Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1 - Nothing to see here

Tony

This day couldn’t get any worse. For starters, I was running, which always sucked. Secondly, I had been dragged out of my workshop this morning, to deal with a trivial invasion of some kind in Manhattan.

And thirdly, Natasha’s voice is filling my head with stupid things I already know.

“Remember, Stark, the priority is to discover what the hell we’re fighting.”

My arm extends to blast a creature charging straight for me; it gives a very human cry and tumbles to the pavement of New York. Curious, I step closer, lasers at the ready.

The creature has the head and torso of a woman, with beautiful cheekbones and hair that almost rivalled Pepper’s. ( Almost.)
Its legs, however, were a whole different kind of wrong. Instead of, you know, skin, this thing had one bronze leg and one goat leg.

“Uh, Nat. I think we’re dealing with some sort of alien. Either that, or this girl is having a really bad hair day,”

Cap cuts in over the comms. “ Make your way downtown, everyone. It looks like there’s a hoard of them.”

“ I mean, not the first time we’ve been mobbed by hordes of fangirls.”

My amazing joke is met by dead silence. These people really need to find a sense of humour.

****

I touch down on the outside of a swarm of the alien-thingys, blasting any donkey girls that get close, which is unsurprisingly few, due to the Nat standing to my side and obliterating everything that moves. From one of the nearby rooftops, Birdma-I mean Hawkeye, sends waves of arrows into the fray, and I keep having to duck because Bucky is firing his stupid machine gun over my head. At least the mob of aliens seems to be thinning out. Rather quickly, actually.

Wait a minute; call me spiderman, but I sense that something is wrong. The mob almost seems to be getting destroyed from the inside out.

“ Something’s in the middle of the hoard, attacking them from there.”

“ Or someone.” I can almost hear Steve frown dramatically over the comms.

“ See anything, Barton?” Natasha asks, booting a donkey-girl in the chest, sending it flying into another.

“ Nothing yet…Gimme a sec…Wait, what?! Clint’s voice screams into our eardrums, causing everyone to stop and wince.

“ Clint! You with us?”

“ You need to see this.”

I blast the alien in front of me, revealing the middle of the hoard. There’s a sort of ring of aliens, all throwing knives and hissing at someone in the center. A laugh escapes my mouth. Standing back to back, fighting off these aliens better than the avengers, are two teenage boys.

Nico

I feel Will’s arm draw towards me, holding an arrow taught with his bow. An Empousa comes charging at us, screaming something about draining us of our blood, and I breath out as an arrow is loosed into her shoulder, the vibrations from the string running through my body. I press my back against Will, swinging my sword and sending three Empousai returning to Tartarus. The others hiss and recoil at the sight of the Stygian Iron.

“ You don’t want to do this, Nico. Let’s just talk about it.” One of the monsters whispers, batting her eyelashes.

“ You seem lovely, honey, but I’m gay.”

I smash the hilt of my sword into her head, sending her crumpling to the ground.

“ And taken.” Will calls, my heart melting at his adorable southern accent.

An Empousa lunges for Will, raking her fingernails/claws down his arm, leaving three angry red scratches. Oh No, you don’t. I twist around to face her, and let the shadows wrap around that stupid goat leg. That doesn’t seem enough though, so I open a crack in the ground, watching as six or seven of them tumble down into the underworld.

And with that, me and Will are left standing amongst the heaped bodies of the monsters, weapons dripping with blood.

“ I feel really bad, Nico. I wish-” Will’s voice cuts off, as I realise he is facing me, eyes wide with fear and shock.

“ Neeks, oh gods!”

I follow Will’s gaze down to my side. Hot blood is pouring down my leg, flowing from a bright red gash on my hip. For some reason, I don’t feel any pain, just warmth. I didn’t even feel the knife go in. My head spins, my knees buckling. I stare down at the large amount of crimson staining my hands. Huh. I didn’t know I had this much blood in me. Darkness starts to creep in my peripheral, like ants are scurrying over my eyelids. I clumsily try to wipe the ants away.

Then Will’s obnoxiously bright blonde hair is in my face, panic written all over his lips as he tries to say something to me. I can’t hear him over the sound of my pulse in my neck. Why is he so worried about me? I’ll be fine, like always. It doesn’t even hurt.

The last thing I manage to see is Will frantically waving over a woman with deep auburn hair and a man holding a stupidly colourful shield.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------—

Chapter Text

STEVE'S POV

I feel like I’ve missed something here. Natasha and I are running towards two teenage boys covered in blood, looking for all the world like they just stepped out of a horror movie. I glance at the assassin next to me, letting her be to one to assess if we have more enemies on our hands. Panic rushes through my veins as we get closer; I realise that one of the kids is down, most likely stabbed by an alien-thingy.

The other boy looks up, his blonde hair not able to block the look of terror plastered on his face.

“Help! Please, we need help!”

The kid’s screaming is the final straw. I rush for them, skidding to my knees and searching for the medical equipment that I should probably start carrying around now. Natasha throws some bandages at me, grimacing at the boy’s wound.

“That’s all we have? We’re the most powerful superheroes in the world and we have a couple of bandages to save a kid’s life?!”
“Well, I didn’t really expect for someone to try and die on us today!” Natasha snaps, glaring angry daggers at the kid like it’s his fault for getting stabbed.

“Move over.” The blonde boy shoves past me, grabbing the bandages out of my hand. “We need to put pressure on the wound. Is there a hospital nearby?”

I glance at him, confused. “Don’t you live here?”

“I’m from Texas, just tell me where I can take him!”

Most of the others have made it here by now, standing awkwardly around us.

There's no way this kid is going to make it to a hospital. Blood pours from his side onto the cold concrete.I don't let myself think about the consequences of what I'm about to do. “Tony, bring over the Quinjet.”

“You wanna take them with us?”

“Just do it.”

A few painful moments later, I hear the Quinjet touch down next to the group, flying from where we left it parked in the streets.

“We’ll get them to Banner.”

Natasha nods and starts muttering into her earpiece.

The blonde boy looks up, the adrenaline not yet faded from his expression.

“Where do you think you’re taking us?”

That kid is tough, but tough's not what I need right now if we're going to save his friend.

“Somewhere safe. It has a hospital.”

His eyes dart from his friend lying in his arms, to us.

“Fine. Help me carry him.”

****

I watch as the blonde kid grips the hand of the other boy, his fingers shaking. He’d spent the last five minutes rushing around his friend, trying to get him stable with the limited first aid supplies this ship has. Now, the toll of the battle seemed to be catching up with him, his eyes drooping slightly, like they wanted to close. Brave kid, and pretty young too, by the looks of it.

I need to stop calling him the blonde kid.

“ What’s your name?”

His head snaps up. “ Will, and that’s Nico.”

Nat raises an eyebrow. “ Just Will?”

Will narrows his eyes. “ I was always told not to give my full name to strangers.”

Smart kid.

The assassin locks her sight on him. “ Why were you fighting those aliens? Who taught you how to shoot?”

“ Aliens? Θνητοί…” The boy trails off in a language I don’t understand, and judging by the look on Nat’s face, she doesn’t either.

“ Answer the question, please.”

“ - Nat,” Clint interrupts. “ His friend has been stabbed, maybe we could lay off the interrogations for a bit?”

“ Let’s just get back to the compound, then we’ll talk.” I say, glancing at Will. He turned his attention back to Nico, muttering what’s probably medical terms. His eyes look tireder than before, like he really might fall asleep where he stands.

“ How much longer to the compound, Stark?”

“ About five seconds. Get ready to face the wrath of Nick Fury.”

****

WILL'S POV

Our footsteps echo on the hard polished floor, turning the heads of every agent and secretary in the building. I keep my eyes focused on Nico, who is been carried bridal-style by ‘Captain America’, as he calls himself. I suppose I should know who he is, being American and all, but I didn’t have much time for the news back in Texas, and Demi-gods and technology don't exactly mix well.

It’s times like these that I wish I was a normal child, at home with my parents and fangirling over my latest celebrity crush. Instead, I was inside the Avenger's compound, on my way to an interrogation/doctors trip with my boyfriend unconscious and bleeding out. I glance at Nico again. A normal life would've been great, but... If a normal life meant not knowing Neeks, it wouldn’t be worth anything to me.

“Through here.” The guy with the metal suit directs, waving us through several doorways.

As we step closer to the final door, a robotic yet very British voice calls out from nowhere.

“ Voice verification required.”

I try not to look supirsed, though I nearly jumped out of my skin. The guy with the suit chuckles, striding across the threshold.

“ I am...Ironman.”

“Acess granted. Welcome back, Sir. Shall I alert Director Fury of your return?”

‘Ironman’ winces. “I’m sure he already knows.”

Next, Captain America walks through, rolling his eyes at Ironman.

“Capsicle.”

Ironman grins, seemingly savouring the moment. “Oh, and that’s Nico, by the way.”

Sir, Nico seems to be in critical condition. Would you like me to let Dr. Banner know to set up a room in the hospital wing?”

“You do that, JARVIS.”

The red-haired woman goes next, glaring daggers at Ironman the whole way.

“Mama-spider.” She says, somewhat proudly.

“ Hawkeye.”

Acess denied.

“ HAWKEYE.”

Acess denied.

The archer sighs. “Birdman.”

The man with the awesome metal arm walks across. His expression his confused, like this technology doesn’t make much sense to him. You and me both, bud.

“Sergant James Buchanan Barnes.” He recites the title, almost automatically.

"Mr. Stark would like me to inform you that ‘Bucket’ is also recognised by our system."

Lastly, Captain America gestures for me to go through. I nod, hoping my nervousness doesn’t show. Like I’m going to let a robot voice get in between me and Nico.

“JARVIS, this is Will. Say your name, Kid.”

I clear my throat awkwardly.

“ Will.”

“Alright, let’s move it. Banner should be waiting for us.”

****

I follow the Avengers into a largish white operating room, with one of those wheelie beds sitting in center, surrounded by a state of the art X-ray machine, CT scanner, and pretty much any other medical equipment you could dream of. It was much nicer than any other hospital that I’ve ever been to, and it surprised me that I wasn’t more interested in the fancy machines. I guess I’m not myself when Nico is hurt.

A middle-aged man with greying curls sped-walks into the room, gesturing for the Captain to set Nico down on the bed. If he seemed surprised to see a teenager in his hospital, he didn’t show it.

The man, who I presumed was Dr. Banner, didn’t pull his gaze from his new patient.

“JARVIS, give me the rundown.”

“Our patient has suffered from a major stab wound just above his left hip, most likely caused by a large dagger or similar style weapon. The chances of internal bleeding are moderate to low. I would recommend watching out for blood poisoning, since the patient shows signs of a weaker immune system due to malnutrition and high levels of physical exhaustion.”

Oh gods, Nico. Please be okay.

Dr. Banner starts unwrapping the hasty bandages I put on the wound. He nods in approval, looking up at the rest of us for the first time.

“ Who wrapped this?”

C’mon Dad, don’t fail me now. “Uh, that was me.”

“ Well done, umm…” He trails off awkwardly, looking at me.

“ Will, Doctor.”

“ You’d make a fine Doc when you get older, Will.”

He turns back to Nico, then abruptly twists to stare at me again.

“Hang on, you aren’t an Avenger.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m Nico’s b-”

“We found these two during the fight in Manhattan. They took out half the aliens for us.”

I try desperately not to laugh. Aliens. Oh, these mortals have no clue, do they?

A Machine beeps, and Dr. Banner frowns.

"It’ll take me a couple of hours to get him properly stable, and another few on top of that for him to wake up. A stab wound like that causes a lot of blood loss, but is pretty simple to fix. You did good bringing him in.”

The woman with red hair nods. “That’s our cue to leave.”
Wait, I’m not leaving Nico, am I?

“But -”

“No buts, kid. Banner’s a better Doctor than a blood-covered teenager. Let’s go.”

The woman puts a hand on my shoulder, leading me out of the room.

Remind me not to get on Mama Spider’s bad side.

****
Hot water runs down my face, washing the remains of the Empousa blood down the drain. I step out of the shower, and slip on the change of clothes kindly donated by the archer guy. He was the one who suggested I take a shower, and let me use the guest bathroom on his floor. Apparently he has a son my age. I wonder if he regrets being out here, battling in New York, rather than at home with his kids.

My father wouldn’t. He probably doesn’t even know I exist - hell, he could have forgotten right after claiming me.

With that wonderful thought, I slowly make my way down the endless hallways of this complex, trying to find someone who can tell me if Nico is alright.

I make it about one floor before I round a corner and run into a African-American man, with a super cool eyepatch. Like a pirate. Nico would love that.

Did he actually lose an eye, or is it just a bizarre but awesome fashion statement?

“You’re Will?”

“Yes…Sir?”

“Come with me. I want to ask you a few questions.”

Cause a conversation that starts like that is always great.

Chapter Text

NICK FURY'S POV

I bring the kid to one of our many integration rooms, feeling my nerves vanish as I lock the door with a click. I don’t really think this teenager is going to try and make a run for it, but I didn’t get where I am today by making assumptions.

