Peter Parker One Shots

Steve and the Ice

The first The first time Steve met Spider-Man, he was deciding whether or not to jump off the bridge.

Steve's tried, okay? He was in a bit of shock after coming out of the ice and hadn't been able to feel much of anything. With the ice and the Chitauri, he hadn't had time to process Bucky, the end of the war, the fact that everyone he knew and loved was dead or dying. He hadn't wanted to. Fury telling him about aliens and the Avengers Initiative had been a fucking godsend. He pushed Steve Rogers deep down and was only Captain America.

Then things slowed down, and Steve had time to think. Thinking was not good for his state. Thinking for him was more feeling the weight of everything crushing him. When Stark invited them all to live in the Tower, Steve had jumped on it. It hurt to think about, and he couldn't help but feel that he was betraying his old friends, but he could see the Avengers becoming his new Howling Commandos.

But the Avengers didn't want Steve Rogers. They just wanted Captain America. There was no "Steve." Only "Rogers," "Captain," "Cap," or maybe even a "Capsicle," if Tony was feeling pushy.

And Captain America, well, he had to be strong. He couldn't cry, couldn't be sad, couldn't grieve. He couldn't be weak. He could maybe be angry, but not too much. He always had to stay in control.

Steve Rogers wanted to cry and mourn for the people he lost through the ice. Captain America had to plan and drill for the next alien attack. Steve Rogers wanted to make friends, maybe ask some of his teammates if they wanted to go out for a drink. Captain America had to keep a professional relationship with the other Avengers. Steve Rogers only knew the basics of how to use a cell phone, television, and Google. He wanted to know more, wanted to ask, when he didn't want to destroy the computer out of sheer frustration. Captain America could not look dumb and uneducated. Steve Rogers cried himself to sleep more often than not and woke up screaming from nightmares. Captain America was never to shed a tear. If there was one thing that had remained prominent since he was defrosted it was that Steve Rogers wasn't needed. Wasn't wanted.

And after a couple of months, he realized that Captain America wasn't really needed, either.

Back in the War, there had been just him. But now there were half a dozen other superheroes, with more cropping up every week. That asshole in Hell's Kitchen for instance, and that private eye who could bench-press cars. There were people here who were geniuses, who knew everything there was to know about technology, who had mastered a dozen different styles of martial arts, who could call lightning and turn into beings of raw destructive power. What was an outdated SEO 'star' with a shield compared to that?

These were the thoughts that swirled through Steve's head as he walked across the bridge early Saturday morning. The sun was barely up. He'd started at a jog, but the more he thought the more tired he became. Not in a physical sense, but he just couldn't bring himself to run when it was taking every effort just to breathe. What would it be like to just...stop?

He glanced over the railing. The black water far below was slowly turning blue. It probably wouldn't kill him. He'd survived crashing a plane from half a mile up into the Arctic ocean. A five-story drop into lukewarm water wasn't gonna cut it. He wished it would. He wished he could frame it as an accident, look out over the water and fall "by accident" and this whole thing would be over. He kept thinking. A shotgun blast to the head would do the trick, though. It'd be easy to get. He wouldn't do it in the Tower, though. Wouldn't be right to make Stark clean up his mess. He'd go somewhere quiet...

"Dorito?"

Steve jumped, then cursed. He had enhanced hearing. He had no excuse to let anything sneak up on him.

Perched on the railing, half-hidden by shadows, was a small man in red and blue, holding out a bag of Doritos. The mask covering his face was rolled up to his nose, revealing smooth pale skin with a bit of baby fat. Steve instinctively assumed the demeanor of Captain America: firm voice, straight shoulders, hard eyes. "Spider-Man."

Spider-Man tipped his head. He grinned. "Oh, wow. You're Captain Rogers! I didn't even recognize you!"

Steve didn't say anything. He'd never met the new vigilante in person. None of the Avengers had, as far as he knew. This guy was small-fry. SHIELD had some interest, but since the man was far more focused on drug dealers and muggers than aliens and armies, he wasn't high on the list.

"You want a Dorito?" he offered again.

Steve looked at the bag, then took a couple of chips. As soon as he bit, he spat it back out. Spider-Man chuckled. "Not a fan of spicy Nacho, huh?"

"What the hell is that?" he demanded.

"A flavor of Dorito with some extra spice on them." Spider-Man smiled a loopy smile at him, then took a whole handful of the devil-chips and shoved them in his mouth. "So, Captain, I know you probably don't want to be bothered and all, but I have some very important questions to ask you."

Steve bit back the groan, the familiar dread tightening around his lungs. It was so hard to breathe as he braced himself for the usual: Avenger business, strategies, villains, maybe something about the 1930s/40s. Every now and then he'd get "What's your favorite thing about the 21st Century?" (The real answer was "Not a damn thing," but he always made something up.)

"Pizza or hot dogs?"

Steve blinked. "What?"

"Pizza or hot dogs?" Spider-Man repeated. "Which is your favorite?"

"Uh...hot dogs." Mostly because they'd been around in Steve's time.

He made a face. "Okay, then. Star Trek or Star Wars?"

"I don't know what either of those are." The normal annoyance that came with him saying that--and he said that a lot--wasn't as thick as usual. Mostly he was confused. This guy wasn't following the usual script, and it was, to borrow Stark's words, "weirding him out."

"Okay, you need to get on that. Just, for the love of all that is holy, don't watch the prequels."

"What's the point of watching a movie if you can't make fun of how bad it is?" Steve asked.

"That's what horror movies are for. Okay, pirates or ninjas?"

"Ninjas."

Spider-Man sputtered and clutched his chest. "Captain America! I thought I could trust you!"

Steve shrugged. "If you know a better term for Black Widow and Hawkeye, do let me know."

"Point." Spider-Man balled up the empty bag and tossed it in the nearby trash. "Okay, favorite Girl Scout cookie?"

The Girl Scouts were still around? Steve wondered. What he said was: "There's more than one type now?"

"Oh, totally! Check out their thin mints when you get the chance. Oh! And the samoas! And recently they just came out with this s'more flavor that's really good but super crumbly..."

"How many of them have you had recently?" Steve asked.

"Not a lot. Fourteen. Why?"

"Because I assume they're full of sugar, and I also assume you've had way too much."

"Nah, that's just adrenaline. Long night, you know?"

Something beeped. Spider-Man pulled back his sleeve and pressed a button on his electric watch.

"Got somewhere to be?" Steve asked.

"Yeah." Spider-Man pulled his mask down all the way and crouched, but didn't leave just yet. He looked at Steve. "Are you okay? You were looking a little forlorn-ish for a minute."

Steve almost gave is automatic "I'm fine," when he realized he was, in fact, the closest to being fine he'd been in a long time. He even managed a tiny smile. "I'm getting there."

Spider-Man didn't say anything for a long moment. "If you...um, I don't know, need something...or just another superhero to talk to, let me know, okay? I know you have a whole team and whatnot but...I don't know."

"Sure," Steve said, surprised at the offer. He watched Spider-Man jump of the bridge and glide away on his webs. He realized it was the first conversation he'd had since coming out of the ice that had nothing to do with Captain America. It had been extremely boring: no aliens, no supervillains, no reports or debriefings.

It was the best thing he'd ever heard.

~~

They saw each other a handful of times after that. Normally it was in combat. Spider-Man was still almost exclusively small-scale, but when something major like alien invasions or robot armies attacked New York, he usually popped up to help evacuate civilians. He couldn't stick around; the NYPD had it in for him. But nine times out of ten he found Steve during or immediately after the mess. Steve would be helping with the post-battle rescue, hauling debris away to get to trapped civilians or making sure the abandoned weapons didn't fall into the wrong hands, and suddenly a pair of red-and-blue hands would shove a water bottle and an energy bar at him, with a "Dude, you need to eat. If you pass out, Iron Man'll never let you live it down."

One time Spider-Man had a huge gash on his arm and refused to go to medical. Steve couldn't blame him: medical was SHIELD, and SHIELD wanted Spider-Man's identity. So he smuggled the vigilante away and saw to the wound himself.

"Does anyone know about your alter ego?" Steve asked, stitching up the gash.

Spider-Man shook his head. "No."

"Not your family?" He'd figured out a while ago that Spider-Man was young, probably not even legally a man. It didn't really bother him; plenty of teenagers had signed up for the war and gotten in. He would've been one of them if the war had started a few years earlier.

Spider-Man chuckled. "Definitely not. My aunt is more terrifying than any supervillain."

Steve paused. He'd said it lightly, but he knew how crushingly lonely it could be to be a masked hero. It was a heavy burden, and he didn't know how someone of Spider-Man's age could handle it, with smiles and jokes to boot.

"Remember when you said if I ever needed to talk, to come to you," Steve said, resuming his stitching. "The same goes for you."

He didn't know why he offered. He was the last person qualified to provide any kind of emotional help. The battle he waged just to get out of bed in the morning left him more exhausted than the Chitauri invasion.

Spider-Man smiled under the mask. "Thanks, Ca...Steve."

Steve pretended his hands weren't shaking as he tied the knot and cut the thread. It was the first time anyone had called him "Steve" since the ice.

~~

It was good for Steve, these little conversations with Spider-Man.

But it wasn't enough.

~~

A little over a month after first meeting Spider-Man, Steve decided he was done. It was yesterday's battle that had done it. There had been Doombots, a whole army of them. Steve had created a strategy and the Avengers were carrying it out, but it was abandoned barely ten minutes into the fight. Stark and Banner--who hadn't hulked out for this one--had figured out how to dismantle the robots, and had used Barton's aim to deliver the fatal blow while Romanov covered him. They had done it all without Captain America.

Steve had already known he was useless, but having such solid evidence thrown in his face was like getting sucker-punched.

Add to that the fact that he'd gotten maybe five hours of sleep all week due to the nightmares, and he was more than ready to leave.

One of the upsides of living with Stark: there was always an abundance of weapons lying around. So after writing a note and leaving it on his bed with his shield, he found a .44 magnum and walked out of the Tower at dawn.

He didn't go very far. He couldn't stand the city anymore, his home that was no longer his home. He went to an empty warehouse. There were dusty chairs and boxes that hadn't been opened in decades. Cliche, but at least no one would find him here.

"Steve?"

Or...so he thought.

"Steve, what are you doing?"

He sighed. He'd already pulled out the gun. "Walk away, Spider-Man."

"How about no?" The vigilante dropped from a hole in the ceiling, landing nimbly on his feet. "Give me the gun, Steve."

