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Note/ Welcome to my life since last weekend. Avengers had totally consumed me and I looove it. the next chapters will be shorter than this one (I think) but I'll try and update often, like every other day or so if my schedule permits me. I'm kinda self-conscious about this one because I've only seen the movies and never read the comics or anything so please let me know if my characterizations are okay or not.

also, this was originally like 10,000+ words, but I cut about 3,000 of the intro out because no one really cares about an old man who's only going to be in the story once. x.x so if you saw that on my tumblr, be thankful i didn't keep that part in haha

I plan for this fic to be action-packed, angsty, bromancy and slashy-shippy, all put together in this epic sandwich of sexy mens, but I'm gonna try and keep it as canon as possible. (there will be some crackish/semi-plausible things tho: see my loki/thor scene in this chapter lol) I assure you, practically every ship will happen in this story, they are all so wonderful. SO ENJOY, AVENGERS FANS! FANFICTION, AWAY!

He was insatiably nervous. The feeling of adrenaline rushing to his fingers, making his hands tremble slightly in the evening air. His chest tightened and each breath felt thinner and thinner. He had no idea why he was so terrified, no idea why his spine was tingling. Nothing was supposed to be worrying him anymore, all of his troubles had been settled, everything was supposed to be fine. Yet he could feel every muscle inside him grow tense. He gripped the edge of the covers until his knuckles turned white. Perhaps it was a dream, a nightmare. He took a shuddering breath, knowing that was foolish. He had only gone to bed a few minutes ago, there was no time for him to go to sleep. He wasn't dreaming, he was wide-awake. And he was terrified.

It was as if a metal vice was slowly crushing him, slowly enough that he could pretend it wasn't happening. He'd always been accused of worrying about things too much, little things always stuck with him. If he was insulted, even as a joke, it stuck with him for days on end. He breathed slowly, trying to calm himself. It didn't work. It never worked. He always told people he liked being stressed, that if he wasn't on the job he would be stressing out that he'd forgotten to do something. Everything could stress him out. If someone made plans with him for the next night, he stressed out until he stepped out the door to go meet up. He hated it, but at least it prevented procrastination.

People always reminded him that this life was temporary, a speck of sand compared to eternity. Sometimes that scared him, other times it made him worker harder. The world may be temporary, but it was certainly long enough for him to screw something up.

So there he lay, gripping his blanket like a child, trying to will the stress away from him. The wind began to pick up, and he tried to focus on it and ignore his confused heartbeat. It would speed up, then slow dramatically, only to speed up again. The wind seemed content with his attention, and began to pick up rapidly. Too rapidly. He swallowed, sitting up and releasing the covers from his vice grip. He began to hum as he stood and went to the window to peer outside. The fields' were an ocean of silvery waves as the grasses lashed back and forth in the crushing wind. Thick, dark clouds were gathered above, pregnant with rain. He never really liked storms, especially at night.

A brilliant streak of lightning ripped through the sky, followed almost instantaneously by a boom of thunder. He jumped as the house shook, feeling his breathing escalate. That was close. He thought of his horses, knowing they would be frightened. Luckily, he had put them in the barn for the night; he usually left them to roam the pasture as they pleased. Another peal of lightning flashed and he saw the vein of light connect with the ground. The thunder was deafening, and he stepped back from the window, gripping his bedpost. The rain started in a frenzy, huge droplets slammed into his windowpane. The intense precipitation quickly obscured his view of the field, and he turned away. Another flash of lightning illuminated his quaint bedroom and the sound of a shrill whinny reached his ears. He froze, lurching to the window again, fearing the worst. Had one of his horses gotten out of the barn? He could only imagine the injuries that could ensue if it bolted, pulled tendons, worse, a broken leg. The rain still created a thick haze, but he could see the dark shadow of a horse in the field. He squinted, pressing his face to the glass. Something wasn't right, the horse was much bigger than any of his. He tried to think who it could belong to, but he didn't know of any horse farms close by. The horse reared, splaying its hooves in a triumphant display of its power. The man pressed closer, cocking an eyebrow at the shape on its back. Certainly it couldn't be a person, no one went riding around at three in the morning, especially during a thunderstorm. The horse's hooves returned to the ground, and he swore he could feel the ground rumble.

