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Networking disguised as a charity event - that was how Valentine described this whole thing.
"You'd all like it, I think," she'd said during their briefing, briefly using the invitations to fan her face as she talked. "There's going to be alcohol--" She flicks one envelope Yelena's way, "--mountains of food--" Alexei's flew next, "--people who won't necessarily care about what you've done in public--" John's landed clearly in front of him, "--people who'd be impressed by your high kill count--" Ava's invitation soared next, "--and best of all, possible connections."
Valentine held Bucky's gaze for two seconds before personally handing him his. "The kind that could decide whether our New Avengers gig would still exist next year."
Yelena had crossed her arms and scoffed. "I thought we agreed our whole budget issue was mostly a 'you' problem, Val," she said, her tone saccharine sweet.
"And it is," the woman replied. "But I'm not exactly made of money. Which is why I'm selling you. But, more importantly, you'd be selling you." Valentina addressed them all as she said, "You all need to show these rich bastards why they'd benefit from supporting you. Why throwing their money your way would be worth their while. Otherwise–"
"Our way?" John had asked, already scanning the contents of the invitation. "I thought this charity event was for the benefit of--" He grimaced. "--malnourished kids in Africa?"
"Oh, it is," Valentina said. "But if you think some bald kid with a protruded belly in Somalia's going to really benefit from this charity ball, well." She smiled at him, and it was far from nice. "You have much to learn about rich people's events, John."
And now, here they were.
Minus Bob, of course, since Valentina has yet to announce the Sentry as part of the New Avengers lineup.
And if the people making up the current lineup of the New Avengers had a say in it?
She never would.
As it stands, they're all scattered in a ballroom the size of a basketball court, under bright lights of chandeliers that were as big as Quinjet engines. Opulence and power were the name of the game here, that much Bucky knew. Everywhere he turns, he'd see gold accents, gold jewelry, gold everything. Around him, conversations overlapped, but never too loud, never too hushed. Somewhere, someone would always laugh, but it would sound somewhat practiced, never genuine.
Servers slowly weaved through the crowd, carrying trays with champagne or finger foods that cost more than most people's rent. He'd accepted a glass earlier out of habit - and as an excuse to disengage from a conversation that makes him want to claw his eyes out - but it remains untouched in his hand ever since.
Discreetly, he takes stock of how his team is currently faring.
Near the center of the room, Yelena is unexpectedly thriving. Not that Bucky should be surprised; she could be funny and charming and downright delightful whenever she wanted to. Her posture is loose but deliberate, a half-smile on her lips as she listens to a socialite ramble on and on. She does look more amused than anything - like she'd already judged the attendees as idiots needing to be coddled.
And in some ways, they were.
Nearby, John is similarly occupied, surrounded as he is by his own group of dignified-looking men. He looks... confident. Self-assured. Then again, Bucky remembers that John might have received a bit of training on how to handle both media and crowds in preparation for his role as Captain America. This could be it in action.
So long as no one mentions what exactly he ended up doing with Steve's shield.
Alexei, though?
Alexei was in his element.
He's drawn quite a few people just by being himself: loud, unabashed, maybe even a little unhinged. Alexei's gesturing too broadly now, halfway through a story that no one in attendance could prove or, more importantly, disprove. And it seemed to be working; he'd already charmed at least three people into thinking he still is Russia's gift to mankind.
And Bucky?
Knows how to play his part.
So long as he appears agreeable, so long as he doesn't scare anyone, so long as he leans more into the identity of the man who fought alongside the original Avengers against Thanos and is now a respectable Congressman and less into the mindless weapon HYDRA used to kill innocent people--
He could do this.
He would do this.
But something is... off.
His eyes sweep the room again, checking each of the people he came to the charity event with, and it takes him a moment to realize--
Ava's missing.
Bucky stills. Then, excusing himself from the dull conversation, he moves a bit closer to the edge of the room, scanning the quiet corners, the alcoves, the small places where people tend to drift to whenever they want to take a breather from all the pretense.
