Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was happening again. The one thing he wished would never happen again. Flashes of ice and snow try to overwhelm him. His hands grip the controls hard enough that he can feel the material crack under his strength. Sound seems to filter out, leaving him in thick silence that clogs his ears and vision. Ice comes up to surround-

“Steve!”

It’s like waking from a dream. He see’s only the alien planet below, coming up at a frightening speed now that they’ve made it through the outer layer of the atmosphere. “Tony.” That choked voice couldn’t possibly be his own.

Clint comes back from checking the damage, leaning over to yell into the comm. “Stark! We don’t have control! It’s too damaged! What do we do?” One of his strong hands comes to grip Steve’s shoulder hard enough to send another stab of clarity through his brain. Keeps him in the moment.

Tony can be heard stringing obscenities together, reminiscent of a tongue twister, but it’s Coulson that eventually answers. “We’ve lost visual. How bad is the damage, Clint?”

“I don’t… I can’t tell.” His own voice bleeds into despair. “I only fly this thing on occasion, I didn’t build it!”

“No, I did!” Tony can be heard yelling in the background.

“Dad!” Peter leans over Steve’s shoulders, arms wrapping tightly around them. Tries to keep the flashbacks he’s been told about at bay.

“Oh God I forgot you were in there too.” Tony’s voice is suddenly loud again. Having shoved Coulson out of the way most likely. “Peter, buddy what do you see?”

Peter’s eyes water at the sheer terror he heard in his Dad’s voice when he realized the second person he loved most in the world was on the crashing ship. “The only reason we haven’t nosedived is because Dad has a hold on the controls,” he chokes out. “We’re hit pretty bad. Bucky tried to fix some of the damage but got hurt. We had to release the pressure lock and shut the doors to the back of the ship when something blew.”

There’s silence on the other end. Then, “Steve.”

Steve takes a shuddering breath. “I won’t let them die.” Through his terror and determination, it comes out as a hiss. He looks over at Clint. Gives him a nod.

Clint takes the hint. Takes a shuddering breath of his own. “Phil. I’ll see you soon.” Then he grabs Peter.

“What? No! Dad! Let go, Clint! I’m not leaving him alo- Bucky no! Let me go! Dad!”

Steve grits his teeth through the yelling. Every fatherly instinct he has is screaming for him to comfort his son. But he can’t. Bucky will keep everyone safe. He doesn’t even turn around. “Tony.” The first tear escapes.

“Land that ship.” Tony’s voice is haggard. “You hear me? Don’t crash it. Land it. We’ll see you soon. Okay? In a few days. We’re landing our own suffering ship before it fails us and we’ll stay where we are and make repairs, okay? Find us there and we’ll go home. Promise me, Steve.”

Steve’s breath catches as they barely skim over the first mountain of this foreign land. He vows to not make another promise he won’t be able to keep. So he makes the most of the last precious seconds he’s been given. His eyes lock onto the positioning system, noting the direction and distance the other ship is from theirs. Memorizes the numbers. Knows that a few days already was an impossible promise with the size of the planet he was crashing on the total opposite end of. Even if he does somehow make it. “Love you, Tony.”

“Steven Grant Stark!”

He revels in the sound of Tony’s last name attached to his own for the last time.

The ground rushes up to meet him.

Bucky wakes up first, hearing groaning both to his left and right as he tries to push himself up. He lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing enough to let himself fall back down until he has a hold on the situation. “You guys okay?”

“Peachy.” Clint manages to sit up. “How ‘bout you, Barnes?”

“Peter?” Bucky sits up to look through the dim light at the figure who hasn’t spoken yet. “You okay?”

“I’ll live.” He’s sitting up, leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees. He looks only half aware.

Clint looks to him worriedly at the empty sound of his voice. “Don’t do that yet, kid. We don’t know what happened. He could need our help. Let’s get out of here, okay?”

Bucky nods, groaning as he stands. He seems to have gotten away with minor bruising besides the injuries from earlier. “C’mon, Peter.” He holds out his hand as the teenager looks up, trying to smile reassuringly. “If there’s anything I know about both of your dads, it’s that they’re too stubborn to die.”

Peter takes his hand, wincing as he stands. He looks to the small hole in the top of their sanctuary. At the light that makes it’s way through. “This place is metal and bent to hell. How are we going to get out?”

Bucky puts a hand to his shoulder. “Can I check you out first? It’d put my mind at ease. I don’t want Steve yelling at us for not keeping you safe.”

Clint moves forward. “I’ll check the kid over. You use that arm of yours to get out of here.”

Barns nods. “Report as you look.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “I’m not a kid anymore.” He watches in amusement as Bucky stands on rubble to reach the hole and starts punching it open tiny bits at a time with his metal arm.

“No, but you’re still our nephew,” Clint grumbles, lifting one arm at a time and rotating them. “So shut up and hold still. Arms are in good shape.” He moves down to lift Peter’s shirt to check his ribs, letting out a hiss at the bruising that runs across the bottom of his chest.

Peter huffs. “That was Bucky. No real damage.”

“Shit, Barnes! Steve is going to kill you when he sees this!”

“If the kid didn’t struggle so much I wouldn’t have had to hold on so tight!”

“I didn’t wan to leave him alone,” Peter breathes, eyes suddenly far away.

Clint takes his face in his hands. “Peter. Steve is okay. You hear me? Remember Tony telling you about the cat?”

Peter smiles a little. Remembers how crazy that theory made Clint. “It can be both alive and dead until you open the box.”

Clint nods. “So no giving up until we see him. Okay?”

Peter nods. Takes a few centering breaths. “I’m okay. You can stop examining me.” He rolls his shoulders and looks up to Bucky. “I think it’s wide enough I could get through now.”

Bucky drops down. “Don’t go far. You hear me? We’re coming up as soon as it's big enough for us to get through, but stay out of trouble until we get out there.”

Peter hugs him.

Bucky winces at a spark of pain but hugs him tightly back. “We’ll find him. And then we’ll both beat him up.”

Peter laughs, letting go to nod to Clint. Then he climbs up the wall and out, smiling at Clint’s usual grumble about how cool it would be to be able to climb walls that easily. The smile falls from his face when he stands on the top of the ruined ship, eyes taking in the destruction of the front end. “Dad!”

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Tony said you had a nightmare last night. Like I do.”

Steve looks up from his drawing, eyebrow raised. “When did you start using our first names?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “I asked a question first.”

Steve grins. “That wasn’t a question.”

Peter sighs, crossing his arms. At thirteen, Steve has noticed most of his and Tony’s jokes aren’t funny anymore. It’s weird to think that they’re raising a teenager.

Steve chuckles. “Alright. Come here.” He sets his sketchpad down and pulls Peter to sit next to him. He marvels again at how much Peter has grown when he just barely fits under his arm. “You know everyone is scared of something, right?”

Peter nods. Picks at the seam of his jeans. “I just… you’re Captain America.”

Steve chuckles. “Even Iron man and Captain America can be scared of something.” He tightens the arm over Peter's shoulders in a hug. “Just like you. That’s why we never mind when you need our company some nights.”

Peter looks up. “What was your nightmare about?”

Steve lets out a long sigh. “You sure you want to know about that?”

“You help me with my nightmares. I want to help with yours.”

He smiles softly down at Peter. A super hero in his own right. “You know my story, right? We’ve talked about how I met Tony. Becoming Captain America and… crashing. Waking up in this century after being in the ice.”

Peter nods. “I had to correct our history teacher sometimes. He didn’t like that very much.”

Steve laughs. “I’m sure.” Then his smile falls a little. “Deciding to crash that plane was the right thing to do. But it was really scary for me.”

Peter’s eyes widen, suddenly realizing what it must have been like. It’s been a while since he’s thought about how his dad came to live in this century. It’s so easy to believe they’re a normal family when his dads fight over what to cook for dinner, if Tony should even attempt to cook, and who left dirty laundry in the hall.

Steve continues, slightly hesitant. He wonders how much he should tell Peter. What could be too much for his still-young age. “I didn’t want to die,” he murmurs, “I just wanted to make sure no one else got hurt. But because of that, I didn’t wake up for a very long time. And… it took a while for me to get used to being here.”

“Do you like it here?”

Steve grins down at him. “Of course I do.” He hugs Peter close. “You and Tony are the most important things in this world to me. I don’t go a day without knowing how lucky I am to have been able to meet both of you.”

Peter hugs him tightly back. “But you still have nightmares?”

“About the plane crash. Not as much as I used to, but it still happens sometimes. Sometimes the cold makes me remember. Flying in a plane that’s having problems, like during our last mission.”

Peter looks up at him. “You know, plane crashes are actually very rare.”

Steve laughs. Leave it to Peter to go to statistics, just like Tony. “I know.”

“If you were in one though, I wouldn’t let you be alone. I promise.” He leans forward again, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug.

Steve doesn’t ask him how he planned on being there. He just takes the boy’s promise for what it is. “Thanks, buddy.”

Peter doesn’t move back to answer Steve’s earlier question. “I call you and Tony by name because you’re both ‘Dad’ to me. One isn’t more important than the other and I just really like calling you guys the same thing. I just make sure you know who I’m talking about by using your names. And… I think I’m old enough now.”

Steve hugs his son (God, his and Tony’s son! Will he ever get used to this?) tighter. “Of course you are. I appreciate it, Peter.” He blinks away the stinging in his eyes. Convincing Tony that adopting Peter was a good idea is the greatest victory he’s ever achieved.

Steve has one moment of heart-stopping fear when silence greets his conscious mind. He doesn’t remember his time under the ice, but in his dreams it’s always an unending silence. Nothing but empty sound. Darkness. Cold. It isn’t cold right now. That’s what gets him to start climbing out of the deep emptiness his mind is hovering in. The hope that if… when he opens his eyes, it won’t be to ice and snow. But to his family. To his son. To his husband.

He thinks he drifts in and out of consciousness for a while but always comes back into awareness to the feeling of warmth and the faint touch of earth beneath him. Each time he forces himself closer and closer to full lucidity. As his brain starts to come back online, he remembers a conversation with Peter. “I wouldn’t let you be alone. I promise.”

He becomes aware of a pressure in his ears. A familiar pressure. He’s had busted eardrums many times before. His job is full of explosions. Close, loud, lethal to normal humans explosions. This tells him that he’s not under ice. This isn’t like his dreams. He’s hurt. He… crashed another plane. But not into the ice. Onto a planet. An alien planet. Suddenly his memory about his talk with Peter clicks into place. Another plane. But not into ice. A dull throbbing of pain starts seeping into his senses.

He suddenly wonders if he succeeded in saving his son. If he succeeded in saving any of them. He doesn’t think Peter remembers that promise. It was years ago. But in the end, while that ship was crashing, Peter had been determined to stay with him. He would have. Steve knows it. That’s all that matters.

He gets his eyes to open eventually and is greeted by an intimate look at crushed pieces of plane and elements of earth that look reassuringly like their own planet Earth. Even as pain becomes more and more prevalent, he eventually realizes he can hear again. The first real thing he fully comprehends now that he has his hearing back is his son calling his name. It gives him the extra push he needs.

Pain is suddenly a fire up his side as he shifts even the slightest bit, telling him that he should be grateful that he’s even alive. Lightning shocks through him with every movement, but he pushes through it to finally get up enough to lean on a good arm. His right arm hangs uselessly and he knows it’s going to take an annoyingly long time to heal. Shaky eyes settling on the ship as he breathes through the pain in his chest, he blinks in shock and wonders how any of them had survived.

The whole front end is gone. Pieces of it are scattered through the whole area, an expanse not unlike the edge of some deserts on earth. He must have been thrown out at some point. He remembers... trees. The trees tore the cockpit apart before they made it to the flat area he had been aiming for. Spectacular shattering... then nothing. He looks over the rest of the ship, breathing a sigh of relief at the way it looks like it held up. Protection to his family. There are a few scattered fires, smoke rising up from some of the debris. He wonders if that’s a sign that there could be more hazardous fires inside the ship. They should move away from the wreckage.

Peter is frantically clawing at the rubble near the front of the ship. Bucky is behind him, pulling Clint up out of somewhere near a section of wreckage caught in the trees some hundreds of feet away, Clint’s head shaking before they turn to presumably look somewhere else. They’re all dirty, covered in dirt and soot. They’ve been looking for a while. They turn to where Peter is searching, both pairs of shoulders falling as they watch him dig with fervor.

They all look amazingly alive. With a surge of triumph, Steve musters up the energy to call out. He chokes on the first syllable, throat dry enough to send him into a coughing fit instead, sending fire up his side. By the time he gets it under control and the dizziness from the pain leaves, Bucky and Clint are helping Peter search again. Peter’s yells are getting more and more frantic. It hurts his heart.

He tries one more time. “Peter!” He’s helpless to stop the smile that spreads across his face when his son’s eyes scan the area around him and finally land on him in shock. Then he’s waiting as Peter runs to him, Bucky right behind with Clint on his heels. When Peter falls to his knees in front of him, Steve uses the last of his energy to throw his good arm around Peter's shoulders and pull him close, ignoring the pain that shoots through him at the frantic grabbing of his torso. “Love you.”

Peter sobs into his shoulder, hands clenching in the back of Steve’s shirt as he tries not to hug him too tight. “Love you too, dad.”

He lets himself relax then. He feels Bucky’s metal hand rest on his good shoulder and grip it tight, Clint’s hand resting lightly on the bad one. Surrounded by people he trusts with his and, more importantly, his son’s life, he finally gives back in to the darkness.

Chapter Text

Tony smiles down at his phone, answering the video call. “How’s my favorite person in the world doing?”

Peter laughs. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”

Tony scoffs. “Please. He knows you took over the moment we adopted you.”

With a laugh, Peter turns the phone to the window of the jet. “We’re landing now. I figured you’d wanna see for yourself that he’s okay.”

That makes Tony smile. Their son knows them so well. His eyes are locked on the screen as the two figures get closer and closer. The jet lands with a final jolt that makes the phone jerk, and he’s watching Steve and Bucky approach. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding all week.

“I know,” Peter murmurs, having heard it. He turns the phone back to himself. He’s smiling wide. “He looks good. It must have gone really well.”

Tony nods. “Go give him a good hug for me.”

The camera shows a flurry of activity then, glimpses of Clint in the pilot seat and the ramp lowering to let two figures board. Peter’s snark of “Somebody needs a shower!” makes Tony laugh out loud. His smile gets impossibly bigger when he hears Steve’s surprised voice and watches the camera swing past a bunch of things to stop at an intimate look at a very familiar jaw line.

Tony grins. “I know that jaw. I kiss along that jaw every chance I get.”

“Tony?”

“Ew, dad. Wait until I’m out of hearing distance please.”

They must separate from a hug then, Steve’s face showing on the phone seconds later. His smile is warm as he makes eye contact through the technological distance. God, Tony loves technology. “Hey handsome.”

Steve’s eyes shine. “Hey.”

“Peter wanted to go fossil hunting. Did he only find one or did he make a double score?” He can’t help but smirk at Steve’s sigh and Bucky’s glare that shows up in the edge of the phone’s screen.

“Those jokes are getting old, Stark.”

“Hey, just like you! What a coincidence!”

Steve sighs, the phone suddenly held above their heads as he glares into the camera and shoves Bucky away.

"Stark, I swear to God…”

“Natasha thinks they’re funny.”

Bucky’s face softens at the name and he finally stops trying to get through the brick wall named Steve.

“She’s good by the way. Says she’ll see you when you guys get back.”

Bucky huffs. “You’re forgiven.”

“You’re welcome, Barnes.”

Steve shoves him out of the frame before he can get another word in. “It’s nice to see you stayed out of trouble while I was gone.”

Tony sighs. “Only one time was my fault, Steve. One.”

Steve grins. “I miss you.”

Tony swallows. He never has gotten used to being with this man. “I miss you too. Unfortunately we have one more little thing to cover. I’m sure Clint will fill you in after you guys debrief and I’m sure you’ll need a nap. But I think it’ll be another two days before I’ll see you face to face.”

Steve sighs. “It’s always something.”

Tony tries for a reassuring smile. “It won’t be long. And hopefully uneventful. Then I’ll have you back where you belong.”

Steve smiles a little. “I love you.”

Tony sighs. “You’re not helping.”

Steve grins. “I love you.”

“And I love you. Now go. Get some rest. Barnes?”

Bucky peeks back over Steve’s shoulder.

“Thanks for watching my man. Make him get some sleep.”

Bucky nods. “Done deal.”

Steve sighs fondly. “See you later, Tony.”

Tony smiles at the sounds of Steve growling at Bucky as the phone lowers and gets handed back to Peter. “Hey, buddy.”

Peter nods. “We’ll see you soon. Okay? If we get there at the perfect time we can even make it to your ship and not have to take our own.”

Tony nods. “Maybe. In the meantime, stay out of trouble.”

Peter sighs. “I’m nineteen. Not two.”

“Love you,” Tony states pointedly, though he’s fighting a smile.

Peter sighs, but can’t help a small smile of his own. “Love you too, Dad.”

It was supposed to be a peace signing. Thor had asked them to come with him just as peacekeepers and support as he settled the treaty between the two races that were dangerously close to a confrontation, which would have led them to the midpoint between their territories. Right into Earth’s own solar system. There’s no doubt that Earth would not have handled it well. They were to be representatives, voices for the peace that would keep their own home safe. Of course they accepted when Thor asked them to come. Thor rarely asked for their help with interstellar affairs.

Keeping a battle away had been crucial, not knowing how far into their territory this could end up. The treaty signing had been a decision that took them to the outskirts of one of the home planets, the initiators of the treaty agreeing to travel to the other territory, hoping their easy agreement would keep the hostility at the low it has come to hover at.

Coulson had come along because apparently they were all children who needed handling, never mind that they were all capable of handling themselves. Rhodey had been around at the time, on leave and keeping Tony company as he had been going crazy without Steve. He never gave up a chance to travel with the group, and agreed to come along as well. Sam came because he was around and free, an avenger but not always on call. Just in case Steve and Bucky had not finished their mission on time, he wanted to make sure the group had all the help they could get.

Natasha had come along because not only had she been unable to say no to Thor, but apparently Coulson needed help keeping four grown adults out of trouble. (“One nanny for every two or three kids,” was her insulting reasoning.) Tony suspected that she just wanted to be closer to Bucky until they could all go home. Wanted to be able to see him through the windows when their ship pulled up rather than over a video feed. And maybe in person if the peace treaty went well and they were all able to land on a planet to escape confines of the ship.

Steve and Bucky had been on mission when Thor had asked the rest of them to come along. They finished up just in time for Clint to pick them up at the rendezvous point, Peter tagging along after begging with both him and Tony to be there to see his dad. They’d meet up with them on their own ship.

It had been a long two weeks since they’d seen Steve. Tony couldn’t begrudge his son from seeing the man he missed so much himself. With a promise from him to call him when they were together, he had relented. Peter was an adult, let alone the fact that he was his own superhero now. He technically didn’t have to ask. It was out of respect and Tony knew that. So he let him go. If he had known what disaster was in store for them, he’d have begged him to stay home.

The ship with their own group had been hit first, just as they were arriving to the gathered fleets of opposing species’. It was a glancing blow that had startled them more than crippled the ship, but it was enough for errors to light up at the controls.

Seconds after the initial hit, Tony is covered in his Iron Man armor, Rhodey doing the same. “What the hell was that? We just got here!”

Thor is gripping a chair that had caught his fall. He lets out an annoyed sound that can only be described as a growl. “The negotiations were cut short.” He motions to the view in front of them, the obvious war going on. “I don’t believe they were aiming for us.”

“Guys.” Coulson gets their attention, leaning over the controls to look out the front window. “The edge of a cluster is not where we want to be.”

Natasha slides into the pilot’s seat, taking it off of auto pilot as it had been traveling towards the coordinates Thor had set. She frowns at the oncoming fleet. “Everyone hold on. We need to get out of the danger zone.” Her lips press together in displeasure at the number of new errors popping up as she tries to navigate away from the fight.

Coulson rolls his eyes as Tony starts humming the song from Top Gun and turns to Thor. “Do you want us to stay?”

Looking guiltily out at the beginning of a battle, Thor shakes his head. “I cannot help anyone without an army. They aren’t endangering earth and I have no way of contributing. Bringing you was to ensure the future safety of Earth. To have them meet you and see that endangering another planet was not something they should do. But… now would not be a good time for that. They have decided their fate. At least it was away from earth. Let us get to safety before anything else is decided.”

“Mac to PC, do you copy?”

Coulson sighs.

Natasha looks to him, amused despite the situation. She connects the comm, but lets him answer as she steers the ship away from the start of the battle.

“Clint, what did I tell you about code names?”

“That I should use them more?”

Tony cuts in before Coulson can reply. “I shudder to be associated with something as inferior as a PC.”

Steve answers this time. “Hammer Tech to Stark Tech we have visual on a confrontation. Do we engage?”

Tony gapes at the ship coming into view, leaning over Natasha to answer at the tiny speck in the distance. “I renounce you as my husband, you traitor!”

“Do not engage!” Thor finishes.

“Confirmed, staying back. And I refuse the divorce proposal.”

Tony can’t help but laugh. “I missed you, Captain Sassy.”

“And now that I’m back I’m taking point, seeing as how I’m sure Thor didn’t plan for this. Retreat to a safe distance until we’re sure about what’s going to happen. Is this planet human safe, Thor?“

“It is. We could land there to regroup.”

“Okay. Let’s-”

“Steve! Watch-!”

The fear that laced Bucky’s voice in the background sets everyone’s hair on end. The explosion happens before most of them see the glowing speck aiming straight for the other ship. It was another random hit. That’s all it was. One random, stray shot from the war now raging that managed to make impact at the exact location for a perfect crippling.

Three voices cry out in anguish, the “No!”, “James!”, and “Clint!” resounding in mockery of a harmony. The complete silence that follows is deafening.

Clint’s “Shit!” breaks the silence over the coms, letting them know that it was still connected. No one says a word as they watch the tiny burning ship in the distance start to gravitate towards the closest planet, Clint’s voice fading into the background as he yells at Bucky to check the damage. All they can do is wait for an update from someone.

When nothing comes, Natasha starts yelling for someone to answer her.

Seeing the ship with the most important person in his life aboard it, hit and crashing towards an unknown planet, was probably the new worst thing Tony has ever seen. Hearing Natasha get no answer as she yells over the comm sets ice into his heart. Not being able to do anything about it because there’s no way off the ship without compromising the cabin pressure… he’s never felt so helpless in the armor.

They’ve lost visual now, the other ship following the curve of the alien planet’s atmosphere as gravity does its work. But Tony knows what’s happening. What Steve had to be going through right now. Could picture Steve’s hands gripping the controls tight enough to hear them creak under his strength.

He busies himself disengaging from the armor, trying to lower the temptation to screw cabin pressure and go to their rescue. When he’s free, he goes to stand behind the still yelling Natasha. When the silence stretches on, he leans over the comm and yells one commanding word. “Steve!”

The answer comes almost immediately. “Tony.”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut at the choked voice. Very few times has he heard Steve sound so genuinely terrified. And to think it was his own voice that was able to pull him from his past…

“Stark! We don’t have control! It’s too damaged! What do we do?”

The question breaks Tony from his silence, obscenities spewing from his mouth as he turns away from the controls and Coulson moves closer. He feels so helpless.

Rhodey comes up to Tony then, Sam following and looking a little haggard. “We weren’t hit bad, but the damage is spreading. We need to land. Now.”

“We’ve lost visual. How bad is the damage, Clint?” They all turn to Coulson, a hush settling when they see his slumped position.

“I don’t… I can’t tell.” Clint’s frustration at being helpless is evident. “I only fly this thing on occasion, I didn’t build it!”

“No, I did!” Tony’s hands come up to run through his hair, mind running through schematics of the ship. Numbers and percentages. Things that could possibly be fixed without landing. Without letting it crash. Without-

“Dad!”

And just like that, the numbers stop and his blood runs cold.

Sam swears quietly behind him and Natasha freezes at the controls.

Rhodey reaches out to grip Tony’s shoulder a little too tightly with the armor.

Tony pulls out of the hold and shoves his way past Coulson, all but collapsing over the comm. “Oh God I forgot you were in there too. Peter, buddy what do you see?” Head hanging, he keeps his eyes closed to listen to his son’s voice. Tries to picture the scene that must be playing out on that other ship. Oh God his family…

“The only reason we haven’t nosedived is because Dad has a hold on the controls,” Peter chokes out.

Tony grits his teeth. His son should never sound so scared. Hasn’t sounded like that in a very long time. It cuts him to the bone that he isn’t there to help. To make everything better like he’s done time and again whenever he was able. The arc reactor failing is nothing to this. This, not being able to save his family… that’s agony.

“We’re hit pretty bad. Bucky tried to fix some of the damage but got hurt. We had to engage the pressure lock and shut the doors to the back of the ship when something blew.”

Natasha lets out a low hiss but keeps her renewed focus on keeping their own ship steady.

Tony doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing else anyone can do. They just have to try and land that ship. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. He hates himself for what he needs to ask Steve to do. “Steve.” He chokes up. Can’t do it.

Steve understands anyway. “I won’t let them die.”

Tony lets out a grateful sigh, mentally thanking Steve for not making him ask and smiles a little at the determination he hears in the fierce hiss.

Clint speaks then. “Phil. I’ll see you soon.”

Phil lets out a soft sigh, his back now turned to everyone.

The next voice grabs everyone’s attention. “What? No! Dad! Let go, Clint! I’m not leaving him alo- Bucky no! Let me go! Dad!”

Tony bites his lip to keep back a sob, easily picturing Clint dragging Peter back, his son almost pulling away with his superhuman strength before Bucky wraps his metal arm around him and drags him away. To a safer part of the ship. He loves his friends in that moment. Vows to thank them any way he can if they survive. He winces. When. When they survive.

“Tony.” The shake in Steve’s voice is evident.

Tony knows he hated the sound of their son calling for him just as much as he did. He pulls up the last reserves of confidence in his husband and opens his eyes. He stares fiercely at the last place he saw the ship going through the atmosphere of the alien planet though it’s out of view now. His hands grip the edge of the control panel. His knuckles are white. “Land that ship.” His voice is haggard. “You hear me? Don’t crash it. Land it. We’ll see you soon. Okay? In a few days. We’re landing our own suffering ship before it fails us and we’ll stay where we are and make repairs, okay? Find us there and we’ll go home. Promise me, Steve.”

It’s quiet for a few tense seconds. Then, “Love you, Tony.”

Tony practically bares his teeth, hearing the avoided promise. “Steven Grant Stark!”

Silence.

“Steve!”

The static cuts out.

Natasha sits silently next to him, eyes locked on the last place she saw the ship crashing to the planet like Tony. Tries to believe that her family could somehow survive. That Bucky could survive. She and Bucky weren’t new. But… but there were so many things she hadn’t gotten to tell him yet. Hadn’t made herself tell him. Now she wishes she didn’t hold so many cards close to her chest.

Coulson turns and walks away, usually straight, imposing shoulders slumped in defeat. He and Clint had been together for a long while now. It had come to a head whenever Clint had found out that he was alive. That he hadn’t lost his chance.

Tony stares out the window. “No.” He shakes his head. “No!” His hands where they’re still gripping the edge of the controls make it creak.

Thor moves forward, arms reaching out when he sees Tony start to shake. “Tony.” His own heart hurts for the loss of his friends. His family he had adopted and who had adopted him in return. His own turmoil gives him measure to how much more Tony must be feeling. He’s ready when the smaller man explodes.

“NO!” His hand is stopped before it punches into the controls, his anger surging forward as he feels himself start to be restrained. “No, no, no, no, no!”

Tears blur his vision, but he still sees Natasha reach out and start to land the ship on the planet as Thor drags him away. “Find them! Find the-!”

The ship shudders as another glancing blow hits them on their other side, making Natasha swear in Russian, switching through five other languages as more alarms light up the panel in front of her. Everyone leaves her be, knowing her tells for when she is really angry. They trust her to land the ship.

Coulson is the one who goes over to where Thor is dragging Tony to a seat. “Tony. You need to-“

“Don’t tell me what I need to do!” Fiery eyes lock onto Coulson. “I needed to save my husband,” he hisses out. “I needed to save my son!” His voice cracks. “I needed to save my family and all I could do was stand there and watch!”

Coulson doesn’t really know what to say to that. Yes, he may have lost Clint too. But losing not one, but two people you’ve come to love so dearly… Yes, Coulson cared for them all. And Natasha surely cared for her best friend and her nephew, but there’s always something about the person you choose as your own for the rest of your life. And for Tony to not only lose that, but his son he chose to adopt so long ago… Coulson has nothing reassuring to say.

Rhodey sits in the seat next to him, metal arm coming to rest over his shoulders and pull him into his side. He knows Tony doesn’t find any part of the armor uncomfortable. In fact, it’s almost always a comfort. Something familiar. “There was nothing you could do,” he murmurs. His own voice is pained. Tony is his brother. Steve? Peter? They're as much family as any blood relative he has. He may have just lost a brother in law. And a nephew. Though he's reassuring Tony, the ice-cold grip of fear is settling into his own heart. He looks helplessly up to Thor when Tony doesn't answer.

Thor kneels in front of him. Looks him in the eye. “They may yet still be alive. Just because the ship was damaged enough to lose contact, doesn’t mean it was damaged enough to not keep them alive.”

Natasha swears again as the ship shudders, signaling their descent through the atmosphere. “We can’t go find them,” she grits out. Everyone hears how much she hates to say that. “I’m barely keeping this thing up. We’re losing altitude against my control and it’s going to be a jarring landing as it is. There aren’t many clear places to land here.” They all flinch as the swearing starts up again with new fervor when they make it through the outer layers of the atmosphere.

Sam juts his jaw in determination and goes over to monitor stats and do what he can to help. If their lost are going to come back to them, they're going to actually need a family to come back to. All he can do for Steve, Peter, Bucky, and Clint, is make sure he keeps those inside this ship alive.

When Thor turns back to Tony, his gaze softens again as he sees the slumped position and empty gaze. “Brother.”

That gets Tony’s attention. His eyes move over to him.

Thor nods once. “They will come meet us. And I am truly sorry for being the one to get us all in this place.”

Tony breaks himself out of his depression, shaking his head as he leans forward to let his face fall into his hands. “It’s not your fault.” He lets out an empty laugh. “This isn’t your fault, buddy. You didn’t mean to put us in danger.”

“That was not my intention, no,” Thor allows, “but I do believe that the only reason this is happening is because I asked you to come.”

Coulson sits in the empty seat on the other side of Tony as Rhodey, who only sits in silent support. “Tony is right, Thor,” he interjects before the blond could get another word in. “This happening is not your doing. We’d never blame you. You wouldn’t have asked us to come to war for you. We know that. Besides, it’s better that this happened out here, and not near earth.”

Thor only nods once. Doesn’t say anything else. Nothing will come from arguing over blame.

Rhodey’s head whips around when Sam swears sharply. “Sam?”

“The damage is getting worse! We’re about to lose total power. Tony, Rhodes, we’re through the atmosphere. Can you help stabilize us as we land? Is the air really safe to open the doors, Thor?”

“Aye it is. Much like earth.”

The man who stands up isn’t Tony Stark. Tony Stark would have made a quip. Feigned insult at having been asked. Iron Man is who puts on the suit and goes over to stand silently by the door with Rhodey until Sam finally gets it open.

Coulson straps in just before the blast of air that blows in, Thor swaying in place. Only Tony and Rhodey aren’t affected, moving forward and getting ready to fly out.

Natasha’s hands are firmly on the controls, eyes focused on an open area of ground. “I’m heading towards the field straight ahead!” she calls back. “We just need you to keep us balanced. I’m losing control of our stabilization and navigation controls.” The ship starts sputtering. She sighs dryly. "And there goes our power."

Without a word, Iron Man and War Machine are gone and the ship suddenly stops shuddering as much as it has been.

Natasha lets out a relieved sigh and turns to Sam. “Let’s land this.”

Chapter Text

Bucky dreams of the explosion, waking up in the hospital in a panic and unable to calm himself until a sturdy hand smacks itself into his chest and forces him to lay flat on his back. Sharp eyes swim into focus, identifying Clint Barton as the person who is suddenly kneeling over his prone form.

With a hand up in a ‘calm down’ gesture and a tap to Bucky's collarbone with the hand already on his chest, Clint smiles a little and mouths the word ‘relax’.

Except… Bucky can feel the vibrations of the word through the hand on his chest but he can’t hear them. In a second, he realizes he’s deaf. He should be hearing the beeping of monitors, the voices of nurses and doctors, the sound of the damn fly that flies right through his line of sight. But he doesn’t. He hears nothing.

Just as he’s starting to panic (again), another face joins Clint’s. Natasha’s eyes are more frightened than Bucky has ever seen them. A bit too wide. Bright with panic even though she still has her tight hold on her facial features. It gives him a second’s pause, not wanting to scare her more. Instead, he forces himself to breathe, reaching up to tap at his ear and aiming a questioning look at both of them.

Clint nods, finally trusting Bucky not to freak out enough to stop kneeling over him and stand by the bed like a normal person. And then he surprises him by signing as he speaks, slow enough for Bucky to read his lips and see the motions that accompany them. ‘It will be okay. With your healing, it’s not permanent.’

He opens his mouth to reply, but not being able to hear his own voice shuts down his willingness to talk. A soft touch to his arm turns his attention to Natasha. To his shock, she signs too.

‘Clint is partially deaf,’ she signs and speaks. Once again, slow enough, and with sharp, over exaggerated, articulation for Bucky to read her lips. ‘You want to learn to sign?’ She smiles hesitantly, like she’s afraid she’s offending him.

Looking back to Clint, he finds peace in the smirk on Clint’s face. Normalcy is all he needs right now. If Clint has lived with this, then he can too. He nods.

Clint’s grin grows.

Bucky’s hearing returns days later, his envy for Steve’s faster healing abilities lessened by his learning of signing and knowing that unlike Clint, he’s lucky enough to get his hearing back.

The ASL lessons kept on for months and spread through the entire Avengers Tower until they all knew enough for full-length conversations. Sometimes they use it just to make Clint smile.

The next time Steve opens his eyes, it’s dark. Lying still to get a feel for the situation, his ears pick up the sounds of a crackling fire and only one other breathing pattern next to him. As memories start to come back to him, that starts to come as a very bad sign.

Surging upward as his eyes snap open, an uncontrollable cry jumps from his throat at the explosion of pain that shoots up his side just as his eyes land on Bucky sitting next to him in the dim light of the fire.

“Son of a- Steve lay back down!” Bucky’s hands are on him in a second, forcing him back to lying flat on the ground.

The pain lessens instantly, letting him breathe smoother though it takes longer for the panting and hurt sounds to stop. He’s sure Bucky won’t fault him for them. His arm feels like it’s on fire and he does his best to keep it flat on the ground as a dull throb keeps up in his side, making him groan. “Peter.”

Bucky sighs. “He’s fine, you moron. You hugged him not a few hours ago or did you forget our Kodak moment? He’s out with Clint scavenging in the ship. The kid needed something else to focus on besides your sorry ass. Now lay still.”

Steve lets out a small groan as he feels his friend’s hands start prodding along his sides. He’s half tempted to tease Bucky about the old commercial reference, old commercials being something they both watched to sum up much of the product changes and advances in the time they missed back when they were both new to this time. He’s too tired. “Broken rib?”

“Two. One was already healing when you passed out and scared the living daylights out of your boy. The lower one,” he punctuates this with a sharp poke that makes Steve grunt and wince in response, “needed maneuvering before it could start healing back together. I’m glad you were out for that.”

“Me too,” Steve sighs.

“Your arm is even more of a mess, but it was easier to see if anything was out of place. We were able to get it wrapped pretty well.” He still prods gently along Steve’s bad arm, checking for any sign that Steve had messed up their work. It’s wrapped from shoulder to palm, looping around Steve’s thumb to keep every bone secure down to the wrist. There were a lot of breaks in there.

“How are you guys?” Steve’s voice is tight from the pain of Bucky’s touch.

Bucky tangles his fingers with Steve’s in apology after he’s moved all the way down his arm. “Clint has some spectacular bruising and scratches from the crash but is otherwise okay. Peter attached to the floor at first impact and I had a hold of one of the bolted chairs and sunk my fingers into the floor to hold me over him as a seatbelt so he’s pretty much unscathed.”

Steve lets out a short laugh, wincing in pain. “I love how that’s normal for us. ‘Just sunk my fingers into the floor’.”

Bucky chuckles, wiggling the fingers of his metal hand. “At least Hydra gave me one good thing. Though… I guess this one is Tony’s…”

Steve gets serious. “Thank you. For keeping Peter safe.”

Bucky waves it off. “Kid’s my nephew. And what good am I if I can’t keep my brother’s son safe?”

Steve smiles softly at him. “You used to be everything. Now you’re part of my everything. Keeping Peter safe was good. But how are you?”

Bucky shrugs. His hands sink into his hoodie’s pockets. He’s out of uniform and looks a little haggard.

Steve suddenly remembers what Peter said as they were crashing. He lifts his head to look Bucky in the eye. “Peter said you were hurt. What happened?”

Bucky sighs. “I’m fine, Steve. Healing already.”

Steve lifts his head more. “Show me or I sit up.”

Bucky knows he’ll do it. Doesn’t put up a fight. Unzipping his hoodie reveals the stark white of gauze. “I’m not unwrapping it. Clint cleaned it up and checked for more damage.”

Steve’s eyes widen at the wide expanse of white that goes from Bucky’s chest to the bottom of his ribs. “What…?”

Bucky grins wryly. “Tony showed me what to do if this ship were ever to get really damaged way back when he was building it. He had warned me it would be rough if it wasn’t him in the suit. There was just no other way to do it.”

Steve frowns. “What did you do?”

“There were some wires we needed to re-route in order to be able to activate the pressure lock on the back of the ship after they were fried farther back. We were rapidly losing pieces of the ship and I knew when it got too thin that we could say goodbye to cabin pressure and we would be thrown off axis.”

Steve nods. “There’d be no hope of a controlled landing then. We would have been dead for sure.”

“I had to keep Clint from offering to do it, climbing through things being his style. But I knew that the repairs would hurt him too much. Getting to the wires was the easy part compared to finding the right ones and attaching them without touching anything else through the bending and contorting I had to do to reach them.” He shrugs. “I couldn’t keep from touching anything else.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “You were electrocuted?”

Bucky nods with a wince. “My gear could only hold out for so long. Then it was like what I would imagine as being stung by a man-o-war. Clint said that the burns sure looked like that anyway.”

Steve is at a loss. “And you did that within seconds of us getting hit?”

Bucky shrugs. “I knew it had to be done. Wasn’t going to let you crash another ship without doing what I could to help this time.” He gives Steve a lopsided grin. “Let’s not make this a habit, okay?”

Steve shakes his head, eyes falling closed. His whole body still hurts. He has a feeling that if he weren’t a super soldier he’d be dead right now. Something is definitely wrong with his head if the pounding inside and disorientation tells him anything. Severe trauma will take a few more hours to start to go away. But to think that Bucky did that as they were on their way to crashing… “I could kiss you right now.”

“Go to sleep, Romeo. I’ll wake you when Peter gets back.”

“Promise,” he mumbles, already letting himself fall back to sleep.

“Promise.” Bucky sits vigil at the fire as Steve sleeps. Not unlike many of their other missions. When Steve’s snores start up seconds later, he smiles affectionately. Steve only snores when he’s comfortable enough to go into a deep sleep. It means Steve trusts him. Reaching over, he rests his hand on his lifelong friend’s chest. “I’ve got your back, Stevie. As always.”

It isn’t long before the other two return, bags slung over their shoulders and pulling a makeshift pallet of what looks like food and other supplies. Clint grins a little. “Ship has been plundered and pillaged, Sergeant major.”

Peter notices Bucky’s hand on Steve’s chest. “Did he wake up?”

Bucky nods. “Threw a fit when he noticed you guys were gone. You wanna see if he’ll wake up again?”

Peter shakes his head. “He should sleep more.” He bites his lip.

Clint notices, chuckling. “Kid, you need to see your Dad. And besides, Steve probably wants to see you too. Let him breathe a little easier and get your own fill of reassurance.”

Bucky stands, letting Peter have his spot close to the fire. “I’ll help Clint with sorting through this stuff.”

Peter sits next to Steve’s shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath as he spreads his fingers over his chest. Watches it rise and fall. When Steve collapsed against him… he was sure that was it. That he was watching his father die. If it wasn’t for Clint… well he’s fine now. He’s fine. That’s all that matters.

“I’m fine.” Steve’s eyes slowly open, a small smile curving his lips.

Peter smiles shakily back. “I’m glad.”

Steve’s larger hand moves up to cover Peter’s. There isn’t all that much of a difference anymore. “Bucky will kill me if I sit up, but I want to see that you’re okay.” He smiles bigger at Peter’s eye roll.

“I’m better off than you. Just some minor bruising. Most of which you can blame your best bud for.”

Steve’s smile disappears and he raises his head. “What?”

Peter lays his free hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare get up. Sorry, bad joke. I just gave Bucky a hard time as he was dragging me away. The metal arm isn’t all that comfortable when it’s tight.”

Steve lets out a hissed breath. “Still.”

Peter looks him in the eye. “I didn’t want to leave you all alone.”

Squeezing the hand still in his, Steve smiles softly. “I know. But I’m your father. I won’t ever want you in danger. Not to mention Tony would kill me if I didn’t do what I could to protect you.”

Peter grins. “He’s going to kill you anyway. He doesn’t like you getting hurt either. You know that.”

Steve huffs, eyes falling closed. “I know. And we were so close. I haven’t seen him in so long and we were so close.”

Peter squeezes his hand.

Steve opens his eyes. “I miss him, Pete.”

Peter lets go of his father’s hand and lies down perpendicular to him, resting his head on his chest, high enough to avoid the bad ribs and facing him. His eyes follow a cut that runs up along Steve’s jaw. “I know.” He remembers the past months of craziness. How Steve and Tony barely had time to fall into bed to sleep at the same time, let alone talk to each other face to face. “Do you think they’re okay?” He runs his gaze over the rest of Steve’s bruised face. They’re already fading, but it still makes him wince in sympathy.

“Yes,” is the immediate answer. The only answer he’ll let himself think. “You know Tony. Once they were through the atmosphere he’d get them safely down. And he’ll have everything fixed up by the time we find them. You’ll see.”

Peter groans. “But how will we find them?”

Steve pulls his arm out from under Peter, resting it over his son’s shoulders. He tightens it lightly in a reassuring hug. “I looked at our positioning as we were crashing. I know the vague direction. We’ll be fine.”

Bucky comes to sit next to them then. “Steve seems to have a knack for finding lost people.”

Steve looks to him with a grin. “Says the very first one.”

Clint sits next to Bucky, adding another branch to the fire. “So when do you want us to be ready to head out, Cap?”

Steve sighs. “We’ll see how things feel in the morning.”

Clint frowns. “You think you should be moving that soon?”

Steve shrugs his good shoulder just a bit. “I should be more stable in a few hours. Let my ribs heal a little. Wake me when the sun comes up. The more I sleep the faster I heal. I’ll make up my turn to watch sometime soon.”

Clint waves him off. “No keeping track, Cap. You’re excused.” He turns to lean his back against Bucky’s, who lets his head fall back to rest on Clint’s shoulder.

Getting comfortable against Clint’s back, Bucky closes his eyes to get a few hours of sleep before his next turn to watch. “Sleep tight.”

Peter’s eyes fall closed where his head is still resting on Steve’s chest. “Is my head too heavy?”

Steve smiles a little. Moves his hand from Peter's shoulders to gently cup the back of his head. His fingers play with the short strands of hair there. “No. I need you close anyway. I could have lost you today.”

Peter chuckles tiredly, already hallway to falling asleep. “Nah. Captain America never fails.”

Steve goes back to sleep with a smile on his face.

***

Bucky takes up watch when Clint jostles him, returning the favor from earlier and letting Clint rest his head on his shoulder. He understands the need for something at your back, always willing to keep the archer feeling safe as he’s become accustomed to on missions with him.

Missions with Clint seem to always include Natasha on the ground with them and Phil’s comfortingly capable voice over their coms, which is just fine with Bucky. It’s different than missions with Steve. With Steve it’s a go in, take a little recon (which may last longer like their last mission), then take care of the problem. With the Wonder Twins, it’s always something that requires more manipulation and coercion. All grifting before hitting. A more elegant approach.

Bonding with Clint happened naturally. Soon after he was getting back to his normal self thanks to Steve, he and Clint were fellow pains in Steve’s ass when it came to mouthing off during fights with the villain of the month. Soon after that, Tony was joking that they may as well have given Clint a new brother.

Natasha came a little later, but the attraction was evident. The Wonder Twins became the Terrible Triplets, and Tony cursed everything Natasha taught him while Steve smiled like his long lost friend fitting in was the best thing he could imagine. Bruce learned that turning around and walking out was better than asking, and Thor… he was mostly game for anything anyway.

Bucky smiles to himself as he keeps watch, feeling Clint’s breathing deepen. It’s been roughly ten years since he got his mind back. Then he got a family and got to watch his best friend, who he thought would be forever hopeless, start a family and adopt a nine year old a couple years later.

Add on his luck at having someone as closed off as Natasha open up and love him… when they get back home, he’s sucking it up and telling her they’re getting married. Forget asking. It’s been eight years. She’s obviously sticking around. Even if it’s just through documentation. No muss, no fuss. Call him an old fashioned romantic, but there’s something about that piece of paper that tells the world that she’s his. And he’s hers.

“I can always tell when you’re thinking about Nat.”

Bucky blinks, looking to Peter. “Oh?”

Peter smiles from his place still laying on his dad. “You get all happy and shit. It’s cute.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes.

Peter’s eyes fall closed again. “James?”

Bucky’s ears perk up at that. It’s rare that Peter ever uses his full name. “Yeah, Peter?”

“I asked Dad already, but I know he likes to make me feel better. Do you really think they landed okay?”

Bucky considers it for a while. “They weren’t hit as bad as we were,” he finally answers. “And Nat was flying, I’m sure. She’s one of our best. They had Tony to help them if anything went wrong and Sam to offer a pilot’s skillset. Phil is capable, in all situations it seems, and Thor will keep them safe.”

“I think Rhodey is with them too,” Peter adds. “He was visiting Tony before we left so I think he would have come.”

Bucky relaxes even more at that information. “And they had War Machine. Perfect. There’s no possible way they crashed with both Tony and Rhodes.”

It’s quiet after that for a long while. As the sky starts to get lighter, Clint stirs against his back. “Ugh. I’m sore all over.”

Bucky chuckles. “Yeah I’m sure we’re all a little worse for wear.”

Peter groans as he sits up, but stretches before smiling. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” is the unanimous reply.

He rolls his eyes. “You guys worry too much.”

“Better too much than not enough,” Steve murmurs behind him.

Bucky and Clint move over, crouching next to him. It’s Clint who speaks first. “How’re you feeling, Cap?”

“Like I crashed another plane.”

Bucky glares. “That’s not funny.”

Steve snorts. “You weren’t even there for the first one.”

“Still not funny,” Peter mutters.

Steve reaches out to take his hand. “Sorry.”

“You think we’ll be able to move today?” Bucky asks.

Steve moves to push himself up, grunting in pain. He breathes easier when he’s leaning on his good arm. “If we go slow.” He nods down towards his bad arm. “And we might want to secure this thing to me.”

“It’ll take us a while to figure out exactly the best way to carry all of our supplies. How about you rest while Barnes and I figure that out? Then we’ll set you up for travel and head out.” Clint pats his shoulder, standing and turning towards their pile of supplies they scavenged from the ship.

Peter smiles a little at Steve as he lies back down. “All of our bags with our extra clothes are fine. All of the survival packs are in tact. Half of the MREs were lost or burned in the explosion but we should have enough. Clint and I were able to get most of our things out.”

Steve has a sudden thought. Eyes snapping wide, he looks pleadingly to his son for good news. “My shield?”

Peter smiles. “We found it. It’s fine. Would you like me to get it?”

Steve chuckles. “Later.” He lets his head fall back. “Like Tony and his armor, I just couldn’t bear to leave my best girl.”

Peter, Clint, and Bucky pack things up as efficiently as possible, rigging up frames with metal scraps from the ship and loading their bags and food together in hauler packs. A little over what could be guessed as an hour later, Bucky and Clint help Steve stand. Peter steadies him when he goes pale and has to breathe through the pain.

“We can wait another day,” Bucky soothes.

Steve shakes his head. Thinks of Tony. How tore up he must be. Of Natasha waiting on Bucky and Phil waiting on Clint. Of the time it’s going to take to travel the distance he still hasn’t disclosed to any of them. “No. We’re going. We’ll just have to move really slow.” He leans heavily on Bucky, keeping his hand on his opposite side on Peter’s shoulder for stabilization.

Clint gets his arm bent and secures it to his chest, apologizing to the pained grunts he gest for moving it and pressing it in order to secure it better. When Steve nods an affirmative to Clint’s ‘You good?’, they start off, leaving the remains of the crash even farther behind them.

Chapter Text

Tony and Steve have the weirdest relationship the rest of their team has ever seen. One minute they’re yelling at each other, the next everyone is vacating the premises because as attractive as they both are, they all respect them too much to wait for an eyeful. Besides, Tony and Steve don’t like to share each other.

Then there’s the fact that Steve can calm Tony with a touch or, if the situation calls for it, can follow him with the energy to match the genius when he’s on a caffeine high after a long night of working. Sometimes Steve stays up with him, thanking Bruce when he comes down to bring them both coffee in the morning and sometimes he throws Tony over his shoulder and physically forces him into bed.

They fight over what to order for dinner or where to go out to eat before making a calendar and marking days when it’s their turn to choose. But when Steve has a bad day, Tony offers to go anywhere he wants just to see him smile. Steve also orders Tony’s favorite Italian after a particularly bad week for Tony even though it was Steve’s turn to choose and Tony orders that Italian way too often for Steve’s liking.

Tony pushes Steve to his limit when it comes to patience and Steve annoys Tony to no end when he gripes about him being safe even though he “already ran the numbers and it was the only way to save everyone”. Steve teaches Tony to fight like a soldier without the suit and Tony teaches Steve enough about the way his suits and other projects work and gives him enough clearance that with anyone else it would probably be detrimental to his health. He knows Steve is safe and Steve knows Tony loves him even though he doesn’t say it until more than a year into their relationship. They’re total opposites, but they make it work.

Being a team of superheroes means that many of them have weird quirks and most of their dates get canceled or turned into fights for the city. They’ve accepted this. Tony and Steve’s first anniversary since they’ve started dating is spent keeping the world from being taken over. Again. They order food for the entire team when they get home and spend the night on the couch watching a movie with everyone in a group therapy/patch up session when they could have gone off on their own. It’s nice.

It’s not long after their second anniversary that Steve brings up the idea of forever. They’re laying in bed, he doesn’t even have a ring, but the light coming through the window as the sun comes up lights up Tony’s eyes when he opens them and Steve has a second to think, ‘Mine. He’s all mine’, and decides he wants this forever. Before he even decides to speak, the words are pouring out of his mouth.

“Marry me.”

Tony’s tired smile that had just started spreading across his face vanishes quicker than it appeared, and… Steve kind of wants to shoot himself in the face. “What?”

He knows it’s going to be hard. But he also knows that if he pushes, Tony will eventually give in. He just has to prove he really wants it. That he’s not going to change his mind. Steve steels himself. “Marry me. And no bullshit about being bad at commitment. It’s been two years-”

“Exactly!” Tony sits up, suddenly wide awake. “What happens in another year when you decide I’m too much work?”

Steve rolls his eyes, not moving from where he’s only propped up on his elbow on his side. Lets Tony have the high ground. “I’m not going to think that. You’re more than worth anything you can dish out. Even arguing about getting married.”

Tony chokes at that word, eyes huge. “You can’t be serious. I mean… I was just able to tell you I love you a few months ago!”

Steve smiles, but it’s one of both affection and resignation. His voice lowers to a mix of soothing and seductive. “You aren’t the only one who knows how to get what they want, Tony.” He finally pushes himself up, kissing Tony and smiling into it when the smaller man lets out a shuddering breath. “Tell you what. Think about it. I’ll ask you again someday.”

A lot of fights start after that, Tony bringing it up in their arguments and using it as ammunition against Steve like bullets when he’s feeling particularly vicious. He apologizes after every time, Steve whispering ‘it’s okay, it’s okay’ into his skin as he kisses his way across his stomach when they’re making up. Yes, it hurts. But he knows Tony’s tells for when he’s scared. He’s more than happy to reassure him that he’s not going to leave over a few little tantrums.

Two months after the question, Tony watches Steve fall from a building. The desperate cry of ‘Tony!’ echoed inside his helmet as a mockery as he raced to catch him. The horror he felt as he wasn’t able to get there in time is something he’ll never be able to put into words.

Sitting silently next to the bed in medical for two days leaves him a long time to think.

When Steve finally opens his eyes, Tony’s heart breaks at the smile that spreads across his face. “’-re ‘kay.”

The pieces of his heart break down to dust as he realizes that Steve, selfless Steve, is just glad that Tony was okay without Steve there to have his back. “Marry me.” The words are choked out like they’re escaping from the mantra that had been running through his head since he sat in this chair: Wake up and marry me. I’ve made up my mind. Wake up and marry me.

Steve smiles wider, though it must hurt. “I asked first.”

“Then yes,” Tony hisses. “Yes, okay? I’m selfish. You have to stay with me and you won’t have a choice if you marry me.”

Steve weakly reaches his hand out, taking Tony’s and tangling their fingers together. His smile lights up the room. “Sounds perfect.”

The landing was less than spectacular, but considering the damage to their ship it could have been worse. Tony stands before the ship and looks over the mess of wires, parts, and destroyed paneling, absentmindedly twirling the ring on his left hand. He looks down when he realizes what he’s doing, reading the binary code that’s carved into the metal as he spins it. Three rows of tiny zeros and ones. Iloveyou

He had taught Steve the basics of binary code. Taught him what it does and how it works. Steve’s learning curve is phenomenal. Even so, it takes a strong interest to learn everything about computer language. The fact that Steve paid enough attention to add that tiny little detail to his ring… It’s never failed to make him smile. Except for today.

“How’s it look?”

Tony turns to Rhodey, shaking his head as he drops his hands and tucks them in his pockets. “It’s a piece of work alright. I’ll have to make a lot of my own tools because I don’t pack my whole workshop with me. The wires are going to be the hardest part.” He sighs internally when he realizes where a lot of those wires are going to come from.

Rhodey nods. “Let me know what I can do to help. I know the basics.”

Tony tries to smile. “I know. I’ll need you and Nat to give me some details from inside when I start getting deeper into the repairs but for now… I just have to plan.”

Rhodey reaches out, running a hand up and down his arm. Tony’s sad attempt at a smile didn’t fool him. “They’re okay. You know that, right?”

He sighs, looking down. “I never did optimism well.”

“Lucky for you, you have us. And we know that Steve could land that plane. It’s not like back when he crashed into the ice. He didn’t have to crash it. He had to save it. And this time, he had too many reasons to live. He’ll get here, along with Peter, Clint, and Bucky. You’ll see.”

Tony nods, giving him a rueful smile and attempts for his own optimism. “Barnes also knew what to do if things went wrong in certain areas of the ship. Maybe he helped.”

Rhodey smiles. “See. They’re fine.”

Tony looks back to the mess in front of him. He hopes he’s right.

After the ship came to a jarring landing, Natasha went quiet. For most, that’s almost normal. Natasha is always watching more than she’s talking. It makes her perfectly placed quips and one liners even funnier. But to Phil, the silence is a red flag. His agent is hurting. Though she’s not his agent anymore, hasn’t been in a long time, Natasha will always be a part of his original family. He won’t leave her to work through this alone.

He finds her digging through the back and sorting supplies, a notebook in her hand and a pencil in her teeth. He smiles a little. “How are we on supplies so far?”

She removes the pencil from her mouth, sliding it behind her ear as she sits and turns to him. “Tony was prepared. We’ll have enough food for quite a while. He had us each pack bags of extra equipment when he built this thing so they’re all back here in one piece. We’ll have clothes for a while if we wash them every few days.”

Coulson nods, listening and calculating. “The other ship had all of this too?”

Natasha nods once. “Tony always keeps the MRE’s stocked and had Clint take extra clothes for Steve and James when they went to retrieve them. He and Peter each took their own bag as well. Tony is always paranoid about planes and ships crashing. He always makes sure everyone is prepared. I think it’s to make Steve feel better.”

Coulson lets out a breath. He watches as she starts separating the MREs into piles. “Need any help?”

She pauses. “I’ve got it.”

He shrugs. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

Natasha blinks. He feels helpless, she realizes. There’s nothing else for him to do right now and thoughts of the other ship must be plaguing him like they are her. She scoots over. “In that case, have a seat.”

They both take their time, using the work as a way to quiet their minds and keep busy as Tony checks the ship over and Thor takes a perimeter fly around the ship to add to what he already knows of this planet. When they’re done, they join the rest in the front of the ship to wait and record diagnostics on the damage when Tony comes inside.

When Thor returns that night, everyone quiets over their MRE meals.

Thor leans against the wall, letting out a sigh. “They’re far away,” he finally starts. “There’s no sign of any disturbance within the immediate area other than pieces of our own ship.” He looks to Tony. “Would you like me to collect any pieces for you that I find?”

Tony nods. “That’d be a great help, buddy.”

“How far did you go?” Coulson asks curiously.

“As far as I could while still circling the ship before nightfall. I will try again tomorrow and do a larger sweep, but I believe they are much farther than we would like. This is a large planet, a bit bigger than Earth though it has much more land and less water, which will not hinder their journey.”

Natasha nods. “That’s good.”

Thor nods. “Aye. It is also lacking intelligent inhabitants. No one lives here only because they use this planet as a support. If something were to happen to their own, they would relocate here. For now, they want it to remain uninhabited in order to keep resources from being used.”

Coulson thinks this over. “No natives to bother them. This is all good news.”

Thor shrugs. “I have not yet found any creatures. It’s hard to say what could be in the trees. We must be careful for now. I don’t know of all the creatures that may live on lands different than the ones I have visited. ”

Rhodey snorts. “The suit stays in reaching distance then.”

Sam raises a hand. “And there’s no way for you to contact anyone out here?”

Thor nods. He sighs. “We had not established a connection with the two clans at war out there. It… “ he huffs, “We were supposed to be gaining allies. For now, my people are too far to establish any kind of reliable contact and those currently within our reach I fear we can’t trust. The risk to contact them while we are here without adequate weaponry would be foolish. We would be outnumbered. I would rather take our chances.” He looks around to the rest of the team. “I am sorry.”

Natasha shakes her head. “We agree. Besides, we’ll be able to get off of this planet on our own. The real issue is waiting for the rest of us to get here.”

“Which is also of my own doing,” Thor murmurs.

She gives him a sharp look. “No one blames you, Thor. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Tony nods. “But it did. So let’s stop wallowing in it and get to work people.” He heads towards the back of the ship. “Looks like I need to pull out the generator.”

Sam looks to Natasha. “He has a generator on here?”

Natasha shrugs.

Rhodey smiles a little. “Of course he does.”

Thor shakes off the guilt for now. Helping is the only way he’ll make up for it. “I’ll go see if he needs help getting it outside.”

It’s a big generator, a backup jump in case something happened to the ship’s own power source. It’s not much different from his power solution for the tower, though it is bigger. He’s been meaning to update this one to a newer, smaller version. As such, it takes Tony a half hour to disconnect it and grins at Thor when he calls him in to get it out. “It’s a little big.”

Thor chuckles. “You doubt me even after all these years? That’s cute.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a showoff.”

It’s stupidly easy for Thor to get the generator outside with the help of Tony in his armor and Tony gets to work hooking up lights and mounting them around where he’ll need to work. After grabbing his tool bag, he starts pulling off more plating from the ship with a crow bar from up on Thor’s shoulders to get to clean wires while Rhodey gets the lower ones. He sighs when Natasha materializes out of the shadows up on the wing and grins at them. “What?”

“Steve’s going to be jealous. He’s usually your designated ladder.”

Tony sighs again, grinning a little at the many memories that conjures up. He appreciates her future tense. Rhodey is right. He needs to keep positive.

Thor pats his leg from under him. “I’m sure Steve will understand. After all, I’m not going to-”

“Okay! Let’s not even put those thoughts into words, huh? As pretty as you are, I’ll keep my own mental images without switching Steve out for you.” He taps him on the head with his crowbar. “Thanks.”

Thor chuckles and Natasha smiles when he winks at her. They’re all doing their best to keep Tony from thinking about their circumstances.

Sam climbs up the tree next to the wing, letting out a strange sound as he almost falls backwards from his swing over. He walks up to sit next to Natasha. “I was going to ask if you guys could straighten up the floor in there, but it seems that you guys might like things lopsided.”

Tony snorts, looking at the way the ship is rested a little crooked. It’s letting him reach where he needs to from Thor’s shoulders. “Yeah, sorry bud. Get used to crooked hips.”

“Sounds great. You’ll pay for my physical therapy when we get home, right boss man?”

“Sure thing.” He yanks off another panel, throwing it to the ground. “Though in true Worker’s Comp fashion, I’ll make you fight for it every step of the way.”

“Figures.” Sam turns to Natasha. “You’ll be my lawyer, right?”

Tony points the bar at them. “No.”

Natasha tilts her head. “You have no say in the matter when it comes to whom my client may choose to represent them.”

“Oh God.”

Thor chuckles underneath him.

Tony taps his head lightly with the bar again. “Stay still.” He goes back to work. “Rhodey bear. How’s it looking?”

“I don’t know that much about the mechanics of these things, but a lot of it down here is looking pretty clean. Just a few pulled or severed wires. I think I’m to the edge of the damage. Do you want me to start assessing?”