"Stupid teenagers," he growled under his breath, grabbing his bathrobe and slipping it on as he made his way down the stairs. He was not about to let some neighbor of his get near his farm. They came by his cornfields in the summer and wrecked a good portion of his crop; until he had employed a few guard dogs to keep watch. That had shown them. This kid must've been too stupid to notice the 'no trespassing' signs. He may be fine with letting his dogs get a mouthful of rowdy teenage boys, but a horse was something he refused to ruin.

He pushed open his front door into the howling wind and pressed it shut as he got pegged with needle-like raindrops. He looked towards the field, but saw nothing. He frowned.

"Hello?" he called, but the wind carried his voice away. Another thunderclap answered him, the sound so intense he nearly fell to the ground. This was not the time to be outside. He grumbled curses to himself as he started back toward the house, wiping the rain from his eyes as he did so. He suddenly froze.

The horse was standing in front of him, towering higher than any horse he had ever seen before. Its massive black eyes were trained on him as it danced on its hooves, barely controlled by its cloaked rider. He swallowed, a sinister feeling creeping into the air around him. He could feel the rider stare at him, though the man could only guess where his eyes were in the shadows of his hood. The man's gaze shifted back to the horse and he jumped back. The strong sleek animal it had been just moments before had disappeared, replaced by a horse so thin it looked more like a decaying corpse than a living animal. Its chest pulsed, his heart visibly beating under its skin. The man curled a lip in disgust, stepping away. The horse reared suddenly, and the rider gave it a harsh kick, sending the horse into a swift gallop. The man watched in dumbfounded amazement as horse and rider disappeared into the cornfields, the horse's stride rivaling that of a champion thoroughbred, not the stride of sickly inbred dying of starvation.

The next morning the man woke up and went about his normal duties, eating breakfast, reading the paper and putting on his clothes for a long day's work. He pushed open the door with a foot, still reading the daily news as he made his way to the barn, not needing to look up as he walked. He whistled a little tune to himself as he folded the paper under his arm and slid the door to the horse stalls open. He paused, scenting a sour twang in the air. It was oddly silent in the barn as he entered, not one of his ten horses nickered in greeting. Probably still nervous from the storm, he thought, making his way to the feed room. He lifted his grain scooper and swiped up some grain, or, he tried to. He swiped again, but felt only air. He peered into the grain bin to find that it was empty. Odd. He shrugged and turned to grab a fresh bag from the shelf. All of the bags were empty, crumpled, and deflated. He noticed that there was no feed anywhere, not even a piece of corn for a mouse to snatch up. He thought back to the rider and his dark horse. What thief steals horse feed but doesn't take the feedbag? His pulse quickened, the sense of dread from the night before returning to him. He hurriedly stepped back into the main hallway and ran to one of the stalls. Inside was his prized gelding, a beautiful bay that he'd paid an arm and a leg for. Now it was barely standing, ribs jutting from its side and its legs trembling with fatigue. Its eyes were sunken and bloodshot. He wouldn't have recognized it at all until he saw the little white splotch on its ear. It was his horse all right, but not the one he had left in the barn the night before. His breath quickened. How was this possible? It would take a solid month of no food to get his horses looking that sickly, certainly not a few hours. He checked the other stalls to find the other nine horses in a similar state, barely functioning.

He burst from the barn, looking wildly for any sign of the rider. He was met with a rusty brown cornfield, crackling in the wind in a sea of empty husks. He dropped to his knees in bewilderment as he noticed that all of his fields were dead, his entire crop ruined. In one fell swoop.

"I'm not calling them in again," Nick Fury's voice was firm as he stared out into the city street below.

"You said you would call them if the world needed them. We need them." A sharply dressed man sat at the desk, watching Nick with growing impatience.

"America's agriculture system was doomed to fail sometime. Practically all of our corn is the same gene type, one disease could have easily wiped it out," Nick growled.

"This isn't just corn, its everything. Strawberries, blueberries, peanuts, soybeans, everything. Its not a disease, they just died. There's no pattern, just a mile-wide trail of dead crops," the man drummed his fingers on the desk.

Nick turned sharply, narrowing his eye at the man. "Okay, so if it isn't a disease, what is it?" he demanded.