Especially about kids who have just washed the literal blood off their hands.

Plus, it makes for a better atmosphere. Although, judging by his worried face, getting this kid talking will be no problem at all.

“So, Will. First of all, I’ll be needing your basic information so we can call your parents if this all goes smoothly.”

I watch his face carefully, making a mental note of the way he winces slightly at the word ‘parents’. Could this be another Red Room situation? Or is that jumping to conclusions?

“I don’t live with my parents, so that won’t be necessary.”

This kid is definitely hiding something.

I glare at him. “ I wasn’t aware that I asked if you thought it was necessary.”

His hands are shaking a little, but he folds them under his arms, refusing to break my gaze.

“Look, Will. You want to help your friend, I get that. Dr. Banner is currently saving his life. You are going to have to give me something to work with.”

The kid releases a breath of air, almost resignedly. I could see the worry in his eyes for his friend.

“My name is Will Solace, and you call my parent’s all you want, but they’re not going to answer.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And why would that be?”

He deflates a little, hunching his shoulders. “My father isn’t around, and my mother is a musician on tour. I’m staying at a summer camp on Long island.”

That wasn’t so hard, was it? If only all interrogations could be like this.

“What do you know about the creatures that you and the Avengers were fighting?”

Will shrugs. “They called them aliens, I guess. I don’t know much else, only that they can pack quite a punch.”

This kid is a very good liar.

“And why were you fighting them?”

“Because they attacked us.”

“Where did you learn to shoot?”

“Your scary redhead already asked me that.”

Okay, now he’s annoying me. “Do I look like I have red hair? Answer again.”

“My brother. His name was Micheal.” His eyes drift down to the table, going slightly glassy.

I’ll search the database for any Micheal’s that have died in the past few years. That should give us a solid lead into this kid’s skills.

“What about your friend; where did he learn to fight?”

Will winces again, as if this is a sore subject for him. That, or he’s about to attempt a very difficult lie.

“He picked it up in some…unsavoury places.”

“Unsavoury?” Who the hell says that anymore?

“The labyrinth that is the back streets of Manhattan,” He grimaces.

“You two seem like good friends.” A statement, not a question.

Will’s eyes widen slightly, and he immediately rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

That was meant to be an easy finishing question, but now I’m more suspicious than ever. What are these two teenagers hiding?

****

Nico’s POV

My eyes flutter open, and immediately shut again as I wince at the bright light. Will… The day’s events come back to me in a rush of adrenaline.

Where the hell am I?

I take a deep breath and open my eyes once more, this time actually looking around my surroundings. I appear to be in a small white room, lying on a wheelie-bed-thingy. The room is probably some kind of hospital recovery area, but more cosy than your average run-of-the-mill hospital. It almost reminds me of the Apollo cabin, just without the cute but very loud little Demigods.

Okay, think Nico. What was the last thing you remember? The answer comes to me, sending a pang of worry through my chest. Will’s panicked face staring down at me, screaming at some blurry figures for help.

There was a man with a shield.

A shield that seems all to familiar.

It can’t be.

He should be long dead.

Captain America?

That name… It’s like it broke down a barrier in my mind, returning some long-forgotten memory that the river Lethe stole from me.

****

Everywhere me and Bianca go, posters stare at us. When our Mama takes us to a restaurant, when we walk to the library or the park, even our weekly Gelato trip is interrupted by faces of scary guys holding guns, calling out for men to join the army.

Bianca was taking me to watch a film that had just come out, called The Wizard of Oz. We were sitting in the theatre. Bianca told me a joke that made me fall off my seat laughing,

Then, the newsreel began to play. An Italian voice echoed off the screen, talking about the only thing that seemed to be on people’s minds these days: The war.

“ Although the might of Italy and Germany is soon to come down upon the allied forces, there is one man responsible for the deaths of many good soldiers; Captain America.”

The screen showed pictures of a muscular man in a striped suit, glaring at the camera like he was plotting the death of everyone in the theatre. I sunk down into my seat, grabbing my sister’s hand.

“ Captain America is unpredictable, a hurricane of violence making its way through the battlefields. If there is one man that represents the evil of the allies, it is him.”

Footage of battles started playing across the screen, gunfire booming through the speakers. Men in Italian uniforms fall to the ground, screaming. In the middle of it all, stands a young man in the American colours, grasping a round metal shield.

I watch as the shield slams into a boy’s head, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Bianca puts her arm around me, whispering for me to close my eyes.

“ Captain America is a danger to us all.”

****

The door creaks open, and I bolt upright, gasping.

“ Woah, you’re okay.” A man with greying curls walks in, his hands up in the universal symbol for surrender.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He says, smiling hesitantly.

“ Who are you?” Where am I?

“ My name is Dr. Banner, I’m here to help you.”

Dr. Banner makes his beside my bed, reaching to check some wires that I didn’t notice were attached to my hands. He must have spotted my confused expression, because he turned to me with a soothing face.

“ You’re inside the Avengers compound, upstate New York. You were fighting some weird aliens and got stabbed.”

Stabbed. Right. That’s probably why my side feels like I’m on fire.

“ Will - the boy I was with - is he okay? Where is he?” Will’s panicked face once again fills my mind.

“ Oh, he’s fine. Been bothering me for the past hour, waiting for you to wake up. He seemed to care about you quite a lot.”

Relief floods through me. Will is alive.

Crap. I got stabbed. Will’s going to kill me.

****

Natasha’s POV

I’ve just sat down. My body has barely brushed the couch cushions, and Fury is already calling for a meeting. Where’s an assassin got to go to get a break around here?

“ The Director would like to see The Avengers now, Agent Romanoff.”

“ I’m sure the Director can wait a few more minutes.”

I slump back onto the couch, taking a deep breath. Today has been mentally and physically exhausting. First, Red Room nightmares plague me all night, then I have to fight aliens all morning. And to top it off, two teenagers are causing a lot of paperwork between me and Fury. He wants to know who these kids are, where they come from, and their mother’s godam maiden names before breakfast tomorrow.

The meeting is long.

And boring.

As predicted.

“ Agent Romanoff, are you even listening?” Fury calls, glaring at me from across the table.

Stark grins like we’re in primary school and I was just called to the Principal's office.

“ Yeah, Nat, were you even listening?”

“ Shut it, Stark, unless you want your pointer finger dislocated.”

His smile instantly drops, and he grabs his hand protectively.

“ You wouldn’t.”

“ Oh, I would.”

Fury shifts his glare to both of us.

“ I didn’t realise I invited two school children to this meeting. Now, if we’re ready to behave like adults, Captain Rogers was just about to ask a question.”

Steve nods. “ With all due respect, Director, you can’t be suggesting we imprison Will and Nico - they’ve done nothing wrong!”

“ I beg to differ, Captain. They’re cleary dangerous, and -”

“ - And are capable of fighting,” I interrupt. “They obviously know something about these aliens, so I say we keep them around. As guests, not as prisoners.”

“ I second that.” We all glance across the room to where Vision is sitting/floating on his chair, a thoughtful look on his face.

“ That’s two votes. Who else agrees?”

Wanda furrows her brow. “ If these aliens are planning on bringing more trouble, we could need Will and Nico. I third that motion.”

Slowly, one by one, the Avengers give their votes. In the end, everyone but Clint had rallied against Fury.

The archer was sitting off to the side, seemingly content not to speak. That was, until, the discussion had died down from raised voices to calm argument. Then, Clint turned to glare at all of us.

“ I vote we find their parents and send them home.”

Fury frowns. “ Excuse me?”

Clint's gaze hardens, reaching a level that only a parent’s can.

“ These are kids we’re talking about putting in danger, not some mutant warrior, not some trained assassin. Teenage boys. I have a teenage boy at home, Cooper, and I mean it when I say I’d rather become a stone-cold killer than let anything bad happen to him. I would never put my kids in a fight, let alone use them like a, a weapon for you to store away in case you find a need for their power.”

He turns to look each of us in the eye, one at a time. Wanda is the first to break contact, glancing bashfully at her lap. Tony is next, followed by Sam.

Steve glares back at him.

“I was barely older than they are when I joined the army. They have the skills to fight, and if they want to help, they should.”

“So if you have the ability to fight, does that mean you should be put in danger? They are kids, Steve. Kids. Young men may have given up their lives in service of this country before, but it doesn’t mean that we should cause more blood to be spilled on our soil. If I could protect all those boys from the horror of war, I would. I can’t, but that doesn’t mean I am going to sit back idly and watch while we let more kids die.”

Guilt flashes in Fury’s eye. “ I’m sorry, Agent Barton, but your objection is overruled. We need all the help we can get. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll ask Nico and Will if they would like to stay here in the compound.”

Chapter Text

CLINT'S POV

My neck aches from being crouched in this vent for the past ten minutes. If it was up to me, the air vents would be a lot bigger, but knowing him, Stark is probably paying someone to shrink them, just so he can watch me try to eavesdrop while being squashed by the layers of metal.

I don’t normally spy on my friends all too often, but this is different. Fury dismissed us all from the meeting, except for Nat. Either he wants to be set up with some agent form across the street, or he needs her to find some information. It can’t be a coincidence; Fury wants to spy on Will and Nico.

“Something came up while I was interrogating Solace.”

The director’s voice echoes through the room. Honestly, it’s like they want me to hear them.

“What kind of something?” Nat’s tone is ladened with suspicion.

“He reacted clearly when I asked if he and the other boy were close.”

“He was lying?”

“He was hiding something. Something to do with his relationship with Nico.”

“Lots of agents pretend to know each other, but in reality have barely met. It’s a common tactic. You think they’re part of some kind of organisation?”
One that uses kids as spies. I want you to find everything about these boys. If they’re threats, I needed to know yesterday.”

C’mon Natasha. It’s two teens. Don't do this.

“Give me five hours.”

****
NICO'S POV

A British voice breaks me from my dream, sending my thoughts tumbling back into reality.

“Mr. Nico, someone is requesting access to this room. At your discretion, I will open the door.”

What. Was. That. Do kids these days have talking robots, and Will didn’t tell me? What should I do? Talk to it?

“Um…Sure. Open the door, please.”

At the last minute I remember to add an awkward ‘ thank you’ onto the end, just to appease my mother’s love of manners.

Huh. I can't remember my mother ever saying that, but it...feels right.

Goddam river Lethe.

My head snaps up as the door slowly opens, revealing a somewhat familiar woman with fiery red hair - darker than Rachel’s, but still attention-grabbing and bright.

“Hi Nico. My name is Natalie, I’m an agent working for SHIELD.”

I nod, getting the impression that she is watching my reactions carefully.

“Hi Natalie.” Oh gods, that sounded super suspicious. She’s going to think you’re a spy. Play it cool, Nico.
“What can I do for you?” No! That sounded even worse!

She smiles. “I just have a few questions, if that’s alright.”

Clearly, I do not have an option.

“Um, okay. Ask away.”

“How are you feeling?”

Oh. I didn’t expect that. Usually it’s only Will or Hazel asking that question. Reyna too, but she normally demands, not asks.

“I mean, except for the massive stab wound, I’m feeling great, thanks.”

Natalie doesn’t laugh.

“The person who brought you here, Will. How long have you known him?”

“Uh, a while. Like, not too long, but not too short, either. We’re, um, good friends.” Has she guessed? Does she know we’re dating? What is she going to do?

“Sure. And, while I’m here, what’s your last name?”

Crap. If they look me up on any internet-thingy, they’re going to know I kinda don’t exist. At least, not in this generation. What if they find records of me from italy? Then they’ll know for sure I don’t belong in this time.

But if I don’t tell her, I’ll be even more suspicious. Would she arrest me? Kill me?

“Nico Di Angelo.”

Natalie nods. “Thank you, Nico, that will be all. I think Banner has a few more tests he would like to run.”
“Uh, okay.”

She looks up at the ceiling. “JARVIS, tell Dr. Banner that Nico is awake.”

Dr. Banner’s voice echoes from the speaker.

“Thanks, Nat, we’ll be right over.”

I pause. "We?"

Natalie smirks.

“Looks like someone else is keen to see you.”

****

"...So when you take the base vaccine and add -"

My conversation with Dr. Banner is cut off by JARVIS, his butler-voice sending both anxiety and relief through my veins at once with what he informs us of.

“Doctor, Agent Romanoff would like me to inform you that Mr Di Angelo is awake.”

I glance at Bruce, very aware that I probably was not meant to hear that.

“Where is he?”

Bruce sighs, seemingly resigned to the fact that nothing he can do can stop me from seeing Nico.

“Room 347. Here’s the keycard.”

****

I burst through the door, nearly colliding with the agent standing next to it. Sorry, scary lady.
I glance up, and there, sitting on the bed, fiddling with his skull-ring, is my Neeks.

“Nico!”

A tiny smile breaks across his face.

“Will.”

I power-walk over to him, unable to keep the obvious worry off my expression. He’s alive. He’s okay.

“Hey Sunshine. I thought I’d lost you there.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the agent with red hair frowning, confused.

Nico leans in and places a kiss on my cheek.

