The suit of armour pulled back its fist before Steve could even react, connecting it with the left side of his face and knocking him to the floor, his head slamming hard against the concrete.

"Stand down," the suit said, the sound of Tony's voice tearing Steve's heart to shreds. "Final warning."

Choking and sputtering, Steve spit out a mouthful of blood and shook his head. His entire body was screaming at him to stop, to give in, the pain so intense that he could barely breathe, but he knew he couldn't. He knew that if he did, if he laid down his shield and allowed HYDRA to win, that it would all be over. The armies of darkness would march across the face of the world yet again, and all hope would be lost.

And there was no way he could allow that to happen. For as long as one man could still stand against evil, could still stand up for what was right, then there was no way the darkness could win.

And there was no one else there. He had to be that man.

Planting his palms on the floor, Steve sucked in as deep a breath as he could against the stabbing pain in his ribs, drew his feet underneath him, and slowly pushed himself up, turning to face the armoured suit, the suit that sounded so much like Tony, and raised his shield.

"I can do this all day."

Steve gasped as he jerked awake, chest heaving and covered in a cold sweat as his eyes flitted around the room, trying to get his bearings. His surroundings didn't look the HYDRA prison where he'd been kept, it looked more like—

Home, he thought, his shoulders sagging in relief. He laid back against his pillows, trying to relax.

I'm home now. I'm safe.

He was still finding it difficult to wrap his mind around it. Being stuck inside that HYDRA bunker with no windows and no concept of day or night, Steve hadn't realised just how much time had actually passed until Tony informed him that they had been looking for him for almost a month.

A month. And during that time Steve had missed not only Peter's championship Decathlon competition, but also him getting ready for his first big dance.

"It's all right, babe," Tony had told him after they'd crawled into bed the previous night. "There's going to be plenty of other competitions and dances that Pete'll go to that you'll be able to see."

And while Steve knew that Tony was right, at the same time he couldn't seem to shake the sense that time was starting to run out. Peter was already fifteen, actually almost sixteen, and Steve hadn't even gotten to meet him until he was eleven. He wanted to have as much time with Peter as he possibly could before he became an adult and left home.

"Are you all right, Captain Rogers?" JARVIS suddenly asked, quietly but still loud enough to cause Steve to jump. "Are you in need of any assistance?"

"No, JARVIS, I'm—I'm fine," Steve whispered. "Thank you."

"Very good, Captain."

Actually, it wasn't quite the truth, but Steve wasn't about to tell JARVIS that he'd just realised that he needed to pee. Nor was he about to wake Tony, who was sleeping soundly next to him on the bed, flat on his stomach with his face smashed into his pillow. Following the battle at the prison, Tony had been so concerned for Peter and Steve's injuries that he'd completely neglected to tell anyone about his own, which Steve had had the unfortunate opportunity to discover once they got home and Tony got undressed for bed. Steve had nearly choked when his eyes landed on the mass of deep blue and purple bruises that covered almost the entirety of Tony's upper back and shoulders, bruises caused by the grenade and missile hits that he'd taken while fighting against the Hammer suits.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve had asked, trying to keep his temper intact through the haze of his own pain and fatigue. "Tony, you know you can't always be forgetting to take care of yourself!"

"Yeah, and now is not the goddamn time to be starting that argument again, especially when you can't even walk!" Tony snapped back. "Now, get into bed, soldier, and that's an order!"

Steve had huffed and glared at him, but dropped the subject anyway, allowing Tony to fluff up his pillows and make sure that his water bottles, books, and sketchbook were all within easy reach on the bedside table.

That had been two nights ago, and ever since then both Peter and Tony had been bending over backwards to take care of Steve, and spoiling him completely rotten in the process. Tony had even already made Steve a new wedding ring, spending several hours in the lab to make sure it was as identical as possible to the one HYDRA stole from him, which made him even more determined to not wake Tony from his sound sleep just because he needed to use the bathroom.

And since Steve absolutely despised the crutches that he had been forced to use in order to get around the penthouse, he decided to forgo them as well. They were noisy, and made his armpits sore, and there were hopefully enough handholds between the bed and the bathroom for him to avoid having to use them.

Gritting his teeth, Steve pushed himself up to a sitting position and slid his legs over the side of his bed, careful to not allow his casted left foot to bang against the floor. The cast was also driving him completely mad. It was so bulky and heavy and made the skin underneath it itch like hell that he'd been sorely tempted on multiple occasions to try and rip it right off of him, and likely would've already done so if Tony and Peter and the rest of the team hadn't been doing such a good job of distracting him. Sam especially seemed to understand Steve's need to "jump right back into the swing of things", and as such the two of them had been discussing the extent of the Avengers' involvement in the compiling of evidence against the numerous HYDRA agents found to be embedded inside the U.S. government and its corresponding law enforcement agencies. So far they had agreed that Nick Fury, Maria Hill, and George Stacy would take point in the tracking down of any rogue operatives, with the hope that it would help SHIELD to further distance itself from the HYDRA moles once embedded inside it and reestablish the agency in a more positive light, with the Avengers assisting with searches if it became necessary.

They had also held a press conference the day before, attended only by journalists hand-picked by Pepper, where Steve laid out his entire story in what Peter called PG-13 detail, starting with his arrest following he and Tony's anniversary dinner and ending when he was finally released from the Atlanta hospital to come home. Images that Tony recorded from his HUD along with several documents that Bruce had been able to capture from the prison's computer systems were also released to a few selected news stations, further corroborating the growing pile of evidence against not only many of the men and women holding high positions in the government and other agencies, but also various news outlets.

It was a start, at least. But Steve knew he wouldn't be able to truly rest until every last HYDRA agent had been flushed out from their mole tunnels and arrested.

But unfortunately, at the moment he still needed to figure out a way to get to the bathroom and back without causing a scene.

Slowly, Steve pushed himself up to his feet, using the headboard as leverage as he placed all of his weight on his right foot. The cast on his left foot was massive, weighing at least ten kilograms with how much hardware was poking out of it. The surgeon had explained that he'd been required to use several of what he called medical pins in order to hold Steve's bones in place while they healed, which were now sticking out of the bright blue plaster in such a way that it made Steve feel sick to his stomach to even look at it. And not to mention the constant prickly feeling he'd had in the foot ever since the surgery from the bones knitting themselves back together. Steve had always hated that tingly, pins-and-needles feeling.

Although apparently not enough to stop breaking his goddamn bones, as Tony would say.

Keeping his right hand flat against the bed, Steve released the headboard and began hopping towards the bathroom, stopping at the end of the bed to balance himself on the footboard. The bathroom was still about ten paces away with nothing more for him to grab onto, but once he was able to get to the doorway he would hopefully be okay.

