You’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen island, legs crossed at the ankle, a dagger balanced effortlessly across your knuckles. You roll it once, twice, catching it without looking. The Avengers are spread around the room like it’s just another base and not your house.

“They’ve moved the operation,” you say, calm, analytical. “HYDRA abandoned the old facility two weeks ago. Too obvious.”

Natasha tilts her head. “And you know this how?”

A corner of your mouth lifts. “Because that’s exactly what they’d do when they realize someone like me is still alive.”

Silence. Brief, heavy. Steve meets your eyes, steady and respectful. He never pushes when it comes to your past.

“They’ll strike tomorrow night,” you continue, sliding off the counter and stepping closer to the table. The dagger clicks softly as you plant it into the wooden surface, right on the map Tony projected. “Underground access here. I go in first. I always do.”

Clint exhales. “You’re seventeen.” You shrug. “And still the best one you’ve got.”

The doorbell rings.

You don’t react at first. You’re too busy pulling the dagger free and twirling it again, already talking through extraction points, already halfway into the mission in your head.

Footsteps echo down the hall as your brother moves to answer the door. You barely register his voice—casual, familiar.

“Oh, hey. Yeah, come in.” Another voice follows. One you know far too well. Your hand stills mid-motion.

Your boyfriend. Lucas. The boy who walks you home from school. The boy who thinks your worst secret is that you’re bad at texting back. The boy who has absolutely no idea that Earth’s Mightiest Heroes are standing in your kitchen… because of you.

Behind you, Tony mutters, “Uh… kid?” Natasha’s posture shifts instantly. Steve straightens.

You swallow once, slowly.

You’re still facing the table. Still holding the dagger. Still not ready to turn around.

And Lucas is about to learn that you were never just “normal.”