“Not without saying goodbye, Solace.”

The agent looks as if the puzzle she’d been trying to figure out had magically solved itself. Then she smirks.

Nico glares at her.

“I didn’t realise we were so hilarious.”

She just shakes her head slowly, muttering. I catch something along the lines of “I can’t wait to tell Fury about this.”

I can’t bring myself to care about what she needed to know.

I have Nico in my arms, and he is alive.

I have everything I need right here.

Chapter Text

NAT'S POV

“So you’re telling me that the reason Will Solace lied to me in our little interview is because he is dating Nico Di Angelo?”

Fury glares from behind his desk. If it’s directed at me, or that’s just his natural expression, I’m still not sure.

“Correct.” I still can’t believe we were that worried about those two.

“We’re still not out of the woods yet, agent.”

“What do you mean?”

Fury sighs. "I'm...not sure yet. But something is off about this whole situation. Agent Romanoff, I need you to -"

The director is cut off by a nervous-looking SHIELD messenger bursting through the door.

“Director Fury Sir, The compound has been breached!”

That gets the pirate out of his seat.

“What are we dealing with, agent?”

“I don’t know,” He pants. “Some kind of monster, our agents haven't been able to confirm anything yet.”

That rings a bell. I turn to the panicked agent. “Did these monsters have one copper leg?”

“Yes! And one horse-y leg - what are they?”

Fury slams open the door. “That’s confidential. Romanoff, with me.”

—----------------------------------------------—

NICO'S POV

Loud alarms scream over the speakers, causing Will to tighten his grip on my hand to Boa Constrictor levels with shock.

Di immortals. The technology these days is so noisy.

A wordless glance between us sends Will and I rushing for the door, me tossing him one of the daggers hidden in my boot. All those fancy computers and they still couldn’t search me properly. We barely make it two corridors before I slam straight into the shoulder of a very-startled looking star-spangled man.

The avengers must spend a lot of time in the med-bay.

I take an involuntary step back, my thoughts not quite catching up to the murder standing in front of me. They say by the time you see his shield, you’re already dead.

****
“Mama!” Bianca hissed. “ Nico is still in the room.”

Our mother frowned, her huge brown eyes lightning up with guilt.

“ I am sorry, Nico, I did not mean to scare you. It is time you go to bed.”

I took the hint, groaning as I trudged off to me and my sister’s bedroom. As soon as my mother glanced back to Bianca, I snuck back into the hallway, pressing my ear to the living room door.

“Bianca, a boy of his age shouldn’t be that scared of the War.”

Oh.

“It’s different for him, Mama. He’s always been fascinated by Captain America, and now he finds out he hates our people.”

“He hates the flag we live under, Bianca, not us overselves.”

“Then why is he killing our people, Mama?”

****
“Nico? Sunshine, remember to breathe.” Will’s southern accent breaks through my flashback.

I glance up to see several concerned Superheroes staring down at me. Including him.

“Kid, you alright?” The archer asks, taking a step forward.

“I, um…” What in Medusa’s curls am I meant to tell them?

A man with a VERY cool eyepatch interrupts. “We don’t have time for this. Avengers, we cannot allow for the compound to be taken over. Engage protocol 174B.”

His orders are met with blank stares.

The rich-looking guy looks like he was trying to contain a snicker. “Which one was that again?”

Eyepatch man sighs. “Let me rephrase that. Avengers, kill the donkey-woman.”

The Avengers smirk, sprinting down a set of stairs. Captain America turns to us.

“Stay here, and stay down.”

I take a gulp of air as he follows his team. Will glances at me.

"So, are we staying here?”

I snort, the closest thing I’ve got to a laugh.

“Like hell we are.”

Chapter Text

STEVE'S POV

Aliens? It’s times like these that make me miss the good old days. Now, I’m slamming a very attractive looking donkey-lady with a shield painted like the American flag.

These ladies are very pretty. Huh. Behind me, I hear the rhythmic bang of Bucky’s machine gun, firing into the hoard of monsters. I glance back towards him, and suddenly, the donkey-ladies don’t seem so beautiful anymore.

My best friend cracks the but of his gun over the head of an alien, spinning around to kick another in the jaw. At least he doesn’t seem to be having a problem with their looks. In fact, Bucky’s the only guy on the team who isn’t somewhat frozen in place, staring at the aliens. Well, aside from me, that is. Even Nat isn’t sparing them a few glances, though she seems more interested in putting bullet holes through their heads.

Tony slams his iron-encased fist into the stomach of one of the monsters, still unable to break eye-contact with her…it.

“Get out of my house, sweetheart!” Tony calls, probably smirking under that helmet.

The others snap out of their trances, quickly laying waste to this group. We don’t say it, but I can tell we’re all thinking the same thing; That’s what you get for messing with the Avengers on our home turf.

Nat turns to me, wiping the sticky dark blood off her hands. “Is it just me, or was that too easy?”

Clint nods, pacing over to join the group. “I agree. Most of the ones I was fighting were trying to get past me, further into the compound instead of engaging me properly.”

“So the question is,” I look my team in the eyes. “What, or who, do they want?”

“I don’t know,” Tony cuts in. “But I intend to find out.”

****

The funny thing about being an Avenger, is that whenever you think the fight’s over, it’s usually just beginning.

“Uh, Cap?” Banner’s voice crackles to life over the coms.

“We’ve taken out the aliens in the east half of the compound. Hopefully, there shouldn't be any on your end.” I reply, hefting my shield a little higher on my arm.

“Yeah, about that.”

“What’s wrong?” Just when I thought we could have a break.

“Well…we have about 20ish alien-thingys outside the labs -”

I cut him off. “Who’s we?”

“That’s the thing. It’s Nico and Will, Steve.”

Darn. I know where this is going.

“They’re fighting the aliens. And they’re winning.”

The elevator slowly descends, much slower than I seem to remember it being. Sam’s elbow is shoving into my ribs, and Tony’s head is uncomfortably close to my chest. I would be worried about the oxygen levels in here if we broke down. Annoyingly cheerful elevator music blasts from the speaker on the roof, and I think Clint’s considered shooting it approximately seven times in the last two minutes.

I glance over at Bucky, who is jammed between Nat and the archer, and looks like he’s considering ripping open the walls with his metal arm. He catches me staring, awkwardly nodding and breaking eye contact. When was the last time I’ve seen him smile?

When was the last time I’ve smiled?

Finally, after what seems like hours of this torture, the doors ding open, revealing an…intresting scene.

What looks like all twenty of the aliens Banner reported are lying dead or unconscious on the once-pristine white floor, now splattered in blood. There’s several chipped daggers piled next to the bodies, probably belonging to the monsters. And, in the middle of it all, dripping with sweat and blood, are our two missing teenagers.

The dark haired boy, Nico, looks up, sending a honestly terrifying death glare my way.

“You’re welcome.” He snaps.

Dam, what did we ever do to him?

Tony steps up, kicking one of the bodies out of the way. For the record-”

“For the record, Mr. Stark, I would like to speak to Will and Nico. Alone.”

Nick Fury appears from the shadows, interrupting whatever childish insult the billionaire was about to let loose.

The two teenagers eye each other warily, seemingly having a whole conversation with their stares.

“Fine by us, I guess.”

Will frowns faintl, his hand drifting towards a wicked looking dagger on his belt. At the last second, however, he pulls it back, instead entwining his fingers with Nico’s.

Fury gives a pointed look at all of us. “Alone.” He turns on his heel, leading the boys into a room next to the labs.

The automatic door closes behind us, and I spin to face my team.
“Whatever we do, we are not eavesdropping.”

****

“Cap, are you finished eavesdropping yet?”

I move my head from its spot flat against the door. “I’m not eavesdropping, I’m gathering valuable intel.”

Nico’s muffled voice emerges from the other room once more.

“Okay, cut to the chase. What do you want with us?”

“Your help.”

“Excuse me? Why would the Avengers need our help?”

“Because…” Fury sighs, probably resigning himself to asking two teenage boys for assistance. “Because, like it or not, you both clearly know more about these creatures than us - and if they keep attacking at their current rate, we’re going to need backup.”

“Backup in battle, or backup as in information?” Will asks, his tone making it seem more like a demand than a question.

“Both.”

A heavy silence fills the room.

“And where would we stay?”

“I’m assuming you both are without parents?” Oh. Poor kids.

“That…would be correct.” Nico’s voice breaks in a way that makes me want to wrap him in a hug. From the rustling that follows, it sounds like Will did just that.

“We have a legal guardian, though. From our summer camp”

“I see. May I call them now?”

Another pause.

“Well, uh, we kind of don’t use much technology at camp.”

“So you’re saying that your legal guardian, put in charge of you by the state, does not possess a phone, or any other means of communication?”

Nico mutters something to himself. “Give us five minutes.”

About seven minutes later, just as I was about to give up listening, a phone rings.

“Hello? Will, Nico, is everything alright?”

A clear (and very loud) female voice fills the room, presumably the person these two extremely strange teenagers called.

“Rachel, hey!”

The girl on the other line sighs. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, how Dare you insinuate such a thing?”

Will snorts with laughter.

“ Ha ha. I’m hanging up now, Nico.”

“Wait! Rachel, I need you to go get Chi-um, Mr. Brunner.”

“Oh. Yeah sure thing. Just out of curiosity, where the actual hell are you right now?”

“Oh, you know. With some people quite like you, in fact.”

Quite like you? What’s that supposed to mean?

“Right. Cool. Capice. Getting Mr. Brunner now.”

A few more minutes of silence, enough to make me play back the conversation several times in my head, and shush several Avengers who can’t sit still for 10 freaking minutes.

Once more, sound floods from the room, this time with an old yet strong tone.

“Hello, boys. Miss Dare said you needed to speak with me?”

“Yes, Mr. Brunner. Um, well, long story short, Nick Fury wants to ask if we can stay at the Avengers compound for a while.”

The phone is passed off to a confused director.

Nico almost sounds like he might be smiling. “That’s your problem now, Director.”

****
WILL’S POV

So…After a very awkward conversation with a centaur pretending to be a middle-school teacher/camp director, in which we are both trying not to give away our lives's biggest server in front of a master
spy working for a government agency in charge of a team of literal superheroes, it has been decided that Nico and I will be staying with the Avengers for six weeks. Six weeks of watching our words, not using our powers, and trying not to get smited for revealing the existence of the Greek gods to mortals.

Huh. And here I was thinking that being a half-blood would eventually get old.

The eyepatch guy - Director Fury - leads us through the sliding door, nearly crashing into six very surprised looking Avengers. He regains his composure in epic timing, glaring down at the heroes. Captain America meets his eye in the staring contest of the century. Me and Nico watch eagerly, trying to see who will back down first.

Nick Fury looks away, turning his gaze to the group.

“From now on, Nico Di Angelo and Will Solace will be living here, in the compound. They will be helping us investigate the so-called ‘alien’ creatures we have been fighting over the past two days. That will be all.”

****

CLINT’S POV

Children. Fury is bringing on literal teenagers to help ‘investigate’ a new threat. I know SHIELD can sink pretty low, but I never thought they would actually put children in harm’s way. Well, on purpose, I suppose.

I can hear his argument, clear as day; these are no normal teenagers.

But don’t they deserve the chance to try and have a normal, happy life? Unlike so many of the ‘superheroes’ surrounding me.

Nat. She never got the choice. Never got to fight to keep herself safe. Never got to say no.

Steve was injected with super soldier serum during world war two; even before that, though, he was serving in the army. Barely a man, watching his friends die for their country. I don’t see how anyone could recover from that.

Tony, as much as I don’t want to admit it, was born rich. He had cameras shoved in his face before he was old enough to string a sentence together. He could never start a normal life. The press wouldn’t let him.

And Bruce, called a monster and a menace for something he can’t control. At least the people love Captain America and Ironman - they fear the Hulk. Honestly, I would begin to fear myself.

I guess what I’m saying is I don’t want these young, happy boys to lose what we will never regain.

But who knows. Maybe they’ve already lost it.

Those daggers and bows must be there for a reason.

With our newest recruits headed to check out their rooms, the Avengers assemble for an emergency meeting.

“You all know how I feel about this.”

“We do, Clint. But we can’t change Fury’s mind.” Funny. Steve had no problem disagreeing with the director when it was his best friend they were after.

“With that in mind, I think that we should try and make the boys feel welcome. You know, get to know them.” Bruce adds, fiddling with his hands.

Tony snorts. “You want us to have a quality bonding session with the kids that just slaughtered a group of aliens by themselves. Yeah, great plan, Brucie.”

“I agree with Bruce. They must be scared right now. We can help with that.” Nat snaps.

“So, what? We watch a movie with them?” Tony asks, rolling his eyes.

Bruce smirks. “Actually, I think that’s a great plan, Tony.”

****
BUCKY’S POV

I knock on the door of Nico’s room, my metal fist echoing against the surface. For some reason, the sound bounced off the walls of my skull, overwhelming my thoughts.

Stupid metal arm. Who the hell would feel safe around you when you have a constant reminder of the lives you’ve ended staring people in the eyes whenever you lift your shoulder?

