Part 15: dresses and dropped jaws

A few weeks passed, and Emery found herself... settling.Which, frankly, was a word she never expected to apply to this life. Not in a tower filled with gods and assassins and one billion-dollar genius who casually left prototype suits in the hallway like they were gym shoes.

But somehow, it all slipped into a rhythm.

Mornings started early — too early — and were usually fueled by coffee and whatever sugar-heavy thing Clint had baked the night before and left on the kitchen counter. Then came lectures, hospital rotations, and quick meals shoved into the cracks between emergencies. She found comfort in the pace, even if exhaustion was practically tattooed under her eyes.

The med bay became her second home.Her powers stayed discreet but were used more often now, just enough to speed up healing, just enough to stop bleeding before stitches were even necessary. Everyone on staff respected her skill. No one asked questions. Not after what she did for Clint and Bucky. Not after word began to spread.

Then came the stolen moments — the parts that left a mark.

Quiet tension with Bucky, always found in the in-between spaces. A shared coffee. A shoulder brush. A long stare across the gym that said more than either of them dared to voice.

Loki's relentless teasing followed her like a shadow, appearing with a smirk in the library or beside the med fridge, always spinning some philosophical nonsense that somehow still made her laugh.

Thor was the opposite — calm and golden, like sunlight after battle. He'd offer her pastries from Asgard, shoulder-squeeze greetings, and the kind of honest joy that made her heart feel lighter just from being around him.

And the girls — Wanda and Natasha — became her tether.Girl nights with facials and vodka tonics, painting nails and dissecting everyone's tragic taste in men. Natasha's humor was dry and razor-sharp; Wanda's warmth was slow and blooming. They made her feel normal. Needed. Known.

And Tony?Tony was... Tony. Loud and inappropriate. Caring and overbearing. He showed up with new furniture for her room just because she mentioned back pain. Checked her school progress and tried to hide how proud he was when she aced her diagnostic exam. Called her "kiddo" like he'd been doing it for years.

He was chaos. He was family.He was the only person who knew everything — and he still never looked at her like she was dangerous.

Today, for the first time in three weeks, she had a full day off.No classes. No shifts. No emergencies. Just a vague promise of brunch and a guiltless nap.

She was still half-asleep when she padded into the kitchen in mismatched socks and a hoodie, only to find the Avengers already half through breakfast like it was a damn reunion special.

Tony, of course, was standing on a chair.

"This is a public service announcement," he declared, pointing a piece of toast at everyone like it was a mic. "The Tower is officially too tense. Ultron's done, the cleanup crew is cranky, and you people are criminally un-fun. So I'm throwing a party."

Emery blinked and looked over at Wanda, who just sipped her tea without flinching. Natasha smirked. Bucky grunted.

Tony turned toward her. "That means you, Golden Girl, are required to attend, drink something sparkly, and possibly wear a dress that makes at least one god speechless."

She raised a brow. "You throwing a party or a fashion campaign?"

"I multitask," Tony said smugly.

"I've never been to an Avengers party," she muttered, pouring herself a mug of coffee.

Natasha leaned back in her chair. "They're... elaborate."

Thor beamed. "There is always dancing!"

Loki rolled his eyes. "And someone always ends up passed out in the koi pond."

"Still not my fault," Bucky said around a mouthful of eggs.

Tony jumped down from the chair. "Anyway — it's happening. Tonight. Rooftop. Invite your hot friends. Dress to stun. Stark out."

"Tonight!"

Tony didn't say anything, only saluted and walked away, already calling for FRIDAY to "order twenty-four cases of champagne, no screw tops, I'm not a peasant."

Emery blinked. "Was that... real?"

"Very," Wanda said.

"We're going shopping," Natasha announced, draining her mug and rising like a queen about to conquer a kingdom. "You need a dress. And something that says I'm hot but could also vaporize you if you annoy me."

"That's a... very specific aesthetic," Emery muttered.

Natasha smirked. "And it's exactly yours."

Three hours later, Emery found herself standing in front of a floor-length mirror in a luxury boutique, draped in silk, heels slipping on the plush carpet.Wanda sat curled on the velvet couch with a bottle of elderflower soda. "That one. That one is the one."

"It's too much."

Natasha arched a brow. "You've got literal golden power running through your veins and you're afraid of a slit?"

Emery snorted. "No, I just... I'm not used to being seen like this."

Natasha stood, crossed the room, and adjusted a strand of Emery's hair behind her ear. Her tone softened.

"Well, get used to it. Because you're a damn storm, and people are finally going to see that."

Emery met her eyes in the mirror, something uncertain flickering in her chest.

"Okay," she said finally. "Let's wreck this party."

The three of them returned to the Tower weighed down with bags and energy crackling like champagne about to pop."You'd think we robbed a boutique," Emery muttered as she kicked off her boots and dropped her haul in the shared lounge outside their rooms. "Why did I let you two convince me to buy three dresses?"