However, for all of Steve's meticulous planning, he realised only three hops in that he'd neglected to take into account the soreness in his right hip caused by him trying to compensate for the extra weight on his left foot. He paused in the very centre of the room, already dripping with sweat as he rested just the tip of his left toes against the floor, trying to take just a touch of weight off his right leg, and not even a second later found himself flat on his face, completely stunned, with his entire left side screaming in protest.

"What the—?" Steve heard from the bed as he attempted to roll over, his damaged ribs making him feel every single centimetre of movement. He refused to look as Tony sat up and poked his head over the end of the bed, already bracing himself for the lecture he was about to get.

"Jesus Christ, Steve, what the hell are you doing?" Tony demanded as he knelt down next to him, bleary-eyed and disheveled. He slid his arms underneath Steve's shoulders, trying to hoist him back up. "You trying to give me a heart attack or something?"

Steve glowered as he looked away, too embarrassed to even meet Tony's eyes even as his entire left side was now throbbing with every beat of his pounding heart.

"I just—I just needed to pee."

"Okay. And you didn't wake me up… why, exactly?"

"I didn't want to. You were sleeping."

To his credit Tony did at least make an attempt to hide his eyeroll, although it was not entirely successful. "Ah huh. And how'd that turn out for ya there, hmm?"

"Tony—"

"No, don't you be 'Tony-ing' me right now," he snapped. "You know damn well that I'd much rather be woken up with a kiss and a soft, 'hey sweetheart, can you help me hop on over to the bathroom?' or something like that as opposed to you smacking your face into the floor 'cause you're too damn stubborn to admit that you need me to help you."

Steve shook his head, curling his shoulders in as Tony let out an exaggerated sigh, his fingers threading through Steve's hair.

"C'mon, honey, please?" he said as his lips brushed across Steve's temple. "I know you come from the time when men weren't supposed to ask for help with stuff like that, but I thought you knew better than that by now. I'm your husband, damnit. It's not like I haven't seen it before."

That at least drew a small smile from Steve, and he turned, finally meeting Tony's worried eyes.

"I know, and I'm sorry. You just—you've been doing so much for me already and I know it's been wearing you out because you're trying to heal too, and I'm just so ready to get his stupid thing off of me that I thought—"

"Honey, your appointment with the surgeon's office is in a week," Tony said, just a hair shy of patronising. "That's a total of ten days with the cast, where most people would have it on for a minimum of three months, probably more. I know it's gotta be hard, but you've just got to be patient or else you'll just end up setting yourself back again." Tony let out a short chuckle. "Listen to me, I'm starting to sound like Sam."

"Well, I won't tell him if you don't." Steve tipped his head back against Tony's shoulder, beyond grateful that it didn't seem like he'd aggravated his still-healing ribs. He had gotten so used to his body's enhanced healing factor that having to wait for something to heal had hit him harder than he'd expected. Steve had never enjoyed waiting for anything, and that didn't combine well with his usual tendency to push himself.

"So, you think you're feeling up to moving again?" Tony asked after a couple of minutes. He was still combing his fingers through Steve's hair, which felt so incredibly good that Steve had almost managed to forget the very reason why they were now sitting in the middle of their bedroom floor.

"If I have to," Steve murmured, moaning when Tony dug the pads of his fingers into his scalp. His eyes fluttered closed as he relaxed against Tony, trying to focus only on the feel of his husband's fingertips instead of the pulsating pain in his foot and side.

"Mmm. You had another nightmare," Tony said. "Didn't you."

It was a statement instead of a question, which only served to reinforce how well Tony could read Steve. He supposed he shouldn't've been surprised that his nightmares had flared up again now that he was home, but that didn't mean he wasn't trying to ignore them.

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No, not right now. I still have to pee."

He felt Tony's lips press against his forehead. "All right, then tell you what. If you let me help you up so you can take care of what you need to take care of, I'll rub your head some more once we get back into bed. Sound good?"

"Yes, but I'm not exactly sure what you're getting out of this," Steve protested, rather weakly since Tony's magical fingers were still busy rubbing his scalp.

Tony's hands immediately froze in place. "Steve," he said, and Steve's heart skittered at the catch in his voice. "Honey, you were gone for a month, and I didn't know where the hell you were or if I'd ever see you again. Just getting to sleep next to you again has been a gift."

That prompted Steve to lift his head, and he cupped Tony's cheek in his palm, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. For everything."

"Nope, we're not going there," Tony said, covering Steve's lips with his fingers. "You know you don't have to be sorry. Well, maybe for falling flat on your face 'cause you were too stubborn to wake me up, but… not for the rest of it. You were a prisoner of war, honey, and I'm just relieved that Pete was able to find you."

Steve curled his fingers around Tony's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his knuckles.

"Me too."

"Okay, so then—"

"But I don't want to be leaning on you," Steve added. "You've got all those bruises all over your back and I'm not gonna be making 'em worse by pressing on 'em."

Tony gave an exaggerated sigh. "Then what do you suggest, Captain?"

Grudgingly, Steve asked Tony to bring over his crutches, which once they were in hand and he was able to take care of business without any further issues, he realised how silly he had been to ignore them in the first place.

"Now, see?" Tony murmured once they were back in bed, curled up together with Steve's head tucked against Tony's chest. "That didn't end up being too horrible, did it?"

Steve closed his eyes, grudgingly shaking his head.

"No, I guess not."

"Good. Now, tell me what else you'd like."

"Mmm," Steve moaned as Tony hit a particularly sensitive spot on the back of his head, trying to not think of what he'd like and managing to think of nothing else. He squirmed as he felt Tony grin against his forehead before pressing his lips there, lingering just a bit longer than he expected.

"You sure you don't need anything else, honey?" Tony asked, now pressing soft kisses all along Steve's temple and cheek. "Maybe I can help take your mind off the pain a bit, hmm?"

"Tony," Steve said as he tilted his head up to meet Tony's lips, his fingers threading through Tony's hair to hold him in place as Tony let out a soft whimper. As a matter of fact, a big part of the reason for Steve's impatience with his healing injuries was because he wanted Tony so badly that at times he could barely concentrate on anything else, but absolutely did not feel comfortable with Tony doing all the work since he was hurt as well.

"Your thoughts aren't as quiet as you think, babe," Tony said once they broke for air, still pressing soft kisses along Steve's jawline as his fingertips trailed across Steve's chest, brushing lightly across both his nipples. He then tapped Steve on the shoulder, indicating for him to roll onto his back. "Let me make you feel good, yeah?"

"Oh God, Tony," Steve groaned, his breath hitching when Tony's hand slid down his sternum to his abdomen, tracing along the waistband of his pyjama pants. "You don't—you don't have to."

"Oh, but I want to," Tony replied, shooting him a rather cheeky grin. "Besides, aren't orgasms one of nature's best pain relievers?"