"Walk. Away," he gritted out.

"Give me one good reason why," Spider-Man snapped.

"I don't want to be here anymore," Steve said simply. "I'd rather not do this in front of you..."

Spider-Man ripped off his mask.

And shit, Steve had known he was young, but he'd expected the boy to at least be close to eighteen. He wouldn't believe it if this kid told him he had a driver's license. Especially since he was on the edge of crying.

"Steve, please," he begged. He held out his hand. "I don't want another person I care about to bleed out in my arms. So please, give me the damn gun."

And Steve couldn't say no to that. He found himself handing over the gun before consciously making the decision to do so. As soon as it was out of his hands, Spider-Man threw it away and webbed it against the wall so tight it would take an army to get it out.

Steve stumbled, drained of strength and filled with horror. He'd been about to blow his brains out in front of a (friend?) kid. What the hell was wrong with him?

Spider-Man caught him and they slid to the floor. Steve couldn't tell who was trembling: him or the vigilante. Probably both. He should've been embarrassed, being cradled by someone almost half his age. He didn't care. It just felt so good to be held. When was the last time anyone had touched him outside of missions?

"What is going on, Steve?"

He shouldn't tell him. He was Captain America. He had to be strong. No issues, no fear, no sadness...

Spider-Man hugged him a little tighter. "Please?"

It took a long time, but by the time the city was completely awake Steve had spilled everything: his loneliness, his grief, his uselessness.

When he was done, they were silent. They were still on the floor, still wrapped up in each other. Steve's face was leaning against Spider-Man's stomach. He still felt awful, still wanted to close his eyes and never open them again, but he felt...lighter.

"What about the other Avengers?" Spider-Man asked. "Surely they..."

Steve snorted. "They tried. They all asked me out for a lunch or walk around town at some point. I said yes at first. Thought I could finally start feeling normal. But all they wanted to talk to me about was strategy. Weapons. Tactics. It wasn't an escape, just another part of the cage."

"Idiots," Spider-Man grumbled. "Okay, to recap: you basically can't go anywhere or do anything without everyone trying to get a piece of your public persona, and you have zero opportunity to just be yourself. And there's the whole woke-up-seventy-years-in-the-future thing on top of that. That sound about right?"

Despite himself, Steve broke into a tight smile. "Yeah, you got it."

"Right. Okay. Um, you're probably going to hate this suggestion, but what about meeting people online?"

Steve grimaced.

"I know, I know, but hear me out," Spider-Man said. "Everyone on this planet knows your face, so you can't really connect with anyone on a personal level in person. But if you're online, you can just be Steve Rogers. There are hundreds of guys out there with the same name. It'd be like modern-day pen pals. And you'd get familiar with modern tech."

Steve didn't want to go anywhere near a computer, despite knowing that he needed to. He liked his news on paper and his conversations in person.

"Come on, man," Spider-Man prompted. "What do you have to lose?"

"I don't know how," Steve admitted.

"I'll show you. Just some basic stuff."

He sighed. "Fine."

"Yay! Do you have a phone?"

Steve startled. "We're doing this now?"

"Not if you don't want to. I just want to give you my number."

"Oh." Steve fished his phone out of his pocket. It involved pulling back and sitting up straight, which he didn't want to do. He felt drunk with all the physical contact and didn't want that to go away.

Spider-Man shifted and arranged them so they were both leaning against a covered desk, and against each other. Steve handed him the phone. After a few seconds of fiddling, Spider-Man handed it back. The new contact read "Spidey." "There. Next time, text or call me, okay? I'm serious. You might call yourself useless, but you are my friend. Half the time, you're the reason I put the suit on."

"Not sure whether I should be flattered or horrified," Steve said.

"I bring that out in people, personally. I say flattered." Spider-Man looked at the gun, still buried under layers of webbing on the wall and shuddered slightly. "Can I walk you back to the Tower?"

"You can come in with me," Steve offered, when he heard Spider-Man's stomach growl.

The teen grinned. "Beware: I will probably have a fanboy stroke."

"We'll steer clear of Iron Man and Dr. Banner." Steve had never asked who Spider-Man's favorite Avenger was, but whenever the kid talked about science--which was a lot--he usually mentioned some article or another written by Stark or Banner.

"Yeah, I think Dr. Banner agrees with the police and wants me arrested." Spider-Man stood. "We can set up your profile while we're there, if you want."

Steve followed suit with a sigh. "Fine. Get it over with."

"It'll be fun," Spider-Man promised. He moved to put on his mask, then paused.

Steve frowned. "Spider-Man?"

"It's Peter," he said. "Peter Parker."

Steve was floored. Secret identities were precious, and he didn't think there was another soul on the planet who knew Spider-Man's.

Steve smiled. If his eyes were a little watery, that was nobody's business. "It's good to meet you, Peter."

~~

Stark shuffled into the kitchen, then blinked blearily. "Uh, what?"

Peter--mask on and rolled up to his nose--saluted him from his spot on the counter. "Hey, Mr. Stark! I was just talking to JARVIS, which I'm totally geeking out over, by the way. I mean this is just fantastic."

"Thank you, Mr. Spider-Man," JARVIS said, sounding inordinately pleased.

Steve had to admit it was an odd, but endearing, sight: Spider-Man sitting cross-legged on the kitchen table shoveling cereal in his mouth and chatting to an artificial intelligence, Steve in front of him with an open laptop, fiddling with Facebook profile settings.

Stark made his way to the counter, muttering, "I need more coffee to deal with this."

"Where was I?" Peter asked.

"Something about avatars," Steve said.

"Oh, right! So normally people put a picture of themselves as their profile pic, obviously, but it can be anything. You can create your own cartoon, or use a random picture from the internet, or leave it blank if you want to be boring. But as JARVIS said, he can help you out if you want to get funky with graphics and photos."

Steve raised his eyebrows. His fingers itched for a drawing pencil, which almost made him jump out of his seat. He hadn't even thought about sketching since the ice.

"What are we talking about?" Stark asked, now armed with a mug of coffee.

"Facebook," Peter said.

Stark blinked, then turned to Steve. "SHIELD didn't get you onto social media?"

"They mentioned it," Steve said tightly. He was very aware of the fact that Stark was a part of his team, a team he had to lead into battle, that had to trust him. This was why he didn't want anyone else finding out about this. If he couldn't figure out something most kids mastered by the time they were ten, how could anyone trust him to navigate the complexities of a battlefield? He knew they should've done this on his floor rather than the communal living space.

The problem was he didn't have any food on his floor. His kitchen shelves were depressingly empty, and Peter's stomach had been growling so loud they were half-convinced it would jump out and get the food itself. (It wouldn't have even been the strangest thing to happen that week.) So, to the communal kitchen they went.

"Well, that was an oversight," Stark said. "If you wanted help, you could've just asked. You didn't have to drag in a Deadpool knock-off."

Peter almost dropped his bowl. "Whoa. What did I ever do to you?"

"Back off, Stark," Steve growled.

Stark held up his hands. "Kidding, kidding. Jeez. Forgive a guy for having crap humor this early in the morning."

"It's almost ten," Peter pointed out.

"It's before noon. That makes it early. And shouldn't you be in school?"

"What makes you think I go to school?" Peter's voice was level, but Steve caught the briefest glimpse of uncertainty.

"Because you're, what, twelve?" Stark asked. "And you're never around between seven and three on a weekday. Unless it's summer. Or spring break. We checked."

Steve felt like the shittiest person ever. Here he was keeping this boy from getting a proper education because he'd been moping about Facebook. Some captain he was.

Peter tipped his head. "Okay, you caught me. But I don't have class this morning. Professor called in sick." He fist-pumped. "Which is awesome, because it means the test is pushed back 'till Wednesday."

Steve frowned. Had he been wrong about Peter's age? Steve himself had certainly looked far younger than he actually was before he'd gotten the serum. Or maybe Peter was like Stark: a prodigy going to college years early. Or he could be lying through his teeth.

Stark didn't look like he bought it, but he didn't push. "Just don't make it a habit, kid. We've already got a spider living here."

"But you guys have the good cereal instead of the knock-offs," Peter whined.

"Get your own Tower, and then you can get your own good cereal."

What little enjoyment Steve had had since his attempted suicide this morning evaporated as Peter pouted. The next time he and Peter met up for "21st Century 101" (as Peter called it) they were incognito at a local library. He didn't bring Spider-Man back to the Tower. He'd heard that message loud and clear.

~~

Steve's drawing skills were rusty, but he managed to recreate his cartoon monkey from the SEO days and scan it into the computer with JARVIS's help. He thought it was fitting: he felt more like a performing monkey these days than he ever did on stage.

The first Facebook "friend" he made was, of course, Peter. Peter then introduced him to Groups, and after a bit of searching Steve found a few he actually wanted to join. Most of them were veterans' groups, and after scrolling through some comments Steve was both relieved and heartbroken that he was not the only person struggling.

Within two weeks and several friend requests, he found three dedicated digital pen pals: Mark, Violet, and Brandy (short for Brandon). Mark was an Air Force pilot still in service, Violet had lost both her legs to an IED, and Brandy's older brother was a vet who had committed suicide a couple of years ago. Steve talked to them one-on-one on Messenger and email two or three times a week, especially Brandy. The guy was so young, just turned twenty, and felt like a complete failure, taking the blame for his brother's death. Talking to Brandy made Steve feel both better--depressed or not, the guy had an amazing sense of humor--and worse. If Steve had gone through with his attempt, he could all too easily see Peter in Brandy's shoes.

Next was music. Steve couldn't stand to listen to pop, whatever the hell it was. It wasn't the lyrics; people have been singing about sex since the dawn of music, and he'd heard plenty of bawdy songs in the military. It was the sound. It was so synthetic, so fake, from the voices to the instruments. Which was a shame, because he loved Beyonce and everything she stood for, but just could not stand her music (an opinion he did not ever, ever share with anyone other than Peter, because he was trying not to be suicidal here).

Rock, even classic rock, was barely tolerable, an opinion that seemed to kill a small part of Peter's soul. But the kid kept trying, texting him YouTube videos and singer's websites every day until they found something.

'50s rock was pretty good, though Steve thought Elvis was a bit overrated. Adele was probably his favorite female singer from this time, and was excellent when he wanted to listen to sad music to match his mood. And then...

"Really? Country?" Peter asked, dodging a tentacle. "I sent that one as a joke."

