SING O MUSE

THIS BLOG HAS MOVED!!

avengers muses (steve, logan, bucky, and d.m.) are going to avengerled

dragon age muses (dorian, vann, zevran, and feyn) are going to legendmark

            He laughs. It’s not really funny but he laughs anyway. They were fucked. Steve’s not moving and under a little bit of investigation Clint sees he’s pinned. Yep. They were buckling down for the foreseeable future. Till a heavy hitter comes and digs them out of the hole they find themselves in. Tony was going to bust in and save the day any second and everything’s going to be okay.

          The pitch of static changes again but he’s too tired to care about what was spoken. He can guess Steve just told him he was fine. He just wants to lay here. Rescue will come. He hazily looks up after the tapping to see Steve sign at him. Which he offers a smile and a thumbs up. He had no doubt Steve was okay. Steve’s always okay. He had to be. 

           It’s been a while since they were in a situation like this. But it doesn’t seem out of the ordinary. Clint laughs again when he lip reads a very familiar word. He rolls onto his back and puts hands on his stomach. He needs to keep his pulse down. There’s a familiar pressure in his head, combined with the lethargy he’s feeling he hums out a quiet ❝ Not to add a time crunch to this, because you know I love when we hang out. But my brain is bleeding and if it’s like last time I need a doctor in like under two hours or I’m going to have a stroke. ❞ 

“Remind me to make Tony make you a helmet.” Of course, that would still rely on needing Clint to wear said helmet, but remembering that part is something Steve can do on his own. A little voice that sounded an awful lot like Tony in the back of his head said, pot, meet kettle, but he ignored it.

Steve looked around them again. The precarious pile of cement and rebar around them made it almost impossible to trace what was could be moved and what couldn’t without causing more of it to topple. Even if Steve could figure out where to begin, his leg was still pinned--he could feel his toes in his boot, giving them a little wiggle to reassure himself. Staying calm was key. They had some time. But not infinite time.

He suppressed the flinch that threatened, despite Steve’s reassurance, but just barely.  Good ol’ Charlie boy had given them all plenty of reasons to side eye him lately without that whole can of worms being reopened, after all, that had nothing at all to do with the…With that; something that had been done and dusted and over ages ago at this point.

“They aren’t made up,” he grumbled irritably, under his breath, but took the last spoonful of yogurt, anyway.  Okay, so maybe they weren’t the fate of the earth in the balance serious, he would be the first (last) to admit that, but with as volatile of a mix as was their guestlist, the threat of something going disastrously wrong was very real.  He picked up the decline from Magneto and squinted at it a moment, before digging out the full guestlist to scratch him off.

“I suppose we should be amazed he actually sent a decline.”  Though he was willing to be that had way, way more to do with Steve than Tony.  He struck a line through both Erik’s (real, for the record, they hadn’t sent off an invitation to Magnets, C/O Krakoa or anything) and Charles’s names - and after a short bout of indecision, Hank McCoy’s, as well - he tossed the list aside and leaned back into Steve with a sigh.

“Anyway,” he said, tossing the decline aside, “no one in this bunch is going to accuse me of being too nice about much of anything, much less this.  Half the people on this list are only coming because it’s you that’s asking and I’m not the only member of the superhero club that physically can’t tell you no.”

He was just…The most obvious and long-running.

“Not to mention half of them hate the other half and we - and by we I literally mean we - had the brilliant idea of having it here because you - and by you I mean literally you - are irrepressibily nostalgic - about literally everything.  I’m only asking for a couple of things here, and one-”  He held up a finger.  “Is that we at least get to the reception before…I don’t know.  Red Skull or the Mandarin or - God forbid - Stilt-Man shows up to crash the party.”

He held up another finger.  “Two, the mansion is still standing at the end of it.  That’s it, that’s all.”

“I hope you’re not just marrying me because you forgot to say no.” Steve laughed. They just had a special place for each other--Tony was the exception that proved the rule, in many cases. It was something both of them had in common, a fact that Steve had, for so long, chalked up to friendship instead of love. Oh, there’d been love there, of course. Steve had known he’d loved Tony for a long while. But that was the love between friends, someone he could trust and depend upon. Not the kind of love they shared now, something romantic and binding.