Tony nods, looking around up top to see if he’s made it to the edge of the damage in his area. He sees bad wires coming out from under one more panel. “That’d be great. Yank out anything that looks dead. Pry out any destroyed parts. I’ll deal with the aftermath.” He gets that last panel off and looks everything over. Yeah. This area is worse. And it’s going to need new parts. He drops the crowbar to the ground. “Alright. I’m getting down, Mr. Mountain.”

Thor steadies himself, Tony moving his legs enough to press his hands to Thor’s shoulders and push up as he lifts his legs and swings them back before dropping to the ground.

Natasha raises her eyebrows. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Tony chuckles. “Not all of my balance is that good, believe me. That’s just a practiced move with Steve. Why get a ladder when you have a Super Sexy Super Soldier to climb?”

She rolls her eyes. She doesn't even know why she questions his priorities anymore.

Standing back, Tony finally looks over the entire extent of the damage on this side of the ship. “One side down, one to go.”

Rhodey groans. “Ah, shit. Forgot about the other side.” He huffs, throwing down his own crow bar. “I’m putting on the armor.”

Tony finds it in himself to smile.

Chapter Text

Calling themselves the Avengers and becoming the Avengers were two totally different things. They were called the Avengers immediately. The media caught on and ran with it, plastering the name across every newspaper and magazine. That was the easy part. Saying ‘I’m an Avenger’ is much easier than… well… being one. Being what it meant. Being a team.

It took weeks for the lot of them to move in. Bruce was first. Tony’s tower was the best place for him to keep out of the media storm that was bombarding them all. Tony may have bribed him with a lab, but it was easy to see Bruce’s shoulders relax as soon as he realized how much freedom he would have in the tower.

Fury swept in one day (the only way he could come into a room) and eyed Bruce’s comfortable lean in the couch Tony was sitting on the opposite end of and tilted his head with a quiet, “Hmmm.” The next morning, Tony had two traitors standing at his door with bags over their shoulders. One, a red headed, lying, CEO stealing traitor who Tony still held a grudge against. The other, a traitor against his will who… actually looked worse than he did after being freed from Loki’s control. Tony narrowed his eyes at them, but stepped aside to let them in. He had enough room after all. If he went in and made a few person-specific changes to the floors still being repaired, well, no one was around to see it.

Steve apparently wasn't convinced he would be all that welcome, but finally came a couple of weeks later after Natasha practically dragged him in by the ear.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to need our team leader, Steve.”

With a sheepish shrug at Tony, and a soft, “I didn’t want to impose. After the things I said to you,” Steve held out a hand. “Starting over?”

Narrowing his eyes again, Tony took it. He let a slow grin spread across his face as Steve’s shoulders started to fall away from his ears. When Steve returned it, Tony started believing that maybe this could work.

Thor was last, a few weeks later. He was unsure of his welcome as well, having felt responsible for his brother’s actions. It was astounding how such a large man could look like a golden retriever puppy as he was reassured that none of them could blame him for someone he couldn't control and was given his own floor in the tower.

Suddenly the Avengers were living together in Avengers tower. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, but as Steve looked over the group in the kitchen the first morning they were all together, he had tilted his head and thought… Huh. This could be something.

When Tony had given him a soft smile over the top of his coffee mug, he had thought… Huh. Maybe that could be something too.

They have to take frequent stops for Steve throughout the day, their leader doing his best but losing his fight against the pain in his body.

Peter looks at him worriedly as they stop again, setting his pack down before reaching out to help Clint and Bucky lower him to the ground. “Maybe we should take it slow for today. We’ve been going for a few hours now. We should let you rest up and try again tomorrow.”

Steve, still breathing heavily as he tries to get comfortable against a tree, shakes his head. “We should… keep moving. They’re waiting for us.”

Bucky’s worried eyes are on him too as he and Clint lower their own packs to the ground. He sets the one he’s carrying for Steve next to him so he can lean against it. He lets out his own breath of relief when Steve seems to start breathing easier. “Steve, you can barely breathe. You just crashed a plane. You should be dead. I don’t know how you didn’t get crushed in the landing.”

Clint crouches on the other side of Steve, hand reaching out to prod at his rib cage. He frowns deeply when Steve flinches with a hiss. “You’re healing slower because you’re dehydrated. I’m going to see if I can find some sort of water source.” He turns and disappears into the trees.

Bucky stares at Steve a minute before nodding once. “We’re done for the day. I’m going to get wood for tonight.”

Peter unzips Steve’s pack. “You should eat something.’

Steve sighs, head falling back against the tree. “Yeah. Probably.”

They’re quiet while they let their food heat itself, Peter having pulled out one for Bucky and Clint to have ready for when they get back. It’s a while before Peter speaks again. “Dad and the rest of the team are in a ship,” he murmurs. He meets Steve’s eyes. “They’re safe. We aren’t. You need to heal before we can keep traveling. What if something happens while you’re hurt?”

Steve nods, sighing in frustration, grimacing on the exhale. “I know.”

Peter stares at him. Finally, he murmurs, “I need you safe.”

Steve looks up to him.

Peter’s eyes shine. “I need you safe. Okay? I… People I can take. Taking down bad guys is what we do. Creatures rampaging New York, I can take. I know people there. So many people who can help when we need it. But we’re alone out here. And I need you because… I’m scared, Dad.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He reaches out, unable to keep from touching him anymore. “C’mere.”

Peter allows himself to be pulled into Steve’s side, carefully leaning in as Steve wraps his arm around his shoulders. “I don’t know what’s out there, I don’t know if Tony is okay or if you’ll be okay. I… everything is just so uncertain.”

Steve shushes him as he feels his breathing pick up. “Easy buddy. Easy.” It’s been a while since Peter has had an anxiety attack. The social worker that had helped them adopt Peter had said they were caused by stress. His uncertainty of where he belonged and who was safe to trust. They had gotten drastically less frequent after living with them and almost nonexistent after he became Spiderman. He didn’t feel so helpless anymore. But when things get really bad, it’s easy for him to fall back into one. “We’ll all be okay. You hear me? I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen. Okay?”

Peter nods.

Steve turns to kiss Peter’s temple. “We’ll get back to them. I promise.”

Another nod.

Bucky walks back into sight with a load of wood in one arm, and a load of wispy, dry plants for starting the fire in the other. He looks over to them and sighs. “Chins up, boys. We’ll be there in no time.”

Steve looks down at Peter with a small smile. “What he said.”

Bucky goes about starting a fire a few feet away from where they’re sitting. “Food’s staring to smell good.”

Peter smiles a little. “It’s probably done.”

“Good, I’m starving.” Clint appears from behind them, setting their canteens down before handing Steve his. “Drink up. I want it gone before we head to bed. The stream isn’t too far from here so I’ll have no problem getting out there to refill it. Things here seem to work much like earth.”

Steve gets a drink, nodding as he caps it. “It does. Though I wish we had Thor to tell us what’s safe to eat. Then we’d have no problem getting back to the ship without starving first.”

Clint chuckles. “Mister super healer over there is healthy enough to try anything and see if it’s poisonous.”

Bucky flips him the bird without looking over, stoking the now flickering fire.

Peter smiles. “Unless it’s bad enough to kill something larger than humans. Let’s not take that chance, huh?”

Clint winks at him, settling next to the heating food. He looks to the sky, the sun just at the top of the trees. “A little early for a fire, don’t you think? You’ll need to get a lot of wood to keep it through the night.”

Bucky shrugs, turning to sit with his back towards it. “I’m hoping it’ll repel any wildlife that might cause us trouble.”

Steve hums, finally getting comfortable enough to let his eyes fall closed. “That’s reasonable. It seems like there aren’t any other human-like forms here. I wonder what type of animals are out there.”

“I’ve been hearing small noises out there as we walk,” Clint chimes in. “Little animals. Equivalent to earth’s squirrels maybe. And possible bugs.”

Steve hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t open his eyes.

Peter reaches forward to grab one of the meals, opening it and making sure it’s done before nudging Steve. “Here. Eat this. Then you can sleep.”

Steve smirks as he opens his eyes and takes the food. “Yes, sir.”

They’re all quiet as they eat, a few strategic plans made by Bucky and Clint as they talk about the journey ahead. Steve is worryingly silent. Peter watches him, eyes critically assessing over his food. When Steve is almost done eating, box resting on his lap, his eyes keep falling closed more and more between bites.

Steve doesn’t mind not being included in the travel plans, even as the other two start making calculations on the data they gathered from the remains of their ship computer. The topographical scanner that Tony had worked so hard on has given them some valuable information. Their guesses on distance are quite a bit off, but he guesses they’d rather not know that. It’s nothing that can really mess up any plans they make. Except for time allowance. In which case he can monitor it himself.

Peter finally speaks up when Steve seems to have even more trouble keeping his eyes open. “You aren’t offering any commentary,” he murmurs.

Steve looks to him, smiling softly. “I trust them. I might be the leader of our crazy family, but that doesn’t mean I always have to lead. I have no doubt that they will do anything that needs doing. I may have memorized where the other ship is, but I don’t know the exact data about the land they seem to have been able to collect from our own ship. I didn’t think that much of it would have survived.”

“Bucky was able to hook up his phone to get a read and a partial map. Pieces of land features. It only helps with direction. It doesn’t help with distance at all. Too many blanks. It didn’t have much time to scan the planet in detail before we crashed. Did you see how far they were?” His stomach sinks when Steve looks away.

“Far. But we’ll get there in due time.”

Peter doesn’t press it. Doesn’t think he wants to know. The pieces of map Bucky was able to download will get them going the right direction. That’s all they need. It doesn’t matter how long it takes to get there, as long as the do actually get there.

Noticing Steve isn’t totally paying attention to their planning, Clint and Bucky share a look before deciding to get more serious about traveling when Steve isn’t so out of it. Clint takes all of the garbage and stands. “I’m going to send this down river in case it can attract unwanted company. I hate littering, but I don’t think we have many other options here.”

Bucky chuckles. “I’m sure our extenuating circumstances can speak for us. And it’s not like we’ll be killing this planet. We won’t be here long enough to do any lasting damage.” He turns to the fire, giving it a little boost in preparation for the night that’s slowly getting darker.

When Clint returns, he takes a seat next to Steve. He smiles when Steve opens his eyes without prompt, having heard the stealthy archer easily with his enhanced hearing. “I scouted the area. There’s not much distance between here and the stream that’s a bit back behind you and your tree buddy there. I can monitor that area easily. I think, though, I’ll monitor in the trees during my shift. I like that vantage point better. But I won’t ever be far. And I’ll be watching. Feel free to get my attention if you need anything. Okay?”

Steve nods. “You do what you need to.”

Clint nods once. Then turns to Bucky and Peter. “I’ll be nearby.” He disappears into the trees.

Peter lays out a bedroll before turning to Steve. “Do you think you’ll be able to lie down?”

Steve sighs, shifting. When he finds it’s harder to breathe when he moves away from the tree, he freezes. “Maybe later. I’m actually pretty good here.”

Peter frowns. “You sure?”

Steve grins. “I’ve ended up sleeping sitting up so many times on the couch in Tony’s lab. It’s a little comforting.”

Peter rolls his eyes, laying down and closing his eyes. He might as well keep up on sleep while everything is going smoothly. “Whatever you say.” From his position between Steve and the fire with Bucky keeping watch towards his feet and Clint somewhere in the trees, he feels secure enough to fall asleep quickly.

Steve lets his eyes fall closed again, gritting his teeth against the pain as he moves to be more supported by the tree. He does his best. Really, he does. But as the minutes go by, it seems to be getting worse. After an hour, he can’t put off the feeling that it’s not going to go away without some help. And if he wants help, he should do it with the last bit of light in the sky.

“Bucky.”

Bucky hadn’t been able to sleep, still uneasy in their strange habitat without the security he felt at Clint’s back the night before. He turns to Steve, eyes worried at how breathless he sounds. “What’s up, punk?”

Steve’s eyes are trying to convey something Bucky can’t quite read. They’re soft. Imploring. “Something’s wrong.”

Bucky frowns. “What do you mean?”

Steve tries to smile but it falls flat. “I’m not… breathing any easier.”

Bucky eyes Peter where he’s sleeping a few feet away, making a hand motion to get Clint’s attention instead of calling out. He knows the archer is always watching. He moves over next to Steve, eyes scanning him over. “What’s wrong?”

Steve waits until Clint crouches next to him and meets his eyes. “Something moved before it could heal right.” He scoots down to lean farther back against the tree behind him. It pushes his rib cage up and allows him to get a better breath in.

Clint frowns, reaching out to prod at Steve’s ribs, more extensively than earlier. His fingers sink in where they shouldn’t, a surprised, “Shit!” hissing out. He looks up to Steve. “Damnit. Damnit, Steve I’m sorry. I thought I had them all set.”

Steve shakes his head, gritting his teeth from the sharp spark of pain that had spiked when Clint touched him. “I probably moved it when I woke up…” he takes another sharp breath, “while you and Peter were scavenging up our supplies. It’s probably my fault.”

“I should have wrapped it tighter. Shit, I’m sorry.”

Bucky looks between the two as Steve shakes his head to dismiss the apology. “How bad?”

Clint sighs, trying to feel around better. “A rib is healing wrong. It’s curving up from what I can feel. That explains his breathing problem. It’s probably pressing into his lung and restricting expansion. His fast healing is working against him. If he isn’t careful about his breaths…” He takes a steadying breath. “Worst case scenario? Pierced lung. Best case?” He shrugs in frustration. “He slowly suffocates himself into unconsciousness over and over again by not getting enough oxygen into his body for the movement he does to travel.”

Bucky curses lowly, hand coming up to run through his hair. “What do we do? We can’t-”

“You re-set it,” Steve grits out. He makes eye contact with Bucky. “You re-break it and he… re-sets it.”

Clint looks to Bucky. “How accurate can you throw a punch?”

Bucky looks back and forth between the two. “What? No! Fuck! No, I can’t-”

“I can’t travel like… this,” Steve gets out between breaths. He cranks the puppy eyes full blast. He knows they work on Bucky just like they do on Tony. “I can’t protect Peter like this. I need… your help, Buck.”

Peter approaches the group, awake from Bucky’s outburst. He crouches with the rest of them between Bucky and Clint. “Help with what? What’s wrong?”

Steve sighs, head falling back against the tree. “Damn it.”

Peter looks to Clint, eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“We wouldn’t be able to keep it from him anyway,” Clint mutters, hands prodding again. He winces when Steve grunts in pain. “It’s bad. It’s set itself enough that if you move wrong, it'll definitely cause damage. There’s no question about it anymore. I need to cut you open.”

“Shit,” Bucky hisses. “We can’t-”

“You can,” Steve grunts out, leaning to lie on his back with Clint’s help. It’s getting harder to breathe the longer they wait, his oxygen levels slowly getting harder to keep up. Having a stronger body than most humans is probably what had him going so strong up until now.

Peter stares at them all, feeling more than a little sick. “You need to what?”

Steve reaches out and snags his hand. “Rib moved. They’re… going to have to fix it.”

Clint gets out their med kit, sifting through it for everything he needs. He threads a needle, lays out some gauze, and moves to hold a knife over the fire. He meets Bucky’s eyes. “I need your help, Barnes. We don’t have any way to give blood back and Steve can not wake up during this so this will have to be record-setting quick. You with me?”

Bucky has gone slightly pale. Patching Steve up is one thing. But hurting him like this…

Steve nudges his knee with his elbow. “Hey. Buck. It’s okay. I need this.” The shortening of his sentences to match his breathing doesn’t escape anyone’s notice.

Bucky clenches his jaw, nods, and looks back to Clint. “You can do this?”

Clint meets his eyes and gives him a single nod in return. “Broken ribs is a usual occurrence in our line of work, as I’m sure you know. I’m not a doctor, but I had to attempt something like this once before. Rib pressing into lung just like this. We had gone on too long and had no extraction. I lost him, but only because he was normal. He couldn’t withstand the blood loss. Not like Steve. It’ll work with him. I promise.”

Bucky stares into his eyes. Clint has bright, expressive eyes when he’s not busy being Hawkeye. They drew Bucky out of his self-imposed silence a lot as he was recovering from what Hydra made him. Clint would provoke him into asking questions a lot. Responding during conversations just to see what would come out of the archer’s mouth next. He was a puzzle. Someone Bucky couldn’t get a read on for weeks until he learned that Barton, who soon became Clint, liked to feign idiocy.

It was an art form. Like a killdeer feigning a broken wing. Clint was smart. Deceptively so. But he kept trotting around with his ‘broken’ wing (i.e. his stupid jokes, dumb answers, confused head tilts) leading conversations away from the nest of eggs (i.e. the important things like information or, god forbid, true feelings). He didn’t do it as often with the team as he did with the rest of the world, though he was still working towards that when Bucky was added to the mix. It was quite a show. It had lead many a villain astray, thinking that they were targeting the least impressive member of the team while Clint called back plays over the coms that aimed for weaknesses he’d spotted and ultimately lead to weakening, if not defeating, their opponent.

The hilarious thing is, that it’s the same exact Clint that stumbles through the kitchen in the mornings and almost cries if the coffee pot is empty, almost falls on his face because Phil was walking by and he forgot that he was heading towards the stairs, and likes to ‘keep his skills sharp’ by shooting the team with nerf guns at any and all opportunities. According to Phil, that has never been something he’d been able to train out of him. If they’re all honest? He wouldn’t be Clint if he didn’t do those things. And though Clint can be a disaster at times, he buckles down to a fault when he needs to. They all know it.

Clint has never lied to Bucky. Not even to soften a blow of the truth. Bucky also knows without a doubt that Clint cares for Steve as much as he can care for anyone other than Natasha and Phil. Clint doesn’t accept just anyone into the true vastness of his mind, and he’s given Steve more insight to his secret knowledge than anyone other than Phil. Natasha has always clawed out his truths whether he likes it or not. Steve has his respect and loyalty. He’s the only person to give him commands that he’s never questioned other than, of course, Natasha and Phil.

Bucky sighs. If Clint says this is the only way? It’s probably the only way. “Run me through it.”

Clint does, moving back over when he’s satisfied with disinfecting the knife. “I was kidding about punching it. I’ll just need your strong metal fingers to break it once we have him opened up. It’ll be safer that way. It shouldn’t take more than a well-placed flick since it hasn’t had time to fully set yet.”

Steve looks to Peter as they talk, distracting him from their conversation when he sees him start to go pale. “You can walk away if you want.”

Peter shakes his head. Grips Steve’s hand tighter. He blinks away the wetness in his eyes. “I’ll keep up with your pulse for Clint.” He doesn’t have a watch to match his pulse to, having broken it during the crash, but he’ll be able to tell if something changes. He presses his fingers to the flutter in Steve’s wrist. Starts counting.

Clint finishes setting up as Steve turns back to him. “Alright. Ready?” He unwraps Steve’s arm before carefully getting his shirts folded up to above his ribs. He takes a pen and marks a dotted line for where he plans to cut. Then he looks up to meet Steve’s eyes. He grins a little. “Time for your anesthesia.”

Steve huffs a single laugh. He tilts his head up. “Make it good, Buck.”

The Winter Soldier knows how to throw a crippling punch.

Chapter Text

Living together didn’t make them a team. It made them easier to manage by Fury. It made it easier to assemble when things went wrong. It even made it easier to fight off enemies when they knew exactly where to find the Avengers. None of the attackers ever expected the level of security and prowess that was Tony and Jarvis as a team. No, what made them a team were those first few quiet months in the tower as they learned how to move about each other.

Each had their own landmines, soft spots that raised hackles and flared tempers. It was a learning curve, figuring out what they could talk to each other about. They managed. The one person who never seemed to be settling in was Clint. He kept odd hours, avoided most of them when at all possible, and generally didn't seem like he wanted to be there.

Tony was convinced he was forced there by Natasha and Fury. When she denies it, he frowns. “He knows he can leave, right?”

Natasha shakes her head, eyes on the screen Tony had pulled up in front of him to view the security feed from the range. Clint was on his second set of arrows, the rhythmic motions he could do in his sleep jerky and sharp to her accustomed eyes. “He wouldn't want to go back. Though they may say they know it’s not his fault, no one trusts him like they used to. And…” she shrugs at Tony, “The one person who could fix that is dead.”

Tony frowns with the reminder of Coulson. He respected Coulson. He never once saw him lose his cool or show any amount of weakness. He was convinced the man was a robot Fury personally built to take care of things he didn’t want to. Like Tony. He could tell that there was something Natasha wasn’t saying. “You worked with him.”

A small nod. Tony was a part of her new team now. There were some things he was allowed to know. “Strike team Delta. Clint, Coulson, and I. We were the best. Clint was our eyes. I was the infiltrator. Together, we could get into any mess they needed us to. Coulson was the one who made sure to pull us out. He was our only exit strategy. Fury gave us the suicide runs and trusted Coulson to pull us out or have a plan. Most of those plans were safe houses he would meet us at, trusting us to get there just as we trusted him to get us home afterwards.”

Tony nods, for once without words. He suddenly felt as if his own grief was insignificant compared to that of the two SHIELD agents.

“Clint made a different call on the op where he was supposed to kill me, but it was Coulson who trusted him with it.” She smiles now. A small quirk of her lips. “He didn’t even yell at Clint when he walked into the safe house and saw me there. Just sighed, took off his jacket, and sat down on the other side of the table to talk.”

Tony chuckles. “That sounds like him.”

“I owe him my life just as much as I owe Clint. But Clint…” She looks back to the feed, eyes softening again when she sees Clint finally lower his arms, standing still and silent in the middle of the large room. She thinks she sees tiny drops of red dripping from his drawing fingers. He hadn’t put on any of his equipment. “How would you feel if the only person who ever showed you that you were worth something was killed by the hands of the man you were helping attack?”

Tony meets her eyes. “He couldn’t have fought it.”

She shrugs. “Maybe. But would that one excuse help you sleep at night?”

Tony notices things after that. Notices Clint’s decline. He doesn’t lose an ounce of muscle at first, the hard workouts he does almost nightly keeping that up. But the muscles themselves become clearer. His cheek bones a bit more pronounced. He sees Clint eat, but it’s never more than what could be used to stop the ache of hunger and eventually that does take a toll on the man’s muscle mass. Though he’s rarely talked to the Clint, something draws Tony to him. He sees something in him that could be familiar. He knows what it’s like to be the reason another man dies.

The roof of the tower is where it happens. He’s waiting for Jarvis to run some stats and for multiple projects to run through simulations when he feels the need for fresh air. It’s been a few days. The roof is open with only a slight ledge, above the city lights enough to almost see the stars on clear nights. He’s sitting smack in the center of it when the door opens behind him.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know-”

Tony looks over his shoulder with what he hopes is a friendly smile. He’s out of practice at this. “Legolas. Hey, don’t mind me. Come on up.”

There’s a few seconds of indecision before Clint moves up the last couple stairs and lets the door fall closed behind him. He moves to sit on the ledge, pulling his legs up to cross them as he turns to look over the city. “Did Jarvis tell you I come up here?”

Tony’s head tilts. “Is there a reason Jarvis should tell me that?”

Clint doesn’t answer.

“You aren’t suicidal.” It’s not a question. Tony knows what suicidal looks like. His own life was close enough to death at one point that he is intimately acquainted with what suicidal looks like. Clint? He’s punishing himself by staying alive. Tony moves over to sit next to him on the ledge. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again. “I’m not going to tell you that it’s okay. That it wasn’t your fault and that he wouldn’t blame you. None of that makes it better. Makes it any more or less true.”

Clint’s jaw clenches.

“I know a thing or two about being the reason people die. So… if you ever want to talk? Just talk. I don’t even have to talk back if you don’t want me to. But you’re in my house now. And I don’t like it when people are sad while they’re in my house. It’s unnatural.”

Clint gives him a look that could almost be considered amused.

Tony pats him on the back, standing to head back down to the lab. “For what it’s worth, Agent Agent was a big boy. He made his own stupidass decisions. He would be very disappointed if he found out you were taking credit for his genius ideas.”

Clint doesn’t answer, but his silence doesn’t feel angry or hostile.

“We’re not going to starve!”

Thor chuckles. “I doubt we would have starved anyway. There is plenty of food on the ship. But this is a good addition to our other resources. They are probably better for our bodies than the instant food.”

Sam shrugs. “Have you seen how much everyone eats? Including you, big guy.”

Thor chuckles. “Fair point.” He pulls more of the melon-like fruit from the trees and tosses it into Sam’s bucket.

“What are these, anyway?”

Thor shrugs. “They have many names depending on which species you ask. I believe you were correct. Melon is an accurate description.” He tosses one to Rhodey when he comes around the trees, grinning when he catches it though he had no warning. “Melon?”

Rhodey chuckles, tossing it up once and studying it. “Huh. It’ll be nice to have healthy food.” He jerks his head back towards the ship. “C’mon. We’re having a team meeting.” He takes one side of Sam’s bucket to make carrying the melons back to camp a bit less awkward. Thor, the showoff, carries his own back with ease.

Tony is unwilling to be pulled away from the work he’s doing on the ship, so the team meeting ends up happening around his work station he’s set up. Natasha and Sam sit along the wing again as Coulson leans back against it with his shoulder resting against Natasha’s thigh. Thor leans against the side of the ship near the edge of the damage and Tony’s setup. Rhodey sits on the ground next to Tony, holding and handing things when needed.

“We already know that Agent is going to veto any traveling. Why are we having a meeting?” Tony has lost a bit of his snark since the landing. The light jab at Coulson, the usual use of ‘Agent’ instead of his name, is almost a relief.

“It’s always good to make sure everyone is on the same page,” Natasha chides gently. She nudges Phil’s shoulder with her knee.

Phil nods. “I will stand against traveling,” he confirms. “I just wanted to get status updates from everyone.” He shrugs almost sheepishly. “Though I am technically your ‘handler’ on paper, I don’t usually do much handling anymore. But this… I want to make sure my tea-… my family is okay.” He meets Tony’s eyes when they find his, the genius finally pausing in his work.

The snide remark that was on Tony’s lips, which honestly was nothing more than childish petulance and the need to strike out at someone in this frustrating nightmare, fizzles out. Phil doesn’t look like himself. His lean against Natasha is out of character for being somewhere other than the tower.

It took Phil a long time to relax around them all. To realize that he doesn’t have to be their handler all the time and still receive the respect he needed to command on a mission. Inside the tower, he was just Phil. Outside of the tower he always transformed back into Agent Coulson. The most under-estimated member of the team. Besides Clint, anyway. He liked it that way. He could protect his team under the radar and keep them informed over their coms. Everyone liked it when Coulson’s calm, confident voice was in their ear on missions.

But this Phil, standing in front of them now, was just Phil. T-shirt and jeans Phil. Could be caught sleeping on the couch in the common room with Clint on his chest, Phil. Facial hair Phil. Shadows under his eyes Phil. Tired Phil. The past two days have been rough on him too. And Clint… If they were all honest with themselves, Clint was the most vulnerable person on that ship. No super soldier serum. No arachnid enhancements. He was human. An extremely impressive human who probably has an ability equal to those with the x-gene… but human. Phil has as much reason as Natasha and Tony to be falling apart.

Tony gives him a nod. Turns back to his work. “I’ve got to make some of my tools before I can start fixing.” He starts the sitrep process himself. It’ll make Phil feel better if he has a bit of a handle on where each of them stand. “I’m…” he sighs for the second time over the realization of what he’s going to do to the armor. “I’m going to be taking apart the armor. It has a lot of what I’ll need.” He freezes again, looking over to Rhodey. “I’ll try to hold out on yours as long as possible, but…”

Rhodey shrugs. “Whatever you need, Tones.”

Tony looks over to Thor. “You’ll be our big gun after that, bud.”

Thor nods. “You know I would protect us all until my dying day.”

Sam taps the wing with his knuckles to get their attention. “You know we have weapons too, right? Nat and I aren’t damsels in distress.”

Tony finds it in himself to snort. “You know I respect your contribution to our team, Honeybun. But lets not kid ourselves into thinking we have what it takes to wield the power of Thor.”

Rhodey frowns. “Honeybun?”

Tony turns to grin at him. “Don’t worry, you’re still my only Platypus.”

Rhodey sighs, looking to Sam. “Do you want ‘Platypus’? I think I might would rather have ‘Honeybun’. I can’t take him seriously when he says ‘Platypus’.”

Tony lets out an indignant sound. “You can’t trade pet names. That’s not how it works.”

It’s Natasha’s turn to rap her knuckles on the wing. She’s leaning to her left now, arm over Phil’s shoulders. “Focus, boys.”

“We have found something akin to melons from your planet,” Thor adds. “We will not run out of food no matter how long we are here. Even if we run out of the rations Tony has provided on the ship.”

Sam nods from next to Natasha. “I haven’t tasted them yet, but Thor assures me that they’re good.”

Rhodey trades tools with Tony before turning back to the group. “Coulson and I were talking about stocking wood for fire. In case we have to ward off anything dangerous. Since Thor doesn’t know what could be living on this planet, it would be stupid to not assume that there could be something stronger than us.”

Natasha nods. “Agreed.”

“Not to mention our lack of knowledge about the weather on this planet. Who knows how drastically it could change,” Coulson adds.

“It was a bit chilly on the ship last night.” Natasha frowns. “If it actually gets cold we’ll have to find a way to heat the inside.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it.” Coulson looks back to Tony. “Is there anything you need from us?”

Tony shakes his head, pausing in his work again. “Not right now.” He tries for a smile. “When I finally get things up to par, we’ll start going through tests.”

Sam raises his hand. “I volunteer for that job. I haven’t been much help so far. I know my ins and outs of cockpits so I’ll be able to help there.”

Tony nods. “Alright. Now everybody leave me alone.” He turns back to the mess in front of him. “I have shit to do.”

Surprisingly? They do.

The work is tedious and boring. It’s going to take days getting this side of the ship stripped down to the bare bones of working parts. There’s so much dead on the surface. His thoughts stray to Clint again, feeling guilty for the lack of thought he had towards his friend with the overwhelming worry he had for Steve and Peter. The slightest shine in Clint’s eyes when Peter was first handed over to him with the offhand comment of “staying with Uncle Clint tonight, buddy” from Tony is a precious memory. He never called Clint out on it, but he knows Clint had only then realized how much he had come to be part of Tony’s family.

He had become Tony’s roof buddy. They were constantly up at the highest point of the tower, looking down on the world they both never really felt at home in. Not anymore. Clint was quiet a lot at first. Before Phil came back. After, it was like a switch had been flipped and the light was back in his eyes. He and Tony bonded even more after that, snark and jokes flying through the air with more love underneath than should be audible with the crass words.

Tony realizes he wishes Clint were here too. He’d give anything to have Clint by his side right now both reassuring and annoying with his interruptions while he works. It… it would make things a lot easier to handle.

“I'm worried about them too.”

Tony startles, looking behind him to the wing where Sam is still… well he’s laying on the wing now. Looking up at the darkening sky. Tony chuckles. “Steve and Barnes left you behind again. Feeling sore, darling?”

Sam huffs, but lets his head roll over to grin at him. “With a pretty thing like you here? Nah. They’ll be jealous when they get back and I have you wrapped around my finger.” He winks.

Tony snorts. “Steve maybe. Barnes? You’re gonna have to wrap Natasha. I don’t envy you there.”

A soft chuckle. “As if I’d try.” He’s quiet for a few minutes. Listening to Tony work. “Clint asked if I wanted to come with him to get them. I should have said yes.”

“You’d be on that crashing ship then with nothing to do but watch Steve land it.” Tony pauses in his work again, turning to him. His voice is rough. “You’d just be another on the list of people we’re worried about.”

Sam shrugs, letting that go. “Barnes and I had plans this weekend. We were going to a game. I bet he’s mad we’re gonna miss it.”

Tony almost smiles. “I’ll buy you guys season passes when we get back.”

Sam looks to him again with a wide grin. “I’ll drop that worker’s comp. suit if you do.”

“Done. Don’t say I never give you anything.”

Sam sighs. “I just miss my best friend. You stole Steve, so I had to settle for Barnes. I never gave you shit for that. You should be grateful.”

“Oh and what a hardship. Best friends with the Winter Soldier. Don’t think I don’t know what you guys get up to.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm. New York is grateful for your contribution. I’ve never seen the streets so drug free. Do you two keep a tally over how many drug lords you send to the hospital?”

“Natasha does it for us.”

“Of course she does. Though I’m sure the whole thing was Barnes’ idea. A little undercover night action when he needs to burn off some steam.”

Sam chuckles again. “Yeah. We haven’t been out in a while. I miss that too.”

“You miss seeing your man-crush beat people up. Call it what it is, Wilson.” Tony turns back to his work with a snort when Sam looks over to him with a glare.

Sam is proud enough that he almost got Tony to laugh that he lets it go.

Chapter Text

“How can you trust me?”

Steve blinks, looking up in surprise when he realizes his model has finally noticed he was there. Well… this was who they called Hawkeye after all. He probably knew Steve was there as soon as he stepped into the room. Steve had been fully intending to put Tony’s gym through its paces, challenging everything Tony said would take his strength. But the sight of Clint going through his archery exercises caught his eye. He had sat down with his sketchpad in his hand and had half of a sketch started before he realized he was doing it. With a shrug, he had kept going.

Steve blinks again before mentally shaking himself back into the moment. “Should I not trust you?”

Clint narrows his eyes at him. “Wouldn’t have taken you for the type to play dumb.”

Steve shrugs. “It was a genuine question.”

Clint seems to study him before seeing that it’s the truth. Now it’s his turn to blink. “Really? You really don’t see a reason to distrust me?”

Steve shrugs again. “Natasha said you were back to normal. Normal seemed to be someone she trusted. If Natasha trusts you, far be it from me to not do the same. She doesn’t seem to trust anyone.” He goes back to sketching, not sure what to do with Clint’s heavy gaze on him. His pencil shades the curve to a bicep of one of the many figures on his page, all in various positions of drawing and releasing an arrow. “I’m not blind. I can see you’re a dangerous man, Clint.”

Clint jerks just the tiniest bit in surprise at the blunt statement.

Steve looks up with a wry grin. “No one else could have made the shots I just watched you make.” Tony had learned on the first day that he had to make the targets more challenging for Clint in order to keep him busy. Steve turns the sketchbook, finally letting Clint see.

All of the drawn figures have enough detail for Clint to recognize himself. Each one has a different aspect highlighted with more emphatic detail. Strong arms, straight back, capable hands. They’re all made of strong lines that speak of movement and force. They’re… gorgeous. Clint finds himself looking them over in wonder. He understands. This is how Steve sees him right now. Today, in this room, right this minute. None of them show a bit of malice.

“What you’ll notice,” Steve continues, “is that though this may look like a dangerous man, one that could take down anyone who poses a threat, he practices for precision. Precision means safety. Means I can trust that… this man? He won’t miss if I tell him to shoot something.” He puts the sketch down, meeting and holding Clint’s gaze when he looks back up. “Loki saw the same thing. But he took the heart out of the body and used the body to do his bidding.”

Clint winces, looking away. “He said...” his breathing hitches and he hates himself for such an obvious sign of weakness, “He said I had heart.”

Steve nods. “And he had to take it away if he was going to control you. But even without your heart, not a single extra person died that didn't need to. The ultimate proof that none of this was your own doing, is that no one died that he didn’t tell you to take care of. This dangerous man?” He taps on the sketch that lies on the bench. “He could have been so much more capable of killing than we saw. I was witness to that during the fight against the Chitauri. I couldn't even count how many of them fell because of you. That’s a far cry from the small number of victims on Fury’s list.”

Clint almost seems to be trembling as he moves over to his bow case and puts it away after giving it a quick clean with reverent fingers. When he’s finally done, he looks back to Steve who is still sitting patiently, watching him. “Thank you.”

It’s a blanket. A coverall. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for letting me stay here. Thank you for giving me something to think about. Thank you for reassuring me. Thank you for giving me a different way to view myself. Thank you for allowing me to be a member of this team.

Steve gives him a smile. He stands, sliding his sketchbook back into his bag and moving closer to hold out his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Clint Barton.”

Clint’s hands shake as he washes them in the stream. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath as he holds still for a few seconds. Breathes. When his eyes open again, he stares down at his bloody hands as they rest just under the surface of the water. Steve’s blood. He shudders. He wasn’t lying when he said he knew what he was doing. That doesn’t mean that it was easy.

Holding Steve’s life in his hands was… it was damn terrifying. Steve had been the first one on the team besides Natasha to trust him. Steve gave Clint his place on the field with nothing more than Clint’s promise that he could be ready to go when they were. And after, there were no wary looks or suspicious glances. Steve had taken him into the team with open arms.

Over the years, Clint had come to see Steve as the older brother he’d always wanted. Sometimes the best family isn’t blood related. Steve looked out for him as much as he trusted him. He cared about Clint’s happiness. His self-worth. He had been there for him when the weight of Phil’s death was pilling up to an unbearable weight and never said a word about any tears or shouts of anger. And after, when Phil was back, Steve never stopped asking about them. Genuinely checking in to make sure things were going well.

He trained with Clint and relayed pointers about his equipment back to Tony. He matched Clint’s deadpan joking when off mission and berated him gently for it during them. He never even questioned leaving Peter with him to watch when needed and smiled when Tony called him “Uncle Clint” before starting to do the same. He never acknowledged Clint’s weak hearing as a liability or a flaw to worry about, using it as an excuse to make up silent signals as a strength for the whole team instead.

Splashing water on his face, Clint scrubs his hands down it afterwards and shakes off the excess. Steve is going to be fine. Because Clint made sure he was going to be fine. He had done it. Cut Steve open, put him back together, and sewed him back up. He had made Peter go pale, had made Barnes go stiff and silent, but he had done what was needed to save his leader. His friend.

He feels himself settle. He needs to be settled before going back to Peter and Barnes. It’s easy to see the both of them are just as shaken for different reasons. It wouldn’t do to add to their anxiety. He rolls his shoulders, standing again and heading back towards camp. He’ll freak out when he gets back to Phil.

It’s dark now, the faint glow of the fire through the trees the only thing to lead him back to the others though he would have made it back without. “You okay?” Clint sits next to Peter when he gets back, looking Steve over.

Peter nods once. He lets out a shuddering breath. “It was just a little close.”

Clint nods. “I knew he’d be able to pull through, though.”

Peter rubs his thumb over Steve’s wrist, still unwilling to let go of the reassuring feeling of his pulse under his fingers.

It had gotten scary towards the end, Steve’s pulse slowing to a worrying speed and quickly fading as Clint was trying to finish stabilizing his rib. Wire would have been better, but all they had was thread for stitches. Which was just as well. It was the dissolving thread. Steve healed so fast, putting wires into his body almost seems like overkill. At least this way the foreign object would dispel itself.

Clint used a complicated weave that held the two pieces together and would do so as long as they kept Steve horizontal for the next twenty four hours or so while it started to heal. Steve had started shifting to wake up before making a sharp sound of pain just as Clint had started stitching him up. He’d had to pause while Bucky knocked him out again, the sheer length of the incision Clint had to make to move his rib around too long to let Steve be awake through. If his heartbeat elevated, his blood flow increased. They needed to keep him out and calm.

No ordinary human would have survived. Peter knows that. Can tell by the pale color in Steve’s cheeks that his father lost more blood than is safe. He also knows that Steve’s body will go into overdrive to fix itself, accounting for how hot he feels right now. He still worries. The fever lasting too long isn’t good either.

Clint hums to himself. “In the morning we should try to get him to eat two meals. He’ll need to help his body replace the blood he lost.” He grabs their water bottles. He had been too desperate to get the blood off his hands earlier to think of anything else. “He’ll need lots of water too. I’ll go fill these again.”

Peter sits with Steve a bit longer before turning to see Bucky with his back to them, still sitting in front of the fire like a statue. With one last light press to Steve’s pulse to reassure himself, Peter lets go and moves to comfort his uncle. “Bucky.” He sits close, pressing his shoulder into Bucky’s.

Bucky takes a shuddering breath. “Hey.”

“He’s alright.”

Bucky nods once.

Peter stays quiet. Waits for him to start talking himself.

Eventually, he does. It’s quiet. “It’s different, you know? In hospitals, the worrying is set on one thing. ‘Are they okay?’ Out here… Clint and I were it. There was no one else to help if things went wrong. We don’t have the equipment for a blood transfusion. The worry was… overwhelming.”

Peter rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder. “I get it.”

Bucky chuckles. “I had a million possibilities running through my head. A million worries on if I was keeping out of Clint’s way as he worked and if I was causing more damage. If Clint knew what he was doing. If it would work. I’m glad I’m not a doctor. It’s stressful.”

Peter smiles a little. “You did a fine job.” He looks down when he sees Bucky’s hands move.

There’s still a little blood in the crevices of his metal hand. Steve’s blood. Bucky has broken a lot of bones in many different bodies in his life, but feeling the snap of that single rib will sit with him forever. It takes just a bit more force to break Steve’s bones than it would for normal people, but the ease at which he was able to… Feeling how breakable Steve is… It was unsettling. “We know he can bleed an excessive amount without dying. But this… he doesn’t get any help to recover.”

“That’s why Clint went to get more water and we’ll make sure he eats two of the MREs. It’ll help his body get back on track.”

“He’ll need more calories than that. Take one of mine to put in his stash for him to eat two the next time too. Don’t let him know. Let him think it’s one of his.”

Peter lifts his head from his uncle’s shoulder and sits back. You sure?”

Bucky nods, turning to him with a crooked grin. “Punk needs to eat. I don’t want him arguing. He’ll want to keep moving so he’ll pack in the calories to get his body going without stopping to question if we’d sneak one of ours in with his.”

Peter nods. “True. But no matter how much of a hurry he’s in, he’s not getting up until tomorrow night at the earliest. And no traveling until the day after.”

Bucky chuckles. “You read my mind, kid. Don’t worry. He’s come back from worse.”

Peter shudders. “I know. I don’t think it will ever get easier, though.”

“No. No, it doesn’t.” Bucky looks over to his friend’s pale form. “But each time hope is a little stronger. When someone bounces back so often, it gets easier to believe that they’’ll be able to do it again.”

It took longer than any of them predicted for Steve to wake up. During the last hours, all of them were worried that something went wrong. That the blood loss did affect him greater than expected. But he did finally wake, just as early morning light started to rise in the sky. Lifted his head enough to reassure them all that he was lucid and recovering before drinking, eating a single meal, and falling back to sleep. Peter finally gets a few hours of sleep next to him.

It isn’t until hours after that, that Steve wakes up long enough to get two more MREs down, slow and steady with the struggle of not being able to move more than his head. He only dished out a little bit of grumbling before he let Peter keep feeding him. The worse part came after when Bucky had to help him relieve himself. Decon showers aside, they all did their best to keep some semblance of privacy in a family that was all too familiar with how thin their paper walls were. All heads were turned, but it was still awkward.

“How long have I been out?” His voice is rough. He clears it, gratefully taking the water Clint hands him.

Bucky’s head tilts. Looks to Clint. “Almost twenty-four hours?”

Clint nods. “About twenty. It’ll start getting dark again soon.”

Steve groans.

Peter rests his hand gently on Steve’s forearm. “All the time spent here is just more time we’re keeping you from hurting. Not a second of it is wasted.”

Steve slides his arm back to take Peter’s hand in his. “I know. I do. I just…”

Clint has always been smarter than he acts. “Steve. How far are we?”

Steve’s eyes fall closed again. He doesn’t sigh, only because it would have hurt. “Far.”

“That’s not an answer.” Clint’s voice isn’t angry. It’s resigned. He already knows that he isn’t going to like it.

It takes him a few minutes. No one presses. When Steve finally opens his eyes again, they lock straight onto Clint’s. “From the readings that were compiling as we landed, this piece of land we crashed on is about the size of Asia. And we’re…“ he breaks eye contact, “we’re almost on the opposite end as the rest.”

Bucky lets out a sigh of his own. Steve is almost jealous. “So we’re talking… what? Weeks? I already know it’s going to take a while.”

“I’ve been trying to decide on a close estimate. I think I’m finally settling on… eight. Seven at the best.”

Clint lets out a low string of curses.

“Yeah.” Steve tries to smile. “But we’ll get there. That’s all that matters. And we know they won’t leave without us.”

Bucky nods. “They’ll come look for us if we take too long and they get the ship fixed. I only hope they give us that much time to get back. I don’t know how badly their ship was damaged but if they finish too soon, we might be arriving to an empty site.”

Clint hums in thought at that. “Phil won’t let them do that without leaving someone behind in case we get there. He’s always been one for staying in place until there was word on where and when to move.”

Peter hums now. “But that all won’t matter if Dad can’t fix the ship.” He blinks at the shocked stares he gets. “What? I know he’s good but what if there’s something he can’t do without a certain tool? Like you said, we aren’t sure how bad their ship was damaged. It could be too bad to get off the ground.”

Steve huffs out a weak chuckle. “If there’s anything I know about Tony, it’s that he could get our scrap heap we left behind off the ground if he chose to try hard enough. Don’t worry. We’ll get home.”

They get another MRE down Steve before he falls asleep again.

Peter puts the back of his hand to Steve’s forehead, letting out a sigh when he feels his temperature is returning back to normal.

Clint gives him a soft smile. “He’s going to be fine.”

Peter pulls him into a tight hug.

After a few seconds of shock, Clint’s arms settle around Peter’s shoulders. He tightens them when he feels the minute shudder. He feels guilt slither in at how long it’s been since he’s hugged his nephew. “We’ve got you, kid.”

Peter nods against his neck. “I know. Thanks”

“You don’t thank family for helping you. That’s our job. I know everyone has been a bit scattered for the past few years, but you can always call us if you need anything. You know that, right?”

Peter nods again, but doesn’t let go.

Clint shares a fond grin with Bucky over Peter’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you too, kid. I’ll make sure to stop by the tower more often once we’re back. Deal? Phil has been antsy without keeping his eye on everyone anyway.”

Peter finally pulls back, laughing. “Deal. And I miss him too. Haven’t seen him often enough.”

The golden years for many children is when the family comes together. A lot of times its because of the children themselves. As they grow older, families start to drift away. Time and energy to come together gets harder to pull together. In the lives of the Avengers? Things got rough. More people, new recruits, saving the world. The team is larger now. Peter’s extended family could include countless others. Some crash at the tower every once in a while, but most prefer to have their own homes. But his original family? The first to love him? He misses them more often lately.

Clint reaches up to give a gentle pat to Peter’s cheek before cupping it. “I know, Petey. We’ve actually been talking about moving back in. We’d rather be where the backup is. It’s getting harder to bounce back these days and, if we’re being honest, a quiet apartment isn’t as nice as the idea sounded.”

Bucky chuckles. “I told you, you’d miss us.”

“You? No. My second favorite human right here? Yes.”

Peter snorts. “Please. Everyone knows that Tony is your second favorite human.”

Clint grins with a shrug. “I guess it’s true enough. Back in the day, Phil even thought he had competition before I assured him Tony was mooning after Steve.”

Bucky sighs and stands to go get more wood for the night’s fire. “Speaking of Steve, none of us got any real sleep last night because of that punk. Let’s make sure we get some tonight so we’ll be ready to move on when he no doubt forces himself to his feet.”

Peter smiles softly, looking down at Steve. He lets out a breath, his chest finally loosening.

Chapter Text

She wakes up to a dark room, the “Lights!” she calls out coming out strangled. Jarvis complies immediately, a soft glow filling the space as she tries to level her breathing. She doesn’t dream often. Or doesn’t remember them. She doesn’t know if she believes the ‘you dream every night’ people say when she dreams barely two or three times a year. Tonight though…

“Nat.”

Natasha’s gaze snaps to the chair by the window, breath coming easier when she sees she’s not alone. “ Там вы.“ There you are.

He smiles a little. “Это нормально.“ It’s okay.

“Why are you over there?” she asks softly, finally switching back to English. Russian is their secret language. What they speak when they only want to speak with each other. In their room, it’s rarely used. They already have whatever privacy they need here.

Bucky shrugs one shoulder a little. “I didn’t know what you would want,” he offers softly.

This thing between them isn’t all that new anymore, but they’re both cautious people. Revealing more and more about themselves as they go. It’s a solid relationship, but it’s one based on mutual respect for the fact that they have a lot to work on if they want to be together. Like their shared past.

Natasha understands why he looks nervous. “What did I say?”

His grin turns deprecating. “My name. Stop. Other bad stuff. It wasn’t hard to figure out.” He looks out the window, at half opacity to dull the brightness of the city lights. “I wish I could remember everything I did to hurt people. It’d be easier to fix then.”

She’s quiet. Then, “I don’t dream about you hurting me.” It’s soft. Like a secret. “I never have. I’d see your face in them sometimes. The few dreams I have. But it was never you hurting me. It’s like I knew.”

Bucky tilts his head, leaning forward in the chair to rest his elbows on his knees but doesn’t move to go to her yet. “Then why…?”

She shrugs, looking out the window now too. “Our last mission.”

Bucky frowns, thinking. When it clicks, he feels his chest clench. “Nat.”

“It was just a little too close,” she murmurs. “For a second, I thought…”

Bucky is suddenly in front of her, sitting on the bed. He reaches out, flesh hand touching her cheek. “I’m okay.”

She turns into the touch, comfortable now with showing weakness in front of him. “I know.”

“I really only would have lost another arm. Stark would have been excited.”

She rolls her eyes, reaching for his metal hand that still rests in his own lap. Running her fingers over it, she smiles a little. “That wouldn’t have been so bad.” She looks up with a smirk. “Keep losing limbs and eventually you actually could be Robocop. Tony won’t just be joking anymore.”

Bucky huffs. “You pick the weirdest times to have a sense of humor.”

“You are not the first person to tell me that.”

His chuckle is warm and fond. He nods towards the pillows. “Let’s go back to sleep, huh?”

Sam finds that Natasha sleeps curled up in one of the pilot’s seats. She’s always curled with the chair turned towards the window, eyes immediately seeing anything that may happen outside when she opens them. One night, he finally asks. “You keeping watch for them?”

Her voice is soft when she answers. “Clint was always my eyes. He kept watch. I’m feeling his absence more acutely out here in a strange land that may be hiding strange or evil creatures.” She finally turns to him with a small smile. “And James likes to come through windows. I’ve gotten used to keeping my eye on them.”

Sam chuckles. “So I’ve noticed.” Nine times out of ten, Bucky would show up in Sam’s house without the front door even being unlocked. It was no surprise when he would find a window left open on nights when the weather was comfortable.

“I know they won’t be back for a while, but I still feel better where I can see.” She gives a small shrug.

It’s been a few days now. Everyone has gotten quieter with each passing day. Tensions rise and fall as tempers rear their heads. Arguments flare up fast but they never last long. It’s hard to keep up a fight when they realize that… this is it. This is the only family that is guaranteed to them right now. All they have at the moment is each other. If they forget that, then all is lost before they’ve had a chance to get it back.

Rhodey and Sam have shared more worried looks over the past few days than the past few years combined. They’re floundering. Keeping their team afloat when their own worry is starting to sink in is exhausting. They can only tell themselves they aren’t as close to the situation for so long. To say they care any less than the rest for the passengers of that other ship would be a lie.

The cause of most of those glances is currently swaying on his feet.

“Tony, c’mon.”

An ineloquent grunt.

“You need to sleep. You haven’t slept since we left home.”

“I can’t.”

Rhodey sighs, rubbing his eyes. It’s been a long time since he’s had to be the one to drag Tony to bed. “Can’t or wont?”

“Both, okay?” Tony takes off his gloves and throws them to the ground. “Both. I can’t…”

Rhodey stares as Tony runs a hand up through his hair, causing the unruly mess to look even worse. “Hey. Talk to me. What’s wrong?” He moves forward, hands gently curling around Tony's biceps to pull him to stand in front of him. Looking down, the rush of fondness he always feels washes over him. Tony’s height used to be a sore point. But Rhodey has always liked how it made him feel like he could easily curl over and protect Tony when needed. “Besides the obvious, anyway.”

“The numbers won’t stop,” Tony finally breathes. He looks up, red rimmed eyes meeting his friend’s in desperation. “Before Steve, it was always like this. Projects got done because they wouldn’t leave me alone. Ideas and numbers were always running through my head. But…” he shrugs helplessly, “Steve always made them stop. My mind would quiet. I could go to sleep because he was there to make sure everything was okay. I didn’t always have to…”

“You didn’t have to keep everything together on your own,” Rhodey finishes for him. He smiles softly. It was always easy to see how Steve affected Tony, but to hear just how much he calmed the naturally manic mind inside the man… Rhodey almost loves Steve himself. He sighs, pulling Tony into his arms.

“It’s worse though,” Tony mumbles into his chest.

“Tell me.”

“All I can think about are the percentages. Probabilities. The data on the supersoldier serum. The tests on Peter's abilities. Clint's medical files. Human survival statistics from plane crashes. Of them making it here. Our navigation system was failing as we were crashing so we may not even know where we are compared to them once I get it back online.” His voice fades as he talks, exhaustion and pain taking their toll.

Rhodey doesn’t know what to say. He tightens his hold around Tony’s shoulders and just holds on. After a minute he asks, “Are they all bad probabilities?”

With a shudder, Tony hums a negative sound. “No. Not all of them.”

A soft hum from Rhodey in return. “Then you hold on to those good ones. You hear me? If all you focus on are the bad ones, it’ll destroy you.”

Tony lets out a sharp laugh, no part of it happy. He finally pulls back enough to look up at his oldest friend. “None of those good probabilities ever include Steve. No matter how I run the numbers.”

Rhodey tries for a grin. “Steve has a tendency to defy the odds.”

Tony only sighs, letting his head fall back down to rest on Rhodey’s shoulder. “Everyone’s luck runs out eventually. I can’t always expect Steve to laugh in the face of death.”

Rhodey lets Tony wallow in his worry for a few more minutes before murmuring, “Just try to sleep. For me?”

He gets Tony to rest for a few hours at least before he’s up again and heading back outside.

They both wave to Phil on the way back out who is making note of the day’s activities in his notebook in the main room. He’s made it his mission to keep tabs on everything that happens for when they get back. No one is sure whether this is supposed to make him feel like he’s doing something useful, or to keep his mind busy for at least a few minutes without dwelling on his missing team members. In the end, most of them decide it would be useful to have a record of their doings to relay to the chain of command back home.

Thor nods to them as they pass, done with his shift to watch. He doesn’t speak unless spoken to these days. It’s odd. They all hate it.

Worry is a constant hum around their ship. It’s become a familiar, steady thrum of anxiety that never leaves, but it stays level and manageable until a few days in when it suddenly has a reason to spike.

“What the hell is that?”

It’s dark, the light source for this planet having moved out of visible rotation hours ago. Tony is working on the ship while Rhodey and Sam rotate between playing a game of cards and lending an extra hand to Tony whenever he asks. They’re currently back to their card game when it’s Sam who asks the question, eyes straining through the darkness to a pair of glowing specks at the edge of the trees.

Rhodey follows his gaze, muscles bunching up in a flow of tension when he sees what Sam is looking at. “Aw, hell.” He doesn’t look away as he raises his voice just high enough for Tony to take notice. “Hey, Tones?”

An ineloquent grunt.

“Tony. We need Thor out here. Now.”

Sam let’s out a soft curse when the glowing moves closer. “Right now.”

“What are you-” Tony turns from his work with blatant irritation. It drains from his face when he sees the stiff way Sam and Rhodey are slowly putting their cards down and reaching for their guns they always have holstered on their hips. He follows their gaze with his own eyes and lets out a soft noise of understanding. “Yeah, you know what? I think I’ll go get him.”

He moves slowly towards the door of the ship, doing his best to seem nonchalant. They don’t know how intelligent these creatures are. “Hey, Thor? Buddy?” He’s more grateful than ever that the door to the ship is left open whenever any of them are outside. That constant level of anxiety makes separation more difficult. He lets out a sigh when Thor meets him in the doorway. “We have some uninvited guests.”

Thor looks out over his shoulder, face moving through curiosity, worry, and fear before settling on determination. “I’ll go figure out what kind of creatures these are. Whether they are friend or foe.”

Natasha shows up at his side, gun already in hand. “I’m thinking foe.”

They can’t see anything clearly. The sharp contrast between the work lights Tony uses and the darkness surrounding the ship keeps them from seeing anything notable. However, for a group of trained fighters, it’s impossible not to notice the stalking movements as the creature moves closer. The closer it gets, the easier it is to see how large it is.

Phil comes up next to Natasha as Thor moves down the stairs of the ship. “It’s big.” His own gun is in his hand.

She nods once. “It’s a hunter.”

Sam and Rhodey finally stand as Thor moves out to take point. Sam puts himself between Thor and the door to the ship while Rhodey goes to stand in front of Tony. He calls back softly to Natasha and Phil. “I might be calling the suit soon. Be ready to get out of the way.”

“Roger that.” It’s Agent Coulson now, no less the man in the suit even when not wearing one. “Let’s see if confrontation is necessary first.” When another set of reflective orbs appears not much farther back than the first, he lets out a low groan. “On second thought, you might want to just call it.”

Sam’s intake of breath when the first figure steps out of the darkest shadows echoes in the stunned silence. Nothing can be seen clearly, but the stalking creature is the manifestation of malice. White teeth suddenly glint in the light, almost floating against the blackness.

“Tony get inside.” Rhodey’s voice is tight. “Coulson move.”

The low whine of a gauntlet powering up fills the silence around them. “Don’t count me out yet, sugar plumb.”

Thor straightens his shoulders and meets the eyes of the shadowy creature in front of him. Now that it’s closer, he can see that it is an animal, nothing that can be reasoned with. He only offers a warning, though he doubts it will understand. “If you’ve come to fight, a fight you shall have.”

He only gets a low rumble in reply, an odd sound that makes the hairs on his arms stand on end.

Sam lets out a low curse.

The creature leaps.

They never do get a good look, both creatures keeping out of the light. Whether it’s smart enough to know that shadows can hide its movements or because the gunfire keeps it from getting any closer is up in the air. Whatever the reason, by the time a hard hit by Tony’s repulsors send them scattering they still don’t know what they were truly up against.

“It looked like a mix between a jungle cat and a wolf.” Sam shudders as he sits in the seat next to Natasha where she’s going through her weapons. “Feline and canine mixed together could be a deadly mix.”

Coulson frowns. “To compare it to anything from earth would be limiting it. We have no idea what they could be capable of.”

“I agree.” Rhodey looks to Tony. “You’re going to need the War Machine armor for sure?”

Tony gives a one-shouldered shrug in apology. “If it makes you feel any better, it hurts me too.”

“I will take more watch shifts,” Thor offers. “We should double up. No one keeping watch alone.”

Natasha nods. “Agreed.”

Coulson nods as well. “In the meantime, lets stay inside for the night. It wouldn't be wise to tempt fate twice in one night.”

Sam points to Tony. “That means that you can try to get more sleep.”

Tony rolls his eyes, letting Rhodey pull him from his chair and towards the rooms. “You’re a menace, Samuel.” There’s no real bite in it. He knows there’s no way he’s going to be allowed outside anymore tonight.

The room clears after that, everyone deciding to catch up on sleep while they’re all safely inside with the doors shut tight. Everyone except for Coulson and Natasha.

“You look like you’re thinking up a bad idea.” Coulson’s voice is soft but sure. He can see the gears working behind Natasha’s eyes. He's had a lot of practice.

She looks to him. “We should be looking for them.”

Phil frowns. “I said a bad idea, not a terrible one. You know better than that. We don’t go looking for someone looking for us. We stay put.” Though he knows it too, it’s painful to say.

“They’re out there without any secure shelter and no replacement for any weapon that may break or when they run out of ammunition. We need to-”

“No.”

Natasha’s jaw clenches. Her constant calm is starting to fade. “Phil…”

“Tony’s started taking apart the armor for parts for the ship yesterday. And Rhodey won’t leave Tony defenseless.”

“Then we take Thor.”

“And leave the rest without protection when Tony finally has to take apart the War Machine armor? Even I can tell from looking at the mess of our ship that it’s going to happen sooner rather than later.”

She looks away.

“Natasha.” Phil sighs, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees. “You know the best option is to stay put. Do whatever we can to make sure we’re prepared for when they come back. It’s a mission without an extraction point. We wait for contact. Then we act.”

She knows he’s right. He’s always right. And she knows how hard this is for him too. Clint had his solo missions just like she did. She’s sat back at mission control with Coulson in her sights as he kept round-the-clock vigil on their control center team as they waited for Barton to make contact. She knows exactly how many hours of sleep he’s lost and how many folders of paperwork he powered through to keep his mind off of each second that ticked by. Out here, there isn’t even that. He’s as bereft as she is. Yet he’s not backing down.

Neither should she.

She takes a deep breath in, shoulders squaring off again as she lets it out. She nods once.

Coulson nods back. “We do what we’ve always done when contact was impossible. We trust him to make it to us.”

She understands that the ‘him’ is for all of them. Each of them know how to make contact when needed. Each of them would do whatever it took to get back when separated. Even young Peter has grown into his own as a super hero. They need to trust that they’ll make it back, just like any other time back on earth. She lets out a sigh. Besides, who’s to say that these creatures have any other territory than where their own ship happens to have landed?

Chapter Text

“Clint.”

“Hmmm?”

“My Spidey senses are tingling.”

Clint’s eyes snap open. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

Peter shakes his head. “And Bucky is gone.”

“Son of a bitch.” Clint’s hand reaches out to curl around his bow. “What does it feel like, kid?” He pushes up to a sit.

They’ve been traveling for the past few days, slow enough for Steve to keep up yet fast enough that he doesn’t have that guilty look on his face. It’s been a process, the distance both daunting and relentless. Time might be relative, but distance has always been a definite. Things don’t just get closer. You have to work your way to the destination no matter what may lie between.

