Mind Games (Avengers Wrong Number Fugitive [Natasha Romanoff x teen])

25. Two Weeks and Four Days

Reminder, this is my group of Young Avengers in this book (plus Auggie, Abby, Ned, MJ):

Tommy Shepherd - 15
Billy Kaplan - 16
America Chavez - 16
Kamala Khan - 16
Riri Williams - 16
Peter Parker - 17
Cassie Lang - 17
Kate Bishop - 19
Shuri - 22

August - 15
Abigail - 16
MJ - 16
Ned - 17

Yelena isn't Young Avenger-ing for this chapter sorry!

TW: alcohol and common drugs (not hardcore <3)

Natasha's POV

It's been a few weeks since the incident. Exactly two weeks and four days. August Miller has decided to ignore everything that happened and just enjoy the new freedom of safety. No running from SHIELD and being wary of Hydra. The former is gone and is now trying to help with the manipulative Neo-Nazi organization. She's still so cautious though, trying not to get too attached to a possible figment of reality. In her brain it means live without a care.

I'll catch her smoking weed out her bedroom window or drunk by the edge of the woods. She's gone most of the day, hiking apparently. God knows what else she's doing. And if she actually is inside she's in her room. She's never around. 

I've tried talking to her but she's shut me out. And if she isn't busy shutting me out she's crying on my lap. Then she puts her walls back up, like they're in some vicious, untimely cycle. This isn't my ego talking but my worry believing she let me in when they used that fucked up machine on her. And now she's too afraid to.

But maybe today will be different. There's a Stark party as per usual. That in itself isn't the cure but the fact the Young Avengers will be there. Tony's set up a room for them to be teenagers. His mistake is purposefully leaving alcohol in the cupboards. This is his idea of a post-Thanksgiving holiday Avengers and SHIELD agents round up, of course. It's amazing how bad of an influence he really is on these kids.

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August's POV

We're in a pretty decent sized room. Bigger than my Avengers Compound bedroom to say the least. It's a private party size so I'm wondering when Stark actually uses this place. 

The time passes fast and slow. We're a group of twelve sticking to the ones we're closest to. The only bad boy is Tommy, but luckily the rest of the boys are keeping him in check. I mainly keep to myself, not talking, just sipping on my beer while being surrounded by Abby, Kate and America. 

Not all of the Young Avengers actually have trauma and are willing to do the things some of us more cultured children of this generation use as coping mechanisms. Such as light drugs and alcohol. But they don't try and stop the ones who do.

Abby's mom died when she was twelve. She was affected by it of course but is better now. She drinks a bit, but after numerous occasions of coming home late and being intoxicated with a burning headache in the morning and no recollection of the previous days outings, she's kept her alcohol intake to a minimum. She hates throwing up.

Kate's dad passed away when she was ten years young. She had her mother to help her through all of that until, well, she learned her mom was caught up in gang shit and killed people. She didn't turn to harmful coping skills because she had Clint Barton on her side. She does drink occasionally as well as smoke pot when she's up for it, just to turn things off. It's not that big of a deal to her because she knows what she needs to do if so be it she was overwhelmed with her past.

Me and America are closer to the same page than anyone else. We lost our family young and haven't had a normal life since then. She got lost throughout the multiverse and I was mind controlled and tricked into killing for Hydra. If we need help with forgetting we've recently been coming to each other. Maybe it's not healthy but neither of us care.

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"Alright everyone!" Tommy yells, clapping his hands. "'Round the circle! Yep, circle people. Someone grab an empty beer bottle!" 

"For fucks sake," America groaned as she swings her empty bottle in the air, coming towards the growing circle.

Tommy looks around the circle and smirks. "Spin the Bottle or Truth or Dare?"

It came to a unanimous vote that we'd start with Truth or Dare and then play the other game. That's because after people start kissing one another it's gonna end in drama. Though they want to play the game... they knowing something's gonna go a bit south by the end. Maybe even in Truth or Dare. Who fucking knows.

Tommy started off the spinning and luckily for him it landed on Peter. He smiled... maliciously. "Truth or dare Peter boy?"

"Uhh... truth."

"Have you ever done the deed?" It was clear in his eyes he was expecting a no.

"Uhm, yeah." Pete gave a light smile and leaned in to grab the bottle. Tommy's eyes went wide before rolling them, groaning.

The bottle landed on America.

"Truth or dare."

"Dare."

"Ugh, I don't know what to do. Oh... wait. I dare you to um, I dare you steal Morgan from her babysitter for two hours."

Everyone gasps, looking around the room. Since uh, when did Peter get so... violent? Devilish? Evil?

"Peter, give me a fucking truth. No way in hell am I doing that. What is wrong with you?"

Peter blushes mad, looking away from everyone. "Fine. Uhm, uh, what's the scariest dimension you've been to?"

"This one 'cause you're here!"

Well damn-

This goes on for a bit longer, truths, dares, so on and so forth. I haven't been picked yet which I'm thankful for, but I know sooner or later if the bottle doesn't land on me someone's going to speak up and someone random, most likely Tommy, will give me a truth, dare or both.

But then the bottle does choose me as the next victim. Riri looks me up and down, face unreadable. "Truth or dare, Auggie Miller."

"Truth," I answer fast, knowing I'm not eating salt plain or doing some shit like that. Going with the safest option.

"Where'd you get that scar on your neck from. The hashtag thing."

My hand shoots up to my right side of my neck, covering the scar. It's a bit of a complex story. Sort of personal, honestly. 

"Hydra," I mumble. But there's so much more to that story. I have scars, of course I do. Literal and figurative scars, everyone can see them. But I guess this one just means more to me because of who gave it to me. 

People give me looks when they notice I'm lost in thought. They're kind of ugly stares, untrusting. I'm new here, please just give me a break. You guys have been healing if you needed to. I don't even know if I want to.

"Oh come on, Auggie! You can give us more than that!" Tommy looks around, looking for encouraging smiles. 

I finally just snap. "WILL YOU SHUT UP, THOMAS SHEPHERD! NOT EVERYONE GETS TO RANDOMLY LEARN THEY'RE THE REINCARNATED SOULS OF WANDA MAXIMOFF AFTER ALREADY LIVING THEIR BEST LIVES WITH SUPER SPEED? SOME OF US HAD TO EARN OUR RIGHT TO BE ALIVE!"

I hurriedly stand up and storm out of the room, only hearing a, "I've gotta go or my parents will notice I'm not home," coming from Kamala. 

Nobody fucking gets it. I'm not just going to be all sunshine and rainbows because I'm "safe" now. I still don't even know if this is real. I spent months in Hydra but I didn't. It was actually less than a week. I've only actually fucking been here two weeks and four days. 

<3

Can someone please tell gayfortasha I'm really really sorry...