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November second. It's Ava Starr's birthday. And in typical need-to-know basis, she hasn't told anyone.
Of course, there's circumstances that have kept her otherwise occupied, like spending the last day recovering in the infirmary since the Halloween attack. And being tearfully reunited with her father figure that she hasn't seen in nearly… a decade, has it really been? She's more concerned with stretching out the stiffness of her back from being bedridden than being another day that rounds up to an entire year all at once older. The subject of her age has never come up in discussion as a matter of any importance, so clearly it isn't one. And if asked, her teammates could probably ballpark it close enough, so informing them is as pointless as saying her hair is brown or her eyes are some ambiguous shade between blue and green.
Between her health and her line of work, she never actually expected to make it this long anyway, but asking anyone to recognize or celebrate that feels frivolous and selfish. Things she was always trained not to be when her bare minimum needs were already treated as some great debt she owed for her continued existence.
And they did just attend a party, which ended poorly, so why put any expectation on her teammates to throw something together last minute? She's fairly certain that sort of thing is only for children, even if she wasn't one of those children that had the benefit of cakes and balloons. Not past the age of 6, at least. Trying to grasp onto the memories before that is just an exercise of self-inflicted misery that she tries not to indulge in too regularly.
No, Ava really doesn't expect today to be all that different from any other, when she finally musters up the energy to roll out of the hospital bed she was technically discharged from hours ago to face the day, well past noon and three missed calls. Because as much as she'd prefer to spend it sulking about like she has nothing better to do, Bill is out there and she can't really trust what the insufferably well-meaning residents of the Watchtower are subjecting him to.
And fine, because she does miss him beneath all her flimsy excuses about survival, even if she's still struggling with how to properly make up for it. Maybe a tour would at least help facilitate catching up, but she suspects he's already been offered five times over.
So she reluctantly pulls on a pair of loose fitting joggers and a sweatshirt that were left for her, by Bob, while her suit's off being checked over for damage. The inside lining of the fabric is plush and comfortable against her skin, though her nerves burn with every disjointed movement. Low grade enough for her to ignore as background static, she rated herself a 1 out of 10 when the nurse asked about her pain. Which on any regular person would be a 6 or 7, her tolerance levels long since shot. What was there for anyone to do about it, anyway, than give her some ineffective pain killers out of pity.
The bottoms of her socks are grippy and strange, in a way that keeps her vaguely amused while she pads down the hallway to the kitchen, craving cereal though she's 50/50 on whether or not there will be enough milk left to make a proper bowl.
She doesn't expect to find her teammates, every single one of them in attendance around the table, as if it were a meeting she didn't know scheduled and were waiting for this moment of her arrival. Or maybe this is an intervention. She swallows uncomfortably at the sudden wave of attention directed her way, uncertain how to react.
The rest of the details begin to filter in. A cake at the center of the table littered with candles. Colorfully wrapped boxes and bags stuffed with tissue paper perched along the counter. Bob with a halfway blown up balloon pursed against his lips, and several more scattered behind him. A banner strung across the back wall saying-
"Happy Birthday!" her teammates declare in varying degrees of enthusiasm that puts the hair at the back of her neck on edge.
Ava immediately vanishes. The pitiful whine of a deflating balloon accompanies her exit, the following confused silence interrupted by "Wait, Ava!"
Of course it's Yelena that's first to give chase after her. She feels almost bad when Yelena rushes down the opposite way than she's retreated.
Ava's not sure where to go other than away from the immediate vicinity, away from the surprise they'd plotted against her. Her room? That'd be too predictable, and so she wanders a bit before giving up and flopping down in the common area with her face cradled in her palms. Feeling stupid as the knee-jerk reaction catches up to her, she contemplates how more humiliating it would be to go back-
"There you are," Yelena bounds over the back of the couch to land beside her in a sprawl of limbs.
Ava chews at the inside of her cheek, poorly pretending not to notice she's been joined.
"Sooooo," Yelena prompts. "What's got you so upset about cake and balloons?"
"I didn't ask for any of that," Ava grinds out from behind a loose curtain of hair. Yelena begins pulling it back from her face, gently, undeterred by the small flinch.
"No, but we found out despite your sneaky secret keeping ways."
"How? Did Bill-"
"No, no. Don't go blaming the old man for this." The sense of betrayal sizzles out. "He actually tried warning us that you might not take it so well. But you know me, always invading personal space." She doesn't sound all that sorry about it.
"It was a nice thought," Ava finally admits, now that the initial shock has worn off it's not as if she can pretend there was any ill-intent behind it. "But it's overwhelming. I'm not used to that sort of thing."
"You know," Yelena begins, idly curling a strand of Ava's hair around her finger. "I don't even know my own birthday."