Bucky and Clint keep watch most nights until Steve gets better, arguing that Peter can take a night once he’s not distracted by keeping one eye on Steve at all times. Tonight was finally Peter’s turn to watch, Bucky and Clint having bedded down early in order to get sleep during some daylight when things always seemed safer. It seems that feeling isn’t always only paranoia.

“Something’s out there.” Peter looks over to Steve now. “I don’t wanna wake him.” Though Steve had finally started walking without that crease in his brow that Tony always calls the “Martyr Complex Crease”, he still moves stiffly. Bucky had only just let Steve start carrying his own pack yesterday and Steve still passes out a second after his head hits the top of it when they bunk down for the night. Tonight was no different and he’s been out cold since.

“Me neither, but he hears better than I do. I’d appreciate the help.” Clint rolls his shoulders as his eyes sweep the perimeter.

Peter nods and reaches out to rest his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Dad.”

Clint looks over when Steve doesn’t move. “He’s out, isn’t he? Must still be healing.” He tries next. “Steve!” He hisses it, unwilling to raise his voice and alert whatever is out there.

Peter rolls his eyes when Steve sleeps on. He doesn't want to shake his shoulder, afraid that it will cause alarm and make Steve hurt himself by springing into action. He looks pointedly at Clint before raising up a finger. “Watch this.” He leans over Steve’s ear. “Daddy.” He grins at Clint when Steve inhales sharply and moves to push himself up.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Steve freezes when he opens his eyes and is reminded of their situation and that his son isn’t the little boy he used to be anymore. Peter only ever called he and Tony ‘Daddy’ after a nightmare. During daylight hours, he was too much of a 'big boy' to do so. Steve groans as he sits back and rubs a hand over his face.

Clint chuckles. “Daddy Steve to the rescue.”

Peter grins. “I always knew where to go when I was scared.”

Steve’s eyes are soft when they look to Peter, the dim light of the fire doing nothing to quell the look of adoration. Then he realizes Peter must have woken him up for a reason. “What’s wrong?”

Peter taps his temple in the known reference to his enhanced instincts. “Something is out there.”

Clint groans as he goes back to scanning the land around them. “I hate being on the ground.”

Steve stiffens as he too looks around. “Where’s Bucky?”

Peter moves to a crouch. “I don’t know. But something is about to move in.”

A stick snaps in the dark, provoking a flurry of activity that leads to Clint nocking an arrow and pointing it at Bucky’s chest. “Damnit Barnes!” he hisses as he lowers his bow. “You trying to die tonight?”

Bucky’s hands, previously raised, lower to his sides. “Sorry. I needed to do some recon. I heard something out there.”

Steve nods. “Peter feels it. You find anything?” He pulls on his shield, flexing his arm in its straps to test the newly healed bones. His arm still feels stiff, but all of the pain is finally gone. His ribs might still be tender, but he doesn’t doubt that in a pinch, he’ll be able to ignore any residual discomfort.

Moving forward, Bucky touches Steve’s elbow to pull him close. He keeps his voice low. “It was hunting me, whatever it was. It’s like it was waiting.” He startles when he turns his head and finds Clint suddenly right there. “Barton you little shit…”

“You see what it was?” His fingers twitch around the fletcher of the arrow still nocked.

Peter comes in close, back to them as his eyes stay on the shadows in the trees. “It doesn’t matter. We’re about to find out.”

They all turn at that, shoulders pressing together as a herd of horses would face out against a pack of wolves. Four pairs of eyes strain to search in the darkness.

Clint is the first one to stiffen. “Here they come.”

Bucky tenses. “They?”

Peter presses back into the shoulders of his uncles, wishing he were standing next to his father. He doesn’t give a damn that he’s technically an adult. His dad has always been, and will always be, Safest. “Yeah,” he breathes. “They.” He flinches back when the shadow he had been watching steps out into the clearing. He knows how to fight people. He knows his resources on Earth. Humans and the things they can become and the tools he has to defeat them. He doesn’t know these creatures. These aliens. It’s a scary feeling.

The thing that steps out shines the strange color of blue that black sometimes produces, patches of fur and skin mixed together in a mangy look. Like a giant dog, it slinks out on all fours, tail twitching behind it long and thin like a cat’s. It’s eyes glow green in the light and white teeth stand out against a mouth more square than usually seen on earth’s canine creatures. It’s nose flares out as it scents the air.

It’s not the only one. Steve curses to rival Tony as two other creatures step out at the same time. He graciously takes the knife Bucky silently hands him. “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Remind me to let Tony finally make us briefcase suits when we get home, okay?”

“Sounds reasonable. I’m feeling pretty soft and fleshy right now.”

The creatures start to circle, making the group press back into each other more. Bucky turns to Peter. “I’m going to vault you towards the trees when they leap,” he murmurs. “No arguing. Get high and stay there. Got it?”

“But-”

“Do it, Peter.” Steve’s fist clenches as he sees the muscles of the creature in front of him start to bunch. “I’ve never pulled you from a fight since we found out you were Spider Man. But I need you to do this for me now. Please.”

There’s no time for a counter argument. The creatures leap as one.

It’s years of being a well oiled machine that help them start their counter attack, along with keeping Peter cleared to make it to the trees. Vaulted with Bucky’s metal arm, Peter is easily thrown far enough to land on a tree branch under the protection of Clint’s arrows.

Steve protects them all with his shield, the disk ricocheting off of one creature to skid back towards him on the ground. He scoops it up and slams it into another, leaving only one left for Clint to keep away from Peter. It takes five arrows to take it down and it collapses at the base of the tree when Clint finally gets a shot to the base of its skull.

Peter nods his thanks to Clint as the archer runs over to pull arrows from the body. There are no ammunition drops out here.

Steve and Bucky move back to back as the remaining two creatures circle them, having recovered from the hits by Steve’s shield.

“Any ideas, Cap?” Bucky bounces on the balls of his feet as they turn with the creatures, gearing up for the fight.

Steve shakes his arms out, grimacing at the slight sting in his bones. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to use his arms for anything strenuous yet. “Remember the bear on our last mission in Russia?”

“The one you told me I couldn’t kill, even after he destroyed our camp and ate our food?” His tone is dry.

Steve smiles to himself, crouching as he sees the creature’s head lower and the circling slows. “Think of this as retribution.”

Bucky lets out a bark of laughter.

The creatures leap.

Steve and Bucky don’t hold back. Their quick movements seem to surprise the creatures, unable to keep up with the dodging of their attacks and the fists and metal slamming into them in retaliation. When Clint comes back with well-placed arrows from his spot on a low branch of Peter’s tree, the creatures start backing up and moving more into a stand off rather than straight attacks.

The two men stand against each other again as the circling starts for a third time. One creature has an arrow embedded in its shoulder and cuts from Steve’s knife. The other one is limping with an arrow fully through its leg, both head and fletcher of the arrow visible in the dim light. It also is missing an ear, courtesy of Bucky.

Nice shot, Steve signs to Clint, not wanting to draw attention back to him and Peter. They’re learning though. Time to switch it up.

What do you have in mind? comes the reply.

Steve and Bucky move to keep their respective animals in their vision. Clint is cut from Steve’s line of sight. “Tell Clint we’re going to set him up for Heartbreaker,” he murmurs.

Bucky chuckles, doing so. “He’s going to love this.”

“Ready to assist?”

“Ready.”

The two coming on offense this time confuses the creatures yet again, leaving an opening for Bucky to hit one hard enough to send it rolling yards away. He immediately turns and fists his hands in the skin of the neck of the one Steve is grappling with, twisting it around and teaming up with Steve to hold it still in front of his chest, just in time for an arrow to plunge into its eye socket.

A blood-curdling screech sounds, the two super soldiers letting go and stepping back to watch it writhe on the ground and try to get the arrow out. They cringe as the volume increases as it rolls and moves the arrow around in its head, letting out collective sighs when the screech suddenly cuts off and the creature falls limp on the ground.

The remaining creature, that had froze when it heard the first screeches, turns and slinks away into the darkness.

“You better run!” Clint calls after it, jogging over to Steve and Bucky with Peter close behind.

Peter stops in front of Steve, eyes scanning him over. He lets out a sigh when he sees no visible marks. “Nice job, guys.”

Bucky makes a rough, grossed-out sound, drawing all attention to him as he backs away from were he was inspecting the eye socket of the dead creature.

Clint chuckles, face a mix between a grin and grimace. “The idea was to let him rip his own brain apart.”

Bucky shudders. “Carried out in full, agent.”

Clint’s grin falters. Just for a second.

Steve notices. “C’mon. Let’s try to get a few more hours of sleep.” He cups the back of Peter’s head, pulling him back towards the fire that way. "Thank you for listening earlier."

Peter nods. "It didn't seem like the time to argue." He scans Steve over again. "You hurting anywhere?"

Steve shakes his head. “Nothing too bad. Just a bit sore.”

Walking over to their fire now in desperate need of more fuel, Peter turns to the others. “Why was that called ‘Heartbreaker’ by the way?”

Clint laughs as Steve smiles softly. “Tony named it the first time we pulled it off. Steve told me to aim for his heart. Without even thinking it through, I did.”

Peter looks to Steve with wide eyes.

Steve shrugs. “We trust each other. Me to make a call and Clint to aim true. I held a monster, much like this one, up in front of my chest for the arrow to hit.”

“Tony had a heart attack,” Bucky chuckles.

Steve sighs fondly. “One of our many fights about communication and safety.”

Peter rolls his eyes. He became used to the post battle fights that happened less and less as he grew up. At first, he feared it meant an impending divorce. Eventually, he got old enough to realize that the care and concern behind each yell and broken coffee mug was more than enough to keep them together.

Bucky shakes his head at Steve. “You miss fighting with him, don’t you?”

Steve shrugs ruefully. “I miss him period.”

“I’m sure you miss the make up sex too,” Clint comments.

Steve sighs, his blushing long wore out. A hazard of living with so many heroes who don’t know when to stop talking. Most have no brain to mouth filter. Or just don’t care.

Peter, still having not gotten used to it, cringes. “Clint. Images.”

Clint waves him off.

Going back to lying down around the fire, the group builds it back up. Once it’s crackling and warming them again, they all seem to relax at the same time. Little by little, their adrenaline high starts to leave them. It’s Steve who breaks the silence.

“You can get a couple more hours of sleep if you want,” he murmurs, reaching out to run his hand through Peter’s hair. He smiles when his son lets out a content sigh at the familiar contact. “I won’t be able to go back to sleep anyway.”

Peter lays his head down on his bag. “You sure?”

“Yeah. My “daddy instincts” are on high alert now.”

Clint snorts. “You’re a mother hen all the time, Steve.”

Steve glares over at him.

Peter chuckles tiredly. “S’true.”

Steve sighs fondly, looking down at his son. “Et tu, Peter?”

Peter smiles but doesn’t open his eyes. “It’s not a bad thing. You take care of us. Keep us safe. It’s nice.”

Bucky finally speaks up from his place across the fire with his back to them. Making sweeps of the perimeter with his eyes, most likely. “You’re a natural protector. Always were. It just came out more when you got the body you should have had all along. It’s who you are. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

Steve smiles at the emergence of the old Brooklyn accent in the obvious loving praise. For the millionth time, he gives thanks for having this friend in his life. “Thanks, Buck.”

Clint sighs. “Well, I’m getting a couple more hours too. Kid’s already asleep.”

Steve looks down. Sure enough, Peter is sound asleep next to him. He looks over to Bucky’s back. “You can sleep too, you know?”

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Then, “A target is still loose. I won’t be able to shut down knowing it’s out there.”

Steve bites back a sad sigh. The word ‘target’ is rarely ever used outside of a mission. What was just a trek back to the other ship is now a mission. A challenge for survival. And with a threat, ‘Bucky’ merges with the ‘Winter Soldier’. While a perfect combination for their usual assignments, Bucky does his best to not let this happen when he’s home. Though his rough days in transition are long gone, it doesn’t seem like he’ll ever let himself forget what could happen if he doesn’t keep the Winter Soldier in check.

Steve moves around the fire to sit next to his friend, facing the opposite direction. “You do what you need to.” He keeps watch with him.

Chapter Text

It’s been two weeks since the crash.

Thor disappeared again a few days ago, coming back only last night with a somber face and hopelessness in his voice. There was still no sign of the other ship. With this news, they have all reluctantly agreed that the best thing to do was to stay put until their own ship was able to power up and give them the readings it was compiling as they were crashing. Only then could they make a real decision on what they could do to help their lost family members.

Tony has now completely taken apart the Iron Man armor. Rhodey barely ever leaves his side these days, even if there are others out on watch. He uses the excuse of helping him to stay close.

“The hell… How do you expect me to get this in there? Do my hands look as small as yours?”

“You wanted to help, Rhodey bear. Don’t offer help if you don’t like the jobs I give you.”

“You need to stop giving me jobs that my big ass hands and clumsy fingers can’t do. Get over here. I’ll finish that so you can come over and get this little piece of shit… to go… in… Never mind. Got it.”

“You’re hopeless.”

Coulson helps Natasha create a system for the food stash, creating a chart on the wall and painstakingly going over how long they could make their protein supplies last while mixing in the fruit Thor and Sam continuously gather. Sam finds them on the floor of the store room on the second day of the endeavor and raises an eyebrow at Coulson, who has an arm thrown over his face and Natasha’s head resting on his chest as she lays perpendicular to his position.

Without lifting his arm, Coulson’s dry voice drifts over to him. “Leave or join us. But don’t stare.”

Sam ends up with his head on Natasha’s thighs, her fingers softly scritching over his scalp.

He doesn’t ask. Knows from experience that thinking about survival, not just keeping yourself but everyone else alive, can take a mental toll on someone. They aren’t physically straining themselves trying to fix the ship or fighting off monsters to save New York, but the constant tallying of life and the supplies needed to sustain life… it can be daunting.

Coulson eventually looks over to him. “You doing okay?”

Sam laughs. “You’re a piece of work, Coulson.”

With a soft shrug, Coulson throws his arm back over his eyes and goes quiet again.

It feels like hours later before Sam speaks again. “You guys did good work.” His eyes move over the writing on the wall. “It’s a solid plan.”

“Hopefully it didn’t need to be as long as we made it. I just figured it was better safe than sorry.” Coulson finally moves his arm again and looks over the wall as well. The calendar of supplies

Rhodey opens the door, blinking at the three in surprise. “I wondered where you were.” He looks at the wall, then at the food stash. “Wanna make dinner?”

Sam holds up a hand.

Rhodey rolls his eyes and moves into the room. He takes Sam’s hand and pulls him to his feet before doing the same for Natasha and Phil.

Phil pats his shoulder as he stands. “Dinner sounds good.”

Dinner is a tense affair. Every day, the underlying tensions between the people who want to leave and those who want to keep everyone here keep rising. Tonight, to everyone’s surprise, it’s Thor who speaks up.

“I feel useless. I think the best way for me to contribute would be to go searching for them. Until I find them, this time.”

Sam sighs. “Thor, you’re not useless.”

“Everyone stays here.” Phil’s voice is tired.

Natasha doesn’t look up from her food. “He would be the best option.”

Phil’s Frown of Disappointment lands on her. It turns into a scowl when she still won’t look up.

Tony raises his spoon. “I agree.”

“I don’t.” Sam glares at them all. “Tony’s taken apart his armor and has started on Rhodes’. What do we do if those creatures come back?”

“We aren’t helpless,” Tony sneers.

Rhodey turns to him. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t ask Thor for help at least once a day in repairing the ship.”

Tony’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click of teeth. He breathes a furious breath in through his nose but is cut off before he can retort back.

Natasha sighs, nodding. “Thor needs to stay to help Tony. And will be our last big gun.” She looks over the rest of them. “The rest of us shouldn’t be stupid.”

“The others didn’t have a choice,” Tony growls. His eyes dig into Natasha's when she turns to him. Then Sam’s. “They’re out there against their will while we’re sitting in a perfectly safe ship! Who knows what they’re up against out there?”

“Do you not trust Steve to get them here?” Coulson asks.

Tony spins to him, eyes flashing with fury. “Steve was in the front of the ship!” He gestures wildly to the front of their own. “He was flying it when it crashed! No one should be expected to survive that,” he hisses, eyes shiny. “And even if…” he cuts himself off. Everyone is silent as he takes a few breaths. “My son is out there.” He looks between Natasha and Coulson. “As much as I trust Barton and Barnes… I can’t leave him out there while I sit here doing nothing. What kind of father does that make me?”

“One that’s doing the best he can,” Rhodey murmurs. His eyes are soft. “If you can’t fix this ship, we’ll have nowhere to go when they get here. Peter would never think of you as someone who wouldn’t give him the world. Since you aren’t with him now, do the next best thing. Fix his way home.”

“Does it make me a bad husband that I’m not out there looking for Clint?” Coulson’s voice is uncharacteristically vulnerable. He’s legitimately asking. “Should he hate me for not looking for him?”

Tony looks away.

Sam sets his empty food container down. He wasn’t hungry, but… none of them really are. It’s important to eat anyway. “Being smart, making sure to not cause more problems, doesn’t mean you don’t care about them. It means you care enough to make sure the rest of us are here when they get back. To make sure their way home is secured or you are alive. How would you think they’d feel if any one of you weren’t here when they got back?”

“They’d blame themselves like we are now,” Natasha answers truthfully.

Sam nods.

Tony’s shoulders finally slump. He knows it’s true. If Steve were to somehow be alive, if any of them were gone when he made it here it would hit him hard. No matter how much of this situation isn’t his fault.

It goes silent in the ship.

It stays that way for the rest of the night.

“So of course, I was banned from the Chem building too. I had to literally beg my teacher to get security to lift the ban so I wouldn’t fail my class. I couldn’t just not show up!” Rhodey shrugs with a wry grin at Coulson, who’s still laughing from where he’s sitting on the wing of the ship. “I told you. No matter what you’ve had to put up with, no one’s had it worse than me.”

Tony glares over his shoulder. “I hate you.”

“Honestly? I kinda hated you that day. We could have died, Tony!”

“Oh please. The explosion wasn’t that big.”

"If I failed a class my momma would have killed me!"

Tony shrugs, nodding. He concedes that.

Natasha appears next to Coulson, taking a seat on the wing as well with a soft smile, having heard the end of the story.

She’s the last one to show up, the whole group more or less lounging around Tony’s work station.

“What about you, Agent?” Tony actually gives a small grin. The first one in days. “We know what happened after you came back from the dead, but we never heard how you and Robin Hood met. Knowing him, I’m sure it was interesting.”

Coulson chuckles, eyes going soft as they seem to focus on nothing. “It might shock you to know I reached out to him first.”

Sam blinks. “I would have lost that bet,” he agrees.

Natasha lets out a fond sigh. “Clint never actually told me how you two met. He always said you were the only handler who would put up with him so you got stuck with him forever.” She shakes her head. “Self-deprecating little shit.”

Thor finally speaks up. “You always had your eye on our hawk, then? You knew he would be who you loved?”

Phil’s surprise at Thor actually talking without being addressed is overrun by his own self realization. It’s been a long time since he thought about his early years with Clint. “I suppose that’s true.”

Clint is recruited by Fury young, dumb, and still trying to figure out who the hell he is after the mess of his life that’s left him without a family, without a friend, and could have ended up without a life at all if he wasn’t careful. Which he wasn’t. Which is how Fury was able to catch up to him in the first place, all “Greatest marksman, huh? I’ve had my eye on you for a while, kid.” and, “Sure, I’ll leave you alone if you want. But the only way you’re going to start fixing your sorry ass life is actually doing something about it.”

Coulson doesn’t actually meet Clint for quite a while. It doesn’t mean he can’t keep tabs. Being Fury’s right hand has its perks after all. Clint goes through handlers like their seasoned agents go through identities. Which isn’t that odd for new recruits. It takes a while to find a fit sometimes and agents don’t always get the same handler unless they request to be assigned. Some like the consistency. But no matter who they pair Clint up with, he always does something to cause trouble. His reports come in with ‘Questions orders’ and ‘Chatter constantly over the coms’ along with ‘Went dark without informing’ and ‘hard to control’.

Now, that isn’t to say each handler does WANT to work with him. The requests for Hawkeye are astronomical and Fury is constantly grumbling about not running his best marksman into the ground. Coulson silently agrees. As the first year goes by, Clint grows into his own, but looks more and more run down every time Phil sees him on base. Which isn’t often. And when he is on base he’s constantly at the range Fury set up just for him to be more suited for his bow. (“Don’t you tell him that, Phil. He doesn’t need more reason for his head to grow larger.”)

Coulson likes watching the security feed for the range as he does his paperwork after his own ops, the rhythmic movements of draw, pull, release calming him after the stressful days or weeks he’s had. Fury always sends him into the most difficult situations because ‘You’re the best, Phil. I can’t trust anyone else with this’. After an undercover op that has Coulson stuck in medical for three days, he wonders if maybe it’s time to start pulling back and becoming a handler, rather than an agent.

He makes a decision at the beginning of Clint’s second year.

Fury has been keeping Coulson closer lately, giving him more responsibilities in preparing his new Initiative (with a capital “I”) rather than sending him out into the field anymore. It seems like the right time. Especially when the current surveillance operation Clint is on goes so spectacularly sideways that Coulson almost gets dizzy from where he’s safely tucked in his office. Losing audio of the team is the final straw. He’s in Fury’s office one minute after everything goes wrong, back straight and hands clasped behind his back with a new pile of filled-out forms resting neatly on the corner of the desk next to him. “This is my formal transition from Agent to Handler. Let me have him, Nick. I’ll have them home before dinner.”

All he needed was a nod.

He’s back in his office with Maria Hill in his ear, one of their newest commanders but no less competent, updating him on the situation as they close in on the pre-determined extraction point. He gets any satellite surveillance they can pull up on the screens around him and has to fight to get back the connection to Clint’s com. Maria does something on her ship to piggy-back the signal and he almost smiles when he hears the harsh breathing explode in his ear as the connection is made. “I have eyes in the sky but I’m not on the ground like you. Give me what you have, Hawkeye.”

The breathing pauses, calming, before the voice answers. “Who…?”

“Later. We’ve lost contact with the rest of your team. You may be the only one we can save. Let’s make that happen, yeah?”

“How do I know-?”

“Delta 236, I am exercising command with handler authorization Papa Charlie 632 with the ink still drying on the page. I’m your handler until I get you home.”

A few more breaths. Then, “Yeah. Okay.”

Phil nods to himself. “Good. Extraction point.”

“T-minus twenty minutes,” Hill informs them.

“You’re going to meet us there. We’re seeing hotspots between you and us so we’re going to work together to work through them and possibly pull anyone else on our side who’s still out there with us. Hill, I’m going to close the line . Wait for my word.”

“Sir.”

Phil closes down the line so that it’s just he and Clint. “Talk to me, Agent. How many hostiles?”

Clint seems to calm the longer Phil guides him, the chatter picking up on his end as he makes his way through the rough terrain. Phil gives him directions and he makes his own path when needed. “You seem to have some good eyes. You have every satellite in space working for you?” he asks when he makes it through a tight spot between two groups of hostiles, silently picking off the ones at the edge that spot him.

Phil allows himself a small smile. Maybe. “As many as I need.” He gives another directional command before, “Question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why were you inside?”

There’s a derisive snort. “Dorian got ahead of himself. Everyone was inside. I tried to help. When the fireworks started…” Phil inserts a shrug in the second of silence, “Everyone around me was picked off. Then all I could do was try to get out of there. No sign of any of my team since.”

Phil lets out a hum.

A gunshot.

“Ah, shit!” Muffled scuffling. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Report.” Phil closes his eyes to hear better. “Agent.”

There’s a soft groan, but other noise tells Phil he’s still moving. “Lone man. Took him out. Detouring a bit to get away from my previous position.”

Coulson nods, looking to the feeds and confirming it’s safe. “You’re clear. Keep moving.”

“This is shit. Dorian was shit. Who let him become a handler?”

Coulson chuckles, but internally, he’s agreeing. If Dorian isn’t dead, there stands a good chance that Phil will kill him himself. The op is in shambles. The whole team has been lost with Clint the only known survivor. “You’re almost there, Hawkeye. Keep sharp.” He opens the line again to Hill. “T-minus two minutes.”

“We’re in position,” Hill answers.

Clint grunts. “I’ll be coming down the mountain. Gonna need some med supplies.”

Coulson freezes. “You’re hurt?”

“Lone Ranger got a hit. My shoulder. Which I kinda need in top shape, ya know? Usually I hate being poked at and prodded. But there’s no Hawkeye if I can’t shoot my bow.”

“You’re all clear. Transport should be in sight.”

“Spotted. Making contact.”

Coulson nods to himself, letting out an internal sigh as the feeds from their evac team show Clint jogging out of the trees. There’s blood running down his shoulder but he still hasn’t released his knocked arrow. It’s not drawn (though Coulson knows he would push past the pain if he needed to) and he doesn’t lower his bow until he’s stepping onto the aircraft. Smart man.

Hill’s voice cuts in. “We have him on board, Sir.”

“Wait. You aren’t here?”

Coulson smiles to himself. “We’ll meet soon. It was a pleasure working with you, Hawkeye. Commander Hill will get you back to headquarters. Hill, a fresh new team is on their way to salvage this mission. You all are to come back.”

“Understood. Good work, Coulson.”

He reaches up to turn off the com.

“Wait. Coulson? THE Coulson?”

Coulson knows his reputation. He’d never admit it, but he’s a bit smug of how much a fairy tale he is to anyone under the clearance levels of their highest commanders like Hill. Not many people even know his first name, let alone which one of the agents walking around headquarters is actually him.

“Well hot damn. Hi.”

It takes a lot of willpower to keep from outright laughing over the coms. He has a reputation to uphold. “It’s your show now, Hill.” He disconnects.

Chapter Text

“This way?”

“I hope so.” Steve frowns at the wilderness in front of them. The river doesn’t ring a bell, but that could have been part of the map that hadn’t completed as they were crashing.

“I don’t have it on here either,” Clint sighs, turning his phone back off and sliding it into his pocket.

Steve nods. “It could be a part of the land the scanner didn’t get to collect. We’ve been heading the right way so far. I say we keep going.”

Bucky nods.

Clint groans. “What I wouldn’t give to have Phil using his all-seeing eyes to tell me where to go right now.”

Peter grins. “There aren’t any satellites here, Clint.”

Clint waves him off, heading down the hill they were resting on as they planned their next move. “He’d send Thor up into the sky to give directions.”

Bucky chuckles. “I can only imagine what it was like when it was just you two on missions.”

Steve snorts. “Phil must have had the patience of a saint.”

“That he did,” Clint muses with a smile.

Peter turns to him. “Your personalities are so different, your first mission with him must have been interesting for the both of you.”

Clint grins at him. “I heard his voice before I saw his face. My mission had gone bad because of a shit handler when this voice comes over my coms like it’d been in my head my whole life. ‘I have eyes in the sky but I’m not on the ground like you. Give me what you have, Hawkeye.’” He imitates Phil’s voice, earning laughter from the others. “I didn’t know who the hell was talking to me. My whole team had been wiped out. I thought I was going crazy. But he got me out of there.” He kicks a rock to the left, grinning at Peter when he kicks it back over. They keep kicking it as they walk.

Clint looks up at Hill from his spot sitting just inside the transport. He groans when medical personnel press a gauze pad to his shoulder. “So that was Coulson, huh?”

Hill shrugs. “The man, the myth, the legend.”

Clint laughs.

His shoulder was lucky. The bullet was a through and through. No major muscle groups were torn. A couple weeks of light workout as it healed and another week of working back up to his bow pass quickly as he tries to find out who this infamous Coulson is. He finds himself watching people in the halls. Tries to find which of the high level agents he doesn’t see anymore. Rumor has it that Coulson has switched over to handler and has been working with Sitwell to settle into the role. He hears too late that the test run of Coulson’s leadership was underway. Only finds out afterwards, before Sitwell comes and finds him for the next op.

He nods. “Barton. You back up to bat?”

Clint nods in answer. “I was cleared yesterday. You have something for me?”

Sitwell nods, just a hint of anticipation in his eyes. “We’re going to need you on this one.” He turns back the way he came, not even looking over his shoulder to check if Clint is following him. “Coulson and I will be working together on this. Unfortunately, Coulson won the coin toss so you’re his sniper. I’ll be finding my own.”

Clint almost grins. Keeps his expression schooled to professional with some difficulty. “So why are you coming to get me?”

“Fury is keeping him busy. This is going to be a shit show no matter how we go into it so they’re running through every possibility and making contingencies. I figured I’d see who you thought would be a good fit for my side of the op.” He opens the door to his office, motioning for Clint to step inside. “So here’s the run through…”

They’re on location 36 hours later, Clint having not seen hide nor hair of Coulson through the whole planning stages. It’s odd. Handlers are hands on when planning the op, working with their crew and yet… Clint isn’t the only one who hasn’t seen Coulson. Sitwell has grouped up two teams and no one on Clint’s team has even mentioned the other handler. Everyone seems content to answer to Sitwell. As if he were leading the two teams himself. It’s…

There’s a click in his com, telling him it’s been closed down.

“Hawkeye report.” The voice in his ear isn’t Sitwell’s.

Even though there’s no one around to see it, he keeps his surprise under wraps though it shocks him out of the niggling feeling that something about this op is already sideways. “Nothing yet, Sir.” Clint is perched in a massively large tree with lines of sight to every single member of his team, even if he can’t see them at the moment. “Care to tell me why I’ve been told you're the handler of my team but I’ve only been working with Sitwell?”

To his surprise, Coulson lets out the slightest amused sound. “Did Sitwell say I was the handler of your team?”

Clint blinks. He curses under his breath when he realizes that no, Sitwell never said that. He said that Clint was Coulson’s sniper. Sitwell split the teams himself. The only person under Coulson was Clint. The dots connect quickly. There’s only one reason Sitwell would make sure he knew more about the op than the rest of the team. “I’m not just your sniper. I’m your hunter.”

Phil almost sounds proud. “Right as we were planning this operation, things started looking weird. Your last mission fell apart, as well as Sitwell’s before this one. Fury and I decided that we needed someone with a keen eye who could pick out the snake under our feet.”

“And you picked me?”

“There may have been a rigged coin toss.”

Clint surprises himself with a laugh. “Pretty nefarious, Sir.”

“I prefer devious.”

Clint grins.

It’s hours later that he sits on the back of the snake he’s been assigned to hunt, soot covering his body and working its way into more areas he’d rather not think about. He groans as he finishes slapping cuffs on the man’s wrists, wishing he could kill him for the deep laceration that’s going to get him sent to medical against any and all of his wishes. “You thought you could run under an operation Coulson was over?”

The man doesn’t answer. Of course not. He’s out cold from a nice hard hit to the head with the business end of a bow.

Clint runs a hand over his face and up into his hair with another groan. Exhaustion moves in fast now that the fight is over. “I’m just… gonna keep sitting on you for now. Okay?”

The voice that answers comes from in front of him. “Are you sure you don't want to find a more comfortable place to relax?”

Clint lifts his eyes, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a grin. Coulson isn’t who he expected. Except that he is.

The calm and controlled voice in his ear matches up with the dress pants and button up shirt, along with the tie peeking out of the top of a tac vest pulled on over everything else. Clint sees the suit for what it used to be, even without the jacket. The sharp, dry wit that had started peeking out in their conversations matches closer to said tac vest and rolled sleeves, giving the slightest hint to the physical efficiency this man is known to have.

Eyes moving up to a ridiculously normal face with blue eyes and dark receding hair, Clint wonders if he even knows himself at all. Because before this, he wouldn’t have ever thought Coulson was his type. But there’s something about this man that immediately gets under his skin. Or maybe… he’s just always thought of himself as a shallow little shit that only looked at people with obvious attractive qualities rather than classically handsome and hiding a personality that Clint can see himself craving more insight to. Coulson snuck up on him.

He finally speaks when Coulson lifts one eyebrow at him in question, face still fairly blank if not the slightest bit amused. “I might be persuaded to move. If you need him, that is.” He looks down at the man under him before looking back up to Coulson with a grin. “Still needing to see to things yourself?” Though he asks as a friendly hit to Coulson’s new position, the man doesn’t look a bit out of place in the smoky, rough atmosphere. Coulson had been part of the hunt, giving Clint new orders and moving in himself in their secret two-man mission under the one Sitwell had commanded. Coulson is the one who chased their snake into Clint’s trap.

Coulson’s other eyebrow goes up, moving into a look of faux innocence. “A good handler is ready to get down and dirty with the kids if need be.”

Clint has to literally bite his tongue to keep from responding with an innuendo. They just met. He doesn’t want to get on Coulson’s nerves yet. He’s wondering what form he needs to fill out to keep this one when Coulson’s hand reaches out to him. He blinks, taking it and allowing the other man to pull him to his feet with little effort, even with how little help Clint gives him.

Coulson turns it into a handshake, eyes still amused. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Barton. I’m your new handler, Phil Coulson. If you sign the paperwork, anyway.”

Clint shakes Coulson’s hand, gives him his best shit eating grin, and proudly declares, “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

“I didn’t find out until later that the mission before that one wasn’t Phil’s practice run. I was his practice run when he pulled me out of that op gone wrong. Though, there wasn’t any sort of practice to it. He got me out without flaw, that lone shooter being my own fault. No one helped him with that. He ran the recovery all the way back at SHIELD headquarters with Maria in the ship on her way to me. He changed to a handler for me.” He shakes his head. “He didn’t run many ops without me until Fury started having him branch out for the Avengers Initiative.”

“And you never told each other how you felt? All those years?” Steve’s eyes are wide as he realizes just how often they were together. He remembers his own first year living in the tower with Tony. How the close quarters made it almost impossible to hide how he felt. It was barely more than a year before it was too much to hide, though it was long enough to drive everyone crazy.

Clint shrugs with a wry smile. “We were too good at compartmentalizing. Though, over the years after we got together we eventually realized that it wasn’t all that different before. We just didn’t let ourselves read more into our touches or conversations.”

They walk. They set up camp.

“I’ve come to accept that it might make me an ass, but not telling him is what hurt the most. After Loki. It wasn’t the fact that he was killed. It was that he was killed without ever knowing how much…” he takes a shuddering breath, “without knowing how much I loved him.” He holds his hands over the crackling fire.

Peter keeps watch first. He wakes Steve to keep watch after. In the morning, they walk.

“I wasted too much time not defining Nat and I’s relationship.” Bucky gives Clint a consolatory smile. “I lost a few years just letting us be close friends. And then friends who sometimes had sex. I knew we could be more. But I was a coward. For years. I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time. No matter how long we live, I’ll know I wasted time. That’s what bothers me. When I let myself think about it anyway.”

Clint nods. He understands. “To be fair, I think you both needed that time.”

Steve nods. “You both had some things to work through. And you did it together. I don’t know if I would call that wasted time. You were together. Same with you and Coulson, Clint. Just because you never turned it into a romantic relationship, I wouldn’t call that wasted time. You trusted each other. Loved each other. I’m sure words weren’t needed. You showed each other with actions.”

Peter hums. “You’re good at this,” he tells Steve.

Steve huffs in amusement.

It’s a challenging day, going over a large hill to find the other side a shear drop. The cliff face is rough enough that they all make it down without having to pull out ropes, but it’s exhausting. They rest at the bottom before continuing and set up camp a few hours later. Bucky watches. He wakes Clint up later.

In the morning, they walk.

They go hours in silence, pushing themselves the next few days to a point of exhaustion that leaves little energy for talking. Single conversations span days. They leave it up to Clint to mark their breaks, the most human of all of them pushing his limits but refusing to kill himself pushing past them. That would only make things harder for all of them. He knows there’s nothing to prove, his stamina forged through years of tough survival through ops that often ran his body into the ground. Even more so after joining the Avengers. He’s still in peak condition and doesn’t feel bad at all for not being able to keep up with the superhuman men on his team.

After three days of almost continuous traveling, they rest for a day.

Peter laughs himself hoarse, his voice weak after the days of little talking, when Clint gets Steve and Bucky to push him into various positions meant to stretch his clenched muscles and refuse to let up when Clint starts spitting and cursing at them. They stretch, pull, push, and fold Clint until he finally slams his hand on the ground crying ‘Uncle! Uncle! I’ll be fine now you bastards!”

Then Steve sets to massaging the now seizing muscles before they tighten back up. “You big baby. I know you’re more flexible than that.”

Clint only groans. “Not when I’ve already ruined my muscles through days of physical torture.” He groans again when Steve hits a particularly sore spot. “You’re good at this. Not as good as Phil, mind you. But good.”

Steve chuckles. “Phil knows your body better than I do.”

Clint hums. “That he does. You do this for Tony?”

Steve hums an agreement. “He tends to get stiff after a workshop binge. I’ve gotten pretty good at working out the knots.”

Bucky lets out a soft sigh. “Nat has magic fingers.”

Clint grunts in response to a particularly vicious dig of Steve’s fingers before chuckling. “Yeah. She helped me out back in the day. She was the only one who could get my drawing shoulder to loosen up. I stopped going to the headquarters masseuse after I figured that out. She showed Phil how to do it later. You’re a lucky man, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckles. “I return the favor every now and then.”

“Well now I’m feeling left out,” Peter grumbles.

Steve’s head snaps around, a wide grin on his face. “Come here.”

Peter’s eyes go wide, his whole body going tense. He can’t even start to move, only letting out a sharp cry as Steve is suddenly grabbing his ankle and dragging him to a softer area of grass. “No! Dad, stop! I was kidding! Ow!”

Steve, Bucky, and Clint laugh as Steve goes through the same motions he was doing to Clint just moments ago. When he finally decides to let Peter go, he lies on his side next to him with his head propped up on his fist, grinning down at him.

Peter groans into his arm. “I hate you.”

Steve cups his head, pulling it to him to kiss his hair. “I love you too. You’ll thank me tomorrow. Trust me.”

“Where’s my massage? Clint got one.”

Steve chuckles, sitting up. “Yes, sir. Coming right up.”

It’s a short respite from their now constant worry and stress. But it’s enough for now.

Chapter Text

“Fly by in five.” Sam sees Natasha running the same direction he’s flying on the rooftop, trying to shrink the gap between their speeds before he gets there. He can see the building starting to shiver as its internal supports undoubtedly start to give way. He swoops low, meeting her side by the count of five as promised, slowing his speed to almost match hers for the split second it takes for her to reach out for his ankle. He lifts as she reaches, making her jump for it and almost laughs at the curse she spits out at him for doing so.

“Sorry. The section in front of you was weak.” He adjusts for her weight accordingly to keep them in the air as the building she was just on starts to crumble to the ground.

Natasha sees where she was running towards already falling in and understands that if she had stepped on that, she’d have fallen through and would have missed her reach for his ankle. He made her jump at just the right moment. “Good eyes, Wilson.”

Sam rolls his eyes though he’s sighing a mental sigh of relief. “I’ve got her. What’s your twenty?”

“Southeast of you. Rooftop.”

Sam spares a glance down to the woman hanging from one of his boot’s straps. “Sharp turn coming up, Sweetheart. Hold on tight.” He grins, hearing her laugh as she swings around with him in the air, twisting in just the right way to keep them from over-balancing. She’ll never cease to amaze him.

“I see you.” Bucky waves from the roof ahead of them. He visibly widens his stance, his grin more prominent as Sam gets closer. He holds out his arms.

“Making the drop in 3… 2… 1…” The weight leaves his ankle and he lets the sudden weight loss prompt him into a spin as he banks to come back around.

Natasha lands squarely in Bucky’s arms, grin wide with the adrenaline of flying through the air. Their mission is over, so she’s much more carefree than she would be otherwise. “Hey there.”

Bucky chuckles, pecking her on the lips before letting her feet drop to the ground. “Hey there, darlin’.” He grins at Sam when the other lands next to them, wings folding neatly away.

Sam throws a lazy salute. “Package delivered, Sargent.”

Bucky snorts, reaching out to grip the back of Sam’s neck in an affectionate squeeze once he gets close enough. “Thanks for grabbing it for me.”

The building wasn’t supposed to go up so quickly. Natasha was supposed to be able to jump out one of the lower windows to the fire escape next door. However, there had to be weapons hidden inside that caused the miniature explosives to become oversized ignition sparks. There wasn’t a chance to get to a window before flames were everywhere. The stairwell was the only way out and down wasn’t an option, seeing has how that’s where most of the explosives were.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Like you need to thank me.” He pulls Bucky under one arm, Natasha under the other as they start walking to the edge of the roof. “It’s my job to get you guys out of your poorly executed plans.”

Bucky splutters indignantly as Natasha struggles to keep a straight face while jabbing Sam in the side.

He only laughs, hands going up to muss both of their hair before taking off to the fire escape.

“Wilson! Get back here!”

“C’mon grandpa! It’s time to head home!”

“Grandpa? I’ll show you grandpa!”

“Oh yeah? You two shorties think you can take me?”

“Oh, that’s it.” It’s Natasha this time. “I think he needs a reminder of just how fast these ‘shorties’ can lay him out.”

Sam’s chest feels a bit too small for his heart as he runs from two adorably annoyed assassins. But that’s okay. It just means he has room in it for them both.

Sam hums in surprise as Natasha plants herself in his lap. “Well hello there.”

She doesn’t answer, only resting her head against his shoulder as she pulls her legs up and curls in against him.

He doesn’t mind. He wasn’t sleeping either. He knows that she’s usually in this chair, but the first half of the night had been her turn to watch Tony. If she didn’t ask him to move, it’s because she needed the company. She’s never been one to ask for comfort, but she’s always been willing to take it when given. So, all too happy to have a way of giving support, Sam wraps his arms around her and rests his head against the top of hers.

Neither talk for a long time, the night dragging on silently save for a sound from Tony’s work every few odd minutes. They don’t sleep, both knowing the other is awake too, familiar with the breathing patterns that would mean the other has finally found a peaceful rest. To Sam’s surprise, it’s Natasha that breaks the silence.

“You’re warm.”

He chuckles in surprise at such a mundane topic. “The nights get a bit cold here, don’t they?”

She huffs softly into his chest.

Sam makes a thoughtful noise in his throat.

“What?” Her voice is amusedly curious.

He chuckles to himself. “Just… Does James’ arm bother you in the winter?”

Natasha laughs then, bumping her forehead against his neck before answering. “I insist that it doesn’t but he doesn’t believe me. It never really gets ‘cold’. Tony made it so that it stays a fairly human temperature. But sometimes it doesn’t get as warm as the rest of him under blankets where heat is saved. On the coldest nights, he makes sure to wear long sleeves.”

Sam grins. “How gentlemanly of him.”

Natasha snorts. “He seems to think it might trigger my nightmares. But I’ve never seen a correlation.”

“You have nightmares often?” He runs a hand up her back in a comforting sweep.

“No. They’re rare. James seems to have them more. But we both can get a little… dangerous while they’re happening. So we’ve done what we can to minimize the risk of having one.”

A hum of understanding. “Mine can be rough too. I’ve broken bedside lamps a lot by being too close to the table when I lash out.”

Natasha’s hand comes up to close on his jacket. “You deal with them alone?” Suddenly, she thinks of all the mornings she and Bucky had shown up at Sam’s in the early hours to find him already on the couch with a cup of coffee in his hand, the pot almost empty. He's never answered their arrival with anything less than a warm smile and an offer for breakfast.

He shrugs. “I’m not the only one. That’s why I worked at the VA. It helps to have someone to talk to.”

“You could have talked to us,” she murmurs.

Sam tightens his hold on her for a bit as a hug. “It may not have been about my dreams, but you guys happened to come over most mornings after a bad night. It helped to make breakfast for you and relax.”

“You make amazing pancakes.”

“I should have my mama make you some.”

Natasha smiles into his chest. “I’d like that.”

Sam stares out the window of their ship, noting the fading of the stars. The sky is going to get lighter soon. He leans back, setting the heels of his feet carefully up on the control panel to push the chair into a comfortable tilt. He lets out a content hum as his back relaxes and he feels Natasha’s weight relaxed against his front. “Let’s try to get a bit of actual sleep.”

Natasha lets out an answering hum. Then, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“This.” She shrugs in his hold. “It’s… nice.”

Sam doesn’t answer, noting the softness of her voice. She’s finally starting to sink towards sleep. He doesn’t dare ruin it by starting a new conversation. So he closes his eyes, matches his breaths to hers, and finally lets himself fall into a comfortable sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty-six days. Nine hours. Seven minutes.

That’s how long it’s been since the ship crashed. Since the last time Tony heard Steve’s voice. It’s wearing on him.

It’s wearing on all of them.

Silence reigns as the days go by, the only words spoken by Tony or others helping him work on the ship.

Worry is a fist round their throats. Around their lungs. It seems silly to talk about mundane things when their thoughts can barely focus on anything other than the missing members of their family.

The creatures show up again one night, Thor chasing them away with little fanfare. It seems they aren’t keen on starting another fight, no matter how hungry they are.

Everyone pretends they’re not thinking about those creatures hunting their more vulnerable family members as they try to make their way here.

The days pass slowly, Tony eventually moving on to the other side of the ship in order to finally get a few things fixed completely.

Sam keeps his word and runs the diagnostics when Tony starts trying to get things to run. The main power is fixed after a few days under the front console, a few blown fuses and wires from the power surges that flowed from the back of the ship as they were landing. The main computer starts up with little trouble when they finally turn it on for the first time since the crash. The first thing they get re-connected and working is the system checks for the back end of the ship. This allows Sam to finally make a definite list of the things that are in need of repairs for Tony to start zeroing in on.

Natasha helps him understand whatever coding he can’t, having given Tony preferences when building this ship. She is impressed when Sam is as fluent in the readouts as she is by the time they’re done.

Rhodey and Phil help Tony as extra hands more often than not, doing their best to keep their minds busy as well.

It pains Natasha to see a bit of the Phil she would find at the end of a SHIELD work day. Worn and tired in his dim office surrounded by files that need his immediate attention. But this time, she doesn’t have Clint to grab and drop hints at. He was the only one who could get Coulson out of the office on those days. She doesn’t dare tell Phil to take it easy now. He has as much right to work on the ship as the rest of them. It would make her a hypocrite anyway. It’s not like she’s doing much better. But… Sam helps.

Thor has almost become a silent sentinel at the edge of their ship, watching out for them more often than not and moving over to help Tony when his strength, electricity, or height is needed.

They’re a sad bunch.

Rhodey finally asks the big question a couple days into Tony making his list of designated repairs. He notices that there’s been no move to fix their scanner that had undoubtedly kept note of where the other ship was crashing. It’s worrying to say the least. “Tony.”

“Hmm.” Distracted. He doesn’t look up from where he’s digging through wires.

“Why aren’t you fixing the scanner first?” He asks it gently, taking note of the way Tony freezes. “Why aren’t you trying to find them? I thought you wanted to know where they were.”

Tony is silent. His hands start moving again, but his eyes don’t seem to be focused on what he’s doing. It’s minutes before he gives up, hands dropping to hang limply at his sides.

Rhodey waits, patient.

“If we find out where they crashed, Thor will go.” He doesn't look over, his voice barely loud enough for Rhodey to hear.

Rhodey waits for the rest. When nothing more comes, he tries to connect the dots himself. Thor will go. So what are the reasons Tony doesn’t want Thor to go?

They won’t have adequate protection from the monsters.
They’ll have to stay inside more often and Tony won’t be able to work.
Thor will find the crash site.
Thor will…

“You’re afraid he’ll come back with bad news.” It’s barely a breath.

Tony finally turns to him. He swallows tightly before speaking. “You all might have hope they made it. But I…”

Tony has never been able to have hope against undeniable odds. The odds are what tell him whether or not he should even have hope. If it’s a current problem, if it’s something he thinks he can beat or change, he’ll fight and claw his way through until he changes the odds himself. But this… it’s already happened. There's no changing whatever news Thor comes back with.

“I’ll fix it. Eventually, I’ll fix it. When the weight of not knowing gets so heavy I break.” He admits it freely. “Then I’ll be ready to accept the news he returns with.”

Rhodey doesn’t have anything reassuring to say.

They’re silent again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony eventually gets the scanner readouts that were compiling as they were crashing.

No one is surprised when Thor is gone the next morning, against all agreements to stay put.

Chapter Text

"Easy, Capslock. Tone it down a little.”

Steve spins to him, teeth grinding together. “Tone it down?

Tony blinks at him. “You’re acting like I’m the only one who takes chances around here.”

That trips Steve up. “What?”

“You’re telling me that you don’t think Bucky takes chances? Or Nat? Or Clint?”

Bruce walks by in the hall. “Or you!”

Steve sighs, running a hand over his face.

Tony sighs too. “I know you worry about all of us, but you go overboard with me. And I know I make you angry with the chances I take. But Steve… I try. I do. Today I didn’t have any other choice. I’m not going to sit by and watch as people get crushed by something I have a chance of beating. I can’t let things like that happen without… without feeling like I’m being selfish in staying safe.”

Steve looks at him with a crooked smile. “That’s one of the things I like about you, to be honest.”

Tony finally smiles. “Shut up, you love me.”

Steve nods. “Yeah. I do. And that’s what makes it so hard.”

Tony moves closer, hesitantly reaching out to touch Steve’s arm. Sometimes Steve isn’t done being angry just because they talked it out.

Steve doesn’t pull away, but he also doesn’t slide his hand up to take Tony’s or lean into the touch. He’s still on edge.

Tony takes a single step closer, looking up through his lashes to meet Steve’s eyes. “You know I do my best. And I know you worry. The only thing to do would be for me to give up the suit. And I just… I can’t do that. Okay? I want to be out here helping everyone. Helping you. You know I’ve gotten better at listening.”

Steve smiles a little. “You have.”

Tony takes that as a green light and slides his hand down Steve’s arm to take his hand. “I love you. And I do my best. Let me fight the best way I know how?”

Steve sighs, looking down in an attempt to hide his grin. He looks back up to Tony when he looses the battle. “Only if you stop calling me ‘Capslock’. That’s the worst pun you’ve ever come up with.”

“I thought it worked well.”

“Think again.”

“Steve?”

Steve startles, turning to Bucky as he approaches.

“What are you doing out here?”

Steve’s face is tilted up into the rain, the waterproof outer layer of his jacket keeping him dry, but his jeans are obviously soaked through. “I’ve always loved the rain.”

Bucky smiles wryly. “I know. I’d always wanna kick your ass when you were standing in it back Before. We both knew you’d get sick afterwards.”

Steve finally looks to him with a smile. “You never did though. You just made me soup and kept me warm until the shivers had passed.”

Bucky sighs, coming to stand next to him with their elbows touching. “I couldn’t just neglect you. You were like a puppy, shaking like that. A cold, sad little puppy.” He leans closer to nudge his shoulder against his friend’s. He’s glad he stood to his left, liking the warm feeling of arm to arm contact.

“Now it’s my turn to keep you warm,” Steve teases with a sideways grin, knowing exactly what Bucky is doing.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Shut up. It’s not my fault your sugar daddy doesn’t know how to make warm kevlar.”

Steve laughs. They’re quiet for a few minutes. Then, “Do you think they’re doing okay?”

Bucky turns to him. “Steve, don’t do that.”

“I can’t help it,” Steve breathes, turning to him. “Tony said their ship was damaged. What if something happened or the beasts have attacked-“

Bucky reaches up, warm hand gripping the back of Steve’s neck to yank him closer. “Listen to me you little punk. We were hit a lot worse than them. If we could survive our crazy landing, they could survive theirs. And Tony has his armor. Not to mention Thor and Rhodes. They’ll be fine. You hear me? You need to stop letting your mind run in circles like this.”

Steve leans forward, letting out a sigh as his forehead comes to rest on Bucky’s. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I always seem to lose people.”

His friend sighs too, both hands coming up to frame his face. “Stevie. It’ll all be okay. You hear me? We’ll get there, Tony will say ‘What took you so long?’ and you’ll snark back, you’ll fight, and then it’ll be happily ever after.”

Steve huffs out a slight laugh, shaking his head. Their foreheads rub together. Makes him think of cats. “Whatever you say, Bucky Bear.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

A throat clears to their left.

Steve jerks back a little from embarrassment. It’s not often that he has intimate moments with Bucky. He usually keeps them for Tony these days. He looks sheepishly at his son. “Hey, Pete.”

Bucky rubs the back of his neck in his own embarrassment.

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Am I interrupting something?”

Bucky huffs. “Nah. I was just headed out to find some more overhangs that might be protecting wood for a fire when I saw tall, wet, and lonely here staring up into the rain. Steve’s always been a drama queen.” He heads off. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Peter walks up to Steve once he’s gone. He’s never been suspicious of Bucky before now. He loves his uncle. Just as he loves the rest of his family. This scene though… it makes him wonder more about the past. And how much still remains. What might happen on the missions that Tony doesn’t go on.

Steve smiles a little at Peter when he stops before him. “Go on. Let’s get this cleared up.”

Peter huffs out a rueful laugh. “Am I that easy to read?”

“To me and Tony? Yes.”

A soft chuckle. Then, “You always told me Bucky was your best friend. I guess it never really clicked how close you guys were. Even around the house… I’ve never seen that before.”

Steve nods. “Ask me your real question first.”

Peter knows what he means. Looks guiltily at the ground. “Did you guys ever have a history? And does Dad know how… close you guys are? Does Natasha?”

With a nod of his head to the side, Steve leads them under a cluster of trees. “Let’s get more out of the rain.” He crouches to lean his back against a tree. Peter sits against his own tree before he continues. “Do you trust me, Peter?”

Peter’s head jerks up. “What?”

Steve is smiling softly, but it looks pained. “Do you trust me? Not just to love Tony, but also to never hide anything from you guys?”

Guilt washes through Peter, making him wince. “I know you love us. And I know you don’t lie to us.”

Steve nods. “You notice things in a new light when your older. And I know it’s weird to see one of your dads being so… intimate with another person. But Bucky and I… we go back a very long time. He’s like a brother to me. The only family I still had before and after the ice. It’s him that keeps me grounded when we’re on missions and Tony isn’t there, and it’s him I turn to when things are rough and it’s Tony that’s the problem.”

“Dad goes to complain to Pepper about you when you guys fight.”

He grins wryly. “I know. And that’s okay because he knows I go to Bucky. It’s a time for us to say things we don’t mean and keep it from being at each other. On missions, Bucky and I fall back to how it was during the war.”

Peter nods. “When it was just you guys and the commandos?”

Steve nods too. “We often sat apart from the group some nights. We needed each other a little more than the rest needed us. Bucky kept me focused and I kept him from reliving whatever happened to him while he was captured. But there was never anything more with us.”

Peter nods. “I believe you.”

Steve smiles a little. “Sure, we’re a little more affectionate than most platonic friendships. Touch means a lot to a man with only one flesh and blood hand, and a man who was stuck in a block of ice for 70 years. Though it felt like a blink in time, I still felt alone afterwards. Like my body knew how long it had been even if I didn’t. But even before that, we had no illusions that our definition of personal space was a little skewed. But it’s not… what Tony and I have always had.”

He tilts his head. “If it wasn’t illegal then … I might have thought about it. I’ve always known Bucky could appreciate men just as well as women, though he never acted on it either. But even then… even with the possibility now, rather, I don’t feel the need to change anything. To go deeper. Not like I did after becoming friends with Tony. Tony really gets to me like no one else does.”

Peter grins a little sheepishly, recognizing the look that rises in Steve’s eyes. He always only sees that look when Steve is thinking about Tony. He understands. Steve loves Bucky. A lot. But Tony… he’s on another level in a new way and with a level of abandon that only comes with romantic love. “I’m sorry I was so suspicious.”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t blame you. When Bucky came back, it took a lot of convincing to make Tony believe I wasn’t going to leave him for my long lost friend. I know I was trailing after Bucky like a puppy and I’m sure my adoration was evident. I still don’t think he believed me until Bucky got together with Natasha. And that was after we were married!”

Peter laughs. “That sounds like Dad.”

Steve winks. “I love Bucky, but I’m madly in love with Tony. I wouldn’t have stayed with him as long as I have if I wasn’t. I wouldn’t have married him. I wouldn’t have convinced him to adopt a wayward orphan and convince him he’d be an amazing father.” He reaches out, taking Peter’s hand and squeezing it. “Bucky and I can be affectionate. But nothing is getting between me and my husband.”

Peter nods with a small smile. “Okay.”

“I love you. And Tony. Okay?”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Steve pulls him to his side, throwing his arm over his shoulders and holding him close. He’s glad their son never got too old to tell them he loves them, though it may be because of their dangerous lifestyle and the fact that there’s no guarantee that they’ll get another day. He’ll take what he can get.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been a month.

They’ve settled into a routine by now. Walk. Keep an eye out for those monsters that attacked them. Rest. Eat. Walk. Set up camp for the night. Eat. One or two keep watch while the others sleep. Wake up and do it all over again. By the data in their phones (which are ticking down in battery each time they turn them on) they're more than halfway there. Each day the weight of traveling gets just a bit lighter, though the weight of not knowing what awaits them gets heavier.

It’s quiet more often than not now, not having much to talk about other than what they think the weather is about to do or whether or not they’ve noticed anything following them. So far, anything they’ve heard have been keeping their distance. It should be reassuring, but Bucky can’t keep the deep frown from his face anytime they’re discussing it.

“I just feel like they’re waiting. Watching us. Trying to figure out how they could break our defenses.”

It’s troubling to say the least. They have no idea how smart the creatures are.

On a lighter note, Steve is well on his way to growing a beard and Peter can’t help but find it hilarious.

“You look weird with a beard.”

“Thanks, Pete.”

“You look older.”

“Ouch.”

“More Dad’s age.”

Clint’s laugh is loud and long.

Bucky is trying to quell a grin, looking away when Steve glares at him.

Peter shrugs sheepishly when Steve finally turns back to him. “What? Dad looks young for his age, but you always look super young.”

Steve sighs. “Don’t say that around him. He was always paranoid about that. What it might look like to other people.”

Clint looks to Steve incredulously. “Really? The great Tony Stark worried about some wrinkles?”

Steve chuckles. “Just because he acts like he’s okay, doesn’t mean he is.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “We all know that. But really? Why would he worry about that?”

Steve blushes a little.

Peter stops walking. “Oh God. Do I need to cover my ears?” He jogs to catch back up to them.

Steve snorts. “No, no. I just… he was worried he couldn’t be enough for me. That I should be with someone younger.”

“Age is just a number, buddy.” Clint smirks at him. The bit of difference between him and Phil would sometimes cause Coulson’s insecurities to rear their ugly heads. Drowning them with hours of worshiping kisses is his favorite thing. “You and Tony are too perfect to worry about that. I’m glad you got him to pull his head out of his ass. Your days of pining were long and memorable.”

Steve turns to stare at him. “Pining?”

Clint leans over to Peter conspiratorially, his voice in faux whisper. “They did the ‘look when the other isn’t looking’ thing. And fought all the time. The tension was unbearable the week before they snapped. I don’t think they’ve ever let up after that.”

Peter holds up a hand. “As much as I’m glad they love each other, I don’t need to hear anymore.”

Bucky laughs.

They stop to camp for the night not long after, tarp up and fire lit in perfect order. Steve looks across the fire to Clint as they heat up their MREs for the night, eyes narrowing at the difference starting to show. He pulls a second one out of his stash, ignoring the curious glance Bucky gives him. When Peter moves away to lay down and Bucky goes to get more wood, Steve moves closer to Clint. “Hey.”

Clint looks up from his empty food tray, expression lightening with obvious force. “What’s up, Cap?”

“I know we said to ration things out, but you look like you could use another.” He hands over the second meal he pulled out earlier. They've all been eating only two meals a day, keeping themselves strong enough to travel while also rationing it out. It's worrying how few meals they have left. How light their packs are.

Clint takes it in shock, staring down at it before moving to give it back. “I-”

“I already warmed it up. You should eat it before it gets cold.” He meets Clint’s eyes when he looks up from the food again.

Clint shakes his head. “I shouldn’t need any more than the rest of you,” he murmurs, looking over to where Peter is laying.

Steve shakes his head. “I notice things. Peter doesn’t call me Mom just to tease me. You pack calories in as much as I do when I’m home. For me, it’s like stocking up. My metabolism can drop dramatically when I suddenly stop eating, and as long as I’ve stayed healthy before, that won’t hurt me for a while. But you need this. You have a pretty high metabolism, don’t you?”

Clint sighs, but nods. He starts eating the food, talking between bites. “Phil had to create a pretty strict protein diet for me. Especially when I was younger. I don’t train to keep my weight in shape. It’s to keep muscle. I’m pretty lanky when I’m not trying.”

Steve notices the length between bites. How Clint is trying to make it last. Not unlike how he lived himself while he was growing up. “There’s no shame in weaknesses that come from the body.”

Clint gives him a wry look. “Fair enough. You would know, right?”

Steve gives him a small grin. “Bucky would always give me extra food. It’s my turn. I’ll be okay, Bucky is like me, and Peter has his own rations and looks just like he always does. If you need more, you tell me. Okay? We’re going to keep each other safe. Not let each other starve. I know it's not that bad yet, but I don't want you getting weaker with hunters like those creatures out there. I want you to be able to protect yourself and us.”

Clint nods, looking down at his meal. “Y’know… I think Tony picked the best MREs out there. These are better than some I’ve had before.”

Steve chuckles, letting the moment pass. “Tony doesn’t believe in forcing anyone to eat gross food. He’s helping develop some better meals for the government to start using.”

Clint nods. “Good use of his time.”

Steve laughs again. “I’m inclined to agree. I’ll see what he can do about raising the calorie and protein content in some of them. Just make a list of your favorites when we get home.”

Clint nods. “Thanks, man.”

Steve rests his hand on the back of Clint’s neck, squeezing once before sliding to his shoulder and using it to stand. He grins at Clint’s grumble at being used as a crutch. “G’night, Clint.”

A soft huff of a laugh. “Night, Cap.”

