Inheritance of ash

hijack

The tower smelled like pancakes. Real ones. Not the vaguely burnt, questionably flavored bricks Thor had conjured during previous attempts. No — these were golden, fluffy, and very much edible.

Bucky stood frozen in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed, expression deeply suspicious.

Sam peered over his shoulder. "No way."

"Did someone else make them?" Bucky asked warily. "Is Thor just... taking credit?"

Thor turned with a flourish, holding a spatula like a weapon of triumph. "I told you I could master Midgardian griddlecraft!"

He flipped a pancake perfectly onto the plate, grinning like he'd just forged a new realm.

Bucky looked to Sam. Sam looked to Bucky. They both turned back to Thor.

"I don't trust it," Sam muttered.

"I'm not eating it first," Bucky added.

Across the kitchen, Steve and Natasha were already sitting at the counter, eating calmly like nothing was unusual. Natasha sipped her coffee, glancing up with a smirk.

"Should've seen last night coming," she said, nudging Steve with her elbow.

Steve just shook his head and took another bite. If he was still flustered from the kiss, it didn't show anymore. If anything, he looked... peaceful. Settled. Even a little smug.

"You two are unnervingly calm," Bucky muttered as he finally took a seat, poking the pancake like it might explode.

Kate sat at the end of the counter, her tea cradled in both hands. Her usual snark had been replaced by something quieter — something very unlike her. She stared at nothing, expression dazed.

Wanda stood beside her, leaning on the counter with one eyebrow raised.

"You're not talking," she said gently.

Kate blinked. "Yeah."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

Wanda smiled knowingly and sipped her coffee.

Pietro slid into a chair next to Clint, scrolling through his phone. "So, get this. I now have two phone numbers. Jewelry store girl from yesterday — and last night's mystery SHIELD agent's daughter. I don't even remember her name."

Clint didn't even look up from his cereal. "And that's why you'll die alone."

Pietro blinked. "Harsh."

"Accurate," Clint replied.

The kitchen filled with murmuring and plate-clattering. Tony was by the window, holding a mug and looking unusually... content. Not even smug — just quietly smiling to himself, like some part of him had been plugged back into place during the night and was now humming gently under the surface.

The elevator chimed.

Yelena stepped out.

Kate froze. Like completely froze. Her mug hovered halfway to her lips. Her breath caught somewhere in her throat.

Yelena didn't say anything at first. She just walked over to Kate, pulled a crumpled twenty from her coat pocket, and set it down on the counter in front of her. No eye contact. No smirk.

"From the bet," she said simply, then moved past her toward the coffee machine.

Kate blinked at the twenty like it might spontaneously combust.

Steve nearly choked on his coffee trying not to laugh.

"I need to lie down," Kate whispered to her tea.