Be quiet. I tell my thoughts. You’re not helping.

Surprisingly, that works.

“Come in.” A slightly accented voice calls. I’ve heard that type of accent before. But where?

The door slides open. I miss the days where you would turn an actual door handle. Simpler times.

I blink in shock as I walk into the room to see not one, but two boys, lying on the bed. Nico is on his stomach, sketching something in a book, while Will is propping his head up with his arms, having a one-sided conversation with his friend.

“So, do you think Luke Skywalker is cuter than Han Solo, because I have conflicting feelings about both…”

I’m sorry, what? I remember Tony telling me about Star Wars a couple of weeks ago, but why would a teenage boy find Luke Skywalker cute? Is this another one of those ‘memes’ Shuri was showing me?

God, kids these days make me feel so old.

Upon realising I’m here, Will sits up rather quickly, and Nico just about falls off the bed in his haste to stand.

“Um, Hi. I’m Bucky, I live here too. The guys are having a movie night, and they sent me to invite you to come.”

A smile breaks across Will’s face, making his eyes shine like they have little rays of sun trapped inside of them. “Sure! We would love to, wouldn’t we Nico?”

The dark-haired boy pouts. “But I was enjoying listening to you rant about Empire Strikes Back trivia.”

“What if we watch Star Wars?”

Nico delibrates. “Fine. But don’t you dare put butter on the popcorn again.”

“ Excuse you, It tastes better that way!”

The boys bicker all the way to the main lounge, only pausing to watch as I use the voice-activation to gain access to the level reserved for the team. They remind me of Steve and I, back in ‘42, with the way they argue and tease each other. I can almost hear a younger version of us in these kids.

At the same time, I can hear the same wall between them. The way teasing trails off into awkward silence, like something invisible is holding some words back. The unspoken tension between me and Steve also haunts Will and Nico.

The tension that never really went away.

We arrive in the ginormous lounge/movie theater on the second highest floor of the compound. No one but Avengers, me, and Miss. Pots are allowed up here. Not even Director Fury, to Tony’s consistent amusement.

Nat waves us in without needing to see us walking through the door. I guess I’m not as stealthy as I thought. She glares at the team, and everyone mutters awkward ‘hellos’. I hesitate for a second, wondering if it would be okay to sit next to Steve on the massive couch in front of the screen. Something Sam says makes him smile, the fading sunlight lighting up his blond hair. I go ahead and sit next to him.

Tony turns to the boys. “Right, introductions. I barely remember these names but I do expect you to. You’ve already met Cap, Birdman, Brucie and Bucket over there -”

“Steve, Clint, Bruce and Bucky.” Wanda cuts in, guestring helpfully to the corresponding members.

She seems to think that Tony is not fit to continue this conversation, (not unless she wants to be introduced as the
‘ knock-of-Nat’), taking over herself.

“I’m Wanda Maxifmoff, and this is my brother, Pietro.”

Pietro nods, then disappears into the kitchen for more snacks, coming back with an armful of candy a barley one second later.

“He has superspeed.” Wanda cuts in, glancing at Will and Nico’s raised eyebrows. Honestly, they didn’t seem too shocked.

“Anyway, next to Steve on the couch are Sam and Rhodey. We usually have one more member, Thor, but he’s currently out doing god knows what on Asgard.”

Nico chokes air. “Thor, as in, Thor god of Thunder?” His eyes widened, nervously looking through the massive glass window, as if worried that the god might be hovering there right now.

It’s Nat’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You know Thor?”

“We’ve heard of him, most people have nowadays.” Will cuts in with a somewhat-forced laugh.

“Right. Well, anyway, take a seat anywhere and we’ll start the movie.”

Nico glances at Will, his expression unsure. Will smiles, pulling Nico over to the only available seat left; a small, cushioned loveseat. Nico hesitates, and Will whispers in his ear hurriedly. My trained hearing picked up on their conversation.

“Is this okay?”

“Y-yeah. This is okay.”

“Are you sure? Because we can find someone else to sit-”

Nico smiles faintly. “No. I want to sit with you.”

Will nods, and curls up on the loveseat. Nico, after a second, relaxes and rests his head on the blonde’s shoulder, one leg draped over the arm of the chair.

Do friends do that nowadays? I’m probably just reading too much into things, again.

After a heated debate on what movie to watch, in which Nat ended up throwing the remote at Clint after he suggested the Hunger Games for the seventh time, the opening text to A New Hope plays on the huge screen, everyone grinning and reading along.

I was still salty that no one wanted to watch The Hobbit, but I guess fine literature is thrown aside in this day and age. Something about the movies being terrible.

Halfway through, Tony fell asleep, and Clint’s head was resting in Nat’s lap while she made a bunch of micro-plaits in his hair. Sam was watching, enthralled, and Steve grinning like an idiot, humming along to the theme music. Nico and Will were whispering to each other as Luke Skywalker’s muscles flexed in his battle with a Stormtrooper.

I guess the actor is in shape.

****

WILL’S POV

The screen faded to black and the credits started rolling. Yesterday I found out who the Avengers were and now I’m watching Star Wars with them. The life of a demi-god, I suppose.

I glance down to see that Nico is barely awake, his eyes slightly glazed. He senses me staring and entwines his fingers with mine. His hands are so cold, sucking some of the warmth out of my own. I’m more than happy to share.

Stretching, I jump up from our chair, smiling at the tired Avengers next to us.

“Well, people who technically kidnapped us, this has been a great bonding session. Me and Nico are going to get some sleep now.”

Steve smiles tentatively. “Well, your technical kidnappers would like to wish you both goodnight.”

I half-carry an exhausted Nico back to his room - that wound on his side must be causing him more pain than he admits. I make a mental note to take him to Dr. Banner tomorrow morning, though I can hear his stubborn reply already; ‘I’ve been stabbed before, Solace. I’ll be fine.’

My boyfriend has yet to learn that you don’t build up tolerance to stab wounds.

Nico turns to me as the automatic door to his room slides shut.

“So. This is the first time we’ve been alone, properly, since yesterday.”

“Yeah. Do we want to talk about what the heck happened with those Empousa?”

****

One day earlier, at camp half-blood

The Apollo cabin feels dull and empty with just me and Kayla in it. It’s winter, so barely anyone is staying at camp - Nico’s sisters Hazel and Reyna come to visit sometimes, but otherwise nothing really interesting happens. My half-brother Austin invited me to go with his family on a road trip, but I wanted to stay with Nico instead.

Roadtrips just remind me of my mom anyway.

At least I have an excuse to make Nico stay in the Apollo cabin with me. I worry about him, all alone in the Hades cabin. He says he prefers it that way, but he’s kidding no one.

During this time of year, a call from Chiron wouldn’t be out of the ordinary - the centaur has been helping me with my medicine skills, so that I can hopefully get into a good college in a few years. It’s been nice, what with the whole fiasco with my dad - Apollo - been turned mortal last summer, to have a parental figure of some sorts, even if he is a century-old horse person. This particular conversation, however, was not one I wanted to have again.

“ Will, good to see you. I know you’re very busy with your studies, but this cannot wait.”

Dam it. That kind of opener is never good.

“What do you need, Chiron?”

Please don’t be another quest, please don’t be another quest.

“Don’t worry, Will, it’s not another quest.”

Oh thank the gods.

“...Just a small job, really.”

Great. Knowing the demi-god life, this ‘small job’ will be a month-long escapade into a certain deathtrap.

“Exactly how small are we talking?” Nico appears behind me, suspiciously surrounded by shadows. It’s like he has no regard for his health.

“Oh, Nico, good timing. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t put you and your boyfriend in too much danger.”

Nico mutters something under his breath, sounding a lot like “You and I have a very different idea of too much.”

Chiron pretends not to hear. “Retired Demi-gods throughout Manhattan have been reporting sightings of Empousa around the city, attacking in small groups. Sally Jackson has also Iris-messaged me to say that she had heard some making promises of revenge, and other such things.”

“So we need to, what, send them all back to the Underworld?”

“Yes, but also find out who or what they want revenge on. The summer season is starting in a few months, and I don’t want this interfering with the search for new demi-gods.”

Nico turns to me. “What do you think, Solace? Up for a little monster-slaying?”

“Sure. Why not? It’s not like we have much else to do.”

My boyfriend grins. “Meet me by Thalia’s tree in 20 minutes. With a weapon, this time.”

Chapter Text

WILL'S POV

“What do you think the Empousa wanted? I mean, obviously revenge, but revenge on who? My guess would be Percy, seeing as he and Rachel killed a bunch during his quest for the master bolt.”

Nico rapid fire asked and answered his own questions, guestring wildly with hands for good measure. He does this when he’s running on no sleep.

“Goodnight, Sunshine.”

He pauses his ranting to glare at me.

“C’mon Neeks; you know you are a ray of Sunshine.”

He turns his head to the side to hide the tiny smile that graced his features. “Buonanotte, Solace.”

I can’t stop smiling as his door closes behind me and I head to my own room across the hall.

Gods, he is amazing.
****
NICO'S POV

My eyes flutter open, sending a momentary wave of panic through my body as I take in my surroundings. Where am I?

A British voice rings out from a hidden speaker. “ Good morning, Mr. Di Angelo. It is 9am on Tuesday the 17th of April in the Avenger’s compound in New York.”

Oh, right. Robots are weird.

I stumble out of bed and throw on a black metallica t-shirt and black jeans with a, you guessed it, black hoodie. These, and several other outfits were already in the closet when I arrived, so I’m guessing someone with good taste ordered them.

As I sleeply shower and brush my teeth, my brain rushes to form a plan. I call it: Avoiding Captain America so that he doesn’t murder me 101.

Step one: Don’t talk to him. At all.

Step two: Don’t let him know you’re italian. He seems nice enough now, but you never know what will make him snap. He fought so many of us during The War, and I'm not willing to take any chances.

Step three: Do not, under ANY circumstances, let him be alone with Will. This man is not touching a single hair on my boyfriend’s head.

If he hurts Will…Okay there Nico, bit too early in the morning for homicidal thoughts.

After brushing my teeth for a good 5 minutes, I see no other possible excuse to put off getting breakfast. With the Avengers. And a murderer from the 40s. Yay.

I navigate the labyrinth that is the compound halls ( I mean, I have made it through the actual Labyrinth - I think I can manage a building ) and walk into the huge kitchen adjoining the lounge room we were in the night before.

I’m greeted by all of the Avengers, plus one very awake looking son of Apollo. How these people get up at this hour astonishes me.

I forgive his obnoxious ability to wake up, however, when Will’s face explodes into a grin upon seeing me. I guess I am a friendly face.

“ Morning Neeks! It’s a wonderful day, don’t you think?”

Okay, now he’s just rubbing it in.

Mumbling my usual complaints ( I have a reputation to uphold ), I slide onto the bar stool next to him. And that’s when I see it.

I look up, making eye contact with an energetic Clint Barton, apparently in charge of making breakfast. The archer stands at the stove, holding a handful of spaghetti above a boiling pot.

A very small pot.

Is he going to -

I call out a warning of pure anxiety as he snaps the sacred spaghetti in half and dumps it in the water.

I think my soul goes with it.

“ What are you doing?!” I shout, feeling insulted and vengeful and a dozen other things at once.

Clint glances at me, confused. “ Making breakfast. You hungry?”

“ No!” I cry, louder than I meant to be. By now, everyone in the room is staring at me. My traitorous boyfriend is trying, and failing, not to laugh.

“ I mean, no thank you. Clint, why on The God’s green Earth, in the name of all things holy, have you broken that pasta? Why are you serving Pasta for breakfast in the first place? And, why, is everybody acting like this acceptable? Have you all no shame?”

Will, finally at his limit, bursts out laughing. “ Nico, dear, I don’t think anyone here has been to Italy.”

Clint frowns. “ No, I have been to Italy.”

I glance from him to the ruined food in the pot, taking a deep, calming breath.

“ Move.” I command, shoving past him and into the kitchen.

“ Nico, what are you -”

“ You all clearly have no taste or appreciation for good food. I am cooking a proper Italian breakfast - and you will like it.”

It was only then that I remembered step two: Don’t let them know you’re Italian.

—-----------------------------------------—

WILL'S POV

My mind feels like a broken record as I watch Nico run around the kitchen, one thought repeating over and over again: I am so in love with him.

Wait. What?

Did I just…am I…am I in love with Nico Di Angelo?

This is too much for me to think about right now.

I take a deep breath, and start doing what I always did when it got too much; take care of someone else. If you’re busy taking care of other people, your thoughts can’t catch up to you. It’s easier that way.

Nico is due a check-up anyway.

I manage to breathe through breakfast, shaking as my hands come into contact with Nico’s. I don’t know why three words could upset me so much. It’s just an ‘I love you.’

I love you.

I’m sitting on my bunk in the Apollo cabin, laughing with my older brother Lee. He smiles and reaches over to ruffle my hair. “ We’re all family here, Will. We all love you.”

“ I’m sorry, Mr. Solace. He died a hero.”