Chapter Text

“Clint.”

“Agent Coulson.”

“How did you get in to my office?”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “Everyone and their mother knows how I get places. It’s common knowledge that-”

“The vents here are too small. Fury chose them specifically. Give me the key.”

Clint pouts but tosses Phil the key card. “You knowing everything is a killjoy.”

It’s not that Clint isn’t allowed in his office. He has enough clearance, of course. It’s just that if Phil wants to be able to get anything done, keeping Clint out of his office is usually the first step. Walking around the desk, Phil pushes his currently occupied rolling chair out of his way, watching amusedly as Clint poses as Superman until it stops. “Is that so?” He logs on to his computer.

Clint drops the pose. “Yes. You ruined your own surprise party.”

A chuckle. “I told you not to try to surprise me.”

“You knew about Steve and Tony before the rest of us. Even me!”

“I can’t help who I walk in on.”

“And-” A pause. “Wait. You saw Steve and Tony…?”

Phil winces. Shrugs. Won’t look over. “Jarvis doesn’t let anyone off on a floor where either one is naked now.”

“You saw them naked?!”

Phil sighs fondly, looking over. “A hazard of being the handler of the Avengers who happen to be sex fiends and unable to return my calls.”

Clint stares, mouth hanging open. Then, “Was it hot?”

Phil blinks. “Yes.” If not awkward. Turning back to his computer, he does his best not to smile at the strangled sputtering sounds coming from beside him. It’s difficult. “Why are you here again?” He prints off some papers, turning and leaning his hip against his desk as he waits for it to finish. “Besides stealing my chair.”

Clint gets serious. “Well… if I can stand up to the hotness that is Captain America and Tony Fucking Stark… I was wondering if you were free for a date tonight.” He shrugs, looking down under the weight of self-consciousness creeping in. “It’s been a while.”

Phil smiles softly. Doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how someone who pulls confidence on like a well-tailored suit can be so insecure. “I don’t know about standing up to them.”

Clint looks up, eyes disbelieving and quickly turning sad.

“Surpassing, maybe.” He smiles at Clint’s huge sigh. He’s not even stretching the truth. To him? Clint is the most beautiful sight in the world.

So he’s a bit cheesy. He feels like he has a right to be anything he wants after almost dying.

“You’re an ass, Phil.” Clint scowls but still takes the hand offered to him and lets it pull him to his feet.

“Clint Barton. Do I seem like a person who would go through the effort of dating someone who is still 'technically' under my authority, part of a superhero team who can’t take directions, and does his best to drive me up the wall if I wasn’t wholly and implicitly in love with them?” He reaches up to scratch lightly on the back of Clint’s neck, fingers playing in the short hairs there.

Clint blinks, eyes going wide as the last three words echo inside his head. It’s a rare thing that Phil says them. He’s a man of few words. “I love you too.” The end of the sentence is lost in a deep kiss, pulling a (totally manly, shut up) whine from deep in his chest. His arms wrap around Phil’s waist.

Phil smiles when they part. “I have paperwork that needs to be done. But if you order food and want to finish the poor excuse for paperwork your team mates turn in, you can stay and we’ll have a partial date night.”

“You’re a slave driver, Phil.” He’s smiling though.

Phil chuckles. “Take it or leave it, Barton. Fury is very generous towards us. Let’s not test him too much.”

Clint’s yes narrow, never having forgiven Fury for the stunt he pulled. Having found out only AFTER the battle of New York that Phil was dead and the next months where they were all left believing that fact is a sore spot that isn’t likely to heal soon. “I’m not worried about Fury.”

Phil doesn’t comment on the subconscious movements of Clint’s hand to where the scar on his back is. Bull’s-eye even through his clothes. Doesn’t think Clint even notices he does it. “Still. Paperwork needs to be done.” He kisses Clint softly. “And your help is always appreciated.”

He sighs. “Alright. But if Tony didn’t fill his-”

“He didn’t.”

“Damnit Stark!"

Phil turns towards Natasha, knowing she’s there though she makes no sound on her approach. “How are you doing?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

He nods. “I’m-”

“Don’t say you’re okay.”

Phil appreciates the disapproval in her tone. He knows he can’t fool her. His shoulders drop. “I know why Clint holds such a grudge against Fury.”

“Payback’s a bitch, huh?” She settles next to him.

Phil nods. “Not knowing if he’s alive is bad enough. Thinking I was dead must have been hell. I mean… he’s told me. You all told me. And I saw him when I walked into the room that day. But… it’s different than knowing.”

“Tony has footage. Jarvis is always watching. But when I told him you wanted to know how bad it was, he wouldn’t let me show you. He said he deleted it. But you and I both know he never fully deletes anything.”

Coulson nods. “If it wasn’t so ingrained into me to keep it together during a mission…”

“But this isn’t a mission.” Natasha touches his arm. “You know none of us expect you to be superhuman, right? We’re the ‘Super Heroes’, and look at us. I’m…” she sighs, “Barely sleeping, unable to focus. Sam is getting quieter and is starting to fray at the edges; which is starting to become... extremely concerning, considering his usual personality. Tony isn’t sleeping at all until he drops from exhaustion and can’t keep from focusing mindlessly on his work. Thor is wallowing in guilt. Then there’s Rhodey… between his anxiety for Tony and his worry over our lost…” She smiles a little though it barely passes for one. “We’re all a mess. Join the club.”

Coulson nods. He rubs at his eyes. “I can’t let myself break down. Not yet.”

Natasha understands. It’d feel too much like giving up. “You know we’re all here. Just don’t try to shoulder all of this yourself.”

“I know. I just want to wait a little longer. Give them some more time.”

She understands. Hoping a little longer will keep him from finally giving up sooner. It's a double edged sword. Hope can sometimes end up hurting more than the pain of letting go.

“Speaking of Thor…”

Natasha hums. “Nothing yet. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Whether or not the news is good.”

Coulson nods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thor returns after being gone for four days.

Even with his ability to fly, it took time to get there, find the ship, scour the area, and find his way back. He flew slower than his fastest possible speed, unwilling to miss anything that could give him a hint as to what’s happened to his missing family members. Unfortunately, he doesn’t return with many answers. He sits at the table in the middle of the room, eyes empty as they stare at the parts strewn across the surface as he tries to figure out what to say.

Tony has been bringing work inside at night since no one wanted to be out there without Thor to fight with them. It’s not worth taking the risk with such large and powerful creature out there. They’ve all gathered around the table now, waiting with baited breath though no one is brave enough to prompt Thor to start talking.

It’s a few minutes before he speaks. “The ship was in… many pieces.”

Sam lets out a hiss.

“However, from what I could tell, it was as much of a controlled landing as could be expected from such a dire situation.” He looks to Tony. “I have brought back anything that looked like it might be useful in fixing up our own ship. It’s outside.”

Tony nods once.

It’s Natasha who’s brave enough to ask. Of course it is. The question that breaks the silence causes a ripple of flinches and shudders. “Were there bodies?”

Coulson mutters a curse.

Sam grimaces. “Shit, Nat.”

Her eyes don’t leave Thor.

Thor shakes his head. “No.”

A collective sigh explodes out of the group, shoulders dropping and spines relaxing. Coulson pulls out a chair to sit and lets his forehead fall into his hands. “Oh my god.”

Rhodey reaches out from where he’s standing behind him to grip his shoulder in solidarity.

Sam reaches out with one hand to squeeze Natasha's as he falls back to lean against the wall with a weak groan, other hand coming up to press into his eyes.

Tony’s hands shake. He sinks them into his pockets. “Steve…”

“He wasn’t there either.” Thor tries to give him a smile. “I looked through every piece of wreckage. I worried at first that those creatures could have…” he winces, “taken them. But it looked as if supplies were gathered and they moved away to make a camp. I found what looked like the remnants of a fire. After that… it’s been too long. There was nothing. I searched for them. For a sign. I can only hope they’re on their way here. That they’re going the right way. I saw nothing on my way back.”

Sam nods. “That makes sense. Even if you did pass over them, neither of you would see each other if they were in an area like this. The trees get pretty thick.”

Everyone looks out the window of the ship, eyeing the tall trees that surround their clearing.

Coulson finally speaks again. “Even if they didn’t get any information about the planet from their ship, I’m sure Steve’s memory is good enough to keep them in the right direction. Our ship had enough time to give us the information on where they landed before the data cuts off. I’m sure they have a vague idea of where we were heading to land too.”

Natasha nods. “I’ve seen what his memory can do.”

Tony finds it in himself to chuckle. “I’ve had him look through specs before and draw them from memory. Just for fun.” They were framed and hung in their room, testaments to both Steve’s artistic abilities and impressive intellect. They look like nonsense blueprints, abstract pieces, to anyone who didn’t know what they were. Only Tony and Steve knew they were a macro view of the inner components of the arc reactor.

“I can’t help but wonder if it would have been better for me to have looked for them sooner,” Thor murmurs.

Phil hums. “Could have’s. Should have’s. They’re all impossible to fix. You can’t dwell on them. We had no idea where they were. Where to start looking. They could have started traveling before you made it to the ship and had disappeared just like they are now. They know what to do. They’re resourceful. We need to trust they’ll get to us.”

“And…” Tony has to clear his throat before continuing, “we needed you.” He meets Thor’s eyes seriously. “You were a big help in the first few days. It would have taken us longer to pull some of those parts out without your help.”

Thor nods in understanding. “Very well.” He visibly tries to rouse himself and motions to the door. Knowing they weren’t dead on impact, knowing they had a chance, makes him feel a bit less like a failure. “Would you like to look through what I brought? Is there anything you’ve been waiting for me to get back to do?”

Tony visibly perks up, standing and leading Thor outside, already rambling about what he was wanting to get done next.

Sam lets out another relieved sigh, pulling Natasha into his arms. He needs a hug, damn it.

Natasha goes easily, arms going tightly around his ribs. She's grinning, unable to quell her own relief.

Rhodey lets out a soft laugh. “That’s one weight gone, huh?”

Coulson runs his hands down his face. “Fuck.”

Sam snorts. “That about sums it up, yeah.”

The absence of bodies is all they needed for hope to raise to an acceptable level again. They all feel more confident in the possibility that their missing family members will make it back to them. They’re out there. They have to be.

“They’ll make it back,” Sam murmurs to the top of Natasha's head. His voice is loud in the quiet room. His arm tightens around Natasha’s waist as she lays her head against his shoulder. “That’s four of the most stubborn people I know working together. There’s no such thing as failure to them.”

Natasha nods, pressing her forehead into his shoulder. “I’ll accept that as a valid point seeing as how stubbornness has literally played a massive role in many of our missions where things have gone wrong.”

Rhodey chuckles. “If there’s anything I have learned from Tony and Steve, it’s that ‘stubborn’ is a weapon, not a word.”

Phil smiles, thinking of Clint. “’Determination’ is a strike, not a feeling.”

Natasha snorts softly at her cheesy family, but can’t help joining in. Bucky taught her, “’Love’ is a strength-”

“Not a weakness,” Sam interrupts, arms sliding even tighter around her to engulf her in his larger frame as he rocks her back and forth. “Girl, I’m so proud of you. Bucky will be so proud of you.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, though she can’t help but smile into his chest and bask in the warmth of his affection. Yeah, maybe Sam had something to do with her believing that too.

Chapter Text

Bucky grins down at Sam when his eyes finally open in the dim light of their current situation, fingers twitching where they’re resting against the pulse point in his neck. “Hey, sleeping beauty. Finally decided to wake up, huh?” It’s said lightly, like the past hour hadn’t been one of the worst hours of his life. Like he hadn’t been praying to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in for Sam to just open his goddamn eyes already. He couldn’t tell if any of the cuts on Sam’s head were from hard impacts without Sam awake to tell him what hurt. Paired with the gash in his stomach, the longer time stretched on without him waking up, the more panicked Bucky felt.

Sam groans, letting his eyes fall closed again. “What happened?”

Bucky feels his chest relax, now secure in the knowledge that Sam was coherent and waking up enough to ask questions. The pulse strengthening under his fingers helps assuage those worries as well. “We had a little oopsie on the roof, remember?”

Sam blinks his eyes open again, taking in the rubble and destroyed walls around them. There’s just enough light coming in from somewhere above them that he can see that they’re trapped inside what looks to be part of a stairwell, said stairs having been crushed and broken off about halfway up by the wall falling in. He groans when he remembers the blast that had sent them careening from the roof in the middle of a battle against a disgruntled man who obviously had way too many years to stew over how the world has wronged him. Between his robot army and the firepower he had created for himself, it wasn’t an easy fight. “Why is it always robots?”

Bucky manages a grin at Sam’s dismay. It was a spectacular shot, hitting them before either of them could register the coming danger. Sam didn’t even get to open his wings, though it was just enough time for Bucky to snag Sam’s pack with his metal hand. That was the only reason they were waking up together instead of buried under separate piles of the building. After Sam's hit to the head, Bucky had been the one who controlled their decent as much as possible into whatever place looked sturdy enough not to fully collapse. It was a hard landing on the stairs, though.

“Natasha is never going to let us live this down,” Sam whines.

Bucky snickers, finally letting his shoulders loosen. It’s okay. Sam’s going to be okay. “How do you feel? You sound alright. You’re not slurring your words. Do you think you have a concussion?” His hands move to prod at Sam’s head where it’s resting on his thighs, moving down to his neck after.

Sam hums. “I don’t think so. My head feels fine.” He moves his limbs around, grunting when pain sparks up his torso. “Oh. Ow. Hello.”

Bucky lays a hand against his chest with a huff. “Stay still. I had to tie my jacket over a nasty gash in your stomach. It isn’t deep enough for anything to be punctured so it should be okay until they get here.” He wasn’t so sure about that before, with the worrying way Sam’s pulse had kept dropping. It finally seems like the jacket was doing its job and keeping him from losing even more blood. “They already know where we are. They finished up a little bit ago and are about to start digging us out. I’m waiting for word from them. Had them close the line so I didn’t have to keep hearing them plan while I was stabilizing you.”

Sam groans, the pain in his stomach is becoming acknowledged by his body now and is reminding him of its presence with every beat of his heart. “Why didn’t you get started on the dig?” He tries to distract himself, eyeing the hole up at the top of the stairwell. It was a long way up and blocked by beams and pieces of wall, but Bucky could have climbed up there if he tried hard enough.

Clenching his jaw, Bucky looks away. “I didn’t want to leave you down here on your own. You were losing a lot of blood.”

Sam’s quiet. His hand moves up to rest on Bucky’s where it’s still settled on his chest. “Well, it seems like whatever you did helped enough.”

Bucky meets his eyes, returning the soft smile aimed up at him. “Good.”

“Check in.” Natasha’s voice breaks through the silence then, making Sam flinch from the sudden voice in his ear and starting up a string of curses as it makes the pain in his stomach flair up again. She chuckles in their ears. “Well, it sounds like Sam’s awake.” Though her tone is light, there’s no mistaking the relief in her voice.

Bucky sighs, soothing Sam with brushes of his flesh hand against his chest as the tries to get him to lay still again. “It’d still be nice to get out of here,” he grunts.

“We’re coming, Robocop. T-minus one minute.” Tony’s voice in their ear is gently amused. “Keep our bird of prey from hurting himself, yeah?”

Bucky smirks down at Sam’s rolling eyes. “Always.”

Peter sits next to Steve, watching their daylight fade. “It’s okay to talk about it with me too, you know? I know I’m supposed to be the kid here, but I’m not the baby anymore.” He's worried. Every day each of them get quieter. More withdrawn. He doesn't know how to help Clint and Bucky. But... as Steve's son, Peter feels like there has to be something he can do. Even if it's just to listen.

Steve nods a little. “I know. I guess it’s just a father protective instinct. To keep my son away from pain, fear, and all the other ugliness of the world. But we failed at that a while ago, didn’t we?”

Peter frowns. “Nothing that happened to me was your fault. And besides,” Peter mutters vehemently, “You, Dad, and the rest of this family are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Steve smiles a little. “Yeah?”

Peter turns to him, smiling too. “Yeah. So…?”

Steve is silent for a moment, but eventually answers, “I just feel like no matter how fast we move, we’ll never get there.”

Peter nods. “I feel you. I mean, I can’t understand completely. I just miss my dad. But that’s different from him being who you’ve chosen to love, huh?” He leans against Steve’s shoulder with his own. “Losing Dad would hurt. But for you…”

Steve flinches. “They’re okay. They have to be.”

Peter looks over the distance they still need to cover as he blinks away tears. He hopes for his father’s sake, that his other father is okay. Seeing Steve break… that would ruin him just as much as his own pain of losing one of his dads.

“We’ll get there. I promise.”

The two turn to Bucky.

“All of us will make it. I promise on my life.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Bucky,” Peter mutters, thinking of the creatures they were all constantly watching for. “This planet doesn’t have respect for anyone’s life.”

Bucky sighs, quirking a grin. Leave it to the kid to not pull his punches. “C’mon, Starks. Let’s get to bed. We have another long day tomorrow.”

Clint looks up as they walk back into the overhang they’ve chosen for the stopping point tonight. “We shouldn’t have much farther to go. We’re over halfway according to the landmarks we’re following. Maybe even closer depending on how far the distance in the empty spaces really is. Which is good. My phone's almost down to fifteen percent.”

Bucky's phone died weeks ago.
Peter's phone died a few days ago.
Clint's is all they have left.

Steve nods. “I know. I think that’s what’s making me impatient.”

Peter chuckles. “Yeah, me too.”

Clint slides the food he had started heating up over to the others and they all sit down to eat as the last of their daylight fades away. “Do you think they’ve got the ship fixed yet?”

Bucky shrugs. “Maybe. Depends on how bad the damage is. Tony doesn’t mess around but if you add on Nat and Sam to help him run diagnostics, it should make for easier work. They work well together.” He sighs. “God, I miss them.”

Clint chuckles. “Sam’s gonna be pissed. He said it was his turn to save you the next time something bad happens. I’m sure staying at the ship is killing him.”

Bucky smiles softly. The back and forth that seemed to happen between them when it comes to mission catastrophes has always astounded the whole team. Though no one kept score of who saved who, somehow Sam and Bucky always went back and forth. Sam got hurt. Then Bucky. Then Sam. It was something that always created a sense of amusement which raised spirits just a little in the middle of those bad circumstances. The last time one of them was hurt, it was Sam bleeding out in a stairwell. It definitely is his turn to save Bucky.

Peter eyes Bucky curiously, noting something about that smile that reminds him of- He blinks, staring as the smile slowly fades from Bucky’s face. That was the same smile he teased him about after their crash. The smile he said he saw whenever Bucky was thinking about Natasha.

Clint adds more wood to the fire as they all start bedding down. “Who’s turn is it? I forget.”

Peter breaks out of his thoughts, raising a hand. “Mine.”

Steve nods. “I take over afterwards.”

Clint yawns, laying down. “Cool. I’m tired. Goodnight. Stay awake. Don’t let the forest monsters bite.”

Peter snorts, rolling his eyes. Yeah, his family is a bit odd and definitely unconventional. It’s still the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bucky, wake up.”

That’s all it’s ever taken for Bucky’s eyes to snap open in the middle of the night. He’s heard that sentence too many times to count. Pushing himself up, he turns to see Steve staring into the dark by the dim light of the remaining embers. Then he notices Steve’s fingers are curled around his shield. Eyes moving up his back, he takes in the rigid spine and tight shoulders. This is The Captain. Not Steve.

“What is it?”

“They’re out there again. Moving around.”

Bucky takes stock of his surroundings, anxiety lowering dramatically when he realizes he and Steve are still between their two more vulnerable members and the opening of their little alcove. “You have a count?”

Steve nods minutely. “Two so far.” His head tilts. “Maybe three. Do you think we should stay here?”

Bucky sighs. “Being cornered is never good, but in these woods, it might be helpful to have something at our back.”

“I know I feel safer.”

Bucky flinches, turning to glare at the suddenly awake Clint at his side and hiss a sharp, “Damnit Barton!”

Clint cracks a small grin. “Never fails.”

Steve looks over to Peter. He sighs. “You should probably wake him up.” It’s said reluctantly, a father hating to wake his son when he’s had so little sleep. They hadn't switched places that long ago.

Clint nods. “If they get closer. They might just keep following us.”

Steve frowns. “Keep following us?”

Clint nods again, eyes scanning the surrounding darkness now. “Noticed them the past few nights. Each night they get closer. I think we’ve moved into a new territory. They seem to be curious. These aren’t the ones we’ve fought before.”

“Damn,” Bucky growls. “That means they aren’t the ones we taught a lesson to last time.”

A nod from Clint. “They’ve been scoping us out. Deciding whether we were worth attacking. I’m assuming they were leaning towards a ‘Yes’ since they’ve been getting bolder.”

“How many have you seen?” Steve asks, sliding his shield on his arm.

Clint presses his lips together in a grim frown as he makes a mental tally of the possible number. “Maybe twelve. It’s hard to tell which ones I’m seeing more than once since they all look the same from a distance.”

Steve’s upper lip curls in disdain. “Shit. That’s a lot.”

A nod. “It’s a big pack.”

Bucky swears and goes over to Peter when there’s movement nearby. “Hey, bud.” He rubs a hand comfortingly over the youngest’s shoulder when he jerks awake. “Sorry.”

Peter groans as he rubs over his eyes. “It’s okay. What’s up?”

“We’ve got movement. Captain says we need to be prepared.”

Peter nods, sitting up and readying himself at Bucky’s use of ‘Captain’. He pulls out a tougher jacket from his bag, zipping it up and pulling the pair of reinforced gloves on that Bucky hands him though he gives him a curious look.

Bucky’s face is grim. “We’re going to need your help this time.”

“What’s the call, Cap?” Clint ready’s his bow. “They’re getting closer. I think they’re done waiting.”

Steve scans the area. “We should stay here. They may think they have us cornered, but they were more dangerous when we were out in the open where they could circle us.”

Bucky nods, pulling a knife and letting it roll through his fingers before handing it to Peter. He spots the first pair of eyes as he’s pulling his largest knife from its sheath. “Everyone ready?”

“I was born ready,” Peter grumbles, shaking out his arms.

Steve almost smiles. “Prove it.”

When it happens, it happens quickly.

This pack isn’t like that last small group. They’re bigger. Possibly older and more experienced. They move in fast and strike hard, no warning or stalking like the ones before. In seconds, the men are separated from each other without even realizing it’s happening in attempts to dodge attacks and keep their backs from being open.

Like a heard of antelope separated by a pride of lions, the four of them are driven away from each other with what can only be calculated strikes and are quickly driven into a nearby field instead of staying safely against their overhang. The huge bodies are constantly slinking out of the darkness, lunging out before slinking away again as another comes just behind them to replace the previous. It makes it almost impossible to really count how many there are. There’s an obvious team effort from the whole pack, something intelligent enough to be concerning.

There are five monsters in the clearing with them when there’s a pause, countless other pairs of eyes glowing at the tree line. Clint’s eyes make note of every one, gritting his teeth as one at his side suddenly lunges and he twists away. This… is going to be a very long fight.

Peter has been using every trick he can to keep out of reach from the claws and teeth snapping at him. The gloves are helpful, adding to his swings in deflecting snapping jaws as he strikes out with the knife in his other hand. He’s the last driven into the field, having tried to stay up in a tree before a larger one had been able to jump into the lower branches and drive him out. As the smallest of the group, it’s easy to see that these monsters have decided that he’s the most vulnerable target. He hasn’t had a second to breathe since the first attack, his spider senses the only thing having kept him alive for this long. As soon as he’s landing into a roll at the edge of the field, he’s leaping over one as another comes from the side. A third goes for him as he spins from the second right into its trajectory.

Clint cries out a warning and Bucky barely manages to get close enough in time to kick that one away.

Peter gasps out a quick, “Thanks!” before he’s fending off yet another one.

“Stay close,” Bucky grunts in reply. It’s useless, three more leaping from the darkness to drive them apart seconds later. Bucky spits curses as he’s forced to duck and roll the opposite of Peter when two come at him the same time but manages to stab one in the leg as he slides by.

This must break its original plan as it spins to come at him with jaws wide open instead of following its companions back into the shadows. It’s a fatal mistake. Bucky manages to dodge the attack and force its head away with his metal arm while sliding his blade up under the throat with his other. He grins in triumph as it collapses on the ground to die a slow death.

One down.

Steve has been relying on brute force the whole time, his shield keeping him safe from claws as his fist deflects the snapping jaws. He has barely beaten one down to unconsciousness (if not death) before he’s turning to another.

It goes minutes like this, twisting and turning before striking back whenever they can. The creatures rotate out, more slinking from the shadows as the fight rages on and their own forces start to tire. It’s grueling, only made worse by the weeks of minimum calorie intake stacked on top of constant travel and little rest. The four men are quickly driven into a wave of exhaustion that’s been building for what’s felt like days. Though the bodies of the creatures keep piling up around the field, there’s no telling when it might actually end.

“This is a huge pack!” Clint cries as he uses his bow to beat one back.

Steve grits his teeth as he fires his own attack, leaping at one that’s heading towards him to drive his shield into its neck. He hears something snap whey they hit the ground and makes sure to add more force from their fall into his arms. With a choked off cry, the beast dies beneath him. Gasping, Steve stands to survey their situation. It looks bleak. Especially when one of the creatures stop in front of him.

It’s one of the biggest he’s seen, scars standing out against its black, mangy fur. He wonders, vaguely, if this is the pack’s alpha. If this is the mastermind behind the calculated attacks. The glowing eyes seem to catch his every move as Steve immediately starts his own attack, never letting him manage to land a hit. Just like the others, this creature strikes before retreating, but this one never fully disappears again. Instead, it waits for one of his other pack members to distract Steve before going at him again. Multiple times, it manages to get Steve to the ground before it’s driven away again by a kick to the ribs or a punch to the nose. Steve groans as he stands for the third time, shaking his head to clear it after the most recent collision with the ground.

It has to be the alpha of the pack, Steve decides. Now that this beast’s attacks are focused on him, most of the other creatures have concentrated their attacks on him as well, probably having decided that Steve must be the alpha of their own group. One after the other they come at him and he barely has a chance to deflect them or send them off to Bucky before another is emerging from the shadows or the alpha is taking him down yet again. When they finally face each other in a lull, they’re both heaving for air. The difference is that Steve has been taking damage, blood spotting his clothes from open cuts and bones aching from hard collisions with the ground while the creature has managed to make it mostly unscathed. Steve wishes he had his uniform. It really takes the brunt of hits he takes in fights.

Off to the side, Clint grunts as claws manage to slide through the soft skin at his bicep, making him drop his bow in that hand from the shock of pain. He’s left open for the next attack, though his hands are already turning to fists as he readies himself to fight as best he can without a weapon.

Peter appears between them, foot striking out to collide with the creature’s head. “Get your bow back!” It's obvious he's been having a rough time, his jacket tattered and blood-speckled. He's been taking the strikes from clawed feet when teeth were coming at him at the same time, allowing the lesser of two evils when avoiding only one was possible. He leads the current attacker away as Clint dives for his bow, letting out a cry as he almost doesn’t lean away from the teeth heading towards him in time. Instead of his shoulder, it snags the neck of his jacket. Peter twists out of it as it’s yanked away, dropping the knife in his hand before he rolls on the ground to grab it again, coming up behind the creature and leaping onto its back. The knife sinks into its shoulder instead of the neck Peter was aiming for when it jumps in an attempt to throw him off. With a curse, Peter can only hold on as it starts to twist and jerk beneath him.

Steve glances over, panic spiking as he sees the struggle Peter is having. Bucky is busy. So is Clint, yet another monster having emerged from the shadows. Steve needs to take care of his own adversary quickly if he wants to get over to the other side of the field before the beast gets smart and rolls to get Peter off.

But… trying to keep an eye on Peter costs him.

The alpha leaps.

There’s a fire in Steve’s side and he’s flat on his back in a single blink, gasping in surprise and pain. It burns. Dear God it burns, red heat flowing from his side as he can only gasp at the sky. Precious seconds wasted as his mind and body try to catch up with what’s happened.

“Steve!” Bucky lunges at the creature as it’s turning back to go at Steve again, leaping to collide with it and send them both tumbling away. He curses when he’s kicked off in the scuffle, the creature ultimately disappearing back into the shadows.

Steve barely makes it up to a sit, hand tightly covering the tear in both his clothes and the flesh in his side. It does little good, blood seeping out between his fingers in rivulets. He searches for Peter even as he bleeds out, desperately trying to see if he’s still okay. It takes frantic seconds to find him and he lets out a sigh when they make eye contact across the field after Peter finally manages to stab the creature below him in a more vulnerable area of the neck.

Peter gasps for breath, using the body below him to push himself to his feet, eyes widening when he sees the state Steve’s in. He isn’t even able to take a step before something moves behind him.

Steve’s has a single second to see the bared teeth as the shadow lunges. “No!”

Peter’s sharp cry of pain echoes around them as shining white teeth sink into his skin, the giant muzzle of the scarred monster behind him closing around his entire shoulder. His arms do little more than try to reach up for the creature’s head, unable to reach from the position he’s in and already weakened from his other wounds. They show through his shirt, tattered and stained with blood, even more visible without his jacket. It’s obvious the pain overwhelms him as well, eyes rolling as he fights to stay conscious.

“Peter!” Steve tries to push himself to his feet but can’t seem to make the ground stop moving. The previous injuries to his head on top of the blood pouring from his side are threatening to take him under. He fights it. Of course he does. Peter needs him. He needs… It feels like getting hit by a semi-truck when yet another creature tackles him and sinks its teeth into his arm he throws up in defense of his face, crying out at the searing pain. He has a split second of - This is it. I’m going to die and my son is going to be torn apart – before Clint lands on its back and shoves an arrow down through the back of its head with a manic war cry.

Clint gasps as the massive body gives out beneath him. There's a cut above his eyebrow steadily bleeding from a creature that had driven him away from Peter moments before. He wipes away the blood that runs over his eye. “Steve-”

“Peter,” Steve hisses out. “Go. Now!” He shoves the creature from on top of him as Clint stands and helps pull it away.

Clint sets his sights on where Peter is dragged away and manages to find his footing, gripping his still bleeding bicep as he takes his own stumbling steps towards where the youngest of them has faded from their sight. “Hey! Get back here you fuckers!” He slowly makes it up to a jog, disappearing into the darkness after the faint trail of blood.

“Peter!” Bucky scrambles to his feet, stumbling as he moves towards where Peter, and now Clint, have disappeared into the shadows and misses the last of their attackers coming from his right. His breath is punched from his lungs when he hits the ground a split second before his head makes contact with something hard. His vision whites out for a second and he barely stays coherent enough to grip each part of the creature’s jaws to keep it from sinking its teeth into his throat. His metal hand squeezes, shattering the jaw of the creature pinning him to the ground before he gets a foot up to kick it in the ribs, hand scrabbling for the knife he’s dropped on the ground. He lets out a cry of triumph when he feels it, swinging down with a final burst of strength to plunge it deep between its ribs but it isn’t until he pulls himself to his knees and shoves down on the blade with both hands that it finally stops moving under him.

He gasps through his exhaustion, eyes trying to find where Clint took off into the trees though his vision is slowly warping at the edges. There’s a wet feeling spreading at the back of his head. He shakes it in an attempt to clear his thoughts, eyes landing on Steve and the large pool of blood still growing beneath him. With one last distraught look towards the darkness, he grits his teeth and turns to his friend. He has to believe that Clint will do whatever he can. If… if there’s anything that can be done. He himself is in no condition to go after them and he can’t leave Steve here in this defenseless state. If one of those monsters come back…

Steve’s hands are shaking as he tries to push himself up from the ground yet again, letting out a weak, enraged cry when his strength of his one good arm gives out and he collapses again. He can’t believe that monster was able to best him. That it got away only to go after his son instead. “Peter.” It’s a broken gasp.

Bucky fights the dizziness trying to drown him like a wave. He might have a concussion. He swallows sharply at the dying hope in Steve’s voice, his own heart lurching at the thought of Peter. Maybe he could go after- He blinks and he’s holding himself up with shaking arms again, staring down at the grass. Hell. He lets himself turn to fall to a sit and grips his knife tightly. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I can’t go after him.” Just gotta hold on until Clint comes back. Just need to… keep Steve safe. God, Steve. He’s bleeding a lot.

Bucky manages to make it the couple feet over to Steve’s side and pulls off his jacket and shirt with failing coordination. He forces Steve to stop trying to stand, getting him on his back to press the shirt to the massive tear just under his ribs. He almost laughs (it would have probably been hysterical if he had the energy to do so at all) when he realizes it’s in the same spot they had to cut open weeks ago to fix his ribs. Though, it's much longer. He can see the healed rib before he covers it with his shirt. He winces in sympathy at the choked sound Steve lets out. “Hang on.” His voice is a whisper. “Just hang on, Stevie.” He picks up Steve’s hand to press it to the shirt and hold it in place as he wraps his jacket around the bitten arm and ties the sleeves together at the top. He needs to get their bag of supplies. Fast. There's no way Steve is going to survive this on their meager remaining supplies if he can't stop the bleeding. Their food is almost gone and they haven't found a water source since yesterday morning. He blinks away wetness in his eyes. There's no time for that. He needs to fix this. "I'll be right back, okay? I need to get our bags." His legs barely hold him but he manages to stumble to the tree line.

Steve either doesn’t hear him, or doesn’t care to listen. His chest is heaving with aborted sobs, body too confused and unsure of what it’s supposed to be feeling between the effects of his wounds and the mental and emotional stress now drowning him. His mind is slowly fading, shadows moving in at the edges of his vision as tears of desperation start rolling down his temples. Peter. His son is still out there. He needs to…

Even as his vision finally fades, Steve uses the last of his energy to cry out his pain. The agonized cries echo through the trees, as if agony itself could pull his son back out of the darkness.

"PETER!”

Chapter Text

Steve finds him on accident. He’s not even Captain America at the moment. Just Steve, walking down the New York streets, when he happens to notice a small shape huddling down at the mouth of an alley. If it were anyone else, they probably wouldn’t have even noticed him. But to Steve’s enhanced eyesight, it was obvious this was a young boy who was not supposed to be out here on his own. He hunches over to appear smaller as he detours into the alley. “Hey.”

The boy’s head jerks up and he pushes himself back into the wall. It does little good. His wide eyes stare up at Steve with fear.

Steve stares back. The boy’s big, round eyes are a soft brown, reminding him of Tony paired with a head of dark hair that desperately needs a wash. As soon as their eyes meet, Steve is smitten. “Hey, easy.” He breaks himself out of his thoughts. Tries to calm the panicking boy down. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He crouches. It almost makes them eye level with each other.

The boy seems to study him warily. “Who…”

Steve smiles. “My name is Steve. I’m not sure if you’ve seen me on the news or not, but I’m also Captain America.”

The boy’s head tilts at that, eyes sweeping over Steve’s face again. “I’ve seen you,” he finally murmurs. He relaxes just a bit.

Steve nods, letting out a relieved breath. “Are you okay?”

The boy seems to hesitate, but must decide that if he were to tell anyone, Captain America would be the one to tell. “I didn’t want to stay at the orphanage anymore.” His voice is soft in hesitance as if he thought Steve would get angry at him.

Steve swallows tightly. “Did they hurt you there?”

The boy shakes his head. He looks away, not wanting to say anymore.

Steve gives him a gentle smile. “Okay. That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me everything right now.” He holds out his hand. “How about you come with me though. You look hungry. I’ll take you to Avengers tower and we can get you some food and you can meet some of my friends.”

Big brown eyes blink at him, widening. “The Avengers?”

A grin spreads across Steve's face as he nods. “C’mon. We’ll figure something out together.”

The boy hesitates, eyeing his hand for a few seconds before reaching out to take it. He lets Steve pull him to his feet before following him from the alley. He doesn’t let go of his hand.

“What’s your name?” Steve asks softly.

“Peter.”

-----------------------------------------------

Tony finds them at the counter in his kitchen after just having got back from a day full of meetings. He stands blinking at the sight of a little boy eating a sandwich on one of the stools, wearing what looks to be one of his old MIT shirts and swinging his legs in the air where they’re barely reaching halfway down the stool’s legs. His pants are dirty (hinting at why Steve would have gave him a clean shirt) and his hair is slightly damp like he’s just washed it.

“Uhhhh….” His reaction is less than intelligent. He’s irritated after so many meetings and dealing with the constant nagging of his board. He wishes he could still pass half of this stuff off to Pepper.

Steve turns to him, smiling brightly before murmuring something to the boy and coming over to him. “Hey.”

Tony blinks. “What…?”

Steve shrugs, almost sheepish. “Found him in an alley,” he murmurs. “He ran away from an orphanage.”

Tony feels a bit of anger rise up, imagining what could have made a young boy like that run away.

“He says they didn’t hurt him,” Steve continues softly, touching Tony's arm in comfort when he sees him tense up, “but he won’t tell me why he ran away.”

Tony nods once. “Did you call-”

“I had Jarvis find out who his social worker is. She’s on her way now.”

Tony lets out a deep sigh. “What’s his name?”

“Peter.” Steve turns back to the boy staring at them, and waves him over. “Hey, Peter. This is Iron Man.”

Peter hadn’t looked away from Tony since Steve had walked over. His eyes are big and he seems to have recognized Tony far quicker than he had Steve. He nods, carefully dropping from the stool and walking over. “Tony Stark.” A hesitant smile is spreading across his face.

Tony blinks in surprise. This boy, Peter, is what? Maybe eight? Nine? And he knows who Tony is? Most kids know Iron Man. But Tony… He crouches, reaching out to shake Peter’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter.”

Peter goes to say something else but freezes when Jarvis’s voice interrupts.

“Sirs, there’s a car registered to an Allison Roth pulling up to the private lot now. Shall I let her in?”

“Yes, please, Jarvis.” Steve looks to Peter, heart clenching at the betrayed look he’s giving him.

“Miss Roth? You called her?”

Steve crouches now too. “Hey, I said we’d figure this out together. And we will. But I have to talk to her too. She’s in charge of you.”

Peter only stares sadly at him, nodding once before crossing his arms over his chest and sniffing as he looks away.

Steve leads him over to the couch with a hand to his shoulder, turning to Tony after and sighing softly. “Can you stay here with him?”

Panic spikes up in Tony’s chest, but he nods and shoos Steve away. “I’m not dealing with the social worker. No way.”

Steve grins, kissing him on the cheek before heading down the hall to the elevator.

At first, Tony panics. This is so far out of his comfort zone he feels like he’s out at sea while his home is in the desert. He goes to sit on the couch and eyes Peter on the other end. Notes the stiffness and the way he hugs his knees to his chest. He won’t look at Tony now. It seems the prospect of going back to the orphanage is something Peter really hates. Tony fidgets. Lets out a sigh. “So...”

Peter looks to him.

He takes that as a sign to continue. “Why’d you run away, kid?”

Peter looks away, resting his chin on his knees. He sniffs. “No one wants me. I’m too much trouble. I thought the orphanage would be better without me too. There’s no point in staying if no one is going to adopt me.”

Tony frowns, his heart hurting for this kid. He’s had his own fair share of feeling unwanted. “I’m sure it’s not all that bad.”

Peter sniffs louder now, shaking his head. “I make messes when I try to make things. I heard them say they don’t know what to do with me.”

This just keeps sounding more familiar as it goes on. Tony leans forward. “What were you making? I love building things. And I make a lot of messes, believe me.” He grins when Peter looks to him. “I have some great stories about them. Wanna hear one? They tend to include explosions.” He waggles his eyebrows.

Peter blinks. Nods once.

Tony takes off his suit jacket, throwing it over the arm of the couch before he moves closer to Peter. “Okay. So I built this robot, right?” He rolls up his sleeves, reaching for a tablet to project his old sketches of Dum-e up above the table. As he goes through the story, he grins at the way Peter’s eyes light up as he tells of his trials with robots before he finally settled on Dum-e’s design and how much trouble he’d get in by his teachers at MIT for ruining the lab. It's been a long time since he's had someone new to tell these stories too. It's nice.

Through the storytelling, Peter moves closer and closer before he’s moving the schematics Tony pulls up and leaning over Tony’s lap to point out things himself. He doesn’t mind as Tony pulls him into his lap so that his arms are on either side of his own to show him how to move the projections to take things apart and helps him learn how to put them back together again.

Tony falls quiet as he watches Peter play with the parts he’s separated from the projected robot, a fond smile tugging at his lips at the blue sparkle in Peter’s eyes. “We could be good friends, kid.”

Peter looks up at him with wide eyes. “Really? But you’re so cool.”

Tony chuckles. “God, no. You’re the cool one. Look at what you’ve learned in just a few minutes, Pete.” He makes a few short motions with his hands, the parts Peter has taken to pieces flowing back together to form the miniature blue Dum-e hovering above the table. “This is some big stuff here.”

Peter shrugs. “I like learning things. I want to be like you when I grow up."

Tony's heart hurts.

"But people usually get mad when I start making things. Or asking questions. Or talking. I don’t know why.”

Tony frowns. He kicks off his shoes before he stands, wanting to keep the soft silence of the room, hoisting Peter in his arms as he moves over to the windows. The kid isn’t light, but he’s small for his age. He holds him easily, though he notices the way Peter tenses up. “Easy, buddy. I’m not going to hurt you.” He stops in front of the windows as Peter starts to settle in his hold, arms and legs wrapping around him. “Look out there.” He waits until Peter looks to the city lights below, starting to stand out against the setting sun. “There are a lot of people in the world, aren’t there?”

Peter nods. “It’s scary.”

Tony hums. “Sure is. But you know what? You’re going to grow up to be one of those people who run it. Believe me. Everything up here?” He taps Peter’s temple. “It’s special. I’m sure someone will see that someday.”

Peter huffs, laying his head on Tony’s shoulder with another sniff. His arms tighten around Tony’s neck. It almost feels like a hug.

Tony smiles, humming a song his mother used to sing as Peter promptly starts to fall asleep on his shoulder. Poor kid has probably had a tough time lately. Tony paces the floor, feeling his own anxiety falling out of his shoulders and back as he does so. It’s humbling, having such a small, distrusting human trusting him like this. The boy’s suspicious behavior speaks volumes to how rough life has been treating him. He wonders if anyone has actually tried to adopt him but gave up when he proved to be too smart for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve finishes talking to the social worker, leading her up to the common area to confirm that this was the boy she was looking for. They both stop short in the doorway, transfixed on the sight before them.

For Steve, it’s the sight of the pair so calm and peaceful that steals his breath. He watches Tony walk softly across the room with his eyes almost closed, humming a soft song under his breath with his head leaning against Peter’s where it’s resting on his shoulder. Steve recognizes it as a song Tony said his mother taught him on the piano. Tony’s suit jacket is long gone, sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, shoes off and socked feet quietly keeping time with his humming. Dum-e’s projection, still hovering over the table, is starting to be the prominent light source, setting everything in its soft, blue glow. It’s… beautiful.

In an instant, Steve sees their future. And it’s glorious.

The social worker is shocked. She leans closer to Steve, eyes never leaving the pair, to murmur, “Peter doesn’t like people touching him. Besides holding his hand, that is. Though I think that’s because the orphanage makes all the kids hold someone’s hand anytime they go somewhere.”

Steve blinks, finally breaking out of his trance to hear what she’s saying. “Does anyone know why?”

She shakes her head. “He’s never showed any signs of abuse. He went straight into the custody of the orphanage after his aunt passed suddenly. His parents had passed a year prior. We think it’s just because he’s afraid of getting comfortable with anyone. After losing two sets of guardians, the couple who took him in as a foster child as a possible future adoption never moved to make it official because he was … too smart for them really. He was too much of a handful that they weren’t looking for yet. He acts older than most couples are looking for in his age range. It intimidates them, I think. He needs a family who can help him grow that knowledge, but it’s already so vast that they don’t know what to do with him.”

Steve’s heart speeds up as the image of the future he keeps seeing gets clearer. Tony and Peter building things. Helping him with his homework. Steve cooking for both of them as Tony teaches Peter bad habits at the dinner table. It… it’s so perfect his chest hurts with the fear that it can’t happen. He looks back to the woman. “Give us twenty four hours.”

She stares at him. “I don’t…”

“Twenty four hours for me to convince both of them that this could work.” He tries to keep calm, but he feels his breathing speed up anyway. His excitement is going to make it difficult to look like a responsible adult. He takes a breath to calm himself. “Tony doesn’t think he’d be good with kids because his dad wasn’t good with him but… look at him.” He gestures towards the scene before them. “Just… give me twenty four hours for me to convince him and see if Peter likes it here. Likes us. I just…” He looks back to the pair and feels his chest constrict with love so strong it chokes him. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything so bad since marrying Tony.”

The woman looks between Steve and Tony, the pacing man and the one jittering next to her with so much hope and love that it makes her own heart beat in sympathy. She smiles for what feels like the first time in a long time. Her job can be quite difficult most days. “I have never seen a child like Peter. He’s gifted. I don’t think there are many people who could give him what he needs.” When Steve looks to her she meets his eyes. “Captain America adopting him? It would be laughable for me to disapprove. Tony Stark?”

Steve’s hackles rise so quickly it gives him whiplash.

She holds up a hand when she sees the way Steve goes to defend Tony. “I know the media can blow things out of proportion. It’s hard to get a good read on Tony Stark.” She looks back to the still pacing man. There’s no denying that it’s Tony Stark. She knows his face about as well as anyone in New York. But… this isn’t the Tony Stark they show on TV. Though he’s saved them all and seems to be doing his best to make up for some past wrongs, she would be hard pressed to find someone who would say that Tony Stark, brash and bold in ways very few people can be, is a lovely person. But for the sight before her, ‘lovely’ is the only word she can seem to describe this Tony with.

“You know him best, Captain. You’re always by his side. Everyone knows that there has to be something about Tony Stark that would make you trust him as a co-leader. Something that would make you date him. Marry him. Standing here, it’s easy for me to see how much you love him.” She smiles at the embarrassed way he rubs at his neck. “But because we are creatures who have unforgiving memories, you’re the one everyone trusts. So, Steve, do you think Tony Stark could make a good father? He’s obviously got enough knowledge to handle Peter’s intellect. It’s everything else that is up for debate.”

Steve nods without hesitation, eyes meeting hers strong and clear. “Without a doubt in my mind. That boy in there? He’d be the safest, most nurtured, most loved boy in New York. Hell, the world.”

Allison Roth looks back to the pair one last time. Tony has stopped pacing now, sitting on the arm of the couch as he looks out at the city lights and sways back and forth just the slightest bit. His back is to them so she can’t see his hand, but his arm moves in a way that tells her he’s rubbing Peter’s back. This soft Tony Stark? She would probably fall in love with him too. She looks to the little blue robot projection and wonders if Tony was figuring out how smart Peter was himself.

“I believe you.” She turns to leave. “Peter doesn’t look like he feels well tonight. I think it’d be better to let him sleep and take him back to the orphanage tomorrow.” She winks at Steve over her shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll feel better tomorrow evening. I’ll come back then.”

Steve feels his eyes tear up as hope surges in his chest. He can only nod once, jaw clenching.

She nods back, leaving through the silent elevator doors, Jarvis softly telling her he’ll see her out.

Steve is drawn to Tony like the man is his center of gravity. And really? He has been for a very long time. He comes up behind him on the right side of the couch to reach around his waist and rest his chin on Tony’s free shoulder. “I love you.”

Tony doesn’t ever startle at Steve’s touch anymore. It used to break Steve’s heart that loving touch was so rare for Tony that it was something odd enough to startle him. He leans over into Steve’s chest and lets out a content hum. “I love you too.” It’s a barely heard whisper.

Steve kisses his temple, squeezing Tony’s waist once before nudging him to stand from his lean. “C’mon.” He leads Tony to the elevator. “We’re keeping him for the night.”

Tony turns to him in confusion, realizing that the social worker wasn’t here. He goes to speak, but lets it go when Steve shakes his head. Not yet. He lets Steve lead them to their floor, carrying Peter over to the couch in their room and laying him down as Steve leaves and returns with a blanket to drape over him. He’s still silent as Steve pulls him over to the other side of their room where their bed is. It isn’t until Steve has pulled him into his side as he leans back against the headboard that the talks. “What’s your play, Mr. Stark?”

Steve smiles. Doesn’t think Tony will ever tire of calling him that. “Picture it with me,” he murmurs. Presses his lips against Tony’s temple. “Rushing around in the morning, getting him ready for school. Parent/teacher meetings. Picking him up on days we aren’t busy instead of making Happy do it all the time.” He ignores Tony’s stiffening. “Teaching him… everything. Building things with him in your workshop. Highschool. College. Watching him grow and thinking: I did that. I helped him become who he is today.”

Tony’s breathing is speeding up. He moves away the slightest bit to turn to Steve. “Steve. I can’t… I’m not…”

Steve meets his eyes, the hand that’s not around Tony’s shoulders coming up to touch his face. “Tony. You’d be perfect. He needs someone smart and loving and safe. You are all of those things. Everything else? We’ll figure out. That’s parenting. All I know is that I haven’t wanted anything more. Not since the day I married you.” He kisses him softly, heart clenching at the shudder it induces. Tony always reacts so strongly to his touch. God, how he loves this man.

Tony’s hands come up to grip Steve’s shirt. “I think I want it too,” he finally chokes out, shaking now. “I know I shouldn’t. I don’t have any right to be raising a kid. With my panic attacks and tendency to attract all disasters…” he shakes his head at Steve’s frown. “We both know that I wouldn’t be able to do it. Not on my own. But if it’s with you…” he breathes sharply, trying to calm himself, “I trust you to help me do this right. I want him too, Steve. He’s amazing and smart and I know I’ve barely scratched the surface. I would love to call him my son. I mean, my god, he's adorable!”

Steve surges forward, kissing him fiercely. “We can do this.” He breathes it against Tony’s lips. “We can. We’ll ask him tomorrow. Okay?”

Tony nods, eyes suspiciously shiny. “Okay.”

Steve pulls him into his side, not bothering to undress or get ready for bed. They’ll fix everything in the morning. Right now? He wants to hold his husband and watch over whom he hopes will someday be his son.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning wakes Steve to an empty bed. As he remembers the previous night’s happenings, he sits up in confusion to find the couch empty as well. “Jarvis?”

“Sir is currently in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for young Peter,” he answers without needing to be asked.

He lets out a sigh. “Thanks, Jarvis.” He changes into a new pair of comfortable clothes quickly before heading to the elevator. Nearing the kitchen, he smiles at the voices he hears.

“No. I can’t believe this. We are not having this discussion. You are going to eat your pancakes and get out, Brucie. Peter is my new minion and you are no longer my friend.”

“That’s not nice.” Peter’s voice comes out garbled around what Steve can only assume is a mouth full of his own pancakes.

“Brucie isn’t nice, Peter. He’s a horrible person who likes to disagree with me for no reason just to get on my nerves.”

Steve leans against the corner of the wall, eyes taking in the scene. Bruce has his chin resting on his hand, eyes alight with humor as he pushes the last bite of pancake around his plate with the fork in his other hand. Steve assumes he’s using it as a reason to stay in the room. Peter is on the stool next to him, swinging his legs as he digs into the stack of pancakes on his plate and, good lord, Steve is going to have to talk to Tony about portion control for children. Tony must have had a new set of clothes bought and delivered early this morning for Peter. The boy is now wearing a new pair of jeans and an Iron Man t-shirt that are exactly his size.

Tony himself has changed sometime this morning into his favorite sweatpants and Captain America shield t-shirt. He flips the last pancake, dropping it on the stack next to him and pushing the pan off the stove before brandishing the spatula at Bruce. “Out. I will continue this in your lab later where little ears won’t hear the words I want to say to you.” His glare is mock-severe.

Bruce rolls his eyes, dramatically eating his last bite before sanding from the counter and leaving his plate behind.

“Hey! Clean up after yourself!”

“You told me to get out,” Bruce answers with a shrug, not even turning around. He gives Steve a grin as he passes that tells him Bruce really was just trying to rile Tony up with whatever argument they were having. “I like the kid,” he murmurs, barely loud enough for Steve to hear even with his enhanced hearing.

Steve winks at him before looking back to Tony’s now speculative gaze.

“Did he say something to you?”

Steve rolls his eyes, moving into the room and pulling Tony close to kiss his forehead before turning to the stack of pancakes. “Calm down, Tony.” He grabs half of them with his fingers, dropping them on the plate already on the counter and pouring syrup over them. Tony doesn’t cook much, but he’s gotten good at pancakes. He carries it over to the counter Peter is sitting at, pulling Tony with him with his free arm around his waist. He leaves it there, fingers curling around his hip lightly.

Peter’s head is tilted in speculation. “You love each other.” It’s said simply, the eyes of a child seeing the casual kiss and touches for what they are. “I think I saw you were married on the news. Are you married?”

Steve nods with a smile. “We’re married. I love him very much.” He eats a bite of the stack of pancakes before cutting off another and handing the fork to Tony. Trying to feed him would be pushing it this morning. He’s already going to get him worked up over the adoption thing again. Or so he thinks. As his mouth opens to broach the topic, his eyes snap to Tony and his mouth hangs open in shock as the other man beats him to the punch.

“So, Peter. What would you say to sticking around?” His eyes sparkle as he takes the bite of pancakes Steve cut for him before setting the fork down on the plate.

Peter blinks at him. “Stick around?” He barely gets the words out clearly around another too-big bite of pancakes. Were they not feeding this kid or what?

Tony nods. “Yeah. Stay here with us. Steve and I don’t have any kids and we thought…” he shrugs, feeling nervous as Peter suddenly stills, “maybe you’d want to come live with us?” The tone tilts up by the end, making it a question.

Peter looks between the two of them. Swallows the bite. Blinks. “Stay? With you?”

Steve knows he’s gripping Tony’s hip too hard and it takes effort to loosen his fingers. “Would asking if you want to live with Steve and Tony be too boring? Would you rather live with Captain America and Iron man?”

"For how long?" He asks softly, carefully hopeful.

Steve's heart hurts as he remembers what Peter's social worker told him yesterday about Peter's previous foster family. "Forever, if you'd like."

Peter’s eyes are wide, quickly turning watery as he realizes what they’re asking. “You want to adopt me?”

Tony winks at him, relaxing now. Peter just doesn’t believe what’s happening. He’s happy. Not upset. “What’d I tell you? Someone was going to realize you were special. I already told you that you were, right? Well, Steve thinks so too.”

Peter vaults from his stool to land in Tony’s arms, arms tight around his neck as he chants, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, please, please, please, please.”

Steve reaches over to run his hand through Peter’s hair, shushing him softly before rubbing his back. “It's okay, buddy. You don't need to beg. As long as you’ll have us, we’ll take you. We want you, Peter.” He jerks his hand back when Peter suddenly sits up in Tony’s arms, but relaxes when all the boy does is turn to reach towards him. He pulls him from Tony’s arms into his own, letting out a sigh as the boy clings to him with arms and legs as if he’s afraid he’ll change his mind.

Tony chuckles softly, keeping a hand on the boy’s back. “Miss Roth will be here to get you later today, but don’t worry.” He gives Peter a soft smile when the boy turns back to him in slight panic. “There’s just a few things we need to do in order to keep you legally. Make sure you can stay here forever. I have the best people in the world working for me and I’ll do my best to get it done as fast as possible. It might take a few weeks, but we promise you’ll be back here soon. To stay.”

Peter wipes his eyes before his hands fist back into Steve’s shirt. “But… but what if you change your mind?”

“Oh, honey.” Tony moves closer to reach up to Peter’s face, cupping his cheek. He meets his eyes seriously. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure. Steve and I talked about it last night and I…” He runs his hand through Peter’s hair. “If I ever had a son of my own, I would have loved for it to have been you. We won’t change our minds. Ever.”

Steve’s own watery eyes meet Tony’s, full of love and hope. He hugs Peter close as he feels him start to tremble. “Easy, Peter. We want you. We’ll always want you. As long as you want to be here, we’ll never let you go.”

Peter reaches down to take Tony’s hand as he curls into Steve’s chest, new tears tracking down his cheeks. “Promise?”

The answer is in unison. “Promise.”

Chapter Text

“Get up, Clint.”

Everything is muffled. Did he lose his hearing aids?

“Clint!”

Phil. Phil’s voice is still in one ear so he at least still has one of his earpieces. How the hell did…?

“I have eyes on him. I can try- Shit!” Tony. What…?

He pries his eyes open and moves to get up. Moving his arm makes everything short out, silence engulfing him before the ringing comes as white flashes across his vision. He feels the next explosion more than he hears it. Dust rains down on him just as he’s starting to level out again. He chokes as he breathes in.

“Hawkeye!” Steve’s voice in his ear, relief obvious. “You with us?”

It’s too late to answer, the dust quickly sending him into a coughing fit that easily identifies every other area in his body that hurts, cracked yells escaping between coughs. When he can finally breathe again, he chokes out an “oh shit,” in an astoundingly small voice that he’s, quite honestly, a little ashamed of.

He can finally hear Phil’s voice again, the rest of the team turned down to a low murmur in the background. He mentally thanks Tony for his thoughtfulness. “There you go. You’re okay. Can you move? Can you get out of there? Talk to me.”

Clint grits his teeth as he tries to move again, mentally tallying up the broken or cracked bones. Luckily, his legs seem to be mostly fine. Just a sprained ankle and possible bruising. The rest of him though… “I… I can’t…”

“You can.” Phil’s ever-calm voice keeps him from panicking. “You can and you will. Everyone else almost has things handled, but they’re still cut off from you. They won’t get to you in time before the destruction around you decides to get worse. You hear me? We have a few buildings in your area Jarvis says are unstable and Stark hasn’t been able to get to you through the last of their air support.”

He’s finally able to push himself up on his good arm, gritting his teeth against the grinding he feels in his chest as he moves. His upper body strength is what he prides himself on. And now he can’t- His vision whites out again. “I can’t…” He inhales sharply, his good arm shaking as he fights to not give in to the pain that spreads down his side.

“You can. Get up. That’s an order.”

“You can’t order my bones to heal,” he hisses, barely getting a leg under himself.

“Don’t give me that shit!” Phil hisses.

Clint winces. He’s done it now.

“You get your ass out of there! Now!”

Clint knows why Phil is starting to lose his cool. He can feel the rumbling of the buildings through the ground under his hands. Even with Phil’s tough love, he’s not going to make it. “Phil.”

“Don’t talk. Move.”

Clint makes it two steps before he stumbles on his bad ankle, the jolt setting off a chain reaction. His body might as well have been lit on fire. He falls down to his knees, his vision whiting out again as he chokes on a sound that would have been a cry if he had enough air. He hears Phil’s voice in his ear, urging him on. He barely crawls another foot before his good arm gives out and he lowers himself to rest on his elbow. “I… c-can’t.”

Phil’s voice is deadly calm when he answers. “Is that your best, Agent? Have you given me all you have?”

Clint nods, though he knows no one sees it. He coughs, watching blood splatter the ground in front of him through tears that spring up against his will from pain. Well shit. That’s not good at all. He answers the question as an agent, and a lover. “A-always gave you ev-everything.” He feels a heavy crash through the ground below him. Wonders if it’s the fight still going on, or a building finally falling.

He knows it’s the latter when Phil starts panicking. “Clint! Get up!”

Everyone is calling for him now, the sounds of fighting having died down. Steve tries to urge him on. Tony is stringing a truly impressive list of curses together. He smiles to himself as his head falls down to rest on his arm. Having the voices of his friends in his ear isn’t the worst way to go.

A shadow falls over him.

He doesn’t ever feel the impact, white-hot pain shooting through him enough to let the blackness take over.

He doesn’t remember much. He passed out about the same time he should have been flattened by the falling building. He does, however, remember Phil calling out his name in a voice he hopes to never hear again and the vague sound of metal being pummeled just before he blacks out. Tony’s sentence of curses makes more sense when he realizes the genius thinks it makes the suit move faster when he curses. Honestly, having been shielded by the armor just in time… it might be true.

It’s when he woke up in the hospital a few days later that sticks in his memory the most. His eyes had found Phil immediately, his usually put-together handler sans jacket and tie, sleeves rolled up, leaning on the side of the bed with days-old scruff. He isn’t sleeping though. His hand is propping his chin up, elbow on the bed, curled fingers covering his mouth. He’s staring at him as if he knew the exact second Clint would wake up.

Phil just stared at him for a solid few seconds before lifting his other hand in the simple sign of ‘I love you’.

Clint had smiled.

Phil finally smiled back, hidden behind his hand but given away by the lovely lines that appeared by his eyes.

That’s all they ever really needed.

Clint tried to follow the trails that led from the clearing. Different dripping trails that each led him to the few creatures that had scrambled away only to die farther in the forest from their extensive wounds. None of them led to Peter. None of them gave him a clue as to where that monster could have taken him. Nothing. Not a scrap of clothing or a drop of… flesh. Clint shudders. It’s as if… Peter just disappeared.

He finally stops at the end of a trail where the blood seems to have dragging marks along it and it gives him a bit of hope. But... when he finally finds an end to the trail, the blood seems to have been… dispersed in different directions. He desperately checks the surrounding area, hoping with all that’s in him to find some sort of sign that Peter could be alive. But… it’s as if each of the creatures had… taken a piece and devoured- Clint falls to his knees and empties his stomach of the little that’s left of his dinner. He barely holds himself up with his arms, resting that way long after he’s emptied all he could from his still rolling and clenching stomach.

Eventually he wipes his mouth, centers himself, and slowly stands to his feet. He barely feels the pain and exhaustion that had weighed on him moments before. It’s turned into a dull ache compared to this. If only he had been stronger before… He shakes his head sharply.

It doesn’t matter now. Phil’s voice murmurs in his head. You don’t get to change the past. All you can do is deal with the aftermath.