Steve's reply got caught in his throat as Tony's hand slipped beneath the elastic of his pants, his nimble fingers curling around his already aching erection as he caught Steve's lips again, his tongue slipping into Steve's mouth to taste him. Sensation flooded Steve's body like a wave as he met Tony's tongue with his own, chasing away the throbbing, fiery pain, and he wrapped his arms around Tony's middle, shifting him so he was straddling Steve's waist.

"I have—I have heard that before," Steve gasped as he slipped his hands underneath Tony's sleep pants, cupping his glorious round ass as his hips rolled up to meet Tony's. "God, sweetheart, I have missed you!"

"Steve… baby," Tony whispered as he ground his hips down, moaning at the delicious friction and pulling another moan from Steve's throat. "Oh hell, honey, it's been way too long!"

"Tony!" Steve cried as Tony slid his hand between their bodies, curling his calloused fingers around both their erections and stroking them together, pleasure pooling deep in his gut when Tony let out another loud moan. "Sweetheart, I can't—I—oh God, please don't stop!"

"God, baby, you're just so fucking gorgeous!" Tony rasped, his strokes already losing their rhythm. "I wanna see you let go for me!"

They came within seconds of each other, their foreheads pressed together and panting shuddering breaths of air against each other's lips. As soon as Steve felt able to move again he pulled Tony down, ignoring the sticky mess on his belly as he tucked his beloved fella's head underneath his chin, careful to avoid pressing on the deep bruises littering the width of his upper back. The hot, throbbing aches in his foot and side were now gone, replaced by a wonderful warm, buzzing feeling.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Steve mumbled after a few minutes had passed, barely able to move his jaw enough to speak. He realised a few heartbeats later later that he needn't have bothered as Tony was already asleep, his hand cupping Steve's shoulder and a light smile on his full lips. Carefully, Steve shimmed down on the bed just enough to grab onto the blankets, pulling them up over them before pressing a final kiss to Tony's forehead and closing his eyes.

And when they woke up the next morning, sticky and sweaty and still curled up together, Steve found that aside from some slight residual soreness, most of his pain was gone.

Nature's best pain reliever, indeed.

"So you seriously can't tell us anything more about what happened?" Ned asked Peter through a mouthful of hamburger. "I mean, if it was big enough to take down most of the government then you have to know something, don't you?"

Peter sighed as he shoved a french fry into his mouth, shooting Gwen a grateful glance when he felt her hand squeeze his knee under the table. Gwen of course knew pretty much everything that had gone down in that Georgia prison, but so far Dad, Papa, and Pepper had been able to frame the footage they'd shared with the news stations by saying that Peter had been taken from school during the dance by HYDRA, with their intent being to use him as leverage in order to get Papa to cooperate with their sadistic plans. Peter had admittedly been pretty upset when Dad and Papa had sat him down to explain why they were going to skew the news stories, but unfortunately since he had chosen to disobey them again by not sharing what he had found with Dad, they told him that he had no say in the matter. He wasn't eighteen yet, so that meant their decisions were still law.

And while Peter could understand why his dads weren't ready for the world to be aware of the existence of his abilities quite yet—especially since he wasn't really ready either—it still didn't seem fair that he couldn't tell anyone that he'd been the one who had discovered the location of the prison, which no doubt ended up saving not only Papa's life, but both of the Maximoffs as well.

Papa had concluded their discussion by saying that Peter still had a lot to learn about working as part of a team, but that since he had obviously been able to handle himself pretty well during the actual fighting, he and Dad were going to allow him to start training again with the team once Papa's doctor gave him the okay to do so.

Which, while it wasn't exactly what Peter wanted, it was at least better than nothing.

"I've told you, Ned," he said quietly. "My dads don't want me talking about it."

"Aww, but you were there!" Ned exclaimed. "And I know the news isn't telling us everything either. I mean, most of the government's in jail now and Hammer Industries is being sold off, so what went on down there had to have been huge!"

"Ned, why don't you back off a bit, okay?" Gwen said, politely but firmly. "From what my dad told me that place where they were keeping Captain Rogers was pretty awful, and I'm sure Peter doesn't really want to have to think about it more than he has to."

"Oh, well, that's true," Ned said, giving Peter a rather sheepish nod. "I guess being the son of two superheroes can be pretty rough sometimes, huh?"

Peter raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of his milk, suppressing a shudder at the memory of seeing Dad and Papa's crumbling gravestones and watching Gwen fall to her death, the illusions Wanda had forced him to see while under HYDRA's influence. He had told Uncle Sam about them during one of their recent sessions but had so far kept them from his dads, not wanting their overprotectiveness to get any worse.

Besides, with Papa's foot still in a cast he was already cranky enough from his lack of mobility, and Peter didn't feel like adding even more ammunition to it.

"Yeah, sometimes," Peter agreed. "But the rest of the time it's still pretty cool."

Clearing her throat, Gwen thankfully changed the subject to their summer break, asking Ned about his upcoming yearly trip to Hawaii to visit his grandparents. It was the second-to-last day of school, and Peter only had one more final exam to take before he could pretty much coast through the rest of his classes.

The fact that he didn't have to worry about not being able to see Gwen much over the summer was pretty awesome too. Since she had been offered the summer internship position at Stark Industries, Peter was planning on meeting her in the SI cafeteria every day for lunch during the weeks when they weren't up at the Compound, and they had already planned a movie date for the following weekend, accompanied by Uncle Clint and Auntie Nat.

And then at the end of July was their three-week trip to Ireland, where Dad was planning to surprise Papa with a fully-furnished Irish cottage right on the outskirts of the town were Papa's parents grew up, with a quick two-day trip to Dublin thrown in for Peter's sixteenth birthday. Dad had made all the arrangements during the time that Papa was missing, his way of trying to stay optimistic about Papa's safe return, and just the previous night he had shown Peter pictures that the contractor had sent him of the completed house, including the memorial he'd ordered that commemorated Papa's father's sacrifice on the battlefields of World War I, where he was killed fighting for his adopted country. Dad had also made a sizeable donation in Papa's ma's name to one of the nearby hospital's neonatal intensive care units. The NICU at Mount Sinai hospital in New York where Peter spent the first six weeks of his life already sported a large commemorative plaque in Dad's name since he donated money and new equipment there every year, so Dad thought it was best for Papa's ma to be remembered in the Irish hospital since she had worked as a nurse.

And if the photos were able to do it all justice, Peter knew that Papa was going to be absolutely floored once he saw everything.

Which also meant that Peter absolutely could not forget to pack his earplugs. Thankfully Dad had thought ahead enough to have his bedroom built on the opposite end of the hall from the master, but it still didn't hurt to be prepared.