It was an Assemble call. Some scientists had created a giant squid monster, it escaped and spawned, and now a few dozen of them were trampling over New York beaches. Because it had happened at night, Spider-Man had already been on patrol and had beaten the Avengers to the scene, distracting one of the squids to draw its attention away from the yummy-looking civilians.

"Well, I've downloaded about fifty songs already," Steve said, throwing his shield. It sliced off a tentacle and bounced back to him. "Most of them Chris Cornell."

"Oh, he's like the only country singer I can listen to. All the others drive me insane..." Peter paused, then suddenly turned and started sprinting away. "I've got an idea! Tell Iron Man to meet me on the docks!"

Steve didn't know what the teenager was thinking, but he relayed the message to Stark. Ten minutes later, all the squids were tangled up in nets, which had been roped together with spiderwebs. It would've taken much longer to get them all, with Stark being the only flyer, if there hadn't been the rather dramatic entry of a certain demigod.

"My friends!" Thor cheered, as soon as the squids were handled and they'd regrouped. He stunned Steve by swallowing him in a huge hug. "It is good to see you again! I came as soon as the Bifrost allowed."

After a second for his brain to realize that, yes, this was happening, Steve slowly patted him on the back. The only hugs he ever got were from Peter, who gave one every time they met up as civilians and a few times in costume, too. Peter's hugs made him feel cherished. Thor's made him feel safe. "Good to see you, too."

"What's this?" Stark asked, pulling off his helmet. "Rogers showing genuine emotion? Stop the presses!"

Steve fought a blush as he immediately stepped away from Thor.

Romanov smacked Stark over the head. At his betrayed, "Ow!" she scolded, "Oh, like you're such an expert on emotions, Mr. Palladium Poisoning."

"You're never gonna let me live that down," Stark grumbled.

"What poisoning?" Steve asked, on high alert. "Is there something we need to know?"

Stark waved it away. "It's fine. Found a cure and everything. Had to create a new element and it was touch-and-go for a while there, but yeah, all good."

"Oh, the arc reactor?" Peter asked, in a voice that was somehow both understanding and intrigued.

Thor startled, seeing Peter for the first time. "We have a new warrior in our ranks?"

"Er, more like a part-time volunteer," Banner said.

"What he means is Spider-kid over here--" Barton started.

"Spider-man," Peter corrected.

"--isn't as cool as us, so the local police want him locked up, but we let him hang around us because we're awesome. And hey, he's the one who thought of the nets, so..."

Thor thumped Peter on the back so hard the teen almost fell over. "Then it is an honor to make your acquaintance! Shall we find a hot meal to recover from the battle, per tradition?"

"I could eat," Banner said.

There was a round of agreements, except from Peter. He shifted his feet. "You guys go ahead. I've gotta start heading back."

"Spidey," Steve scolded gently. "I can hear your stomach growling."

"Couldn't fit your wallet in your spandex?" Stark guessed.

Peter struck a pose. "It would ruin my perfect silhouette."

Stark waved it away. "It's on me. Come on."

"Oh, I don't want you to..."

Steve grabbed Peter by the collar and steered him along. He saw Romanov giving him odd looks, but with Thor taking up everyone else's attention, it didn't bother him as much.

They couldn't find shawarma, but they did find a Burger King open at one in the morning. Steve couldn't tell what shocked the staff more: having the Avengers in their restaurant, or the sheer amount of food they ordered.

Because the squids hadn't taken nearly as much energy as the Chitauri, the group was a lot more talkative. Steve stayed quiet, content to listen. There wasn't much he could contribute to the conversation anyway. Stark and Banner were talking science, Romanov and Barton were arguing over Game of Thrones theories, and Peter was asking Thor questions about Asgard. The kid was bouncing up and down in his seat across from Steve, happy as a clam as he questioned Thor on his realm's history, science, and politics, absorbing everything the demigod said with rapt attention.

Until he ran out of burgers, that is. He'd ordered and eaten half a dozen "baconators." Steve himself had ordered one, having never tried them before, among his eight burgers and fries. After deciding they were the best damn thing since sliced bread, he'd ordered two more, had just finished one, and was unwrapping the second.

Peter stared at the burger, tongue poking out of his mouth. Steve narrowed his eyes. "Don't even think about it."

He thought about it. Then he did it.

A web shot out, and Steve's burger was yanked from his hands. Peter gave him a shit-eating grin and opened his mouth to take a bite.

Steve lunged across the table. Peter jumped out of the way and ran out the door, Steve right on his heels.

Five minutes later, Steve walked back into the restaurant, polishing off his burger with one hand with a grumbling Peter slung over his shoulder. He dropped the teen on the table and snatched the carton of fries from his tray. Peter sputtered. "Dude!"

"That's for putting me through the trouble," Steve said, returning to his seat with fries in hand.

Peter crossed his arms and sulked. "Righteous man with a plan my ass."

Steve smirked. Then he realized how dead silent the table was.

Thor looked merely amused, probably chalking the little show to typical human behavior, as he bit into another burger. The others, on the other hand, were staring at Steve as if they'd never seen him before.

"What?" he asked defensively, hiding his self-consciousness behind a veil of authoritative anger.

It snapped them out of it. "Nothing," Stark said. "Just surprised you have a juvenile streak as wide as mine."

The conversation slowly resumed, but Steve kept to himself after that. The few times someone tried to bring him into a conversation, even Peter, he kept his answers curt and to the point. It obviously bothered Peter, though he didn't push. But what really unnerved Steve was the considering look Romanov kept giving him.

~~

Steve still had bad days, obviously. A few Facebook friends and songs weren't going to cure any problems overnight.

He studied his phone, fingers ghosting over the buttons. He was sitting on his bed after his morning run, very aware of the knives in the kitchen, the three pistols he had hidden on his floor, how fatal a jump from the roof of the Tower would be...

Peter had demanded that Steve tell him whenever he got like this, no matter what time it was or what the reason was. They had a code: just type "X." Steve had done it a couple of times before, and Peter had immediately called him. But this was different. It was eleven in the morning, on a school day.

He knew Peter was a junior in high school. He and his aunt had just celebrated his seventeenth birthday. Steve, his artistic abilities slowly returning (with some help from YouTube drawing videos), had given him a framed cartoon sketch of a little boy playing with a pair of tarantulas. Peter's grin at opening the present could've powered a city.

He also knew that Peter was getting ready to take some major exams that would determine his future options: college and vocational school. He didn't want to drag Peter's focus away from that.

"I want you to think about what would happen if we were reversed," Peter had told him, when Steve had brought this up a few weeks ago. "If you were in a SHIELD meeting or whatever, and I was wondering what a bullet would taste like--"

"Don't," Steve had pleaded, unable to bear the thought of his vibrant boy even thinking like that. "I get it."

With a sigh, Steve typed "X" on his phone and sent the text.

When it didn't ring, he shoved the disappointment aside and reminded himself that this was what he wanted. Peter had a life, for God's sake. He couldn't waste time coddling a fully grown--

His phone rang. He almost dropped it in surprise before answering. "Peter?"

"Hey, sorry," Peter said, his voice a little echo-y. "Had to get a bathroom pass. What's going on?"

"I...well, nothing, to be honest. I don't even know why..."

"That's okay. Sometimes it's just a bad day." There was a thoughtful silence before Peter suggested, "Have you talked to Thor?"

"Thor?" Steve echoed. "It's only been a week since he got back. He's mostly been with Dr. Foster."

"Well, considering how busy his girlfriend is breaking the laws of physics, I'd bet good money that he could use some company right now."

Steve winced. "I don't know..."

"Steve. First of all, the guy is a prince. So that whole 'I can't be friends with the other Avengers because they need me to be the leader' is total BS. Nobody has any authority over him. Except his parents, obviously. You're not responsible for him the way you are for the others. And two, he's on an alien planet. He has no knowledge of the geographical area, no clue of our history, very little experience with human beings and how we think...when he's not with Foster, he's probably as lonely as you are."

Steve seriously doubted it, considering the fact that Thor's family and loved ones were just a quick Bifrost hop away. But he got the point. And considering how Thor liked to blend the line between "co-Avenger" and "best friend," with any luck he'd be more interested in Steve rather than "the good Captain."

"I'll ask," Steve said.

"Great!" Peter cheered. A bell rang in the background. He groaned. "I've gotta go. Tell me how it went, okay? If you want, we can meet up later. I still have to show you sushi."

Steve made a face. He had no idea how raw fish could be appetizing, but Peter swore up and down it was one of the best things in the world. "Will do. Good luck in school, Peter."

After he hung up, he continued to sit on his bed for a while. It took a long time to convince himself that he wouldn't be bothering Thor, that he deserved to be Steve Rogers and not Captain America for one goddamn day, that...

Someone knocked on the door.

Frowning, Steve stood and answered, and was somehow un-surprised to see Thor.

What did surprise him was the phone in the other man's hand, which he was staring at curiously.

"Our friendly Man of Spiders has sent me a message," Thor said, looking up from what was probably a text. "He suggests that you and I visit a museum of art, or perhaps history."

Steve stared at him. "You have Spider-Man's number?"

"Indeed! He wrote it down for me the night of the squid battle, so that I may contact him when I got my own cellular device. I called upon him immediately after I acquired it, so that he may call me for assistance, should he ever need it."

In the back of Steve's mind, he started thinking about creating a contact sheet for all supers in the area--if not the world--that could be shared with all other supers. Networking and emergency contacts and whatnot. At the moment, he said, "So, you wanna see some art?"

Thor grinned. "I am always willing to explore Midgard's culture."

~~

Thor helped. A lot.

It turned out the guy was lonely. He was just a lot more optimistic about it. He had Dr. Foster, of course, and Selvig and Lewis. But whenever they weren't available, he did not hesitate to reach out to the other Avengers. And since everyone but Steve had a day job, the prince and supersoldier often found themselves exploring New York together. Tabloids started featuring photos of the two of them eating ice cream, talking to admiring kids, or just strolling through the park. Sometimes the paparazzi bothered Steve. He was trying to have a normal day, and could they please shove their camera-phones up their ass? But if it was a group of kids playing "Avengers" in the park, complete with sloppily-painted shield and plastic Iron Man helmet, or a tourist asking for a selfie before thanking them for all they did, or a barista who gave them a sympathetic smile and a hot coffee on the house after watching them battle off a wave of reporters...that was all right.