My brother died a hero in the battle of the Labyrinth. Died a hero, while I hid away in a tent, healing the campers that survived long enough to drag themselves over.
Maybe if I had been fighting that day, it would’ve been with the dented skull instead. Maybe Lee would’ve made it.

“ It’s okay Will. I know you miss him.” Now it’s Micheal Yew smiling sadly at me, the new head councillor of the Apollo cabin. “ I’ll keep you guys safe. I promise.”

He promised.

The Battle of Manhattan. Almost in slow motion, I see the cables holding the bridge snap. One by one. Wait! I want to tell Percy. Micheal’s still on there!

I was too far away. He couldn’t hear me if I screamed. None of them could hear me now.

Another brother. Another sister. Another chest compression, another IV, another funeral shroud. Blood coating my hands. My siblings crying for their best friends to wake up.

Chiron stares at me with pity in his eyes. “ Will, these are trying times. You are the oldest person left in your cabin. You need to step up now.”

13 years old, and in charge of my grieving siblings.

I never said I love you to someone again.

If I say I love Nico, will the same happen to him?

I grab my boyfriend’s wrist. “ Time for a check-up, Neeks.”

I think he sees something in my expression, because for once he doesn’t argue.

Chapter Text

BRUCE'S POV

Will asked to use one of my labs to make sure Nico was healing alright. I said yes, as long as he brought me with him for a second opinion. The kid's clearly a good doctor, but he's also 16. I go ahead and open a patient file for Nico as well, seeing as he'll be staying here for a while.

I enter his height and weight as Will measures them - short and shorter. Both boys looked uncomfortable as Will wrote down Nico's weight, Nico wrapping his arms around his chest subconsciously. I got the feeling that that was something that needed to be brought up, but now wasn't the time.

His age was significantly more difficult. The teenagers danced around that number, alright - "He, uh, looks about Will's age."

"So 16?"

"Well..."

"More than six months, give or take."

"So he's 15."

"Sure. Let's go with that."

You know what - I'm not going to ask.

Finally, both Will and I examine the stab wound above Nico's hip. By this stage, the injury should be a mess of pain, but for some reason this one's been reduced to a raw red puncture. Okay, does this kid have a healing factor I don't know about?! That's the only logical explanation for such a fast recovery.

"Great! Well, that's done, as you can see, I'm doing good, can I leave now?"

Will sighs. "Yes, Neeks. Thank you for coming."

Hesitantly, he peeks him on the cheek. Nico flushes bright red.

Will whispers something in a language I don't understand.

"Φιλοῦμαι...περιέχων σε, Nico."

I watch as Nico gives a tiny ghost of a smile, and walks out.

Weird kids.

I guess I've seen weirder, though.

****

BUCKY’S POV

I’ve seen some weird things in my lifetime - in fact, I’ve been around for far longer than I should’ve been able to. Over the course of about 100-ish years, I have fought in one world war, been captured and kept behind enemy lines, was frozen in time for DECADES, and became an infamous assassin against my will. That being said, nothing, and I mean nothing, could’ve prepared me for the sight waiting on 5th avenue, New York.

Flags. Colourful ones, from countries that I definitely do not recognise. Flags, and the hundreds of people holding them. I can’t quite name what is happening until someone starts shouting.

Then I remember.

I was raised in America in the '30s, okay? I know a protest when I see one.

Throughout my time, there have been countless topics of protest; Government, wars, nuclear bombs, food shortages, even some about The Winter Soldier.

But for some reason, this one feels important.

I don’t know how I know. The feeling reminds of the sureness I felt when I looked at Steve, back in the day. That this was my place, my life. My person.

Suddenly, all those nostalgic emotions are gone - I hear stealthy footsteps coming towards me. My blood freezes. All those years of danger and killing threaten to take over. The steady thump of my heartbeat starts to speed up. No. No, no, no. I can’t become HIM again. Steve will hate me.

I don’t get a choice. The metal arm snaps back and grabs the wrist of the attacker behind me…and a familiar voice growls my name under her breath.

“Bucky. Bucky. It’s me.”

I catch a glimpse of fiery red hair in my peripheral and wince, knowing the glare that was sure to follow.

“Nat?”

“Yep. You okay?”

Am I?

“You know how it is.”

“I do.”

She does. More than anyone.

The assassin moves to stand next to me, the scowl I suspected replaced by a tiny grin.

“It’s a pride parade.”

“A what?”

She nods her head towards the protest with the flags in front of us.

“A pride parade. This one must be your first.”

“Y-yeah.”

Nat smiles. “It’s okay to ask, you know.”

“Alright. Oh great Agent Romanoff, mistress of all modern information, may I inquire as to the meaning of such an activity?”

She laughs, the sound exploding across the street like the sun through a gap in the clouds. See. I’m totally poetic, Sam.

Her laugh reminds me of Steve.

A lot does, nowadays.

“Since you asked so nicely, it’s a celebration of the Rainbow Community.”

The what?!

“The what?”

“Another name for LGBTQIA+ people.”

“Nat. You know I don't know what that is."

The highly trained killer snorted. “Gay people, Bucky. And everyone else who was forced to hide in your time - the people who don't fit in the boxes we still insist on having.”

“I’m guessing you don’t mean gay as in happy.”

She side eyes me. “You know what I mean.”

I do.

I remember.

Suddenly, the crowd's gazes seem to look straight through me. I feel far to visible for my liking. Everyone here could probably tell exactly what I was. What I am.

I didn’t like feeling this way.

Like I had something to hide, something that I spent my life hiding.

My pulse grew unbearably loud in my ears. So did the crowd’s chatter. What was Sam always telling me when this happened?

Deep breaths. Right. “You have to breathe, Bucky. Breathe, and then figure out your next move.”

Just like in the military. I could work with that.

I see my friend staring at me with concern, saying my name which I couldn’t seem to hear.

“Nat.” Breathe. “Can we go back to the compound?”

****

We’re halfway up the elevator in the compound before I remember why I was in New York.

“Damn!”

Nat turns to me with an amused expression plastered over her face.

“Language, old man.”

For once, I was too busy to snap back with a sarcastic ‘watch your tone, young lady.’

“I forget to pick up Steve’s-” I cut myself off hurriedly. That was a secret, Bucky. You’re slipping.

“No, no, tell me. Steve’s what?” Nat asks, mischief running across her features.

“Nothing. Just…nothing.”

“Mmmmhmmm. Yup.”

“Stop ‘Mmmmhmming.’ It’s nothing.”

“Okayyyyy. If you say so.”

Lord give me strength. This assassin is worse than one of my little sisters.

The elevator stops on the floor below our’s, on account of Nat pushing all the buttons.

Fine. Me AND Nat pushing all the buttons.

“Last chanceeeee. Or I’m telling everybody that you quoted an entire page of The Hobbit last week.”

“You wouldn't."

“...”

“OKAYIWASGOINGTOTHISREALLYNICEJEWELLER’SINTOWNBECAUSEHERGRANDMOTHEROWNEDTHESHOPINTHE40sANDSTEVE’SFAMILYKINDAKNEWHERANDIWASGOINGTOASKHERTOMAKEANECKALCEORSOMETHINGOUTOFSTEVE’SDOGTAGSFROMTHEWAR!”

“One more time?”

I glare at her. “You understood what I said.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear the Winter Solider, world-famous assassin, say that adorable sentence again."

“OKAY I WAS GOING TO THIS REALLY NICE JEWELLER’S IN TOWN BECAUSE HER GRANDMOTHER OWNED THE SHOP IN THE 40s AND STEVE’S FAMILY KINDA KNEW HER AND I WAS GOING TO ASK HER TO MAKE A NECKLACE OR SOMETHING OUT OF STEVE’S DOG TAGS FROM THE WAR.”

You can imagine the passive-aggressiveness used to articulate that last paragraph.

“That’s really sweet, Bucky. Also, how do you have Steve’s Dog tags? There better be a totally not creepy explanation for this.”

Now, to understand this next horrific part of my life, you need to understand exactly three things that happened immediately after that comment.

One; the Elevator doors dinged open, revealing a surprised-looking Captain Steve Rogers starting right at me.

Two; The aforementioned Steve Rogers grinned and said “We always used to swap our Dog tags with each other before a mission - that way, we would have to come back alive, because otherwise we would’ve died under the wrong name. I still had Bucky’s tags when I went into the ice, and he had mine when HYDRA found him. It confused a great many people back in the day.”

And three, the icing on the top of the embarrassment cake; I ducked out of the elevator, past Steve, and ran for my life.

Yeah, I know.

Chapter Text

NICO’S POV

“So you’re telling me you’ve never had Gelato before?”

My very Texan boyfriend nods. “ I didn’t really know it was a thing until today.”

Unbelievable. Simply Unacceptable. Unexcusable, really. Un…you get the point.

“We’re getting Gelato.”

A beautiful smile breaks out across Will’s sun-tanned face, his eyes lighting up with joy like they do whenever I say something not-depressing. A glimpse into the world of your suppressed inner child, he would say. My inner child died 5 years ago, I remind him. He doesn’t seem to like it when I say stuff like that. Too melancholy for this time of morning, apparently, even if I very kindly wait until one past 12.

“When do we leave?”
I pause to consider. “You have 10 minutes. Meet me at the front entrance.”

“Yes, Captain!” He nearly crashes into the wall trying to salute and walk backwards at the same time.

I suppress a sigh, which basically counts as bursting into giggles for me. Will grins again, and I feel a bright blush creep up into my cheeks. I learnt long ago that there’s no stopping the heat from tinting my face red, and Will takes great joy in making me turn an alarming colour around our friends.

And he wonders why he’s a significant annoyance.

****

We burst through the doors of the Gelato place, panting and holding our sides. What began as a leisurely 20-minute walk quickly became an olympic sprinting contest, the only goal to beat the other, by whatever means necessary. My wound had started bleeding again halfway through, but due to the ambrosia Will had me take as soon as we were alone in the tower, I barely noticed it.

My eyes were too glued onto Will to see the red staining the bandage anyway.

Ignoring the glares from an elderly couple previously enjoying the peace of the otherwise empty store, me and Will approached the counter, both moving to ring the bell at the same time. Our hands brushed, and it took all my willpower to not let mine linger for more than a second. It was Will’s turn to blush, although his eyes unfocused for a moment, and he quickly turned away.

A spike of panic runs through me. Did I do something? Gods, did I hurt him?

My thoughts and Will’s awkwardness were broken by a girl around our age appearing from the backroom, carrying a box of paper cups. I look up, catching a flash of bright green hair and doing a double take. The girl drops the box and rushes over to the counter.
“Will?”

Will’s head snaps up. “Kayla?”

A fresh smile breaks across his face as his sister vaults over the counter to embrace him.

“Big brother! I haven’t seen you since summer!”

“I know - what are you doing here, little sis? I thought you were meant to be in Canada with your dad?”

Kayla pulls a face. “Yeah, but I decided to come back early, and this place was looking for hires.”

“Really? Is…is everything okay with your dad?”

“Yup. All fine and dandy, I promise.”

Will frowns slightly, but drops the subject.

I feel awkward being here in this clearly personal moment, but Will grabs my hand and leads us to a corner booth, dragging Kayla with him as well. He sighs contently.

“Isn’t this nice? Just my little sis and my boyfriend and me, sitting in a booth in a gelato place without any gelato.” Will looks pointedly at Kayla, who just rolls her eyes.

“How rude of you to actually make me do my job. What do you guys feel like getting?”

WILL'S POV (for some reason)

Nico pauses for a moment, his expression lost in thought. I have absolutely no idea about gelato flavours (like the author) so I guess it’s on Nico to order.

“ How about one pistachio and one Stracciatella? That way we can split them so you can try both…if that’s okay with you.”

Although I probably wouldn’t know good gelato if it smacked me on the head like one of Austin’s ‘blunt’ arrows, Nico has clearly put some thought into his choices. Seeing the hopefulness in his eyes, I would happily choke down a pile of pegasi hair if it made him look so…not sad again.

Kayla jogs off to get our order ready, and Nico stares out the window, lost in thought. Or, more likely, some old memory he’s just getting back.

The way his entire childhood in Italy was stolen from him for the convenience of a god makes me want to storm down to the underworld and drop a grand piano on Hades’s head. Sure, he’s one of the least bad godly parents, but why is that such a redeeming factor? Oh, congratulations; you’re not outrightly horrible to your child as much as the other gods are - have a gold star!

Oh.

I guess that pretty much sums up my father as well.

Yay. I didn’t need to be sadder today, but I just had to go the extra mile. Always the overachiever, William...

“William? Will? You with me?”

My eyes refocus to see a concerned boyfriend gently placing a hand on my shoulder, like I’ve done to bring him back to reality so many times.

“Uh, yeah. Just…thinking.” Really, they should give you an Oscar, Solace. ‘Best impression of an emotionally-stunted idiot.’ Guess it comes naturally.

My acting skills don’t fool Nico. What a surprise. He hesitates for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out what to say.

“If you want to talk…I’m here, okay? I know I’m not the greatest advice-giver, but I can listen. You’re allowed to have mental health too, Solace.”

