| the celebration |

❝ f r a g i l e ❞

Celeste stands in front of a floor to ceiling mirror in one of the many guest bedrooms in Avengers Tower, adjusting a bobby pin in her tight updo as she glances over her appearance one last time.

She's in a simple, elegantly tight white dress and black heels, with earrings and a necklace supplied by Tony's expensive taste to match. The dress shows off her curves and comes to a stop above the knees, exposing the large scar on the back of her left leg.

Clint appears behind her, dressed in a simple button up shirt and his favorite leather jacket. He grins as she turns to face him, gently wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her closer as he presses a loving kiss to her lips.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks as they pull away, staring into the blue eyes she knows so well.

"How damn lucky I am," he admits with a small chuckle, moving to trail kisses down her jawline. "To have you back in my arms."

"You always get sappy after you've been hurt," she laughs, jokingly pushing him away. "Though I'm not about to complain, we do have a party to get to before Tony sends out a suit to find us."

"But I don't want to go," Clint whines childishly.

"Suit yourself," Celeste replies, stepping into the hallway. "But the bar filled with imported alcohols is calling my name."

Clint gasps and is quick to leave the bedroom, a sarcastic remark on the tip of his tongue. But his girlfriend isn't there to hear it, having already disappeared into the elevator.

A classic Stark Party is in full swing as the elevator doors open, bringing a smile to Celeste's face as she allows the scene to engulf her. At least a hundred people are milling around the spacious room, drinks in hand and raucous laughter leaving their lips. The high-rise windows spanning across the back wall provide a lovely backdrop of the New York night sky, setting the elegant mood.

Squeezing through the crowd, she quickly reaches the bar where Thor and Tony are arguing over which of their girlfriends are better. Natasha, acting as the bartender on the opposite side, looks bored out of her mind.

"Finally!" She shouts excitedly when she catches sight of Celeste. "I've been dying for good company."

"I couldn't leave you to deal with all of this testosterone on your own," Celeste reassures her, ignoring Tony's indignant scoff. "After all, us gorgeous badasses have to stick together."

"Let's go somewhere our presence is welcome," Tony retorts, spinning on his heel dramatically with Thor following close behind. "Since those two don't know how to appreciate it!"

Celeste rolls her eyes, gladly accepting the Avengers Martini - a mixture of drinks she and Natasha created one afternoon when they were bored, by pouring all of the Avengers' favorite drinks together and discovering it doesn't taste bad at all - Natasha slides in her direction. Bruce ambles up to the duo, a confused but humored grin splayed across his lips.

"What did you do to make those two look so upset?"

"Hurt their fragile egos," Natasha answers, a flirtatious smile of her own appearing.

Celeste quietly backs away from them and scans the crowd for anyone familiar as she sips on her drink, not exactly keen to third wheel their awkward blossoming romance. It doesn't take long to spot Steve only a few feet away, quietly conversing with Sam and Brielle.

Before she can overthink it, she finds herself at the blond's side, where the conversation immediately dies down as all eyes fall on her.

"I didn't mean to interrupt anything," Celeste apologizes, watching as the three share a look.

"You didn't," Steve reassures her with a soft smile. "Sam, this is-"

"Celeste," he cuts him off, a smirk forming. "It's been awhile but you can't forget someone who likes to fall out of airplanes."

"And how could I ever forget the man with a bird fetish?"

"That's cold," Sam jokes, placing a hand over his heart.

"So, Brielle," Celeste changes the topic, growing anxious the longer she speaks to Sam. He furrows his eyebrows together at the sudden shift, wondering what he could've said wrong. "What brings you back to the tower? I thought Tony said something about you moving away."

"I have a small house in Bucharest, Romania," Brielle admits, causing Sam to choke on his drink.

"Damn," he mutters. "I really thought Tony was exaggerating when he said you moved far away."

Brielle giggles, nervously tugging at a wrinkle in her dark green dress as she hurries to defend herself. "The serum Bruce and I created was such a success that I was able to accept an excellent job offer."

"So," Celeste presses, finishing her drink. "What brings you back?"

"Tony hates the interior design of my home, so he's insisting on remodeling everything and no wasn't an acceptable answer."

"People can say what they will about him," Celeste admits, her free hand subconsciously flying to her necklace. "But they can't deny his generosity when it comes to his money."

An arm snakes around her waist, thoroughly startling her until she realizes who it is. Relaxing into his hold, she hums quietly in content, her anxiety disappearing as Brielle discusses her new job.

"Would you mind if I steal you from them?" Clint questions, keeping his voice low so only she can hear.

"If you're just trying to get me in our bedroom, then yes," Celeste murmurs, pretending to laugh along with the others at whatever joke Sam just told.

"That can wait," he jokes. "I want you to meet someone."

Celeste sighs in defeat, reluctantly nodding in agreement. Excusing herself from the others, she allows Clint to guide her to the expensive couches, where a dark-haired woman sits by herself on one end, silently nursing her drink. Upon seeing the couple approaching, she immediately stands and offers a smile.

"Helen, this is Celeste," Clint introduces. "Celeste, this is Helen, the doctor that patched me up the other day."