If the reporters were especially lucky, they'd get a trifecta: Steve, Thor, and Spider-Man. Peter was always careful not to be seen with the two of them outside of costume, but if he was on patrol and happened to spot the two of them out on the town, he tended to drop onto Steve's shoulders and refuse to come off until he got a piggy-back ride. One time this resulted in a play-sparring session in a park, where Steve tried to body-slam Peter by falling backwards, only the little brat was stubborn and refused to let go. A YouTube video went viral of their little "say uncle!" scuffle, with Thor laughing in the background. When some of Steve's Facebook friends shared it with him, not knowing that he was one of the stars, he couldn't help but smirk.

The other Avengers kept their distance. He sparred with Romanov and Barton, critiqued Stark's tech, strategized about dealing with the Hulk with Banner, worked with Fury and Hill and the rest of SHIELD when the occasion called for it. But the lines were very clear: they were co-workers. They only wanted to talk to Captain America.

And that was fine. Because he had people who wanted to talk to Steve. He had friends. He had Peter and Thor, and his fellow veterans online, and even a bunch of groupies on DeviantArt. That site that had been suggested to Steve by Violet after he'd shared a few sketches on his Facebook profile, which led to the two of them bonding even closer because she was also on DeviantArt and created some truly haunting paintings to help her deal with her PTSD. Her talent and skill were unreal; Steve was so jealous...

And then it all changed again.

~~

It was immediately after a battle. It had been brief, and honestly something that probably could've been dealt with by local military. That was probably why Steve was in such a rotten mood. Well, that, and the fact that Spider-Man had jumped in to help, as he usually did, and ended up spraining his wrist. Steve had helped him fend of SHIELD medical--again--before sending him home, gritting his teeth because the kid was hurt, and it didn't matter that he had super-healing, he'd gotten hurt because of a stupid mission at four in the morning on a school night that hadn't even required superhero intervention.

The other Avengers were laughing and cheering, buzzing from the spike in adrenaline and no outlet. It was like dealing with a bunch of children on a sugar high.

And not even that would bother Steve, except for what they were talking about.

"You did not kill a hundred giants by yourself," Barton accused as they walked down the sidewalk. They were only four blocks away from the Tower, so no need to call a cab. "I know you're tough, Thor, but come on."

"Aye, 'tis true!" Thor insisted. "Through the mighty force of Mjolnir, I created a thunder blast that ripped the mountain to shreds, thus destroying the ice giants."

"Bullshit," Stark sang. "There's no way that thing can tear through a mountain."

"Don't tempt him into trying to prove it," Romanov scolded.

"Well, if the mountain is isolated enough, I don't see much harm in giving it a go..." Banner said.

Romanov sighed. "Rogers, a little help?"

Steve gritted his teeth, feeling his tether snap. "Can we not talk about our day job?"

That made the group pause. Stark narrowed his eyes. "What else are we supposed to talk about, Cap?"

"Anything," he said. "It doesn't even matter if I understand it or not. I don't care. Just...anything other than combat. I just...today, I just can't."

After a beat, Barton shrugged. "Yeah, that's fair. Oh, Thor, has anyone introduced you to football yet?"

"Nay. What is it?"

They went back to talking, and with the exception of the topic switching to sports (and in Stark and Banner's case, science), it was as if Steve had never spoken.

Except for Romanov. She looked at him as if she'd been struck by lightning.

~~

The next day saw Steve in the gym. It was pouring outside, so he was doing his jog on the track. He'd just finished up and was ready to go a few rounds with a punching bag when Romanov came in.

"Care for a spar?" she asked.

Sparring with Black Widow was always an experience. Steve often lost. He didn't mind. He learned a lot, and it was comforting to know that it would take an awful, awful lot to bring down his teammate.

After they were drenched in sweat, gulping water, and covered in bruises, Romanov cleared her throat. "How are you holding up, Rogers?"

The question took him completely by surprise. "I'm...good, I guess."

She raised an eyebrow. "You guess?"

He shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."

"I mean in this century. It just...it occurred to me last night that, with the exception of Thor, none of us have helped you with any of your personal problems."

Did she know? God, Steve hoped she didn't know. If the Avengers knew that he had attempted suicide, that he still flirted with those thoughts, what would happen to him? Would they refuse to let him lead? Would they refuse to let him on the team?

He kept his face completely neutral. "I'm all right. I'm picking up a few things, internet and whatnot. Been catching up on some history. Made a few friends."

Romanov studied him, like she was trying to see through him. Then, completely out of the blue, she asked, "Do you like cats?"

He blinked. "Cats?"

"Or dogs. I volunteer at a shelter every week. It's a nice break from dealing with people. They're always looking for an extra pair of hands."

Steve stared at her. "Black Widow" and "pet shelter" were two things he never thought would end up in the same sentence. "I...honestly don't know. I was allergic to them growing up, and then after the serum I didn't get much of a chance to find out."

She smiled. "Thursday afternoon?"

"...yeah," he said, then a little more confidently. "Yeah, that sounds great. Thanks, Romanov."

"Natasha," she said.

He smiled. "Steve."

~~

Black Widow was a crazy cat lady. Who knew?

On a related note, Steve found out that he absolutely, positively, did not like cats.

They didn't like him, either. Natasha spent the last half hour at the shelter on their first day dabbing disinfectant into the red scratches on his arms, legs, and face, wincing in sympathy.

Dogs, on the other hand, were a completely different matter. They weren't picky and snobby like the feline jerks. Any bites and scratches they gave were usually an accident. They were always excited to see a familiar face, no matter if he was in a rotten mood because he'd been hounded by the press all the way to the shelter. And the shriek Peter made when he dropped onto Steve's shoulders per usual, only to be tackled to the ground by the dog he'd been walking, made Steve laugh so hard he almost fell over.

(Later it occurred to him that that was the first time he'd laughed in seventy years.)

The other volunteers at the animal shelter barely blinked when Steve showed up. He supposed they were so used to having Black Widow around every week that Captain America barely phased them. The only time it came up was when the receptionist, a little old lady named Judy with silver-blue hair and coffee-colored skin, told him that her uncle had served in World War Two, and had been one of the men Steve rescued from Zemo's camp.

Other than that, Judy liked to talk to him about baking, and her grandchildren, and how hard she'd whollop his ass if he kept teasing her about the trashy romance novels she read. Steve seriously considered asking her to join SHIELD; she was terrifying when she was shaking a paperback Harlequin at him.

The other usual volunteer, Jacob, didn't talk to Steve much. Seemed to outright avoid him. It wasn't until much later, after Steve had publicly opposed the "Bathroom Bill" (because come on, really?) that Jacob stopped leaving the room every time Steve walked in. Eventually he told Steve that he had been assigned female at birth, and hadn't been sure how a man from the 1940s would've reacted to that, national icon or no.

Jacob was also a fellow art nut, and they'd spend their hours together gushing/arguing over certain styles (Jacob liked Cubism, which Steve thought was overrated and vastly preferred Impressionism). He introduced Steve to manga, which, while he couldn't really get into the stories of the comics, he found the art style very intriguing. They would groom and walk the dogs and clean the kennels and bitch about the cats, because Jacob hated them, too, and it was good. It was great.

And then, tragedy struck.

Steve was in the kitchen on the common floor, staring at his phone in dismay. He barely heard Barton and Stark come in, bickering about arrowheads.

"Jeez, Cap, you looked like someone killed a puppy," Stark commented, tone teasing. "Who died?"

"Chris Cornell," he said seriously.

"WHAT?"

They both looked up at Barton.

"Overdose," Steve explained, handing over his phone. "They're thinking suicide."

Barton snatched it and scrolled through. His shoulders slumped. "Aw, no! No no no no no..."

Stark grimaced. "That sucks. I met him a few times; he was a cool guy."

"I had tickets to his concert," Barton moaned.

Steve perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah!" He handed the phone back. "I didn't realize you were a fan. I would've invited you."

Stark snorted, opening the fridge. "You guys have no taste in music."

"His songs are one of the few things that actually count as music in this century," Steve bit out.

"Yeah, him and Johnny Cash," Barton said.

Steve looked at the ceiling dreamily. "Oh, I wish I'd been around for Cash..."

Stark closed the fridge, staring at them. "Okay, I expected this kind of thing from Mr. Midwest over here, but you, Cap? Brooklyn, born and raised?"

Steve shrugged. "I have wide horizons."

Stark looked like he was about to laugh, but clearly decided against it when Barton resumed bemoaning the loss of Cornell.

After the so-called genius left, Barton turned to Steve. "Wanna eat ice cream and listen to Higher Truth?"

"That sounds phenomenal," Steve said.

An hour later, when he and Clint were arguing over whether or not Cornell sounded best on his own or with Audioslave, Steve realized he hadn't texted his "X" code to Peter, like he'd planned when he'd first heard the news. He didn't have to.

~~

After Natasha and Clint, Banner was the next Avenger to get on a first-name basis with Steve. Steve hadn't expected it at all. Of all the Avengers, he spent the least amount of time with Banner, if you cut out his alter ego. It was purely by chance that he had been on the common floor getting tea while Steve and Clint had been on the couch trying to decide a movie, and Steve had asked, "What on Earth is Lord of the Rings?"

"An epic fantasy trilogy," Banner answered from the kitchen. "They're based off of a book series by J. R. R. Tolken."

Steve was up like a shot, leaving the couch so fast Clint landed on the floor. He went straight to Banner. "Tolken? The man who wrote The HobbitTolken?"

Banner blinked. "Ye-es."

"He wrote more books?!"

"Did no one tell you this?"

Steve was going to have a very long talk with SHIELD about what was considered important cultural information in the Twenty-First Century. "No, no one told me this! How many are there?"

"Technically six," Banner said. "But they were condensed into three. You read The Hobbit?"

"I read all of his books in the '30s," Steve said. "Bucky and I both did. He used to read them to me when I was sick."

At that, Steve shut his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that. He had barely breathed Bucky's name since the train, never mind shared such a close memory. It was too raw.

Banner's eyes softened. "I have copies, if you want to read them."

"Yes, please," Steve said.

"Wanna watch the movies?" Clint called.

"No! I need to read the books first. That's why I haven't seen any of the Harry Potter movies yet."

"Which book are you on in that series?" Banner asked.

"Six."

Banner paused. "Which part?"

Steve frowned. "Harry and Dumbledore just left the cave with the horcrux. Why do you ask?"

"...no reason."

~~

Steve put Harry Potter on hold so he could rip through the Lord of the Rings series. After the first book, it had taken Bruce days to convince him to read the second, because, "I can't believe he killed off Gandalf! That was my favorite character! The series isn't worth reading without him in it."

He is so glad Bruce convinced him to finish the series.