"Right, I get it. Your life has been so much worse than mine, I should just be grateful for-"
"No, no. I never said anything like that."
Ava stares.
"Okay, so I might've said something along those lines. Once! But that's not what I'm implying here. I mean that I get it, living so long in survival mode that you've convinced yourself that the things you want are actually a threat. And that enjoying yourself is a weakness."
Ava can't outright deny it, no. She sits up a bit straighter, still frowning as she considers. "I don't like feeling as if I owe anyone anything," she breathes out, as if even uttering such a statement makes her more vulnerable.
"Well, but you do," Yelena claps her on the back in consolation of the truth. "We all do. But not in that gross, exploitive way that we grew up with. That's part of having real, human connections now. It sucks, I know. You're our friend, our teammate. Appreciating each other and fulfilling our needs, even the ones we suppress, so that we can feel a little less broken is what we're here for."
"That's so corny," Ava sighs, but she's already given in. There's never any use in pushing back against Yelena, especially when she's right.
Yelena loops her arm beneath Ava's, to start pulling them back up off the couch. "Come on, before they eat all the cake without us."
"What kind of cake is it?"
"Red velvet."
"And who told?"
"Nuh-uh," Yelena denies cheerfully. "I'm not putting anyone in witness protection."
When they arrive back at the kitchen, the guys are still lingering around the table. Bob's clearly busied himself with inflating another dozen or so balloons that John is kicking as they get underneath his pacing feet. Alexei is proudly showing off various magazine covers to Bill, who seems to be doing his best to feign interest after halfway through the pile. "This one has interview statement from corrupt city mayor, who declares us national security the- Lena! Ava!"
So much for not drawing more attention. Ava gives a reluctant, embarrassed wave to clear the lingering nervous tension. "Sorry about the dramatics. You all gave me a bit too much of a surprise."
"Well at least we didn't turn off the lights and jump out when you arrived," John deadpans, looking straight at Bob who shrugs without any attempt at defending himself for having suggested it.
"Somebody would have needed dental implants after," Ava confirms her absolute dislike of that idea.
"Which you do all have coverage for," Mel adds informatively from the corner, on her tablet. Always working? Or playing candy crush. Ava's never sure.
"So generous. Hard to smile for magazine covers with a gaping maw," Yelena nods along.
"Nobody's losing any teeth," Bucky sighs out, playing the part of disappointed dad more than either of the actual adoptive fathers in the room.
Bill pats the empty chair next to him in invitation, looking somewhere between amused and baffled by the ongoing antics. Ava slides in next to him, and allows them to sing her the traditional birthday song that's thankfully not too out of key.
After the cake is sliced and devoured, and Ava's feeling less on edge about the entire thing, Bob announces that it's time for presents. Ava's hands fidget a bit beneath the table, and Bill puts a calming hand over hers.
"Mine first, mine first!" Yelena grins, pushing a modestly sized box over for her to unwrap. Ava pokes at the corners of the paper, aware of everyone watching her, and then rips into it. It's a crocheting for beginners kit, with a couple cute animals as examples on the front. She tilts her head curiously. "Picked one up for myself too, figured we can learn together while catching up on bad 90s sitcoms. Plus you're often fidgeting, so I figured you needed something more fun to do with your hands."
Bob's gift is a heated mug, which she decides is rather practical as he points out she tends to wander off and forget her tea for a few hours before coming back to it cold. She hadn't realized anyone paid attention to such a habit, much less cared to find a solution to it.
Bucky's is a set of knives, which he declares is to prevent her from stealing his own. Ava fakes offense at the very real accusation, as John pulls them over to inspect and approve of the quality. Yelena has to double check, of course, nodding her approval after testing one on a defenseless balloon. Bob's the only one that jumps at the POP.
John's gift turns out to be a board game, though she doesn't get a chance to process before everyone else loudly groans. "No, no bad choice." "Capitalistic scam-" "Are you trying to get us all killed?" "I get to be the train." "Absolutely not, don't bring that evil into this house."
The passionate reaction only makes Ava more intrigued. Sure, she's heard of Monopoly, but she doesn't get the big deal, why it's so controversial. She's never had anyone to play games with before, and she flips the box for more details.
"I figure Ava's been deprived enough of a normal childhood, I didn't want her to miss out on the most essential character building experience of all," John grins, clearly enjoying the heated protests. Apparently this is how the game is meant to be played, with gleeful antagonism.
Which makes Ava think that she'll love to hate it. "You all have to play with me," Ava declares.
"Right now?"
"Right now."
"You haven't finished opening your presents yet," she's reminded. Which catches her off guard. She's already received more presents in the last half hour than she has over the last entire decade. It itches at her skin, but the unopened boxes have to be addressed eventually.
