Though her headache was still an issue, it wouldn’t be fair to leave Steve alone with the cleanup. Him being the only one to handle alcohol without its harsh side effects meant he had to be the most responsible one out of the team.
“I can clean up the floor.” She saw him smile just for that.
“And I’ll try to help out too.” Wanda spoke though was trying to fight the hangover with little success. The drink was partially helping and it was enough to make her stand for a second. “Someone’s gotta move the bodies off the floor.”
Steve looked at the few dishes still uncleaned. “Then I’ll wrap this up and help you out after.”
With an agreement made the three awakened Avengers set out to their self-assigned tasks. Janet’s was sort of the easiest, just pick up the leftover trash from the group and toss them in a bag. Wanda didn’t use too much magic to help move the others but it became easier to do when Steve was down with cleaning the dishes. Now they won’t have to hear too much snoring in the living room.
Admittedly Jarvis would’ve been invaluable at helping out the group but he wasn’t around since last night. Janet thought it might’ve been for the best since this place still looked trashed from their wild night even if they had the occasional destroyed windows or walls, sometimes both.
Meanwhile inside the Wasp’ suit, Peter didn’t have much luck from his imprisonment. Janet’s movements were pressing him hard against her chest every so often with little room to wiggle around or launch webs towards any visible gap. At times he gasped for breath when the two round mountains were pressed at random intervals, always impeding his attempts to escape.
“This is so humiliating.” If he ever gets out, he’ll never mention this to any loving soul on Earth. This kind of stuff was only for Ant-Man, not Spider-Man. Why did he have to get shrunk…oh right, alcohol.
Hopefully the next generation of heroes would remember to steer clear of such ideas like this.
And if he were to make it to that point in history, he knew he couldn’t just let this massive chest beat him down. Why did he have to think of it like that? He hadn’t even thought about how to escape Janet’s suit yet, but that’d come later. Hopefully.
Janet crouched down to toss away the few remaining plastic cups in her bag when she looked back at the couch. Hank was still resting there, unbothered by the noise going on during cleanup. But the space not taken up by him was occupied by a single pillow.
Last she checked she wasn’t resting on that side too much, but why was that there? The important bits of last night were incredibly fuzzy, static. Maybe something happened there and they thought it was an inconsequential thing.
Maybe that was the case. It was an ordinary pillow, she even removed it just in case its position felt out of place. But that didn’t stop nagging at her. Can she even remember it or was that not yet important?
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