Steve wrinkled his nose at Tony’s accusations. “I’m not the only one nostalgic for this place. It’s gorgeous and it’s been a good home to so many of us. Where else means as much to us--you and me--as the mansion? It’s not like we can all cram into a submarine.” So much time had been spent here, both by himself and with the team. He could still vividly remember the late night talks with Iron Man--secretly Tony, all along of course--huddling around the coffee pot like they were the only two people in the world each other could talk to. And in many ways, for Steve, that had never stopped being true.

“If Stilt-Man shows up to try and ruin our wedding, I’ll eat my shield.” There was no way someone like Stilt-Man or the Trapper was going to show up. Red Skull, on the other hand... He made a mental note to check the recent intel he had on his and Sin’s activities. Because if someone was going to ruin his wedding day, his money would be on them. “That’s an easy list. By your standards, we’ll succeed with flying colors.”

Steve kissed Tony’s cheek, giving his middle a squeeze as he went back to resting his head on Tony’s shoulder.

There was a brief pause.  “To be perfectly honest, I don’t really know.  This was a massive city, but I don’t know how much has collapsed and what work arounds we’ll have to take to reach the other side.”

He took the potions, tucking them away in his own pouches (the one for disease with some not-so well-hidden chagrin because they both knew he was painfully familiar with it at this point, given his terrible luck with vampires in his work with the Dawnguard).  It would have to do; he hadn’t brought much himself, having the intention to rely on his sword arm instead of magic for the most part, and falmer or no, had had no intention of lingering in what amounted to a mausoleum. 

“Etienne was certain it was a large enough camp to make it slow going for one, but small enough to be handled by two.  Then again…”  He trailed off, gesturing.  Again, the College mage wasn’t the most reliable sources at the best of times; too distracted with his own doings, as Tnathas saw it.  Too busy poking at things probably better left alone. 

“So, we’ll see what we see once we go deeper.  If we have any kind of luck at all, the amuniculi will have kept the main thoroughfares clear of them.”  But he gave the doors beyond the stone walkway a doubtful look; that hadn’t been the case in most of the Dwemer cities he’d already delved into, and he wasn’t holding his breath for that to be the case now.  “We should get moving, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

Then again, Etienne’s judgement could be found lacking. Frequently whenever they got advice from him, they wound up in more trouble than they’d originally bargained for. So far, nothing had caused them great pain, but that spoke more to their skill than to Etienne’s estimations. Still, this was important to Tnathas, and thus, important to Sven.

“Lead the way, Thas.” Sven shifted his shield back onto his arm, keeping his eyes peeled. The pair of them could easily see in dim light, so the bit of light emanating from some of the still-working lights was more than sufficient. Their footsteps were quiet on the stone. Sven kept part of his attention behind them, knowing that the Falmer here now knew these places better than Tnathas. They could easily get surrounded, and Sven didn’t fancy having to fight their way back out.

That was the million dollar question, right?  Luckily, he was both a billionaire in the literal and the metaphorical sense, and thus able to make a very good educated guess and - also metaphorically - write that check without breaking a sweat.

Mostly.  If he was wrong there was the slight chance that it could be disastrously horrible and it was Bucky’s ass on the line and in the crosshairs, which was why he was less than thrilled this time to be playing Q to Bucky’s Bond.  Sure, this wasn’t his gig, not officially, he understood that, but this kind of thing was his strength and also he would ideally like Bucky to come home unscathed and in one piece.  For selfish reasons.

“Maybe nothing, maybe a huge, catastrophic explosion that takes out a city block, it could go either-”  There was a split second pause, the only sign he gave that his heart had literally stopped at the noise before kicking into high gear.  That had sure been a gunshot.  But no immediate and devastating boom as a follow-up.  “Please tell me you did not shoot the speaker.  It literally could have vaporized you, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of invested in keeping you as a solid, not a gas.”

But that could actually give him the advantage he needed to cut power to the other and get his sight back.  Especially if they weren’t going to explode.

“When you get home,” he said, a little tartly, as he dove back in on his attempts to worm his way into the system, “I’d say we’d have a long talk about me being the needy type that needs you to actually not get blown up, but I’ve seen how C-4 happy you get, so I know it’ll be in one ear and out the other.  So instead I’m going to make you watch me make a grilled cheese the Tony Stark way.”