The man cleared his throat, pulling a piece of paper form his briefcase and reading it aloud, "When the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, "Come and see!" I looked, and there before me was a black horse. Its rider was holding a pair of scales in hand. The I heard what sounded like—"

"Hold on, are you trying to tell me that this is the start of the apocalypse? Are you insane?" Nick rubbed his temple, "You're all insane."

The man's lip twitched, folding the paper and putting it away. "It sounds strange, but we believe that's exactly what's happening. We have one witness, a man named Surly Hansen. He claims he saw a black horse with a rider, seemingly appearing out of nowhere in the middle of a thunderstorm."

Nick chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but you're believing some hillbilly living in the middle of nowhere?"

The man smiled faintly, pulling a stack of photographs from the briefcase. "This was taken a week before the sighting at a horse show in Kentucky," he placed a picture of a gleaming chestnut horse, proudly standing next to an old man. "This is the same horse, two days after the sighting." He pulled out a second picture, one of a horse that looked closer to a skeleton than an animal. Nick shook his head in disbelief.

"Mr. Hansen's entire crop is gone, along with most of the neighbors' living north of him. Whole herd of cattle were starved overnight, including a slaughterhouse that produces a lot of red meat for this nation. The President wants something done about it. We're using our surplus to make sure production stays steady, but we can't keep it up for very long at the rate the fields are dying." The man folded his hands, glaring at Nick with a cold intensity he didn't much like.

Nick pursed his lips, staring down at the photographs. "I don't like this, and I don't think its something that the Avengers need to be called out for. It's a horse isn't it? Why don't you shoot it?"

The man shook his head. "We tried that. It doesn't respond to gunfire, RPGs, we even tried netting it just to slow it down. It burned though everything, it didn't even have to change its stride. It's a difficult situation, we can't fire a missile into the middle of a farm in Iowa."

"But you can send a band of superheros that destroyed New York City? You guys are barely finished with preliminary repairs and you want to send them out again?"

"We need this stopped now, before anything worse gets loose," the man growled.

"Oh right, I forgot, it's the four horsemen, isn't it? Well, where are they?"

"I'm not here to discuss whether or not the Bible has anything to do with this. I'm just here to tell you that we have something dangerous on the loose and it's heading north as fast as a car. A few more days and it will reach a major city and we'll have some real problems when people can't find any food to eat," the man caught Nick's skeptic look and sighed, pulling a final photograph from his briefcase. A jet-black horse, as skeletal as the others, galloping across a field. A rider was perched on its back, carrying a scepter with scales hanging from the end. Behind it, the plants were dead.

Nick blinked, leaning back in his chair. "I'll give them a call. "

The man smiled and began gathering his things; Nick shot a hand out as the man reached for the photograph of the black horse. "But I'm not forcing them to come back."

"Now this, this is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." Tony Stark stared at the screen in front of him, chuckling. "I know you want to see me again, but come on, at least come up with something plausible."

"I don't really believe it either, but whatever it is, it's killing off crops, starving animals and making food disappear. Its something I think we should check out." Nick's voice filled the workshop as Tony fiddled with one of the mini-jet engines in Ironman's boot. He shrugged, his attention turning to the tiny engine in front of him. God were they annoying when they started sputtering.

"Can't someone else take care of this? It's a horse for crying out loud, it can't take that much to blow it to smithereens." He leaned back, pointing into his webcam. "I can arrange that you know, if Big Brother over there is giving you a hard time with the whole, you know...budget thing. "

Nick sighed. "Its not that simple. People will start to panic, NATO will have a fit if we start using missiles, even if it's on ourselves."

"Then we take the horse to them and let them have fun with it," Tony shrugged. He wasn't about to drop everything and go on another mission to stop a possessed horse, apocalypse or not.

"I'll brief you when you get here, you don't know the whole story yet. You might be less inclined to argue with me once you've heard everything."

Tony rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I'm sure." He picked up a screwdriver, but the feeling of Nick glaring at him through the webcam was throwing off his focus. He sighed, placing the screwdriver on the worktable and turning to face the webcam again.

"Who else is coming in?"

"You're the only one I've called."

"Well, I'm flattered," he crossed his arms, then after a moment he shook his head. "Nope. Sorry Nick, I can't do it. You said you'd only call us when you really needed us, and I honestly don't see the threat in...whatever this thing is. Use a missile, blow it up, bam. Over."