"So, when does your papa get his new cast off?" Gwen asked as they walked down the hall to History after lunch, Ned having made a beeline for Betty's locker as soon as the bell rang.

"Hopefully at his next appointment, Dad's taking him back next Thursday morning," answered Peter. "He was pretty upset that he needed the second one."

"Yeah, I bet," Gwen said. "Is he just not healing as fast as he used to or something?"

Peter shook his head, grimacing as he remembered how grumpy Papa had been the night before. "No, I think it's more that the doctor's just being extra careful. I'm sure he doesn't want to be remembered as the guy who botched Captain America's broken foot after Dr Cho personally asked him to fix it. And I also think that Papa didn't really want to admit how messed up his foot was in the first place. I mean, I saw all of the X-rays and I saw how awful it looked before the surgery started, and I still can't believe he could even stand on it when I first found him in that prison, much less take steps with it."

Gwen gave a nod as she walked past their History classroom, leaning against the row of lockers next to it. "And you? You're doing okay?" she asked quietly. "I know you weren't as hurt as Captain Rogers, but my dad told me that you were still pretty beat up."

"Nah, I'm fine," Peter said automatically, choosing to ignore the fact that he sounded just like his dad. "Dr Cho took care of me on the chopper flight to Atlanta, so… I'm good."

"Well, if you're sure," Gwen said, her tone suggesting that she thought otherwise. "But don't forget that I'm here if you want to talk about anything. And I'm not trying to be pushy, I just—"

"Gwen, I know, and I really appreciate it, okay," Peter said. "I'm just—I guess when I'm with you I'd just like to be more… normal. Just be myself, without all the superhero stuff. Does that make any sense?" He didn't add that the vision of Gwen crashing to the ground had rattled him a lot more than he wanted to admit, and that he had already thought way too much about the possibility of some future bad guy intentionally targeting her just for being his girl. Obie had targeted Papa for the exact same thing, so Peter knew he wasn't just being paranoid.

"Yeah, it makes sense," she said. "Just as long as you don't think that you can't talk to me about it."

Peter smiled, reaching to tuck a stray hair behind her ear and wishing that he could kiss her instead. Their hurried first kiss right before he'd escaped out through the boys' room window had been incredible, better than he'd ever imagined it would be, and he was very much looking forward to some more practise.

"I know," he said softly. "And thank you for understanding."

The bell rang then, causing Peter to jump as it was right above their heads. He managed to sneak into the classroom and slide into his seat just before the teacher turned around, and if he had to guess, also managed to completely ace his final exam, meaning he would finish another school year with straight-A's.

Dad and Papa would be proud.

To Peter's surprise, it was Uncle Sam and Auntie Nat waiting for him once school was over instead of his dads. Peter's heart leapt into his throat at the sight of them, partially because he still wasn't used to seeing Auntie Nat with her platinum blonde hair.

"Everything's fine with your dads, милая ошибка," Auntie Nat said as soon as Peter opened the door. "No need to worry."

"Well, that's good," Peter said, breathing out a small sigh of relief. "But why—?"

"Thor showed up at the Tower about an hour ago with a weird haircut," Uncle Sam cut in, sounding grim. "He's also missing an eye, so your dad's already started on a new one while Cap debriefs him."

There was a short pause while Peter tried to figure out if Uncle Sam was joking or not, as his sense of humour tended towards the dry, sarcastic side. But several heartbeats later when he hadn't quirked his eyebrow or done anything else to indicate that he was kidding, Peter let out a gasp.

"Wait, what?" he exclaimed, giving his head a quick shake. "Uncle Thor lost an eye? What the hell happened to him, was it Loki?"

"Apparently not this time," said Auntie Nat. "We didn't get all the details 'cause we had to leave, but Thor mentioned something about an older sister than he'd never met, the goddess of death, apparently, who'd been imprisoned or something."

"A sister? But there's nothing in Norse mythology about Thor having a sister?" Peter said.

"Well, then I guess the myths are a bit different from the reality," said Uncle Sam. "And I'm sure Thor will be able to tell you all about it once we get back."

Peter leaned back against his seat, his mind already spinning.

"Yeah, okay."

They found everyone gathered in Dad's lab when they got back to the Tower, with Thor sitting on one end of the couch surrounded by peanut butter sandwiches and lemonade and Dad in the centre surrounded by blue holographic eyeballs. Uncle Thor looked up as Peter entered, nearly knocking his tray of food to the floor in his hurry to get to his feet.

"Young Starkson!" Thor exclaimed as he pulled Peter into such a tight hug that Peter's back cracked. "It is so, so good to see you again!"

"Hey, Uncle Thor," Peter said. He rolled his shoulders as Uncle Thor released him, trying not to stare too long at the eyepatch covering his left eye. "I heard that you had some trouble with your sister?"

Uncle Thor's face immediately fell, and Peter winced, glancing towards Papa who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

"Uhh, did I say something wrong?"

"It's kind of a long story, little guy, and I'm not sure Thor's up to telling it again just now," Papa said gently as Peter sat down next to him. He curled an arm around Peter's shoulders, kissing the top of his head. "Just suffice it to say that he's going to be staying here on Earth for the foreseeable future."

"Oh! Are you gonna be staying here with us again?" asked Peter.

Uncle Thor shook his head, sniffing as he took a huge bite of one of his sandwiches. "No, no, Young Starkson, although I do promise to visit from time to time. My people and I have decided to settle in an area of your planet that you call Norway."

"Oh," Peter said. "Well, I guess that makes sense since you guys are Norse gods and all. But what's going on? What happened?"

"Peter, another time, okay?" Papa said, giving Peter's hair a ruffle. "In fact, why don't you come and help me get dinner started while Dad works on Uncle Thor's new eye, okay?"

"That's a good idea, Pete," Dad said. "I'm sure you're hungry anyway, aren't ya?"

"Um… yeah. Okay."

While Papa had indeed been upset about having to get another cast on his foot, the surgeon had at least been able to take out most of the metal pins from his healing bones, which meant that Papa could now bear some weight on his left leg as long as he didn't do it too often. He of course had been pushing the "not too often" part ever since he'd gotten home and kept refusing to use his cane most of the time, but as Dad had pointed out, he wouldn't be Papa without trying to push against his limits.

"So, can you tell me what happened to Uncle Thor?" Peter asked once they were settled in the kitchen, kneading homemade pizza dough. "I've never seen him this twitchy before."

Papa gave a sigh, squeezing his hunk of dough so hard that it squirted through his fingers. "There was initially a problem with Loki, which is why Uncle Thor had to leave here at first. Through a weird turn of events, he ended up discovering that Loki had put their father into exile so he could take over the throne of Asgard. Thor managed to find him again but Odin was very sick by the time he did, and apparently when Odin passed away the magic that had contained Thor's evil older sister in her prison also went away, so she was able to escape and return to Asgard."