"I've been meaning to find you. I suppose I should thank you for saving my dumbass's life," Celeste admits, shaking her hand. "I leave him alone for one mission, and he gets himself shot!"

"I'm happy to help," Helen chuckles. "Though I'm sorry to say I don't have a cure for dumbass."

"You two are mean."

➵➵➵➵

"It's a trick," Clint declares, casually twirling a drumstick.

The party has long since ended, leaving only the Avengers, Maria, Helen, Rhodey, and Brielle sprawled across the lounge in various positions - and all still in their party attire, much to Celeste's uncomfortable displeasure. Clint and Mariah sit on the floor, the latter with his back pressed against Celeste's legs as she plays with his hair. The rest of the group are spread out on the three couches. Multiple empty Chinese takeout boxes and beer bottles are on the coffee table, leaving a large mess none were quite ready to clean up yet.

"Oh no," Thor argues with a laugh. "It's much more than that."

"Who, shall ever he be worthy, shall haveth the power," Clint mocks the god, dropping his voice to imitate him. "Whatever man, it's a trick!"

"Well, please," Thor offers, gesturing to his hammer that sits in the midst of the mess on the table. "Be my guest."

"Really?"

Thor nods and Clint is on his feet in an instant, a childlike excitement emanating from him.

"Why would you encourage him?" Celeste questions, refraining from rolling her eyes as he moves towards the hammer. "You know he's going to pout the rest of the night when he doesn't lift it."

"I'm loving the support, babe."

"This is gonna be beautiful," Rhodey comments, eliciting a laugh from the others.

"Clint, you've had a tough week," Tony comments. "We won't hold it against you if you can't get it up."

He ignores him, instead focusing on the handle of Mjolnir. With a grunt, Clint attempts to lift it, laughing it off when it doesn't budge.

"I still don't know how you do it," he huffs, stepping back.

"Smell the silent judgement?"

"Please, Stark," Clint concedes, gesturing sarcastically to the hammer as he returns to his spot. "By all means."

"I've never been one to shrink from an honest challenge. It's physics," he says, moving to where Clint stood. "So if I lift it, I then rule Asgard?"

"Yes, of course," Thor agrees.

"I will be reinstituting Prema Nocta," Tony states as he grasps the handle, visibly straining with effort as he attempts to lift. He furrows his eyebrows together, an idea obviously forming as he lets go. "Be right back."

As Tony disappears from the room, Clint drops his head back into Celeste's lap, a pouty expression on his face.

"I told you so," Celeste giggles, leaning down to kiss his forehead as Tony returns, am IronMan glove covering his hand. "That's cheating!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

Tony attempts to lift it again, repulsors charging to increase his chances, but nothing happens. Rhodey walks up to him, having slipped off to get his War Machine glove, and they nod in a silent understanding before pulling together.

"Are you even pulling?" Rhodey grunts, putting one foot on the table to increase his leverage.

"Are you on my team?" Tony retorts.

"Just represent. Pull."

"Alright, let's go."

The duo fails, causing Clint to grin. Tony point to Bruce, gesturing for him to try.

"No, I couldn't-"

"You don't know that," Tony disagrees, a victorious grin appearing when Bruce pushes himself to his feet.

Unlike the others, Bruce chooses to actually stand on the small table as he grabs the handle, his facial features scrunching up as he pulls. His breathing grows heavier as he stumbles off of the table and he roars playfully, only for his joke to be met with silence as the group merely stares.

"Come on, Cap!" Clint breaks the silence, no longer pouting now that he's not the only one who can't lift Mjolnir.

Steve gives in, rolling up his sleeves as he braces himself where the others stood. Celeste doesn't miss how the hammer barely budges when he pulls, and Thor's smile immediately disappears as he notices too.

"Nothing," Steve gives up, returning to his seat.

"Widow?" Bruce asks, gesturing for the woman to try.

"Oh no no no," she denies, taking a sip of her beer. "That's not a question I need answered."

"Celeste?" Clint tries.

"I don't want to damage your fragile egos."

"Brielle?" Tony asks.

"I don't need a hammer to know the answer to my worthiness."

"All difference to the man who wouldn't be king, but it's rigged," Tony decides.

"You bet your ass," Clint agrees, pushing himself back up to head towards the bar for a new drink.

"Steve," Mariah gasps. "He said a bad language word!"

Steve sighs, fixing Tony with a playful glare. "Did you tell everyone about that?"

"The handle is imprinted, right?" Tony rambles on, oblivious to Steve's comment. "Like a security code? Who so ever is carrying Thor's fingerprints is, I think, the literal translation."

"Yes, that's a very very interesting theory. I have a simpler one," Thor argues, grabbing his hammer and twirling it in the air. "You're all not worthy."

"Showoff," Celeste mutters, deciding she needs another drink as well.

A high pitched squeal resonates throughout the room, successfully quieting all conversations. Everyone glances around, attempting to figure out what caused it.

A mechanical whirring comes from the hallway, accompanied by the soft splat of oil hitting the polished floors. The skeletal frame of a robot comes into view, it's wires sparking and mimbs moving slowly and awkwardly.

"No" a guttural voice growls. "How could you be worthy? You're all killers."