"I told you, its not that simple—"

"Yeah, it is. If it's really such a big threat, then you wouldn't hesitate to blow the thing up. A little sacrifice of a few cornfields to save humanity doesn't seem that big of a deal. I only agreed to come back when the world is in danger. Now, if the other guys think it's something we should worry about, call me back."

"Tony," Nick' voice was grave, "I need you to just listen—"

"Ah-ah." He put up a hand. "I don't want to hear it. Bye." Nick started to protest, but Tony tapped the screen, ending the call. He shook his head, returning to his worktable.

"Jarvis...I could use some good music right about now."

"Of course. I'll fetch something suitable from your playlist."

"You're the best!"

The robot didn't reply and soon the sounds of rock n' roll were bouncing off the soundproof walls, leaving Tony Stark to work in peace, blissfully ignoring the rings as Nick tried to call him again.

After a few minutes of work, Jarvis halted the music. Tony looked up, hunched over his sophisticated boot. Pepper was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. He knew that look.

"So, are you just going to keep ignoring phone calls or is that just reserved for me?"

Tony's eyes widened. Shit. He was in a dangerous position, if he finished the final piece he had to replace then she would storm out and start her ranting about his obsession with his "alter ego" as she called it, and if he stopped his work...well the boot wouldn't get finished and he'd still get an earful.

"Jrrrvis," he growled around the screws in his mouth.

"Sorry, I assumed you didn't want to be disturbed," Jarvis answered.

His eyes narrowed and he spit the screws in to his hand, reluctantly placing them next to the boot.

"Sorry, my artificially intelligent robot butler has proved once again that he's unworthy of being called 'intelligent.'"

Pepper pursed her lips, but her eyes softened a bit.

"What'd you need?" he asked, smiling.

"Nick Fury called me a minute ago," she said almost accusingly.

"Whoa, I told him—"

"He said he needs the Avengers back together."

"Yes, and did he tell you I said no? I said no. Really, I'm not kidding. He didn't tell you I said no, did he?"

"He said you refused to help him."

"Well good, I'm glad he's finally started telling the truth to people—"

"Why'd you tell him no?"

Tony opened his mouth, but found himself speechless, not expecting her to angry about it. He cocked an eyebrow. "Well, you told me the whole Avengers thing couldn't get out of hand, that's why."

"Crops dying, animals starving, what else could make it worse? I think it's a perfectly valid reason to join up again," Pepper scolded.

"The whole Loki incident was barely a month ago, it's a bit too soon for the world to be in perilous danger again. I told him—"

"All they need to do is blow it up," Pepper finished.

Tony nodded, "Yup, that's all they have to do." Pepper didn't look like that was news to her. "What do you want me to do? I told him how to fix the problem, I did my 'hero duty' for the day." He looked back to his boot, splayed out like a dissection experiment. "Now, I really need to get back to this."

"Is fixing your suit really more important than saving the world?"

He sighed, putting his hand on his head. "Well, if I can't wear the suit, how am I supposed to save the world?"

"Smartass." Pepper's smile returned, but it was the snarky kind that meant she was going to get her way. "When you're done, you better call him. He said he has a surprise for all of you when you get there."

The throne room in Asgard was as looming as ever, with high arched ceiling of plated gold, intricate carvings wrapping around every pillar and every square inch of palace floor. It was empty most of the day, which is why Thor liked it. No sounds of clinking metal to disturb his ponderings, and no disruptions unless something absolutely necessary came up. He didn't see why it couldn't be that way all the time, why citizens had to hunt him down in his chambers or approach him in the halls to bother him with meaningless problems. They had no idea of the gravity of his duties as king, especially with Loki back in their realm.

His brother had adapted nicely since returning to Asgard, first as a prisoner and then as a citizen. Some of his advisors warned him against letting Loki out into the world again, but Thor knew his brother better than they did. And so far, it had worked; now Loki was acting as his second in command, though Thor's advisors didn't know it. He understood that it would take a long time for Loki cleanse his name, but his actions on Earth at the end of the battle had boded well with the Asgardian populace. But Loki was still malleable and too determined to prove to his brother that he was worthy, so Thor kept him on a short leash.