"Oof," Peter said. "And she was the goddess of death?"

"Yes. Her name was Hela," said Papa. Finished with his dough, he handed Peter a block of mozzarella cheese, taking the cheddar for himself. "And she caused the deaths of a lot of people and managed to destroy Thor's hammer before Thor and Loki were able to stop her."

"Oh my God, that sounds awful!" Peter exclaimed. "And I thought it was impossible to destroy Mjolnir!" Peter couldn't even imagine Uncle Thor without his ubiquitous hammer; it would be like Papa losing his shield or Dad trying to fight without his armour.

"Yes, well, so did Thor, and from what he's been telling us, it was all pretty awful," Papa agreed. "But the worst part was that Hela was so powerful that he and Loki ended up having to destroy Asgard in order to defeat her."

Peter's head whipped up mid-shred, his eyes widening in shock.

"What? You mean Asgard is gone? Like, gone?"

"Yes," Papa said grimly. He let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the counter. "Kinda puts things into perspective a bit, doesn't it?"

"No, not if you mean what I think you mean," Peter argued. "HYDRA could've ended up destroying Earth too, Papa, if we hadn't stopped them, and I'm sure Uncle Thor would've been able to handle his psychopath sister a lot better if he'd known that she existed before it was too late, so I don't think that it does any good to compare them. They were both evil, and they both caused a lot of people to lose their lives, but now they're both gone."

Papa gave a nod, smiling softly. "You're right, little guy," he said, clapping a hand on Peter's shoulder. "You're pretty smart, you know that?"

"Eh, that's what people tell me," Peter said with a not-quite-modest shrug. "But I did ace my History final today, so…"

"Yes, I'm sure you did." Papa finished spreading the shredded cheese across the first pizza, popping a few pieces into his mouth. "Now, let's get these pizzas into the ovens before Thor ends up eating our entire supply of peanut butter, okay?"

"Uh huh."

They ended up making a total of ten pizzas, six of which were eaten by Peter, Papa, and Uncle Thor. Once everyone was done eating Peter helped Dad finish his work on Uncle Thor's new eye while Papa gave him a condensed version of the HYDRA prison battle, including a rundown of the upcoming criminal trials that were scheduled to begin by the end of the summer. Uncle Thor was also very interested to learn more about Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, who were spending the summer with Uncle Clint's sister-in-law and her family on their farm in rural Indiana. Once they all had arrived back in New York, Wanda confessed that she and Pietro had been held at the HYDRA prison for almost three years, so Papa worked it out with Director Fury that they would spend the summer quietly recuperating, then return to live at the Compound right before the school year started so they could both attend a local public school.

"You'll always have a place here with us, Thor," Papa said. "But we definitely understand that you need to be with your own people."

"For a time there will be a need," Uncle Thor replied. "My people are strong, but losing one's home is enough to challenge the strength of even my fellow Asgardians, I'm afraid. However, as I am still not convinced it is in my people's best interests for me to be their ruler, I do believe that I will be back. I just do not yet know when that might be."

"Well, I'm just sorry that we didn't know what was going on," added Papa. "Maybe we could've helped?"

"No, it is highly unlikely that any of you humans would have survived an encounter with Hela," said Uncle Thor. "That was in fact the main reason for my silence." He picked up his refilled glass of lemonade glass, downing its contents in three large gulps before getting to his feet. "And with that, I am afraid that I must be off. Without my hammer I am travelling a bit slower than usual, and if I leave Loki and Valkyrie alone together for too long I run the risk of no longer having a brother by the time I return."

"Yeah, I suppose the last thing that we need right now is for Loki to throw another tantrum," Dad said, handing Uncle Thor his newly built eye. "Try that on for size."

Peter looked away while Uncle Thor popped it in. He'd been able to handle watching Papa's foot surgery with no problems, but for some reason watching someone pop in an artificial eye tested the limits of his squeamishness, especially right after he'd just eaten three halves of a pizza.

"Yes, I believe it works, Stark," Thor said after a moment or two, blinking rapidly. "And I thank you."

"Eh, no problem," said Dad. "Let me know if something goes wrong and I'll tweak it for ya."

"I will indeed." Uncle Thor gave a nod, looking around at the various team members all standing around him. "My friends, until we meet again, I bid you all farewell."

And with that, Uncle Thor looked up towards the ceiling, and was instantly caught in a beam of bright white light that looked almost exactly like a transporter beam straight out of Star Trek, disappearing three seconds later.

"Well," Uncle Sam said after a short pause. "Never a dull moment, huh?"

Dad immediately rolled his eyes, prompting Papa to chuckle.

"I guess we're just good at keeping you on your toes, right Sam?" Papa said. "Don't want anyone getting bored, do we?"

"Ah hell," grumbled Uncle Sam. "After that mess down in Georgia I think we've all earned the right to some boredom. Haven't we?"

"We could all head out to Indiana for awhile," said Uncle Clint from his perch near the window. "I'm sure my sister-in-law wouldn't mind having some extra farm hands for a few days. You'd probably have to sleep in the barn though, the house isn't really all that big."

Uncle Sam's eyebrows shot up. "Or on second thought, maybe I just need to go for a run."

"Yeah, and in another week I'll finally be able to join you again," Papa said eagerly.

"Probably," Dad corrected. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, honey, yeah?"

"Are you kidding? I'm looking forward to it!" said Uncle Sam. "It might be the only time I can honestly say that I beat Captain America."

"Oh, I'd be careful about that if I were you, Falcon," Papa warned. "Don't go getting your hopes up too high."

"Um, I'm pretty sure he just did, Cap," Uncle Clint said with a rather wicked grin. "This is gonna be fun."

"Yeah," said Auntie Nat. "And on that note, I'm heading back downstairs to dye my hair. See ya later, boys."

"Oh thank God," said Uncle Clint as he hurried to catch up with her. "You know I like the red so much better!"

"Yeah, and I think I'm gonna head on out too," said Uncle Sam. He nudged Peter with his elbow. "Bucky and I are planning to watch the baseball game tonight if you wanna come down."

"Oh, yeah! That sounds fun, thanks!" Peter hardly ever turned down an opportunity to hang out with Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky since they were so much fun to be around. The team liked to joke that Dad and Papa often bickered like an old married couple—which was actually the truth—but to Peter Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky were even funnier. Trading insults, bantering about their preferred sports teams, and in general acting like two grumpy old men most of the time usually had Peter laughing so hard that his stomach hurt.

Plus, aside from Uncle Thor, Uncle Bucky was Peter's favourite person to arm-wrestle with.

"Well, good. I'll make sure to have plenty of snacks," said Uncle Sam. He clapped Papa on the shoulder, nodding at Dad. "See you guys later."