"Options," Wanda said with a shrug, already pulling her hair into a messy bun. "Plus, you looked deadly in all of them. We couldn't just leave one behind. That'd be... a crime."

Emery groaned but didn't fight it. Honestly, it felt good to be surrounded by women like this. Unfiltered, powerful, gorgeous — and unapologetically dangerous.

They camped out in Natasha's suite, the one with floor-to-ceiling windows and a bathroom larger than most apartments. Music thumped low from the speakers while makeup exploded across the marble counters.

Lipsticks were swatched, secrets spilled, and champagne was popped.

"You gonna wear your hair up or down?" Wanda asked, curling a strand of Emery's hair while sipping from a glass.

"Down," she said. "Unless I panic."

"You always panic a little," Natasha said, applying eyeliner with military precision. "It's your charm."

Emery snorted, then paused, lowering her mascara wand. "Can I ask something?"

Both women looked at her.

She hesitated. "Do I... belong here? Like really? You all... fight gods and aliens and throw people through walls and I'm just—"

"—someone who literally rotted a killer robot with a flick of her hand and healed two dying men in seconds," Wanda cut in, voice sharp but kind. "Don't minimize what you are."

"You're one of us," Nat added, looking at her reflection with a tilt of approval. "And honestly? You pull off the glow thing better than Loki."

Wanda grinned. "And he's definitely noticed."

Emery's cheeks flushed, but she rolled her eyes. "Oh god, don't start."

Natasha leaned forward like a cat about to pounce. "Speaking of gods and chaos gremlins... what is happening between you and Bucky?"

"Nothing," Emery said far too quickly.

Wanda's laugh was practically musical. "You do realize we see the way he looks at you, right?"

"Like you're a sunrise and also a security threat," Natasha chimed in.

Emery groaned again, hiding her face in her hands. "We're... something. I don't know. It's complicated."

"Men like him always are," Natasha said, dabbing perfume at her neck. "But they're worth the trouble when they're loyal."

"And he's very loyal," Wanda added with a wink.

Emery threw a hairbrush at her. It missed.

By the time they stepped out into the private hallway, they looked like they belonged on a red carpet.Wanda was all rich burgundy and velvet, hair in soft waves, her magic humming at her pulse points.

Natasha? Classic black. Sleek. Deadly. Red lips like a promise and a warning.

And Emery...Emery was a storm wrapped in gold.

The dress they'd all agreed on shimmered with a subtle metallic sheen, hugging her body like it had been stitched by light. It was high-slit, off-shoulder, and somehow walked the line between goddess and gunpowder. Her hair fell in loose waves, lips painted in a soft amber rose, and her powers — unspoken but always there — pulsed beneath her skin like a second heartbeat.

"I feel like I'm wearing confidence I haven't earned," she whispered as the elevator doors opened.

"You have," Natasha replied. "Now make them regret ever doubting you."

The rooftop had been transformed.String lights floated in the air, not even bothering with wires. Music curled like smoke between glowing tables and mirrored drink bars. The sky stretched above in velvet indigo, stars blinking down in approval.

Avengers mingled. SHIELD agents danced. Someone had already spilled something on the floor.

And then the elevator dinged.

The three women stepped out.

Conversations stopped.

Eyes turned.

And just like that, every room they'd ever saved belonged to them.

Thor was the first to spot them — and by them, Emery — and his jaw literally slackened. The drink in his hand slipped slightly as he stared.

"Lady Emery," he said reverently, crossing the floor like a man meeting a goddess. "You look..."

She smiled. "You clean up well yourself."

And he did — royal blue and silver, hair pulled back, cape dramatic as ever.

Loki appeared behind him, sharp in emerald and black, glass of wine in hand. He stepped closer, gaze dark and utterly amused.

"I must admit," he said, his voice curling around her like silk, "I did not think mortals could wear divinity so convincingly."

"Careful," she murmured. "Flatter me too much and I might turn you into a toad."

He smirked. "Tempting."

Then, just as she turned — Bucky.

Standing a few paces away, clad in all black, hair loose around his face, metal arm glinting beneath the cuff of his tailored jacket. His eyes caught hers and didn't let go.

He crossed the distance slowly, like the rest of the room didn't exist.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied, voice softer now.

"You look..."

She tilted her head. "If you say 'nice,' I swear to god—"

He huffed a quiet laugh. "I was gonna say dangerous."

That made her smile.

"You're not so bad yourself," she whispered.

There was a moment. Just them. Just tension and electricity and something tender curled beneath all of it.

Then someone shouted for shots, and the moment broke.

Emery turned to grab a drink, her smile lingering.

Bucky watched her go.

Loki watched him.

Thor watched them both and took another sip of mead, suddenly very interested in how the night might unfold.