Deal with the aftermath. He takes a shuddering breath. He doesn’t think he can deal with telling Steve that… that Peter… Oh god, Peter… his nephew… Steve’s son, is dead. He takes a step. Then another. One after the other, he makes his feet move.

You take one step. Then another. You keep going until you can’t anymore. And then you push yourself farther. The end only comes when there’s nothing left to give.

Nothing left to give. Did he really have nothing left to give when he was laying out on the grass? Did he really have nothing left to give as that creature had clamped down on Peter’s shoulder and dragged him off? If he really had nothing left to give, he shouldn’t be standing now. He shouldn’t be re-playing the scene of Peter getting dragged off into the shadows. He should have-

‘Should have’ doesn’t undo what has already been done. Phil has never been one for mincing words. ‘Should have’ is only applicable when the situation can be reversed. Do you know when that is?

“Never,” he speaks aloud. Feels a little like he’s losing his mind, talking to the fake Phil in his head.

Never. Nothing can be reversed once it’s been done. Sometimes it can be undone. Or redone. But having been done in the first place can never ‘unhappen’. The past can’t be changed. You live with it. You accept it. And you move on.

But… how could they move on from this?

Bucky is working on Steve when Clint makes it back to them. When Bucky’s head snaps around to find him, eyes expectant, he feels like throwing up all over again. “Peter…”

Clint shakes his head once, jaw clenched so tight he feels his teeth grind.

Bucky’s breath hitches, fingers freezing where they’re covered in Steve’s blood yet again. He’s kneeling in it. As the reality of this loss settles on his shoulders, Bucky looks back down to Steve’s pale face. A morbid thought makes itself known; if he were a little less selfish… he’d let Steve die. Losing Peter is going to kill him anyway. The blood soaking into his jeans is steadily spreading.

Clint falls to his knees at Bucky’s side, hands gently taking over for the remaining few stitches needed. The only thing Clint can do now is make sure Steve doesn’t die from blood loss before they make it to the ship. He’s not letting anyone else die on him. He’s not stronger than Bucky. He’s no less shattered. He just… needs to do something. Something to make up for…

“It’s not our fault,” Bucky chokes out as if reading his mind, hands clenching where they’re now resting on his knees. It sounds painful to say. “If we’re going to convince Steve it’s not his fault, we need to believe it too.” It would be more convincing if he could talk with more strength than a whisper.

Clint finishes the stitches silently. By the end, there’s so many of them. If Steve lives through this, it’ll be its own miracle. “We need to find water.”

Bucky nods. “In the morning. It’s too dangerous to go out alone. We need to get back to camp.”

One step at a time.

So they do.

They drag Steve, Bucky still dizzy and Clint still getting weaker. It seems to take a very long time. When they get back, they pull bandages out and wrap over the leaking stitches on Steve’s arm and ribs before Bucky turns to Clint and finally wraps up his arm that’s still sluggishly bleeding. By the time they’re done, the two are about to fall over again. The last bit of energy used to go after Peter and fix Steve up is gone. It’s time to tap out.

Clint throws the last few pieces of gathered wood on the fire that is down to embers. He hopes it catches. He doesn’t have the energy to try to build it back up. “Take a few minutes,” he breathes. “I can stay up a bit longer. Let your head take a break and I’ll wake you when I can’t stay up anymore.” It hadn't been hard to notice the way Bucky kept shaking his head to clear it and the dried blood all down the back of his neck. Clint only hopes that there aren't worse implications they wouldn't be able to fix out here on their own.

Bucky doesn’t argue. He’s too disoriented still and trusts Clint to know his own boundaries. He lets his eyes fall closed as he lowers himself to his side and lets his head rest on his pack. A few tears finally escape, loss just starting to set in as his mind still processes the reality of what Clint coming back without Peter means. Thoughts of his nephew weigh heavily on his mind as everything finally fades into comforting blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint doesn’t startle awake. It wasn’t a horrible dream, all things considered. That’s why it hurts more than anything to wake up and realize they’re still out here on their own. His cuts still sting, his body still feels like lead, and they’re still basically lost. The worst thing, though, is that there’s no comforting sound of Phil’s voice in his ear to keep him going. There hasn’t been in a very long time.

“You were talking in your sleep.”

Clint’s eyes fall closed again. “Any chance we can pretend I wasn’t?”

A metal hand rests on his shoulder. “Of course. Unless you want to stop being the brave one for a while?”

The questioning tone at the end makes it a request. Clint takes him up on it, though he doesn’t move to face him. “It was a memory. A city battle you weren’t there for yet. A building almost crushed me.”

A low hum. “Steve’s told me about that one. One of the ‘how Clint almost died’ stories that came up when talking about Tony’s close calls.”

Clint huffs. “Yeah. Shook everyone up. I was smothered for the month to come. It was our first mission after Phil and I got married, but it was also the one and only time Phil was on coms with me when I was that close…”

“Huh.”

“Surprising, I know. He’s been by my side when things went to shit before. It’s easier that way because he’s there to help me. I’ve went missing in the middle of a mission too. He keeps it together because it’s his job to get me home or be there when I contact him again. But I’ve always made sure my line to him was dead or he didn’t know the extent of any damage on missions where he was just the voice in my ear and things went to shit. Not being there to fix whatever is wrong makes it worse. It helped when Nat was there. She understood that panic was useless and wanted to keep him from knowing the worst of it too. I don't think we ever really believed he'd fall apart or anything. We just wanted to make sure none of his calls were influenced by what he thought I could or couldn't do in my current condition. But that day…”

“You fell from a building, right?”

“There was nothing to grab. Nothing for an arrow to attach to. Everything was crumbling and I went down with it. Woke up to Phil yelling at me to get up and did my best to try. I just couldn’t make it very far.”

“He panicked.”

“If I never hear his voice like that again, I’ll die happy.”

“And he asked if you’d given all you had.”

Clint bites his lip, eyes squeezing shut as he understands what he said out loud in his sleep. The most important part, of course. “Always given him everything,” he murmurs. Rubs his face against his arm he’s lying on as if shaking himself from the moment. “That’s why it’s a good thing you weren’t around when he was gone. When we thought he was dead. We all were just a little… lost and dysfunctional. As for myself… I don’t know if you would have liked me as much.”

Bucky manages a soft huff. To call it a laugh would be generous.

Clint sighs, wincing when his ribs twinge with it. He’s not surprised they were bruised at some point in the fight. If not cracked. He’ll probably need Bucky to help him check the bruising in the morning. “I just… I really miss just having his voice in my ear. Something. It was always my second choice when he wasn’t able to be on the ground with us on missions.”

Bucky nods to himself. “His voice always kept me calm and focused. I’m sure it’s more than that for you though.”

“It’s comforting.”

“It’s home,” Bucky adds softly. “You don’t have to act like you don’t get mushy with me, you know?”

Clint huffs once. “I have a reputation to uphold, Barnes. Nat and I are the best assassin team ever.”

“Mmmhmm.” Though nagging, it’s comforting. Bucky seems to be more himself for a moment.

It’s silent for a while.

Clint finally breaks it with a small sniff. “I miss him. Just want to get to the ship.”

Bucky smoothes his hand down Clint's arm in comforting sweeps. “I know, man. We’ll get there.”

“Not all of us.”

“No,” he murmurs, “but I won’t let anyone else die. You hear me?”

Clint doesn’t answer.

It’s quiet for a long time. They had only switched positions a few hours ago, Clint guesses, judging by the state of the fire. It’s just now dying down again. He had managed to give Bucky an hour of sleep before he gave in to his losing battle of keeping himself conscious. Bucky had roused himself at Clint’s tap to his shoulder and taken watch without a word as the archer passed out next to him. Now, though Clint was still so incredibly tired, he was awake again. Dreams are awful things.

Bucky looks over with a frown when he hears a low sound, eyes landing on Steve where he’s twitching a few feet away. As he watches, his movements become sharper, words coming out clearer.

“Peter… Don’t! Stay… Stay back!”

Bucky’s shoulders droop with the weight of the pain that slams into him. He stands with a sigh and moves over to his hurting friend. “Steve.”

“Pete! Don’t… don’t touch him!”

Clint sits up at the yell, turning and meeting Bucky’s eyes sadly. “Should have seen this coming.”

Bucky nods. “He always was prone to nightmares.” After the serum, it only got worse. His heightened senses remembering things all too well. “I wonder how Tony does with dealing with them.” He puts his flesh hand to Steve’s shoulder, hoping it feels less imposing than the metal one. He sighs when he feels the heat under it. “He probably has a fever because of his wound as well.” He aims a concerned frown at Clint before Steve jerks again. “Steve. Wake up, punk.” He shakes his shoulder gently when he only curls in further.

Breathing picking up, Steve’s fingers dig into the ground at his sides. “Peter! No! Don’t…”

“Steve!”

If Bucky were anyone else, he would have been seeing stars and laying a few feet away on the ground with the force of the swing that Steve wakes up with. But Bucky isn’t anyone else. In a reflex that’s been honed into him for what seems like his whole life, his metal hand comes up to catch the one that swings at his face as Steve sits up with a snarl. He pins it down easily and forces Steve back down to the ground with his right hand pressing on his chest. “Steve!” It’s startlingly easy to overpower him in his body’s current state.

Eyes clearing instantly, Steve stares up at him as he gasps. “Bucky?”

Bucky nods. “You’re okay.”

Steve looks around, eyes scanning over Clint and Bucky before falling closed at the obvious absence. “Oh god.”

Clint’s breath hitches. “I… I’m sorry Steve. I tried to find him…” Clint doesn’t have the words. Can’t bear to describe what he found at the end of that trail.

Steve’s chest hitches before it starts to heave again. “No.” His jaw clenches and his eyes squeeze shut. “It was just a dream.”

Bucky sighs. Runs a hand through his long hair. “No, Steve,” he murmurs roughly. “It wasn’t.”

Bucky doesn’t remember seeing Captain America break. Not through everything they went through during the war or everything he’s went through after the ice. Even Steve didn’t break before the serum when things were at their worst or after battles in this new century when things had gone horribly wrong. Through so many dire situations and close calls, Steve stood as Captain America, an immovable pillar with unshaken faith that whoever was suffering would pull through. Now? Like the Roman temples eventually collapsed, Steve’s ground has been stripped from below his feet and reduce him to nothing more than a shaking leaf.

It’s not a close call anymore. Peter is gone and there’s no Tony to lean on.

Steve is adrift.

His chest starts to heave with stuttered breaths. “Oh god. H… he’s…?” It comes out as a broken question, missing its ending, a sharp sound escaping his throat when Clint can only nods once in answer. “He… And Tony could be dead. What if they’re both dead? What if they’re both dead?” He manages to push himself to a shaky sit, eyes frantic as worst-case scenarios start playing through his head.

Bucky swears at the sight of red starting to stain the bandages on his side. But… one thing at a time. They need to calm him down. “Steve. Steve, listen to me. C’mon buddy, don’t check out on me now.” Taking his face in his hands, Bucky tries to make eye contact. He starts to panic when he sees the way Steve’s eyes look through him.

Steve’s shoulders curve in as if his chest is caving in, his words jumbling together in nonsensical rhythms of pain. “Peter. Tony… I need… Oh god, Peter. Tony, I’m sorry. What if they’re both dead? I can’t… I can’t…” He lets out a strangled sound, hand coming up for his teeth to sink into his knuckles in an attempt to smother the breaking sound that rips itself from his throat.

Clint is close now, arms hesitantly reaching out as he watches Steve fall apart. He feels something shatter inside at the wounded sound that Steve makes. Like an animal in so much pain, suffering abuse so great, it may not survive. That thought scares Clint. He moves in like Bucky and holds Steve close. Tangles his arms with his and creates a net together in an attempt at keeping Steve from falling apart. “Steve. Steve, listen to me. Tony is okay. And he’s waiting for you.”

Steve shakes his head, almost rocking back and forth now.

Bucky moves in front of him to take his face in his hands again, stilling him to touch his forehead to Steve’s. He sees Clint sit back in the corner of his eye. It’s been a long time since Steve has been in such bad shape around him. He takes over Tony’s duty, what used to be his own, and softens his voice to a murmur to catch Steve’s heart and mind in the intimacy. Steve responds well to emotion. “Stevie. Buddy. I know it hurts. I know. But you still have so many people who love you. So many people who need you.”

Clint looks over the two. Sees the decades of friendship practically vibrating between them. Understands why Tony helped Steve get Bucky back. Why he never set an ultimatum for Steve to choose when it was so obvious he was doubting how much he meant to the first super soldier.

Bucky runs a hand down the back of Steve’s head, almost petting him. Trying to soothe. “Tony. Clint. Me. Not to mention the rest of the team. We love you, punk. And we need you to stay strong. Maybe not as Captain America, but Steve Rogers, now Stark. You hear me? You need to let this go. Let it hurt. Okay?”

Steve finally gets a coherent sentence out, though slurred from pain and the gaining fever. “I need… I need Tony. I need him here. Buck… I need him.”

Bucky feels tears prick at his eyes at the pain in his best friend’s voice. “I know, Stevie. I know.” He pulls Steve’s face into his neck, kissing the top of his head and leaving his face there. Feels the soft strands against his skin like so many times before. No matter how big Steve is, he’ll always fit in his arms. He takes a second to appreciate Tony for all the times he’s pulled Steve in just like this, even though his slighter frame might make it harder to do so. “Tony will be waiting for you when we get there. I promise.”

Steve shudders, finally waking up from the abyss he was falling into. He sinks into the comforting hold, while still wishing it was another. “I… I miss him. I miss him so much. And… Pete… Peter…”

And finally, finally, Steve cries.

Bucky feels his own eyes water as Steve finally falls apart. He hates it when his friend is in pain and right now? Steve is in agony. His sobs rattle through his chest, earth-shattering enough for the both of them.

“Shit.” Bucky looks to the sky, blinking the tears away and gritting his teeth against his own need to break down. Both for Steve’s pain and the loss of his nephew. Peter… he was a good kid. A good man. The universe has truly suffered a great loss.

Clint reaches out again, putting one arm around each of them and resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. He keeps his own tears at bay for now. “I’ve got you. Take whatever time you need,” he murmurs. His eyes fall closed to center himself as Bucky finally decides to give in to his own pain.

It would be a sight to see if anyone were around to see it. The three men all tangled together in a mess of limbs, one keeping watch as the other two fall into each other and cry for their loss. Eventually, the two super soldiers lie down, metal arm curling around and holding the larger figure close like they haven't done since they were kids. It takes a long time for the sobs to settle.

The archer keeps watch, a hand on each, his eyes sweeping the distance.

Chapter Text

Bruce snorts as he walks into the kitchen to see Tony flipping through one of the worst rag magazines available in the country. “Who’s dating who now?”

Tony perks up, grinning widely as he turns. “Apparently I’m dating Clint.”

“Oh God.” Steve sighs from the stove as he flips an egg. “Don’t tell me. The face touch after that last fight. That’s what they’re going with?”

Tony flips the magazine around, rolled open to the page that indeed has a picture of Clint touching Tony’s face. “It does look quite tender. I think he loves me more than you do, Steve.”

Bruce can’t help the laugh that escapes at Steve’s affronted look. “A divorce on the horizon for America’s greatest Power Couple?”

Tony stares at Bruce with a calculatingly suspicious look. “You’re getting better at guessing the hook lines in these things.” He flips a page to show that exact quote in bold letters in the following article.

“Divorce?” Peter stumbles into the room then, hair askew and eyes barely open. He sits on the next available stool and hums softly as Bruce immediately starts carding his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the wild locks. His brow furrows as he looks to Tony. “I feel like I should be informed of your intentions to divorce dad and marry uncle Clint. I am your son, after all.”

Tony shudders. “Ugh, stop. Calling him ‘uncle Clint’ makes it sound even more weird.”

Steve raises his spatula. “I put fifty down on them calling a custody battle over Peter.”

Bruce hums. “Peter is America’s second darling. I’ll raise you to one hundred on the shit writer pre-eminently awarding you full custody, no battle needed.” He shrugs when Tony gives him a pouty look. “Sorry, Tones. You know everyone thinks Steve is the only father figure in this whole team.”

With a sigh, Tony flips the page with a flourish and skims the next section.

Peter slides from his stool and wraps his arms around Tony’s shoulders when they slump seconds later. “Awe, no.”

With a dramatically sorrowful sob, Tony turns to pull Peter’s face into his chest with an arm around his head and another around his shoulders. “Alas! Steve will be taking you custody and not letting me see you in fear of my corrupting you into a lying, cheating, bastard as I have grown up into.”

Peter flails in Tony’s hold, hands tapping Tony’s face and pushing at his waist in an attempt to get him to let go as his disgruntled sounds are muffled against Tony’s chest.

Steve rolls his eyes, finally pushing the pan to the back of the stovetop and coming over to kiss Tony’s temple. “What? No cry of outrage and a challenge to a custody battle the likes of which has never been seen before?”

Tony sniffs. “Apparently I’m enough of a bastard that I don’t care if you get my son as long as me and my new boy-toy Clint get to run off together.”

Clint stops dead in the doorway, turning to Phil. “See, this is why I never come here anymore. I walk in for the first time in weeks to that sentence.”

Peter lets out a gasp as Tony finally releases him. “God, Dad you are such a jerk,” he grumbles with a glare.

Tony shrugs with an easy grin. “You could have pulled away.”

“You know I don’t use my strength on you guys.” He turns to Clint, pointing at him menacingly. “You can have him.”

“Don’t want him!” Clint throws his hands up in surrender with wide eyes.

“Feeling the love, Hawkguy,” Tony drawls.

Clint narrows his eyes. “I hate you.”

Phil takes the magazine from Tony, eyebrow raising as he turns to show Clint. “There’s very little hate in this picture.”

“His helmet was compromised! I was making sure he didn’t have a concussion!”

“While staring lovingly into my eyes,” Tony stage-whispers to Coulson as he bats his eyelashes at Clint.

"How are they even legally able to print this stuff?" Clint sighs, ruffling Peter’s hair as he passes and casually throwing his arm around Tony’s neck to close it in a headlock. "I'm more annoyed about the fact they apparently think I'm a home wrecker." He ignores Tony’s half-hearted swats at his arm, turning to Phil. “Sorry, babe. I’m kidnapping Tony and we’re going to run off together. Apparently he’s been secretly in love with me for years.”

“I shall try to carry on.” Phil’s voice is dry. He continues to read the article, his face increasingly amused. "We might have to go public with our marriage if you want to stop being the avenger they always target."

Clint shrugs. "Let them write what they want. You know I only have eyes for you, baby." He grins at Coulson's eye roll.

Steve leans in to kiss Tony’s cheek where it’s still against Clint’s chest. “Have fun with the investors, love. I’m headed out. I know the next few weeks are going to be tough, so let me know if I can do anything. Don’t hesitate to call me anytime. I’ll miss you.”

Tony gapes at him from in Clint’s hold as Steve walks away. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

“Clint, please don’t break my husband.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sure Pepper won’t be happy if he doesn't show up to Investor Hell Month and she’ll blame me for not keeping him in one piece.”

“Hey!’

“I love you!” Steve winks at him as he steps into the elevator.

Peter chuckles from his stool, chin on his hand as he watches Tony try and fail to pull out of Clint’s hold. His arms are no joke. “Payback’s a bitch, huh?”

Tony narrows his eyes. “Language.”

“Oh the irony,” Clint drawls. “C’mon, Tones.” He pulls Tony towards the elevator with the arm still around his neck. “Let’s get you all prettied up for the investors.”

Phil shrugs at Peter as he drops the magazine on the counter. “If I really had a reason to be worried I’d go after them.”

Peter laughs. “If Clint gets dad out of clothes, it’s only to make him put on cleaner and nicer ones.”

“I hate you both!”

The cabin of the ship is silent, two lone figures sitting at the small table covered in plans, notes, and scrap metal. It’s raining, the two having come in when it was no longer safe to be outside. Those demon creatures like to come out in the darkness. The lesser damaged side of the ship was finished yesterday. With one side to go, tensions are again rising at the thoughts of their missing family members.

Natasha watches as Tony scribbles notes down on the notebook in front of him, things to remember where he was at in his work and sketches of parts he’ll have to re-make, even though he’s barely even awake. She leans over into his side, sliding her arm over his shoulders when he suddenly takes a shuddering breath.

“Things had been busy lately, you know?” he suddenly speaks. His voice is rough from the little use it's gotten the past few days. It's almost a surprise to hear him speak anymore. Much like Thor. “Pepper had me actually do some of my own responsibilities. It was the time of year I go out and meet potential partners and investors. I had a few trips to check out places where we’re expanding into other countries. We call it Investor Hell Month but sometimes it goes longer. This year it did. So for two months, I saw Steve maybe once every other week just long enough to fall into bed and sleep for a few hours. When it was over, all I wanted to do was go home and fall into bed with him and sleep again.” Tony chuckles a little to himself.

Natasha runs her fingers through his hair. Waits for him to continue.

“Instead, I get home and there’s a note on the coffee machine.” He shakes his head. “He knew that’s where I’d go as soon as I got back from a trip. He left me a note about the mission. How he’d be unable to communicate.” He looks down at the paper he had been scribbling plans on. Rewrites the last words of the last note Steve left him. Steve always liked writing notes. Wouldn’t give it up.

Don’t worry. Be safe. Love you.

Natasha’s heart clenches in sympathy. She doesn’t speak. Just watches his hand as he writes out the words and traces over them again and again.

“Then he was gone. For two weeks. I didn’t even hear his voice until Peter called me when they picked him up.” Tony lets out a dry laugh. No trace of any real humor to it. “I was supposed to be able to see him again. We were supposed to come here, support Thor, and go home.”

He shakes his head. His pen runs over the words again and again, each letter turning dark and scratchy. He finally looks to Natasha, eyes wet. “And then there’s Peter.” He sighs, dropping the pen to rub at his eyes. “I never should have let him go get Steve.”

Natasha frowns. “You couldn’t have known this would happen. It should have been a short trip there and back. Hell, this trip should have been short too. It’s not anyone’s fault but those alien races that started a war, catching us in the crossfire.”

Tony doesn’t argue about who holds guilt. He knows it’s useless. “But they’re both gone.” He stares at the words, so dark and scratched into the paper there are rips in the letters. He doesn’t even bother bringing up Clint and Bucky. He loves them as well but Natasha knows that. She’s in the same boat as him. They’re gone too. “What now?” he murmurs to himself.

“They aren’t gone, Tony. Don’t do that.” Her hand closes tightly around his arm. “Don’t give up.”

“They should have been here by now,” he mumbles. He looks at her fingers, too thin and feminine against his skin. He misses the giant hands that always held him so safe after his nightmares. The fingers that would tangle with his own and remind him that, though he was strong, he didn’t have to do it alone. “They should have been here by now and they’re not.” He looks up again, eyes empty. “I’m done.”

Natasha stares at him. “What?”

Tony looks back to the paper. Rips the bottom half with the words on it off, crumples it, and throws it off in a corner. He doesn’t care where it lands. “I’m done.”

Natasha’s hand gets tighter on Tony’s arm, unaware that they’re digging bruises into his skin. “You’re giving up? The Great Tony Stark is-”

Tony explodes. “Why does everyone call me that?” He yanks his arm out of Natasha’s hold though she tries to hold on, not feeling the bruises that will undoubtedly be there later. “I’m not great! I’m not anything special!” He stands, arms flailing as he yells. “Everything around me gets destroyed! Everyone around me dies! There is nothing great about a man who can’t even protect his own family!”

Natasha stands. Her eyes pierce through him. “So what? You’re just going to give up? You’re saying that they’re all dead? That Clint and James aren’t coming back either?”

Tony looks away. It’s silent for what seems like a long time, the quiet deafening in its own right after the outburst that had just occurred. Then, “If they do, I’d be happy for you. I’d be happy to see them too. I miss them. But… I’m done hoping.” He turns, walking away.

Her own pain makes it easy to throw her next words as accurately as one of her knives. “What would Steve say if he knew you gave up?”

Tony stops with a flinch, but doesn’t turn around. “It wouldn’t be the first time I let him down.” The words float to her softly. As if they weren’t even aware themselves that they’d been spoken aloud.

He continues towards his room.

Natasha stares after him, fists clenched at her sides. “They’re not dead,” she hisses, stalking over to the pilot’s seat and falling into it.

“Tony has never dealt with loss well.” Phil appears, sitting in the seat next to her. Having heard the fight, he though it would be best to be someone who could give a little reassurance back to Natasha. Or... belief, rather.

She stares out the window. It’s a while before she speaks again. “What if he’s right, Phil? What if the Demons attacked them or they died because of the crash?  Just because Thor didn't find anything doesn't mean they hadn't died after that.”

Coulson nods. “All possible. But I don’t think so.” He waits for her to look to him before smiling a little. “James and Clint dragged Peter away.  They would have been in one of the back rooms that would survive impact.”

“But Steve was in the front,” she murmurs.

Phil nods. “But he survived once. I like to think that he has even more to live for this time.”

Natasha nods. Steve is alive. He had his son and brothers to save and Tony to get back to. And the rest of them. He’s the leader of the Avengers. He cares for them all.

Phil continues. “As for the Demons, Clint has never been one to miss things. He’s got his eyes out for them. And James has an eighth of an Iron Man suit. He’s got their back. Peter can feel danger coming. He’s like their fire alarm. Together, they’re a formidable team. You know this.”

She nods again.

“I’d like to think that Clint would tear this planet apart to get back to me. And that James would do his best to get back to you. Don’t you believe in him?”

Natasha smiles a little. Thinks of all the times he’s done the impossible. All of the times he’s proven to her that he can, and will, do whatever it takes to keep them all safe. How much he trusted them and they trusted him in return. When she looks back to Coulson again, her eyes are wet. “I used to say love was for children. But children can’t love like this, can they?”

Coulson shakes his head. “Real love, the kind that makes it all worth it, isn’t something that you can keep away. It sucks you in. Makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do. Believe in things that would normally sound ridiculous.” He stands to leave, leaning down to kiss the top of her head in a rare moment of affection. “I know I’ve always made it out of situations that seemed impossible by thinking about Clint. Even before we were truly a couple. He was always a reason to get back.” He shrugs. “Maybe that’s all they’ll need to make it back now.”

Natasha gives him a soft smile. “Maybe.”

He rubs her shoulder before turning away. He passes Sam on his way back to the rooms, leaning close enough to murmur, “She could use a hug.”

Sam chuckles. It’s a sad, flat chuckle. He’s been slowly losing hope as well. “I think I could use one too.”

Phil pats his shoulder before moving on.

Sam moves over to Natasha, fully intending to sit in the other chair but pauses when she stands. His breath catches when she motions to her own chair, meeting his eyes with a challenge to question her. He doesn’t. Instead, he sits and graciously accepts her into his lap. “Hey.”

She settles against his chest, smiling a little at the sigh of content he gives.

It’s odd, how she never noticed just how much Sam calmed her until recently. How many times had she gone to him for company when James was on mission? How many times had he been who she counted on when James was hurt or missing? Come to think of it, there aren’t many instances where Sam wasn’t with either her or Bucky. He always seemed to be there when needed. The days they showed up at his house were after bad nights or rough assignments. His house was a safe place. A place to let go and know that if anything did happen while they were still hurt or exhausted, they’d have a third man on their side.

Third man.

Natasha frowns to herself. Tries to think of the last time she’s seen or heard of Sam dating someone. She has to go back… years. She doesn’t remember him going on a date since the first year she and James started… whatever ridiculous arrangement she allowed them to have back then. Before she started to slowly open up to the idea that… maybe people could be trusted as more than just her partner or friend. Sam hasn’t mentioned a date since. Not once. Instead, the more she thinks about the pizza, movie, and drinking nights she and James had spent at Sam’s house, the more she realizes… Sam was their third wheel. And he never seemed to have any complaints.

“Sam?” She speaks his name before thinking, wincing afterwards. She hopes and prays that he’s fallen-

“Hmmm?”

No such luck. It’s really inconvenient how her mind has decided that Sam is another one of those people that it can relax around. That she doesn’t have to hold tight to training or emotions. Which is another reason why her mind is going down the trail it’s been on the past few minutes. Sam… He’s become one of her People. But more than that…

She decides to be blunt. “Do you love me?”

His answer is immediate. “Of course I do. I love all of you guys.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sam. Are you in love with me?”

He stiffens under her.

Oh. Well. She places a calming hand over his heart, which is starting to speed up under her ear.

“I…” He takes a breath, “I’m not sure… if that’s a trick question or not.”

Ouch. That’s… “I would never try to-”

“I know.” He’s quick to reassure her. “I know that. Maybe back when we first met… I might have thought you could manipulate me if you wanted. But you never did. And I know you won’t now. Which is why this has been so, so hard.”

She sits up now, wanting to see his face. He won’t meet her eyes. “What do you mean?”

He gives a short, bitter laugh. “You don’t even try. Without an ounce of manipulation, I’ve still managed to find myself wrapped around your little finger. Yours and… Bucky’s.” His eyes finally meet hers, heavy with pain and something that looks an awfully lot like guilt.

Which is silly. What could he ever have to feel guilty about? “Sam… you know that… James and I depend on you a lot.” She words it carefully. She’s still figuring out what has been going on without the three of them noticing. She wants to make sure that she’s actually seeing what she thinks she’s seeing. She’s never been good at the real-life relationship stuff.

Sam nods once. He doesn’t look away now. Like he’s resigned himself to whatever comes after this conversation. “I need you guys too.” It’s a soft confession, though no less truthful. He’s been happy with whatever they were willing to give for the past few years. He’d be happy if that’s all he gets for the rest of their lives.

Natasha seems to read that in his eyes. Hers soften even more, if possible. “Sam.” She takes his face in her hands.

He lets his eyes fall closed with a sigh. “I love him too. Both of you. And I couldn’t… I didn’t want to tell you.” His eyes open to meet hers again. “You two together… you grew so much. I didn’t dare touch that.”

Natasha rests her forehead against his. “You were with us every step of the way, Sam.”

And he was. He was there when Steve brought Bucky home. He was there when Natasha and Bucky had their first blow-out about Feelings and Relationships (right in the middle of Sam’s living room, really). He was at the tower when they got back from their first real date. He was there on many of the missions they took, when Natasha first cried in front of them, when Bucky needed a place to sleep while he went through a rough week of overly violent nightmares, and when they finally decided that this was definitely something more than friends with benefits.

That last one was a bittersweet memory. It was the moment he realized that… this is it. This is when he knows for sure that he’ll never have either one. He was happy for them. That’s all that mattered. That’s what he told himself.

Natasha sits up enough to pull his head down into her shoulder. She runs her fingers softly over the back of his head. “When they get back,” she murmurs, “And they will get back, we are going to have a long talk. The three of us.”

“I miss him too,” Sam mutters into her neck.

Natasha hums. “I know.” Sam hasn’t been sleeping well either and she's starting to wonder just how often his nights of a well-rested sleep coincide with the nights she and Bucky had stayed over. “Rest now. We’ll talk more later.” She settles down into his lap again, pulling his arms around her as she lays her head back on his chest.

Sam holds her close, resting his cheek against her head. “I’m glad I came with you.”

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

Natasha nods to Clint as she steps into the kitchen. “Morning.”

“Mornin’.”

“Coffee?”

“In the pot.”

She moves over to grab the pot, blinking when Clint holds his arm out, his own mug in hand.

“Mine got cold while I was getting my cereal.” He offers a crooked grin.

Natasha rolls her eyes but tops off Clint’s mug.

He sighs in content after taking a drink. “What are you doing today? Wanna head down to that new place on fifth?”

She hums as she pours her own cup. “Maybe another day. Bucky and I are going over to Sam’s.”

Clint huffs. “I see how it is. Left alone again while you play with your favorite boy toys.”

“Don’t be crude.” She flicks his ear. “Sam’s had a rough week so Bucky and I thought it’d be nice to take his mind off of things.”

“I know,” Clint sighs. “I had him come over to do some more practice with the bow yesterday to give him something to take his mind off of it. He’s getting pretty good.”

Natasha is sad she missed that. Clint and Sam were always fun to be around when they were at the archery range. “Go bother Phil,” she suggests. “It’s been a while since you guys have gone out.”

Clint nods, pouting into the top of his mug. “It has. He’s at the office today though. Finishing up the meetings and paperwork for a baby strike team that just got back from an op yesterday. He has other paperwork to do too but I might still stop by his office to bug him. A date night sounds nice. Maybe I can steal him away.”

Natasha chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

He glares at her. “Well maybe I’d be able to do it if my partner in crime hadn’t ditched me for our other bird of prey and Jack Frost.”

Bucky snorts as he enters the room, flicking the back of Clint’s head as he makes his way to the coffee pot. “You better not have finished the coffee.”

Clint rubs the back of his head after flinching away from the sharp sting. “You’re a bastard. I would have if I knew you’d be the next one to walk in.”

“Don’t be pissy just because Natasha has a new favorite.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Please. I love all of my birds equally.” She grins when her phone lights up. She puts it on speaker. “Speaking of birds…”

“I think we have enough,” Sam’s voice comes through the phone with humor. “I think Clint will get offended if you keep collecting.”

“Thank you!” Clint calls out with a bright grin. “I knew you were my new favorite!”

Sam’s deep chuckle sounds fond. “You guys still coming over later?”

Bucky moves over to lean on the counter next to the phone. “We’ll head over in a few hours and pick up drinks on the way.”

“Sounds good. Pizza okay? I’ll order our usual. Just let me know when you’re on your way.”

“Pizza is always fine. We’ll see you later, okay?” Natasha hangs up after Sam’s confirmation and turns to Clint where he’s letting out a sad whine. “What now, you big baby?”

“I want pizza.” He pouts.

Natasha rolls her eyes as she leaves. “Order your own.”

Bucky hops up to sit on the counter and steal the rest of Clint’s cereal. He makes a face at the soggy texture.

Clint laughs at the look. “That’s what you get.” Then his face turns a bit more serious, though there’s still a hint of humor in his eyes. “Our other little birdy told me he likes it when you guys stay over,” he tells Bucky quietly.

Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t be telling other’s secrets, Clint.”

Clint shrugs. “Wasn’t a secret. We were just talking about how you guys spend only half of your time in the tower and he said, and I quote, ‘It’s nice when Bucky and Natasha stay over. The house feels less empty.’”

Bucky sets the cereal bowl down. It’s too squishy to even bother eating. “And? Why is that something worth telling us? If he wants to live in the tower, Tony would gladly give him a floor.”

Clint stares at him for a second, head tilted. His gaze seems oddly heavy. Then he shrugs, looking away. “No reason. I just thought you’d like to know that you guys were appreciated.” He sighs as he stands. “And idiots.”

Bucky blinks, watching Clint leave the kitchen with just a bit of confusion. He brushes it off. Clint doesn’t always make sense anyway.

Bucky and Clint are both awake early. They check in with Steve, taking note of his still high temperature and the slight bit of red bleeding through the bandages. Opting to let him sleep longer, they decide to change them later. Instead, they finally take stock of each other.

Bucky hisses in sympathy when he sees the dark purple bruising running down along Clint’s side. “Anything feel broken?” He gently prods along the splotches of color to check for major damage.

Clint grunts when Bucky’s flesh hand gets to his hip. “Not until there.”

Bucky’s lips thin into a tight line as he starts feeling up and around his hip bone. When Clint doesn’t do more than groan, he lets out a relieved breath. “You wouldn’t have been able to keep back a sound if anything was bad there. You’re just really bruised up.” Before he can make him turn to check his wrapped up bicep, Clint lets himself fall into Bucky's chest to rest his forehead on his shoulder with a sigh. Bucky freezes, hands still on Clint’s hips.

“Just… give me a minute.” Clint’s eyes sting and he squeezes them shut. Hiding in Bucky’s shoulder isn’t the most ideal way to hide his tears, but his need for a hug had won out. Besides his bodily injuries, he suddenly feels incredibly raw.

Bucky doesn’t mind, arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders. “Thank you. For watching over us as we fell apart last night.”

Clint nods against his shoulder.

Bucky chuckles. “It’s okay if you need to fall apart now.”

“Don’t wanna.” A sharp sniff.

“Okay.” Bucky cups the back of his neck. He understands. Clint is holding off. They’re getting so close. He’s holding strong with the thought of getting comfort from Phil once they get back to the ship. Bucky doesn’t blame him. He himself desperately wants Natasha and Sam in touching distan- His thoughts stutter to a stop. And Sam. “Huh,” he breathes aloud.

Clint finally lifts his head, raw eyes looking up in question.

Bucky looks down at him. “Nothing. Sorry. Just… had a revelation, I think.”

“With me in your arms?”

“Shut up, Barton.”

Clint manages the smallest twitch of a grin.

Bucky treats the nasty cut above Clint's eye and the gash on his bicep before letting Clint poke and prod at his own head. After Clint gives Bucky his once-over, they set some meals to heat with raw eyes and shaking hands. Nothing seems to hold much meaning anymore. There aren’t any tired grins or rousing jokes. It’s quiet. There’s a fourth pack sitting off to the side that they need to divide among the three of them.

They don’t want to.

Bucky looks worriedly over to Steve when the planet’s light source is high in the sky and he still hasn’t woken up. “Should I wake him?”

Cling shakes his head. “We’ll give him whatever time he needs to heal and… pull himself together. We’ll move on when he’s ready.” Clint’s voice is rough and dull. Just thinking of moving on is a pain that makes his limbs feel heavy. Moving on without Peter…

Bucky nods, as if reading his mind. “I don’t want to leave either.” As if Peter is going to just walk out of the woods smiling and laughing. As if he’s going to jump out crying “Gotchya!”

It’s ridiculous how much they’d prefer that. A tasteless joke would be better than their current reality.

They eat though they don’t taste it. It’s just energy to keep them alert and ready for the last leg of their journey. Bucky disappears for a while, returning with the canteens full of water. “Finally found a stream.” He sets all but one next to Steve, sharing the one with Clint until it’s gone.

Steve wakes up a little after what can be considered mid-day.

He doesn’t move at first. Just stares off into the distance with empty eyes. It takes both Bucky and Clint to get him to drink and eat something before he passes out again, body still working in overdrive to get him stable. He’s still pale when he falls back to sleep but he doesn’t look ashen anymore. A good sign.

“He’ll make it,” Clint sighs after changing Steve’s bandages. If Steve scarred, he’d have quite the design down his side when all is said and done. Clint is honestly impressed Bucky had managed to get the stitches done so nicely with how out of it he had looked last night.

Bucky lets out a relieved breath. Despite the dark thought he had the night before, if they lost anyone else, he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it. He sharpens one of his knives to a razor's edge as a therapeutic, menial task before agreeing with Clint and allowing him to shave his beard down to a thinner layer of scruff with it and doing the same to both Clint and Steve afterwards. It uses some of their water and it's not very comfortable doing it without cream, but it's a small task that settles their mind for a while and makes them feel just a bit more like themselves.

It’s not until that evening that Clint pulls the extra pack over. “I can’t keep staring at it. I’m going insane.”

There’s not much to divide. Their food had been getting short and there weren’t many real belongings for Peter to have been carrying. In the end Clint walks away with the makeshift frame and the empty bag to throw it into the forest nearby. Having it in their sight would only get more painful as time went on. He sets the single remaining item of clothing that was stashed in the bag on top of Steve’s pack, fingers trailing across the worn cloth.

He recognizes it as Tony’s favorite jacket.

As light fades, Steve starts shifting as if entering another nightmare. They rouse him before it gets bad, keeping him awake long enough to get him to eat another meal, drink some water, and sit up enough to relieve himself and let Clint finally change the bandages. He doesn’t say a single word the entire time. He’s asleep again almost before he’s laying down.

“His temperature feels closer to normal,” Bucky murmurs. Brushes the longer fringe of hair away from Steve’s forehead. He turns to Clint. “Your arm doing okay?”

“It feels a little hot, but that’s to be expected. We don’t have any more alcohol pads so it might be fighting infection. It’ll hold out until we get to the ship and can raid their kit.”

Neither think about the possibility that the ship isn’t there.

They each take half the night to watch, morning bringing yet another day of pain and distress.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs. Over and over again as he holds a silently crying Steve. It was like breaking the news all over again when he had woken up and realized Peter was still gone. That it wasn’t a dream.

Clint doesn’t look over from where he’s heating up the food.

Steve leans into Bucky’s side as the other forces him to eat, the silence heavy and loaded.

When they’re done, Clint rids them of their trash before sitting next to the embers of their fire with a sigh.

It’s quiet for a long time.

“We should get moving.” It’s Bucky who finally gathers the courage to break the silence.

Steve doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

“Steve.”

Clint finally turns to them. “We can wait. Whenever he’s ready.”

“None of us are ever going to be ready,” Bucky growls. “But we’re going to get up off our asses and move because all we have left now is the hope that they’ll be at the ship. I’m not going to let us stay out here longer and chance another attack.”

“And what if they’re not there?” Steve’s voice is so faint, only Bucky hears him.

Clint still knows exactly what he said when he sees Bucky’s face start contorting in concern and fear before turning towards encouraging. “Hey.”

They look to him.

“It’s like Tony’s favorite theory I reminded Peter of before we started looking for you after the crash: You can’t tell whether the cat is alive or dead when it’s inside the box. So don’t you dare come up with a conclusion just yet.”

When Steve speaks again, his voice is bitter. “There’s a difference between Schrodinger’s theory and being willfully ignorant.”

Clint curses under his breath.

Bucky sighs, “Shit, Steve.”

Steve’s gaze stays forward and empty, but he shrugs. “To not acknowledge the fact that something could have happened to the others by now would be willful ignorance. What a lot of people forget, the reason Tony likes to think about it, is that Schrodinger’s theory only holds true if the box is never opened. If we never make it back to them. But we will. There will be an answer for us. To not be prepared for the worst would be foolish.”

Bucky rubs a hand over his eyes. “I’m too tired for this.”

“You can’t apply a theory to real life. In life, a theory is always proven true or false. There is eventually a conclusion. The only way to apply the damn cat theory is to never go back. Then we can pretend they’re alive all we want.” His voice turns harshly venomous as he continues, “We can be eternally, willfully ignorant optimists-”

“Then how about we just choose to be optimists?” Clint interrupts softly. He waits until Steve finally turns back to him before continuing. “Forget the theory. You’re right. It’s stupid. I’ve always hated it because there was no conclusion but I used it to keep Peter hopeful. Obviously, it’s not working for you. So let’s make a new one.”

Steve’s head tilts.

Clint accepts the cue to continue. “We’re going back. Why? If they’re already dead, there’s no reason to get back to them. But we’re trying. Because we have hope. Hope is much like Schrodinger’s theory I guess, as if it were a theory of a favorable conclusion though we don’t really know the true out come. The box is still closed right now. Therefore, the conclusion we are accepting as a reason to continue is that they’re alive.” Clint shrugs. “It’s the only conclusion I’m going to accept until proven otherwise. Which would also mean that we have to get to the ship.”

Steve makes a considering sound as he turns to stare off into the far distance again. But… it’s something.

Bucky prompts him. “C’mon. Where’s that stubborn punk I know and love?”

“I don’t know.” He sounds fragile. Broken and lost.

“Well until you find him again, we’ll be stubborn for you.” Clint tries for a grin. He doesn’t quite succeed, but Steve appreciates the effort.

With a nod, Steve finally moves to start loading up their packs. “Alright then.”

Bucky and Clint turn away to do the same.

Steve’s jaw tics when he adds the food rations Clint and Bucky had set to the side into his own bag. His hands shake when he picks up the last clean jacket Peter had been determined to save for the end of their journey so that it wouldn’t get ruined. It was one Peter had ultimately stolen from Tony’s closet once he had left for Investor Hell Month. He swore up and down that it was the most comfortable jacket in the tower. This isn’t the first time Peter has stolen this particular jacket, so it must be true.

Steve lifts it to his nose, eyes watering when he’s overwhelmed with both Peter’s and Tony’s scents. He squeezes them shut, fighting back a new wave of tears. He stuffs the jacket into the top of his bag before he can break down again, pushing himself to his feet. He’s shaky, but he stands and practically growls at Bucky when he moves to pick up Steve’s pack. “I’ve got it.”

Bucky doesn’t press, having witnessed Steve’s moment seconds before. It’s understandable that Steve would want to carry that weight alone.

For now, they let him.

Clint checks their last working phone for the direction they need to head and starts leading the way. “C’mon. Let’s finish this.”

If they were quiet before, they’re silent as a tomb now. None of them bring up their missing member again. Can’t handle thinking about the absence beside them or how they’re going to tell everyone else. They don’t laugh. They don’t smile. At night they set up camp and light their fire, eat food they don’t taste, and barely sleep long enough to get any real rest.

The comfort of sleep seems to have disappeared with Peter.

In the end, they start traveling well into the night (even though the darkness slows them down) and waking with the dawn to continue. It’s better that way. The less time they have to think, the easier it is. It also makes it easier for them to stop when Steve needs a moment to rest as his body slowly heals itself. They make steady progress with more frequent breaks.

Having fought off the most recent pack of beasts, they don’t get bothered again. However, they’re all aware of the movements in the far distance that tell them they haven’t exactly been left alone.

Chapter Text

Steve leans against the doorway, smiling at the scene that greets him. It’s a sight for sore, tired eyes that haven’t even seen anywhere other than army bases and D.C. in the better part of almost two months. Over those two months, he’s questioned himself a million times. Asked himself why he even agreed to be away for so long. As much as he was glad to help, glad to be a part of the army again, he’s missed this. Too damn much. He’s never leaving for that long again.

His eyes move over the scene in front of him, his heart hurting with how much he loves this man. Tony is slumped over his desk, head pillowed on his arm, mouth open with a soft snore. His suit jacket is thrown haphazardly over the back of his chair, the sleeves of his button-up are rolled up, and his tie is hanging from the desk next to his arm, an inch away from being heavy enough to slide the rest of the way over the edge.

It’s mid-afternoon. The sun shines through the wall of widows and covers the scene in soft light from their darkened shade. Courtesy of Jarvis most likely, having been integrated into the room after an attack on Tony’s office. It made everyone breathe a little easier knowing that Tony had a direct line to the tower from his office without even having to pick up a phone.

Steve hears the murmuring of the people behind him, a sort of gathering happening as they all notice him standing there. They know he’s been gone a long time. Steve shows up a few times a month to have lunch with his husband. He’s no stranger to the office now that Tony is actually becoming someone who can show up to meetings on time and is filling the breaks between “avenging shit” with running his company, much to Pepper’s delight.

Tony has probably been grouchier than usual, tipping everyone off that Steve has been gone a little too long, but it’s also been no secret that Captain America has been helping with training exercises on military bases as they make plans for super powered threats. The office team? They’re waiting to see the reunion. Even though their separation wasn’t as long as the men and women currently serving in active duty, it was long enough for the office team to know it’s going to be quite the sight. Sure, Tony could have flown to him in the Iron Man armor, but with the amount of traveling Steve was doing and the training he had to juggle, they both agreed beforehand that they’d be professionals and stick to phone calls.

Pepper steps up to his shoulder. “Do you want me to take phones away?”

Steve chuckles. “Nah. If they want to catch a video of Tony getting happy I’m back, it’ll be a much better video than others have posted.”

“Very well. Please take him home and make sure he gets a decent shower. The past few days have been very stressful with deals and internal changes of the company and as much as I, and everyone else, are happy he’s taken his duties seriously, we all would like a fresh-smelling Tony Stark come tomorrow.”

Steve clears his throat as she turns away. “Actually… are there any important meetings tomorrow, Pepper?”

She pauses, turning with a smile. “No.”

He grins. “Cancel everything tomorrow. My husband will be spending family time with me and our son.”

She nods in agreement, not even trying to hide her approving smile. “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

Steve smiles brightly back, never getting over how much Pepper has come to love him as much as she loves Tony. When she started using the same phrase on him, he finally felt as if he was part of the family. “That will be all, Miss. Potts.”

Pepper shakes her head and doesn't bother correcting him with her new last name.  She knows he and Tony use "Potts" out of familiarity.

Steve turns back to the room, well aware that Pepper didn’t go far. She’s always been a sucker for seeing Tony happy too. He smiles to himself. “Tony.”

The man doesn’t move.

Steve chuckles. “Tooony. Hey, Tony.”

Tony shifts, head flipping to face the other way as he lets out a questioning sound.

Steve feels his heart swell. “I love you.”

“L’ve you too,” comes softly mumbled back to him.

His cheeks hurt with the force of his smile. “That’s all I get? I’ve been gone for weeks. Don’t I at least get a hug? A kiss?”

Tony’s shoulders tense up as Steve talks until he finally pushes himself up off the desk and spins to lock eyes with him in the doorway, finally making the desk shudder enough to cause the tie to fall. “Steve.”

Steve opens his arms. “Still waiting for that hug.”

Tony stalks over to him.

Steve laughs, loud and joyous as Tony slams into his arms, needing to take a balancing step backwards from the force of the collision, super soldier or not.

“I missed you so damn much. Don’t you ever go away for that long again, Steven! I thought I was going to go crazy. You can ask Peter. Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re back.”

Steve only holds him close, content to not let him go. Tony seems to have no problem with that, hands gripping the back of Steve’s jacket like a lifeline. He lets out a deep, content hum. “I missed you too. I’m never leaving for that long again.” He pulls back enough for Tony’s arms to slide up and grab his face before he’s pulled back down into a deep kiss. He chuckles at the sound he gets from nipping Tony’s lip and feels himself center. “I fuckin’ missed you,” he murmurs.

Tony chuckles. “Cameras, Dearest, cameras.”

“Don’t give a shit,” he mutters, now close enough to Tony’s ear to definitely not be overheard by a camera. He nips Tony’s neck, this side of him still facing his empty office.

Tony laughs through his shudder. “Alright, everyone! Show’s over. Get back to work. I did my part over the past few days, it’s your job to tie up the loose ends of paperwork. I’m going home with my husband and enjoying the rest of tonight-”

“And tomorrow.”

“-and tomorrow- Wait. Tomorrow? Oh my god I love you! I won’t be back tomorrow!” He smiles up at Steve.

Steve kisses his forehead. “You stayed here for, what? Two days?”

Tony cringes. “Three.”

Steve snorts. “Oh god. No wonder you smell like you’ve been on a workshop binge.” He chuckles as Tony shrugs his shoulders guiltily.

“We had some transitioning to do and I stayed up crunching numbers most nights. I made sure the others were keeping an eye on Peter, but he’s a big boy. Apparently he doesn’t need help to get ready for school anymore, Steve. How did this happen?! Anyway I made sure he was watched and he knew this was a one-time deal and-”

“Shhhh, love,” Steve murmurs with a smile. “I know. You’ve been talking about how much of a bitch this switchover would be. You handled it well, according to Pepper. She’s proud.”

“But now I should probably get a shower,” Tony murmurs, looking up sheepishly after getting a whiff of himself.

“You probably should.”

A few murmured ‘thank god’s sound through the hall.

Tony glares. “I hate you all!”

Steve chuckles, kissing his temple. “Tell the truth, Tony.”

Tony sighs. “Fine, I love you all. Good job over the past few days. You all did good work. Now goodbye.” He yanks a laughing Steve after him, neither able to quell the smiles stretching across their faces.

Natasha turns her back as Tony begins to weld a piece of plating back on to the ship, not having any eye protection herself. It’s not like there’s much for her to watch anyway. Tony watching duty never used to be this boring. It used to be tedious. Exciting, even. Though, she’d never admit that. Now? There’s not much of Tony left to watch.

Ever since the blowout a couple weeks ago, he’s been silent. It’s been worrying enough that Rhodey had thrown himself on the floor between Natasha and Sam when they had been resting in one of the rooms to vent and worry to them. Loudly and for a very long time. He hadn’t minded Natasha Laying her head on his chest or Sam brushing down his arm intermittently as he ranted to them from his spot on his back between them. Rhodey wasn’t usually one to join in any of their puppy piles that seemed to happen often at the tower, so to be so open and tactile was a tell in itself. He was nearing the end of his rope and didn’t know how much longer he could keep Tony from falling off the edge of a cliff he was obviously toeing.

After he was done ranting, Rhodey had given a deep, gusty sigh. “I just… don’t know what to do. I haven’t seen him shut down like this in a long time. He hasn't even finished a meal in weeks and it's starting to show.”

Sam had hummed in agreement to his worry. “I understand though. I did the same thing after Riley died. Sometimes the only way to protect yourself from the worst you can do to yourself is to shut down.”

“Think about it,” Natasha murmured. “He thinks he’s lost both his husband and his son. Two of the most important people in his life. The fact that he’s still working shows that he cares for us as well. Enough that he wants to get us home. He's doing what is needed to keep going and finish fixing the ship. If… if they don’t make it back to us, the time to worry about Tony would be after we return home.”

“But we won’t have to worry about that,” Sam had reassured firmly, reaching across Rhodey’s chest to take her hand. “Because they’ll get here.”

Rhodey had brought his hand up to rest over both of theirs with a soft sigh. “I hope so.”

It’s been a couple days since that talk. Tonight, Rhodey has finally been banished to sleep a while so Natasha is taking her Tony watching duty. Sam might join her in a few hours. For now, she slides off of the wing in silence, opting to take a perimeter walk around the ship as Tony continues to weld. The sound drastically fades as she steps around the side, the bulk of metal blocking the noise easily as she looks up into the sky. Her eyes track the stars that are becoming too familiar for her taste. She begrudgingly admits that they’re beautiful, but would rather be back on earth with their familiar constellations and moon.

A rustle of leaves catches her attention.

She disappears into a nearby shadow in an instant, eyes scanning the trees around her. She doesn’t doubt her ability to get back to the ship if anything were to make themselves known, but worries for Tony. Even though he’s got a live weapon in his hand right now, there’s no telling if he’s even capable of the mindset to use it. Since his declaration of giving up, the only effort he’s shown for anything is fixing the ship. A confrontation wouldn’t be something she wants to risk with the way he’s been ghosting through the motions of life.

She waits. Strains her ears for another sound. When nothing comes, she steps around the tree she had taken cover beneath and takes a look around. Nothing. The night is silent besides the slightest sound of Tony still welding away at the ship. She makes the mistake of letting her thoughts rest on that sound, missing the shape moving up behind her.

She’s grabbed from behind, a large hand over her mouth and an arm around her waist, holding her back against a hard chest. Natasha struggles to pull away, only able to make sounds in the back of her throat. The arms don’t budge, and she freezes as she runs through the best maneuvers that would get herself free.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here by yourself?” a deep voice growls in her ear.

The hand moves up enough to let her talk, but covers her eyes instead. She wracks her brain for anything that would have indicated another humanoid species living here despite Thor’s insistence that it was an uninhabited planet. “Who-”

“You mean you don’t recognize me?” A low chuckle that starts to warm something inside her that’s been cold for a time. Then, “How about this voice?” A softer version of the growled voice comes from the body behind her.

She freezes, the recognition of the chuckle making sense in an instant. She shifts around in the hold, relaxing enough to find the familiarity in the almost silent whirring sound that the arm connected to the gloved hand covering her eyes makes. Her breath catches. “James?” Keeping herself from hoping drastically skewed her perspective on this situation. It’s laughable that just his voice being different could fool her. But… she hasn’t been at top form lately. She can be honest with herself.

“You don’t sound very sure,” the voice murmurs into her ear. It’s gently amused.

“I’m scared,” she whispers. Admits. She takes a breath. Forces herself to do what she promised and let her walls fall. “I’ve been dreaming about you coming back for the past few weeks.”

The hand leaves her eyes to rest on her shoulder, but the arm around her waist doesn’t disappear. She keeps her eyes closed, feeling the presence next to her move to stand in front of her, hand trailing around her waist to rest on her hip. She smiles as she opens her eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

He grins. “I’ve missed you too.”

She leaps into his arms, mouths colliding in a fierce kiss before she buries her face into his neck.

Bucky holds her to him, breathing in her scent as he turns his face into her hair. “Tasha.” He sighs her name in relief. He lets his eyes fall closed and admits his own weakness, unashamed in the midst of her own crumbling walls. “I was so scared.”

“Me too,” she chokes out. She takes his face into her hands when he sets her down. “Ты в порядке?” Are you okay?

He smiles softly. “Я в порядке.” I’m fine. “Sam? The others?”

She smiles back. “He’s good. They’re good. Where are the rest?” she asks, looking around.

Clint steps out of the shadows a few feet away. “’Bout time you asked.”

Natasha sighs, hugging him tightly as he walks up to her. “Hey, Clint.”

He hugs her tightly back, his low chuckle warm and loving. “Hey, Nat.” He kisses her cheek, running a hand through her hair. “It’s so good to see you. How’s Phil?”

“He’s okay.” She squeezes his shoulders tightly. “He’ll be so- God, Clint.” She pulls back, kissing his cheek in return. “He’s missed you but he’s okay.” Her brows furrow slightly. “Steve?”

“Turn around.”

She doesn’t even tense, unafraid in her new company, her smile widening when she turns. “Hey, big guy.” She hugs him tightly, happy but surprised when his arms close around her just a bit too tightly.

“You alright?” she asks, just to be sure. When she pulls back, her smile falls as she sees the obvious pain on his face. She looks around, noting the fourth member of their ship never showed.

Bucky looks away when she looks questioningly to him. “We… had a run-in with some… monsters.” He spits the word out as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

She looks frantically to Clint then. When she doesn’t get a further explanation, she turns back to Steve placing a hand against his cheek. “Tell me he’s alive,” she pleads. Her own love for Peter wells up, but a thought to Tony makes her frantic. Even with Steve’s return, he stands a very big chance of falling apart. “Tell me those demons didn’t hurt my nephew.”

Bucky feels fear grip him, his suspicions confirmed. They have seen them around here too. Fought them off most likely.

Steve can’t look her in the eyes. “I can’t.”

Clint steps up, hand resting at the small of her back. “It’s been… rough,” he murmurs raggedly.

A hand comes up to cover her mouth as her eyes fall closed.

Bucky steps closer to her again as Steve takes a step away. He rests his hands on her hips and presses his chest to her back, unable to resist the urge to stay as close to her as possible. “We did everything we could. We tried. They… we were outnumbered.”

Natasha nods as she leans back into his chest, understanding all too well. They didn’t have a ship for protection. They didn’t have bullets or replacement arrows. They weren’t helpless, but no one can be expected to keep such strong and angry creatures away forever. She looks back to Steve, hurting for him when he glances at her with red-rimmed eyes. She notices now, how much older he looks. His shoulders are slumped, making him look incredibly tired and worn and his entire being seems to be drained. Her heart hurts for them when she realizes he doesn’t look much unlike Tony.

She wipes away the single tear she allows to fall. Now is not the time. She can fall apart later. For now, she pulls on her dusty cloak of Indifference to steady herself. “Steve…”

“Don’t,” he interrupts quietly. Sharply. “I’m trying to keep it together until I see Tony,” he murmurs. Sniffs. “I don’t want the first thing I have explain is why I’m crying and our son isn’t…” he trails off, swallowing sharply.

Natasha nods. “Okay. But… Steve…” She doesn’t know how to tell him. Doesn’t know how to explain the Tony Stark that has been ghosting around their ship for the past couple of weeks. Telling Steve that Tony gave up on him… He’s already lost his son. How do you tell him that it’s going to look like he’s lost his husband?

Steve is already walking past her, eyes on the ship and ears picking up the all-too-familiar sounds of welding. His heart rate spikes as soon as his eyes land on the figure sitting in front of the sparking tool, feeling a weight lifted the same time a fist squeezes around his heart. Good God he’s missed this man. He’s frozen to the spot, unable to stop soaking in the image of his husband working. Something he thought he’d never see again.

It isn’t until Tony puts the welder down, lifting off the shield, that he finally gets to see his face and feels an irresistible tug that has him moving forward before he even realizes he’s doing it. “Tony.”

Tony has set the welder down and picked up a serrated knife to cut a bad wire, unable to locate his wire cutters. He whirls around when Steve says his name, startling so bad that he lashes out with the knife before the voice can register. When he sees Steve, his eyes narrow. “What is wrong with you? You don’t just come up behind someone with something sharp in their hand! What, did you lose your common sense on your way here?!”

Steve backs away with his hands raised. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I don’t really want to explain to everyone how I killed you by stabbing you right when you got back!”

Steve narrows his eyes at the blade being waved in front of his face. He finally snatches it away. “If you wave it in my face, you could stab me anyway! Don’t do that!”

Tony doesn’t say anything back, jaw clenching before he just turns to leave.

Steve is frozen where he stands, unable to comprehend the sight of Tony just walking away from him. “Tony…” Steve feels like a fish, mouth opening and closing in silence before he finally gets out, “You… you aren’t happy to see me?”

Tony grits his teeth, hands balling into fists at his side as he stutters to a stop.

Steve notices, a sick and painful feeling coiling in his gut. Tony’s mad at him. “I… I didn’t mean for it to take so long,” he chokes out. He feels guilty for not bringing up Peter. But… one thing at a time.

Tony turns to him. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t…”

“I missed you Tony.” Steve takes a step but freezes when he sees Tony jerk back. He swallows. “And I know you missed me too. Otherwise you wouldn’t be acting like this.” He knows Tony. He always uses anger to cover up the real problem. If he could just…

Tony grits his teeth. “It doesn’t matter.”

Steve’s chest feels constricted with the panic welling up inside him. What’s going on? “What do you mean? Why do you keep saying that? Why won’t you look at me? Just talk to me.” He hates how plaintive his voice sounds.

Tony finally turns to meet his eyes, shocking him with their indifference. “None of it matters. Because I can’t do this. I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.” He turns to head up the stairs of the ship.

Steve watches after him, jaw clenched and hands shaking as his mind tries to wrap around what Tony just said. Can’t keep… There has to be more to it. If Tony would just talk to him… Ice spreads through his chest as he wonders if Peter’s absence right now is obvious to Tony. If maybe he doesn’t want to ever speak to Steve again. But… he can’t let him just walk away without one last protest. “Tones. Just… tell me what you need. Please? What can I do?”