"Um, it is okay if I watch the game with them, isn't it?" Peter asked gingerly once Uncle Sam was out of earshot. "I don't have any homework since tomorrow's the last day of school."

"Sure, little guy, it's okay," Papa said, a sort of sad smile on his face. "Long as you're back up here before bedtime, okay?"

"Uh huh. Thanks."

Dad came up to Papa then, slipping his hand into the crook of Papa's elbow. "C'mon, honey, you've been on your feet long enough."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Papa said with a sigh. Peter watched as Dad led Papa towards the living room, setting him up on the couch with his casted foot propped up on a pillow, his sketchbook and the TV remote both within easy reach. A lump rose in Peter's throat as Papa watched Dad head back to his lab to finish his work on the upgraded defence drones, and he glanced at the clock, noting that he had about an hour before the baseball game was due to start.

"Hey, Papa?" he said as he sat down next to the coffee table. "Would you wanna play a game of chess?"

The look of surprised delight on Papa's face was almost enough to bring tears to Peter's eyes.

"I would love to."

Peter grinned, reaching for the chessboard under the table. "Do you remember the first time we ever played?"

"Of course I do. It was when you taught me how," Papa answered, his blue eyes twinkling as he studied the board, finally moving a pawn. He reached across to ruffle Peter's hair. "You've grown a bit since then, don't you think?"

"Yeah, a bit," Peter said with a wink. He had actually grown a lot since that first chess game they had played in the base hospital in Afghanistan where he and Dad were recovering, but aside from the cast on his foot and the ring on his finger, Papa hadn't hardly changed at all.

He's happier now, though, Peter thought. All three of us are.

His grin grew wider as he took one of Papa's knights. "But I think I can still beat you in chess."

"Oh, you think so?" said Papa. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

Peter laughed, relieved when Papa laughed too. "Well, I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

I could definitely get used to this, Tony thought as he tipped his head back against Steve's shoulder, briefly closing his eyes. He, Steve, and Peter were curled up on the couch in the living room of their Irish cottage, watching the latest Star Wars movie on the big-screen TV. It had been a pretty busy day, beginning with yet another flat tire while driving along the bumpy Irish roads—and what was it about Ireland and flat tires, anyway? With no spare tire available and the auto club saying it would be a three-hour wait, Steve had suggested that they hike a bit along the country road they'd been driving on, which ended up leading them to an absolutely beautiful waterfall that Steve identified as the famous Maghera Falls, a place his ma had told him about as a child. Peter of course had been completely fascinated by it, and insisted on not only exploring the falls and the surrounding beach area but also the nearby caves. Steve and Peter ended up taking so many pictures that they both maxed out the memory on their phones, something Tony hadn't thought was possible.

All of which meant that by the time they finally got back to the repaired car, it was not only almost dark outside, but none of them had eaten anything since breakfast. After stopping to buy just enough food to tide Peter and Steve over until they could get home, Steve had insisted that Tony and Peter rest while he made them a dinner big enough for the entire team, complete with appetisers and dessert.

"Um, I think he's nodding off again, sweetheart," Steve whispered into Tony's ear. He jerked his head in Peter's direction, forcing Tony to hide his chuckle as he watched Peter's curly head nearly flop down into his huge bowl of popcorn and then snap right back up again, his eyes blinking rapidly behind his glasses.

"Yeah, I think you're right," Tony whispered once Peter had done it again two more times. "You wore the kid out, honey."

"Yeah, I guess I did. It'll hopefully mean that he'll sleep good though," Steve added, his warm breath on Tony's ear causing him to shiver. "Do you think we should suggest that he head to bed now?"

"You sure it's not just because you want his popcorn?" Tony said with a rather cheeky grin. His heart gave a flutter as Steve pressed his lips to Tony's neck, just below his ear.

"It's not popcorn that I want at the moment."

"Oh, really?" Tony asked, squirming slightly. "Care to enlighten me, then?"

Steve smiled against Tony's neck, sending a bolt of pleasure down Tony's spine. "You're the genius, sweetheart. I'm sure you can figure it out."

Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure that I can.

"Hey, Pete?" Tony said, gently shaking his son's shoulder. "Buddy, you keep trying to faceplant into your popcorn, so why don't you head on to bed, yeah?"

"Huh?" Peter said as his head snapped up again, blinking in confusion. "Oh, yeah. I guess I am kinda tired."

"Seems like you're a bit more than 'kinda' tired," Steve said as he took Peter's popcorn bowl. "C'mon, little guy. Time for bed."

The fact that Peter didn't even attempt to argue only proved how tired he was, and once Tony and Steve managed to cajole him through getting into his pyjamas and brushing his teeth, they tucked him into his bed, taking turns kissing him goodnight.

"Night, bud," Tony whispered as he smoothed Peter's hair off his forehead. "See ya in the morning."

Peter was out before he could even respond.

As soon as they stepped out of Peter's room Steve took Tony's hand, leading him down the hall to their bedroom. Tony had designed the spacious room like a loft, with a large sitting area furnished with the same kind of comfy, squashy furniture they had in their Tower penthouse and Compound apartment. There was also a section over by the corner windows set up like a small art studio for Steve, with the bed and bedside tables situated about two-thirds of a level above, up a small flight of stairs and overlooking the rest of the room.

It was absolutely beautiful, and Tony loved it so much that even though they still had a few more days before they were due to head back to New York, he was already looking forward to their next trip so they could stay there again.

But apparently Steve had made some pretty definite plans for the room that night, as Tony discovered as soon as they set foot inside. Flickering candles sat on top of the dresser and both of the bedside tables, throwing shadows onto the walls and giving off a soft, glowing light that highlighted the lighter blond strands of Steve's hair. The bed was already turned down, with a large bottle of what looked like scented massage oil sitting next to their smaller bottle of lube on Steve's bedside table.

"What's all this?" Tony asked as Steve's left arm slipped around his waist, pulling him close as he tucked Tony's left hand against his chest.

"Just some small plans that I made," Steve murmured, winking as he kissed the tip of Tony's nose. He slipped his phone from his pocket and turned on the music player, with Tony letting out a wide grin as the crooning voice of John Legend filled the room.

"You are such a sap, honey," Tony said as he curled his fingers around Steve's bicep and tipped his forehead against his shoulder. He breathed in deeply, reveling in his husband's glorious ivory-soap-and-vanilla scent as they swayed gently to the music. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Steve said softly. "But you love me anyway."

A sudden knot rose in Tony's throat, and he gave a slight cough, trying to clear it. If Steve only knew a fraction of how worried he had been, how scared he'd been that he might never see him again…

It was too much for Tony to even contemplate. Even now, wrapped tightly in his husband's arms with Steve's strong heartbeat beneath his ear, there was a tiny part of him that still believed that all of this was just one big, elaborate dream, and that someday he would simply wake up and it would all be gone. That the last four-plus years since Steve found he and Peter near death in the middle of the Afghanistan desert had all been nothing more than something he had made up in his overactive imagination.