"Surely there is another species more suitable for me." Loki's voice broke his thoughts. Thor looked up from his spot where he was draped over the throne, bored and staring at the ceiling. Well, he had been. Loki was sitting cross-legged in the center of the throne room, watching a chubby kitten as it pawed a bit of string.

"Nonsense, brother, I think it is quite fitting for you," Thor replied with a chuckle.

Loki flashed him a glare, then turned back to the kitten. "If you had to get me a feline, why not something more…intimidating? A jaguar would make an exquisite pet."

"No, no. Earth needs its jaguars, but these little creatures, these are overpopulated as it is."

"I could crush it by speaking too loud," Loki complained, frowning as he watched the tiny fuzzball struggle to get back on its paws. He reached out a hand, picking it up and flipping it right side up.

"You must learn to speak quietly then!" Thor laughed, watching as the kitten pounced on Loki's cape. Loki curled a lip in disgust, and promptly pulled the green fabric away. The kitten jumped up to give chase, but the polished floor was too slick and it tumbled onto its belly. Loki's eyes flashed, but he pulled his cape further away until it was sitting bundled on his lap and away from the tiny claws.

"So cruel, brother." Thor clucked in mock disapproval, shaking his head. Loki rolled his eyes, looking out into the heart of Asgard and all of her splendor. His eyes clouded.

"How do you know they won't kill me for what I've done?" Loki's voice was barely a whisper, but Thor had no trouble hearing him. Thor stood, and with the flick of his wrist Mjolnir was resting in his palm. It had been weeks since his brother had mentioned his actions on Earth, but Thor had seen it lingering in those deceptive green eyes of his.

"They will not kill you because I am your brother and they would not dare to trespass against me."

Loki gave a little snort, pressing a fist to his lips.

"Besides, you are a god, just as I am. They cannot kill you. Now let us go to our evening meal before it grows cold."

For a moment it seemed as if Loki hadn't heard him, but then he slowly got to his feet, though he still looked distracted. Thor frowned, not pleased that his brother was wallowing in guilt. He would never improve if he dwelled in the past, Thor would know.

"Loki, you—"

"Someone draws near." Loki was staring intently at the doorway, eyes narrowing slightly. Thor gripped Mjolnir, but could hear nothing. After a few moments of silence, the sound of heavy footsteps began to sound. Thor looked to his brother, but Loki was still rooted in the spot, brow furrowed.

An Asgardian dwarf appeared, breathing laboriously and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Heimdall has sent me," the dwarf panted, dropping to one knee.

"What has he told you? Speak!" Thor commanded, fearing the worst. Heimdall was a solitary warrior; he did not call attention to anything unless it was necessary.

"He says you are being called. He said to see him immediately."

Thor looked to his brother, who was still staring at the dwarf with uncertainty.

"Our meal can wait. Let us make haste to the bridge."

Thor and Loki dismounted form their steeds, approaching Heimdall, who was standing at the end of the broken bridge staring into the universe.

"Heimdall, why have you called us?"

The gatekeeper turned, his bright orange eyes scanning the brothers. "I sent for you, Thor, not for him." Heimdall's gaze shifted to his brother. Loki flinched. Thor took a definitive step forward.

"Whatever you say to me, you can say to my brother, Heimdall," Thor snapped. Heimdall blinked.

"Of course, your majesty. My mistake."

"Now, what is it that you have seen?"

"The world is once again in danger. The Avengers are being called again."

Thor sighed. "I have not come all this way for a jest." Heimdall merely blinked at him, and Thor felt a quiver of annoyance run up his spine.

"It has not been a moon since our last battle!"

"I assure you, this threat is of great importance to the Earth. Nick Fury awaits your arrival."

Thor scowled, very displeased. How could they be in such dire need so soon? Didn't they remember he had his own kingdom to rule?

"I'll stay." Loki blurted out. "I'll look after Asgard while you deal with them."

Thor shook his head. "Sorry, brother, but you are hardly in the position to make such a call. You will come with me, its time you were assessed in your ability act honorably."

Loki's eyes widened and he went pale, shaking his head. "No. I will not go back there."

Thor put a hand on his brother's shoulder, smiling warmly. "Remember what I told you."

"They can do much worse than murder. I'd rather be put in that box again than set foot in a room with the likes of them," Loki hissed.