I feel a sudden warmth in my chest that may or may not be my heart melting.

“T-thank you, Neeks. That…means a lot. I will talk to you, if I need it.”

Just like Lee taught. A thanks, an acknowledgement, and a promise to start a conversation later. Which really means to not bother them with this again.

Nico’s brow furrows the slightest bit, and suddenly I’m seeing a small ten year old boy asking for something that could never be given;

“Promise?”

“I…promise. I’ll talk to you later, if I need to.”

“I’ll take your word, Solace.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, little brother. Micheal Yew taught him that. Sorry Micheal, but we’re not kids at Camp Half-blood anymore.

Just then, Kayla returned to their table, setting down two large cups of Gelato. Will smiled at her.

“Could we get some some napki-”

His sister threw a handful of napkins in his face. Nico snorted with barely suppressed laughter.

Some things never change.

“I’ll leave you too alone now.” Kayla winked, patting the top of Will’s head. “Don’t stay out too late, big brother.”

Siblings are just delightful.

Nico stuck two spoons into the pistachio one and placed it between him and Will. They both grabbed a spoonful.

“On three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Thr-” At the last second before three, Nico shoved the Gelato in his mouth, nearly choking at Will’s betrayed expression. Will hesitantly took a bite of his, and was promptly smacked in the face with creamy, delicious flavour.

“This is my new favourite thing in the history of the universe ever.”

A rare, tiny smile played on Nico’s lips.

“I would like to spend the rest of my life eating Gelato, please and thank you.”

The smile grew.

“Not if I eat it all before you.”

Will grabbed another spoon menacingly.

“Oh, it’s on, Di Angelo.”

****

The Gelato-eating match lasted approximately 10 minutes before both participants dissolved into giggles, drawing more looks from the old couple sitting in the corner. The boys were laughing too hard to care.

After they managed to compose themselves, they just talked. About everything. If Achilles and Patroclus were in love ( confirmed by Nico during a trip to Elysium ), their siblings ( which they are fiercely protective of, but would also sell for a bag of candy ), what would happen if you swallowed an apple seed ( Nico says an apple tree grows in your stomach, Will says it goes through your digestive system normally, unless you’re a doctor, in which case they both agree you would die immediately.)

It had been a couple hours of non-stop talking when Kayla took a seat on their table, crossing her legs like a kindergartener. She pointed out the window excitedly. “Hey, is that Captain America?”

The boys spun to look outside, and indeed, the Captain himself was standing in the doorway to a neighbouring jewellers shop, holding some kind of silver necklace thingy.

“Woah, it is.” Gods, it is. A thought struck Will. “Hang on, how do you know who Captain America is, Kayla?”

She rolled her eyes. “ I, unlike some people, keep up with the news.”

Will and Nico glanced at each other nervously. “Kayla, w-”

“KAYLA! I need you in the back!” A teenage girl shouts from behind the counter, glaring pointedly at their table.

Will’s sister shrugs. “Duty calls. See you later, Will. Don’t be a stranger.”

Well, that solves one problem.

“Should we go say hi?”

Nico’s expression paled, his eyes darting outside then back. “N-no.”

“Neeks, what’s wrong?” Will knew this look. Something triggered Nico, and that something was Captain America. What did he do to my boyfriend?

“I…”

Lee’s voice rings through my head once more. Will…sometimes, in your life, there will be times where you need to help someone, but they don’t want your help. It’s one of the hardest parts of healing.

“Sunshine. You can talk to me.”

How can we help them, Lee? His brother crouched down, reaching the eye level of a six year old Will. You certainly know how to ask the hard questions, little W. I guess we show those people that they are loved, and that it gets better. That we can’t make it all go away, no one can, but we can listen, and help them understand.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Help them understand. I think I could try that, Lee.

“Maybe. But I could try. I could listen.”

Nico closed his eyes, taking several small, shallow breaths.

Lee’s soft voice whispers encouragement. Breath, Will. You’ve got this. I know it.

“Just breath, darling. Breath and tell me what’s wrong.”

His eyes remain closed. “I…Italy was the enemy. Of the allies, in World War Two.”

If they need to take it slow, that’s okay. You can’t force healing.

“And that’s when you were living in Venice, right?”

“Y-yeah. We…we were terrified of him.”
Him with a capital ‘H’. Something godlike, a super-soldier capable of ending armies.

“Every night, he came up in the broadcasts; slaughtering his way through the Italian ranks, smashing his shield into skulls and slamming fists into good men’s faces. His posters were everywhere, his flag, everywhere. He was the bad guy, for us. And for him…we were the bad guys. I was the bad guy.”

The son of Hades’s eyes are still screwed shut, tears leaking out of the corners and trailing down his cheeks.

And when they’ve finished talking, that’s where we come in, Will. Different people will need different things - it’s up to you to figure out what could help, and what could cause more hurt.

“Shhh, Sunshine. It’s going to be okay. Can I hug you?”

“...Yeah.”

I wrap my arms around my boyfriend. He buries his head into my chest.

Lee? W-what if I hurt someone? What if I say something that I think will help, but it doesn’t?

“It’s going to be okay. No one will hurt you.”

Then I guess we just gotta do the best we can, Will. Trust yourself to know what’s right, and realize when you aren’t.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Trust yourself. I believe in you.

Chapter Text

NATASHA'S POV

A note from Fury is waiting on my desk when I collapsed into my chair. Great. You know, I never imagined that being a superhero would involve so much paperwork.

I freeze ever so slightly. Hero? Is that what they’re calling assassins these days?

Yelena’s voice rings through her head. ‘We may both be killers, yes, but I’m not the killer on the cover of a magazine. I'm not the killer that little girls call their heroes.’

I take a deep breath, bracing myself against the desk. Forcing my hands to steady, I reach for the letter-opener in one of my drawers. The metal gleams in the midday sun shining in through the one small window I allowed to be placed in my office.

Unlike the many loving insult-filled letters I exchange with Tony, Fury’s one is actually printed on SHIELD stationary, signed with the Director’s handwriting with…purple crayon?

Dear Agent Romanoff,

Run Nico Di Angelo and Will Solace through the database. I want to know anything and everything that comes up. Also, Agent Barton swapped all my pens with crayons. Please tell him to give them back.

SHIELD Director, Nick Fury

I sigh. “JARVIS, pull up SHIELD’S grand-database. And remind me to order Clint some donuts.”

A small, holographic screen appears from my desk, showing a catalogue of…well, basically everyone that has ever existed. That we know of. It was started by Agent Carter, with the help of Howard Stark back when SHIELD was first founded - government census, along with criminal records and some good old fashioned math, and suddenly our jobs just got a lot easier.
A panel of frequently searched personnel is hovering on the screen from my previous research. Natasha Romanoff and Natalia Alianova Romanova are the most searched items, along with SHIELD Agent Clint Barton, and Dr. Bruce Banner, from back when I was trying to get some insight into their respective cases. And maybe look up Bruce’s favourite brand of tea for his birthday.

That reminds me. “JARVIS, add more Green tea to my shopping list, please.”

One item off my to-do list, I quickly type Will Solace into the database, along with his year of birth, if what Bruce told me about their ages was true. A couple of Will’s pop up, but I easily enter his hair and eye colour to find my match.

William Andrew Solace

Mother: Naomi Monica Solace

Father: Unknown

Country of birth: United States of America

Current residence: Austin, Texas

Age: 16 years

Sibling(s): Unknown

Current threat level: 0.5/10 - average citizen

I frown. How did a kid from Austin end up in New York fighting aliens?

Threat level 0.5. Something tells me that’s not quite accurate.

I go ahead and send the file to Fury, along with a message. Here’s your info on the kid you asked me to stalk, Director. Have a good day. P.S. I hope you like your crayons. :):)

Just like old times.

I turn back to the database and type in Nico Di Angelo, age 15.

Nothing.

Nico Di Angelo, age 15, brown hair.

Nothing.

Nico Di Angelo, age 15, Italien.

Nothing.

This kid doesn't exist.

A bolt of fear runs through me. This feels just like….It can’t be another Red Room.

It can’t.

I grab the edge of the desk. As my heart rate starts to increase, the door opens with a creak. It used to be silent, but I wired one of the control panels to make a sound. Just in case.

Steve walks in, his footsteps purposely loud to announce his presence.

“You okay?”

No. “Yeah.”

“What do you need?” How can I help, is what he really means.

I THINK THE RED ROOM MIGHT BE BACK BUT I’M NOT SURE BUT I THINK SO BECAUSE NICO DI ANGELO DOESN’T REALLY EXIST AND HE CAN FIGHT AND HE AND WILL SOLACE TURN UP OUT OF THE BLUE AND I THINK HYDRA IS BACK AND I CAN’T GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN AND I’M SCARED.

“I don’t need anything, Steve.”

He peers over my shoulder at the database. “You know, back in my day, they used phone books.”

He’s trying to distract me. Make me laugh.

“The only thing those yellow pages were good for was dropping on people’s heads.”

“Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“...Back in your day, phones didn’t exist. You didn’t have phone books.”

“You got me.”

“What secret have I unveiled now, Captain?”

“I’m secretly a kid from the 90s trapped inside the body of an old man from the 20s in the body of a 27 year old super-soldier.”

I instinctively let out a laugh. Steve smiles.

“Do you want to go to the fanciest restaurant Tony’s money can buy and judge everyone’s outfits? Fury’s files can wait.”

“Yeah.”

“Meet me in 10.”

He turns to go.

“Steve.”

“Yes, Nat?”

“Thank you.”

A small smile breaks out across his face. “Anytime.”

****
NICO’S POV

The robot voice wakes me up.

I did not ask for the robot voice to wake me up.

“Mr. Di Angelo, Agent Romanoff requests your presence in Training Room 3.”

I press my pillow on top of my face in a very dignified fashion. “Mmhgh.”

JARVIS’S voice rings out across the room again. “Playing an audio message from Agent Romanoff.” The slightly British accent switches to the American tones of Natasha Romanoff. “Get your ass over here now, Di Angelo! I’m assessing your combat skills.”

I moan another complaint, but stagger out of bed and hastily shoved on some jeans and a metallica t-shirt, brushing my teeth as I desperately try to flatten down my outrageously poofy hair with a comb.

I hate mornings.

The little boy in Italy loved mornings. Being awake before everyone else, then watching the little people on the street go about their day from the window of the small apartment in Venice. Feeling like he was at the top of the world.

That little boy had so far to fall.

My legs move automatically, following the directions JARVIS gives me. The door to Training Room 3 silently opens as I draw near, revealing several wrestling mats laid out on the wooden floor, along with racks of bows, throwing knives, and pistols, as well as normal gym equipment. Will’s head turns to spot me from where he was standing by the weapons, admiring a bow with the Hawk…bird…archery dude. In the corner, Bucky and Captain America are both taking turns to hit a boxing bag (Bucky using his non-metal hand.) Sam Wilson is jogging on a treadmill, laughing with a much faster Pietro Maximoff. Wanda Maximoff and Dr. Banner are sitting on the sidelines, content to watch, Wanda drawing lazy red circles through the air with one hand. Tony Stark is staring straight at me. He catches me looking back and raises an eyebrow.

I ignore him.

Natasha nods for me and Will to come join her on the wrestling mat. The Archery guy - Clint, I remember - gives Will what he thinks is an encouraging pat on the back. Will winces.

“Alright, you two. Today, I’m going to be assessing your fighting abilities to see what we need to teach you, or what you can teach us. Who wants to go first?”

Will glances at me, his eyes asking a silent question. What would you prefer?

I stare right back. Whatever you want.

A stalemate.

My boyfriend looks to where Captain America is slamming his fist into a boxing bag. “Nico can go first, if that’s alright with him.”

I see what he’s doing. Less chance of me having to fight the man I’m terrified of if he’s still working out.

Natasha looks towards me. I nod my agreement.

“Great. We’ll start with sparring. Pick the weapon you feel the most comfortable with and I’ll use the same one. The aim is to pin, not to wound seriously.”

At least in Capture the Flag we’re allowed some leeway for light stabbing.

I walk across to the vast wall of weapons, scanning the shelves. They already know I’m a good fighter, so why bother hiding it? We’ll figure out a cover story tonight.

I select two shiny silver daggers. They’re no Stygian Iron sword, but I don’t want too many questions to be asked, cover story or not. After experimentally tossing them around in my hands a few times, I head back to the mat where Natasha is already holding the same blades.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Without further pause, she charges, swiping expertly with the daggers. My own weapons flash as I lunge forward to parry the blow. The ear-splitting sound of metal on metal rings out through the room. Natasha twists away, jabbing one dagger towards my ribs. I pull back in the nick of time to avoid getting impaled. I duck low and aim a kick at her ankles, attempting to knock her off balance. She stumbles for a second before regaining her composure flawlessly.