"Oh Christ, Steve, you know that I do," he said instead, burrowing even further into Steve's embrace. "But you also know that you don't have to go through the whole literal song and dance to show me, right?"

"Yeah, I know," answered Steve, his lips brushing along Tony's temple. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to anyway."

Before Tony could say anything else, Steve slipped his fingers under his chin, tilting his head up and capturing his lips. Tony wound his arms around Steve's neck as his tongue swiped across Tony's bottom lip, asking for permission like the gentleman he always was. He whimpered as Steve's tongue plundered his mouth, teasing and tasting as one hand slipped underneath Tony's t-shirt, his blunt fingernails scraping lightly up his back.

"Steve," Tony whispered as Steve broke away from his mouth to trail kisses down his jaw to his neck, sucking gently on his pulse point. "Honey, you're—I need—"

"I'm gonna spoil you tonight, sweetheart," Steve murmured as he kissed across Tony's neck and back up to his ear. "You've taken such good care of me lately and spoiled me with this wonderful vacation, it's time for me to take care of you now."

And with that Steve slid his beautifully large hands underneath Tony's ass and hoisted him into his arms, carrying him up the stairs to their bed and laying him down on the lightly perfumed sheets. He crawled up next to him, hovering over him as he stripped Tony's clothes off, his eyes flicking down to Tony's already straining erection before leaning down to kiss him.

"Will you turn over for me?" he asked against Tony's lips. "I thought I'd start you off with a backrub."

"Okay, but take off your clothes for me first, yeah?" Tony asked. He tugged rather impatiently on Steve's tight blue t-shirt. "Please, baby, I wanna see your gorgeous body."

A pink blush crept up Steve's cheeks, and he smiled, revealing the dimple that Tony firmly believed could launch a thousand ships as he reached behind him, tugging the t-shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor. Tony grabbed onto Steve's wrists, gliding his palms up his beautiful arms to his broad shoulders, then down to his pecs and abs, pleasure shooting through him like an arrow with every tiny hitch in Steve's breath.

"God, you're just so fucking gorgeous," he whispered once Steve was completely naked, in absolute awe of the exquisite man hovering over him. "How'd I get so damn lucky?"

Instead of responding Steve ducked his head to kiss him again, sliding his hand under Tony's shoulder.

"I'm the one who's lucky, sweetheart. Now, will you please roll over for me?"

Too dazed to think of another excuse, Tony obliged, rolling onto his stomach with his arms at his sides. He let out a soft moan as Steve reached for the bottle of massage oil, pouring a generous amount into his palm and rubbing them together.

"This isn't going to be a deep backrub since you're still healing," Steve said as he started at the back of Tony's neck, his slicked palms gliding easily across Tony's skin. "More of a rubdown, okay? Just enough to relax you."

"Whatever you say, honey," Tony mumbled into his pillow, his muscles already turning to mush. The bruises that he'd had on his back caused by the Hammer suits had taken a pretty long time to heal, with new ones emerging as the older ones faded, but they had all finally disappeared during their first week in Ireland so while Tony didn't think Steve needed to be as careful as he was, he wasn't about to complain about the way his husband's hands were currently running across his body.

Even if they were moving almost agonisingly slow.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Steve murmured as his painter's hands finally moved further down, over Tony's sides and mid-back, his warm breath sending shivers down Tony's spine. "God, I love seeing you laid out in front of me like this!"

"Steve," Tony said, or more like whined when Steve's warm hands slid even further down to his waist, spending what seemed like hours teasing the skin just above his ass. Tony made an impatient noise in his throat, glancing back at Steve just in time to see the grin stretch across his full lips, his face flushed and his blue eyes nearly blown black.

"Shh, mo grá," he said as the tip of his tongue poked out between his perfect teeth. "Ach déan iarracht scíth a ligean. Just try and relax."

"Steve!" Tony said again, this time not even trying to hide his whine as Steve finally moved down to his ass, cupping each cheek in one large palm and squeezing gently. He squirmed on the bed, gasping at the friction of the sheets against his crotch as Steve's index finger slipped into his crack, slowly dragging along the length of it. "Honey, now you're just teasing me!"

Steve's hands paused and he leaned over, trailing his lips across Tony's cheekbone and down to his mouth. The kiss was sloppy, wet, and desperate, with Tony moaning in protest as soon as he pulled away.

"Is breá limo an oiread sin," Steve whispered. "I love you so much, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Inis dom conas is féidir liom tú a shásamh."

"Steve, I just want you," Tony begged. "Please, just get me ready and get inside me."

"You're sure?" Steve asked, his lips brushing against Tony's with every word. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah, I know!" protested Tony. "Which is why I want you to get started like right now!"

They had definitely not been celibate since that night that Steve faceplanted in their Tower bedroom, but at Steve's request they had limited themselves to blowjobs and handjobs—and a lot of kissing, always a lot of kissing—since he didn't feel comfortable with anything more while they were still recovering.

But now they were both finally healed, and as far as Tony was concerned that meant there were no more excuses.

With a final kiss, Steve grabbed one of the spare pillows, sliding it under Tony's hips before reaching for the lube. Tony bit his lip in anticipation as Steve warmed it between his fingers, nearly coming off the bed as Steve's index finger slowly slipped inside him.

"Relax, sweetheart," murmured Steve, his left hand a constant pressure on the small of Tony's back as he slid in a second finger. "Breathe."

"Trying," Tony said, gasping as Steve curled his fingers inside him, brushing against that magic spot that made stars dance in front of his eyes as the pleasure coil in his gut wound tighter and tighter. "Oh fuck, Steve, I'm ready. I promise I'm ready. Please!"

"Not yet, mo grá," Steve said, his voice so rough and husky that Tony couldn't help but let out an absolutely wanton moan. "Not gonna hurt you."

Tony huffed into his pillow, biting his lip again as Steve carefully worked him open, nearly sobbing once he finally pulled out his fingers and laid down next to him, rolling Tony onto his side.

"I want to touch as much of you as possible," Steve whispered as he hooked Tony's leg over his arm. He carefully pushed inside him, his lips never leaving Tony's skin until his hips were flush against Tony's ass and he let out a long, shaky breath.

"Tony, do you feel that?" Steve rasped against his neck. He rocked forward, pulling gasps from both of their throats. "Do you feel me inside you? Do you feel how well we fit together?"

"I do, baby," Tony choked out, his words slurred like he was drunk. "Feels so fucking good!"