After he'd read the books, Steve, Bruce, and Clint watched the movies together, extended edition. They invited Stark to join them, but the genius had scoffed and declared Star Wars the far superior trilogy.

Steve had seen Star Wars. He had not been impressed.

After Lord of the Rings, Steve resumed Harry Potter. And raged to Bruce (and later Peter) after finishing The Half-Blood Prince. And then The Deathly Hallows. ("She killed off Fred! How could she? Sirius's death was bad enough!")

Bruce just smiled, shaking his head a little, before suggesting some new books from his shelf.

It became a tradition. Steve would read a book, rant at Bruce, if there was a movie they'd watch that together (often with Clint), debate whether or not the movie did the book justice, and then start over. Occasionally Steve would find a book that Bruce hadn't read and suggest it to him, but that was rare. Bruce was an incredibly well-read man.

So of course Steve took it as a personal challenge. He tried to find and read a book Bruce hadn't gotten to at least every other month. JARVIS helped him. When Bruce found out, he seemed to go out of his way to read as many books as possible so he could get to them first. It turned into "the geekiest race I've ever heard of, and can I get in on it" (asked Peter), and was an excellent way to spend his time when Steve couldn't sleep for nightmares.

What Steve didn't realize was that his relationship with Bruce spilled out onto the field. Everyone saw Bruce and Hulk as two separate people. And maybe they were, in a sense. But they definitely shared a few things, like loyalty.

During a battle, Steve got pinned beneath a crumbling building. Nothing had fallen directly on him, not yet, but if he didn't move now, then he'd get crushed when the building did fall. The problem was there were a small army of mutants keeping him trapped.

"Shit, Steve, hold on tight," Clint called. "Where's Thor?"

"Busy," the demigod gritted out.

"Tony?"

"Dealing with flyers here."

"Anyone seen Spidey?"

"He's out of town," Steve said. Chicago, visiting relatives. He was going to be so mad when he realized he missed a battle.

The rubble shifted. Steve closed his eyes.

A terrible roar made them open. Hulk crashed into view. But instead of going after the mutants, he went straight to Steve. He pushed away a slab of cement and yanked Steve out just as the building fell. Bricks and rubble fell on his massive green shoulders, but he just grunted, set a dazed Steve on the ground, and ran over to the mutants.

Steve sat there for a long moment, before Natasha yelled at him and he snapped back into action. After, when he was alone in his room, he burst into hysterical giggles that turned to tears. Because he realized that in that moment, when the building had been about to fall on him, he hadn't wanted to die.

~~

The last to go from "coworker" to "friend" was Stark.

That didn't surprise him. Not in the least. As Howard's son, Stark was a painful reminder of everything Steve had lost. But as time wore on, and he grew more used to this century, he realized that Stark was also everything he could gain. A rebirth.

The ball started rolling, as seemed oh-so-common these days, after a battle. Demons, this time. It hadn't been pretty. The damage was almost Chitauri-level. It hadn't just been Avengers out there. It seemed every super in New York got involved: a few X-Men visiting the city, Daredevil, and of course, Spider-Man.

After the battle was won, the Avengers stayed to help with clean-up. Spider-Man also hung around. When Steve quietly suggested that he go home (it was almost eleven at night), Peter pointed out that it was a weekend, and he'd already called his Aunt to tell her he was all right.

The construction crew had to practically bully the superheros into stopping to get some rest after a few hours, or to at least eat something. Considering the fact that Steve was starting to get a little light-headed, he didn't feel guilty about calling a thirty-minute break.

"So, Spidey," Stark said casually as they started walking to a 24-hour diner. "What've you been up to?"

Peter shrugged. "Little of this, little of that. I keep trying to take it easy, but you guys keep getting into trouble."

"Not our fault trouble finds us so attractive," Clint quipped.

A month ago, Steve would've stayed silent, would've tuned it out. Now, he said, "Well, some of us, at least."

"Hey, I'm not the one covering my face with a cowl or mask."

"I make up for it with the skin-tight spandex," Peter said, sashaying his hips in a way that made Natasha gag.

Stark snorted. "Yeah, no. You need a real uniform kid, so stop by the Tower one of these days and we'll talk."

Peter stared at Stark, then glanced at Steve. They shared a confused look through his mask. "Uh, we got the impression that you didn't want non-Avengers around the Tower, Mr. Stark."

Stark stopped. He looked at Peter and Steve like he had no idea what he was talking about, and when he got it, he pinched his eyes. "Look guys, you can't take anything I say seriously. Unless I'm serious, and then I won't be talking seriously. Understand?"

"No," Peter said.

"Okay, then. Let's get some food."

~~

Apparently, Stark wasn't kidding when he talked about getting Spider-Man new armor, because he showed up in Steve's room a week later to badger him about it.

"All right, I'll call him and tell him to come over," Steve said. He said it with his usual stoic, Captain America persona, but inside he was relieved. Peter danced between bullets on a regular basis. Getting him some Stark-tech would exponentially increase his chances for survival.

Stark started to leave, then looked back at Steve. "You know, they have drawing apps these days. It'd cut down the amount of eraser debris you leave around the Tower."

Steve looked down at his sketchbook and grimaced. "I tried those. Doesn't work. Not for me, anyway."

"What?" Stark pulled a tablet from seemingly nowhere and shoved it into Steve's hands. "Show me."

For the next half hour, Steve went through the various drawing apps and critiqued them with Stark. The genius would ask the occasional question, but mostly just listened. Steve found it kind of unnerving, given how loud and boisterous and non-stop-talk the man usually was, but it also made him feel special. Stark was an insanely busy person, and here he was taking a significant chunk of time to listen to just Steve and his art passion.

"Huh," Stark said at last. He had that manic spark in his eyes that meant he'd just thought of something that would either A) revolutionize the world, and/or B) end in an explosion. "Excuse me."

He left without a word. It wasn't unusual behavior.

Steve completely forgot about their conversation until two days later, when Stark summoned him to the workshop. Steve figured he was about to see a new uniform or weapons design. Instead, a sleep-deprived, caffeine-crazed Stark shoved another tablet at him and said, "Use the app. Tell me how it works."

Admittedly, Steve was skeptical at first. He'd gotten this far without using a fancy computer screen for his sketches. What could possibly change his mind now?

Two hours later, Steve went to Stark and said, "Change these three things, and then if you don't market this to every art student in the country I swear to God, I'm kicking you off the team."

Over the next few weeks, they worked on the app together, testing and tweaking. Steve had no idea how the software behind it worked, how typing a few numbers here could result in a totally new design there. But Stark never teased him for his lack of knowledge. He did tease him for some of the sketches Steve used with the app while testing it out, but Steve realized it wasn't to be mean. It was just poking fun. And Stark's face turned into something soft and fond when he saw the drawing of the cartoon Avengers eating/falling asleep/snoring on the table after a battle.

After Stark got all the information he could out of Steve, the app went to R&D, then marketing. Three months later, SI's new drawing app was listed number one across art schools, graphic design companies, and freelancers.

The best part about the whole thing wasn't just the thrill of creating something, or even watching it make such an impact. It was the chance to see Stark in his element, to be able to work with that genius while it was in full swing, without the threat of explosion hanging over their heads. Seeing that side of the man had been incredible, humbling, and very amusing.

Steve sat at the kitchen, working on a new sketch while eating some crackers, when Stark burst in. "Hey, Steve, since the drawing app was such a success, what do you think about a painting app? You know, if you can pry yourself away from the screen for a few minutes. I swear, you're worse than a teenager these days."

Steve blinked. It took him a minute to form an answer and get it past his suddenly dry mouth. "That...that sounds like it'd be really fun. Tony."

~~

"I am both terrified and giddy with geekiness," Spider-Man declared, slowly getting to his feet.

The Avengers followed suit, groaning at various cuts and bruises. Steve winced, checking the lump on his head, then looked up. The portal they had all fallen through mid-battle had closed.

"Well, shit," Clint said.

"Language," Steve replied automatically. There was a teenager in the room.

"Dude, I heard you swear like a sailor when you stubbed your toe the other day. You don't get to judge."

Steve sighed. "Any injuries?"

"Other than my pride? I am unharmed," Thor announced. Everyone else was fine, too.

"Tony, any idea where we are?" Steve asked.

"Well, according to JARVIS, the exact same place we were before falling into the portal," Tony said.

Clint looked around the massive cave that had replaced the underground science facility they'd been fighting in. "Riiiight."

"Time travel?" Bruce guessed.

"Parallel universe?" Natasha suggested.

"Illusion spell?" Thor guessed.

"Bad JARVIS?" Steve asked.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, Cap," Tony said.

Steve couldn't stop the smirk. Tony bugged the hell out of everyone every minute of every day, so Steve made it his personal mission to return the favor at least once a week. In a startling irony to a few months ago, he strove to get Tony to call him "Cap" or "Rogers," because he only did that when he was annoyed with Steve.

The smirk slipped when Peter suddenly froze. "Shh, guys. Something's coming."

Steve strained his hearing, but couldn't pick anything up.

"Spidey, I've got nothing," Tony said.

"Something's coming," he insisted.

"Spider-sense?" Steve guessed.

"Spider-what?" Clint asked.

The ceiling cracked. They all looked up.

Steve didn't know if it was an earthquake or bomb or side effect of the portal, but rocks suddenly started falling from the ceiling.

Everyone scrambled for cover, pressing themselves against the wall. Steve saw Peter fling across the cavern with his webs, but then the rocks fell and dust clouded his vision.

When everything settled, Steve did a head count. Tony, Thor, Natasha, Clint, Bruce...

"Where's Spider-Man?" he demanded.

Everyone looked around. Clint's face drained of color. "I don't see him."

Steve turned to the center of the room, at the wall of rocks and rubble that had fallen. He cupped his mouth and shouted: "PETER!"

"I'm okay!" came the answering call.

The Avengers sagged in relief. Steve scrambled up the wall, careful of the rubble, and found an opening that let him see through. Peter was perched on the cavern wall, beneath a slab of stone that jutted out that had protected him from the falling rocks. "Are you injured?"

Peter dropped to the ground. "Nah, I'm good." He looked around. "Um...hmmm..."

"If we try digging, we could cause another collapse," Bruce warned. "That was an aftershock from the portal."

"Will there be others?" Steve demanded.

"Probably. We need to leave."

Steve turned back to Peter. "Do you see a way out?"

"I...yeah, actually I do," Peter said, looking to the side, where Steve couldn't see. "No idea where it leads to, though."