Bucky didn’t have a whole lot of time to either defend himself against both Tony or the guys shooting at him. So he chose the guys shooting--it seemed like good choice at the time, considering getting shot would get him into even worse trouble than not. So he ran towards the two guards, sliding at the last second and taking one out at the knees before popping up and hitting him hard across the face with his metal arm. One guy down, another to go--Bucky stomped on his wrist to get him to let go of the gun before repeating the same move from earlier to knock this guy out.

Having a metal hand really came in a log of use.

Now free from bullets attempting to hit him, Bucky took a deep breath and looked at the guards. Both had badges on the front. Just his luck. Grabbing one, he quickly began jogging down the hallway, hand coming up to press at his comm. “Hey! Take it easy! I was being a good boy, had my guns holstered and everything. You can thank chucklefuck one and two for shooting at me and missing. No need to pull out the worst crimes against our kitchen possible.”

He’s trying to make light, but he really doesn’t like going into all this blind. They’d gotten intel ahead of time, but he’d been relying on the fact that Tony would have eyes on him to help him out with this whole thing. Not knowing the blueprints or where his goal lay was starting to stress him out. Jogging down the hall, he paused at the first door that needed a badge, using the one he’d picked up and poking his head in before circling back for the bodies of the guards he’d knocked unconscious. Best to hide them in here for now, at least.

Well.  That sounded like it hurt.  Good, honestly.  And he shouldn’t even condone that much, but it makes a point.  This guy wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in the back of his head (if he hadn’t come armored up, anyway), and better to make him painfully aware there are those in this little group that aren’t opposed to the idea of wasteland justice before Steve ever gets within range of him.

“It’s on my to do list.”  He’s been looking into irrigation systems, the idea of combining them with water purifiers, greenhouses - anything to keep irradiated water off of crops as can be managed with the resources available to them.  Because Logan’s right, the idea that they could hold people in some fashion, even for limited amounts of time, verges to unfeasible with things the way they are now.  Food, clean water, shelter, it’s all one big pressing issue that’s hanging around his neck like a millstone.

But he and Steve, they’re still Avengers.  And Avengers don’t kill.  Not without exhausting every other option available.  That’s just a simple fact.

“Steve’s going to try, whether anyone stands behind him or not.  You know it.  I know it.”  And he doesn’t think he needs to say how well that’s worked out for everyone the last time Tony tried to stand on the opposite side.  He still has that gaping hole in his memory as testament to how badly that had come down.  He folds his arms, glancing back at the trussed up raider, and then to the horizon, to the remnants of old Boston standing against the sky like broken teeth.  “He doesn’t change, not in that respect.  If he thinks he can punch the Commonwealth into submission and back to the rule of law, that’s what he’s going to try to do.  I figure…I’m usually on the wrong side of this kind of thing.  It might be nice to actually follow his lead for once.”

It’s not an endorsement or a sales pitch, just a statement of intent.

He half shrugs, the suit’s servos whirring softly.  Everything here is so quiet.  It’s disorienting, every time he realizes he’s standing in a place that used to be a part of a thriving city.  “Besides, is that really so awful of an idea?  Better quality of life, fewer raiders.  Fewer raiders, fewer problems all around.  If we pull it off in any capacity that sounds like a win to me.”

Go figure. Been in the wasteland all of what, a few months? And already Tony has a to-do list and thinks he can fix anything. Of course he does. He’s got Steve Rogers glued to his hip. There hasn’t been a more ideological pair than those two in a few solid centuries, if ever. And of course, wherever Steve Rogers charges ahead, Tony Stark can’t help but dog behind.

Logan breathed out smoke and shook his head. He’s not wrong--if they manage to do all this, get things going again, even slightly like they were in the old days, things would get better for a lot of people. But the getting there... there was going to be a lot of setbacks. A lot of people to defend. A lot of mouths to feed. A lot of burden to bear and as wide a shoulders as Steve had, he was gonna get crushed under all the need these people had.

“Sure. If you don’t die of some disease first. Or a bullet. Or just some real bad radstag.” There was so many things out here that could kill them before any of this got off the ground. “I won’t stop ya’ll, obviously. I’ll help, I guess. Where I can. Built more than my fair share of houses in my time. Farmed a bit, too.”