Dam it, Di Angelo. Fight Harder.
I’m aware of everyone’s eyes on us as I send a dagger flying at my opponent’s face. It cuts a small slice above her eyebrow and ricochets into a corner. Natasha barely pauses, moving to try and wrap me in a vicious headlock. I lean backwards and slam my forehead into her skull with a sickening crack. She reels off to one side for a bare second, but before I can move to take advantage of her momentary weakness, a wickedly sharp dagger point wedges into my foot, pining it to the mat. I suck in a violent breath through my teeth and wrench it out. Natasha looks somewhat impressed, sending two more blows towards me that I’m barely able to parry. We trade slashes with the daggers for almost a minute, each briefly gaining the upper hand before losing ground to the other.

If there’s one thing a child of Hades has, it’s endurance - Natasha is panting heavily by this point. While I have just broken a sweat. I hope it doesn’t make me seem too un-human.

Suddenly, a dagger swipes my ankle, sending me crashing to one knee. My opponent is upon me in a moment, shoving my arms behind my back and pressing me down onto the mat.

“Do you yield?”

I struggle, attempting to kick out with my uninjured foot, but she easily holds it down.

“Kid, do you yield?”

I growl, and darkness floods my vision for a second. I pray that no one notices the shadows in the corners growing taller. Natasha bends my arm behind my back further, causing me to wince against my better judgement.

“...yes. I yield.”

She grins and offers me a hand to get up. I ignore it, unsteadily placing weight on my ankle. If this phases her, she doesn’t show it.

“You did good, Di Angelo. Very good. Most people don’t last more than 30 seconds.” She says this not as brag, but in a matter-of-fact way that makes me believe it is the truth.

“You’re pretty handy with a blade,” she continues. “And fast on your feet as well. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Her tone suggests a nonchalant question, thrown in by an interested opponent after a well-done match, but the sudden interest in the other Avenger’s eyes tells a very different story.

I shrug noncommittedly. I really need that cover story.

Will jumps up. “My turn!” He announces, trying to keep the anxiety out of his expression.

Natasha gives me one last smile. “You should be proud of your skill, kid. Thanks for the challenge.”

I don’t smile back. If there’s another thing a child of Hades has, it’s the ability to hold a grudge.

****
CLINT’S POV

Both of the kids fought well. Too well. I hate to think how they learned to parry a blow that instinctively, or swing with a fire and a determination I haven’t seen since I battled a young woman from the Red Room.

The said young woman is lying beside me, her head resting on my legs as I braid her hair in the same style she did mine a few nights ago. Without needing to speak, as soon as she lay down next to me half an hour ago, I knew something was wrong.

“Ready to talk?”

“Yeah.” There’s no question as to how I knew she needed help. That kind of a connection was formed in the early days of working for SHIELD, when I was a temperamental deaf boy and she was the enemy wearing an agent’s uniform.

I glance at her. “It’s about the Di Angelo kid, isn’t it?”

My best friend stares at the ceiling. She doesn’t try to keep the panic from her voice when she answers.

“I think he’s from another Red Room.”

The words cut through the calm silence like a sword.

“You think?”

“I…don’t know for certain. But the signs are there.”

“I believe you. If Natasha Avlinova Romanova thinks the signs are there, they are.”

“Clint?”

“Yeah, Tashy?”

“What if it is?” Her voice sounds so heartbroken, the vulnerable moments not many people are allowed to see.

“Then we do what we did to the first one. Burn it to the ground.”

We slip back into silence. I tie a hairband around one of her braids.

“I don’t know for certain, Clint.”

It’s my turn to stare at the ceiling. I think about a Room that made little girls fight each other to death. I think about a Room that put a gun into the hands of a little girl who was trying to put on a brave face for her little sister. I think about a Room that soaked my best friend’s ledger in red.

“Then we find out.”

Chapter Text

3RD PERSON POV

Rumors speak quickly at Camp Half-Blood. Rachel comforts a little Apollo girl asking about her big brother, saying he’ll be back soon…ish. The girl babbles about it to Lou Ellen, who is managing the infirmary while most of the Apollo cabin is at home for the winter. Lou Ellen tells Miranda Gardner during their weekly ‘gossip sesh’, who asks Travis - or maybe Connor - if any new quests have been issued. Connor tells the rest of the Hermes cabin, or, at least, the ones staying for the winter break, to keep an eye on any missing campers. Cecil Markowitz took it upon himself to IRIS message Hazel and ask if she’s seen her brother recently, which sends Hazel into a panic, who was then overheard by Reyna and the rest of Hunters visiting Camp Jupiter. Reyna demands Chiron tell her where Nico is, who eventually relents in fear for his life, reluctantly explaining that both Nico and Will were currently staying at the Avengers Compound in upstate New York. With The AVENGERS.

PERCY JACKON’S POV

“Hey, Perc?” Annabeth peeked her head around the corner of their run-down Manhattan apartment, a long-forgotten pencil tucked behind her ear.

“Yeah, Wise girl?”

“Did you hear the news about Nico and Will?”

I bring my glass of blue coca-cola to my mouth. “No, but I’m not very up to date with the latest gossip. Did they…wait. Did they get married?”

Annabeth smiles fondly. “No, Seaweed Brain. They’re staying with the Avengers.”

Not for the first time, I was glad I’m a son of Poseidon. Otherwise, I would’ve choked on the mouthful of coca-cola I was just about to swallow.

“They’re doing WHAT?!”

WILL’S POV

My muscles groan and shift as I stumble out of bed. It’s been hours since I got stomped by Natasha Romanoff in that training match, and my body is still aching.

I slam my fist against the wall in frustration.

I lost spectacularly. I am the son of a literal God, and I was pinned by a mortal in less than 45 seconds. All the manoeuvres they taught at camp flew out of my head the moment the fight began. A bitter thought crosses my mind; No wonder they left me in the medical tent during the wars. Maybe I wasn't even a good healer - they just wanted you out of the way.

I scowl at the too-white wall. I hated when I got like this, like every word in my mind was battling against me. I’ve always wanted to be the calm, put-together head councillor, but some days all my masks fall down, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to find the effort it takes to put them back up.

I rest my head against the window frame, a beam of early-morning sunlight illuminating my face. Instead of being peaceful, it just made me want to scream more. I didn’t even think to ask my Father for help in the match. What was the point of being a son of Apollo if I could barely hold my own in a fight. What was the point of being a Demigod?

I slam my fist into the glass half-heartedly. The patch of sunlight got brighter, showing all the drifting dust-particles in the air.
That’s all you have, Dad? Some fancy light-trick to help your son?

I storm out of the room, the door shutting behind me with a satisfying bang.

Thanks for all the assistance, father.

Clint’s POV

I’ve heard the stories of the Red Room. I mean, it’s kind of hard not to when your best friend is Natasha Romanoff. In those very early days, we didn’t really talk about anything, both waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the other to betray the tender alliance. Then, one day, holed up in an air vent restless and anxious, it all came tumbling out. Nat’s training, me needing to get back to Laura. Natasha turned to me, there in those vents, with the air stifling hot and the food running out…“We’ll get you back home, Agent Barton.” I looked at her, this young woman with startling red hair and dead eyes, and made a promise of my own. “We’ll find you a home, Agent Romanoff.”

Slowly, slowly, those blank eyes regained their spark.

And now something is threatening to take it away again. I will not let this new Red Room, if it is that, destroy the light in my Tasha's eyes.

So I don’t sleep. I stay awake, powered by caffeine and pizza and pure determination. I research, call in old favours, compare files and data and so, so many numbers. If these kids have anything to do with a Red Room, I will know. And if it isn’t…I want it to not be something so bad. I want to walk up to Tasha and tell her that she is safe, that these monsters will never hurt her again. But first, I have to make sure.

By the time the faint rays of dawn are spilling through the tiny window (that I usually use as a door) at the top of my office, I have dug up every single piece of information about the Di Angelos.

There were three Di Angelo's registered with the Italian government at the time of world war 2, a Maria Di Angelo, age 32, and her two children, Bianca Di Angelo, age 12, and a Nico Di Angelo, age 10.

Nico Di Angelo was alive in Italy over 80 YEARS ago.

The hotel that Maria and her children were staying in exploded…and that was it. Dead end.

Except, clearly it wasn’t the end, because we have a Nico Di Angelo here, in modern day. No birth record that would add up, no medical files, no sightings, no nothing. Officially, in every sense of word, this kid died 85 years ago. A fiery, tragic death.

What the hell is going on here?

****
The phone rings three times before it picks up. I slam the office door shut and press the phone to my ear.

“Dad!” Nate’s small voice blasts from the speakers.

“Hey kiddo!” A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. “How’s it hanging, little man?”

“Good.”

“It’s good?”

“Yeah.”

“What have you been doing today, Natey?

“We made bread!”

“You made bread? That’s amazing, kiddo!”

“I know.”

“Hey kiddo, is Mama there?”

The sounds of shuffling and bare feet on wooden floors fill the speaker. “Thanks Natey.” Laura closes the bedroom door behind our son. “What’s up, Clint?”

“I need some advice.”

“Work stuff?”

“When is it not?”

Laura laughs quietly. Something inside of me relaxes at the familiar sound.

“A couple of days ago, we were fighting these creatures in Manhattan…”

Laura listens as I fill her in, and I hear the scribbling of pen on paper as she takes notes on the situation. It’s an old habit of hers, from way before we first met.

“So the kid, Nico, he was alive 80 years ago?”

“I mean, Cap was. We know it can be done, that’s for sure.”

“That is, if the records are accurate. For all we know, it could be a great-grandparent or something. The name could be passed down generations and the systems never picked up on it. If they started up in the 40s, mistakes could happen.”

My wife is the most intelligent being in the entire multiverse. No, I will not be taking criticism. Fight me.

“You’re probably right. I just don’t want to assume it’s nothing if it does turn out to be something, you know?”

“I do. Call a team meeting, but go into it giving the kids the benefit of the doubt. Worst comes to worst, there’s two of them and a lot of you.”

I sigh. “I really hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Me neither. Tell Nat we love her, okay?”

“Will do. Love you, honey.”

“Love you, Clint.”

I gently throw the phone onto my desk, rubbing a hand across my face. Unable to decide whether this is a bad idea or not, I press a com button in the wood.

“Fury, this is Agent Barton. We need a whole team meeting. Now.”

—---------------------------------------------—
This is a bad idea, my whole head screams at me as I pace down the halls to the conference room.

There are so many ways this could go wrong, it tells me. The door slides open. I take a seat at the long meeting table.

They’re just kids. The other seats full up with Avengers. Natasha gracefully slips into the chair next to me, giving me a weary half-smile.

Fury stands from his place at the head of the table. “We all seem to be here, so let’s not waste another moment. Agent Barton asked me to call this meeting because he came across some new information regarding the teenagers currently staying with us. Agent Barton, if you will inform the group of what you found?”

I swallow nervously. “Okay, so basically, I ran Nico Di Angelo’s name through our database…and it’s like he doesn’t exist. No birth certificate, no hospital file, no nothing. The only thing that came up was…”

I trail off. This is the piece of information that will make or break this whole situation.

“Was what, Clint?” Steve asks, frowning.

I stare at the floor. “The only thing that came under Nico Di Angelo was a 10 year old boy of the same name living in Italy. In the 1940s.”

There it was. No taking it back now.
The room filled with dead silence. Tony sat forward in his chair.

“You mean to tell me this kid is from the 40s?”

I don’t answer.

Steve frowns again. “I’m from the 40s, Tony.”

Tony rolls his eyes dismissively. “Yes, but you were a government-made super soldier who was frozen in ice for 80 years after you crashed your plane fighting a literal German officer with a red skull. The time jump is hardly the strangest part of your story, Capsicle.”

Sam turned to him. “So we know it’s possible then.”

“But what’s the chances of another person from that exact time being frozen in ice for the same amount of years as Cap?” Rhodes asked.

“Around 0.349%, Colonel.”

“Okay, what Vision said. That doesn’t seem very likely, does it?”

“With our luck? The kid’s probably plotting to take over Earth..again.”

“We don’t know that, Tony.”

“Alright everyone, shut the hell up!” All heads turned to Fury, who was glaring daggers.

“Yes, the likelihood of Mr. Di Angelo being from the 40s is low. The Likelihood of him and Mr. Solace becoming threats is low. But I’m not willing to take that chance.”

I stand up, barely holding myself back from screaming. “Not willing to take that chance? What are you going to do, arrest them now? You have no evidence, or do we not need that anymore? Are the Avengers just going round detaining anyone and anything that could be deemed a threat?”

“Calm down, Agent Barton. I wasn’t suggesting we arrest them.”

“Then what were you suggesting, Director?”

That’s the first time Nat has spoken this entire meeting, and her tone is unreadable.

“I was suggesting, Agent Romanoff, that we ascertain the nature of their goals in a safe and controlled way.”

“What does that even mean?”

Bruce answers me before Fury can, the slightest green tinge appearing around his neck. “It means he wants to invade their minds.”

“What?”

All eyes turn to Wanda. She stares at Fury.

“And when, exactly, were you going to tell me this?”

“I will not force you to do anything, Ms. Maximoff. I’m simply proposing-”

“No. You’re not proposing. You’re ordering. I know the difference.”