Alexei's is next, and it's a whole goddamn pinata that he pulls out of a bag with great gusto, shaped like an oversized ant. "Asked Dr. Foster what you would like to beat to smithereens," he grins mischievously. And ironically enough, it's so adorable that Ava almost feels bad for absolutely destroying it with the whacking stick as the rest of the team cheers her on. If anyone else wanted a turn, they don't dare interrupt.
Candy rains down with bits of colorful tissue paper and mangled ant limbs, and Ava catches herself laughing from the sheer exhilaration of it. It's been awhile since she's let herself go.
"Easy," John places a steadying hand on her shoulder as she sways in and out of focus, as she's far more prone without her suit to hold all her vibrating particles in place. She leans into the touch, before becoming more consciously aware of it, of their company, and shoves the bat into his hand.
"Your turn," she declares, except there really isn't much left. John takes a few swings of the remains dangling from the string he helped hoist, to be a good sport. Bob claps.
Mel clears her throat as Bob and Bucky help clear the debris, and presents a small delicate box upon the table. "From both me and Valentina," she explains as Ava curiously opens it to reveal a pair of simple pearl-studded earrings inside.
They're lovely, she supposes if she were the type for jewelry, but John leaning over her shoulder with a confused, "hm" supports her own initial reaction.
"Why?" And she's not meaning to be rude, but she's clearly not the only one looking at Mel for an explanation. She likes Mel, but she doesn't feel like they're on an exchanging jewelry level.
"They're actually EMPs," Mel reassures before it can get too weird. "I designed something that would be subtle enough, easy to keep on you in case of an emergency. Valentina helped finance the development and approved of the specs. She's always a fan of deceptive practicality." And Ava could see this as something the woman herself would wear, like an ultra-feminine James Bond.
"Neat," she decides, because having another weapon on her feels increasingly necessary these days. Even with teammates having her back, suddenly there's a lot more targets upon it.
"And that leaves me last," Dr. Foster looks around to confirm before pulling out a mid-sized gift bag. He's been more quiet than Ava's known him, except when it was just the two of them there was a lot more silence to fill. But she knows Bill well enough to suspect he's been observing their interactions as intently as he would an experiment, notating details and patterns and forming his own judgments that maybe she'll be able to poke out of him later once they're alone.
For now, she accepts the bag. "It was a bit short notice," Bill explains. "But I've been, well... Open it," he encourages.
Underneath the layers of tissue paper, Ava's fingers close around soft fur that jolts her with nostalgia. She tenderly pulls out a stuffed white bear, and without thinking, clutches it tightly to her chest. She's never been one for toys, hadn't really been allowed them when SHIELD was doing its best to groom her into a killer. But the bear that Bill gave her upon their first meeting in the orphanage, she's cherished ever since. "Polarity," she breathes out with relief, not even the least bit embarrassed for showing the stuffed toy more affection than any of her teammates knew her capable of.
"I sewed up the arm and reattached her eye, so she's nearly good as new," Bill informs her, looking quite relieved himself that she's accepted it so readily.
"Thank you, Bill," she rests her head on his shoulder, and it's muscle memory that's never truly gone away as he rubs at her back.
Things aren't nearly so wholesome after the brutal game of Monopoly they engage in, ending so predictably in the board being flipped and pieces flying everywhere. Less predictably that it's Bob the one that does it after Bucky sabotages his railroad empire. They don't quite come to blows, or tears, but everyone decides it's for the best to part ways and cool down for a while after Yelena breaks out some colorful Russian curses that only half the team understands but the other half can make decent guesses of the translations.
Ava's sitting alone with a cup of tea in her new mug, bear settled in her lap in her favorite chair in the empty common room, when John slides back in his unsubtle way.
"You were quite the instigator, inflicting that game upon our peaceful tower."
"You enjoyed it," he points out, and she laughs her guilty plea. "It's really the classic bonding activity. If your friendship can withstand Monopoly, it can make it through anything."
Ava doesn't ask if that includes his failed marriage, which clearly wasn't held together by tiny plastic houses and paper currency. Intrusive thoughts are sometimes best left inside, she's learned.
"As long as I get to be the wheelbarrow."
"Nobody wants to be the wheelbarrow, Ava."
She wrinkles her nose in indignation. "It's a perfectly fine piece. Nobody else argued for it because they knew I was the birthday girl." Said with exaggeration, the first time in her life that's actually mattered.
"We used to play a lot of party games, back when I was growing up. Not sure what kids these days are doing."
"Something about 67 skibidi," Ava responds, visibly pained for even knowing that term. Even if she didn't understand what it even meant.
John winces, thankful for his ignorance. At least he could trust Olivia was dead set against the whole 'ipad kid' parenting failure to allow their son to mindlessly consume such content. "But I figured since you missed out on that sort of thing."