Tony doesn’t turn. At the top of the steps, he throws one last hit over his shoulder. “Nothing.” He continues inside without looking back.

Steve feels his remaining strength seep out of him and he slowly lowers himself to a crouch before his legs give out. He falls to a sit in the grass as a burning heat starts to make its way through his chest.

He’s lost them both.

Chapter Text

An interview with the Avengers.
New York’s Heroes or… Modern Day Family?

Avengers Tower is impossible to miss. Towering over the nearby buildings with the glowing ‘A’ aesthetically placed adjacent to an aircraft landing pad, the building should be ridiculed as a beacon for all trouble intent on finding the protectors of the people of our country as well as the rest of the world. Instead, it’s almost eerie how quiet it’s been since all of the Avengers have taken up residence in the tower. It has been a few years now, and anyone who lives in the area would be hard pressed to recall a time when there was real, concerning trouble at the tower.

“Oh we’ve had trouble,” Bruce Banner speaks up with a nod. He’s in the middle of arguing with Mr. Stark about something I could never dream of understanding. They have multiple projections floating around them in the main room, the blue shapes and numbers tossed back and forth like projectiles at each other as they try to tear holes in the other’s argument. It’s an endearing peak into the minds of the two geniuses.

Mr. Stark perks up at the talk of trouble, turning to smirk at me as he unerringly pushes a projection across the room to disintegrate as it “collides” with Banner’s face. The other man only sighs, taking off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose as if warding off an impending headache. “Nothing is ever trouble for long,” Mr. Stark assures with a confidence gained from countless wins against said troubles, no doubt. “We have too many skills available in here to let anything get out of hand. If they insist on trying to get us on our home turf, we’ll be kind enough to show them our full roster of powers and… quirks? Can I call your anger a quirk, Banner?”

On the other side of the room, a dressed down Thor is shoving a yelling Hawkeye as they play video games on the largest couch. Steve Stark (formerly Rogers) stands behind said couch, alternating between watching the pair tussle and throwing fond glances over at the two geniuses arguing. There’s no doubting his love for the team. When asked about his thoughts on the skills and competence of those who can call themselves “Avengers”, the firm quality to his voice leaves no room for argument.

“There isn’t a single member that I would say I can’t trust with my life,” Steve tells me with a calm smile and a shrug of his wide shoulders.

Behind him, Hawkeye loses his grip on the game controller in his hand, letting out a dismayed cry as it imbeds itself into the TV.

Steve doesn’t flinch. “Not a single one,” he re-iterates.

The twitch of his eye may just be a trick of the light.

Other members of the team aren’t available for comment, “Some are out on assignment, while others have requested time off from the roster,” Steve informs us. When asked about the expanding roster, he seems to stand a bit straighter. “We are always open to adding to the team. We always like to add to the list of those who can fight on our side and are always open to expanding the family.”

With the mentioning of an expanding family, I lead in to the most-touchy of questions listed in my notes for the day; Is it true there’s about to be an expansion of the Stark family?

Mr. Stark, Tony, as he requested I call him multiple times now, freezes at the question the same time Steve’s head whips around to look for him. It’s astounding how in sync the two are. Steve motions for him to walk over when their eyes meet, taking his hand when he’s within reach. “I see it’s impossible to demand discretion these days. Things like this happen a lot, but I’m still surprised every time.”

When assured I mean no ill will and won’t print anything they don’t want me to, Tony finally speaks up. “It’s true. Though I never would have made the decision to do so on my own, with Steve at my side I feel like I can do a lot of things I would have otherwise never done.”

“Besides,” Clint calls from the couch, “having unlimited Uncles and Aunts? How would that ever be bad for him?”

Thor chuckles at his side. “I too, agree. Do you not have the saying, ‘It takes a village’?”

He has a point. Having been granted a small bit of insight to the Avengers as a ‘family’ rather than a ‘team’, I myself have come to see them as the role models half of the media has decided they are. The other half?

“There’s always going to be someone who has something bad to say about you,” Steve agrees with a nod. “Why would I let that determine how I live my life when…” he shrugs, “So far, I haven’t. I’m not going to start now.”

As well he shouldn’t. I will admit to bias, as having been granted permission inside their home only because Steve has expressed his gratitude for the way I write my articles. However, after my time talking and observing, I’ve come to understand something: There’s nothing different about them than any other family. Sure, they may be able to do a few extra things like lift a car without breaking a sweat or pin a fly to the wall with a tooth-pick (Clint is all too eager to show off his talents), but as a family? What is there to vilify?

Tony suddenly grins as we’re wrapping up, winking at me. “Also, you’re a couple years too late.”

Steve snorts at his side, biting his lip in an attempt to stop a grin. When I turn to him, however, he can’t keep it away anymore. His eyes are alight with glee as if he’s about to share a great secret. And actually… he does. “We adopted him two years ago.”

***

“You’re really going to hang it?”

Steve shrugs. “It’s a good article.” He steps back after hanging the framed second page next to the first. “I like the way it describes us.” He smiles softly at the only image to accompany the words. The photographer that had come with the writer had taken many shots, but this one… All who got to pre-approve the article had decided that this photo is the only one needed. It was the last photo taken; Tony’s self-satisfied grin and Steve’s mischievous smile as they share a secret they had successfully kept for two years before even a leak had gotten out. “Also, this is proof that we successfully kept a secret from the media for two years.”

“I think that's a new record,” Tony agrees with a laugh.

“It was important,” Steve points out with a shrug. “Time as a family before ridicule could dig itself into your thoughts.” He kisses Tony’s head. “C’mon. Let’s go get him from school.”

Bucky sighs as he watches Tony go inside the ship, leaving Steve adrift in his wake. “I can’t believe him.”

Natasha gives him a soft smile. “Before all of this happened, Steve was the one he could let his guard down around. To relax and let him be the strong one for a while. He’s had that for a long time and wasn’t used to not having it anymore. Without Steve, he’s been falling apart. I think a part of him resents him for that.”

Bucky frowns, thinking about that. He digs into her eyes, finding something different in there. “You’ve seen him break down.”

She nods, looking down. “Couple times. The most he’s ever allowed me to see. And… they were never about the rebuild.” She looks up to him. “They were always about Steve. That he could be dead. And Peter. Losing the only son he’s ever hoped to have.” She sighs again. “No matter what we told him, it was too hard for Tony to hold on to hope.”

Bucky hums in understanding. “He gave up.”

Natasha nods. “It’s been a week. He’s totally rebuilt himself in that short time. Accepting that Steve is back when he was so sure he’d never see them again… Honestly, I think this is just being built on the foundations of our most recent close calls where Steve might have died or he had been missing for a while before we got confirmation of life. Thinking about it, last year was a bit of a rough one for them so I’m sure Tony is a bit worn down by every time he’s almost lost Steve this year. I think we’ve been looking over some trauma and haven’t been making sure he talks to someone.”

Bucky nods. “I can understand a bit. But…” his voice trails off.

She takes his hand. “Hey. It’ll be okay. If Peter were here, I know he would have cracked already. He’s softer to Peter. I think that’s why he tried to escape into the ship so fast. Before… before Peter could show up and soften him up. But Steve knows Tony better than anyone. He’ll find a way to dig him back out. One more push should bring him back. You’ll see.”

The corner of his mouth moves up a little. “You seem so sure.”

She nods. “I am. Tony has never been able to resist Steve for long. No matter how much he might not want to, he loves him. He won’t be able to give Steve up while he’s standing right in front of him. And Tony’s smart. If I can figure out that you don’t stop loving and worrying over someone just because you aren’t in a relationship, I’m sure he can too.”

Bucky chuckles softly, pulling her in to kiss her forehead.

Clint sighs as he steps up on Natasha’s other side, eyes on Steve. “C’mon. Let’s get him inside. I have a husband to-”

The door to the ship opens again, all four gazes snapping to Rhodey as he looks out on the scene that had sent Tony scurrying through the ship to his room. A grin spreads across his face as his eyes take stock. “Well, hell. Guys! There’s someone here to see you!” He heads down the stairs, going straight to Steve to pull him to his feet and give him a rough hug. He has a feeling he knows exactly what happened. “Give him a few hours,” he murmurs to him.

Steve nods once, still too choked up to reply. Instead, he holds Rhodey tightly to him. He has no doubt that this man has taken the brunt of Tony Watching Duty. He’s so grateful that Rhodey was here for Tony when he couldn’t be.

Clint’s breath catches when Phil practically slides into view at the door, sharp eyes noting everything he could possibly soak in. The shadows under Phil’s eyes, the purple jacket sliding off of his shoulders from the jog to the door, the hole in the collar of the black shirt he’s wearing, his hands gripping the edges of the doorway with white knuckles, and the worn grey pajama pants with ‘Hulk Smash!’ down the left leg in ‘Brucie Bear Green’ as Tony calls it.

The shirt is one of Clint’s old ones, worn through at the collar from his uniform. The purple jacket is one Phil had gotten for him for Christmas one year. The Hulk pants were a present from Tony for Clint, teasing him about how the big guy seemed to favor him. Everything Phil’s wearing is Clint’s, no doubt pulled from the bag stashed on the ship for emergencies like this.

“Clint.” Phil gasps out the name, moving down the stairs with swift grace.

Clint drops his bag and meets him at the bottom, yanking him into his arms straight off of the bottom step. “Phil.” He won’t even bother denying that it came out as a whine. He’s too busy pawing at Phil’s leg until the other man gives in with one of his ‘You gorgeous idiot’ chuckles and lets Clint pull his legs up to wrap around his waist. He can’t get physically close enough. “God, Phil. I missed you. I love you.”

Phil’s hands are fisted in Clint’s jacket, forehead wrinkled in distress as he buries his face in Clint’s neck. “Missed you too. Fuck, Clint I’m glad you’re okay. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

Clint nods. “I’m okay.” He lets out a hurt sound when Phil makes him set him down, but acquiesces in favor of taking his face in his hands.

Phil meets the kiss with just as much fierce want. Clint has always tested his control. On the field he holds on to it by his fingernails, only letting go when everyone is back at home. Safe. Here, surrounded by his team, it’s hard to not let Clint shatter that control. But the reunion isn’t over yet. The rest of his family has made it back as well. He pulls back with a gasp, brushing his fingers over Clint’s head and neck with reverence. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Clint breathes back. He squeezes his eyes closed, visibly reigning himself in. One last soft kiss to the corner of Phil’s mouth and he takes a single step back. His hands don’t leave the arm closest to him, one moving down to tangle their fingers together as the other curls around his elbow.

Bucky is separating from a tight hug with Rhodey when Sam makes it to the bottom of the steps. Immediately his eyes soften. “There’s my wingman.”

Sam lets out a rough sigh, arms wide as he lets Bucky slam into his chest for a devastatingly strong hug. “God, Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes fall closed. Oh how he’s missed this man. “It’s good to see you’re okay.”

Sam’s hands are clenched in his jacket. “You too. I was starting to get worried.”

Bucky pulls back, smiling as he takes Sam’s face in his hands. “What, and leave you two without me? Never.” He pats Sam’s cheek with his flesh hand. “We missed our game.”

“Tony’s buying us season passes.” Sam winks at him, seemingly content to just let Bucky hold his face.

“Now you’ll take him on more dates than me,” Natasha grumbles good-naturedly with a roll of her eyes.

Bucky quirks a brow at her use of the word ‘date’. A slow smile spreads across his face when he sees the devious look in her eyes. When he looks to Sam, the other can’t quite meet his eyes. Interesting. “A conversation, then?”

“Later,” Natasha murmurs before kissing him on the cheek. She nods towards Steve. “Go talk to him,” she murmurs to Sam with a kiss to his cheek as well.

Bucky chuckles at the way Sam splutters and looks frantically to him. He shrugs and waves him on. “I have a feeling I’m going to like the conversation later.”

Natasha winks at him before she turns to Clint and Coulson, nudging Bucky that way when she sees them curbing their own reunion.

“Coulson.” Bucky returns a tight hug. “Glad to see you’re okay.”

Phil thumps him on the back with the one hand he has right now. “You too, Barnes.” His smile is wide when Natasha steps up to lightly curl her hand around Bucky’s arm when they separate. He has a feeling they’ll all have a bit of separation anxiety for a while. Good god, his whole team is a litter of dysfunctional puppies.

Clint finally releases Phil’s arm when Rhodes walks up to him and reaches out a hand. He pulls on it, yanking him into a hug. “Hey, Rhodes.”

“Good to see you, Barton.” He nods his head towards Phil. “This one likes to pretend he’s fine, but he’s been missing you something fierce.

Clint gives Phil a soft smile, reaching out for his hand again. “Yeah, me too.”

Phil returns it before frowning. He looks around and is about to ask about their missing member when his eyes land on Thor.

He’s hanging back, eyes down at his hands as he sits on the bottom steps leading up to the door of the ship.

Phil sighs. “Thor.”

The god’s head snaps up, eyes alight with anxiety as he looks over the reuniting group.

Phil leans over to Clint. “Go give him a hug. He’s been afraid you all would hate him.”

Clint’s face turns stricken. “Aw, Thor, no.” It’s easy to let Phil go now, moving over to the first person who ever made him laugh after Phil was “killed” by Loki. He’s always had a special place in Clint’s heart after that. “C’mere, big guy.”

Thor had surged to his feet as Clint approached, but doesn’t seem like he knows what else to do. He stumbles into the hug, arms hesitantly going around Clint’s shoulders. As the seconds go by, the hug tightens and he lets himself relax. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Clint pulls back, eyes fierce as he reaches up to yank Thor’s head to his level with a hand around the back of his neck. “There is nothing you need to be sorry for. You hear me? None of this could have been predicted. None of this is your fault. It was dumb luck that the shot took us out. Those bastards shouldn't have been fighting in the first place. You were doing what you could to promote peace. It’s not your fault they didn’t listen. Just as I told you Loki wasn’t your fault, this wasn’t either.”

Bucky nods, stepping up to them. “He’s right. We don’t blame you, man.”

Thor lets his eyes fall closed, letting out a sigh as he nods once.

Phil remembers his previous concern then, eyes moving over the group again. His eyes meet Natasha’s and she seems to understand who he’s looking for. They widen when she looks away and seems to deflate. “God, no.” He looks over to Clint and Bucky before his eyes dart over to Steve, who still hasn’t said hello. “Where’s Peter?”

Steve hasn’t moved from where he was pulled to his feet by Rhodey, but he draws all of their attention when he bodily flinches.

Sam had been trying to reassure Steve about Tony, hands on his biceps and voice a low, comforting murmur. His eyes snap wide after Coulson’s question, head whipping around to see that no, Peter isn’t here. He stares back up at Steve with a sinking feeling in his gut. The guilt and pain in Steve’s eyes is all the answer he needs. “Aw, hell.”

Rhodey’s sharp breath echoes around them in the silence. “Steve?”

Steve swallows sharply, jaw clenching. “I couldn’t…” His voice is raw. Sharp and jagged as it cuts through his throat. He’s been trying so hard over these past few minutes. As his team re-connected, he’s tried to keep himself together. But Tony’s rejection, after the loss of his son, has torn into the vulnerable pain he’s felt in his chest ever since it happened. The bitterness, no matter how small an amount, of seeing them all happily reunite has made it all the more painful. Salt in the wound. He’s angry with himself. Feels petty and awful. He shouldn’t begrudge them the happiness they’re feeling. He’s just… a little too broken to fight it right now.

Thor is the first to move, frantic in his lunge to Steve. He yanks Steve to face him by the arm, almost a bit too roughly, two pairs of wide eyes meeting before he speaks. “Tell me. Tell me it’s not true. I couldn’t bear to be the cause of young Peter’s death.”

Steve’s eyes finally overflow with tears. “It’s not your fault, Thor.” His heart softens at the true panic in the other man’s eyes. How could he ever blame Thor for any of this? He loves them all with fierce and burning loyalty. “Those creatures,” it’s hissed out, rough and vicious, “those monsters took him from me. And I couldn’t…” His knees give out on him yet again.

Thor barely catches him, lowering him to the ground as he too goes to his knees. His hands are tight on Steve’s forearms but he’s silent. At a loss for words.

Sam falls to a crouch next to them, hand reaching out to fist in Steve’s jacket. His reassurances all crumble. He’s talked people through their problems for a long time now. But… god, this hurts. Right now? He doesn’t think he even knows how he feels, let alone what he could say to help Steve.

“Shit.” Rhodey’s hands move up to link above his head, turning away from the group as he comprehends.

Coulson moves in then, kneeling next to them both as he reaches out to grip Steve’s shoulder. “Steve. Are you sure? Did you-?” Clint’s hand to his shoulder cuts him off. He has to look up at his archer before he too sinks down to a crouch.

“I saw enough,” Clint murmurs. His eyes beg Phil not to ask for more details while Steve is right here.

He understands. Instead he turns back to Steve, who is now sobbing with the abandon he had on the first night after the loss. Phil slides his hand around Steve’s neck to pull his head into his chest, wrapping his other arm around Steve’s back. If Tony is too broken to offer his reassurances to his husband, Phil will do what he can. “It’s not your fault either, Steve.” He forces himself to push away his own grief for their youngest member so that he can do what he can for the rest of them for now.

Steve doesn’t answer.

Rhodey finally walks back over, a few tear tracks the only sign of his own grief. “We all know you would have done what you could.” He crouches at Steve’s other side and grips his shoulder tightly.

Thor is still holding on to Steve’s forearms, but has loosened his hold now. His voice is whisper soft when he murmurs, “I’m sorry.” His tears are silent streaks down his face.

Steve calms himself, choking back his sobs and shakes his head once. “Don’t.” His own hands turn to grip Thor’s forearms in return. He leans forward to touch his forehead to Thor’s when Phil releases his hold on him. “They’ve already said it all. It’s not your fault. Peter wouldn’t blame you either.”

Thor winces, but doesn’t argue anymore.

Steve reaches up to squeeze the back of his neck. “I mean it.”

With a shaking sigh, Thor leans back enough to meet his eyes. “Okay.”

Steve gives him a nod. Then he turns to Phil. “It’s good to see you, Phil.” Though his voice is rough and weak, the feeling is genuine.

Phil rubs his back where his hand still rests. “It’s good to see you too, Steve. Thank you for taking care of them. We all know it was to the best of your abilities.”

A muscle in Steve’s jaw jumps as he swallows a flinch. No one comments on it. They all know it’s going to take a long time for him to accept that. Just as they all know Thor hasn’t accepted that it isn’t his fault either.

Phil sighs, wiping his damp eyes. “Come. Let’s all go inside. We can talk more there.”

Chapter Text

Phil showing up, alive and well, months after the battle of New York… Well, it was a complicated day.

Tony’s eyes are cold as they stare into Phil’s, the first to see him as he had been let into the tower. He wanted to make sure. Having been the one Clint talked to most of the time, he is well aware of how something like this could break him if it were to be a lie or a trick. But… the Phil standing before him looks all too real.

“I could start with an apology but I’m not sure how much you’ll believe.” It's Phil’s voice. Calm and controlled, if not a bit… weak? He looks a little pale and is leaning to the side just a bit. As if in pain.

Tony feels the belief starting to settle in. “In pain?”

Phil manages a shrug of the shoulder on the side he isn’t leaning into. “I’d like to see you get stabbed like I did and not feel a little pinch.” His lips quirk up in just a bit of a grin.

Tony inclines his head. “Fair.” He jerks his head towards the room behind him. “Come have a seat.”

Phil does so with trepidation. He knows that Tony is evaluating him. Which is a reasonable response to finding out someone is not as dead as they were told. But… there’s someone else Phil wants to see right now and he feels like he’s being denied. “Tony…”

“Uh, no. Me first.” Tony puts his hands on his hips as he stops right in front of Phil. He takes a breath. “You answer these questions correctly and I’ll let you see the rest of them.” His eyes are sharp again when they meet Phil’s. “Why now?”

Phil decides to cooperate. Tony has obviously changed his mind about being responsible for a team. His protectiveness is showing. “Again, I’d invite you to get stabbed like I did and see how long it takes for you to recover.” He doesn’t mean to be confrontational, but his temper has been short lately. It’s been a long road to his current progress in recovery.

Tony hums. “So this is your first taste of freedom?”

“This is my first escape.” He quirks a grin. “They would have kept me longer if I didn’t pull the “I could fire you” card. I’m not in as much danger as I was, so they relented after a few hours of lecturing. I came straight here. I have someone to talk to. Well… a couple someones.”

Tony hums again. “And if they don’t want to talk to you?”

It would be a lie if Phil said he hadn’t considered that. Natasha didn’t like lies and Clint… Oh, Clint. “I… would like to at least see them,” he answers. “Do they already know I’m here?” He had thought maybe Tony had intercepted him to keep the others from knowing. But if they did know and just didn’t want to see him…

Tony’s defensive posture relaxes at the spark of pain in Phils’ eyes. It’s obvious that if he were to be denied, if his previous charges didn’t want to see him, it would be a strong blow. “No. They don’t know.” He sighs. “As much as I am usually one to run my mouth, there are some things I know how to talk about with a bit of… let’s call it ‘delicate handling’.”

Phil tilts his head in question.

“Clint isn’t doing well.” He says it bluntly. It’s the only way to put it without going into the details of why. That’s for Clint to tell. Not Tony. He feels a dark satisfaction at the concern that starts to show on Phil’s face. “If I call them in here, you’re held responsible for anything that may set back the tiny bit of progress we’ve made with him. Do you understand?”

Phil pushes himself to his feet, his previous pain seemingly forgotten. “Let me talk to him. Please. That’s why I came. I know…” he huffs, “I know how he is. It wasn’t his fault but he’ll be blaming himself. I got here as soon as I could so he can see. That I’m okay. And that I don’t blame him. I was so relieved when Fury told me he had been recovered. That Loki hadn’t taken him from me forever.” His eyes are pleading. “Tell him I’m here. If he allows it… I just want to see that it’s true.”

Tony’s ears perk up. ‘taken him from me'. Oh. He had suspected. With the way Clint talks about him, it was obvious that they were close. It’s obvious Phil feels the same way. Clint never mentioned that there was more. But… maybe that was a possibility. Huh.

“I say we call them down.” Steve is leaning against the separating wall that leads around to the elevator. How long has he been there?

Tony sighs, nodding. “Yeah. Call them down, Jarvis.” Before he turns to leave, he gives Phil a small smile. “I am glad to see you.”

Tony and Steve wait for them at the elevator.

“You handled that well,” Steve murmurs.

Tony shrugs. “They’re my people now. He needed to prove he was worth it. But… now I’m angry more with Fury than with Phil. Fury is the one who lied to us.”

Steve hums. “It may not have been a stretch. It’s obvious he barely beat the odds. He’s still weak and it’s been months. I also agree that it wasn't Phil's call.” Steve doesn’t know much about Phil, but he can tell that he isn’t the type of man who would agree to such a lie. He got here as soon as he could to fix it, after all.

Natasha and Clint step off the elevator with a bit of suspicion at having been called so suddenly and without any of the others. Natasha speaks first. “What’s going on?”

Tony nods his head back behind him. “There’s someone here to see you. I ask that you be careful with him and understand that… well, I don’t think he’s at fault.”

Clint stiffens at her side. He’s still thin, though he’s stopped getting thinner, and his eyes are still constantly haunted. He has nightmares almost nightly and has had his fair share of nights on the roof talking to Tony just so he can get a few minutes of distraction. The dreams are almost always Clint’s hands plunging the blade into Phil’s back himself and the pair wonder if the connection to Loki had a subconscious link that makes it easier for Clint’s brain to drag such nightmarish images to vivid clarity.

“Who-?” He chokes on the question, struggling with the hope surging while his mind is telling him not to be an idiot. But… he and Natasha. The only two called. ‘Be careful with him’ and ‘I don’t think he’s at fault’.

Natasha strides past the separating wall, eyes dark. She freezes at the end of it, silent and still as a statue.

“Natasha.”

Clint’s legs give out at the voice.

Everyone sits in the main area of the ship, an ocean of emotions flowing through them like waves. Excitement. Loss. Love. Despair. Relief. Distress. It’s a difficult mix of emotions to balance. They’re all silent for a long moment as they take their seats and settle themselves after their reunion.

The planet’s light source has risen, casting a soft glow that contradicts the cold and empty feeling each of them is fighting to shake off. The weight of loss is heavy and the cold of sadness is permeating through any warmth the light may bring. Though Steve and Clint don’t make a move to do so yet (Steve barely motivated to move and Clint looking like he’s going to fall asleep on his feet), Bucky changes out of his clothes. They had been his last wearable set before they were soaked in Steve's blood and only rinsed off in a river. He’s grateful he had a go-bag on this ship as well. (Bless Tony.) Sam brings his bag to him and Natasha takes every piece of clothing he changes out of to throw it out later.

Phil takes charge once they’re comfortable, heating up some food and making sure everyone gets a meal in them before someone passes out. It’s obviously been a rough trip for their returning travelers, and his family who have been safe were barely interested in food for the past couple of days as well. Now that everyone has returned, it’s not much better with the news of Peter. Yet… everyone feels just a bit less fragile. Like each of them is supporting the other as their pieces take time to glue back together.

Bucky is the first to talk from his spot in the pilot’s chair, Natasha in his lap and Sam in the seat at his side. “Steve did his best on the landing,” he starts. “We all made it out in fairly decent shape. Except for him. He was thrown away from the wreckage as the ship was torn apart. Clint got Steve stable and I kept watch over him while he and… Peter went back to the pieces of ship to scavenge what they could before something blew.”

Steve doesn’t flinch at the name. It doesn’t even seem like he’s with them at the moment. His eyes are blank and unfocused. No one bothers him. If he needs to shut down during the telling of their journey, no one will begrudge him that.

Phil sits at Steve’s side, leaning comfortingly against his shoulder with Clint leaning against his other side. He has his arm around Clint’s shoulders and can’t keep from rubbing his arm or reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck now and then.

Clint basks in it and hums in agreement with Bucky. He picks up there, going back and forth with Bucky to tell their journey. The emergency surgery on Steve’s rib. The first attack by the creatures. The long days of walking and the struggle of making it over such wild terrain. When they get to the attack that took Peter, Clint shudders. “It was rough. There were times when I thought I was a goner. And then Peter or Steve or Bucky backed me up. The pack was strong.” He sighs, leaning more into Phil when he feels his arm tighten around his shoulders. “And smart.”

Bucky nods. “We were hit hard that night. We were all overwhelmed. When Peter was taken…” he trails off with a shudder.

“Steve was on the ground bleeding out,” Clint murmurs. “I wasn’t even sure he’d be alive when I came back from looking for the kid.”

“I had some… pretty severe head trauma from a hit to a rock. I think. I can’t believe I was able to stitch him up as well as I did.” Bucky’s voice is all grit. The memories of that night are… painful. Almost more so than the physical wounds that are now faded. “Clint was pretty beat up as well. If they had come back for us that night…” He trails off. Everyone knows what would have happened.

Phil reaches up to brush his thumb across the pink line above Clint’s eye. “Is that where this came from?” He hates to think of what could have happened if the strike that had left such a prominent mark had connected just a few inches lower. Clint prides himself on his eyesight. It would be devastating to him if it were to be compromised.

Clint nods. “Kept getting blood in my eyes as I was looking for the kid.”

“Looking for him.” Sam sits forward. “You said that twice. Did you find him?”

Clint shudders. “No. But…” he pauses, seeing Steve finally turn to him from the other side of Phil. This is what he hadn’t told anyone yet.

“What did you find?” There’s no hope in his voice. It’s pure morbid curiosity. He just wants to know what had made Clint so sure that his son was gone.

Clint takes a breath. “Are you sure-”

“He had to experience it,” Steve cuts in, voice cold. “I can handle hearing about it.”

No one seems surprised that Clint hadn’t told him. Instead, they all seem to hold their breath as they wait for him to decide what to do.

In the end, Clint nods once. Whether Steve can handle it or not, he does deserve to know. “I followed a lot of wet trails. I couldn’t figure out which one would lead to the creature that took Peter. But each trail I followed at first only had drops. A puddle here or there. I knew that wasn’t him considering the way he was… bit into and dragged away. Some led to bodies that had finally collapsed and died farther into the trees.” He takes a shuddering breath, leaning into Phil’s hold. “There was only one trail that had enough blood to have been from Peter’s wounds and didn’t end with a dead monster. It led farther than others and had dragging marks. At the end of it…”

Phil runs his hand up and down Clint’s bicep. “We’re here,” he murmurs. He blinks away wetness in his own eyes. It’s obvious Clint is struggling with the memory. He wishes so desperately that he could have been there with him. That all of them hadn’t had to handle it by themselves.

“It was the only trail with…” he swallows sharply, “an epicenter.”

For one single second, the entire room is silent in a heavy way that suffocates them all. Then they understand what he means and a chorus of swears and pained sounds erupt with varying intensity.

Steve’s entire torso folds forward with a quiet, agonized sound.

Sam is on his feet and going to kneel in front of him barely a second later, hands on either side of Steve’s head as he murmurs low, comforting words to him and keeps him folded between his knees. “Easy. Shhh. Breathe for me. Stay right there and breathe for a minute. We’ve got you.”

Rhodey finally moves, taking a step closer to Steve and running a hand down his back as he lets Sam try to keep him from falling apart. He’s silent, unable to even think of something to say as well as unwilling to unlock whatever hold he has on his own despair.

Clint loses the fight against the tears in his eyes. They overflow and run down his cheeks as Phil reaches up to brush them away. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, still heaving roughly between his knees as he does his best to keep from letting the pain and panic take over. It’s over. There’s nothing he could do now. But to hear that Peter could have been torn- He almost loses the food he just ate.

Bucky has folded over to let his face rest in the side of Natasha’s neck. “So you think they fought over him?” HIs voice is barely a breath.

Clint nods once. Jaw hurting with the force of his teeth clenching together as a barrier against the sobs that want to escape.

Thor, who had been a silent sentinel for the entire time, finally moves. It’s with heavy footsteps that he walks to the door and slips outside.

Bucky turns to watch with red eyes, letting out a sigh when the door closes behind him. “Should someone be out there with him?”

Rhodey pulls his jacket on, heading to the door with one last squeeze to Steve’s shoulder. “If there’s anyone who could handle those creatures on their own, it’d be him. But… I think he should have someone with him anyway. I’ll make sure he isn’t… falling apart.” Like the rest of us, he doesn’t say.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Natasha murmurs after Steve has finally fallen to silence again. “All of you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Bucky and Clint nod, both seeming to fade with every second that passes.

Phil stands with one last touch to Steve. “C’mon.” He pulls Clint to his feet, feeling warmth spread through his chest as Clint leans into him afterwards. It seems that now that they’ve had their After Action, Clint has started to check out. “You did good, Clint,” he murmurs. He presses a soft kiss to his temple. “You did good. You can rest now.”

Clint nods, feeling tears prick at his eyes yet again. He lets Phil pick up the bag he had dropped on the floor at their feet and lead him down the hall. When they get to the room Phil had been sharing with Sam and Thor (though they rarely all slept at the same time or stayed in the room much at all) Clint feels his body start to give up on him. The days of keeping his vigilance, of keeping his body on high alert for every sound, every motion, anything that could be a hint at a threat stacked on top of each fight and every mile it took to get here… It’s been a very long few weeks.

Phil notices. He always notices. He’s catching Clint when his next step is more of a stumble and helps him lower to the ground without hurting his knees. “Easy. There you go.” He gets him sitting on the pile of blankets he’s called his own bed for the past few weeks. “Let me…” He pulls off Clint’s Jacket, letting out a breath at the ragged state of the shirt underneath. The spots of blood. The gash on Clint’s bicep that looks to be infected.

“Shit.” Clint’s glazed eyes look to his arm as he hisses the word, finally feeling the pain he should have noticed much sooner. “That got worse.”

Phil huffs in light amusement. He’s not worried. Clint has faced much worse. This is all very normal for Post-op-Clint, including the way his body is quickly heading towards a heavy crash. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Clint falls asleep after Phil gets a few of the antibiotics and some water down his throat and doesn’t even twitch as his arm is carefully cut open again so Phil can get as much of the infection out as he can before stitching and wrapping it up. He pulls Clint's go-bag (Bless Tony) from where it's been sitting next to his bedding area since the crash (and which he stole his current outfit from) and changes Clint’s clothes before pulling the covers up over him, unable to stop staring at him with fond eyes at the amount of trust it means Clint has in him to check out so fully. No matter how long they’ve been together, having earned Clint’s trust has always touched him.

Phil lays against Clint, close enough to rest his head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. A reassurance, even as his consciousness falls away, that his husband is back where he belongs. Later, when nightfall has come again, they will have switched places. Clint having turned and draped himself over Phil’s chest for much of the same reason; To know he’s come back home.

***

Natasha gets more comfortable in Bucky’s lap as Phil leads Clint away, eyeing the way Sam holds Steve’s head to his shoulder as he continues the soft murmuring where he’s crouched before him. “He’s not going to be able to rest until he talks to Tony.”

Bucky hums. “No, he won’t.” He eyes the pair as well. “Do you think he should do it now?”

Natasha thinks it over. “I do. Tony has probably had the rug pulled out from under him. Now is the time to take advantage of his disorientation. For Steve to worm his way in before those crumbling walls are rebuilt.”

Another hum from Bucky.

Natasha smiles gently, looking up to see his eyes closed. “You can sleep for a little while. I’ll keep an eye on Sam and Steve and make sure things are sorted. Rest, now. Would you like to find a place to lie down?”

“No,” Bucky breathes, arms tightening around Natasha. “I’d like to stay here. To hold you for a while. If that’s okay.” He opens his eyes to question her with them.

She nods. “Okay.” She lays her head against his chest, finally feeling herself settle for the first time in weeks as she watches Sam and Steve murmur to each other. Her family is home now. Minutes later, when Sam finally stands with a soft groan at straightening his legs again after such a long time, she tries to give him an encouraging smile. “Get his face cleaned up and show him Tony’s room.”

Steve turns red eyes to her. “I don’t-”

She doesn’t let Steve shrink back from this. “Trust me when I tell you that if you don’t talk to him before he’s made up his mind about how he feels about all of this, it might be too late. He needs you. And you need him. So go dig him out with that special way you have of pulling him to you. You both need it.”

Sam nods, making Steve meet his eyes. “Don’t let yourself lose them both.”

Steve takes a shuddering breath. Nods once.

Sam gives him a gentle smile, leading him down the hall to their supply room. He wets a towel from their water supply and hands it to him to wipe down his face. “Fix yourself up and get your game face on. Natasha’s right. He needs you right now. And you’re kidding yourself if you think you can make it another day without talking to him. So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to show you to his room, you’re going to go in there, and you’re not going to let him leave until you’ve put each other back together. Got it?” He pulls Steve’s go-bag (Bless. Tony.) from the depths of their supply stash, grinning at the way it makes his eyes just a little brighter at the thought of clean clothes.

Steve huffs a breath. To call it a chuckle would be generous. “Thanks, Sam.”

Sam reaches up to pat his cheek. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Steve pulls him into a tight hug and doesn’t let go for a very long time.

Chapter Text

“Hey.”

A grunt.

“Why is dad upset?”

A sigh. “Just another argument. Nothing new.”

Peter frowns. “When you can say that, then something needs to change.”

Steve runs his hands over his face as he sits back on the couch where he's been stewing about this exact problem for a while now. “Nothing’s going to change unless-”

“Unless what? HE changes? Is that what you want?”

Steve finally turns to look at his son, shoulders slumping. “No. No… I-”

“You guys haven’t fought this much in a long time. Is it about me?” It’s only been a few months since they’ve discovered his new… nightly habits. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was causing some tension between them seeing as how Tony never tried to keep him from doing what he felt was right, while Steve stressed constantly over whether Peter was safe enough.

Steve lets his head fall into his hands. “Why is it you always come to me for talks like this?”

Peter sighs, but he smiles a little. He goes over to the couch to sit next to him. “You don’t go to your room and lock your door when you’re upset.”

Steve winces. Yeah. Tony’s been locking himself in his workshop a lot lately. “It’s not totally about you. It’s just… he’s been running himself ragged these past few weeks and won’t listen when I try to get him to sleep. I tell him to eat and all he does is make his stupid awful smoothies that don’t count. I tell him to be safe and he goes and almost dies. Every time we go out, it seems. And then I tell him you’re too vulnerable to be out on your own and he decides to make a suit that will allow you to go out even more!”

Peter leans to touch his shoulder to Steve’s. He remembers every fight. All within the past two weeks, coming up over and over again like a scratched record. Like he said, the most in a very long time. “The good thing about being so alike you both, it’s easy for me to play mediator now that I’m older.”

Steve groans. “Don’t say that. Parents aren’t supposed to-”

“Dad. I’m grown up now-”

“You’re sixteen.”

“-and sometimes, parents can use their children to get a different perspective,” he continues as if Steve hadn’t spoken. He nudges him again. “He’s been working on those coms that could hold out through an EMP blast. You asked for those, you know?”

Steve nods. “We need them. When we lost contact with each other the end of the fight was a disaster. When I was trapped under some rubble, no one could hear me.”

Peter nods. He remembers. He wasn’t there, but the news stories were bad enough. Steve was buried for a couple hours. When he talks, his voice is soft. “Dad didn’t know where you were. Or if you were alive. None of us did.”

Steve sighs. “I know.”

“He was already muttering plans for new coms as you were headed home from medical. You only cemented the idea when you got home as he was setting his tools up.”

Steve digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I told him what he already knew and made it a demand in his mind.”

“So he’s getting it done as quick as he can,” Peter murmurs. “His own health be damned.”

“Because we never know when the next strike could come,” Steve allows softly.

“And the gross shakes he makes are just how he deals with your worry.”

Steve shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean when I tell him to eat.”

Peter nods. “But it’s a compromise, right? He tries. But leaving his lab is stopping his work and we all know how every second counts if he wants to get anything done. He eats when you bring him food, doesn’t he?”

Steve falls back into the couch with a huff. “Yeah. He does.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “And I tell him it’s not good enough that he’s not coming up for meals himself.” He really starts feeling like a jerk.

“You tell him to be safe, but don’t you think others should be kept safe too? The fact that he doesn’t die shows he’s fighting. He does his best. Just like my suit. You both know I’m not going to stop. He’s doing his best to make sure I stay safe while I’m out.”

Steve nods, his eyes burning with tears as he realizes what a completely ungrateful ass he’s been to his husband. Of the man who provides them all with so much. Who loves too much and gives all he has. Tony had even stayed late at the office a few days (which he NEVER does unless under duress by Pepper) to avoid him.

He remembers all of the times Tony had yelled back out of hurt now. Tony’s mumbled ‘it’s just not important’ to why he wasn’t eating real food, the fourth trial com in his hands. The smoothie cups handed to Dum-e to get rid of in hopes Steve doesn’t find them, who does because Dum-e is a good robot who knows where to put trash and dirty dishes. Tony hiding in his lab when Steve gets back from debrief to keep from hearing how he ‘messed up’ again when he saved people from harm or even death. And Peter’s suit…

What was he teaching his husband? That he should try harder? That he isn’t good enough? That hiding from him is the way to go? That making something that will protect their son isn’t the best he can do? “I’ve been abusing him.”

Peter stiffens at that. “Dad, no.”

Steve nods, sniffs, and sits up. “Yeah. I have. I may have never laid a finger on him, but I’ve been telling him he’s not good enough. And it’s going to stop now.” He looks to Peter, smiles a little, and reaches out to take his hand. “One thing Tony seems to have taught you well is exactly what to say to call someone out.”

“But dampened with your tactics.” Peter grins a little.

Steve stands, kissing the top of Peter’s head before heading down to the workshop. He isn’t surprised to see the glass blacked out and to hear music playing, though not the kind he would have thought. It’s with a sigh that he looks to the camera in the corner of the small corridor. “Override, authorization SS70418 please, Jarvis. Feel free to keep the music going.”

The door doesn’t open. “May I ask your intentions, Captain?”

Steve’s guilt hits an all-time low. When Jarvis starts ignoring your override, you know you’ve screwed up. To be fair, he hasn’t done much more than argue with Tony any time he’s come down to the lab for the past couple weeks. He’s sure it’s only made Tony’s distress worse. “To fix it,” he murmurs. He looks to the camera. Hopes a computer can read his seriousness. “I screwed up. I know that. Let me fix it, Jarvis.” His gut hurts with how much guilt he’s drowning in.

The door opens with a soft hiss.

Walking in, Steve can sense the hopeless feeling in the air now. Can see the tools strewn around and the hints of other projects abandoned in favor for the ‘more important’ ones. The empty plates on multiple surfaces tells Steve Tony is trying. The diagnostic running on whatever material Tony is contemplating on putting in Peter’s suit tells Steve he’s trying. The damn smoothie cup sitting next to the couch on the floor, inches away from a dangling hand, tells Steve he’s trying.

Steve crouches next to that couch, hand reaching out to slide gently through hair that hasn’t been washed in a while. He doesn’t care. He hasn’t barely touched Tony in a week. Too long. He feels his eyes start to water as he lets them wander down Tony’s face. Takes in the now less-than-perfect facial hair, the dark circles under his eyes. It’s the song that’s playing though. The one he walked in on. That’s what hits him hard. He has no doubt that Tony has this in his music for a reason.

“Jarvis?” he asks softly, still running his fingers through Tony’s hair.

“Sir?”

“What song is this and where does this rate on Tony’s most played songs?”

“Beth by the band Kiss, Sir. It’s moved up the list over the past ten years.” Steve smiles a little. Understands what Jarvis was hinting at. “He feels guilty when he leaves me to sleep without him.”

“Frequently.”

Steve nods. “And I don’t make it any easier.”

It’s quiet for a long time, Steve content to just watch Tony sleep.

Then, “If I may,” Jarvis interrupts softly, “Sir liked it best when you stayed with him.”

Steve sniffs, nodding. It stopped when they had to make sure one of them was free to watch Peter at all times. Why didn’t he start doing it again when Peter was old enough to be by himself? “I left him alone down here with my demands and expected him to be able to stop trying to make things better. I helped with the weight of his thoughts for so long, then dumped them back on him without so much as a warning.”

“He would not turn you away,” comes the soft reply.

Steve has gotten used to the way Jarvis talks over the years. He understands the command for what it is, climbing over Tony to fit between him and the back of the couch, one arm sliding under the pillow under Tony’s head and the other wrapping around his waist to hold him. He falls asleep with wet eyes and a heavy conscience.

He wakes up to fingers tangling with his own.

As the memories of the night before filter in, he nuzzles down into the neck next to him. With a sigh, he mans up and admits, “I screwed up. And I’m sorry.” He feels Tony stiffen under his arm and runs his thumb over the slightly smaller hand in his. “I miss you, but I’ve been saying the opposite out loud. I’ve left you here alone to do the best you can to keep us safe or make me happy and all I’ve done is tell you it’s not good enough. Which isn’t true. You do so much for us. Things we’d never be able to do ourselves. And your mind is running out of control without the peace I know you used to find with me. I also know you’re making Peter’s suit better to keep him safe, not trying to encourage him because we both know he wouldn’t stop anyway. I’m sorry for making it seem like a death wish on our son instead of a prayer for protection.” His eyes burn with the threat of tears. “That was cruel and unfair.”

Tony turns in his arms then, eyes slightly wider than usual, but definitely filled with tears of his own. “Steve…”

Steve sniffs. “I uh… I’ve been pretty awful to you. And it’s going to stop now. You hear me?”

Tony looks down, hand sliding up Steve’s chest as if he can’t believe he’s real. His hand stops over Steve’s heart. Feels it beating faster than usual. “I’ve missed you too,” he murmurs.

“Look at me, love.” Steve smiles a little when he looks up. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me? I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll be the supportive husband you’ve been to me all this time.”

Tony’s breath hitches. “I haven’t-”

“You have. You’ve done your very best in every single way. You’ve tried so hard to compromise with me and I haven’t given you a single chance lately. So this is my apology.” He kisses Tony’s forehead, sitting them both up before sliding off the couch to kneel in front of his husband. He smiles when Tony stares down at him in wonder.

“What…?”

“Shhh.” Steve takes Tony’s left hand, sliding his wedding band off gently and smiling at the color difference on the strip of skin that hasn’t seen the light of day since he slid it onto that very finger for their wedding. (Besides the few missions that had created extenuating circumstances) He runs his thumb over the pale mark. He takes a deep breath before looking back up. “Tony Stark. I’ve been a crappy husband. I know you’ve always had the fear of screwing up, but in reality… I was the one who screwed up. I forgot that your craziness is why I fell in love with you in the first place. But I’ve remembered now. And I want to do this again. We don’t need to renew our vows. A big show won’t mean any more than this right here.” He looks up into Tony’s eyes. “So let me ask this, and repeat it every day after this; Will you stay married to me?”

Tony gapes at him for a moment. Takes a breath. “Steve.”

Steve shrugs a little, looking sheepish. “Let me atone for my mistakes by making the rest of our lives better than the past two weeks?”

Tony finally laughs, leaning down to touch his forehead to Steve’s as he slides his finger back into his ring. Then he takes Steve’s face in his hands. “Not all parts of marriage are sunshine and rainbows. I’ll be damned if I let us fall apart when the worst things we fight about are also the things that mean we love each other.”

Steve nods against Tony’s forehead, making no move to pull back. “I do. I love you so much. And I worry because of that. But I’ve handled it wrong.”

“We’ll work on it,” Tony breathes, lips brushing against Steve’s. “For the rest of our lives.”

Steve just watches him from leaning against the closed door at first. Lets his eyes follow his every move. He knows Tony is aware of his presence. The room is small and the doors aren’t quiet. But Tony hasn’t even glanced his way. Just keeps working on what looks like a piece of the ship he’s been piecing together in here. Looking closely, it looks like something from the front console. He watches him try to fit something together, frowning in thought as it refuses to click, and finally moves to sit next to him after dropping his bag by the door. “Any idea what the problem is?”

Tony flinches. Steve pretends not to notice. “Everything is bent to hell or scorched to uselessness. A power surge when testing the wiring I fixed almost destroyed this so it’s been slow going.” He fiddles with the piece he’s been struggling with before holding it out to the side in offering though he doesn’t look over. “Can you fix the edges on this?” He goes back to working on something else as Steve takes the piece.

Steve looks it over, seeing the bent edges and looking to where Tony was trying to get it to plug in. It’s obvious he’s had to make this out of other scrap pieces. It takes little effort for him to straighten out the bent metal, though his fingers are barely small enough to do so. It’s not the first time Tony has asked him to help. Over the years, Tony has trusted Steve to help with many different projects. At least that hasn’t changed. “Here.”

Tony takes it back with only a short glance over. He turns it in his hands, nodding before putting it where he was trying to get it earlier. It clicks in. He lets out a sigh. He works for another minute in silence before handing something else over. “Please.” He takes it back without comment when Steve hands it back to him.

Steve is wondering whether or not he needs to start pushing when Tony suddenly stands, looking the piece over and nodding once. It’s completed then. If he’s going to do something, it’s now or never. Steve surges to his feet, catching Tony’s wrist before he can head towards the door, eyes locking on to the ring on his finger. There’s still hope as long as he’s wearing their ring.

Tony’s jaw clenches and he closes his eyes. “Let go.”

Steve smiles a little. “No.” He turns more towards him.

Tony tries to push him away with the hand holding the mess of wires and metal, only succeeding in letting Steve grab his other wrist. He tries to pull his hands through Steve’s. They might as well have been a pair of handcuffs. “Let go.”

Steve can hear the panic creeping into Tony’s voice. He knows his wall is crumbling. He pulls Tony to him, leaning forward at the same time. His face is serious now and his eyes are intense. “Tony.” His voice, a contrast to those, is soft.

Tony stops struggling but refuses to look at him. Looking instead to the floor. “Let. Go.”

“Look at me. Look at me, love.”

“Don’t call me that!” he hisses.

Steve shakes his head. “I’ve always called you that. From the very beginning, remember? I’m never going to stop.”

Tony’s hands tremble inside Steve’s.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He waits for Tony’s eyes to raise to his face, smiling when they finally do. He lets go of one of his wrists, reaching out with that hand to brush his knuckles across his cheek. “I missed you so much.”

Tony’s eyes finally meet Steve’s, reacting to the plea in his voice from a habit he may never be able to break. And, as it always used to, Steve’s loving gaze breaks through his wall now that it’s crumbling, destroying everything he’s built over the past week. Tears fill his eyes though he still tries to hold his wall. Struggles to keep his emotions in check.

Steve smiles sadly. “I’ve needed you. So much. I need you to let me back in. I missed you like you wouldn’t believe, Tones.”

Tony shakes. “I… I can’t-”

“No matter how far I ever am, I’m going to promise you Tony, right now, I am always going to come back to you. You hear me? No matter what happens, as long as there is breath in me, I will make it back to you. No matter how long it takes. Okay? I need you to believe me.”

Tony’s breath hitches. “I need you to do that,” he chokes out. “I can’t deal with… this.” He can’t articulate the weight of despair that losing Steve crushes him with every time a scare happens.

But that’s okay. Steve understands. He nods. “Anything. Anything you need. Always.” Without looking away, he gently takes the piece of the console out of his trembling hand and drops it on Tony’s bag next to them to keep it from hitting the hard floor.

Tony stares into Steve’s eyes. He’s not lying. Steve has always given Tony anything he needs. Always done his best. Their relationship has always been a give and take, learning to compromise between such different personalities and needs. Tony thinks maybe, just maybe, this time it’s his turn to give Steve something he needs. And if he’s being truthful, it’s something they both need. He never really stood a chance anyway, “I love you,” he chokes out.

Steve surges forward.

When his lips touch Tony’s, the numbers finally, finally stop.

Steve lets out a surprised sound when Tony’s knees buckle and he has to catch him.

Tony’s hands grip his shoulders, a sound that’s a mix of a sob and a laugh erupting as he pulls away. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just-”

Steve takes his face in his hands when Tony is safely standing on his own two feet again. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He kisses him again, softly this time.

When they separate, Tony is gasping. “Don’t do this to me again. I can’t…” He shakes his head, at a loss. He doesn’t have words to describe the pain he’s been drowning in. It was not having an answer. That’s what was killing him the most. Not having any idea of what to do or what was going to happen.

Feeling helpless makes Tony Stark self-destructive. It always has.

Steve nods. He knows that too. “Okay. Alright.” His promise feels delicate, unsure if it’s one that could be kept. But he makes it anyway. “I’m sorry, Tones. I’m so sorry.” His hands slide back to gently cup Tony’s head, pulling his husband into his chest. He’s missed him. Oh, how he’s missed him. His eyes sting with tears as he realizes what he’s going to have to tell him now. “Tony…” His throat closes up.

Tony looks up in answer to his name, lips seeking Steve’s. He draws him down into a heart-breakingly soft kiss. “Steve, honey. Sweetheart. I need you. I haven’t been able to sleep. I couldn’t make the number’s stop. But you…”

Steve nods, taking the out with eager acceptance. Just for tonight. His head screams at him for being a coward, but his heart warms as Tony melts against him as he pulls the man back into his arms. If Tony wants to use him to quiet is mind, is it so wrong to do the same? His mind hasn’t let him stop re-playing the images of Peter’s last moments since it’s happened. He just wants a break from seeing his son torn and bleeding, dragged- He sighs against Tony’s lips as he lowers him down to the mess of blankets he figures must be where Tony was sleeping lately. Or not, if the dark circles under his eyes have anything to prove.

Tony separates to breathe, gasping, “Steve. I need-”

Steve silences him with another deep kiss before pulling back to start kissing down his neck. “I’ve got you, Tones. I’ve got you.”

It’s arguable that Tony’s favorite love language with Steve is physical intimacy. It really is no surprise that he’d want to be as close as possible to him after his return. After so long of not even being able to touch each other, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that this could be more healing for him than the conversation they just had seconds before. To feel that Steve is really back would be a strong message to his fraying mind that, against all odds, Steve made it back to him again.

“Gonna make up for lost time, yeah?”

Tony lets out a weak sound, hands fisting in Steve’s hair as his mouth moves down his chest. “Yeah. Yes. Please, Steve.”

Steve pulls his own shirt over his head before doing the same with Tony’s, eyes both hungry and soft as they rove over his husband’s bared skin. Tony is always going to be the most beautiful thing in the world to him, but it pains him to see what distress has been wrought on his body as he’s mentally struggled. Tony always has showed his inner turmoil through his outward appearance. Food would lose its appeal and sleep would be hard to come by. The shadows on his ribs are more visible than Steve would like. He’s sure he has the rest of their family to thank for it not being worse than this.

“You need to take care of this for me,” Steve murmurs, hands sliding up Tony’s sides. His fingers spread to span over his ribs as if protecting them. “When I’m not here, I need you to keep this safe.” One hand moves up to press gently over Tony’s heart, eyes locking. “If your body fails, I lose you. You need to keep it safe when I’m not here to do it.”

Tony nods, one hand closing over Steve’s on his heart and lacing their fingers together. The other moves to slide up Steve’s chest to rest on his heart as well. “I’m sorry,” he gasps out.

Steve leans back down with a rumble, hands roaming again as his mouth worries its way up Tony’s neck. “Not trying for apologies, love. You just need to remember that if I’m going to always make it back to you, I need you to be here when I return. Yeah?”

Tony nods frantically, eyes squeezing shut with a gasp when one of Steve’s knees finally slide between his legs to press against him. He can’t help the way his hips jump up. “Yeah. Shit, Steve, yeah.”

Steve doesn’t waste any more time then, aware that Tony is losing his control even faster than usual with his lack of sleep. His eyes keep spacing out. If Steve is going to do this, he’s going to do it while Tony is aware. Sober, if you will. They’re both naked within minutes, Steve letting out a strangled sound when they line up and he practically melts over Tony’s body, finally free of all barriers. “God, Tony.”

“Steve.” Tony’s hands scrabble to the back of his head to pull him down into a messy kiss, fingers tangling in the longer hair. “Need you. C’mon. Missed you. Missed this.” It’s been around four months since they’ve been able to touch each other like this.

Steve wraps his hand around them both, punching a gasp out of each of them. It’s been soooo long. “Missed you. Love you so much,” he pants against Tony’s mouth, unable to even move his lips away to talk.

Tony shudders as Steve does his best to use their slick to ease the roughness of his grip. It’s not enough. “God, fuck me.”

Steve’s hips hitch, causing an avalanche of sounds and movement between them both. He barely calms himself enough to choke out, “I can’t. We don’t have the supplies we need and I can’t take the time to prep you without it right now. Another time.”

A sharp, pained sound. “Steve.”

“Shhh. I’ve got you. I’ll get you there, trust me.” He violently shoves away the voice in his head that mocks him for already having broken Tony’s trust. For not telling him something so devastatingly important.

His hand moves over them both, pulling out every trick he knows. He watches in awe as Tony writhes under him and relishes in the sharp pinpricks of pain from Tony’s nails as he slides them down his shoulders or curve around the back of his neck. He can feel himself getting close, on a hair trigger after so long of not even having the time to touch himself. He wants Tony to get there first.

“God, Steve, gonna…”

Bingo. “C’mon. Come for me, Tones. Wanna see you. It’s been so long since…” he kisses him again, groaning against his mouth as he feels Tony’s thrusts getting more erratic, the clench of his stomach where it's pressed against his knuckles. When he throws his head back, Steve scrapes his teeth up his neck to nip at the corner of his jaw. “God, you’re so beautiful. I love you.”

Surprisingly enough, (or not, considering Tony has always lived for Steve's praise and affection) that seems to be what does it. Tony’s back arches, a sharp cry swallowed by Steve’s mouth as he seemingly does his best to reach back to Tony’s throat. He groans as Steve releases him, fumbling to wrap his hand with Steve’s to finish him off as well. “C’mon, Steve. Wanna… wanna see you too,” he pants.

It’s barely two strokes later that Steve loses it as well, overwhelmed with the way Tony looks at him, eyes dark and expectant with just a hint of his usual sexy smirk to his mouth. He rests that way for a moment, leaning over Tony, before he reaches over to grab a discarded shirt. He wipes Tony’s stomach down as he kisses him yet again, gently this time. Oh, how he’s missed him. It seems as if the weight in his chest is going to take some time to dissipate.

Exhaustion rushes over Tony, hands still trying to grip Steve’s arms as he is slowly swallowed by the black creeping from the edges of his vision. “Steve.”

Steve manages to huff a fond laugh, large hands gently carding through his hair. “Shhh, go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

And finally, finally, Tony does.

Chapter Text

Natasha freezes when she steps into the kitchen, eyes moving over the disaster before coming to settle on the source. The corner of her mouth quirks up.

Peter holds up a hand with a sigh. “Not a word.”

She leans against the doorway as Bucky steps up behind her shoulder and rests a hand on her waist. She leans back into him. “It looks like dinner plans are going to have to wait.”

Bucky chuckles, eyes bright as he looks over the mess as well. His grin widens when his eyes land on Peter’s face, which is getting more annoyed as the seconds pass. “Did you try to cook the food or fight with it?”

Another sigh. “Hilarious.”

Natasha speaks up again, moving forward to turn off the stove top and take the pan of… she doesn’t even know what was originally put in here. “Why were you… attempting to cook?”

Peter groans, hands running up through his hair and causing a new mess atop his head. “It’s their anniversary tonight. I’ve never done anything for them so I wanted to make their favorite dinner.”

Natasha nods. “That would be nice.”

Peter snorts. “Yeah. But I forgot I never learned how to cook.”

Bucky chuckles from where he’s stolen Natasha’s spot against the doorway. “Well that’s understandable seeing as how many people are always in this building and the amount of leftovers you’re always stealing.”

Peter shrugs. “I’m a scrounger. I scrounge. Call me a hyena.”

Natasha dumps the pan’s contents into the garbage, rinsing it out and wiping down some of the mess from the counters before picking up a knife. “Alright. You’re fifteen. It’s time for you to learn how to cook.”

Peter eyes her warily. “You’re going to teach me how to cook?”

She raises an eyebrow. “You think I only know how to kill people?”

He shrugs. “To be fair, that’s all I’ve ever seen you do with a knife. Besides cutting your food at dinner. But that’s different.”

She rolls the knife through her fingers. Nods once. “True.” She looks down at it as the handle stops in the palm of her hand. “But it’s all about handling.” She looks back up to him. “Hold a knife like this…” she flicks the knife around, fingers curling over the inside curve of the handle as the back of the blade presses into the underside of her wrist, tip just barely pressing into the delicate skin a bit farther up her arm. “You can slice and kill.”

Peter envisions her hand lashing out, knife springing away from her arm as she twists it with the movement to give it the momentum and reach it needs to slice at what she’s striking at. Or the back of the blade pressing into her arm as she uses the force of her entire forearm to shove it through the neck of anyone who posed a threat to someone she loved. She could sever a spine with that simple knife if she chose to. He knows that.

She flicks the knife back around. “Hold it like this…” fingers over the back of the handle, a couple up on the back of the blade that was just against her wrist, “and you’re ready to chop up some fresh vegetables for dinner.” She winks with a smile.

Peter smiles back. “It’ll be a pleasure to learn something from you I can use outside of my night job.”

She bows sarcastically before checking the time. “We have an hour before they’re supposed to be back from their meeting. Plenty of time. You have two other sets of hands now.”

Bucky catches another knife when Natasha tosses it to him as he pushes off with his hip from the counter. He catches it by the handle before tossing it up in a flip and catching it by the blade in his metal hand. He holds it out to Peter handle first. “We’ll start with slicing.” He smirks darkly as Peter almost hesitantly takes the knife from him before nodding to the rather large cut of beef on the table he’d obviously taken from for his first attempt. “The rest of that lovely cut of beef over there. Not throats. The use of a knife is all about context.”

Natasha gestures to the leftover mess of the kitchen. “This is the only carnage we want to see tonight.”

Peter sighs, nodding. “Me too.” He smiles up through his bangs. “Teach me.”

After that night, Natasha was constantly teaching him how to cook. Often with Clint at her side whom, if she were honest, taught her a few things about cooking as well. Clint’s cooking experience was a hodgepodge of things that culminated through the people he met when in the circus and the odd acquaintance at SHIELD. He doesn’t forget things easily. The recipes only exist in his head so it was always controlled chaos as he ordered them around the kitchen.

Phil would often be at a table nearby, close enough to watch while also staying out of the red zone. Flying food was always a hazard when Clint was in the kitchen. It was seemingly impossible for the marksman to not try to throw things into bowls while he cooked. Even if he never missed, it was often that they bounced right back out or followed the curve of the bowl to end up on the counter. Even though they were all probably obnoxious and messy, Phil’s eyes were always alight with adoration any time he would look up from his work.

Bucky would join them from time to time, laughing and reminiscing with Steve (who loved his team and was absolutely mooning over them as they cooked team dinners in the kitchen) about the cooking mishaps that happened during the war. When supplies were scarce, dinner didn’t always turn out like you’d hope.

Bruce became an addition later on, his own recipes making their way into their growing pile of papers until Steve actually bought a box for them that reminded him of his mother. After that, Bruce would join Steve to watch them cook every time they got together. His biggest smiles and his loudest laughs would surprise even himself as their antics formed either the perfect dinner or the most spectacular failure.

When Natasha asked him if any of the chaos gave him anxiety, he had only shrugged. “Compared to anything else? This is almost therapeutic.” His eyes were soft as he looked over the cooks. “We’ve eaten team dinners before, of course. But… there’s something about… this. Making it together. We never did that. It was always one person. I feel like we were missing out on some bonding exercises.”

Steve, sitting next to him as usual, had blushed at the mention of his old ideas on team bonding. He’d never take it back, of course. All of his forced bonding exercises had helped the team understand each other.