Steve rocked forward again, a bit more forceful this time, then wound his arms around Tony's chest and shifted them so he was mostly on his back, with Tony half on top of him. The change in position caused Steve to slip even deeper inside him, and gave Steve free reign to glide his hands all over Tony's chest, each touch of his fingers like a hot brand on Tony's already overheated skin.

"I tried to calculate it once, the odds of us meeting," Steve continued, now rocking slowly but steadily. "But the number got too high for me to keep going so I finally just gave up." His fingers trailed up Tony's chest to cup his chin, turning his head to look at him. "It was astronomical, even higher than one in a million, and yet somehow I still managed to find you. I still managed to find you and Peter, and I don't—I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't. You saved me, sweetheart. You and Peter, you both saved me."

"But you saved us first," Tony croaked. He wound his arm around Steve's neck, pulling him down for a sloppy kiss that was all teeth and tongues and panting breaths. "You just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the desert, I couldn't believe you were even real."

"I'm real, mo grá. I'm real, and I'm here, and you're in my bed and in my arms, and I love you so damn much that I can't even tell you. Ni féidir liom maireachtáil gan tú, Tony. Ciallaíonn tú gach rud domsa, agus anois, ba mhaith liom go tiocfaidh tú chugam!" Steve trailed his fingertips gently over the scars marking the centre of his chest and down to his pelvis, curling his fingers around Tony's aching erection and stroking him in time with his thrusts. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart, I want to see you come for me!"

Tony tried to hold off his impending climax, if only because he wanted Steve to let go with him. But the torturously sweet combination of Steve's cock thrusting inside him and Steve's nimble fingers curled around his own was too much for him to handle, and he cried out as he came, gasping and shuddering and still clinging to Steve's neck with their foreheads pressed tightly together. Steve followed only a second or two later, his face twisted into such exquisite pleasure that an aftershock rippled through Tony's body that was almost as strong as his orgasm.

They laid there for awhile, just clinging to each other's sticky, sweat-soaked bodies with their hearts beating in tandem. Tony was so relaxed and sated that by the time Steve kissed him on the cheek and rolled him onto his side, he had nearly fallen asleep. He winced as Steve gently pulled out of him, then gathered him into his arms and carried him into their shower, washing his hair and body with the same reverence he'd just displayed during their lovemaking.

"I love you, Tony," Steve said once they were curled up together on their bed, with Tony's back pressed up against Steve's bare chest and his head tucked under Steve's chin. He pressed a kiss to Tony's cheek, his voice trembling ever-so-slightly. "I love you so much, I can't—"

"Shh, honey," Tony whispered. He turned his head just enough to cup Steve's cheek. "It's okay, I'm here. I love you, and I'm always gonna be here."

Steve gave a shaky nod, kissing Tony one final time. "Me too, sweetheart. Always."

Whatever it takes.

"Hey, Steve?" Natasha said as she entered the anteroom off of the Avengers' main Compound training area, quietly so as to not startle him. "Everyone's ready if you are."

"Okay." Steve turned a page in his rather beat-up notebook, rereading a few of the notes he'd scribbled earlier that morning. "Um… I'll be there in a couple minutes, okay?"

"Sure. Everything all right?"

"Oh yeah," Steve answered, without hesitation. "Yeah, everything's fine, I just—just give me a couple minutes, okay?"

"Well, all right," said Natasha, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "But you know what usually happens when we leave Bucky, Sam, and Clint idle for too long."

Steve grinned, knowing all too well the kind of trouble the three of them tended to get into when they were bored. "Yeah, I do. I'll be down in a minute."

"All right. See ya in a minute."

He stared down at the notebook until he heard Natasha's departing footsteps, huffing out a sharp breath once he was alone again. He had no real reason to be as nervous as he was, but he supposed Sam would tell him that it didn't matter if there was a reason for it or not. His feelings were still his feelings.

At Steve's suggestion, the team had taken almost the entire summer off to rest and recuperate. He'd realised once he got home from Georgia that they had been going nearly non-stop for almost four years, and with most of the former HYDRA agents currently on trial and the rest being tracked down by SHIELD, Steve finally felt that they could take a very well-deserved break.

And what a restful break it was. Aside from his wonderful vacation to Ireland with Tony and Peter, Clint and Natasha had spent a month out in Indiana with his sister-in-law and her family along with the Maximoffs, while Sam and Bucky ended up with season tickets to the Mets, inviting George Stacy to join them whenever he was available.

But now the summer was coming to a close, and while there hadn't been any whispers of any newly developing threats as of yet, Steve knew it was only a matter of time before someone or something else came along and the Avengers would be called to action.

And as the team leader, it was his responsibility to make sure that the team was ready when that day came.

Setting down the notebook, Steve grabbed his cowl and picked up his shield, sliding it into place on his left arm. He was wearing a brand-new Captain America uniform that Tony had just finished making for him the previous night. The rest of the team had new uniforms too, including a new Spider-Man suit for Peter and suits for Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, who Steve had allowed to join the team with the understanding that they wouldn't be assisting with missions until he believed they were ready.

"All right," he said quietly to himself. "Let's do this."

Sam had warned Steve that it would take some time for him to get back into the swing of things after his experience down in the HYDRA prison, and as usual, Sam had been absolutely correct. The Ireland vacation had helped, as did the unwavering support from Tony and Peter, but Sam had also warned Steve that only he could work through his own traumatic experiences. Others could sympathise and help him, but Steve's demons were all his own. They were personalised, so to speak, which meant that only he could defeat them.

Which Steve had every intention of doing so, starting with the first Avengers' training session in the newly remodelled training centre.

Stepping into the hallway, Steve paused for just a moment outside the double doors before pushing them open, his heart fluttering as everyone turned to look up at him, with Tony giving him an approving wink.

It had been a little over four years since SHIELD had pulled him out of the Arctic ice, and two weeks later sent he and James to recover Tony and Peter from their kidnappers in Afghanistan. Those two weeks had been the most disorienting days of his life, having no home, no real identity, not knowing at all what to do with himself in the strange, new world of the future.

And now he had not only a home, but also an incredible husband and a son that he adored beyond reason to share it with.

Tony, Peter, James, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Sam, Bucky, Pietro, Wanda, and Thor. They weren't only his teammates, they were also his family.

"Looking pretty snazzy up there, Cap!" Sam called from his spot about a metre or so away from Bucky. "Are ya ready to get started?"

Yes, I am, Steve thought as his eyes swept across his teammates, all waiting expectantly for him to give the word.

"Avengers!" he said, loud and commanding, then paused, glancing down first at Tony, then Peter, both of whom gave him encouraging nods.

"Let's get to work!"

The End.

It's hard for me to admit that the story is over! I can't thank all of you enough for all of your wonderful reviews on Pieces of Echoes and this story!

Please don't forget to leave me a review here and tell me what you think!

Until next time! :)