The Night Skies ~ Avengers

CHAPTER 9

I woke up to light beaming on my face. Slowly, I opened my eyes, trying to recognize my surroundings as soft cushions cradled me. Once my pupils adjusted to the brightness, I remembered: I was in the living room.

"Morning." A voice broke through my thoughts. I shot my head to the side and saw Bucky sitting at the dinner table, a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Relief washed over me as the memories of the previous night returned.

"Morning," I murmured quietly, still partly in a haze of sleep. After a moment, I added, "Thank you for last night." A small smile tugged at my lips, revealing how thankful I was. I had finally gotten some much-needed rest and comfort.

Bucky waved a hand dismissively, a grin breaking across his stoic features. "You don't ever need to thank me for that." He set his book down and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "How do you feel? Get some good sleep?"

I stretched my arms over my head, feeling the residual drowsiness seep from my bones. "I did, actually. Better than I have in weeks," I told him.

Bucky's smile widened, clearly pleased with my answer. "No one else is up yet, so if you leave now and come back later, no one will know," he suggested. I appreciated his consideration—no one needed to know about my nightmares.

I nodded, standing up. "Good idea." He returned to his book as I wasted no time heading to my room.

~~~~~~~

After getting ready, I could hear voices in the kitchen. Taking it as a sign to "wake up," I left my room.

Almost everyone was gathered in the kitchen. Peter was fussing with the coffee machine while the others chatted. "Morning, Daphne! Want some coffee?" he asked, glancing up from his task.

I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You drink coffee now?"

Peter sighed dramatically. "I lost a dare against Clint. I have to make everyone coffee. So I'm asking again—do you want coffee?" He looked at me hopefully, shaking his head in exasperation.

I laughed. "Well, in that case, I'll take a cup." His eyes lit up as he returned to the machine, mumbling under his breath.

I approached Clint at the table and gave him a high-five as I walked past. He had been watching Peter with a smirk. "So, what was the dare?" I asked, curious.

"That he could beat me and Natasha in a fight, without weapons," Clint replied, eyes still trained on Peter, chuckling occasionally.

We both turned our gaze back to Peter, who was stumbling around the kitchen, searching for sugar and milk, clearly struggling to figure out the coffee machine.

Poor Peter, I thought, well, not really. Did he really think he could pull off that fight? I remembered him bragging about winning a fight against Clint; maybe he was a bit too full of himself.

Ten minutes later, Peter approached the table, his eyes firmly on the two cups he held, both filled to the brim. He took careful steps until he proudly set the cups down in front of us. "There you go," he said cheerily, smiling at me and shooting a glare at Clint before hurrying back to the kitchen.

I examined my coffee carefully before taking a sip. My nose scrunched in disgust as I quickly put the cup back down. "How much sugar did he put in this? Is it even sugar?" I asked, mostly to myself.

"Worth it," Clint said, also leaving his coffee untouched.

"Want another cup?" he asked as he stood.

I chuckled. "No thanks, I didn't really want coffee anyway. Just wanted to bug Peter." I declined, and he smiled at me with a hint of pride in his eyes.