Nothing.
He frowns.
She hadn't said anything about leaving. And she wouldn't - at least, not without telling anyone, possibly Yelena or John. Ava didn't just disappear like that.
Bucky catches himself, then silently adds: Ava didn't just disappear like that anymore.
Which meant she was still here.
Just... not here, here.
But somewhere in the area.
He set his glass down on a server's tray without looking and started moving out of the main crowd into a quiet corridor where fewer people loitered about. He checked a few adjoining rooms before a faint movement caught the corner of his eye and--
--there.
At the far end of the corridor, near a huge window that offered a view of the city outside, stood the Avengers' resident Ghost. She isn't doing anything outside of just standing there, really. Arms loosely folded in the middle, eyes on an outdoor scene that seemed to interest her way more than whatever was happening behind her in the ballroom.
And to be fair to her, she wasn't exactly missing out on anything.
Bucky pauses.
This is where he should leave her alone. He'd done his part; he'd already seen for himself that she was fine, that she hadn't yet left. She clearly sought this place out because she wanted solitude, not spotlight. Which was very... understandable.
Very Ava.
Still, his feet refused to move.
And then she must have felt his attention because she turned sharply, her expression softening just the slightest bit when she realized who was looking at her.
"Oh," she says, voice low. "Hey."
Taking that as an invitation, Bucky moves closer to the window - to her - and replies, just as low, "Hey."
She furrows her brows at him as she asks, "Why are you here?"
He tucks a hand in his pocket as he responds, "Why are you here?"
"I asked you first," she says, almost belligerently.
So he shrugs and tells her honestly, "I was looking for you."
"...oh," she says again. Before adding, "Why?"
"You weren't in there. And I thought--"
"--you thought I'd left."
Bucky shrugs again. "Crossed my mind, yeah."
She folds her arms more firmly now as she replies, "Obviously, I haven't. Though I'd be lying if I said I haven't considered it. I could just... take the limo we used. Or anyone's limo, really, and leave you all here to rot."
The corners of his mouth quirk up. "That'd be great for the image we're building."
Ava sighs. "Why'd you think I didn't?"
Here, he looks at her. This close, Bucky could see the signs she tries to hide: the stiffness on her shoulders, the way her fingers tapped a senseless rhythm against her arm.
"How long have you been here?" he asks.
Now it's her turn to shrug. "A while."
He inclines his head in the direction of the ballroom and adds, "You planning on coming back there?"
She hesitates.
Long enough to make him realize something must have happened.
So Bucky squints at her and prompts, "That bad?"
"Worse," Ava replies with a short laugh. "I think I offended someone when I tried that whole networking thing."
"Just one?" he asks lightly.
"Well," she says slyly. "Maybe more."
He doesn't say anything.
"It's just... they ask weird questions," Ava tells him. "Like there was this one guy who asked what it was like to phase. He probably thought it was a party trick, like, I don't know, making balloon animals or something. So I told him, actually, it was more like getting torn apart at the molecular level and then getting put back together wrong in the worst way possible--"
Bucky couldn't help it; he winces.
"--but then this obnoxious woman chimed in that my pain was probably similar to giving birth, so I told her I wouldn't know since I haven't exactly given birth, but maybe one day I will, and only then will I know if the pain levels are even comparable, so I'd have to get back on her on that one. Unless, of course, I die first before that happens, so--"
He tried to stop it, he really did.
Except he couldn't.
Bucky actually laughs.
Short, loud, and totally unexpected.
For a moment, Ava looks completely indignant. Like him laughing at her pain was incredibly wrong of him.
Then her shoulders sag. "Told you it was worse than bad."
"Sorry," he says, rubbing at his mouth. "It was just. You were too--" Bucky eventually settles on, "--honest."
"What was I supposed to do?" she asks. "Lie?"
"Think of it as… giving them something a bit easier to digest," he says. “No need to get technical when you don’t have to.”
