Soviet Russia, we never did magazine rankings, but if we did—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Yelena waved him off, “you’d be number one for ‘Most likely to terrify small children.’ We get it.”
Bucky smothered a laugh behind his mug.
Bob, still chewing, added helpfully, “You’d probably win ‘Loudest Breakfast Entry,’ too.”
Alexei looked at him, squinting, then gave a slow, approving nod. “You are funny, Bob. I like you.”
Bob blinked. “Oh. Um. Thanks. I think.”
The chaos simmered for about ten seconds.
Until the sound of soft footsteps made them all turn.
Then Ava walked in, still in sweats, completely unaware of the social bomb waiting for her.
“Morning,” she mumbled, reaching for the coffee pot.
Four people immediately went still.
John grabbed the tablet from Yelena’s hand and hid it behind his back like a guilty teenager. Bucky avoided eye contact, pretending to browse his phone. Alexei went back to eating his cereal. Bob tried to shrink into his clothes.
But Yelena? Wasn’t going to miss her chance. No way in fucking hell.
“Hey, so. Congratulations,” she said, in the most casual yet cat-like tone imaginable.
Ava blinked. “...For what?”
“Oh, you know. Your face.” She gestured generally at her. “For your entire physical... existence.”
Ava frowned, suspicious. “Yelena.”
Yelena grinned, delighted. “You’ve just been appointed People Magazine’s ‘Sexiest Avenger!’ Number one. You’re now the face of irresistible mystery, like James Bond. But girl!”
"What." Ava froze mid-pour. “You’re joking.”
“She’s really not,” John admitted, stepping forward with the tablet like he was offering bad news to a monarch. “You uh... kinda wiped the floor with all of us.”
Ava stared at the image, then let out a quiet, incredulous groan. “Oh, for god’s sake.”
Yelena was thriving, nearly vibrating in her seat in glee. “You beat Thor. Do you know how hard that is? The man’s hair has its own fan club!”
“I didn’t even pose for this,” Ava said, eyes narrowing at the photo. “This is from Val’s press thing in Monaco. I wasn’t even looking at the camera.”
“That’s probably why you won,” John muttered.
Bucky’s lips twitched. “He’s not wrong.”
John shot him a look. “Don’t start, Barnes. You were second, okay? You don’t get to act chill about this.”
Yelena perked up. “Wait. Bucky was second? You two beat Thor?” She grabbed the tablet from Ava. “I didn’t get to read that far! Ohhh, this just gets better!”
Ava turned to him, eyebrows raised. “You were?”
Bucky shifted in his seat. “Uh. Yeah. Apparently.” He shook his phone at them. “Val’s already making plans about it.”
Ava groaned in response. "Shit. Quick, someone hand me a knife. Gonna rip my face off."
Alexei used his body to cover the cupboards dramatically. "Not a chance!"
Bob said, trying to help, “Don't, Ava! I mean, you didn't look weird or anything. You looked—uh—professional. Heroic. Like... a person who uses conditioner ethically and responsibly.”
Yelena cackled. “Bob, that’s the weirdest compliment I’ve ever heard. But you know what? You’re not wrong.”
“Oh. Thanks,” he said weakly. “I practice.”
Ava sighed. “Wow. It’s like People Magazine has nothing better to do than rank people based on what. Facial features?”
Yelena patted her arm. “Relax. Think of it this way: you’re glossy magazine royalty. Unlike Captain America wannabe here.” She inclined her head to one side. Towards John.
He crossed his arms, jaw tightening, but thankfully, there was some amusement under the sulk. “I’m fine, by the way. Totally fine. I’m just saying, if I’d known brooding and minimal eye contact was the new sexy, I’d have retired my smile a long time ago.”
“Oh, please,” Yelena teased, “you couldn’t stop smiling if your life depended on it. Your teeth have their own PR agent.”
Bob leaned toward Bucky and whispered, “Do... do you guys actually have PR agents? Is that a thing?”
Bucky shook his head, barely suppressing a grin. “Don’t feed her, Bob. You’ll only make it worse.”
The laughter that followed was loud, genuine, and, for a rare few minutes, good-natured. Even Ava cracked a small smile, though she tried to hide it behind her coffee mug.
It wasn’t that John Walker was jealous.
Okay… maybe a little.
But it wasn’t the stupid title that got to him. It was the fact that Ava hadn’t done a single damn thing to try. No media circuit, no charming talk show moments, no “Hey America, I’m approachable!” campaign. Just... existing. Quiet, effortless, maddeningly oblivious.
And somehow, that worked like a charm.
He found her later in the training room, running through drills. Her movements were all sharp precision and focus. She never looked like she was trying to impress anyone.
And maybe that was the entire point.
He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “So, Miss Sexiest Avenger,” he said, voice dripping with mock formality. “How’s it feel to be America’s number one heartthrob?”
She didn’t even pause mid-punch. “Mortifying. Like I want to set the internet on fire. Or commit online murder. Take your bloody pick.”
He smirked. “You know, some of us work our butts off for public image points.”
“Yeah, and some of us don’t fucking care,” she replied simply. “I didn’t ask for them, all right?”
“Oh, I’m aware,” he admitted, stepping further in. “That’s probably why you got them.”
She glanced at him then, and it was enough to make his entire chest tighten. She didn’t even realize she looked good like this, sweaty and powerful and–
He tried to play it off with a grin. “Still, I’m calling for a rematch next year. You and Bucky are on my radar. Maybe I’ll start brooding more. See if it helps.”
Ava snorted, low and unguarded. “You? Brooding?”
“Hey, I can brood,” he said defensively. “I’ve got emotional range.”
“Sure you do,” she said, clearly unconvinced.
He stepped closer, a little bolder now. “But, you know. Are you seriously okay with it?”
Ava shrugged, tossing a training baton from one hand to the other. “It’s just a poll. Doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe,” he said, watching her. “But I think it means something when half the country’s suddenly realizing how good you look in a fight suit.”
She rolled her eyes, but he noticed that her cheeks had colored faintly. “Walker—”
He grinned, sensing victory. “I’m just saying, if you ever need a bodyguard from the adoring masses, I’m available. For a modest fee.”
“Uh-huh," she replied, voice dry as dust. "And what’s the fee?”
He leaned in, voice dropping low enough that even the security cameras might’ve blushed. “Might want to give me tips on how to be all mysterious and shit. Maybe even help me dye my hair brown. For the press.”
Ava gave him a look — the kind that said she was pretending not to be amused. “You really want to win, don't you?”
“Well, I mean.” He shrugged. "Not gonna say no to becoming glossy magazine royalty."
From behind the glass, Yelena’s muffled voice called, “You two done flirting? Val’s calling for a meeting! About your very sexy ranking! And it's something I want to attend, for once!”
Ava groaned. “Oh my god. I hate this place.”
John just laughed. “Nah. You love it here.”
And when she finally cracked the smallest, reluctant smile, he figured, yeah, maybe she did.