I’m the slightest bit proud of the venom in her voice. Standing up to the Director is no easy task.

Steve hesitates just the smallest amount before speaking. “I think I understand, Wanda. When you first met us, you did something to our minds that showed our greatest fears. If you did a similar thing to Will and Nico, we could see what they truly want - we’ll know if they’re a threat to us, and how to negate any plans they might have.”

“Oh, so now they have ‘plans’? Do you hear yourself, Rogers?”

Steve doesn’t meet my eyes. Looking around the room, neither does Tony.

A flash of guilt crosses Fury’s face. “All in favour?”

Steve silently raises his hand, quickly followed by Tony and Rhodes.

I glance around in disbelief.

Sam raises his hand.

So does Vision.

Bucky turns to Fury. “You wouldn’t be…changing anything in their minds, right? You’re not getting rid of any memories?”

“No. We would be strictly watching, not interfering.”

Bucky raises his metal hand. “I’m going to hold you to that, Director.”

“So will I.” adds Bruce.

Pietro glares. “You will not force my sister to do it, correct?” His tone makes it clear that it is not a question.

“Correct. This whole process can only go ahead with Ms. Maximoff’s consent.”

“Then I am in.”

“You know where I stand.” I spit out, breathing heavily.

Nat meets my eyes. “I’m not voting on this.”

“Wanda. Please.”

I was all for protecting Nat, for asking the kids a couple of questions, but this? This is too far. This is an invasion of two teenager’s privacy.

Wanda inhales a shaky breath, gaze glued to the table.

“I’ll do it.”

Chapter Text

BRUCE'S POV

Wanda’s fingers brushed the sides of our temples in turn, and then we were falling. Falling together, all eleven of us Avengers and Director Fury, tumbling into the darkness. It was strangely peaceful, like the world was going quiet for a moment. I didn’t even feel the other guy stir beneath my skin, even though we were hurtling towards the ground. My mind immediately runs some analysis; my going theory is that maybe he’s smarter than I give him credit for - he could know that this is all in our heads.

Although the sensation of free-falling feels all too real.
We hit the water, and I keep telling myself that this isn’t real, this isn’t real, and I have nothing to fear. The Avengers' feet are planted firmly on the floor of the hall outside Nico’s room, ready to run in and ‘save’ them once we are finished here. Oh boy. I’m going to have to show every single one of my most trusted friends my deepest, darkest fear. I don’t even think I fully know it myself.

Here’s hoping it’s clowns.

Years upon years of practice of keeping my pulse low and my every anxiety under control let me suck in a final breath of water without too much panic.

It’s not real. It’s all in my head.

Everything I’ll see will be all in our heads.

Wanda’s signature red crept across my eyes, and when I regained my sight, we were all floating in a clear, blue sky, miles above the ground.

From the far right of the group, I hear a gasp of breath, like a dying person suddenly coming back to life. All 12 heads turn to see Will and Nico, clinging to each other, gulping shaky breaths of air. Nico has a white-knuckle grip on Will’s shirt, and Will is wrapping his arms around him, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Fury stepped - floated, technically - up to the pair, playing his role to a T. “It appears we are under some kind of psychic attack. We don’t know who is responsible, or what is going to happen next, but I’m betting we’ll find out soon enough. Brace yourselves.”

Both boys paled slightly, but nodded. Nico glared at the empty air with enough resolve to scare Ultron into apologising for trying to destroy humanity. Will entangled his hand with Nico’s, squeezing it softly.

Nat and Clint seemed to be having some kind of telepathic conversation (they tend to do that), Tony and Rhodes are whispering something I can’t quite make out, but sound an awful lot like ‘you’re my best friend.’ Bucky has a death grip on his metal foreman, his eyes wide, and Steve is…rubbing very slow, very gentle circles on Bucky’s back. Good. I know what it’s like to not be fully in control of yourself - I didn’t really have anyone to help, but I’m very glad Bucky has Steve. Pietro has wrapped his twin sister in a hug, and Vision has a hand on her shoulder. She looks determined…all three of them do.

And then I see Sam.

The Falcon's face was noticeably pale, his eyes wide and chest rising with far too quick breaths. One of his hands had a white-kunckle grip on his shirt, tense and…waiting, for something to happen.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Suddenly, a shape appears on the horizon, getting closer and closer. A one-man jet, like the ones used in the military. I can’t see the pilot, but Sam lets out a tiny, terrified sigh at the sight. The jet flies under us, curving and ducking through the air like the entire sky is its personal playground. I smile, the carefreeness of it rubbing off on me. And then I see the bullet.

It comes out of nowhere, just calm, empty blue skies, a pilot enjoying the freedom of it all, and then the plane was jerking sharply to the side, and then it was falling.

Sam screamed. His wings spun into action, flapping desperately, but he wasn’t moving. He was trapped by some invisible force, watching the jet get smaller and smaller as it tumbled towards the unforgiving earth. He fought, disengaging his wings and simply trying to fall with it. He dives down, speeding to the jet…it’s not fast enough. All the tech, all the training, and he still never could’ve made it in time.

I remember something Sam had told me a long time ago, when he was still new to the team.

His wingman, Riley.

It was like he was up there just to watch.

And then, something else falls from the sky.

Someone else. A woman, a couple of years younger than Sam. In her arms are two little boys. Even from so far away, we can still hear Sam’s screams.

Riley’s jet nears the ground.

The woman is holding onto her kids as tight as she can.

He has to pick.

The plane explodes as it smashes into the ground.

Sam’s hand brushes the tip of the woman’s.

She falls.

It was like he was up there just to watch.

The air sky gives way beneath us all, and I barely have time to hope it’s not me hope it’s not me hope it’s not-

We land in a cottage by the sea.

Chapter Text

BRUCE'S POV

A delicate wind-chime sways softly in the breeze from the open window, the nostalgic smell of salt and sea-spray drifting in from the rolling waves a little ways across the sand. Somewhere in the kitchen, I hear a kettle boiling. Before I am smart enough to bury them deep in my mind, overwhelming feelings of comfort, of warmth, of peace fill my lungs. I don't think I've ever felt a peace like that in my entire life.

I feel safe.

I can't help but wonder who's vision this is.

I can't help but long for this place, this feeling, to be mine.

Turning on the spot, I try to find the others, but I appear to be all alone.

At least something here is familiar.

I resist the urge to fidget with the hem of my sleeve, trying to ignore the budding anxiety building in my gut. Okay, Bruce. There's time for emotions later. For now, think about this logically.

I don't recognise the cottage or the surrounding tussocky fields, but there's a high likelihood this was one of the places I holed up doing odd medical work while I hid from myself and the Government. Though, of course, I did neither of those things very well.

But this is meant to show my worst fear, the darkest place in my heart, and nothing that noteworthy ever happened during those lost years, and this definitely wasn't the time or place I met Natasha.

So it's an unknown factor.

Whatever happens next.

The rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock on the wall suddenly seemed far too loud, like each second was driving a sledgehammer into my brain. I gulped.

Unknown factor - who was I kidding? Everybody knew how this would go - I did, the others, watching invisible from the sidelines did, even Will and Nico, who had met me less than four days ago did. They probably wouldn't delve to watch it play out.

They had seen the other guy enough times.

The clock ticked. It looked so fragile, so beautiful hanging up on that wall.

I looked around. Everything here was so beautiful. And so breakable.

My hands shook.

I didn't deserve a place like this.

A home like this.

I would ruin it.

The clock ticked.

I would ruin it all.

Because I ruin everything-

The kettle shrieked.

I screamed.

TONY'S POV

The house was trashed. Bruce didn't even hulk out, it just...happened. One moment, he was staring at the clock on the wall, and the next...

There was shattered glass all over the floor, but Bruce seemed to notice it. Actually, I don't think he could notice anything right now.

I wanted to go to him. Palace an arm around him, wrap him in a hug, say something to make this all go away. But I couldn't do anything.

My lab partner had his hands over his ears in the middle of the broken house, screaming, and I couldn't do anything.

I smashed my hands against the invisible wall keeping us separate from him. Keeping me separate from him. I punched it with enough force to drop a grown man, but that wasn't working so I slammed my shoulder into it again and again and again and again-

And that's when Bruce looked up. I wanted to cry as his eyes darted around the ruined room.

I threw myself at the wall in one last ditch effort to do something to stop this. A scream built up in my throat, but I made no sound.

It was like the universe wanted me to hear every agonising part of what came next.

Desperate tears slipped down Bruce's face as his gaze landed on the elegant wind-chime, now snapped clean it two.

I couldn't do anything to stop the words that spilled from his lips, the defeated look written on his face.

"Why do I destroy everything?"

Chapter Text

STEVE’S POV

Tony wasn’t like the others. Or, at least, that’s what Steve knew Tony told himself every single day. Tony wasn’t a real hero, not like the others. Tony didn’t work for his success, didn’t build himself up from pain and anguish like the others.

No, Tony was a narcissist. A Billionaire, a Playboy, a Philanthropist. All these labels he appeared to wear with pride, and he didn’t even notice how his friends saw past that old facade into the actual Tony with ease.

Tony Stark was a man who liked his shields. Shields from attackers, enemies. The long list of ‘allies’ that would take any opportunities to dig in the knife. The few that already had. Shields from people, from relationships, from allowing himself to trust any further than he could swing.

Steve knew what Tony thought of himself. Steve knew Tony’s deepest fear would not be like the others.

Even so, even knowing that Tony’s would be different, Steve had to blink several times before he truly understood what he was seeing.

Articles. Thousands of them. Newspaper clippings and headlines and gossip magazines, all flashing blindingly bright in the midst of a dark room.

Millionaire Howard Stark & wife Maria announce pregnancy!

Tony Stark: Teenage Prodigy?

Howard and Maria Stark killed in tragic accident.

The demise of the Starks: who’s to blame?

Accident or Assassin? The inside scoop of Howard & Maria's untimely demise…

Stark Industries taken over by founder's young son…

Tony Stark: Boy-genius?

Tony Stark - self-proclaimed ‘Playboy’

The late Stark's son’s true nature revealed!

Stark Industries release new weapon prototypes - latest updates.

Tony Stark, American Hero.

Tony Stark: Merchant of Death…

Stark bombs damage Sokovia city - intentional sabotage or machine malfunction?

Stark Industries making billions: meet the world’s newest philanthropist!

Tony Stark…

Stark does unspeakable…

Tony’s million-dollar mistake….

Tony Stark The Killer

Monster. Murderer. Hero. Villain.

Stark Bombs injure 10…30…80…100…

Puppet. Mastermind.

Murderer.

A bird stops singing.

A bomb crashes through a window. Glass shatters. Somebody screams.

A sitcom laugh track roars to life.

A set of twins, one boy, one girl, drag themselves underneath a bed.

The boy holds the girl as she screams silently. Both of their eyes fall on the eerily spotless silver of the bomb next to them, on the metal bringer of death daring them to move, to breathe too loudly. The girl sees it first - the name printed on its side in neat black print.

Stark Industries.

She turns to the jagged remains of their window, the anguish in her eyes burning into the memory of whoever stands outside it.

No…not anguish. The girl's eyes hold nothing but rage.

“You did this to us. You could’ve stopped this.” Her voice breaks in a way that cleaves his heart in two. “You didn’t! Why didn’t you?!”

The boy glares at him. A streak of white runs through his hair. “You built that bomb. You sent it flying into our lives. And now we are dead! Both of us! We are dead, and you are still alive.”

He wraps his arms around his twin.

“I hope you enjoy your money, Mr. Stark.”

Steve can’t see Tony. Can’t find him. But he can hear what his mind whispers to him next.

“You could’ve stopped this. Saved them, saved countless lives. Now, that would be what a true hero would do.”

Steve can’t see Tony, but he knows what he asks.

“How?”

“It's simple,” the voice smiles sweetly. “The way you could’ve prevented all this killing? The way you should have saved all their lives?”

“Tell me!” Tony gasps. Steve hates the desperation not even hidden in his tone.

“You should’ve gotten in that car with your parents that night. Been the good son once in your lifetime. Been the good son and died alongside them.”

Oh, how Steve hated that voice. He hated the way the words made perfect sense to Tony.

“The only way to stop all this pain? To wash away the blood forever staining the hands you pass off as belonging to a hero? Get rid of the hands entirely.”

Steve couldn’t find Tony, but he felt how his friend’s eyes dulled.

With realization.

And, most of all, Steve hated the fact that he could tell Tony a million times over that this was not his fault, that he was deserving of a second chance, that he was a hero, but nothing he could say or do would make Tony believe him.

Because everything Steve, everything the Avengers were seeing here - it was straight from Tony’s head. That voice, with all its evil whispering and dark loathing…belonged to Tony.

“And do you want to know the best part, Tony Stark? My favourite part? No matter what you do to those hands, no matter if you cover them with the dirt of a six foot grave, the blood will never fade. The palms of a killer are always stained, no matter what kind of hero they claim to be.”

The vision fades to nothing, but Steve knows it's too late.

He knows those words will forever be carved into the heart of one Anthony Stark.