"Yeah, not a lot you can do by yourself, locked up behind glass most of the day. Played a lot of first person RPGs to fill my free time, back when I was on the run. Was good at it. But it felt a bit too much like work, you know?" She switched over to Animal Crossing for awhile to unwind from the stress of her job, but she didn't want to fully open herself up to the mockery.
"My parents were pretty strict on video games, they were the type that thought the devil was lurking in Mario. Lemar and I really got into Settlers of Catan, back in high school. We could try that one next."
"You never would have hung out with somebody like me, in high school," Ava points out.
He looks her over, considering. "You're right, who would have wanted to hang out with such a smart, pretty girl?"
Ava pouts, just slightly, as if she's offended by being described in such a way because it goes against the narrative she's decided upon. "No, I was weird. An outcast. I would've been the nerd in the back of the class that nobody invited to the parties, unless it was as a prank."
"You really only know what you've seen from those high school movies that Yelena's made you watch, huh? Because I was the popular, accomplished, football quarterback-"
"Go Bears," Ava quotes teasingly.
"You think I would have shoved you in lockers and stolen your lunch money?"
"Oh, you weren't stealing my money, Walker. I'd have made you eat my boot for lunch instead."
And that's not half as unappealing as she thinks it sounds. John shakes his head. "I was a straight-A student too, you know. Not just a dumb jock. So you would've been all grumpy at getting assigned as my lab partner, and then been pleasantly surprised when I actually did my half of the project."
"You barely understood what quantum superposition was, when I explained it," Ava reminds him.
"High school science, okay!"
Ava huffs, amused at his defense. "You're the one that told my birthday, aren't you?" She doesn't have any real evidence, but it itches at her intuition.
He hovers near her chair, instead of taking a seat himself on the couch nearby, and Ava notices he has a hand awkwardly shoved into his pants pocket. She stares directly at it, wanting to make some sort of remark, when he clears his throat.
"Yeah," he admits, and she isn't as mad about it anymore to do more than stick her tongue out at him. "Saw it on your medical chart and convinced the others we should do something nice. I… actually have another gift for you."
Which is quite the statement given where her mind has wandered, and Ava gulps down hot tea to keep herself from sputtering.
"I didn't want to give it in front of the others, because it's a little personal." John pauses, giving her a strange look over as if she might require the heimlich. "You okay?"
"Yeah, just went down the wrong hole, is all," and damn that doesn't help matters either.
She's spared the scrutiny by John pulling out a portable cassette player, temporarily distracted by untangling the headphone wires to provide any explanation.
"It's… are you going to sing to me?" Ava asks, leaning forward suspiciously. Except if he is, maybe she is slightly intrigued.
"No," John denies. She expects him to claim that he doesn't sing at all, though she's heard him in the gym showers. When he adds in, "I'd have brought out my guitar for that."
"Bet you're a natural Springsteen," Ava smirks.
John pops open the player to eject the cartridge after fumbling a bit, and hands it over. He politely ignores how Ava's fingers pass through on the first swipe, before she's able to grasp hold. She had struggled with handling the paper money during the game too, and there was one embarrassing incident with the dice that she got rather flustered about. "There's an A and B side."
The songs are written out in a minuscule version of his penmanship, many she recognizes mixed with just as many she doesn't. Some due to the abbreviations to make it all fit on the label sticker, some due to the fact that Ava doesn't actually know the artists or titles of half the music she listens to.
"It's a mixtape," he adds in, not too encouraged by her lack of reaction. "I made it."
"I see that," Ava flips it over, still assessing, before she finally smiles. "I like music." It feels like such a dumb thing to say, and that's why her cheeks are so warm, right? Embarrassment. Nothing else.
"I know," he agrees, smiling a bit hopefully. "Heard you humming along to one on the radio when you were making coffee. They're… uh, songs that reminded me of you. Of us," John finally gets out.
"Of us," Ava repeats thoughtfully. "The team?"
"No. Just us." He pauses, expecting her to deny that there even is a them. But she doesn't. "It's a bit corny, I know. But it was something we did for our… friends, back before tiktoks and youtubes. More personal than gifts from the store." He scratches the back of his neck, and Ava nods along.
"Want to listen to it with me?" she asks, almost shyly.
They each end up with one of the earpods, heads dipped in close together due to the limited length of wire as John hits play. The first song is Pony, which takes her a moment to recognize, and then she laughs appreciatively when she does. "God, the limo!"
When it's time to turn the tape over to Side B, John notices that Ava's fast asleep against his shoulder, still cradling her bear close with one arm, her other looped around his. Well, it'd be rude of him to extract himself from the chair they're now sharing, wouldn't it?
Doesn't take John long to drift off either, unaware of the trouble it's going to cause them both in the morning.