This is not the Endgame

You might have a good time but we party harder

Steve was happy these days. Bucky was doing really well with his work and his therapy, which was backed off to once a month--the one-on-one with his therapist--and supplemented with new weekly sessions with a group. Everybody in the group had different problems, but they had all experienced deeply traumatic events, and Bucky said that listening to different approaches to these issues gave him good ideas as well as reminding him how far he'd come. Sam was working hard, being a Captain America everyone should be proud of, and he was happy. Wanda's control over her power was strong and she was also happy and busy. Steve was pleased with the progress that was being made on his apartment building, that he'd lured some key tenants back--including Matt the stylist and his girlfriend Gina, and Mrs Aguilar--and his biggest coup was when Ava said that she would move back when her lease was up. He reserved the studio on the fifth floor with the bay window for her. He was learning a lot in class, his art was improving, and all in all, life was good.

Bucky was the happiest he'd been since before he'd been drafted, overall. Work was interesting and stimulating, he'd been added to two more projects--low-level work, but he was making contacts and learning a lot--and he really enjoyed his co-workers. Steve had given him two really nice canvases to hang in his apartment; their brightness helped make the monochrome color scheme actually look planned rather than depression-inflected purchases, and he began to see why Ava might have thought that it was elegant. The insulation was in and the walls closed up again, painting done, and Steve had allowed him to choose the colors--a warm white for the walls and ceilings and a crisp white for the trim. The floors hadn't been done yet, but the new kitchen was in, and it included a microwave. He'd gotten some cookbooks and an Instant Pot; his mother would have loved it. But it was getting cold, and he was looking forward to an autumn of soups and stews. He was enjoying having a separate bedroom, and Sam had gone with him to choose some curtains for the window. The windows all had blinds, but there was the option to have curtain rods put up. He liked the feeling of shutting the world out in that room, and while the draperies were still gray, Sam had talked him into getting a luxury fabric for them so they'd be less depressing. He'd chosen a soft velvet, and enjoyed his ritual of opening the curtains each day, feeling the plush fabric under his fingers, pulling up the blind. There was a cat bed, a rich red fleece, carefully placed in the area which got the most sun, and this was where Natasha, now cured from ear mites, the eye infection, an abscess, a hurt paw, and parasites, curled up the most. Another saving grace of the gray furnishings was that the cat fur was almost unnoticeable.

And best of all, one evening there was a knock on Steve's door. He opened it to see Thor, still rather grave, but healthier and happier looking. There was manly hugging and smiles, and Steve put together an impromptu gathering in his apartment. There was a sizeable order of pizza that was delivered, and quite a lot of beer purchased and cooled in the refrigerator by the time everybody showed up. Sam and Steve caught Thor up on what they'd been doing, and Bucky explained his progress. He didn't know Thor much at all, but each of them could use another friend. And Thor explained that he'd had some adventures with Peter Quill and the Guardians but had come to realize that running away wasn't the solution to any problems or responsibility. So he'd returned to New Asgard and spoken to Valkyrie. She'd been glad to see him and they'd come up with a division of responsibility that suited them both. The remaining Asgardians had been delighted to see their king returned, in full strength and clear mind. It wasn't that they thought Valkyrie had done a bad job, it was simply that Thor was their king, they'd been patient, and now it was time for him to quit screwing around and do his job. And so he and Valkyrie had divided up responsibilities. It suited her well; she was finally getting some time to develop hobbies and friendships too, not working sixteen or eighteen hours a day. New Asgard was still growing and establishing its roots, and so Thor also got some physical work to do to make the new settlement a real home. He was in New York to consult with bankers to help with infrastructure and delighted to find his comrades. It was a merry night.