Natasha had nodded, turning to watch Peter collapse over the counter with hysterical laughter as Clint told yet another story about his trainee days in SHIELD. “New traditions are made with new people.” She had leaned over the counter to kiss Steve on the cheek. “I guess we have you to thank for bringing him in.”

Steve had shrugged, reaching out to brush his thumb against her cheek. “Only if I can thank you all for helping us raise him.”

As Tony was often working when dinners were being prepared, it took him the longest to realize what was going on. Coming in halfway through conversations when the food was being moved to the table was what finally clued him in to the fact that he was missing something. When his curious gaze landed on Natasha, she winked. ‘Next time’ she mouthed.

The next time Clint was trying to teach Peter a new recipe, Natasha pulled Tony up from the workshop. “Trust me. You’ll never want to miss team dinner preparations again.” She led him to the kitchen and they both watched the occupants with fond eyes.

Clint was tossing ingredients out of the pantry for Peter to catch from his place sitting on one of the counters. Peter himself was setting them down with just enough time to catch the next one while still talking with Bucky who was leaning against the counter next to him. Steve sat on his usual stool at the bar counter, Bruce next to him. Their shoulders are pressed together as they have a quiet conversation but are obviously more invested in watching the happenings in front of them. They both wave to Phil when the man walks in with his laptop and sets up at the small dining table off to the side in his usual chair.

Tony looked to Natasha.

She shrugged. “Accidental team bonding. You should join.”

Tony’s gaze had softened as he looked over the room again, chuckling as Clint and Bucky argue over what pan to use and Steve yells out his opinion to be the tie breaker. As the cooking actually begins, he touches Natasha’s arm in silent thanks as he moves in to lean against Steve’s free side with a kiss to his temple.

Peter’s eyes had lit up at the appearance of his other father, immediately going over to pry him from Steve’s arms to show him his perfected chopping technique as he got the vegetables ready.

Natasha kisses Phil’s cheek as she sits on the table next to his laptop. “They’re quite a sight, huh?”

An adoring chuckle. “I don’t think Peter thought he’d get so much attention just trying to cook.”

A nod. “He’s thriving.”

And he was. Not a single direction, touch, or look was wasted on Peter. He soaked it up and learned everything he could from all of them. It was humbling. He wanted so badly to learn from them.

It was a pleasure to teach him.

It’s impossible to think of never seeing Peter again. Of never teaching him again. It wasn’t really a rare occurrence for someone in the tower to be teaching Peter. He learned to shoot from Clint and Bucky. Learned hand to hand from Natasha. He learned literature from both Phil and Clint and went to Bucky and Steve for history. Bruce and Tony handled math and science. In all, it was laughably easy for him to learn what he needed for school.

But cooking? He soaked in the love of his family when cooking. He was most relaxed, most happy, when cooking with them. His laughs were loud and his smiles were huge. He seemed unable to keep from touching everyone and never passed up an opportunity to hear a story. He seemed to cause them all to gravitate to him.

In the quiet of the ship, Natasha can’t help but wish they’d had more time with him.

Bucky had gotten a few hours of sleep before he had woken up in a panic and almost threw Natasha to the floor. He hadn’t quite gotten his brain to accept that they were all safe now and wasn’t used to being able to sleep without needing to stay aware of the space around him. Luckily, Natasha was quick to react and rolled smoothly from his lap and to her feet. After apologies from Bucky and some good-natured needling from Sam, they all settled back into their calm companionship.

Now, the quiet leaves ample time to think and Natasha finds her thoughts straying towards Peter again. Her eyes well up with tears of loss. She blinks them away. “Was he awake when they dragged him away?”

Bucky shudders slightly under her. It’s answer enough. He still speaks. “I wish I could say no.”

Sam hisses through his teeth.

Natasha squeezes Bucky’s arm in apology. Of course he was awake. Peter was a fighter. He wouldn’t have been taken down easily. All they could hope for was Peter losing consciousness before they tore him apart.

“I tried to stop them.” Bucky’s voice comes out shaky and brittle.

“Of course you did,” Sam growls. “None of us would ever think otherwise.”

Bucky swallows tightly, eyes squeezing shut. “Steve was down and about to get mauled…” he takes a shuddering breath. “And then Peter was dragged away.”

“You three aren’t all powerful,” Natasha soothes. “You were out there on your own, without backup, without shelter or sufficient weapons. If anything, I’d be arguing that we were the ones responsible.”

Bucky’s eyes snap open, wide with horror. “What?”

Sam shrugs, agreeing. “We were here, comfy in our safe little ship while we waited for you to come to us.”

“Of course you stayed here!” Bucky reaches out to grip his arm, needing a hand on both of them. “We’ve all agreed before to never add to the list of people in danger. That’s rule number one for every mission. You wait-”

“For them to make contact,” Natasha murmurs, cutting him off. She sits up and takes his face in her hands. “That’s always easier said than done. But out here? We had no timeline to stick to. We didn’t know how far away you were for the first few weeks. We had no idea of knowing how long it would take for you to get here. We were all losing our minds until we had your last known coordinates. And then Thor comes back only to tell us he couldn’t find anything…”

Bucky understands, letting go of Sam’s arm to run his flesh hand through her hair, having missed the soft touch. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “But anything that happened along the way would never be your fault.” He looks between them, taking Sam’s hand again when it’s offered to him. “You did what you should have. Everyone stayed together and kept each other safe. That’s all I would hope for. What happened out there? It’s on us. Whether it could be stopped or not will always be up for debate, but it will never include more than Clint, Steve, and me.”

Sam sighs, letting it go. “I can’t imagine how tough it will be for Steve to tell Tony.”

Bucky cringes. “I don’t envy him in that. But, speaking of telling things, should we have that conversation now?” He runs his thumb over Sam’s hand when he feels it tense in his hold. Whatever comes of this, he knows it’s going to change things. However, he’ll be damned if he lets Sam feel any sort of fear or doubt about how much he means to them. “I can’t imagine we’ll have many times alone after this until we get home.”

Natasha turns to Sam with a nod and a small smile. “It’s up to you,” she tells him. “I don’t want to make you feel like we’re ganging up on you. Right now, it’ll feel like two against one. But…” She stands from Bucky’s lap, reaching out for Sam to give her his free hand. “I’m hoping by the end of this conversation, it won’t be that way anymore.”

Sam looks between them, nodding once when he sees the hope in their eyes. He shuffles to a straighter sit when Natasha moves closer, swallowing sharply when she throws one leg over his, kneeling on the chair to seat herself on his thighs. His hands quickly move to her waist in an instinctual need to support her, eyes darting to Bucky in trepidation. He calms quickly when all he sees is gentle humor sparkling back at him.

Bucky shrugs. “She does what she wants. And honestly, I’ve never had a problem with anything she’d want to do with you.”

Sam’s too choked up to say anything for a few long moments.

“Tell me,” Natasha prompts, sitting back on his thighs to watch his face. Wants to take the weight from his shoulders once and for all.

“I started falling in love with you first.” It pours from his mouth like he can’t keep it in anymore. Like her permission was all he needed. “When I found out you and Steve didn’t have a thing going on, I… I thought about it. Asking you. But then…” He huffs a sad laugh. “Steve brought Bucky home. And he was… he was good.” His eyes are earnest, looking between them. “Everyone could see how much he was trying. How under everything Hydra made him…” he looks to Bucky, “you were good.”

Sam meets Natasha’s eyes again. “And then I saw him with you. Before I knew it, you were helping each other. I could tell neither of you knew exactly what you were setting in motion. You called it ‘no strings’ but in reality you were weaving them together to form a safety net. You started understanding each other. Started breaking down walls. It was…” He takes a shuddering breath. “It was beautiful. It wasn’t an easy relationship. It wasn’t ‘love at first sight’ or ‘I know you’re the One’. It was better. You forged it yourselves.”

Natasha stares at him, in awe of the way he puts their relationship into such eloquent terms.

Sam looks to Bucky now, swallowing nervously at the soft look directed at him. “And then I fell in love with you. With the way you loved her, but also… how you loved me. You may not have been in love with me, but… you always seemed to show up when I needed you the most.” He chuckles lowly, looking to Natasha. “He could read me like a book. Once he figured out the mornings I was awake when you guys came over at an ungodly hour meant I had stayed up after nightmares, he switched my coffee to decaf.”

Bucky blinks. “I didn’t think you knew that.”

Natasha laughs softly.

Sam gives him a small smile with a shrug. “I figured it out after a few mornings of falling back to sleep on the couch after finishing two cups. That never should have been possible.” He grins. “And then… I don’t know. Working with you guys. Making sure you got back safe. You guys always pulling my ass out of fires too. It… it was enough for me.” His voice softens to a murmur again. “I had decided it was enough for me. I didn’t need anything else. Just having you near and being able to love you in my own way… that’s all I wanted.”

“But it wasn’t easy, was it?” Bucky asks softly. His eyes are soft. “Even though I never really let myself look too closely into it, there was always something that made me sad. I always felt disappointed when we left your house. Or you left us. It always made me feel guilty, like I wasn’t seeing Natasha as ‘enough’. So you’re right. I may not have been in love with you, but that was only because I didn’t let myself look into the motives I had for taking care of you more than as a friend.”

Sam stares at him. He had hoped, with the easy way Bucky had reacted about all of this. But he never thought that Bucky would feel like that about him. He didn’t even know- “I didn’t even know if you were into guys.”

Bucky shrugs with a smirk. “Never pursued one back in the day because it was illegal, but I could admire. And then I was dating Natasha. I didn’t have a reason to look at anyone else. Well… I would often find myself watching you.” He winks at Sam’s dumbstruck look before turning to Natasha where she’s perched on Sam’s thighs. “I didn’t know what to think about that, so I pushed it away.”

She gives him a soft smile. “Well. We’re all here now.” She reaches out to sink her fingers into Bucky’s hair, pulling him closer with her hand cupped around the back of his head. “Back where we belong.” She meets his eyes seriously. “So let’s fix this. Because I don’t think it’s fair to leave Sam out of this relationship when I can see his hand in everything we’ve ever had to work out together.”

Bucky chuckles, kissing her lightly before turning his grin on Sam. “That’s true, isn’t it? Without him, we’d be a mess. It seems to me he’s been a part of this relationship for a lot longer than we think.”

Natasha hums with a smile, now meeting Sam’s eyes. “I guess the only thing to do is ask him if he’s felt left out.”

Sam stares at them, heart beating wildly in his chest. Hearing them talk about him, how they’ve viewed him this whole time, is doing things to him. He never would have suspected that they’d feel the same. That their dependence on him went so deep and was so valued. It’s more than he could have ever hoped for. He voices this. “Knowing this, that you guys want me here, is more than I could ever hope for.” His voice is rough. “I don’t need to take more than that. I don’t want to chance ruining anything.”

Natasha shakes her head, hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “Sam. No one can ever take anything from me. They can only accept what I freely give.”

Bucky slides his hand up to rest on the back of Sam’s neck, thumb rubbing gently against the pulse point he can feel pounding along the side. “Natasha doesn’t say things she doesn’t mean. You know this. Just as I don’t either.” He meets Sam’s eyes when they look to him. “This is us telling you that it’s okay to want more. That we’ll make just a little more room. You’ve already had a space here, we just never… cultivated it correctly.”

“We’re two broken people that are still learning what it means to love. Excuse us for not seeing that we’ve loved you much longer than we’ve allowed ourselves to believe. It’s scary to be in love with one person,” Natasha admits aloud. There are no walls here. She trusts these men with… everything. “To be in love with two? I wouldn’t even allow myself to think about that before.” She leans closer, feeling her own heart beat with sympathy when Sam’s eyes fall closed and he takes a shaky breath in. “I think I’m ready to be brave enough now.” She nudges his nose with hers.

Sam breathes against her lips. He understands. She’s waiting for him to accept what she’s giving. “I… I need you to be sure.” His breath hitches when he feels Bucky rest his forehead against his temple. “I need you both to be sure. I won’t be able to go back from this. I can’t get everything I’ve told myself I would never get only to have it taken away.”

“We can’t imagine not having you with us,” Bucky murmurs to him. The warm cocoon the trio has created feels… right. Like they’ve been missing out on something important all this time. “Think of this as continuing a relationship. Not starting one. We aren’t going to take it back. We’re both too deep ourselves.”

“Take a chance with us,” Natasha adds softly. “Let’s move past the ‘first date’ stage together. We’ve known each other far too long to leave you there any longer.”

Sam makes a wounded sound at that. He inclines his head, just the barest amount, to brush his lips against Natasha’s. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Natasha wants to be angry at Phil. But… days pass and she never finds the will to do so.

Clint on the other hand…

“You’re just going to have to wait him out.” Her voice is soft. “I don’t think he’s actually angry. I think it’s more…” she tilts her head, “he’s trying to get his mind wrapped around the fact that you aren’t dead. Accepting that is going to be hard after he’s finally accepted that you were gone.”

“I know.” Phil’s voice is soft as well. “I just… I wish he would talk to me. The past few months haven’t exactly been easy for me either.” He turns to her with a dry smile. “Fury didn’t even tell me that Clint was recovered until a few days ago.”

Natasha curses under her breath.

Phil nods. “He knew I’d want out if I knew. I don’t blame him, honestly. They had a hard enough time keeping me there as it was.” He sighs. “To be fair, I didn't ask. I thought I’d lost him to Loki forever. To hear that he was okay…”

Natasha watches him, understanding sinking in. She’s always seen how close the two are. They knew each other before they found her after all. And… Phil trusted Clint all the way back then when he insisted she join them. There was no questioning their loyalty to each other. But… there’s more to it than that. Now, she’s starting to see why she’s always felt that way. “It’s not just guilt, you know?”

Phil turns to her in question.

“He doesn’t just feel guilty. He’s been grieving. He lost his favorite person in this world.”

Phil huffs. “You’re his favorite person,” he grumbles.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “I am NOT his favorite person. You are. I’m his second favorite person.” She mutters a few curses under her breath when she sees the surprise in his eyes. “You’re an idiot. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it, Phil.”

Phil looks away. “No matter how much you might know it’s ridiculous, it’s really hard not to project your own wants over the actions of another person.”

Natasha huffs. “You don’t project, Phil.”

“I don’t do a lot of things I find myself doing where Clint is involved.”

Natasha stares at him. That was practically a confession. “Phil.” Her tone has softened. “Are you going to tell him?”

Seconds pass in silence.

“Only when… or if… he decides not to hate me anymore.”

“I don’t hate you.” The rough voice comes from behind them.

Phil stiffens, not turning. For once, he feels like being a coward.

Natasha stands with a sigh, walking around the couch to Clint. She kisses his cheek. “It’s time to tell the truth.”

Clint nods, swallowing sharply. “I will.”

With a pat to his shoulder, she moves past him.

Clint moves into the room, going to sit on the other end of the couch. He lets his eyes rest on Phil, waiting for him to look over. It takes a few seconds. When Phil’s eyes finally meet his, Clint manages a small smile. “Hey.”

Phil blinks. “Hey.”

“So… I figure I’ll let you call me an idiot before we get into anything else.”

Phil blinks again. “Why would I call you an idiot?” he asks softly.

Clint shrugs. “I’ve been waiting for you to disappear.” His jaw clenches as he looks away at the shocked look in Phil’s eyes. “I… I didn’t want to see you until I was sure. That… that I wasn’t crazy or you weren’t going to just…” he takes a breath. “I… don’t have any real lasting effects of Loki’s scepter, but…” a shudder, “I have too many dreams.”

Phil has had a lot of practice speaking ‘Clint’. He understands. Face softening, he finally relaxes. “I’m here, Clint. I’m alive. You aren’t seeing things and I’m not going to disappear. Whatever dreams you have, whatever you’ve seen, it wasn’t real. I’m real.”

Clint blinks away the wetness in his eyes. “No one at SHIELD trusts me anymore.”

Phil follows along to the new topic easily. “I know.” His voice is still gentle.

“But… Steve does.” Clint sniffs. “He said he knows I’m dangerous but… not to the team. It's just... so hard to believe and I keep waiting for him to just...”

Oh. This topic isn't all that far from the first one, is it? What else could have made Clint shift from 'dreams' to 'trust' other than his fears playing out right in his very mind. Not all of the dreams were of Phil disappearing. Some, and he'd wager that these were worse, could have been Phil telling him he didn't trust him. Or Steve and his new team. Clint might not be asking Phil to tell him whether he trusts him or not right now, but he does it anyway. “I trust you.”

Clint’s head snaps up. His wide eyes meet Phil’s.

Phil only gives him a small, sad smile. The surprise in Clint’s eyes makes his heart hurt. “I’ve always trusted you. And some god with daddy issues, who makes you do things you’d never do yourself, isn’t going to change that. Ever.”

Clint swallows sharply. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you looking at me like that,” he murmurs.

There it is.

Phil lets out a sad sigh. There may have been many reasons Clint had to take some time before coming to see him. But this… thinking Phil hated him or would never trust him again… Trust was more important between them than anything else. Clint doesn’t trust easily. He doesn’t get close to many people. But the trust between them… it was stronger than any other bond they could put a label on. No matter what, through anger or separate missions, they always knew they could trust each other. Whatever dreams are making Clint doubt that, Phil wants to put a stop to them now. “You’ll never have to see it,” he finally murmurs. “I trust you, Clint. And I’m sorry you had to even be a pawn of Loki’s like that.” He tries to smile. “I’m just so glad Natasha got you back. I was worried that, even if we defeated Loki, that you were going to be trapped under his hold or whatever magic he had controlled you with. That we’d never get the real Clint back.”

Clint’s eyes burn as he desperately tries to hold back the tears. “I didn’t know you were dead until after the battle was over,” Clint breathes.

Phil’s chest seizes.

“No one told me.” He grits his teeth. “Natasha said she thought about it, but they needed me. I couldn’t know until after because…” A shudder runs through him.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Phil moves to him then, sitting close enough to press their thighs together. He pries Clint’s hands away from where they’re clenched in his jeans, thumbs rubbing over the back of them as he holds them in his own. “Listen to me. I came here to see you for that very reason. To tell you that I don’t blame you. To see you and to show you that you didn’t have to blame yourself. That I was okay.”

Clint doesn’t look up, gritting his teeth as he stares down at their hands like it physically pains him to let Phil hold them. “You being alive doesn’t undo what I did.”

A hum. “Maybe not. But I am also very much alive.” He ducks his head down until he can get Clint to look at him. “And being alive isn’t much fun without you there to muck up my life.”

Clint chokes out a laugh.

“Medical was extremely boring without you there.” Phil grins a little. It fades as he takes a shaky breath. “I’ve missed you.” It comes out tentative.

Clint’s breath catches. It’s a confession. He hears it. He makes one of his own; “I’ve missed you, too.”

It’s late. Or early. However much time has passed, Clint’s body has finally decided it caught up on enough sleep to be aware of movement in the room again. He’d woken up when Phil had moved, body tensing up for just a second until he registered the soft blankets, the warmth of another body pressed close against his, and the distinct smell of Home.

Phil's soft voice going, "Shhh, it's just me. You're safe," is like a blanket of calm that sends Clint's body back into the boneless noodle it was before. Phil smiles to himself, feeling his entire chest warm at the heavy weight of Clint completely relaxed half on top of him. It's rare that Clint is ever that loose and pliant. It takes days after a mission or battle for him to completely relax, only to have the next threat raise its head days later and set him back on high alert again. To have Clint relax this quickly shows just how exhausted he is and shows how much he trusts Phil and the rest of their team to take care of whatever threat is coming next. Maybe they really should move back into the tower. If that's all it would take for Clint to relax more...

For a long time, the pair only lay there. Aware that the other is still awake, but unwilling to break the silence just yet.

Eventually, the weight in Clint’s chest gets too much to hold on his own. “I’ve missed you.” Clint holds his husband close, eyes burning where he’s tucked his face into his neck.

Phil hums. “I’ve missed you, too.” He kisses the top of Clint’s head. “Thank you for coming back to me. And for keeping the others safe.”

“Not all of them.” The words are barely heard.

Phil tightens his hold around Clint’s waist. “I know you did your best. You never do anything less.”

A sniff. “How?”

“How, what?”

“How do you always believe the best about me?”

Phil hums again. He thinks about it. Clint deserves such a question to be answered with thought. They’ve been married for a while now. Together for a bit longer than that. Partners for even longer. And yet… there’s always some piece of Clint that is afraid everyone will leave him. Phil understands. It’s never been a hardship to reassure him. “I think it’s because… ever since your first day at SHIELD, you’ve never given me a reason not to. You came to us in good faith. You overreached all of the other agents right out of the gate. You put up with shitty handlers until you found one you liked. One that could put up with you and… handle you the way you needed to be handled.”

Clint huffs a soft laugh.

Phil smiles. No, they were never more than Asset and Handler through their SHIELD days, but neither held the belief that there wasn’t an undercurrent of love since day one. Not anymore. They knew each other too well for that. Hindsight is 20/20 after all. “You push yourself past human limitations constantly. Raising the bar for non-powered heroes every day. Not a single second have I ever thought that you couldn’t be trusted, depended on, or believed. No matter what happens, no matter what mistakes you make, I won’t ever believe that they weren’t a byproduct of good intentions or a valid response for retaliation.”

Clint’s hands clench where they’re curved around the back of Phil’s neck and fisted in the shirt at his side. “God, I love you.”

Phil nudges his forehead with his chin to get him to tilt his head up for a soft kiss. “I love you too.”

Clint moves back to lay eye to eye with him, hands finding the other’s to hold them. “How do you know about my first days in SHIELD?”

Phil grins. “I was watching you. When Fury brought you in, I knew you were different. Special. No one could shut up about your skills. I watched the feed of the range almost every time you were there.”

Clint blinks. “I never knew that.”

Phil chuckles. “I never told you. I’d be embarrassed about it, but I don’t think there’s much to be embarrassed about with you anymore.”

Clint grins at him.

“That’s why I was ready and available when your mission went to shit that day. I was listening in. When contact was lost with your whole team, I knew I had to stop standing by. If I didn't do what I could to keep you safe, someone else was eventually going to run you into the ground or get you killed.”

Clint hums. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” Phil reaches up to cup the side of his face. “Now. Tell me about the trip. Anything you couldn’t say out there. I want to help you work through this.” Just as he always had. Where Clint rarely ever agreed to talk to a psychologist, there was always someone there who would listen to him. It was always Phil. Now would be no different.

So Clint does.

He talks about his fear when stabilizing Steve. The crippling weight of the trust Steve put in him to be able to help him without letting him bleed out. The blood on his hands and the panic in his veins. The nights he kept watch, eyes resting on the only family he was guaranteed at the moment and the sheer terror that would overtake him anytime he’d see the creatures stalking them in the distance. The days of traveling with only the hope of reaching their destination. The weeks of fearing one of them would be taken before they reached it. The moment one of them was. He ends with the aftermath of such a crippling blow.

Through it all, Phil offers his soft assurances.

“You knowing how to help Steve at all is astounding.”

“They couldn’t have had anyone better to watch over them. Being afraid is okay. Fighting despite the fear is what makes you so strong.”

“You made it back in one piece. Fighting against those creatures without anywhere to truly call ‘safe’? That’s amazing.”

“You went after Peter as soon as you could. You did your best. I know that.”

The words don’t erase any of his guilt. They don’t make him feel instantly better. But… it’s nice to know that someone is always in his corner. That they believe in him and that he doesn’t have anything to prove. Not here. When he’s done, he wipes his damp eyes and lets out a quiet, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For loving me.”

Phil slides closer, tangling their legs together as he cups Clint’s face and pulls it close enough to kiss him. It’s soft and firm at the same time. Claiming and reassuring. When he pulls back again, his eyes are warm. “There’s no one I could trust more to be as faithful, generous, caring, and dependable as you. I’ve told you to jump and you go as far and high as you can without having to ask. I’ve asked for you to trust me and you’ve given me more faith than I deserve.”

“Bullshit,” Clint mutters.

Phil smiles. “I know we joke about the others getting more credit in the media, but I hope you know that we all see you. We see everything you do for us. You make everyone laugh when we need it. You’re the first to offer help if you’re able. You do your best to keep an eye on everyone as much as possible. You protect us all with everything you have. It’s been a pleasure to love and be loved by you,” Phil assures him gently.

Clint pulls him close again, letting out a ragged sigh. His eyes sting again. “I need you to say it again.” His voice comes out hoarse.

Phil understands. Somehow he always understands. “It’s okay, Clint. It wasn’t your fault. You did what you could. Peter wouldn’t blame you and neither do we. You can let it go.”

Clint shudders against him, finally losing the battle to hold back his tears again. They’re quiet this time. Unobtrusive as he holds Phil close and just lets them fall. When he’s calmed himself he lets Phil check his arm, give him another dose of antibiotics, and pull him back down into his side.

“Go back to sleep. There’s still a few hours until daylight. I’ll stay right here.”

Clint has no doubt of that.

Chapter Text

Steve runs his fingers through Tony’s hair, content to just lie there and stare at the man he loves so much. After such a long separation, added on to their months of being ships in the night before all of this happened… Tony back in his arms? It’s almost perfect. There’s just one thing missing.

Steve’s eyes fall closed as shame moves in. Not telling Tony is one of the most horrendous things he could be doing. He feels like a fraud. He shouldn’t have even touched him. He doesn’t feel… worthy. If Tony didn’t look so worn and manic, if he hadn’t been begging for a way to get the numbers to stop, to quiet his mind to sleep, Steve never would have…

But that’s a lie, isn’t it? To say there wasn’t a single selfish bit of him that wanted to be able to touch Tony one more time; Before telling him that he was the one who let their son die. He knows full well that he’s taken advantage of how frayed Tony is to keep from telling him how he failed them.

His son and Tony.

The fact that Tony hasn’t asked for Peter yet shows just how tore up he’s been about the whole situation. And how tired he’s been. Eyes roaming over his husband’s face, Steve can see the bags under his eyes. Not rare, considering, but they’re darker than they’ve been in years. Not to mention the fact that Tony was never one to fall straight to sleep after sex. The relaxing with each other afterwards had always been his favorite part, though he’d never admit it.

Steve has no doubt that Tony had closed himself off to keep from spiraling into the depths of his mind, a battle he’s been in the middle of his whole life. A battle to keep the worst thoughts away, to keep from agreeing with thoughts of ‘not enough’ and ‘too weak to protect them’. In doing so, he must have subconsciously not wanted to know what had happened to their son. Why he hadn’t seen him yet. One last grasp on the detachment he was trying to hold on to.

Steve feels a bit sick at the thought. At having only aided such destructive tendencies.

It’s his bladder that finally forces Steve to get up from their makeshift bed, lips quirking just a bit at the way Tony groans a little but settles when Steve runs a hand over his head. Fingers through the hair, with a soft scratch towards the end, has always done the trick. He pulls on some clothes from the new bag as quietly as he can and slides out of the room.

The ship is quiet. He can see the silhouette of Bucky sitting in the pilot’s seat, Natasha curled up on his lap as they murmur to each other. Sam’s form is in the chair next to them with his leg stretched over to where his foot is held gently between Bucky’s, soft breaths telling Steve he’s asleep. Phil and Clint are probably catching up or sleeping in one of the other rooms, nowhere to be seen. Walking outside, Steve finally finds Thor and Rhodey only feet from the stairs, the pair having opted to stay outside while their other team mates catch up with their loved ones. Giving them all a bit of privacy. Thor nods to Steve as he passes but doesn’t speak. Seems to know he needs a moment to himself.

Steve is unable to walk by without touching his arm, as well as Rhodey’s, a light brush as he passes. He’s missed his team. Missed their support. He finds privacy on the other side of the ship, eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of the dangerous creatures that roam in the night. He doesn’t stay alone long, flashes of blood and bared teeth invading his head, and has to force himself not to run back around the ship when he’s done even though the sky is starting to lighten.

Rhodey is the first to speak when Steve steps up to their side. “You and Tony okay now?”

Steve hesitantly nods. “Breaking his walls… it’s not easy.”

Thor shakes his head. “Tony has a strong mind. Letting you in is a great gift.”

Steve's voice is frail when he answers, “I know.”

Rhodey opens his mouth, then hesitates.

Steve dreads his next words.

“How’d he take the news about-”

“I haven’t told him yet,” Steve interrupts in a choked voice.

Rhodey spins on him, eyes flashing. “You what?”

Steve flinches, looking away from disapproving glares as he sinks his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “How do I… how do I tell him something like that? That I couldn’t even…” his throat closes up and he feels the wave of shame and despair creeping over him yet again. His hands come up to press his palms into his eyes and his shoulders curl forward as if his chest is caving in. “It just keeps replaying in my head over and over and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Rhodey’s eyes soften. He turns to Thor, who is watching Steve with distress.

“I’m going to tell him. I have to. I just…”

“You should have told him already, Steve,” Rhodey cuts in. It’s firm, though still soft in understanding. “He deserves to know. The fact that he hasn’t asked shows just how messed up he’s been.”

“I know.” It’s a breath. Those very thoughts from earlier are loud now, clamoring in his head

Thor’s eyes are sad. “As his father and your husband, he should be told as soon as possible.”

“Told what?”

Steve has had enough asthma attacks in his life before the serum to fully remember what they were like. The pressure in his chest, the lack of oxygen in his lungs as his vision started darkening before his mother or Bucky could get him to breathe with them or get him his medicine the times they could afford it. The ice cold fear. The fear is for a different reason now. But the way it feels like his lungs collapse… that’s familiar.

“Told what, Steve?” There’s a sharper edge to his voice now.

Steve turns, hating the suspicious look on Tony’s face. The soft vulnerability from the night before is gone now. “Tony…”

“It seems like there’s something that the others know that I don’t.” Tony looks to Rhodey and Thor, nodding when they don’t make eye contact. He looks back to Steve. “Mind telling me what’s going on here?”

Steve can’t pull anything together. The ground is gone. He was going to go in and wake Tony up after he had time to think. He was going to prepare his words, figure out how to tell him how sorry he was. He was going to figure out just how to keep Tony from hating him… if that was even possible. That time is gone now.

Tony’s eyes widen after a second, eyes snapping over to Thor before returning to Steve.

Steve understands. Tony realizes what Thor had just said. As his father… He feels cold all of a sudden. Frozen in place as he waits for the guillotine to drop. He can see it. Razor sharp, held by the thinnest thread…

Tony feels something cold wash through him as he suddenly gets it. The whole reason he had gotten up. He came to find his son. To see him and his other teammates who made it back yesterday. But his son should have been waiting to see him too. Hell, now that he’s thinking clearly, he knows Peter would have come to him before now no matter what was going on between him and Steve. But… “Where’s Peter?” It comes out flat. His eyes move up to bore into Steve’s.

There’s the drop.

Steve wonders, vaguely… idiotically… what Tony would do if his head were to just roll across the ground. Would he care?

“Steve, where is Peter?” Tony steps forward when he still doesn’t get an answer, face hardening.

Steve almost takes a step back, already crumbling inside at the sight of Tony’s walls pulling back up. “Tony…”

“Where’s my son, Steven?”

A punch to the gut would have been nicer. His son. Not ‘our’. He already knows what’s coming and hates Steve for it. “S-something happened on the way-”

“I’ve figured that much out!” Tony’s hackles are up, hands fisted at his sides. “Where. Is. He.”

Steve swallows down the urge to vomit. “He’s gone.”

“Gone?” Another step forward. “What do you mean, gone?” His eyes are cold now, past the point of fire to the ice-cold pain of being burned.

Steve blinks away tears. Doesn’t want to cry right now. He doesn’t deserve to. This is all on him anyway. “Don’t make me say it,” he pleads. “I can’t.”

Tony sneers at him and Steve feels it like a slap to the face. “Don’t want to own up? Huh? The great Captain America can’t own up to his mistakes?”

The ice that spreads through his body feels very real. It’s been years since Tony has been this vicious to him.

Tony raises his chin at his silence. “Don’t even have the decency to tell me, do you Rogers?”

Steve jerks back as if slapped. There. That’s when he knows he’s lost him. With the use of his old last name, he cracks. “He’s dead okay!” His voice is cracked and bleeding, pooling at his feet as he feels himself start to fall apart again. “He’s dead and I couldn’t do anything to stop it! Those blood-thirsty monsters attacked and I couldn’t protect our son! You happy now?!” It’s a roar of pain.

Off to the side, Rhodey understands with a sudden wash of sympathy. With the broken way Steve gasps out the words, he has no doubt that this is the first time Steve has said it out loud. That’s what’s made this so hard. He hadn’t even admitted it to himself yet.

Tears overflow in Tony’s eyes, the rest of his body is still. Stiff and vibrating with anger. Through the silent tears, his cold eyes don’t leave Steve’s face. “And what? The first thing you do when you get back is lie to me so you can fuck me? You were going to wait and see how long it took for me to figure it out? To ask someone where he was and let them tell me so you didn’t have to?”

Steve shakes his head, his own tears escaping. He’s unable to keep himself from reaching out to Tony’s arm. He just needs… “No, Tony. Of course not. I didn’t-”

Tony finally moves, jerking back from his hand with a hissed, "Don't touch me."

"I didn't mean to treat it as a secret," Steve pleads. Desperate to fix this mess. "I was going to-" He makes the mistake of reaching out again.

A solid crack to the jaw that can send Steve off his feet is very rare for someone to do without the help of a machine or inhuman strength. But Steve is unprepared and Tony is fueled by anger and desperation. To just get a minute to understand what this all means. To process the fact that Peter... That Steve... Steve didn't tell him. He watches numbly as Steve stumbles to the side and falls to his knees. He doesn’t even feel his hand throbbing as he takes a few steps back. “Don’t. Touch me.”

Steve puts a hand to his jaw as he groans, not even moving to get up. He’s had worse pain, but this hurts a million times more in a different way.

It feels like finality.

Tony turns, practically stumbling towards the ship. He doesn’t say another word. Doesn’t look back.

He brushes by Bucky, who had shown up just in time to freeze in shock at the swing. He moves forward now, eyes wide as he kneels next to his best friend. “Steve?”

Thor and Rhodey stand back, staring in their own shock. They both flinch back when Bucky looks to them, eyes fierce.

“Why didn’t you step in?”

Thor shrugs. “It was not our fight.”

Rhodey winces when Bucky’s gaze moves to him. “Thor is right. They need to deal with this themselves. We didn’t want to interfere. They’ve always fought. We shouldn’t treat them like they need a referee.”

“He’s never hit me before.”

Steve’s low voice surprises them all. The three turn to see him looking at blood on his fingers. Most likely from a split lip.

He doesn’t look up. “We’ve both thrown things before. Punched walls. Screamed ourselves hoarse. Went for walks to cool down. But we’d promised to never hit each other.” His voice wavers. “I never wanted to lose control with the strength I have and he… he said he never wanted to be like… like Howard.” He sniffs. “I guess it’s different when I’m a monster.”

All three frown, but it’s Rhodey who can’t keep from speaking up. He’s been through Tony’s deprecating. He doesn’t want to see Steve fall into that pit too. “Steve, you aren’t-”

His head whips around. “You weren’t there! I may as well have killed him myself for all the good I did!” His blue eyes are rimmed in red, face contorted into one of complete self-loathing despite the deep split on his bottom lip. It’s an expression that looks out of place on his face, though Steve would recognize it if he stood in front of a mirror. It’s one he used to see all the time; Tony used to be the master of self-hatred.

Bucky grips Steve’s shoulders when he drops his head. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” When Steve refuses to lift his eyes to meet his, he grips his face. “Steve!”

Steve shakes his head, shoulders starting to heave with struggled breaths.

Rhodey sighs, patting Thor’s side when he sees Bucky will handle the Steve half of the problem. “We should go talk to Tony.”

Thor nods thoughtfully. “It seems they may need some meddling from us to clear this up.”

Rhodey snorts a little. “You should know how to do that well, Loki being your brother and all.”

Thor chuckles dryly as they walk away. “His meddling rarely turns out to be anything good.”

Bucky doesn’t pay them any mind. He’s busy trying to get a handle on Steve’s panic attack. “Steve!” he hisses, “Breathe, punk!”

Steve shakes his head, leaning over as Bucky presses on his neck to get his head between his knees. “I- c-can’t.” His hands grip Bucky’s arm, shaking as his lungs start to burn. Even with the serum, his body needs oxygen. “B-buck. I can’t…”

“I thought I was done doing this shit,” he grumbles, moving to sit behind him and pull him back against his chest. “Breathe with me, Stevie. Come on. Breathe.”

Steve’s hands move to grip his knees, chest shaking with the struggle to breathe regularly. “W-why can’t I b-b-”

“It’s all in your head,” Bucky murmurs, his flesh hand moving up to press over Steve’s stuttering heartbeat. “Even super soldiers can get panic attacks. You’ve had your fair share of regular panic attacks before but this is the first one that’s got your lungs in its fist, isn’t it?”

Steve gasps. “Hurts m-more.”

Bucky sighs. “Leave it to Stark to know just what to do to tear you to pieces.” He rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Steve. Tony loves you. He’s just angry. You need to breathe now. He’ll be even more angry if he comes back to find out you suffocated.”

Steve lets out a choked sound that barely passes as a laugh. “He w-won’t c-care. He-”

“You know that’s not true. He’s angry. Just like you’re angry at yourself. But you need to give him time. Give him time to grieve. Just like you. He loves you, Steve.” He frowns at the shudder that runs through his friend’s body. “And you need to calm the hell down. Right now. You hear me? Calm down Steven.”

“I can’t lose him too. I c-can’t.”

“You won’t. Listen to me. You won’t. Just breathe with me. In and out. Nice and steady. Slow it down.”

It takes a while, but Steve eventually listens, matching his breaths to the rhythm of the chest behind him. “Like old times, huh?” Bucky used to be the master of controlling Steve’s asthma attacks.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’d be fine without a repeat.”

Natasha is suddenly sitting next to them. Her lips quirk. “You guys are sickeningly adorable.” Her smile widens when Bucky lets out a sigh.

Steve’s head falls to turn to her, held up by Bucky’s shoulder. “Where’d you come from?” His breathing is evening out, though he sounds exhausted.

Natasha gives him a gentle smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I came to check up on you guys. Tony came storming in and neither of you followed.” She tilts her head when Steve turns away from her hand, raising an eyebrow at Bucky. “James, do you have something to tell me? It’d be nice to have some warning if you two were planning on running off together. Sam will be devastated.”

Bucky gives her a withering look. “Tasha, please. He’s hurting.” He helps Steve sit up more when his heartbeat is finally almost back to normal again. “They both are.”

Natasha rests her elbow on her knee, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand. “Steve. What did you do?”

Steve’s face falls to his hands. “I let Peter die. I-”

“Wrong. What did you do?”

Bucky tilts his head at her.

She gives a small shake of her own.

Steve is quiet for a moment. Then, “I… I was a coward. I didn’t-”

“Wrong.”

Steve finally looks to her. He looks more weary than he did when he finally made it to the ship. “I don’t understand.”

Natasha smiles softly. “Dwelling on what you did wrong is what will poison you in the end. You can’t focus on that.”

Steve looks away.

“I’m not Tony. You don’t need to justify your bad choices. You can talk about what you’ve done to try and fix things instead. Even if you don’t think it’s enough. Even if you aren’t happy with them or the outcome. So. What did you do?”

Bucky pulls farther away, making Steve support himself. Start to put himself back together.

Steve wipes away the tear tracks on his face. “I couldn’t get myself up off the ground to save him. I wanted to. So, so badly. But I couldn’t. And... I was late in telling Tony. But I… I did what I thought I had to do. I was trying to wait until he was more stable. Or until I was able to explain it well. It didn’t happen, but I tried.”

Natasha nods. “Even Captain America can do no more than try sometimes,” she murmurs. Reaches out to take his hands. “Did you break through to him last night?” When Steve nods, she lets out a soft hum. “Then the first step was made, at least. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through lately, but you and Tony need each other. As much as he may seem angry, you and I both know he’s just hurting a bit too much to handle right now. So just wait. Okay? You waited a long time for him before. You can do it again, can’t you?”

Steve smiles a little. “Always.”

“There’s our Cap. Now. Let’s get inside.” She looks up. “Looks like a storm is moving in. It always excites the Demons.”

Steve nods and takes the hand Bucky offers to be pulled to his feet.

Bucky throws an arm around Steve’s shoulders, the other resting along Natasha’s. “Come on. Looks like we’re finally going to be inside and stay dry from the rain.”

Steve sniffs one more time before he forces himself to stand tall and shove it all away. There are more important things to do than worry about than things he can never change. Like fixing them. He lets Bucky steer him inside.

***

“Tony?” Rhodey knocks on the door of the room Tony is rarely ever found in. He cracks open the door when he doesn’t answer, sighing at the sight.

It’s rare for anyone other than Steve to see Tony Stark cry anymore. Over the years, only during some close calls and stressful recoveries has Tony ever allowed himself to cry in front of his team. Even so, Rhodey doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man as broken as this since realizing he was left alone after the death of his parents.

“Oh, Tony.” Aware of Thor following him in, Rhodey goes to sit by Tony and run a soft hand down his shuddering back.

Thor sits against the other wall, oddly silent.

It doesn’t take long for the genius to start talking. “You always think about it, you know?” His voice trembles. “Every parent worries about what’s going to happen to their kid when they’re away. Are they going to get into a car wreck? What if they get a terminal illness? What if someone hurts them?” He gets his breath back, wiping his face on his sleeve. “And I know our jobs add on even more perilous situations but I never actually thought I'd outlive him.” God, his son. His son is dead. Peter is dead. It doesn’t feel real. The little boy he adopted and promised to protect should have never had something like this happen to him. He can only imagine… He wipes fresh tears away, letting his face fall into his hands to rest there afterwards.

Rhodey puts an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into his side.

Thor finally speaks from his spot nearby. “Aye,” he murmurs. Waits until Tony looks to him with red-rimmed eyes. “But imagine what it must have been like to see it happen before your own eyes.”

Tony blinks, feeling sick to his stomach as he realizes what he did to Steve. How he blamed him. In his own anger, he had pushed away the one person who could be hurting more than himself.

Rhodey’s arm tightens around him. “Steve blames himself,” he murmurs. “Called himself a monster, as if it were his hands that took Peter’s life.”

Thor hums. “He has not been himself since they’ve returned.” His voice is soft. “He did not handle it well when Bucky and Clint were telling of their journey yesterday. Steve…” he struggles to find the words, “He was unaware of what truly happened until Clint told us. Steve was almost dying while Clint tried to save Peter. And… he had not told him of what he had found until yesterday.”

Tony’s heart clenches, anger finally lessening to allow the flood of pain. At not having been there. At putting more blame on Steve than he would ever truly deserve. He knows, deep down he really knows, that Steve did his best. That he wouldn’t have given up trying to save Peter until there was nothing left in him, made obvious by the new information that Steve was almost lost that night as well. As for not telling him… Well… who ever truly knows how to tell their loved ones someone is dead? And... he had hit him. God, he'd never meant to do that. He was just so angry and then Steve touched him and he... He just needed Steve to give him space and time to figure out just how to deal with such a painful truth. But he'd never meant to hurt him like that.

Rhodey speaks aloud his previous revelation. “Honestly, I don’t think he admitted to himself what happened until he said it to you. It seemed very… painful for him to get those words out. Something deeper than trying to tell you. I think he had to tell himself too.”

Tony feels his anger start to drain away. “And then I treated him like shit.”

Rhodey smiles a little, leaning down to make eye contact. “You could always fix it, you know.”

Tony nods, taking a breath and wiping his face again. “Yeah.” There’s still a heaviness to his voice. But… it’s not anger anymore. All of his anger seeps away, leaving only the pain. Pain that would be easier to manage if it were shared with the only other person who could understand what he’s feeling right now. Even if only for that reason, he wants to fix things with Steve. But more than that… Peter would want him to fix things with Steve. He never liked it when they fought. For his son… he would hear Steve out. See if his explanation overpowered any of the possible remaining anger held against him.

He's lying to himself. He wants to fix things for himself too.

Thor stiffens as the ship suddenly creaks. He looks to the other two with a frown. “A storm is coming.”

Chapter Text

Going inside, the three find Sam and Phil looking out the front window. They turn to them, Sam's original smile fading when he sees the bruise on Steve’s chin and the cut on his lip. “Steve, what happened?” He had seen Tony flee to his room and knew something must have finally been said, but he didn’t expect to see Steve bleeding.

Steve grimaces, looking down. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.” He can't even be angry. He withheld truth from Tony and that was tied up with physical touch. If Tony said not to touch him, he should have stayed back. After knowing Tony for so many years, he's sure he'll be hating himself for it eventually anyway. Tony doesn't like hurting people. No matter how angry he is.

Bucky tightens his arm around Steve in a small hug before finally stepping away. He smiles softly as Sam immediately pulls him into his side with a gentle hand on his hip.

Phil cuts in, seeing that Steve doesn’t want to talk about it. “It looks like this one’s going to be bad.” He leans closer to the window to see more of the dark clouds.

Clint comes out of one of the back rooms, joining the others in looking out the window. “It’s nice to be inside during the rain for a change,” he mutters.

Phil grins. “Come now. You’ve been in worse situations.”

Clint rolls his eyes. “I’ve always hated the rain.”

Phil nods. “I know.” He reaches out to take Clint’s hand in his, sweeping his thumb over the back of it when he gives him a grateful look. He’s going to have a hard time keeping his hands to himself for a while.

Steve smiles a little at his friends. He’s glad everyone else is getting along fine. Just because he and Tony aren’t on good terms doesn’t mean he’d ever begrudge his friends’ happiness.

Rhodey shows up then, followed by Thor. He frowns when he sees the sky darkening from through the windows. “It’s getting dark again.”

Thor hums. “This is going to be a strong storm. We may need to prepare ourselves for some strong winds and heavy rain.”

Taking Thor at his word, Sam heads over to the door.

Tony suddenly shows up next to him, stopping him from closing it with a hand on his shoulder. “I should go out and secure my work.” His eyes are raw and his voice isn’t much better. It’s obvious he’s been crying but no one comments on it.

Steve opens his mouth to offer help, but Thor beats him to it.

“I will help. The winds are getting worse.” He moves to stand beside him, Mjolnir in hand.

Tony nods in acceptance, leading the way.

Tony’s red eyes and ragged appearance makes Steve feel like shit all over again. The softness of his voice as he stops Sam from closing the door makes him want to pull him into his arms and comfort him. Instead, he absently rubs at the burning in his chest as he turns and tries to find something else to do. He’s sure Thor has been the one to help Tony while he was gone. But… it still hurts that he’s not the one Tony turns to at the moment. Not that he expected him to.

Thor follows Tony out into the starting rain, looking around with worry. “We need to hurry.”

Tony nods, reaching up to pull down the tarp he had slid away to work on wiring.

Thor sets his hammer down and moves in to help, a sense of urgency filling him. “What else needs to be done?” He follows Tony to tie down the last tarp that’s flapping open over exposed wires.

“Just this.” It comes out as a mumble. His mind is on Steve. As soon as he’s done out here they’re going to talk. They’ll fix this. And, even though it sounds impossible, together they’ll find a way to deal with what happened. Even now, new tears slide down his cheeks. This storm had interrupted his mourning.

Inside, Bucky’s eyes are scanning the grounds around the ship that he can see from his position at the controls. When Natasha comes up next to him, he turns to her. “We only ever had them attack at night but we kept moving so much we didn’t have many days of rain on our journey. Do storms bring them as well?”

Natasha shrugs. “We came inside anytime it rained but sometimes we would see them outside or hear them in the distance. It always seemed to get them riled up. It’s also never been this dark before.”

Steve steps up behind him. “What’s going on?”

Bucky turns. “Nothing. I’m just making sure our little friends don’t show up until those two come inside.”

Steve’s eyes snap to the window, eyes sharpening. “Thor is out there. They’ll be fine.” It sounds less like a fact and more like he’s trying to reassure himself.

Natasha nods. “Exactly.”

Clint peeks over her shoulder. “There’s something there.”

As one, all three turn to look.

With his sharper eyes, Clint had seen it before they did. Now, the shapes moving at the treeline are unmistakable. As they watch, one of them moves from the shadows into the open, slinking towards the side of their ship with intent that tells them all exactly where Tony and Thor are though they can’t see them. Seconds later, another follows.

“Fuck.” It comes out as a snarl as Steve instantly heads towards the door. Thor or not, he's not standing by while Tony is out there.

The rest of team is on the same page, gathering whatever weapons they have before heading towards the door as well. They all miss the other creatures forming from the shadows.

Steve leaps to the ground, bypassing the stairs entirely as he sets his sights on the creature moving in on the turned backs of Tony and Thor. His heart stops when it leaps. “NO!”

Tony and Thor turn just in time to see glowing eyes and sharp teeth, unable to even move their arms up in protection before it’d be on them. But the pain never comes. Instead, a solid force slams into the creature barely a foot away from them, sending both figures tumbling across the ground in a flurry of limbs and teeth.

It takes only a second for Tony to recognize his husband, fear crashing over him as he watches them roll across the ground. Flashes of sharp teeth and very vulnerable flesh have him surging forward. “Steve!” He runs towards the two, breath catching when snapping jaws get too close to Steve’s face and relaxing just a little when Steve kicks the thing off of him so hard it hits the ground rolling a few feet away.

An arm snags around Tony’s waist, Thor yanking him back before turning him towards the ship that’s now farther away than either would like. “Go! You aren’t safe without your armor!” Mjolnir is whirling in his hand and he turns to help, only to pause when he sees the number has increased.

Bucky curses from the door of the ship as he sees three more creatures coming in to circle around Steve, now standing in the middle of them. He turns to Natasha as Thor charges in to break it up. “You and Clint protect the rest. You hear me? If you need to close the doors, do it.”

Natasha answers him with a kiss before shoving him out the door.

Bucky pulls his guns from his belt as he descends the stairs, finally finding reassurance in them once again. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” He grins as one breaks away from the others, coming towards him as another moves towards Thor. That makes things much easier for Steve.

Tony is moving from where Thor is distracting the other one that broke away from the group, freezing as the eyes of the one heading towards Bucky look to him.

Firing both guns simultaneously, Bucky efficiently unloads six rounds into the creature before it can change course, causing it to release an earsplitting yowl that echoes around them as it flinches back. Though distracting and weakening it enough for Tony to run over and make it to Bucky before it can decide to go after him, it still doesn’t take it long to set its shaky gaze on the running figure.

Cursing a blue streak, Bucky unloads four more shots as it runs towards them both before it finally falls to the ground in its weak state. He has to unload two more into its head before it’s ribs stop moving. “I knew the damn things were tough, but shit,” he growls.

Tony frowns, keeping his back to Bucky as he calculates the distance to the door of the ship and the number of shots Bucky most likely has left. “You only have two more, don’t you?”

“Natasha didn’t exactly pack heavy artillery for a trip that wasn’t supposed to need it,” he hisses back. “She only brought our smaller guns.” His eyes narrow as another one comes out of the woods. The wind and rain is getting harder, the morning light almost completely gone now. None of them have seen a storm like this on the planet yet.

Thor is still fighting his opponent, booming out his frustrations when it dodges his hammer and bares its teeth at him. They seem to be able to feel the static from the lightning, always jumping away just in time.

One brave creature decides to try going up the stairs into the ship. It finds itself with an arrow in its eye before Natasha takes care of the rest. She unloads a full clip into it before it falls off the side, dead before it hits the ground. No others attempt the stairs.

Steve is dodging between two others, his own teeth bared as he gets hits and kicks in between dodging sharp claws and teeth. Every time he tries to get closer to the ship, they head him off and back him farther away from it. The rain is picking up, running down into his eyes. He glances towards Bucky when he moves to step in and help, eyes widening when he sees Tony is still out in the open and unarmed. “Get inside!” he yells, dodging another swipe but missing the next one.

Tony’s own eyes widen when he sees Steve try to overcompensate and his foot slips on the wet ground, sending him down hard on his side. He has to block the swipe with his arm. The sight of sharp claws shredding into soft skin makes his chest constrict. “Steve!”

Letting out a pained cry, Steve still uses the opportunity to grip the creature’s leg and twist, the crack of bone echoing before it’s drowned out by a pained yowl. Leaning farther over to support himself with his elbow, he swings his leg around and kicks, connecting right under the rib cage and sending it crashing into its companion lunging towards him. That gives him enough time to stand. His back is to Tony and Bucky now, arms spread to create the illusion of a more formidable barrier between the creatures and his friend and husband. Blood is running down his arm to drip from his fingertips in rivulets.

Tony steps forward in horror, jerking to a stop when a metal hand closes around his arm.

Bucky yanks him back, eyes fierce. “If you want him to survive, you’d get in the damn ship! Distractions are what cost him!”

Tony swallows sharply, wondering if that were a reference to how Peter died. They said Steve was hurt as Peter was taken. He nods once, while wishing he had been able to save enough of his Iron Man armor to be helpful. He’s not used to being the vulnerable one. Though he’s one of the smaller members of the team and one of the few completely human, he always had a trick up his sleeve. Lately, all of his tricks have been used up on the ship. He starts running towards said ship, sure that the other creatures are being distracted.

But, you see, the thing about Tony’s life is that things never happen the way he wants them to. Try to save your life and you’ve made technology that others will kill you for. Marry Captain America and people wonder if you bribed him. Adopt a son and he dies at the age of nineteen. Head for safety? Become the target.

He’s almost there when glowing eyes appear under the wing, out of visible range of Clint and Natasha’s weapons. He skids to a frozen stop, arms at his sides as he stares the creature down. His eyes shift up to Natasha and Clint to indicate that there’s a problem, giving them a small hopeless smile. He knows he’s still too far away for either of them to shield him effectively.

Clint strings curses together, sighting another arrow while Natasha adjusts the grip on her gun for when the Demon makes it out into the open. She knows it won’t do much good. It takes too many bullets to take these things down and if it's moving, she can't get a clear shot to vital areas like the one that attempted to get into the ship. But... maybe it’d keep Tony in one piece until someone had a chance to get to him. Especially if Clint fires some well-placed arrows into it. Behind them, Sam and Rhodey are practically trembling with restrained energy. But there isn’t enough ammo. Natasha has the last clip. There’s nothing they can do.

Phil rests his hand on the back of Clint’s neck. A comforting, supportive touch.

“Don’t let it touch him, Natasha.” Rhodey’s voice is pleading.

“You know I’ll do my best,” she murmurs back.

Sam’s hand rests on the small of her back.

The sounds of another creature being beaten to death by Mjolnir sounds through the rain before the sounds of fighting go silent, Thor and Bucky having helped Steve take care of his creatures. Bucky curses as his eyes land on the glowing orbs floating in the darkness under the wing of the ship and realizes he’s out of ammo. “Damnit, Tony.”

Thor comes to stand by his side, hand clenching around his hammer as he wonders to himself if it’d get there in time and hurt it enough or make it angrier and attack Tony with more viciousness. The way they seem to jump out of Mjolnir’s path more often than not makes it less of a chance worth taking. To risk missing…

Steve is the one who walks past the two, eyes shifting between the back of his husband and the creature, only stopping when the creature tenses at his approach. He leans forward, hands open at his sides. Blood still drips from his injured arm, the wound not clotting because of the rain. He does his best to keep his voice steady when he speaks. “Tony. Back up. I’m right behind you, okay?”

Tony takes one step back, freezing when the creature lets out a low hiss. “No can do, buttercup.”

Steve’s heart clenches at the nickname. Loves Tony all the more for trying to keep things light in every dire situation. “I won’t let it get to you. Okay? Just… just get to me, love. I’ll figure the rest out.” Desperation bleeds through his voice.
'
“And what? Let it maul you?”

Steve grits his teeth against the sharp words that want to spill forth. About how just minutes ago Tony didn’t even want to look at him. Instead, he eyes the size of the creature in the shadow of the ship. Makes a few calculations of his own. It’s one of the biggest of these creatures he’s seen. When it moves an inch more into the dim light coming from the ship, his eyes catch on its scars. He’s fairly sure this is the one that bested him. That took his son. The thought makes him seethe. It followed them.

He lies through his teeth to Tony, trying to say anything that will get him to back up. “I’ve taken down bigger.”

Tony lets out a huff. “You always were a bad liar, Steve.”

Steve takes a step closer. He hears Bucky muttering behind him. Hopes he’s talking to Thor about a backup plan if things get ugly. Keeping his eyes on the glowing ones in front of him, he takes yet another step. He stops when they lower, signaling the creature getting into a crouch.

Tony takes an involuntary step back.

“Tony. Please.” Steve’s voice catches. Clearing his throat he tries again. “I’m not going to let it happen again. Just… just turn and run. Okay? Do you trust me?”

Tony swallows, heart speeding up. He nods once.

Steve’s heart clenches, eyes locked on the back of Tony’s head. “Okay then. On three. One. Two.”

“Three!” It’s Tony that says it, spinning on his heel and sprinting towards Steve faster than any of them thought possible.

The monster is right behind.

Steve does more than his part, meeting Tony before he even makes it half-way and spins them both around to put himself between Tony and the sharp claws and teeth of the attacker as it leaps. He knew he wouldn’t have time to stop it. His goal was only to cover Tony as much as he could. Time still seems to slow as he looks down to meet Tony’s eyes, registering the way they widen before a white-hot pain shoots through his left shoulder.

He lets out a sharp cry as they start to fall from the weight and impact, barely catching himself before he and the creature crush his husband. Hitting the ground, he does his best to turn to the side but doesn't make it. Instead, he touches down on his elbow, pushing is arm up at an awkward angle and making his arm on that side give out with a sickening pop. In a second, he knows that was a mistake. Through the pain that spikes up and down his entire left side from the dislocation and the teeth in his shoulder, he knows he’s leaving both Tony and himself vulnerable even as he’s falling to the side.

When the creature releases Steve’s shoulder, Tony’s arm raises almost immediately, seeing the opening and accounting for Steve’s weakness like they’ve both done so many times before. Steve can see the fear in Tony’s eyes, inches from his own, but he still places his arm between Steve’s head and the creature just as its teeth descend again.

Everything happens in the span of three seconds that feel infinitely longer. As if time has slowed itself down just to mock them.

Steve has a split second to think, quite idiotically, ‘Huh. Time really is relative.’

Then Tony cries out and Steve’s whole world turns red.

Pain in his shoulder forgotten, Steve shoves himself up and forces the creature to slide from his back but it doesn’t let go of Tony’s arm. His heart crumbles at the cracking yell that rips from Tony’s throat as he’s dragged a couple of feet. He hears another cry echo in his mind that’s haunted him ever since he failed it. Then everything gets pretty hazy.

Over the years, Steve’s gotten pretty good at popping his own shoulder back into place and it barely takes him a second to do so now. He barely thinks about it, eyes zeroing in on the jaws that refuse to let go of Tony’s arm instead. Without even thinking, he lunges forward and grits his teeth through the pain of moving his arm so soon in order to get his hands on the creature. With both hands on either piece of the jaws holding on to Tony’s arm, he yanks. Hard.

The ear-splitting yowl that fills the air a split second after a sickening crack doesn’t phase him as he lets go of the now broken jaw and grabs a handful of the thing’s skin to throw it to the ground once he sees Tony’s arm is free. As another high pitched squeal sounds from the creature, his hand grips its throat and presses it into the ground. He ignores its struggling, hand only gripping tighter as he kneels on its rib cage and avoids the flailing limbs and sharp claws.

He eyes the loose jaw with little sympathy. Even if he let the creature go now, it wouldn’t survive. Wouldn’t be able to eat. Still. He wants to see to its death himself. As the vision of Peter getting dragged from him and Tony’s bleeding arm run through his mind, he throws a swift punch into the rib cage rattling below his knee. A flurry of activity as the creature tries to escape, whining pitifully. It stills with another punch, the crack of multiple ribs sounding in the area that are echoed by a another pitiful whine.

Pulling his arm to his chest with a grimace, Tony doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve as he pushes himself to his knees and readies himself for damage control. Steve on a rampage is a sight to behold. Always is. But the fallout is always disastrous.

Steve leans down, teeth bared at the animal he’s conquered. “This time, I win.” One more vicious punch to the head renders the creature unconscious.

Tony moves forward, freezing in surprise as the punches keep going. “Steve.”

Steve doesn’t pause, even when the creature finally stops breathing. He pummels the thing with a rage that could beat the monster’s own moments before. He doesn’t stop, even as he beats it bloody.

Tony winces at the sounds of bones cracking, not knowing if they’re in Steve’s hand or what’s left whole in the creature. “Steve, honey. It’s okay.” He moves forward, bloodied arm cradled to his chest.

“It’s not okay!” Steve finally explodes, falling forward to sink his fingers into the ground next to the thing’s head. His chest heaves as strong as the storm still swirling around them. “It’s not okay! He’s dead and I let them do it!”

Tony shakes his head though he knows Steve isn’t looking. “You didn’t let them do anything. I’m sorry I hurt you earlier. I was angry. But I can’t, in good conscience, be angry with you. It wasn’t your fault. You hear me? You did what you could. I know that. I would never truly believe anything else.” He reaches out with his good arm to touch Steve’s good shoulder.

As if sensing his proximity, Steve spins around and falls back to a sit before he can even make contact. “Don’t.” It comes out as a hiss, blue eyes dark in the dim light but sparking with anger.

Tony flinches back. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Steve this angry. Wonders if this is what Steve saw when he had flinched back from him earlier.

“You don’t know what happened! You weren’t there! How can you tell me it’s not my fault when you weren’t even there to see it?”

Tony’s soaked to the bone and starting to shiver. He would much rather have this conversation inside, but he knows they both need this. To clear this up. His anger is what caused this in the first place. Knowing Steve, he was already blaming himself. Having Tony lash out at him like he did… Pushing his guilt away and looking into Steve’s eyes, he puts as much conviction into his voice as he can. “Because, Steve.” His eyes sting hot with tears. “You loved him. Just as much as you love me. Just as much as I loved him and still love you. And I know that you’d do whatever you could to save either of us.”