He’s been alive for way too long.

She doesn’t look impressed with this information. The thought of watching humans falling over themselves for two hours made her frown, but it seemed she had been spared that particular fate. “I’ve been through worse, I can stand a couple hours of light torture.” Her tone is deadpan but the words are meant as a joke. 

The way he said it, ‘it’s Scream’, like she’s supposed to know what that means, but she lets it go. She’ll find out soon enough. “Pip had it once, but he ate the whole thing in a flash. Said it goes well with his beer.” In her opinion, Pip drank enough and didn’t need the encouragement, but he was far from her now. Speaking of, she accepted the beer Logan handed her. 

“So, this is it? This is what you do in your free time?” She could sharpen her blades or run through some training exercises. It seemed like a waste.

Logan snorted. Some movie nights definitely felt more like a few hours of light torture than others. Tonight hopefully wouldn’t be, but it was hard to gauge what the alien crowd would find interesting in human media. “That it does. It should be here soon, which is probably when everyone else will get here. Food’s a good motivator for this crowd.”

Logan shrugged at her question, taking a moment to sip his beer. “It’s what we do to bond as a team in our down time. There’s trainin’ and shit that we do too, and everyone does their own things durin’ the week. Just about everyone’s got a day job they gotta make money with. But this is just everyone’s chance to blow off some steam.”

wasp takes in his words.   timing.   timing is everything they say.   a game of cat and mouse.   a game of intrigue.   how many times had jan planned her own attacks during social events and parties?   were their two quests not similar?

tiny hands grip his vest,   world tilting and rushing by.   the wasp clamps her mouth shut,   the feeling of falling rushing through her stomach and her throat.   tiny hero works not to scream in delight and terror.

when they settle,   she flits into the air,   buzzing around the main room.   “communications,   letters,   data.”   she says.   “evidence to point towards who’s in charge of this little operation.”   jan looks over her shoulder,   waiting for confirmation.   she doesn’t know if the the soldier can see her subtle movements.

Bucky nods. They figure out who’s in charge here, they can bypass all the goons at this site and make a b-line straight for the person in charge. Not that they can’t do things the old fashioned, fist sandwich way, but if they have the chance to do things quietly and elegantly, they should. To save their fists, of course.

“I’ll take this desk and computer.” He walked towards the one he’d claimed, pulling off his metal thumb and revealing a thumb drive. Pun completely intended, thanks to one Mr. Tony Stark. While his thumb copied everything on the computer, Bucky began rifling through the papers on the desk.

It’s a double-edged sword:  On the one hand, it’s very gratifying to be known so well, and when it comes down to it, Steve probably knows him better than anyone.  That Steve can read him better than he’ll ever admit to, because it’s handing Steve ammunition - like he doesn’t have a ton of that already.  On the other hand, it’s incredibly frustrating, that Steve reads him so well he just knows.

He gives the bridge of his nose an extra hard pinch in childish spite, and immediately regrets it.

What Steve fails, overall, to understand - and this makes Tony the world’s biggest hypocrite, he knows it does - is that it’s not a question of if he can take it, or if he’s a big boy, or if it’s what they signed up for and a risk they all take and an acknowledgment they’ve all had to come to.  It’s that he pulls that rational, level-headed, aw shucks shit when he does.  Whether it’s being lightly stabbed, or jumping out of airplanes with no chute, or whatever dumbass decision he’s made that day, it’s always - always! - exactly this thing.  Where he acts like you’re being silly because you worry.

Well.  Tough shit.

“I love you more than literally anything.”  It’s said as he rubs that spot between his eyes where he’s pinched too hard.  Steve probably knows he’s doing that, too.  “But I reserve the less-than-exclusive right to be annoyed at your cavalier attitude.”

Hypocrite! the voice in the back of his head sing-songs, sounding remarkably like Carol.  “Ride or fly.”

“How gently will you carry me in your big strong iron arms?” Now’s probably not the time to continue being a smart mouth, but the words are out of his mouth before he really has a chance to self-edit. Just another sign that he’s tired and should get home already.

Steve sighed through the phone and his voice dropped the energy it had previously carried. “Whatever is faster and easier on you.” It was said calmly, and like an apology. Because he knew that this was no doubt stressing Tony out. And neither of them needed to be that stressed when they also had a child to take care of.