"This one leads out," Natasha called, her voice echoing down the edge of the tunnel where she stood. "I can see starlight."

"We can't just leave him here," Steve argued.

"Yeah, you can," Peter said. "You're no good to anyone squished. I'll start walking and hope it leads me out."

"We'll come back," Tony promised.

Steve didn't want to leave, but he could see Peter walking into the darkness and Tony was prying him away. "Come on, Steve. The kid's got it covered."

Steve gritted his teeth and forced his feet to move. He knew the Avengers cared about Spider-Man. How could they not? The vigilante had helped them on dozens of missions, to the point where the news outlets were speculating on whether or not he was actually an Avenger. Fury was giving it serious thought, and Tony already had a floor reserved for a certain wall-crawler. Thor loved it when the spider dropped in on his and Steve's walks through New York, Natasha had surprisingly detailed conversations with him about hair products, he and Bruce constantly talked science, and Clint made snarking with him a sport.

But Steve knew Spider-Man better than anyone. The boy had saved his life in more ways than one. He was just a kid, two months away from turning eighteen. He lived with his aunt and carried the guilt for the death of his uncle. He was...

"So, Peter, huh?" Clint said casually.

Steve stopped, then groaned. "That was unprofessional."

"It was a moment of deep concern between shieldbrothers," Thor said, patting his shoulder. "And as we are the only ones who heard it, there is no harm."

"Didn't realize you knew his identity," Tony said. "Anything we should be worried about?"

Steve shook his head, then paused to consider it. "If he starts a prank war with Clint, we're all doomed."

"Duly noted," Clint said with a smirk.

Natasha smacked Steve over the head. "Why'd you have to go and give him that idea?"

"Because it'd be hilarious for those out of the splash zone," Steve said.

"We're doomed," Bruce said.

"Aye," Thor agreed.

The tunnel split. Both had starry skies at the end of them.

Steve started going right, just because, when the cave rumbled again.

"Move!" he ordered.

They all dove for cover. Steve went further to the righthand tunnel, because he was already in there. When the dust settled again, he realized he was the only one who went right.

"Aw, come on!" Tony complained from the other side of a wall of rubble. His voice was muffled. "Not Cap, too."

"Steve?" Natasha called.

"Present," he coughed through the dust. "Start walking. Both tunnels lead outside, anyway."

He got to his feet, shield heavy on his arm, and followed his own orders. He prayed Peter had found shelter from the last quake.

Oh, wait a minute. He paused and pulled out his phone, grinning when he already saw a text from Peter. You still alive?

Steve resumed walking and typed back, Alive and kicking.

*Cool. Think I found an exit.

He heard the whine of repulsors as he reached the lip of the cave. He tucked the phone away. "Wow, Tony. That was fast."

"Holy shit!"

"Don't move!"

Steve froze, and found himself on the wrong end of Iron Man's repulsor and Black Widow's pistol. He slowly held up his hands, but didn't drop his shield. He might need that.

"Stark, do you know...?" Widow asked.

"JARVIS, scan," Iron Man ordered. With the faceplate down, Steve couldn't read his expression, didn't even know if it was Tony in there. Black Widow was completely unreadable. It unnerved Steve; she was never that blank outside of missions, not these days.

JARVIS's voice came over the speakers: "Scan shows that this is Captain Steve Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America."

"Tony, Nat, what's going on?" Steve asked. He started calculating the odds: clones, brainwashing, maybe an illusion spell...

Widow cocked her gun. "There's no way that's Rogers."

"Why not?"

"You never use our first names."

He frowned. "I used your first names less than an hour ago. It's not exactly professional while on missions, I admit, but none of us are that strict on regulations."

"Stop talking," Iron Man ordered. Maybe it was just the voice modulator playing tricks on Steve's ears, but he sounded desperate. "We wait for the others."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Since when do you wait for backup?"

"Since you--" He cut himself off as footsteps came in from all sides.

Behind Iron Man and Black Widow came the rest: Thor, Clint, and Bruce. No Peter. They all froze when they saw Steve. Bruce turned green, but it wasn't Hulk-green.

Next to Steve, coming around the corner, came...the Avengers.

Everyone froze. Two Tonies, two Clints, two Thors, Bruces, and Natashas stared at each other, with Steve caught in the middle.

"JARVIS," both Tonies ordered at the same time.

Clint--Steve's Clint--snickered. At everyone's look, he ducked his head. "Sorry. I don't know why I find this funny."

"Neither do I," the other Clint said without a trace of humor.

"I'm sure this whole thing will sound hilarious later," Steve said dryly.

Tony--the other Tony--finally lowered his gauntlet. "They're real."

Steve relaxed when their Black Widow lowered her gun, scanning each of them.

"Time travel or alternate universe?" Bruce--Steve's Bruce (oh, this was going to get confusing)--asked.

The other Bruce still hadn't recovered from his shock when he asked, "What's the date?"

"July 16th, 2014," Steve answered.

That was not the answer Bruce wanted to hear. He went from looking ill to devastated. The other Clint cursed. "Dammit! I was really hoping for time travel."

"Why? What happened?" he demanded.

The other Thor opened his mouth to answer, but the other Iron Man cut in, "No questions. Not until we're back at the Tower."

Steve's Tony frowned, giving his alternate self a WTF expression. Steve couldn't help but agree.

"We need rescue services here," Steve's Natasha said. "One of our own is trapped in the cave."

"Who?" her alternate self asked.

"Spider-Man."

The other Avengers glanced at each other in complete confusion. "Who's Spider-Man?"

--

The ride to the Tower was awkward. The quinjet was the same, at least, but the two sets of Avengers sat on opposite ends of it.

The alternate Bruce had offered to stay and help the rescue crew when they arrived. Clearly, just being around Steve made him want to vomit. Steve wanted to let someone else fill Bruce in on Spider-Man's description, but then someone pointed out that if he was badly hurt, they'd need his medical history, at which point all eyes turned to Steve.

He sighed. There was no Spider-Man here, so no alternate ego to protect. And who could he trust if not his fellow Avengers? "His name is Peter Benjamin Parker, age seventeen--"

"What?" his Tony demanded.

"What the hell Rogers?" other Tony agreed.

"I didn't find out until after he put on the suit," Steve defended. "Take your own advice and don't get your panties in a twist."

The Other Clint choked, and the rest of the Other Avengers looked equally bewildered. None of Steve's Avengers blinked.

Steve finished giving his description, including powers, before they were shepherded away to the quinjet.

"So they don't have a Spider-Man," Bruce said. "Is that a cause or an effect?"

"Probably an effect," Steve said, remembering what Peter had told him. After over a year of fighting together, both on the field and off, he and Peter had had several heart-to-hearts, and Steve knew the young man's backstory better than his own. "It took a very specific set of circumstances to give Peter his powers."

"Minor change, big impact?" Clint asked.

"The butterfly effect," Bruce agreed.

"Why are they so weird around Steve?"

Natasha glanced between the Other Avengers and Steve. "I don't think he's around in this universe."

Tony grimaced. "Spidey's saved Cap's hide plenty of times."

Steve winced slightly and it went unnoticed. Steve was getting a good idea of what had happened to his alternate self in this universe.

The jet landed on Avengers Tower. From up here, the city dazzling the eye with its lights as the eastern sky greyed, it looked like nothing had changed.

Inside was a different matter. When they all got out the common floor, Steve and his Avengers stopped and stared.

Four months ago, an enemy from Thor's world (not Loki, thank God) had managed to rip a hole in Avengers Tower, completely destroying the common floor. It looked like the same thing had happened here, too, considering the fact that it was completely redesigned and brand new, and there were neatly-covered bullet-holes in the ceiling from Widow's guns.

The difference was in the style. In Steve's universe, Tony had put him in charge of redesigning and decorating the common floor, because, after taking one look at Steve's floor, he was declared the "least tacky of the bunch."

Steve had given the place a warm, soft look, with deep brown furniture and a fireplace because hey, why not, Tony was paying the bill. He'd also taken some of the fan mail the Avengers had received over the years, specifically the drawings done by admiring kids and thankful talents, and had everyone's favorites framed and set on the mantelpiece. It had been for his own peace of mind more than anything else. One thing that was sure to get him out of a deep, dark mood was to come to the common floor, be used as a personal pillow/teddy bear by two or three of his friends, and glance over at the mantel to remind himself why he got out of bed in the morning. It worked every time, and he could tell it did the same for the other Avengers.

In this universe, the space was completely different. It was still nice. Bought by Tony Stark, of course it was nice. But it was so...cold. The walls were painted an industrial grey, the furniture was steel blue, and all the artwork was generic, something you'd find in a hotel.

"All right, that's it," Tony snarled, glaring at their alternate selves. "What the hell happened to Steve?"

The Other Tony crossed his arms and turned to Steve. "You wanna take that one, Rogers?"

Yup. That's what he thought.

Despite getting so much closer, he didn't want to reveal his, er, tendencies to them.

He returned Other Tony's glare with a look of disinterest. "You're going to have to narrow it down. There were several opportunities and I could've taken any one of them."

Bruce and Natasha understood first. She barely gave anything away, just a slight widening of her eyes. Bruce, like his alternate self, turned a little green.

"I don't understand," Steve's Thor said.

"You need it narrowed down?" Other Tony snarled. Still in the armor, helmet off, he was angry enough that Steve's Tony was twitching his hands, ready to raise his repulsors. "How about the time you went to an empty warehouse with a .44 magnum?"

That did the trick for the rest of Steve's Avengers.

"What?" his Clint squawked.

"Please tell me he's kidding," his Tony pleaded.

"Captain..." Thor sounded heartbroken.

Steve himself...oddly enough, he didn't feel embarrassed. More resigned, and oddly relieved, now that it was out in the open. And curious, because... "Huh. I would've thought the bridge."

"Not what we wanted to hear!" Other Clint shouted.

"When did this happen?" his Tony demanded.

Steve actually had to stop and think about it. "A couple years ago, after the Chitauri. September, I think?"

"September 23rd, 2012," Other Tony said. All the fight seemed to drain out of him, and he dropped to the couch. "At approximately six-thirty in the morning."

"You're serious," his Tony said flatly. He turned to Steve. "He's serious?"

Steve gave a tight smile. "You remember that morning in the kitchen when I was setting up a Facebook profile with Spider-Man sitting on the table? It was a few hours before that."

Tony went white.

"Wait a moment," his Thor said. "There is no Man of Spiders in this universe, correct?"

The other Thor shook his head. "I've never heard of this warrior."