“And what if that’s not enough?!” It comes out as a roar that almost makes Tony flinch back, but a second later every ounce of fight seems to seep away. Steve lets his head fall into his bruised and bloody hands. “I can’t… I’m not…” He lets out a low sob and looks up to Tony, begging for some sort of reassurance. His eyes stop on Tony’s arm. “I wasn’t strong enough again.”

Tony’s heart breaks at the tears flowing from his husband’s eyes. Even in the rain, he can see them run down his cheeks, mixing with the bloody smears from his hands. “We’re only people,” Tony murmurs, moving forward to kneel in front of him. Slowly. Gauging his reaction. He knows Steve would never hurt him on purpose, but he’s in distress right now. He’s not thinking clearly. Tony hit him earlier. If he’s not careful, Steve could easily react as if he were a threat. Minds aren’t rational when influenced by stress or pain. And Steve is struggling with a massive amount of pain. He softens his voice as much as he can while still being heard over the rain. “We may have the title of ‘Hero’, but Steve…” he offers a bitter smile, “You and I especially… enhanced or not, you know we can’t save everyone.” He can see Steve’s hands shaking now that he’s close. “I know this better than the idiotic way I acted earlier. I should never have gotten angry at you. I wouldn’t have known how to tell you either.”

Steve is still trying to calm himself, looking down and clenching his hands together when he sees Tony look to them. Tries to get them to stop shaking. “That doesn’t excuse anything.”

“Maybe not, but I’m willing to allow it.”

Steve shudders, holding in another sob. “I don’t know how to live with it,” he chokes out. “I don’t know if I can.”

Tony nods. His own tears are still sliding down his cheeks. “It hurts.” His voice trembles and he stops to gather himself. Takes a breath. “It hurts a lot. But we’ll figure it out. Okay? We…” he swallows sharply, his throat closing up with guilt again. “We have to do this together. I… I need you. I’m sorry about earlier. I’d like... Can we start over?” He meets Steve’s eyes when he looks up again. Reaches out to rest his good hand over Steve’s where they’re tangled together and still slightly trembling. The blood is getting washed away by the rain. "I was... overwhelmed and angry. I know that's no excuse but... Can you forgive me and let me make up for it? I will. For the rest of our lives." All he desperately wants is to be given the chance to finally step up. To give back the unconditional love and support Steve has been trying to offer since he got back. He's ready to stop being selfish, no matter how painful or scary it is. Steve deserves that much.

Steve hesitates only a second before opening his hands, turning one up and lacing his fingers with Tony’s. The world rights itself again. Face crumbling, he pulls on the hand with the slightest tug and lets out a shaking sob when Tony immediately allows him to pull him into his lap without fear. He knows he lost it a few seconds ago. Knows Tony has every right to be nervous when faced with such power. But Tony has never shown fear towards him. He’s overwhelmed with how grateful he is for that right this minute.

Not giving a damn about their audience, Tony straddles Steve’s waist and wraps his good arm around his shoulders. He cradles the head that moves down to rest in the curve of his neck, fingers running through the wet mess of hair. “Shhh. It’ll be okay.”

“How?” Steve chokes out against his throat. Buries more into it.

“We can support each other now,” Tony croaks, laying his head on top of Steve’s and letting his eyes fall closed. “You can start to forgive yourself and I can start understanding.” He shrugs. Saying what any therapist would by rote isn’t exactly as encouraging as they need, but it’s something.

Steve’s arms tighten around his waist. He appreciates the effort. “It won’t be that easy.”

Tony chuckles humorlessly. “I know. And we’ll probably yell a lot. Cry a lot. Lose sleep and force each other to talk even when we don't want to." He his eyes fall closed and his face crumbles in grateful sadness when Steve presses a soft kiss against his neck. He didn't expect to get such blatant shows of affection from Steve again so soon. "But we’ll do this together. Just like we always do.” He pulls gently on Steve’s hair, meeting his eyes when he lifts his head. “Let’s get inside, yeah?”

Steve nods, eyes only for Tony and how pale his face is. Eyeing the blood still covering his arm as he stands, he keeps Tony held at his waist with his good arm under his butt and the other around his back.

For once Tony doesn’t complain; only allows the slight humiliation in favor of letting Steve keep him close. Besides, his arm is starting to throb quite spectacularly and honestly… he’s feeling a little dizzy. The adrenaline rush is slowly fading, leaving behind the awful mix of blood loss and pain. “Don’t feel so good,” he mumbles.

Steve holds him tighter. “I know. I’m sorry. We’ll get that fixed up, okay? You can close your eyes if you want.”

Laying his head on Steve’s shoulder, Tony does.

Chapter Text

Steve finds Tony, Clint, and Sam all on their backs staring up at the stars. It was only thanks to Jarvis that he knew where to look at all. “Um…”

Tony perks up, head lifting just enough to turn and find Steve. “Hey! Come lay down with us.” He pats the space next to him and lays back down.

Steve judges them all for only a single second before shrugging and doing just that.

“We’re contemplating our existence,” Clint informs him sagely.

Steve stares up at the stars. The top of the tower is probably the most apt place to do so. The light pollution isn’t as strong up here. The stars are visible and the night is quiet. He knows Tony and Clint talk all the time up here but this is the first time he’s heard of Sam joining them. “And what is Sam contemplating?” he asks.

Sam’s heavy sigh reaches him. “Love.”

Steve hums. “A heavy subject as well.”

Tony chuckles, reaching over to take Steve’s hand in his. He grins to himself when Steve laces their fingers together. “Sam loves a man who’s taken,” he informs Steve.

Steve blinks. “Oof.”

“Indeed,” Sam answers.

“A woman who’s taken too,” Clint adds.

“Yikes.”

“Undoubtedly,” Sam agrees.

Steve jerks, head turning as much as it can towards Sam. “Wait.”

“Told you he’d know,” Tony mutters.

Sam sighs. “It’s a mess.”

Steve huffs a laugh, eyes going back to the sky. “I don’t think it needs to be,” he says after a moment.

Clint hums. “We were talking about that.”

“I was thinking about it,” Sam adds.

“They love you.” Steve knows that as a fact.

“I know.” Sam does too. “But… asking if there’s more meaning to that will change things. I’m not sure I want to do that. Not yet at least. It’s… scary.”

Steve hums in understanding.

The door to the roof sounds again.

“Oh. Is it ‘contemplate our existence’ time?” Peter’s face appears over their heads.

Steve sighs. “Tony, stop encouraging Peter to have an existential crisis at eighteen. He’s too young for that.”

Peter snorts as he lays down on Steve’s side between him and Clint. “It’s healthy to question what your purpose is. It can influence the way you decide a lot of things.”

Steve groans. “God, Tony. Where’d our child go?”

Tony only chuckles in answer, thumb sweeping over the back of Steve’s hand. Oh, how he loves them.

“Hey, kid.” Clint greets Peter as he lays next to him. “I’ve missed you.”

Peter immediately rolls over to hug him tightly, grinning to himself when Clint grunts at the force of his head landing on his chest. “I missed you too. You and Phil should move back in.”

Clint doesn’t tell him that they were thinking about it. He’ll let it be a surprise. They have some logistics to work through before doing so anyway.

Sam suddenly sighs.

Peter looks towards him. “Contemplating?”

“A lot of things,” he answers.

Peter rolls back off of Clint, rolling instead towards Steve when he reaches out to him. “Hey.”

Steve turns to give him a loving smile. “Hey.” He kisses his forehead before turning back to the sky.

“We’re all a mess,” Tony decides aloud.

Steve hums, chest warm with the love for his family. “Yeah. But at least we can be a mess together.”

Steve is unwilling to let go of Tony. As if afraid, as soon as he stops touching him, he’ll be back to being angry and push him away again. It’s ridiculous, seeing as how Tony isn’t even conscious, but Clint is still entrusted to stitch up the rips on Tony’s arm from the bite while Steve holds him close and still.

Very aware of Steve’s gaze on his work, Clint does his best to hurry while keeping them clean and precise. It’s a delicate process, the lines jagged from when he was dragged.

Thor nods when Rhodey comments on the roughness of the bite. “I didn’t move in because I didn’t want to chance making its teeth rip more. If hit, it probably still wouldn’t have let go and could have caused more damage dragging one of them around.”

Bucky nods, having been discussing that very thing with him while Steve had been talking to Tony’s back.

“It was a safe call,” Phil murmurs. “Though they were hurt, the damage may have been more if someone else were to cause it to go into a frenzy from pain.”

They have only one tense moment, Clint and Steve freezing when Tony opens his eyes once and makes a pained sound as Clint slides the needle through his skin. He’s out cold again within seconds, much to their relief.

Natasha wraps Steve’s arm and shoulder as Clint works, not bothering with stitching what has finally started to clot and will be healed enough to not need them soon enough. Contrary to Tony’s arm, the bite in Steve’s shoulder is fairly precise. The gashes down his arm from claws are straight and clean. Wrapping them tightly is enough to hold them closed as long as Steve doesn’t try anything strenuous. Once done, she wraps a towel over Steve’s shoulders and sits next to Bucky at his back. The two combined are enough to hold Steve up as he falls asleep with Tony still cradled in his arms, his own head resting on the back of Bucky’s towel-covered shoulder.

“You think they’ll be okay now?” The question comes from Sam where he and Phil are sitting in seats a small distance away.

Clint chuckles, wiping his hands down. “It’s Steve and Tony. They’ll be fine.” He sighs. “But I think we’re all going to feel this hole for a while.”

Rhodey nods from where he’s leaning against the wall. Babysitter for the youngest of the group when he was on leave from the army, he was always watching the boy.

Thor stands by the front windows, eyes on the storm still raging about. He only nods his head once, face impassive.

Bucky watches him. “You know it’s not your fault, right? We’ll keep saying it as many times as you need.”

Thor turns, slightly surprised. “I would not blame anyone for hating me because of the things that have happened.”

Bucky’s lips quirk. “That’s the good thing about us, big guy. None of us would ever blame you for something others have done. None of this was intended. Danger wasn’t part of your plan and definitely not something you could have predicted.”

“You’re as much of a victim as we are,” Clint murmurs, going to sit on Phil’s other side and lay his head on his shoulder.

Phil only sits there, fond eyes darting down to him with a soft smile on his face. He then looks to Thor too. “You’re family, Thor. We all trust you and know you’d never send us where we’d be hurt without it being an accident.”

“I am truly grateful to have you all as my family.” His voice is soft and reverent. He tries to smile. “Thank you.”

The storm rages on for a while, not finishing until after mid-day.

When light is finally making its way into the ship again Steve is still sitting with Tony in his arms and leaning back against the seats that Phil, Sam, and Clint have long vacated. He’s still on the floor, not having wanted to disturb Tony yet; sure that when he wakes up things are going to be a mess again. For now, he holds him close and breathes deep enough that he feels Tony’s weight against his chest with every breath. It grounds him. Reminds him that Tony is still here. That he didn’t lose him.

Sam comes to sit near him with a fresh meal for each of them. When he speaks, his voice is soft. As if he didn’t want to break whatever bubble Steve may have been hovering in. “You should eat. It’s been a long time since your last meal.”

Steve isn’t hungry, but he agrees. It would be hypocritical to refuse after pleading with Tony to take care of himself what feels like days ago now. “Thanks, Sam.” His hand closes around the outside of Sam’s in a gentle squeeze before it slides down to the container.

Sam gives him a small smile back. “It’s good to have you back,” he murmurs. He watches with gentle amusement as Steve balances the container on his free leg so that he doesn’t have to move the arm from around Tony’s shoulders. “No matter what he’s told you, he missed you too.”

Steve looks down at the man in his arms with a conflicted expression. “I know. I think that’s what’s made all of this so hard. To… understand what we’ve each had to go through and how much pain and anger it has caused…”

Sam nods. “The joys of relationships aren’t always enough to sustain them. The hardships are what make or break you. Are you willing to work through them or do you give up? Do you lean on the other or do you resent the other? It’s all about what you chose to do. Your decisions will determine the outcome.” He freezes in surprise when Bucky comes to plant himself at his side and reaches out to pull his face close enough to kiss his cheek. He chuckles at Steve’s raised eyebrow aimed towards Bucky. “I’m sure you and Tony will work through this.”

As if hearing his name, Tony rouses.

Steve continues to eat, nodding when Sam asks if he wants him to get him some food for Tony.

When Tony finally fully wakes, he doesn’t move for a while. Only stares at some undetermined point on the wall, hands clenching and unclenching in the bottom of Steve’s shirt. When he seemingly has himself together, his eyes dart over to Bucky. “Hey.”

Steve freezes.

Bucky smiles. “Hey, Tones.” He reaches out to take Steve’s now empty container just as Sam sits himself back down next to him.

Sam hands over the new one.

Steve takes it before Tony can move and offers it to him.

Tony doesn’t take it from him. Instead, he only takes the utensil and lets Steve continue holding it while he eats. His other hand stays firmly holding on to Steve’s shirt. Well… as firmly as his bitten arm can hold right now.

Steve feels his eyes prick with grateful tears. Though Tony hasn’t looked at him, he’s allowing Steve to have a literal hand in taking care of him. That’s enough for now.

Bucky nods towards Tony’s wrapped arm when he’s done with his food and Steve hands back the garbage. “You okay? Feeling any pain?”

Tony nods. “It’s throbbing.”

Steve’s arm tightens just a fraction around him.

Finally, Tony looks up at him. “I’m okay, Steve.”

Steve meets his eyes. Reads them. There isn’t any anger. No bitterness or suspicion. They’re warm. Open. For the first time in… forever. Steve is helpless against the urge to reach up and cup Tony’s face in his hand. His breath hitches when the other leans into it, eyes falling closed. God, he’s beautiful.

Clint comes over with pain pills and water after seeing the signed request from Bucky from the other side of the ship, sitting himself down next to him as Tony takes them with a grateful sound. He takes Tony’s hand when he reaches it out afterwards. “Hey.” He squeezes it.

Tony squeezes back. “Hey, buddy.” His gaze is soft. “It’s nice to see you back in one piece.”

Clint shrugs. “Mostly. A few more scars but no fewer limbs.” He grins.

Tony manages an answering smile. “Can I…” he hesitates.

“Anything,” Steve answers immediately.

Tony huffs once. A pitiful ghost of a laugh. “Can I get the story everyone else got the other night?”

Bucky gives him a sad smile. “Of course.” He paraphrases the story of their journey with Clint and a few odd comments from Steve, stopping before their last encounter with the monsters.

“We’ll leave the last bit for Steve,” Clint offers gently. “It seems you guys will have some talking to do.”

Tony nods, meeting each of their eyes. “Thank you.”

They both look down.

“I mean it. You did your best. I know that.” His next breath shakes. “I believe that. Truly.”

Clint reaches out for one last squeeze to Tony’s hand before he pushes himself up and retreats towards Phil on the other side of the ship. The others let him go, understanding his need for comfort from the other.

Bucky stands as Tony moves to do so, reaching out to stabilize him as Steve pushes himself to his feet as well. When Tony immediately moves in to hug him, he wraps his arms tightly around his shoulders. “Good to see you too, Tones.” Before Tony pulls away, he ducks down to murmur, “Please be good to him. He’s in pain.”

Tony nods as he steps back, aiming a reassuring smile up at him. “I will.” Turning to Steve, he holds out his good hand.

Steve stares at it for a moment.

Tony wiggles his fingers. “I don’t have all day, Steven.”

Steve’s hand darts out to grab it as if Tony will change his mind if he takes too long to do so.

With an exasperated sigh, Tony leads them to his room.

They sit down facing each other, hands clasped together, and go through the telling of the fight that took Peter from them. Steve chokes through his account, only pausing for Tony’s hurt sounds, flinches, and gentle questions. It’s painful. Excruciating. But they get through it. It’s a story. Not a time for vindication or a reassurance. There are no unnecessary words. It’s almost clinical with the only touching being between their two hands clenching and releasing and soothing. They just want to get it told so that they’re both on the same page.

When they’re done, they each take their own time to process the pain yet again, laying down on their backs to stare up at the ceiling with wet eyes and heavy hearts as if they were on the tower roof looking up at the stars.

It’s quiet for a long time afterwards.

“You don’t want to divorce me, do you?”

Tony blinks, sitting up with a start to stare down at Steve in shock. He has to shake off a bit of dizziness. He may still be a bit woozy from blood loss. “What?”

Steve doesn’t look up, turning to lean on his elbow and picking at the blanket. “You called me Rogers. You haven’t done that… since we got married.”

Tony has to really think hard to remember that, hating himself once again for how harsh he was to Steve in his own grief over their son when he remembers the words he had so angrily hissed. He hates himself a little more when Steve flinches at the touch to his face. Like he’s ready for another hit. No matter how unbreakable Steve is, he vows to himself right then to never again raise a hand to this man who obviously loves him and their son so much.

“I was angry,” he murmurs, leaning back down to duck low enough to get Steve to make eye contact. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry.” He slides the gentle hand along the curve of his cheek and cards back through his hair. “I’m so sorry.” Apologizing for everything now. Not just the words.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” comes the soft reply.

Tony shakes his head, hand sliding all the way around to pull him down and tuck his face into his neck. “No, honey. It wasn’t your fault.” He squeezes his eyes shut when he feels Steve’s arms go around him and cling to him. “It wasn’t your fault, Steve. I love you, so much. We’ll get through this together, because I couldn’t imagine losing you both like I thought I had until you got here. Okay? I… I can’t do that again. I may have shut myself off the best I could but… it still hurt. That’s why I couldn’t fight you. As much as I wanted to get rid of the reason for the pain, having you here just couldn’t compare.”

Steve nods, relief so strong he can’t speak. Just keeps his face pressed into Tony’s neck and breathes deep. Re-memorizes the smell. The electric tinged metal and oil smell that has always covered Tony’s unique scent will always translate as ‘home’ to him. “Love you.”

Tony runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, his eyes falling closed. “I love you too, babe. I really do. Missed you so much. I was cruel before, but… will you stay married to me?”

Steve chuckles softly, eyes watering as he remembers the night so long ago when he asked the same question. That situation wasn’t even nearly as bad as this, but the feeling is the same. “Always.”

Tony presses a kiss to his hair. “Rest now. I’ve got you. It’s my turn to watch over you. If you feel anything like I do, it must seem like we’ll never feel well-rested again.”

Steve is already lax in his arms, head sliding down a little more to rest on his shoulder. “M’kay.” It’s true. Since the crash it’s been one hit after another. He’s never been so exhausted for so long since getting the serum.

Without thought, Tony starts humming a song he hasn’t heard in a long while. The song that kept haunting him as he waited for Steve to return.

Seconds into the song, Steve recognizes it. “Beth?’

Tony smiles to himself. “Very good, sweetheart.”

“Wanted me home, huh?” Even though he sounds tired, Steve gets the words out. He wants Tony to know that he gets it.

“It’s usually the song I think of when one of us is away on a mission.” Tony turns to press his cheek to the top of Steve’s head.

Or when you’re in your lab all night, he thinks to himself a little smugly. “It’s perfect.”

“Does that make my bots ‘the boys’? Or the rest of our family?”

Steve lets out an amused huff, but his breaths are getting deeper.

Tony lets him fall asleep, picking up the humming and going through the song twice before he’s sure Steve is in a deep enough sleep to let himself close his eyes and follow.

***

It feels like seconds later that he wakes to a sharp cry, bolting up to see Steve turned away and clutching the pillow he’s rolled onto like a lifeline. With a frown, he leans over Steve’s back to put a hand to his arm. “Steve?”

Steve’s hand releases, then clenches again, letting out a sharp, “No!”

Tony frowns. Nightmare then. “Steve, baby, wake up. It’s okay.”

“Don’t… Don’t touch him!”

The pure vehemence in his voice makes Tony wary. It’s been a while since Tony has heard Steve talk so clearly while dreaming. He knows it means he’s going to have trouble figuring out what’s real as he wakes up. This is the only time he hates the Super-soldier serum. He doesn’t envy the way Steve’s brain remembers things with utter clarity. He knows it’s not a good idea to try to wake him up, but he can’t just let Steve’s mind torture him like that. Tensing up and readying to dodge flailing limbs, Tony runs his fingers through Steve’s hair and starts talking to him.

“Steve. Wake up. I’m here, babe. It’s Tony. You’re safe. You’re back on the ship with everyone now.”

Steve jerks back, knuckles turning white where they’re still clenching the pillow. “No! Don’t…” His breathing picks up and he lets out a hurt sound.

Tony frowns, not liking how hard it is to pull him out of it and the obvious distress he’s in. “Steve? Steve you need to wake up. You’re safe on the ship with your family. With me. It’s okay now. Steve!”

His eyes snap open.

Tony can’t see them, but he feels the warning in the way Steve’s shaking comes to a sudden stop. Before he can even process that, Steve has flipped over him and closes his hands around his throat. The snarl on Steve’s face is the partner to wild eyes and a feral growl that seems to emanate from his chest as he presses Tony into the floor.

Seeing the empty, unseeing look in Steve’s eyes keeps Tony from fighting back. Instead, his own hands come up to wrap around Steve’s wrists, feeling the solid hold they have on him before he moves them up and down in a soothing motion. “St-… eve.” As his vision darkens along the edges, he keeps his eyes locked on Steve’s. Tries to silently plead for him to recognize him. If anything, the fingers tighten, promising bruises that will last for days. Tony keeps his hands soft. As his vision starts to completely leave him, his good arm moves up to blindly run a finger along a sharp cheekbone in a couple soft, gentle sweeps. “B-… abe.”

His vision totally blacking out, he doesn’t see the way Steve’s eyes clear or the way his face totally transforms from an angry snarl to shock and horror. The breathed, “Tony!” goes unheard because of the ringing in his ears, but the releasing of the grip around his throat makes its way to his consciousness.

With a flash of light behind his eyes, blood and oxygen return to his brain and he lets out a long and high pitched gasp.

“Oh, god I’m sorry! Tony? Tony, breathe! Oh god I’m so sorry.”

Tony blindly presses his hand to Steve’s face as he gasps and coughs and waits for his vision to return. “I’m… okay.”

“You’re not okay! I could have killed you!”

Tony’s vision finally clears enough to let him see the tears in Steve’s eyes. He keeps himself from wincing as he swallows by sheer force of will. “I’m okay, Steve. I’m alright.” He pulls him into his arms.

Steve wraps his arms around him, letting out an agonized sound as he sees the darkening marks around Tony’s throat. “Maybe… maybe I should sleep somewhere else until these nightmares go away.”

Tony holds on tighter. “You’ll do no such thing.”

Steve winces at the rough sound of Tony’s voice. “I could seriously hurt you, Tony.” Steve turns his head in to kiss his neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know. It’s okay. We’ll work through this.” His voice gets thinner as he talks and he grimaces to himself. Steve is going to hate himself for this for a while.

“I haven’t hurt you since our first year,” Steve groans.

“And that’s what prompted our talk about doing whatever it took to not hurt each other, even in anger. Remember? Well I hit you in anger. This was your free shot. You’re welcome.”

Steve’s eyes fall closed and he lets out a huff of amused disbelief.

“You wanna talk about your dream?” Tony sits back to see his face. Runs one hand down his arm to take his hand.

Steve winces. “It was just… those monsters. And… you. If I failed again.”

Tony sighs with a frown. “It’s not about failing or succeeding, babe. You did what you-”

“It’s not enough!” Steve suddenly hisses, turning away. “He… after we crashed…” he takes a steadying breath.

Tony rubs his hand up his arm again, ready to listen for as long as it takes to hear about the last few weeks of his son’s life. “Take your time.”

“I was in bad shape,” Steve gets out a little ruefully. Squeezes Tony’s hand when it slides down to take his. “When we stopped for the first night of traveling, Peter…”

Tony slides up against Steve’s back and rests his chin on his shoulder to make a soft questioning sound.

Steve shakes his head, “I’ll never forget. It’s been haunting me since…” He takes a shuddering breath. “He said,” his voice cracks. He has to clear it before trying again. “He said he was scared.” Tears well up. “He was scared and was about to have an anxiety attack so I told him I wouldn’t let anything happen.” His tears escape now. “I told him we’d all be okay.”

Tony’s heart clenches. He gets it. Letting out a long sigh, he turns Steve and pulls him back into his arms. He swallows with difficulty and wills his voice to hold out. “Steve. Honey. Listen to me. Peter knew you were only human. A special human, just like him, but still human. He knew you weren’t all powerful. Just like I do. And just like me, he liked to believe it wasn’t true and to help you believe that also. That’s what made… makes us a family. We encourage each other and always believe that we can do the impossible. It’s what makes us a good team.”

“I should have been good enough,” Steve sobs, hands gripping the back of Tony’s shirt. “I’m his father.”

Tony holds him tight, his own eyes watering. “So am I. And you know what? I should have been there. I should have been there to stop it.”

Steve shakes his head, but doesn’t let go. “You couldn’t have been. You-”

“And you couldn’t have been all powerful,” Tony cuts in, seeing the opening to make his point. “It’s no one’s fault but those monsters. Okay? Otherwise, I could start pointing out that Clint and Bucky were there too.”

Steve sniffs. “They were hurt. Fighting their own attackers.”

“And so were you. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up about it. Okay? I don’t blame you. I promise. I was angry at first and I hurt you in the process and I’m sorry about that. But now you need to let it go.”

Steve sniffs again, sharply. Leans back to wipe his face dry. “I don’t know if I can.”

Tony reaches out to get a tear he missed. “Peter wouldn’t blame you. He’d never blame you for this. Take all the time you need. Talk to me. Okay?” His voice tapers off at the end, ending as almost more air than sound.

“Later. Just… I just want to hold you right now. And you need to stop talking. Your voice sounds awful.” He frowns, mouth thinning when his eyes take in Tony’s neck. “I’m going to get the med kit.”

Tony nods. He agrees. His throat is definitely swelling and could cause his breathing to be restricted if they don’t ice it.

Steve gets up and disappears for mere seconds to return with two of the ice packs. He cracks them, shakes them, and pulls a long sleeved shirt from his bag before sliding them into the sleeve. He gives Tony a shadow of a smile as he lays the sleeve around Tony’s neck, gently pressing the two packs on either side of his throat and makes a soft sound of dismay at the darkening marks. He shushes Tony when he goes to talk again. “No more talking. It’s getting worse. Let me know if you start to have trouble breathing.” He leans forward to kiss one mark that’s still getting darker before it’s fully covered. “I’m sorry.”

Tony pats Steve’s chest over his heart.

Steve lays them down, propping Tony’s head up with his arm so that the ice packs can comfortably rest in the curve of his neck.

Tony smiles a little and leans against Steve’s chest but it fades as he thinks about their son. About the entire future they’ve lost. Things will take a while to get to a new normal. He lets out a sigh and starts drifting almost immediately. Steve curling around him has always felt like the greatest protection, so it’s easy to let his cares float away. He knows Steve will listen to his breathing for the rest of the night. If it were to get worse, Steve would fix it.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?”

Steve turns, smile spreading across his face. “Peter!”

Tony turns too, rolling something in his hands. “Alright. First day of winter break means time to help with the cooking.”

Peter chuckles, walking over to rest his chin on Steve’s shoulder when he turns back to the counter. He takes in the two trays in front of them. “What are you making?”

“Peanut butter balls,” Tony answers with a grin.

“We’re almost done rolling them. Then all we have to do is dip them in the chocolate,” Steve adds.

Peter looks down at the tray of rolled-up peanut butter balls in front of Steve. Takes in the slightly varying sizes and the random order he’s dropped them in when done. Then looks at Tony’s, noting the perfect lines and almost identical sizes. “You guys are hilarious.”

Steve looks to him, eyebrow raised in question. “What?”

He nods to Steve’s tray. “Your tray says ‘America’ and ‘Freedom’.” He looks to Tony with a grin. “Yours says ‘Communism’.”

Tony feigns a gasp, hand coming up to press against his chest. “As if I could ever betray my country. I’m married to it!”

Steve sighs. “Will that line of jokes ever get old?”

Tony grins. “Not in this lifetime, honey bunch.”

“I used it as an excuse against my teacher,” Peter admits guiltily.

Steve looks to him. Then to Tony. “Tony, stop slipping your genes into Peter.”

Tony laughs, loud and full.

Peter rolls his eyes when he sees the adoring look Steve is watching Tony with. “So, what do you guys need help with?”

The three of them in the kitchen is a disaster. The cooking gets done, quickly moving from seasonal treats to what they decide to make for dinner tonight, but the mess spreads like wildfire. Bruce walks in towards dinner-time, taking one look at the kitchen before pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes with a sigh. “Is dinner going to be done soon?”

Steve looks around guiltily. “Uh. Yeah. We’ll have Jarvis let you know.”

Bruce only nods, turning and walking out.

Peter snickers.

Steve points at him. “Hey. You helped with this mess.”

“So you can help clean it!” Tony finishes with a grin, throwing a wet rag at Peter’s face.

The squawk Peter lets out is shrill.

The kitchen gets messier before it gets cleaner, but they still manage to finish before the food is done. As they wait for everyone to come to the kitchen to get their food, Peter throws an arm around each of their necks and pulls them close.

“I don’t want to leave for college,” he mumbles between them. “I don’t want to miss this next year.”

Steve and Tony have matching smiles of adoration as they turn towards Peter and each throw an arm around his back. It’s Tony who answers with a snort. "You don't turn down MIT, kid. Besides, you won't miss anything. You know I’ll fly you back here any time you want. Every break. Every three day weekend. Hell, tell me you have two hours off and I’ll show up to get lunch with you.”

Peter chuckles. “Of course you would.”

“Don’t ever feel like you need to pick between your family and your future,” Steve adds. “We’ll be with you every step of the way, no matter what.”

Peter squeezes one last time before letting go with a nod. “I know. Thanks, guys.” He steps back to meet their eyes. “For everything.”

Steve kisses the top of his head. “Love you, kid.”

Peter huffs, but returns it. “Love you too, dad.”

Tony kisses his forehead before turning to grab some plates as the rest of the family starts filing in. “Ditto.”

By the time they get home it will be early December. It’s hard not to think about what they were doing last year around that time and it’s even more devastating to think that Peter won’t be there against all of his previous hopes. Though, they couldn’t have ever imagined that instead of being busy with finals, Peter would have been taken from them permanently. That he wouldn’t be home to help with the holiday baking and the-

Tony cuts his thoughts off before they can incapacitate him again. He needs to finish this. With a steadying breath, he gets back to work.

Clint comes looking for him minutes later, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder as he goes past where he’s posted himself to keep watch and plants himself on the ground next to Tony. “You work too much. We just got here and you’re already working again. You should spend more time with your man. He’s still resting. You should be too.” Though it’s daytime, he has no doubt that all of them could still sleep for hours.

Tony doesn’t turn around, continuing with his work. “Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” he rasps.

Clint raises an eyebrow at his voice. He watches Tony try to fix the wires and attachments with a sharp eye, noting the slight shaking of usually steady hands. Tony has always had the world’s steadiest hands when it came to his work. Injuries have never stopped him from fixing things. Clint knows it’s more than the bite on his arm bothering him. “Do you ever sleep?”

Tony shrugs.

Clint frowns. “Why?”

Tony stops now, sighing. “Clint.”

“Hey. I know you can deflect like no one else, but haven’t I proven before that I’m a great listener? Huh?” He nudges Tony’s shoulder. “C’mon, roof buddy. Spill.”

Tony sighs. Twists extra wire between his fingers. “Nightmares.”

Clint nods. “I suspected as much.”

Tony nods back, not making a move to work again.

“What about?”

Tony cringes. “It used to be Steve crashing the ship. Peter being all alone. I… I never truly believed that Steve would survive. Now... it’s just Peter. What my mind has decided to cook up on what happened. Steve is having trouble too.” He moves the hood of his hoodie out of the way, shrugging as Clint hisses at the bruises that match Steve’s hands, now a dark blue and purple scarf around his neck. “Vivid dreams.”

Clint nods once, understanding the difference in his voice now. Doesn’t even ask how those bruises got there. He’s seen evidence of how violent Steve's dreams could be. “I know. It was rough after… Peter. If Steve slept at all on the way back, it wasn’t restful sleep.”

Tony goes back to work. “I can’t help him. So I’m doing what I can.”

“You should ask Bucky and Nat to stay in your room at night,” Clint murmurs, worry growing at the dark color of the bruises. Steve could have broken Tony’s neck. Should he be wearing a neck brace? They don't have one but... “They could keep an eye on things in case he-”

Tony turns to him. “The last thing I want is for Steve to feel even worse about the necklace he put around my neck. I trust him. Always have. It isn’t the first time he’s woken up scared or angry and it won’t be the last. I don’t ever want him to think I’m worried about what he might do or that I don’t trust him. Even if it’s not his fault. That serum makes his brain a lot sharper than any of us would like.”

Clint sighs. “I know. I just… I saw how he almost attacked Bucky before we got here. I don’t want you getting hurt if he can’t get over these nightmares.”

Tony’s hands drop to his lap, tangling together. He stares down at them. “Steve is mine to protect. Even if it sometimes hurts, I’m not going to stop being there for him. If it were abuse, that’d be different. But it’s not. So I’ll take the bruises and whatever else he dishes out before snapping out of it. Whatever it takes to be there when he needs me.”

Clint smiles a little. “Always so stubborn. You and Steve.”

Tony looks at him with a small grin. “That’s how we stay alive.”

He snorts. “Can’t argue with that I guess.”

Tony fiddles with his tools. “Did…” he pauses. Seems to think for a moment. Then shrugs. “Did Steve do okay? Before Peter, I mean.”

Clint understands perfectly. “He missed you.” He smiles a little when Tony nods and looks down to hide his own smile. “He missed you so much. He was missing a very important piece to himself while we were coming back. You guys were separated for too long.”

Tony chokes out a watery laugh at that. “Just a little.”

“Long enough for you to decide that loving someone was too painful?”

Tony bites his lip. “I was terrible to him, wasn’t I?”

Clint shakes his head, reaching out to wrap his arm around his shoulders. “Not completely. I think Steve took your anger as proof that you loved him so much you needed emotional walls to hold yourself together. And you gave him a challenge not unlike the first one way back in the beginning of your relationship.”

Tony chuckles a little. “Seems like.”

“And he chose to fight for you again.”

“Yeah. I guess he did.” He sniffs sharply. “What an idiot.”

Clint only chuckles, arm tightening around Tony’s shoulders for a second as he leans into the one-armed hug to rest his head against Tony’s for a while. He’s missed his brother too.

“I’ve missed this,” Tony murmurs softly.

Clint smiles to himself. “You read my mind, Tones.”

“Thank you. For coming back yourself. For helping them get back and fixing up Steve so many times.”

Clint hums. “It was… overwhelming, being in charge of keeping him in one piece. But his trust in me kept me from completely freaking out. I’m just glad I had the others there to help. Until that last fight, we were all in pretty decent shape.”

Tony nods. “That’s good. I’m glad.” He has to swallow another lump in his throat as he feels the weight of Peter’s loss again. If those monsters hadn’t taken him from them, Peter would have made it back in almost perfect shape. How odd, to think, that all of his fears could have been unfounded.

Clint presses his head just a bit tighter to Tony’s for a second. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel shitty about… Peter.” He has to clear his throat before continuing. Doesn’t think he’ll ever not have to pause before the name. “But… I did what I could. I promise.”

Tony reaches for the hand that’s not wrapped around his shoulders. Squeezes it tightly in his own as he rests their joined hands on his knee. “I know.” The breath he takes is a shuddering one. “Steve said… that you didn’t find anything?”

Clint’s eyes burn. “No.”

Minutes pass before Tony gets brave enough to ask, “Is there no way that…”

Clint knows what he’s asking. “It… it looked bad, Tones.” A tear escapes his wet eyes. “I didn’t see or hear a sign of him except for… that. We couldn’t even make ourselves leave the camp for another whole day after Steve was well enough to travel again. As if we thought he would just appear. But…” he shrugs, “he didn’t. We were still about… a week away I think. I lost track of time after that but I think it took us about six more days to get here. Even if he had somehow… I don’t think he'd be able to make it far.”

Tony grits his teeth against a new wave of pain. Days. After weeks of traveling, they were mere days away when Peter was taken.

“I’m sorry,” Clint murmurs again.

Tony chokes out an, “I know.” ‘It’s okay’ wouldn’t make Clint feel better. All Tony can do is offer him absolution. And a confession. “I don’t want to finish it.”

Clint frowns to himself. “Finish what?”

“The ship.”

Clint stares ahead. The mess of wires in front of them… isn’t much of a mess anymore. From what he can tell, Tony is almost done.

“If I had really wanted to, I could have finished this a week ago. But… I couldn’t. Even if I had given up on you guys ever making it back, it seems like hope is hard to truly push away. But you guys made it. And now… if I finish it…”

It will be real.

Peter will be gone.

Clint turns his body to fully pull Tony into his chest. Tears spring up and overflow before he even realizes it’s happening. But that’s okay. Because he can feel his shirt getting wet too.

Tony shudders, sobs, and clings to one of his best friends. “It still hurts.”

It comes out muffled and a bit garbled but Clint still understands. “I know, Tones. I know.”

Bucky comes over to sit close facing away from them. Still keeping watch, but offering his own form of comfort in solidarity.

Clint and Tony lean against his back in appreciation.

The trio stays that way for a long time.

“Take as long as you want to finish it,” Phil’s voice comes from the base of the stairs. Soft and gentle. “Well… as long as it takes for us to get to the last of our food.”

Tony huffs a dry laugh, leaning back and wiping his face. “No. It’s time to get us home. I’m not going to make us ration everything out even more because I’m not ready to accept the truth yet. I’m sure everyone back on Earth is wondering where we are.”

“If everything is a mess when I get back, heads are going to roll,” Phil mutters.

Clint lets out an interested sound. “Ooh you’re sexy when you get threatening.”

Tony and Bucky groan and shove Clint, making him cackle.

Phil only watches with fond eyes.

Steve comes out a little while later, taking his place at Tony’s side. “Hey.”

Tony turns, hand sliding behind Steve’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. “Hey, handsome. Feel better?”

Steve nods, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms out. “Much. You should have gotten more rest too. How long have you been out here?”

Tony shrugs. “A little while. Couldn’t sleep. Bucky and Clint kept me company though, no need to worry.”

Steve nods. “I know.” He turns to look at the aforementioned men where they’re now laying with Phil, Natasha, and Sam off in a patch of light. They’re all sprawled across each other, various limbs thrown over the bodies next to them. It’s quite the sight. Steve always feels a comforting warmth in his chest when he sees his team in a puppy pile. “It’s nice to have everyone within reach again.”

Tony nods, unable to keep from giving him another kiss. “Agreed.” He motions to his work. “I’m almost done.”

Steve leans over more and rests his head on Tony’s shoulder. He kisses the bruises on his neck. “That’s great, Tones. When do you think we should go through tests?”

“Sam helped me with the computer systems this morning. We should be able to do flight tests tomorrow. I’ll try to finish it all up tonight.”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice is soft now.

Tony has no doubt that Steve just realized what that means.

He doesn’t question him about it.

•••

It’s Natasha’s turn to watch later, the others having made their way inside to start heating dinners for everyone. When Tony had shown unwillingness to stop working just yet, she had posted herself mere feet from his back, facing the open field. It’s been silent since the others have left. Comfortable. Which is why it’s a surprise when she breaks the silence.

“Tony.”

“Hmmm.” He just needs to finish this. He’s almost done. It just needs to get done now so he can finally stop thinking about what it means.

“Tony!” She scrambles to her feet.

“What?” God, just let him finish before he loses it and starts pulling wires just to give himself more time.

Natasha reaches behind herself and yanks at Tony’s shirt without looking, dragging him back. “Look!”

Tony chokes at the pull, letting himself fall back and turns around in an attempt to get the collar to loosen up. The bruises are still really painful. He turns with a scowl, fully intending to yell at Natasha to be careful with his neck, but it barely takes a second for his eyes to settle on a figure walking up to the ship. He falls back to a sit then, mouth falling open and eyes widening in shock. His hand subconsciously moves up to press over his chest at the tight feeling that now chokes him more than any physical force.

The figure stops a few yards away, hands in the pockets of his ripped and blood spattered hoodie, with a hesitant quirk to his lips. His eyes are a little shiny. “Hey, Dad.”

Tony can only stare, eyes moving up and down his son’s body, taking in the sight and assessing for damage even as he struggles with the reality of it. His hand reaches out to curve around Natasha’s calf, needing something to ground him. “I’m not crazy, right Nat?” He chokes out the words with some difficulty.

Her own voice comes out strained. “No, Tony. You aren’t crazy. No more than usual.”

Peter’s small smile starts to fall when all Tony does is keep staring. “Dad?” He notices the bruises on his neck and his frown deepens. “Are you-”

“Get over here so I can touch you or I swear to god, Peter…” Tony scrambles to his feet, barely making it a few steps before Peter is slamming into his arms and clinging to him with strength that makes breathing difficult. He doesn’t care. He’ll learn how to live without air if he has to. He gives it all back as much as he can. One hand fists in the destroyed hoodie, the other presses on the back of Peter's head to keep him from pulling back all while tears start streaming down his face. His head can only repeat a mantra of Peter Peter Peter. When he finally pulls himself together, he realizes he’s saying it out loud.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m okay.” Peter lets himself be pushed the tiniest bit away, holding still while Tony’s hands cup his face and his eyes move over to look for damage. He smiles a little through the tears pouring down his own face. “I’m still healing up, but I’m okay now. That’s what took me so long to get here. I was… it was bad.” His voice trembles at the end.

Tony pulls him close again, kissing his temple and pressing his face into his shoulder. “I’m here now, buddy. You’re home. You’ll be okay.”

“W-what about…” Peter has to take a steadying breath before continuing. “Dad was hurt. He was bleeding so badly. Did he-”

Tony turns his head towards the ship, the “Steve!” he yells sounding slightly hysterical. “He’s okay,” Tony assures him once he turns back.

Peter’s tears increase at that, new sobs of relief escaping him.

Tony comforts him, pulling him close again and rocking him back and forth. He understands even more now, the state that Steve must have been in for Peter to have been taken. He really was that close to losing both of them.

“Tony!” Steve comes running out of the ship, leaping to the ground and jogging a few feet before freezing at the sight in front of him. Fully prepared for another strike of bad luck, the sight of Peter wrapped in Tony’s arms slams into him harder than any hit he’s ever taken in a fight. The air whooshes out of him as he falls to his knees.

Peter covers his mouth with his hand, trying to quell the broken sobs still escaping him at the sight of his other dad. The last time he saw Steve, blood was pooling on the ground around him, escaping between his fingers. Peter’s whole journey to the ship was plagued with fears of having lost one of his parents, if not both. Now, seeing Steve alive and focused solely on him, he finally settles. The lost look on Steve’s face gives him the strength to calm himself. Someone with such broad shoulders and strong arms should never look so lost. One of the things he’s always loved about his dads: he’s always felt safe.

He smiles at Steve, wiping his eyes. “Dad.”

Steve swallows tightly, blue eyes rimmed in red as they fill with tears. “P... Peter. How…?”

Tony lets Peter slip from his arms but keeps a hand in one of his as he moves, still unwilling to let him go yet.

Peter takes a couple steps but doesn’t move to go closer, unsure if he should push it or wait for him to right his world again. “I’ll tell you about it later. Okay? Just… I could really use a hug from you right now.” He wants to feel for himself that Steve is here. That he’s okay.

The choked sound that leaves Steve’s mouth is a mix between a laugh of relief and a sob. He scrambles to his feet, much like Tony did earlier, and bounds the last few feet to pull Peter into his arms. “I love you Peter. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Peter shakes his head, tears finally falling again as he buries his face in Steve’s neck. “Don’t say that. Stop. I thought you were going to die too. There was nothing-”

Steve pulls back, taking Peter’s face in his hands. “I’m your father. It’s my job to protect you. I should have-”

Peter leans back into Tony when he feels him step into their family hug, feeling safe for the first time since the attack. “There was nothing more you could have done. I got lucky. Another one came to try and take a piece of me but the one holding me let me go to fight it off. I was able to hide in the trees until they gave up looking for me. If anything, it’s my fault I wasn’t found. I heard Clint calling for me but I was already losing consciousness.”

Steve lets out a hiss through his teeth. “God, we left-”

Tony reaches around Peter to pull Steve in by the neck, kissing him over their son’s shoulder. “We can all stress about this forever. For now, let’s just enjoy being back together again, yeah?”

Peter smiles, not even moving away or grimacing at the display of affection. If there’s one thing he’s learned on this trip to hell, it’s that his fathers deserve to show their love however they want. On that line of thought, he reaches out and wraps an arm around each of their necks and turns into the cocoon they’ve made. He rests his head on Steve’s chest under his chin and feels Tony move into rest his head against his temple. He smiles to himself and stands still.

For a family that is always in constant motion, standing so still together for long periods of time is a rare thing. The three of them bask in the moment, desperate hands gripping shirts and arms. For a long moment they just breathe, feeling the rise and fall of their chests start to synchronize. For the first time in months, their family is together.

Peter sighs in content. “I love you guys. I just… I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.”

Steve kisses the top of his head. “We love you too, Peter. Adopting you was one of our better decisions. We’ve never regretted it.”

Peter smiles, looking over to Tony.

Tony runs a hand through his son’s hair, smirking at him. “Don’t look at me. He’s the mushy one. I’ll just say, ditto.” His hand cups Peter’s cheek, thumb brushing the wet streaks from under his eyes.

Peter laughs. “That’s always been fine with me.”

Chapter Text

Clint loses his shit.

“I left you there!”

Peter rolls his eyes from where he’s hanging around Clint’s neck, letting him go between crying and yelling as he’s been doing for the past few minutes. “You weren’t exactly running on all cylinders then, Clint.” He’s refused to let go until the man calms down enough to hear why his guilt is unfounded.

“I accepted that you were dead without the evidence of a body!”

Peter sighs. “Phil?”

Phil lets out a sigh of his own as he finally comes up behind Clint to pull him into his chest. “Clint. You saw the blood and assumed the worst. The trail ended there and you didn’t find any hint of him having been down any of the others. It’s completely believable that Peter’s life could have ended then.”

Peter nods, finally letting Clint go. Phil can handle him from here. “It was the right trail. You weren’t wrong. And it was only sheer luck that saved me.”

Bucky comes up to Peter now that he’s let go of Clint, pulling him into a tight hug. “What happened?” It comes out muffled in Peter’s shoulder, but everyone can understand it just fine.

Peter returns the hug just as tightly. “Another creature had come to get a piece of me. The one that was dragging me away let go to fight him off. Then more showed up and they tore each other up. Created that mess I’m sure Clint saw. Tore one of their own apart before running off with the pieces.” He shudders, appreciating the way Bucky’s arms tighten in reassurance before loosening to step back. “I barely managed to have the strength to make it up a tree.” He lets out a hum of content as he’s let go of Bucky and is immediately pulled into Natasha’s arms. “But I did. God, I missed you guys.”

“And we missed you,” she murmurs back, eyes wet and red. She kisses his cheek before letting him go as Sam and Rhodey move in for their hugs.

Each hug is long and strong with murmurs of relief and love.

When those two step back, only Thor remains.

Tony steps up to Peter’s side. “He’s been Mister Guilty ever since we crashed,” he murmurs to Peter.

Peter rolls his eyes. “As if any of this is your fault,” he grumbles as he moves towards Thor. He lets out a startled sound as he’s immediately pulled into a tight hug. He blinks, then chuckles. “Hey. I missed you too.”

“I’m glad you’ve made it back to us,” Thor rumbles quietly. “I could not bear to be the cause of your death. To be the cause of the loss of a son.”

Peter shakes his head, making Thor meet his eyes after he’s set back down. “Accidents happen. Plans don’t always go the way we thought they would. This whole thing was awful to all of us. But I wouldn’t blame you for it.”

Thor could argue. He still doesn’t feel as if he’ll ever make up for the things that have happened. But… with Peter back, the hopelessness recedes just a bit. “Thank you, Peter.”

Peter grins. “You’re welcome.”

Steve can’t stay away from his son anymore, arm sliding around his shoulders to pull him into his side again and tightens the hold just a bit into a hug. “How did you make it here?” he asks, pulling him to the seats nearby as everyone gets comfortable. The question is as much pain as it is curiosity. “You had nothing. No food. No supplies…”

Bucky lets out a sharp curse as Clint lets out a groan from where he’s practically folded into Phil’s side. “Oh God we took his stuff…”

Peter lets out a huff, grinning wryly. “I had nothing to lose. After finally healing enough to stay conscious, I was starving. Without anything to eat I wouldn’t have been able to make it here. So… I finally chanced eating some of these fruit things I found in the trees. Like… melons, kind of.”

“The melons saved him!” Sam cries, grinning.

“We’ve been using them to stretch our own food rations after Thor said they were safe,” Natasha informs Peter when she sees his surprised look.

“He gambled with his life, Steve,” Tony groans into Steve’s neck from where he’s seated on the man’s other side.

Steve looks down at the top of his head with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah. That doesn’t sound familiar at all.” His tone is dry.

Peter manages a small, tired laugh.

Every single person in the ship smiles in helpless response.

“After I felt like I could walk without passing out,” Peter continues softly, “I headed in the direction we were going before the attack. Kept finding signs of your camps. I slept in the trees to keep those monsters from finding me. It seemed like they were too busy following you anyway. Did they…”

Clint shakes his head. “Not until we got here. A storm came and they attacked Tony while he was out covering up where he was working out there.”

Peter’s head whips around, eyes landing on Tony’s neck and bandaged arm.

Tony reaches over Steve to take Peter’s hand before he can ask anything. “We’ll talk about me later. Let’s finish hearing about you.”

Peter sighs, squeezing the hand in his. “There isn’t much more to tell. Every day I got better and made it a little farther. I found a tiny cave in the side of a hill when that storm came the other day. I didn’t want to get wet while I couldn’t light a fire. I didn’t want those animals to find me.” He lists into Steve’s side. “I won’t say it was easy, but... I made it here.”

Tony notices Peter’s leaning, looking up at Steve, who nods.

“C’mon, buddy. Let’s get you cleaned up and laying down. I’m sure you’re exhausted. We’ll talk more about it later.”

Peter nods. He stands, going through one more round of hugs (decidedly more gentle than the last) before following his dads to their room. When they go inside, he blinks down at the nest of pillows and blankets on the floor and groans. “That looks so comfortable.”

Tony chuckles, taking the bucket of water Natasha appears at the door with. “You’re an angel,” he murmurs as he takes the small rag she gives him.

She winks. “I know.”

Tony huffs a laugh as he closes the door and turns back to Peter. “You’re gonna wash up a little first, pal. You’ll feel better when you’re a bit more clean.”

Peter hums in agreement, turning to gently go through the motions of pulling off his jacket. Now that the reunion is over, he feels the residual pain still throbbing through his wounds. He drops the ruined jacket on the ground, wincing at the looks his fathers are giving him. “Yeah. It wasn’t fun.” He’s glad he washed away most of the blood a few days before. It may have sent them into a panic.

Steve bites his lip as he steps forward, hands almost shaking as he reaches out to pull the practically useless shirt up. There are so many holes, he wonders if it was even any help in the cold nights. He freezes when Peter grunts in the process of raising his arms, opting out to rip the rest of the shirt apart and remove it that way. His eyes find the reason for Peter being unable to raise his arms easily, the bright red parabola of marks still a stark contrast to the pale skin of his shoulder. Steve’s mind won’t ever let him forget the way those jaws closed around his son’s shoulder and dragged him away. He blinks away tears at the sight.

Tony steps forward now, his own eyes shiny as they catalogue every pink line still showing on his son’s body and ending on the large jagged marks on his shoulder. He recognizes them. They aren’t too different from the ones on his own arm. He swallows sharply before clearing his throat. “No lying now. You tell me if anything hurts and you hold still until I move you.” He dips the rag into the bucket of water and squeezes the excess out.

Steve runs a hand through his son’s hair. “You heard the man.”

Peter lets his eyes fall closed and he revels in the comforting touch, holding still as he feels Tony clean up and down his arms, over his sides, and doesn’t even flinch when he goes to undo his jeans. Just steps out of them when Steve practically lifts him up with the arm around his waist and Tony pulls them away.

Tony hisses at a still festering cut right above Peter’s knee inside his thigh. He looks up from his kneeling position in question as he presses the rag against it gently. Dabs away a bit of the crusted blood.

“It’s kicking the infection out. I’ll be okay,” Peter murmurs. “It’s better than it was yesterday.” He’s leaning into Steve now, who’s practically holding him up as he falls prey to the exhaustion that hunted him every step here. Having to watch his own back doesn’t leave much room for real sleep.

Tony sighs, standing and turning to his duffel bag after tossing the rag into the bucket. “Remember when I said sometimes I hate that you’re Spider Man?”

Peter chuckles tiredly. He understands. There’s no other way he would have survived. “You take it back?”

“I take it back.” Tony returns with a pair of his own sweatpants. “These are the sweatpants that are a little long on me. They should fit your freakishly long legs that make me wonder if you really are related to Steve.” He kneels to help Peter step into them.

Steve chuckles from where he’s still supporting him at his side. “The way he always gets himself out of impossible situations makes me wonder if he’s not really related to you.”

Peter smiles, always having liked that he has traits of his two adopted parents. Right now, he’s just tired. He tugs a couple times at the bottom of Steve’s shirt, smiling when Steve immediately understands and pulls it over his head before helping Peter into it. Peter freezes when the shirt is pulled over his head, distracted from the comforting transfer of warmth by the bandages wrapped around Steve’s shoulder. It mirrors his own fading marks. His hand reaches up without thought, shaking as it touches them.

Steve gives him a gentle, reassuring smile. “I’m okay. It would have been a lot worse if it wasn’t for Tony.”

Peter turns to Tony then, eyes landing on the arm he raises to show the bandage wrapped around his own bite.

Tony nods. “That’s what this is from. but we’re okay.”

Steve nudges him towards the blankets. “C’mon. We’ll talk about everything later. You need to sleep.”

With a sigh, Peter moves over to the makeshift bed. He doesn’t have enough energy to argue. If they say they’re okay, he’ll take their word for it. The comfort of smelling both Steve and Tony so overwhelmingly moves him quickly and deeply into a sense of peace that he’s missed for what’s felt like years. He practically falls onto the pile of blankets with a huff. His mouth twitches in answer to Tony’s soft chuckle.

Steve doesn’t bother to pull on another shirt, only follows his two important men to their bed and helps Tony bracket Peter between them.

Even though Peter is nineteen years old, hasn’t slept in their bed since he was thirteen (getting over nightmares about a capture that honestly didn’t last longer than twenty hours with two angry Superdads searching for him), and thinks he should probably be embarrassed by how much he needs them here… he can’t bring himself to care. He relaxes into the warmth that surrounds him and finally lets himself rest.

Steve smiles over Peter’s head at his husband. “Love you.”

Tony smiles brightly back, his eyes a bit wet. “Love you.”

“L’ve you,” comes the barely distinguishable mutter between them

***

Peter sleeps long into the next day.

Tony and Steve take the hours they wait for him to wake up to rest with each other, both unable to leave the room without him.

Steve is leaning back against the wall with Tony pulled back against his chest between his legs when he finally speaks. “I keep expecting him to disappear,” he murmurs. Wraps his arms just the slightest bit tighter around Tony’s stomach.

Tony hums in agreement, a soft smile on his lips as he lays his head back against Steve’s shoulder and watches Peter sleep. “Me too.” He turns and leans back a bit to kiss Steve’s neck. A tiny show of affection. “I should be working on the ship but I don’t want to leave him.”

“It can wait,” Steve murmurs back. Presses his cheek against Tony’s forehead. Smiles at the feeling of the other’s nose playfully nudging the underside of his jaw.

Peter eventually wakes with a start, just as they all seem to do now. When his eyes land on the two tangled with each other next to him, they fill with tears.

The pair wordlessly separate and open their arms, welcoming Peter into a comforting hold that lasts minutes. They both understand the overwhelming relief at waking up with the previous day having not been a dream.

When the three all feel a bit less fragile, they eat before Tony offers to show them to the river they've been using to keep clean and keep watch while Peter finally takes some time to wash without having to look over his shoulder every few seconds.

“I feel like I haven’t been this relaxed in years,” Peter groans, floating on his back in the water.

Steve chuckles fondly, unable to keep from pulling Tony into his side as they sit on a rock nearby. It’s an incredible feeling, having his family all back together.

When Peter is done, they head back to the ship and get started on repairs again. Still unwilling to separate, Steve and Peter do what they can to help Tony as he finally starts putting the paneling back on the ship.

It’s not until Steve finally tears himself away to go get something for Tony from inside that Peter gets a chance to ask about the bruising on Tony’s neck. His voice is very gentle as he asks, “Are those from dad’s hands?” He doesn’t need to be more specific. He knows Tony understands by the way his shoulders immediately tighten.

Tony lets out his breath a second later. He’s not ashamed. He was just surprised by the question. Though, he shouldn’t be. Peter always liked making sure things were okay between the two of them. “Yeah. He had a nightmare the other night.” He offers his son a reassuring smile. “It’s not so bad anymore. Just really colorful.”

Peter presses his lips together, the worry not leaving eyes.

Tony smiles, reaching out to pull Peter closer from the back of his neck. He kisses his forehead. “It was an accident and I’m fine. We iced it. The bruises will fade.”

Peter relaxes a bit, trusting that Steve would have done whatever was needed to take care of it. There will be more time to catch up on things after they return home.

The flight checks go smoothly, Natasha and Sam going through each bit of data and making sure nothing comes up as a warning though neither expect anything anyway; Tony is the one fixing it, after all.

When everything is set, they all turn to Phil.

He blinks at them and raises an eyebrow. “What? You think I’m going to say, ‘Nah, let’s stay here’?”

Natasha grins, turning to Sam. “Let’s get them home, Sam.”

***

Returning home is… an experience.

Their absence was hidden by Pepper (bless her soul) for as long as possible, but it was impossible to keep everyone from noticing that Tony Stark and Steve Rogers weren’t appearing anywhere for more than a couple of months. What was cited as a mission quickly became questionable when months passed and no new news was heard. If it wasn’t for both Pepper and Phil’s terrifyingly perfect chemistry when dealing with the media, their homecoming could have been a lot more hectic and invasive. They were able to field people away with words such as “deep cover” and “top secret”. Repeated questions were soon given up when the answers they received every time were the same and completely uninformative.

In the tower, things aren’t so easily explained away.

Telling everyone what happened is… painful. Wounds are still raw. Relationships are still vibrating with tensions, whether it be from the desperation to keep the others close or residual pains from arguments. The perceived loss of Peter is still a ghostly weight to those who were there and a shock to those that weren’t who are told about it. It’s obvious that Bucky, Clint, and Steve won’t be able to shed the guilt for some time.

Bucky, Natasha, and Sam reveal their new relationship. Or… the first few tentative steps towards one. Things seem to click for them, settling into a new normal that… isn’t really all that different from how it was before.

No one is surprised.

It’s a good week before things start to level out in the tower. In that time, Tony, Steve, and Peter sit down and talk about their own experience over those months apart. Steve and Peter fill Tony in on what he missed during their traveling and Peter tells them of his solo journey to the ship. Then Steve and Tony confess their struggles in reuniting. Though it’s hard admitting to their son that things almost fell apart, they talk through and explain (to Peter and each other) the thoughts and emotions that ultimately led to them reconciling. There are a lot of tears. And a few angry shouts. Mostly from Peter.

“I can’t believe you two are such idiots!”

Steve and Tony accept the criticism.

It’s worth it just to have Peter back with them.

It’s about a month before everything settles almost to how it was before their time away. Though everyone seems to still reach out to touch a bit more often, they don’t do so every time they enter or leave a room anymore. Once Phil and Clint move back in, the last bit of anxiety seems to melt away. The tower seems a bit more complete and the communication doesn’t seem as strained.

But… it will still be some time before the nightmares leave them alone.

***

Steve wakes up to a quiet sound, still unable to make his subconscious understand that they’re home now. That they’re safe. His eyes immediately find the door to their room as a reflex. He tenses for just a second when he sees it open, but relaxes when he identifies the silhouette in the doorway and pushes himself up onto his elbow. “Peter?”

Tony mumbles softly as he wakes up, lifting his head though his eyes barely try to open. “Wazzit?”

Peter comes inside, closing the door behind him. As he comes closer, Steve’s enhanced eyes can make out the trembling in his shoulders. “I… I was back there. In the forest by myself.” He takes a shuddering breath.

Steve immediately understands. His own nightmares often leave him shivering and unable to get warm without another body staying close. Though he’s sad that he and Peter have that in common now, he’s glad he knows exactly how to help. He moves away from Tony with a soft run of fingers through his hair. “Move over, love.”

Tony shuffles over, arm lifting in invitation as Steve turns down the covers. “Come here, bud.” His eyes still haven’t even opened.

Despite the fear still festering in his heart, Peter can’t help but smile at that as he crawls over Steve into the space they’ve created for him. He settles down between them, feeling himself finally relax when the warmth washes over his pebbled skin, having been unable to get warm after the dream of his cold, lonely, terrifying stay in the forest. “Thanks,” he mumbles into Tony’s chest. It’s a mix of gratitude for them letting him intrude, but also for their understanding. He knew they wouldn’t make fun of him, but...

Tony’s hand rests on the back of his neck. “Love you, kid.” He presses his face into his son’s hair.

Steve smiles fondly down at them before settling down behind Peter with a content sigh. “Love you both more.”

Peter snorts softly, already feeling safe enough to fall back to sleep. “Fat chance.”

Tony chuckles, fingers scratching the back of his neck softly. “Don’t fight him," he mumbles. "He never gives up.”

“Never,” Steve murmurs, voice low and fond and full of too many emotions to name. It blankets the other two with a comforting warmth of love and safety.

They’re quiet then, all falling asleep in the same moment.