Well that was super mature.  Super.  But Tony was going to magnanimously overlook it for the moment, because they had bigger problems.  Like maybe not being crushed to death in an elevator in a funhouse of horrors brought to you by the Four Winds.  It was a trap for Deadpool and they’d fallen right into it.  Who knew a group of land-grabby supervillains incorporated would go for the ol’ squeezed elevator routine.  Great, right?  When they got out of this Tony had plans to absolutely kick that fucker’s ass up to his ears just for existing.

“No time.  Gonna have to brute force it.  Get against the wall and stay there.”  He was pretty sure he could force them upwards out of the vice.  Like…Seventy percent sure, which was better than no percent sure any way you wanted so slice it, but that scenario as a whole would play out better if Logan wasn’t bitching about Tony stepping on his toes or something.  He hovered upward, to brace both hands against the ceiling of the elevator, and then opened the throttle of the jetboots slowly - he wanted to push them upward not punch completely through the top - and there was a groan of metal against metal as he slowly metaphorically turned that tap open a little wider bit by bit.  A lurch.  Two.  The filters of the suit picking up the distinct composition of ozone as metal sparked off of metal.  He leaned further into it, bringing a shoulder into it, as well, trying to ignore the sick crunching sound of the sides of the elevator cart buckling as the screeching, slow slide grew louder the more throttle he put into going up…

And then the resistance was gone, and there as a heavy metallic thud almost too close beneath them.

He pushed open the escape hatch in the ceiling and dropped back down to the floor, making the crumpled cart wobble alarmingly.  “Ding, seventh floor, housewares.  After you.”

Was this the most dangerous thing he’d ever done? No, not by a long shot. Was this the most annoying thing he’s had to do in recent memory? Yes. So much yes. Wade owed him big time. Asking Tony had seemed a good idea at the time, and he supposed it was a decision that was still holding up, but that was closer to Iron Man than he ever really wanted to get again. Technically the suit didn’t smell, but that internal exhaust had to vent somewhere.

Logan stepped aside. He would’ve preferred to just cut the thing in half and jump out, but bringing Tony along meant doing things his way, because he’s the brain and Logan’s the muscle. Or something like that. Granted this whole thing wasn’t supposed to really need a big brain--again, trap for Deadpool.

“What a gentleman. I think I’m gonna barf.” Not from the elevator ride at least. Logan pried open the elevator doors before stepping out, taking a look down the long and empty hall. Oh yeah, because this didn’t just scream “trapped hallway meant to kill.” “Yer scanners got any intel on this thing, or should I just run through as fast as I can?”

                  ❝ Appreciated. ❞  Baby’s were hard to lip read. It was all unclear and messy. A lot of lip reading normally is also assuming things on context. Kids have no context for anything they say and sometimes it’s just sounds. ❝ uh, hi. ❞ He pauses for a moment and waves a small hello, before signing very slowly, two fingers in the air and twisting for uncle, and then dropping those two fingers over his eye for his chosen name sign. He doesn’t expect it to take but he now has the amazing idea of all the terrible signs he could teach the kiddo. 

                   He watches her tottle away and scratched at his stubble ❝ Finally have the American dream, Cap? The wife, the kid, the car, the big house on the hill with the picket fence? ❞ It’s all said in his usual light teasing tone but eyes hit Steve hard with the unsaid question. Are you happy?

Halley paused to watch Clint’s hands before giggling. She looked down at her own little hands, carefully folding down the middle and ring finger of one hand before running full tilt at Clint and ramming her little sign hand into his chest. More giggles, before she turned and did the same to Steve, and finally Lucky.

“She kinda gets it.” They were teaching her some sign language. It was coming in handy, as she was able to give some very rough signs. “Love you” and “I want” were the two big ones right now, which was cute in its own way. Looking over at Clint as he asked his question, Steve caught the meaning without needing it put into words.

“I don’t know if I’d call Tony my wife, but...” He looked over at Halley again, playing with Lucky’s ears. There was just something... right, about all of this. A peace he’d never in a million years thought he’d get. The house, the money, it could all go away, but Tony and Halley? He’d never been happier with how his life had been. “Yeah. I’m good. I’m really, really good.”