Nat was the one who caught on. Everyone winced at her first words: "Steve's suicide isn't a cause, it's an effect of...You're saying that kid talked you out of it."

In the interest of full disclosure, Steve admitted. "A few times."

"A few?!" Clint shouted.

"When was the last time?" she demanded.

Steve tried to think, then he had to pull out his phone because he honestly didn't know.

"You actually know how to use that?" Other Clint asked, bewildered.

Steve gave a wry smile, not looking up from the text messages he was scrolling through. "The first and arguably best friend I've made in this century is a seventeen-year-old boy. Yes, I know how to use a cell phone. And social media. Except Snapchat. That one is beyond me." He looked up at Nat when he found the last "X." "Five months ago."

Tony rubbed his eyes. "Okay, we are going to have a nice long talk about therapy and anti-depressants when we're back home. But for now..."

"We need to get back home," Steve agreed. "And before that, we need to find Peter."

"We have three geniuses in the room, plus another in the field," his Clint said. "I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Five, actually," Steve said.

"Really? Spider-Twerp?"

"Steve, Tony's getting that look," Natasha warned.

He immediately pointed at Tony, who indeed had that little manic light in his eyes that spelled trouble. "No."

He pouted. "You don't even know what I was going to--"

"Don't care. I don't need you corrupting him."

His Clint snorted. "Dude, that kid is long gone."

"For your information, I wasn't thinking about Spider-Man," Tony said imperiously. "I was thinking about doing stuff with my other self."

"That's not better," Steve scolded.

"Says you," Other Tony defended. The teasing tone Steve had come to associate so much with his Tony was barely present, but it was there.

"Anyone else want to sleep at SHIELD barracks tonight?" one of the Clints asked. Everyone else raised their hand.

"Oh, don't be such babies," Other Tony said, getting to his feet. "There's plenty of room here. We'll work on cracking open that portal so you can get back to your own universe."

"Keep the explosions to a minimum," Steve's Natasha warned. And because they were smart, neither of the Tonies argued.

~~

The alternate Avengers offered their floors to Steve's Avengers, but also kept guest suites as an option. Having no choice, Steve went into a guest suite, where he showered and changed into sweats and a SHIELD-issue t-shirt. He checked his phone again and, finding no messages, opened a new one to Peter: This is an alternate universe. Alt-Bruce is out looking for you. After a brief hesitation, he added, There is no Spider-Man here.

The reply:

Huh. Must've missed the radioactive spider.

What about the alt-you? What's the Steve like in this universe?

Steve gave his phone a look. There is no alt-Steve.

What?!

Let me repeat: there is no Spider-Man here.

It was a full minute before Steve got a reply:

He snorted. Yes. "The thing."

How pissed are they?

Steve winced. Pissed.

Well, have fun with that :)

Steve glared. Bastard.

There was a knock on his door. Steve tucked the phone away, calling, "Come in!"

Thor came in, looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

"Are you mine, or our host?" Steve asked.

Yeah. So confusing.

Thor managed a brief smile. "I am one of yours, Captain."

"Ah. Beer?"

"Please."

The alcohol wouldn't affect either of them, but they both liked the taste. It was a bit of a tradition for them, when one of them was having a bad day. Steve opened the fridge and, sure enough, there was beer in there, along with a few other staple ingredients. Not their preferred brand, but it would do. It was nice to know that Tony keeping a well-stocked Tower was a constant in all universes.

He grabbed the entire six-pack and went into the living room. He and Thor sat on the couch and for a while and just drank.

"You are one of my closest friends," Thor said after a moment. "It grieves me to think that I came so close to not knowing you."

Steve winced. "Yeah...sorry about that."

"It's not your fault. I just wish the Steve Rogers of this world had had someone to confide in."

"Me, too. To be honest, I kind of want to punch him in the face."

"Really?" Thor asked.

Steve nodded, sipping his beer. Obviously the world hadn't ended with his death. The Avengers were still a well-functioning unit. The only greater difference Steve had been able to find was a distinct lack of art-inspired SI apps. In another few years he'd be little more than a bittersweet memory, a tragic story for the history books.

But while the Avengers in this world functioned, that's all they did. They still called each other by their last names. Clint and Natasha were still close (probably), but Steve wondered if the Other Thor had found a poor schmuck to explore New York with on little adventures. The Tony in this world had taken the mantle of leader, but was only a little happier with it than Steve had been. With him as leader, he probably didn't have as much time to muck around in a lab, so who was spending time with Bruce? Their Clint had either completely lost his sense of humor or wasn't comfortable enough using it with them, and Natasha never dropped her Black Widow face.

They were friendly with each other, but they weren't friends. They weren't the family that Steve had built.

Thor grabbed him in a crushing hug. Steve almost dropped his beer, but managed to set it on the table and return the hug. "I'm not going anywhere, big guy," he promised. He meant it.

~~

Peter arrived at the Tower with a bang.

He was supposed to be incognito. Other Bruce had apparently given him street clothes after finding him in the cave. But then there was a small situation with a couple of evil mutants, and rather than wait for police to endanger themselves or the Avengers to assemble, Spider-Man had come to save the day.

And he did. While getting stabbed in the process.

"It's just a pinprick," Peter insisted when Steve dragged him through the Tower, ignoring the wide-eyed Other Avengers. (Oh, right. His "mother hen mode," as Clint had dubbed it, hadn't become common knowledge until after the warehouse.)

Technically, Peter was right. The force-field dagger had gone clean through his shoulder, hitting no organs or veins. Steve could stitch it up himself, which is exactly what he was going to do. It was less because of SHIELD (there was no Spider-Man here, so what did they care about his identity?) and more tradition, and for Steve to assure himself that Peter was indeed alive and well.

"You need to work on your blocks," Steve said when they reached Avengers medical. Although there were on-call doctors, it was empty today. Steve plopped him on the edge of the bed and hunted for needle, thread, and antiseptic.

Peter had just pulled off his mask when Steve's Avengers burst in.

Steve braced himself for the anger. It was the first time he was seeing all of them since yesterday, when they'd found out about his attempt.

Instead, their anger was directed at Spider-Man. "Seventeen?!" Tony demanded.

Peter froze, then glared at Steve. "You told?"

He gave a helpless shrug. "I had to give your description to the Other Avengers, and if you were injured--which you are--they would've needed to pull up your medical history."

"Assuming it existed," Peter snapped. "We don't even know if I'm around in this universe."

"If you want me to apologize for looking out for you, you're going to be waiting a while," Steve said. Without warning, he pressed the rag of antiseptic to Peter's shoulder, making him hiss.

"We're not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about," Natasha said. "Not even SHIELD."

That made Peter pause. He narrowed his eyes. "Promise?"

"Well, you've kept the secret that I get my ass handed to me at Mario Kart, so we figure we owe you one," Clint said.

Tony crossed his arms, glaring at the shredded Spider-Man suit. "But you're getting a friggin' upgrade. Non-negotiable."

Peter brightened. "Cool."

"Hold still," Steve scolded.

"Do you want help?" Bruce asked wryly.

Between the two of them, they got Peter stitched up in record time while the boy snarked with Clint and talked science with Tony. Natasha leaned against the wall, a fond little smile on her face that she would deny having if Steve ever pointed it out.

"What I want to know," Natasha said, drawing everyone's attention, "is how Peter knew Steve needed help when the rest of us didn't."

All eyes turned to Peter.

Peter shifted in his seat. "Um, so you know about my spider-sense, right?"

"Nay," Thor said.

"It alerts me to danger. It's like a hum in the back of my mind, telling me to get out. Or, you know, if I'm looking for something dangerous, get closer."

"Sounds like the worst game of hot/cold ever," Clint said.

"It is," Peter admitted. "Anyway, one day I was on patrol and was just about to call it a night when I got this ping. I knew it was my spider-sense, but it wasn't a hum, like when I'm in danger. I hadn't felt anything like it before. So I followed it, and it led me to Steve. I didn't recognize him at the time, and he was just walking. And then he stopped and was looking out over the bridge, so I bought some popcorn and offered it to him, and we talked. Nothing really happened, so I thought it was just a fluke. EDIT: y'all need to calm down w him getting it wrong it was to show it was a long time ago fucken chill

"And then, a few days later, I got the same ping, and it led me to a woman in her apartment. She was swallowing a bottle of pills. I figured out that when my senses pinged, it doesn't mean that I'm in danger. It means that someone else is in danger of hurting themselves. And it was going crazy every time I got near Steve, which is why I never left him alone. So, yeah."

"So that's how you found me in the warehouse," Steve said. "Thought it was just chance."

"When was the last time it pinged for him?" Natasha asked.

Peter shrugged, then hissed when the movement tugged at his wound. "Ages ago."

"Stop moving your shoulder," Steve said, and resumed stitching.

By the time Peter was all set, complete with a change of clothes, the Other Avengers had arrived.

"Shit, he really is a teenager," Other Clint said.

"Whoa, that is freaky." Peter poked Other Tony's cheek, much to the man's annoyance.

"Peter, don't poke the Other Tony Stark," Steve scolded.

"Can I poke the Other Thor?"

"No."

"Can I poke the Other Natasha?"

"Do you want to lose your fingers?"

"Can I poke the--"

"No, Peter," Steve said.

"You say 'no' that a lot," Other Clint observed.

"You all act like idiots a lot," Steve countered.

Something gurgled. It took them all a minute to realize it was Peter's stomach.

He blushed. "Can I poke the other breakfast?"

"Yes," Steve said.

"Yay!" He started to leave, then came back and pulled Steve with him. "Pancakes!"

"You expect me to make you pancakes when you got stabbed?" Steve asked, although didn't stop Peter from dragging him.

Peter pouted. "You have to. I'm injured."

Steve groaned. "I don't know how I let any of you talk me into anything..."

If he hadn't had enhanced hearing, he would've missed Other Bruce saying, "I don't think I've ever seen him that happy."

~~

By the time Peter had a platter of pancakes before him, every news station was playing amateur footage of Spider-Man's fight against the mutants. Steve tsked at his form. "We need to work on that."

"Yeah, I know," Peter grumbled.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, ignoring the sudden butterflies in his stomach. "You're going to college this year, right?"

"Yeah-huh. Probably going to live on campus. Maybe. Commuting would be cheaper..."

"Commuting would be cheaper," Steve agreed. "Especially if you stayed at Avengers Tower."

Peter froze. He slowly returned the fork to his plate. "Steve, are you...are you asking me to join the Avengers?"

