Saving Grace

Chapter LVII

After two days, Grace's stomach finally settled, and her fever left... just in time for the Avengers out on the mission to return.

When Steve and Bucky returned to find Grace in pajamas and robe still at 10:00 a.m. they knew something was wrong. Grace and Bruce explained that it was just a little stomach bug; her temperature was down and she was able to keep full meals down at that point.

"JARVIS, why did you not notify us?" Bucky asked. "You're supposed to tell us if something is wrong here at the Tower."

"Dr. Banner did not deem it an 'emergency' as my protocols dictate," JARVIS replied. "Also, Miss Grace requested that I not inform you of her illness; she did not wish to pose as a distraction to you and the others."

Steve pinned his sister with a light glare. "Grace?"

"I didn't want to distract you," she reiterated. "It's not as if you could come home early or something."

Bucky shook his head at her stubbornness. "Grace-"

"-Bucky. You know there was nothing you could do that Dr. Banner could do just as well, if not better, as you could. Besides, I'm fine now. You don't need to worry; I'll be cooking you dinner tonight just like always."

"Fine," Bucky sighed. "You are stubborn just like your brother, you know that, Babydoll?"

"Says the guy that wouldn't take no for answer when it came to walking me home in the winter, even when you were sick with a cold," Gracefired back with a giggle.

"Must be a family trait," Steve shrugged.

"One that Bucky has just as much as any of us."

"Okay, so we're all three stubborn," Bucky admitted with a grin. "And I don't think any one of us would be here right now if we weren't."

That night Grace cooked a big spaghetti dinner, using Mrs. Mancini's recipe Steve had gotten during the war. Come to find out, Peter Parker had been there a better part of the afternoon, doing his "internship" with Tony down in the labs, so he joined the rest of the Avengers for dinner that night on the common floor.

After dinner, the Avengers all headed into the living room for a movie, still talking about the mission they just returned from. Peter grabbed his empty plate, and followed Grace into the kitchen, intending to put his dirty dishes away for her. He passed into the kitchen...and nearly plowed right into her back. He peeked around her to see what had stopped her in her tracks.

A Mount Everest of dishes, pots, pans, and coffee mugs towered from the sink.

"What happened here?" Peter asked, eyes wide.

"I took a few sick days. That's what," Grace dead-panned. "Looks like I'm on KP tonight." she huffed a stray curl out of her face, squared her shoulders, and marched right up to the sink. "My playlist, please, Mr. JARVIS."

"With pleasure, Miss Grace," the AI answered, sounding like a head butler responding to the lady of the house. Thirties and Fourties swing music came over the kitchen speakers. Peter just stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. "Shall I call Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes to assist you, Miss Grace?" JARVIS asked.

"No," she shook her head as she pushed up her sleeves. "They're catching up with their pals; I can take care of this."

There was a beat of silence.

".......It will take you some time to complete this task on your own."

Peter half-expected to hear the AI add a "my lady" at the end.

"I'll be fine; I'll have you for company," she sent a grin up toward the ceiling for JARVIS's benefit.

"And me," Peter piped up, making a split-second decision.

Grace turned to him. "If you stay, you help," she stated. "You sure you don't want to go talk shop with the fellas?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay." She tossed him a dishtowel. "Then get your spider-tail over her and dry."

The towel hit him in the chest, and a grin spread across his lips as he caught it. "Yes, ma'am."

Thirty minutes later, Clint passed the kitchen looking for any leftover garlic knots to munch on and heard the Andrews Sisters crooning "Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy", overlayed by giggles, laughter, and singing. He peeked through the door.

The mountain of dishes was about half done, but that was not what put a smile on the archer's face. Peter and Grace were facing each other, dishes momentarily forgotten. Grace was singing into a wooden spoon and Peter was "playing" a trumpet/bugle on a soup ladle. Both were grinning from ear to ear as they jammed to the wartime music.

"Can you save a picture of this, JARVIS?" Clint whispered.

"Already done, sir," JARVIS softly replied.