Assembling

The reception

"Arrival at base in ten," Hawkeye's voice came over coms.

Thor grunted. Nobody was enthusiastic, which was unusual. Nobody had been seriously hurt on the mission, there had been no disasters natural or Avengers-generated, they got the bad guy, they weren't even particularly tired.

"I don't suppose we could just sneak out of the hanger," War Machine said, sighing.

"Worth a try," Falcon said hopefully.

Alas, it was not to be. Nick Fury was waiting in the hangar for the quinjet, neatly cutting off their escape route.

"Five minutes, people," he instructed as the ramp came down and reluctant Avengers descended. "I realize that you've just returned from an op--good job--but this won't take long."

"Come on, Nick," Tony said, feeling harassed, rumpled and sweaty from his time inside his Iron Man suit. Bucky squinted judgmentally.

"No buts," Fury said, laying down the law. "We only have six of these receptions a year, which are, at most, six hours out of your 8736. These are the  new hires who make it possible for you to go out and do your jobs. Housekeeping, the people who make and clean and maintain and stock the quinjets, the folks who make your gear, accountants who process the payroll and benefits and your expense accounts--" Barton reached up and fiddled with his ear-- "And Barton,  you need to answer some questions about an expense from that Brazilian mission, something about the purchase of a coffee plantation."

"Sorry, Director," Clint said loudly, smiling angelically. "Hearing aid's on the fritz. Can't hear you." Fury sighed.

"They're ruthless, they will track you down and extract answers," he warned. "And some of these people are also collecting the intelligence that make missions like this possible. They run the missions that Romanov and Barton used to do before joining the Avengers, still do when we need the best of the best." He surveyed the rebellious little group. "You are SHIELD's marquee group, the face of the agency. Everybody knows that they are busting their butts and doing some unpleasant tasks to support the success of your work for the greater good. You can come to the reception and shake their damn hands. The Avengers who didn't go on this mission have already done their duty."

"Right," Cap said, sighing. "All right, everybody. Move out. Shake hands, say welcome, then you can go and hit the showers. There's food, right, Director?"

"Appetizers, beer, wine, soft drinks," Fury confirmed.

"Snacks," Bucky said, brightening slightly. The Avengers pack shuffled toward the hanger door, exiting into a carpeted corridor. Steve led the way to the atrium where most of SHIELD's employees seemed to be mingling. There was a line of about twenty individuals in front of the big planter with the trees and the mossy rocks. He summoned up a Cap smile, grabbed Bucky's hand, and started forward, leading his team once more into the breech.

The new hires all had adhesive name tags on: Hi! My name is ________. I work in _________.

"Hi, Mike," Steve said, smiling easily and extending his hand to the awed young man who worked the coffee stand, according to his tag. He worked down the line, welcoming a chemist, three security officers, an aesthetician, two medical doctors, six R & D PhDs, a chef, and four maintenance, spying the tables with the food toward the end which added some urgency to his handshakes although he didn't let the smile slip. The last person, mercifully, finally. "Hi, Anne," he said. "Ops. Great. Nice to hear that we'll be working together." He raised his eyes from the nametag and blinked, the smile fading. Anne had the straightest posture he'd ever seen. Ever, including in his mirror. Did her spine even have an S curve? Her dark shiny hair was drawn back smoothly into a knot at the nape of her neck, her skin was a smooth warm tan, and her ethnicity was unclear. She wore no makeup and was dressed in the loose black pants and t shirt that personnel wore to work out in. She stood with her feet shoulder width apart, jaw up, shoulders square, and her face was completely blank, including her big brown eyes. It was kind of eerie. His smile faltered and his grip loosened.

"Thank you, Captain," she said in a neutral low alto. "I appreciate your attendance here, especially since the Avengers are just coming in from a mission."

Unnerved, Steve mumbled something and retreated to the snack table, abandoning his teammates to their fates, where he hastily loaded up a plate with nibbles and a big bottle of house-prepped blend of juices. He was starving.  He was joined in short order by the others, various expressions on their faces, all snagging bottled beverages and choosing from appetizers that included cheese straws, bacon-wrapped water chestnuts, skewers of mozzarella balls, cherry tomatoes, and basil leaves, cocktail pasties, empanadas, and samosas.

"That last one's a weirdo," Tony muttered, stuffing a mini-quiche into his mouth. "She looks like a wanted poster. Even the Manchurian Candidate there has more expression. Are we sure she's even human? She's like an android. Mandroid. She isn't very feminine."

"Stop it, she might be able to hear you," Scott hissed, as Bucky used his metal middle finger to flip off Stark. Steve smiled. Antman's heart was open and generous, which is why he valued him.

"Ex-military for sure," Sam agreed as the group shuffled to the side, easy to lunge back for seconds but not too far from an exit. "What branch, though? I'm betting Marines. They're all gung ho like that."

"There's more to it than that," Bucky said absently, popping a chunk of chicken drizzled with a coconut lime peanut sauce into his mouth. "Yum. She's focused on observation. Evaluating, not judging. Tasha? You know anything?"

"I heard something about a hotshot who is supposed to be second to none in retrieval," she said thoughtfully. She nudged her partner. Clint nodded.

"I thought it was a guy, though," he said, his hearing aid 'miraculously' working again. "From some foreign outfit."

"Sounded American," Sam said thoughtfully. He looked around guiltily. "I keep expecting the Commander in Chief to show up. That is some extreme parade rest."

"I felt like my scoliosis came back in comparison," Steve muttered, and the group laughed as Nick finished up a little welcoming speech and the receiving line broke up.

The laughter broke off abruptly as the woman in question silently appeared at the snack table, taking a bottle of water (a new compostable type of plastic) and a whole-wheat veggie slider. She looked over briefly at the cessation of noise, and Steve thought that Bucky was right. She was evaluating everything. She moved away from the group discreetly, still with that daunting posture, but he suddenly wanted to finish up. The same mood infected the others; they ate quickly and dispersed. Steve and Bucky went to the locker room to leave their suits for attention, preferring to shower together in their quarters. Clint and Natasha would go straight to their apartment and deal with their suits later. Tony had left his suit in the jet; it would be retrieved, cleaned, and returned to his workshop for his later attention and he would go to the penthouse suite he occupied with Pepper. That took care of the soulmates who lived here full-time. Scott came out for special missions, with or without Hope, and didn't have permanent quarters. The Avengers without soulmates tended to mix things up more in their routines, and Thor, Rhodes and Sam made themselves scarce too.