Steve shrugged. "We've been talking about it. You help us in so many fights you're practically already part of the team. Tony will have a fit if he can't give you tech. And I'd certainly sleep a lot easier knowing you had every available resource at your fingertips." He'd smirked. "I'd also get the pleasure of seeing Natasha kick your ass in the ring."

Peter hummed. He was smiling and blushing. "Well, everyone needs a decent source of entertainment..."

"I hate to interrupt," JARVIS said, making them both jump, "but there is a couple in the lobby asking after Mr. Parker by name."

Steve and Peter shared a look. "How? Spider-Man doesn't exist here," Peter said.

"Did they give their names?" Steve asked.

"Indeed," JARVIS said. "May and Benjamin Parker."

Let's just say that was not what Steve was expecting.

~~

Steve had JARVIS scan the elderly couple while he went into the interrogation room to meet them. He notified the Avengers--all of them--and had his Thor and Clint sit with Peter, who had turned an unhealthy shade of grey at JARVIS's announcement.

"Scans show that the individuals claiming to be May and Benjamin Parker are human," JARVIS said while Steve was in the elevator. "Facial recognition confirms the identities on their licenses. Brain scans do not indicate lying."

The Other Avengers were in the hall when Steve got out of the elevator, right next to the two-way mirror. Inside the white room sat an elderly couple, nervously holding hands.

"Who are these guys?" Other Tony asked.

"Peter's aunt and uncle," Steve answered.

"And why are we concerned?"

"Because A) they don't know he's Spider-Man, and B) Ben is dead."

Other Tony shrugged and stepped aside. "You know the most about them."

Steve nodded and entered the room.

Ben and May looked up when he came in. Ben's brow wrinkled. "I'm sure you get this a lot, but you look an awful lot like Captain America."

"That's because I am," he said, sitting across from him.

"But he's--"

"Dead. In this universe. I'm from an alternate universe. There are two sets of Avengers in this Tower right now."

May's shoulders slumped. "He's not ours," she whispered.

Steve looked between the two of them. "Mind telling me what you're doing here?"

"The news," Ben explained. "We saw the news, with that new superhero, Spider-Man. And we heard his voice...I know that voice. That's our nephew, Peter."

Steve's face didn't betray anything. "So why are you here? Shouldn't you be having a long conversation with him at your house--"

"He's dead," May spat.

And it clicked.

In his universe, it was Ben. In thiers, it was Peter.

Steve slumped back in his chair, feeling gutted. "Gas station. Mugger."

May blinked. "How did you...?"

"Because in my universe, Benjamin is the one who died."

Ben gave a humorless chuckle. "Oh. So the way it should've gone."

"So that is Peter," May demanded. "In the suit."

Steve sighed. "Yes. In my universe, right before Benjamin dies, Peter is bitten by a radioactive spider. It gives him superpowers: sticking to walls, proportional strength of a spider, enhanced healing. Ben's death inspired him to fight crime in New York."

"He's an Avenger?" she croaked.

"Not officially. Not yet. Normally he stays with small stuff, but every now and then he gets caught up in the bigger things. Case in point: portal to alternate universes."

Ben's face was pinched. "You're all going back, aren't you?"

"As soon as we get the portal open," Steve confirmed.

"Do I know?" May asked. "In your world. Since Ben's dead and Peter's...do I know?"

Steve shook his head.

"...I'm going to kill him."

"Your nephew has saved countless lives as Spider-Man," Steve said gently. "Mine included."

"I'm still going to kill him."

Ben looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He put an arm around May's shoulders and turned to Steve. "Can we see him? Before you leave."

Steve hesitated. "That's his decision. I'll ask--"

The door burst open, and Peter ran into the room so fast he almost hit the other wall. His face was wrecked, and there were tears in his eyes.

There was a second of suspension, where nobody moved. Then the chair shrieked as Ben stood, and Peter ran into him, sobbing. May's hands were shaking as he pulled her husband and nephew into her arms.

Steve soundlessly stood and walked out of the room.

~~

The Avengers didn't even try to pry Peter away from his aunt and uncle. Other Tony just told them they could all stay in a guest suite until he got the portal open.

"I'll make dinner," Steve's Clint offered, since it looked like they were going to stay another night while the geniuses worked.

"You will do no such thing," Natasha said. "I'm not having Cheetos and burned sandwiches."

"I would like to practice my spaghetti skills," Thor said.

"That's acceptable."

"Wait, what?" Other Clint asked.

Steve frowned at the Other Avengers' confused looks. "If we're all in the Tower together, usually one or two people cook a meal big enough for all of us."

"If it's Tony or Clint, we just order out," Natasha added.

"Seriously?" Other Clint asked. "What is this, Brady Bunch?"

Steve's Clint wrinkled his nose. "God, this place is weird."

"I don't think we're in a position to judge," Steve said, at the same time his Natasha said, "You're only just now figuring this out?"

Other Natasha frowned at her alternative self. "You've gotten attached," she accused. Like it was a bad thing.

Steve bristled. He was about to explain how him not being attached led to a bullet in his skull, when Natasha raised a cool eyebrow at her Other self and said, "Yes, I have. And it's made me a hell of a lot stronger."

"It's a weakness. You know that."

"I know that's a lie."

"Care to see?"

"Oh, ten bucks on our Natasha," Steve's Clint said.

Steve gave him a look. "Only ten?"

Thor clapped Steve on the shoulder before heading for the kitchen. "Please be sure everyone survives to see dinner. I shall require feedback!"

"You'll get it," Other Thor promised.

How was this Steve's life?

~~

Steve offered to bring four piling plates of spaghetti to the Bruces and Tonies. All of them were nose-deep in equations and mechanical parts.

"Dinner break," he called. "Thor cooked."

He quickly identified his Tony and Bruce by the way they perked up at the mention of Thor cooking, and then quickly went back to work. "Five more minutes," Tony said around a screwdriver.

"No. Now. Or you'll forget about it."

"I want that stricken from the record on account of how true it is."

When they all still refused to move, Steve set the plates on a table, took one of them, and shoved it into his Tony's hands. "Eat."

Tony spat out the screwdriver and scowled. "Fine."

Other Tony was staring at them with a dropped jaw. Steve tried to ignore it, and also tried to give him some pasta. Other Tony looked down at the plate, but didn't reach for it. "I don't like to be handed things," he mumbled.

Steve frowned, because that was new.

"Oh, yeah, it's a thing," his Tony said with his mouth full. "Just set it on the table. He'll be fine."

"O-kay." Steve did as he was told, watching as Other Tony picked up the fork and started eating.

After a minute, Other Tony sighed. "It's a trust thing," he muttered. "If I don't know a person well enough, if I don't trust them, I can't..."

"Ah," Steve said, and wasn't that a kick in the gut. His other self hadn't stuck around long enough for Tony to trust him.

At the same time, it warmed him to know that his Tony, even after all these revelations, still trusted him.

"Steve," Bruce called, motioning for a word in private.

Steve couldn't tell if this was his Bruce or the Other Bruce. Probably his, since everyone in this universe seemed to be using last names and formal titles, but he couldn't be sure.

"What is it?" Steve asked.

Bruce pulled off his glasses and started cleaning the lenses. "You don't have to answer if you don't want."

He frowned. "Okay."

"Before you...um, went to the warehouse. You knew that I'd tried the same thing, that I'd gotten to that point. I just want to know why you didn't come to me. Or any of us."

Steve grimaced. This was the conversation he'd been hoping to avoid. "There's no nice way to say this."

Bruce visibly braced himself.

"At the time, I didn't think any of you cared."

Bruce looked like he'd been slapped.

Steve plowed on. "The only time any of you spoke to me or interacted with me in any way was for Avengers or SHIELD business. I'm not putting any of this on you, but the fact is all any of you asked for was Captain America. I didn't think any of you cared about Steve Rogers."

"That's not...Jesus, Steve," Bruce groaned. Steve blinked, because he didn't think he'd ever see the day where Bruce swore. "It wasn't that we didn't care about you you. You had no experience in the Twenty-First Century. The only common ground that any of us could find with you at the time was combat and Avengers business."

Steve gave him a look. "Do you know how long it took you to start calling me by my given name?"

Bruce blinked. "What?"

"None of you called me Steve for months."

Bruce's jaw hardened. "You never called us by our given names, either. We figured you wanted to keep the relationship professional, that you needed time to adjust before reaching out. That's what we were waiting for."

Steve forced himself to take a deep breath. He didn't blame them. He really didn't. But Christ, they were all horrible with people. "Word of advice: next time someone wakes up after seventy years in the ice, don't wait for him to reach out. I was trapped in Captain America, and Peter was the only one who offered me a way out. Besides Plan A, obviously."

Bruce swallowed and nodded. "Right. Got it."

Steve smiled and squeezed Bruce's shoulder. "How's the portal coming along?"

"We should be going home tomorrow."

"Good. No offense Other Science Bros, this place is weird as hell."

He started to walk out as he heard Other Bruce say "Science Bros?"

~~

When the portal was ready the next day, it was extremely awkward for everyone. Especially the Natashas, who had spent all of last night pounding on each other in the ring. (Steve's Natasha had won, no questions asked. Other Natasha was obviously sour about it.)

But the one Steve was worried about the most was Peter, when he walked into the lab alone.

"Did you already say good-bye?" Steve asked.

Peter nodded. He looked sad, determined, and all cried out.

Steve hesitated. He didn't want to ask, but more than that he wanted Peter to be happy. "Do you want to stay?" he asked quietly.

Peter shook his head. "No. I mean, it came up. We talked about it. I could've stayed here and gotten a completely clean slate, or maybe pull Ben into my universe. But the thing is, this isn't my home, and our universe isn't Ben's home. And..." He took a shaky breath. "Our losses are what make us. Ben's words, not mine. I'm not that philosophical. But it's the truth."

Steve pulled him into a hug. Peter was trembling, but he allowed himself three deep breaths before pulling back. "Let's get out of here."

"All right, this should land you guys in your own Avengers Tower," Other Tony said as he flicked the last few switches. "Same date, same time, so I hope you had someone cover you for the last two days."

"Don't worry, we got Rhodey for that," Tony said.

"Who's Rhodey?"

Tony gaped at him, completely speechless.

Other Tony grinned. "I'm just yanking your chain."

"Not funny!"

"It's a little funny," Steve said.

The violet portal opened. The Avengers took two steps, and they were home.

~~

Longest one yet! Also hi. I'm your author Mackenzie but I prefer to be called The Friendly Neighborhood Stress Writer.

17094 Words