Thor cuffed him on the head. "You don't have a choice, you're coming with me."

Loki shook his head, stepping back. "I can't go back there, not yet."

"Perhaps he is right," Heimdall chimed in, "Perhaps keeping him here would be—"

"Silence!" Thor commanded, his voice booming, Heimdall nodded curtly, not daring to open his mouth again. Thor turned to his little brother, feeling his blood boil. He knew what Loki was capable of, and dealing with the Avengers would be nothing compared to dealing with the people of Asgard.

"We depart immediately. Heimdall, tell the others of our whereabouts and ensure that Asgard is clear of unrest while we are away." He turned to Loki once more, feeling a lash of guilt as he saw the terrified look on his brother's face. But this was what was best for him, and if Loki truly wanted to overcome the past, he would have to come in contact with the Avengers sooner or later. He offered a weak smile, but Loki's emerald green eyes were staring wide-eyed at the floor, no doubt imagining the kind of welcome he would receive on Earth.

It had been a long month for the Super Soldier, and quite frankly it had been exhausting. He'd barely scraped the surface in 21st century technology, though now he could operate an "old-fashioned" flip phone pretty well. Texting was still alien to him, and he couldn't talk to much of anyone except for Tony Stark and Bruce Banner about technology because he wasn't really sure if what he was talking about had even been released to the public yet. None of his neighbors knew about flying aircraft carriers, that was for sure. But then again, none of his neighbors knew a thing about technology either, except when their grandkids came to visit.

At first he was totally against the idea of living in a retirement village just outside of NYC, but now he was thankful Bruce was so insistent on it. "Just for the stress, ya know? People your age don't know what's going on technologically, people who look your age do. You'd be the outcast of every social group in New York City." He'd still ended up an outcast, with most of his neighbors offering nothing more than an early morning greeting and giving him skeptical looks as he went for a morning run. He'd decided against telling them his true identity, and it was actually refreshing to be scolded once in awhile, though most of these people weren't even born when he was frozen in time.

S.H.E.I.L.D. took care of all of his expenses, and refused to allow him to get a normal day job, just in case it was targeted by the next threat. It hardly seemed fair that he couldn't have a desk job but Stark Industries could go on expanding and plastering Iron Man on every street corner. But he was never one to question orders, so he spent his time trying to catch up with the world he'd been absent from for seventy years. He hadn't even made it to the 1960s, and every time he opened his history book it felt like he was reading a fantasy novel. America had gone from fighting Germany to Russia, a country he'd barely heard on the frontlines as he charged after Hitler and Red Skull. It still felt like a different reality, and he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night wondering why he couldn't hear the sound of gunfire.

He occasionally got together with Stark for a "night on the town," Stark's version of high-class bar hopping. Steve wasn't really in to getting drunk enough to cause bar fights, given he could kill someone if he punched them too hard. Tony sure didn't care; he would start swinging out of the blue if Steve didn't keep an eye on him. If Tony didn't buy so much expensive alcohol he would probably be banned from every bar in the city, which would be fine with Steve.

He rounded the corner, nearing the final stretch of his morning jog. He ran more out of habit, running was something relatively normal to him, but it never came close to making him tired. Sometimes it was aggravating when he got stares for his sprint-like pace, and he would wish people would just mind their own business. Other times he found himself craving attention and was tempted to stand up and tell everyone that they should be thanking him for saving their lives. But he never did, knowing how dangerous pride could be. Not to mention the very thought of boasting about himself made his stomach churn. He was always pegged as the loyal, responsible one, and it was an honorable position, but sometimes he just wanted to scream at people. Just like everybody else.

"Hello, Mr. Rodgers!" He was snapped from his thoughts, looking to the source of the willowy voice. Gladys Farr, his next-door neighbor, was stooped over in her garden, offering a wave and a smile. She had to be close to 90 years old, but she was the nicest person in the neighborhood. She made sure to greet him whenever he was nearby, and every Friday she left a pile of piping hot cookies on his doorstep when he got back from his errands.

"Hello ma'am," he replied with a smile, slowing his pace as he approached his door.

"I'll be sure to keep an eye on things while you're gone, you can count on me!"

He stopped, cocking en eyebrow. "Oh, no, I'm not going anywhere ma'am."

She shook her head, and motioned to the door. "I'll see you when you get back."