        AREN’T WE A PAIR, HUH BUCK?  Head laid back against the couch and he tried not to get annoyed with Bucky, but damn, he hates talking about this.          ❝ Sounds like like you’re getting old there, Barnes. ❞        He eyed Bucky with a raised eyebrow. Wow getting help? Sure, he’ll get right on that. He rolled his eyes and sank further into his couch.       ❝ Waste of time. And for the record, I ain’t got nothing to fix. ❞       He huffs and pointedly takes a swig of his bottle. Stubborn as ever.

         ❝ Your back’s fucked. Not going to get any better. My hearings only going to get worse to the point where my aids won’t help shit.  ❞         There’s a dark bitterness in his voice. Only let though because Bucky already knew this act and saw straight through it. Though he accepted his Deafness a long time ago, there were some things he still clung onto and it was damn scary to think of letting them go just yet. God help him if he forgets what their voices sound like, what his own sounded like.         

                                                           ❝ I’m not ready.  ❞ 

        ❝ I think I’ll pass. I’ll keep fighting and hiding and maybe this year they’ll just give up.  You could help me out by telling me how close Steve is to closing in on my location. I was thinking about how this building has a three sixty view from the roof. He comes in on foot could smack him with a tazer arrow before he hits my sidewalk.  ❞           Clint shrugged.

Bucky flicked Clint’s shoulder. “You’re older than I am, technically. Getting frozen keeps the years off a bit.” But not by much. And frankly, at this point, it didn’t matter. They all had rough lives and the superhero business didn’t make it any easier. Joints got fucked, you got shot, you kept running and fighting well past when you should’ve. It’s all in the job description and why so many of them can’t make it.

“You could get more help, though. Sure, it’ll take a dip, but... we got some real smart, real kind friends. It could give you a bit more time, if you wanted it.” He got it, in a way. Their bodies were gonna fail no matter what. It’s the age as much as it is the mileage. In some ways, trying to stall out the inevitable was just gonna make it all worse. But it wasn’t like Bucky to take things without a fight. Wasn’t much like Clint, either.

“Okay, not the kind of roleplay I’m usually into, but I can work with that.  Why, are you playing the part of the ridiculously handsome extractor with the unfairly good hair, come to rescue me?”  He presses the back of a hand loosely to his forehead and faux-swoons a moment, giving Bucky an exaggerated fluttering of his eyelashes.  His voice drops almost a full octave, purposely, with, “Oh, Winter Smolder.  I’ve been expecting you.”

He manages a straight face for a full two seconds after that, before snorting a laugh.  “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just-  Okay.”  The hand against his forehead drops to scrub at his face a moment, pushing that whole thing aside to at least try to be serious, because in reality, it’s actually a pretty serious question.  It’s not a hypothetical, he knows that, even if he doesn’t know all the details (though sciencey things and bad acronym at least give context away).  This is still a very real person in a very bad situation who will have to hide from very bad people.

“How niche is niche.  Is it…Similar if not exact things happening in biochem in labs all over the world niche?  Or you can pick out Tony Stark’s wiring style a mile away if you know what you’re looking for niche.  Because that’s gonna matter.  If they’re the only one doing it, then it’s a negative ten, what, do you think this quote unquote bad guy acronym doesn’t read the journals?  How do you think they recruit?”

He knows he’s dropped enough details so that Tony can understand this is more real and less hypothetical, but much more than this, he doesn’t really want to say. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Tony--he does, with everything, even this. He’d pull Tony in more if he could. But the people reaching out to him would get scared off by a big name Avenger helping out, even if Tony was probably one of the more forgiving types. Bucky smiled, though, at Tony’s little swoon, laughing at both himself and at

Bucky sighed, nodding. He’d figured as much, but his extract kept trying to say otherwise. But half the reason AIM had picked her up was because of her research, and the only reason they’d been able to keep her in was because her kid had been so sick. They fucked themselves over by butchering the kid’s care, and now it’s a mother looking out for her own.

A long time ago, Adam had stayed on Earth with his Infinity Watch. The Mole Man’s castle on Monster Island, while it had been a generous offer at the time, was a far cry from the building he now stood on. 

