This, ladies an gentlemen, is the Oktoberfest one shot I promised for Sandy-wmd. Again, this turned more into a character study than the Avengers celebrating the holiday. I really don't understand why I keep doing that. Sorry if this is a little all over the place. I wrote it half asleep last night and basically fell asleep immediately after writing the last sentence. I can't think of any way to make it better, though, so it's staying as is.

Not very important, but wanted to share: The little town I mention in this is actually based off my hometown in Germany, Gossweinstein. It's small and gorgeous, and I miss it terribly. I couldn't help putting it in when I got this prompt. The cover is actually the castle there. If you want a better idea about what it looks like, just Google image search it. The pictures there are wonderful and very accurate in showing it's beauty.

Alright enough of my babbling. Please enjoy! Hope you like it Sandy-wmd!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my memories of Germany

Trees. Lots and lots of trees. All there seemed to be was trees. And a bitter cold that nipped at their exposed skin with a vengeance. They trudged through the forest debris, heads bent low against the cold breeze, arms crossed over chests to try to keep in as much warmth as possible.

Every Avenger had their own reason for not wanting to be in the middle of a forest in Bavaria. Tony, for instance, was grousing on about missing Pepper's parent's anniversary party and how Pepper was going to kill him. Steve had stopped paying attention about ten kilometers back. He was having enough of his own problems.

It wasn't that he had a problem with Germany. He'd come to terms with everything that had happened all those years ago and with Hitler dead, Germans no longer seemed a threat, only another country with its own people living normal lives. But this forest. The seemingly never-ending lines of trees and hushed silence that enveloped them. It was just too similar to that forest he had trudged through all those years ago, Bucky at his side. Harsh memories of wartime crept up on him, washing over his senses until he could only distantly hear the murmur of his companions around him. The ache and wounds inflicted on his body by the recent battle weren't helping matters either.

"What's that?" Tony's child-like enthusiasm finally broke through the fog on his mind, making his head snap up and turn in the direction the man (his suit had been so badly damaged that Tony was forced to leave it behind in the middle of nowhere, leaving him in only a tattered tee, jeans, and one sneaker) was pointing. Squinting through the trees in the steadily fading light, Steve could just make out lights in the distance. As he concentrated he realized the sound of laughter and music could just barely be heard as well.

"I didn't think there'd be anything this far out," Bruce muttered, clinging to the pants he'd managed to scrounge up before they began trekking out, though Steve had no idea where he'd gotten them.

Quickly, the Captain came to a decision, "Alright, we really can't do much without some sort of supplies and a way out of here. Let's go see what we can find." The others nodded in agreement, straightening as they marched more determinedly than before through the remaining woods and towards civilization.

Civilization turned out to be a small hamlet of a town caught in the middle of celebrations for Oktoberfest. A large tent filled to the brim with partiers drinking heavily and occasionally eating mountains worth of food took up a great portion of space with a sort of street fair lined the rest of the miniscule roads. Children ran from vendor to vendor buying treats and souvenirs while their parents had their own fun at the beer tent. There was an odd mixture of people wearing traditional lederhosen and dirndls and modern jeans and t-shirts with thick winter coats. Music and laughter filled the air, coming from every direction.

Steve took it all in with a critical eye. It was so hard to believe that Germany was once such a harsh place with repressed people. Looking at them now, they could be in any country in the world during a holiday, America included. Only a few cultural differences separated them now, rather than the worldwide combat he had grown up in.

It wasn't long until the battle worn Avengers to be spotted. Drunken shouts of excitement were thrown up a second before they were practically surrounded by Germans intent to feed and clothe them. Steve was dragged off by a chattering couple speaking in broken English until he found himself away from his team in a modest home with two small children looking up at him wide-eyed. He was handed neatly folded clothes and pushed into a back room to change.

He blinked at the poster-covered wall in confusion. His faced stared back at him, some from a time a long ago. Old posters from World War Two were framed and hung in places of honor with random newer posters with the Avengers were tacked up hastily. Something within him at the sight. Here he was, standing in a stranger's home in Germany, borrowed clothes still held tightly in his hands as he stared at was more-or-less a shrine to Captain America. Well, shrine was probably a bit much. He was clearly in the children's room, if the twin beds and toys scattered around were anything to go by, and as far as he knew children didn't make shrines.

Shaking himself out of those thoughts, he quickly slipped out of his ruined uniform and into the jeans and shirt given to him. They fit surprisingly well. A knock kept him from slipping back into his surprised stupor.

"Yes, come in," he called, feeling a bit foolish.

An older gentleman shuffled in, leaning heavily on a cane. He stopped on the threshold, staring bleary-eyed at Steve for a long moment before a small smile crossed his features, "So you're really here? I thought my granddaughter had been joking."

"You're American?" Steve found himself saying before he could stop himself.

The man laughed at his fumbled apology and nodded, "I was a GI during the war. Fell in love and never left." He shrugged. "Isn't that always the story?"

Steve grinned, relaxing as the man, Thomas, started talking about what he remembered from the war, how he'd collected all the Captain America posters and later gave them to his grandchildren who were just as fanatic about the American hero as he had been. Finally a female voice called them from the front room and the two war veterans joined the rest of the family. Steve happily took pictures with them all and signed a few autographs before they all trooped back out into the night to rejoin the festivities, the youngest boy clinging to Steve's back like a monkey.

Later, when Steve managed to find his friends again, it was to Natasha using Tony's phone to record the genius dressed in lederhosen, drunkenly dancing with several locals on top of tables while others cheered them on.