Steve shrugged, figuring Gladys was just having a moment of forgetfulness. He pushed open the door, whistling to himself as he headed for the kitchen. Huh, I thought I locked it this morning.

"About time you got home." He jumped at the voice, searching wildly for the source. If someone was breaking into his house...they were about to be sorely mistaken.

"In the dining room," the voice came again. He groaned, recognizing it as Natasha Romanoff. He stepped in the dining room with a polite smile, but his gaze turned cold as he saw what she was doing. She was poking at the last of his blueberry cobbler he'd bought at the neighborhood charity dinner last week. He'd been it saving for dinner, but now only a lone sugary syrup-drenched blueberry remained. He watched her push it around her plate, deciding whether or not it was worth eating.

"I assume you aren't here for a social visit," he said darkly.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're sitting in my house, eating the last of my blueberry cobbler. That I didn't give you permission to eat. Oh yeah, and you picked the lock on my front door, so you broke into my house to eat the blueberry cobbler I didn't give you permission to eat."

Natasha shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. "Sorry, I didn't think you'd miss it." She popped the blueberry in her mouth, dabbing her lips with a napkin.

"So what are you here for?" he sighed, sitting in the chair next to her. She smiled faintly.

"The Avengers are needed again."

He groaned, resting his chin on his crossed arms. "What for?"

"You'll be briefed back at headquarters. I'm not authorized to talk about it here," she replied with her usual over-professional tone. He really didn't want to deal with intergalactic space aliens again, or whatever else was plaguing the earth this time. But that wasn't his decision.

After a moment, he nodded, "Okay, I'm in."

Natasha blinked. "I forgot you were so...accepting."

"I said I'd come back in if the needed me," he snapped in reply. "Wait a minute, why'd they send you?"

She stood up, shaking her head. "I guess they thought you'd need convincing."

Typical. Leave it to S.H.E.I.L.D. to send the Black Widow to threaten him. They really needed to start cutting him some slack. He was definitely going to have a talk with Nick, sending someone to intimidate him was unnecessary and uncalled for. Natasha tapped his shoulder as she walked by, signaling that he'd better get moving. He craned his head back as he exhaled, staring at the ceiling. At least he'd be able to see some people he knew, though something told him this time was going to be different. Hopefully that mean there wouldn't be so much fighting this time around. He stood up, giving his house one last look before following Natasha out the door.

"Come on, I need to get you back before Tony finds you."

"Why? Is there something wrong?" Steve asked, puzzled. Natasha shook her head, chuckling.

"You'll see what I mean." Steve wasn't quite sure what she was getting at, and the smirk on her lips did nothing to help the situation. Natasha seemed to like that he was getting annoyed, which made him suspicious. He barely worked with her during the last Avengers mission, but she was acting like she was still trying to intimidate him, which he didn't understand. He felt himself tense as they approached a sleek black sports car, but got inside anyway. After all, he was Mr. Obedient, what else would he do?

Bruce Banner peered into the end of a test tube, watching the solution turn from clear to dark blue. He smiled warmly, handing it back to the little boy jumping up and down in front of him.

"That is so cool!"

Bruce laughed, "Its just a PH test, there's a lot more cool stuff in science."

The boy nodded enthusiastically, pressing his nose to the tiny tube to try and see better. "I'm gonna be just like you! A real scientist!"

Bruce smiled weakly. No one wanted to be like him, not even little kids. Even they knew that turning into an uncontrollable green monster wasn't something to look up to. He couldn't help but appreciate the boy's kindness though, and it did feel good to hear someone say they wanted to be like him, even if they were blissfully ignorant of his character flaw.

"That's great. I look forward to working with you someday."

The little boy beamed up at him, then ran back to the huddle of gawking children staring at their own test tubes. His teaching job had started as a joke, well, actually as a bet. Tony had bet him that he couldn't survive in a classroom full of kids longer than he could. Banner was beginning to think Stark has been a little tipsy at the time, considering he hadn't lasted two days once kids figured out he was the real Iron Man. Tony couldn't stand to be away from his "real work" for very long anyway, Bruce could understand that. At one point he would've said the said the same thing, he remembered days when he forgot to eat he was so busy pouring over theorems and formulas. Now things were different. He liked working with kids; they had problems as simple as their water not turning blue for a PH test. He liked the feeling of being in charge, and always being able to answer their questions. Of course, as Tony liked to point out, he could show real scientists all the answers too, but other scientists liked to argue too much. Kids only argued about minor things. He never got stressed here, but he could still feel like he was doing something. It was liberating.