She thinks about that for a second before shaking her head. "Yeah, no," Ava says, looking out the window again. "I'm not good at that." And then she adds, "But you are. Yelena, John, and Alexei, too. You're all good at the whole..." Here, she gestures vaguely, "people thing."
He frowns. "I don't think anyone’s ever told me that."
"You are," she insists. "I've watched you, you know. People actually want to listen to you talk. Not that you do a lot of it, but--"
"Less chances to make mistakes," he cuts in.
"Which also plays into your whole mysterious Congressman vibe, I think," she says.
"I've had some practice," he says, linking his arms behind him. “It’s not easy, but I get it done.”
"Exactly. So... you should go do that now. Mingle. Circulate. Charm rich people out of their money. That way, we'll still have something to eat until next year."
He leans back on the wall, just looking at her. "And leave you here all alone?"
The look she gave him was far from impressed. "I assure you, I'll find a way to survive in the next hour or so."
"I don't doubt you will."
"So why are you still here?" she asks, straightforward as always.
Bucky doesn't answer right away. Merely glances at the direction of the ballroom before turning his attention back to her.
"Ever considered that maybe I hate this, too?"
She raises a brow at him. "But you're good at it."
"So?"
"So, doesn't that mean at some level, you enjoy it?"
He frowns at her again. In the gentlest way possible, he points out, "I'm good at fighting, too. So are you. Doesn't mean we enjoy it, do we?"
She draws her brows together. "But that's different. That’s… this... the whole people thing, it's--"
"It's an act," he cuts in.
"Well," she says with a shrug, "it's convincing."
"That's the point of an act, Ava."
She rolls her eyes at him. "Fine, whatever. My point still stands, though."
Bucky doesn’t refute her.
But, after a few seconds of silence, he does say, "You don't have to hide out here, you know."
"Me being here means me making fewer mistakes out there," she replies softly.
"It also means you're missing out on interesting things," Bucky says, leaning closer to her like he's telling her a secret. "Like Alexei making an ass of himself."
She laughs. "Please. I'm unfortunate enough to witness that every day."
"There's also champagne," he points out. "And hors d'oeuvres. However you say or spell those."
Ava squints at him. "Are you really trying to get me back in there?"
Bucky shrugs. "I'm just saying, if people asking weird questions is the problem, then it's something you don't have to deal with alone."
She immediately shakes her head, likely sensing where his spiel is going. "Bucky--"
“You stay beside me,” he continues, talking over her just enough to keep her from bolting. “Whole time, if you want. We’ll make the rounds, say the right things, nod at the right moments. Keep ourselves from yawning, which is very important in these events. And, if someone asks you something weird, I’ll step in. Or we both walk away. Your call.”
Ava just looks at him for several seconds - like she’s weighing his offer. "I'm telling you, you won't get any networking done. I'll just... be in the way."
"If I don't, then I don't," he says simply. "There's still Yelena. And John. And Alexei. And Val actually. If this night doesn’t pan out, guess she'll just have to find another malnourished kid in Africa to steal from, to keep our operations afloat."
He says it as a joke.
Mostly.
She sighs. “That’s cold.”
Looks at the direction of the ballroom, and then back at him.
When Ava still doesn’t say anything, he prompts her, "What'd you say?"
She sighs again. Even louder, now.
Finally, Ava uncurls her arms and moves away from the window before saying, “If someone asks me another bloody question about my phasing, I’m warning you: I won't be filtering myself. Or make things digestible, however that works.”
He shrugs. "Might be an interesting scene to see. Hell, it might just become the highlight of the night for me."
Ava gives him another long, unimpressed look. “You’re enjoying this way too much, Barnes.”
“Not yet,” he says, already turning toward the ballroom. “But with you there, I’ve got high hopes.”
She exhales, obviously caught between annoyance and reluctant amusement, before falling into step beside him.
And when they reenter the ballroom, Bucky stays exactly where he said he would.
Right next to her.