Adam followed Steve inside as the two continued to converse. “So long as no animosity remains, I have hopes that my stay will remain pleasant. Peter mentioned that a standard rotation is a few Earth months, give or take, but if I sense an issue that needs my attention I may leave sooner.” Unlike most, he did not require assistance to travel through space, and there was always the possibility of his cosmic senses picking something up. “I’ll strive to warn you if that happens.” 

His room in the castle had been minimalist, containing only a bed and an orb gifted to him by Eternity. He could not imagine a use for five floors, but the Avengers were a large group. 

Adam nodded in consent to Steve’s agenda. “What research and development do the Avengers do?”

“The good thing is, we all understand what it’s like to have misunderstandings or have been on opposing sides. An enemy today could be a friend tomorrow.” He’d already briefed the main team to let them know Adam was going to be around, and to be on their best behavior.

“Understood. We all have our own responsibilities, we all understand what it’s like to have to prioritize. We’re here to help each other and learn from each other as much as possible, but we’ve all had to handle things ourselves from time to time.” If anything, it’s that need to handle personal things that allowed for the team to expand and create the rotations in the first place.

Steve led him down to the dorms, tapping on the one they’d put Adam’s name on. Opening the door, he led the way inside. It was a rather simple room, if large. A bed with nightstands, dresser, and a large window with a sitting area. Off to the right was a full bathroom. “Feel free to make yourself a home here while you stay.”

Tony leaned back into Steve, abandoning the coffee he’d been about to start, to better examine the proffered hand.  Steve was completely full of shit, that was never in question, and he had volunteered to handle that, being the responsible Avenger that he was (and Tony was at least grateful for it, the health insurance paperwork was always a complete nightmare, when you were dealing with a bunch of super people who decided soaking punches like a heavy bag was their life’s calling).  Tony had honestly been dreading that with a fierceness and avoidance, he was retired.  That should have definitely meant no more paperwork ever, despite the fact that he still found himself having to fill out mission reports after every single fight and scuffle and jaywalking incident, because the Avengers were nothing if not thorough with their record keeping.

“Poor baby.  So overworked and underpaid.”  There was a slight touch of rueful humor in his tone, but he graciously conceded and pressed a kiss to each fingertip and then Steve’s thumb with all the gravitas of bestowing a blessing.  “There, all better.”

He leaned back a little further, to press another kiss against the hinge of Steve’s jaw, before twisting so he could turn in his grip.  “Does this mean you actually got Clint to sit through the physical or is he still in indefinite hiding.  Because the last time I suggested it he started throwing lamps at me.”

Steve grinned as Tony kissed his fingertips, a big goofy smile. He kissed Tony’s temple in return. “They just use my mind and never give me credit.” Which is not true, not really. He volunteers his mind for whatever the Avengers need doing, including paperwork since he has the time for it, even if sitting for that long now has him itching to do literally anything else. The paperwork is a bit of an unsung hero’s job, but he gets credit for so many other things, it all comes out in the wash. Still, it’s a nice song.

“Yes, though it was a team effort. Natasha had to lure him in, I wrestled him to the ground, and then Thor put Lucky on his chest.” He’d been in favor of using Mjolnir, but Lucky had the added bonus of all of them getting to pet a dog. Also? Lucky needed a physical too. All that pizza cannot be good for a dog.

PAIN CRAWLS UP HER BACK, SEIZING HER MUSCLES.  a sharp cry echoes from jan’s lips,   nearly missing the confirming words of fellow avenger.   captain america to the rescue.

large hand extends, palm gloved and cushioning her fall.   the tiny hero feels the breath    WOOSH    from her lungs as she grips his fingers for dear life.   they’re still moving,   vaulting away to avoid beams and bullets.   the world shakes and spins until they finally settle.

jan pants, nodded her head.   force of will doesn’t allow the wasp to regain her normal height.   she’s stuck in a small state.   “they must have hit me real good,”   she breaths.  “i can’t do anything!”   a disheartening fact. 

“i don’t want to take you out of the fight,   cap.   but i’m decommissioned for the time being.”

“The safety of my fellow Avengers comes first, Wasp. Just leave the heavy lifting to Thor and Iron Man!” Steve cupped his hand and kept it close to his chest, to best protect Jan. She was so small right now, one of these beams could really do some damage if they hit her. Keeping his shield up, he raced for more sufficient cover, repeating over comms that Jan was down and he was getting her to safety.