"Excuse me, Mr. Banner?" He looked up to see the school secretary fidgeting in the doorway. He cocked his head, concerned.

"Yes?"

The secretary looked immensely uncomfortable. "Um, Mr. Banner," she swallowed, breaking into an unconvincing smile, "Tony Stark is here to see you."

Tony appeared in the doorway, sporting classy sunglasses and a wide smile. He murmured something to the secretary as he passed and her face turned bright red.

"Thanks." Bruce waved a hand to dismiss her. She nodded before quickly jumping away and vanishing into the hallway.

"Hey, how's the illegal teaching job?" Tony smirked, sidestepping a little boy who went diving after a dropped pencil.

"It's not illegal. I explained that already, I'm just acting as a temporary—"

"Yeah, yeah. Still don't care. " Stark teased, edging away from the kids as they began to notice who he was.

Bruce chuckled, beginning to fiddle with the tester kit next to him. "So, what's up?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to stop by, you know, to see how you're doing."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. So…how are you doing?"

"Fine, thanks. We were just about to talk about quantum physics before you walked in."

"Oh, feeling a little sassy today are we?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

Bruce laughed. "Sorry." The bell rang, signaling the start of recess. The kids who ventured close to see if it was really Iron Man quickly turned away and went scampering toward the door. Tony relaxed, glad to be out of the spotlight. Bruce lifted his chin toward the door, placing the test kit down and jamming his hands in his pockets, following the stragglers toward the playground. Tony fell in step next to him.

They found a bench on the outskirts of the playground and sat. Bruce kept an eye on the games of tag, four square and even the occasional "superhero" that whizzed by. Tony sat next to him in silence, lounging on the bench as if he hadn't a care in the world. Exactly what Bruce had feared. Whenever Tony was pretending to be normal, that meant something was wrong.

"Well, spit it out," Bruce said quietly.

"There's nothing to spit out, Green Man."

"Bruce's lips twitched with the hint of a smile. "Really…so you just came down here to visit me by sitting there in silence. Nice try, Rust Bucket."

Tony rubbed his chin. Bruce waited fro him to say something, but he didn't. A kid ran by, screaming about how he wasn't "it" and it "wasn't fair". He heard Tony exhale in annoyance. He chuckled.

"I honestly don't understand how you like it here. Seriously, I just want to smack them, all of them. They're so…annoying. And loud. Annoying and loud."

"You get used to it." Bruce grinned. Tony rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat. Something was definitely eating at him.

"They want to get the Avengers back together," Tony blurted out. "There, I said it."

Bruce felt his blood run cold, his lighthearted mood vanishing, replaced with a feeling of doom. He could feel the monster inside him shift, like he'd jostled it in its slumber. Tony really picked a bad place to break that one on him.

"Did they say why?" It felt like his throat was closing up.

"Yeah, Famine," Tony said matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"Famine, one of the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse, you know? Destroys crops, makes food disappear, starves the fauna. A real Bambi killer."

Bruce turned, finally meeting Tony's shaded eyes. "You're kidding."

Tony smiled with a shrug. Bruce sighed.

"You're supposed to come with me back to headquarters. I've got a helicopter waiting."

Bruce shook his head, pressing his knuckles to his lips.

"Unless helicopter rides make the big guy angry."

"Nah, not unless it starts to crash. Or maybe if you have a bad pilot."

"Best pilot in the world."

"Let me guess, you're the pilot."

"See? I knew I liked you." Tony thumped him on the shoulder as Bruce laughed. "Come on, I already got you a substitute teacher and everything."

Tony stood and Bruce followed after a brief pause. "What would you have done if I said no?"

Stark shrugged. "Wouldn't matter, I said no too."

if you feel so inclined, please review! I hope I did an adequate job for this first chapter, please let me know if the dialouge/interactions are realistic enough or not. I'm trying to stay as canon as possible, but emphasizing the obvious bromances/romances going on. (because seriously, avengers is sooo shippy omg)