Hey everyone! I know it's been a long time since I updated, but the series is BACK for one final installment. I have a whole lot of fic planned with a ton of characters and twists, and I hope you enjoy it. Many thanks to my sister TK for always encouraging me, and Talavin for helping me brainstorm over the incoming medical science that'll appear in this fic.

Thank you all for patiently following me, for your feedback and support. It means a lot to me and I'm excited to finally share this fic with you.

There's No Curing Our Contamination
Chapter 1

The Playground had yet to live up to its name.

It certainly had everything a fractured spy agency on the run needed in order to rebuild. Expert technicians were already outfitting The Bus with a variety of long-overdue repairs and upgrades. They had rations and armaments to last a year, more if they were especially careful, and several long-held patents and wise investments promised to keep them funded for the foreseeable future. His agents had already settled in, making themselves at home in the armory, the science lab, and the training grounds.

And the holding cells. And the medical ward.

New agents were finding their way to the facility every day, having fought out from under HYDRA, dodging various military organizations on the way. Very few had any victories to speak of. It would be a long time before Coulson would be able to refer to their new home's moniker without wincing.

Early in the morning, Coulson made his way through the lab section of The Playground with a tablet tucked under his arm. He received a few nods from the agents already at their stations. One or two greeted him as "Director" and he had to remind himself that Fury wasn't a step ahead of him. That would take some getting used to, too. When he reached the furthest room of the medical ward, he knocked and then entered without waiting for a response.

As expected, he found Simmons there. She was sitting at Fitz's bedside, wearing the same clothes she had been during her evening shift. She stopped speaking as Coulson entered. "Agent Coulson," she said, but then she shook herself. "I'm sorry, sir. Director."

Coulson smiled thinly. "It's weird, isn't it?"

He was relieved to see her smile back. "For now, yes. I'll get the hang of it, though." She looked to the figure in the bed beside her. "So will he."

Coulson looked for himself, and for all his years of training it was hard. Leo Fitz was stretched out on the hospital bed, covered in a gown and sheets, breathing entirely with the help of the surrounding machines. Unconscious and unresponsive for four days. Coulson had certainly seen—and lived through—agents coming back from much worse. They all still had hope, but hope didn't always make it any easier.

"No change so far, huh," he said.

"Not yet," said Simmons. Her shoulders started to fall, but then she seemed to realize as much, because she gathered herself up with a visibly conscious effort. "Not yet. But I haven't exhausted all our options—and it hasn't even been that long. Relatively speaking, of course. I still have ideas…."

Her eyes went briefly out of focus, and Coulson gave her the moment she needed to collect herself. When she faced him, it was with determination. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to get him back," she said.

"I know." Coulson handed her the tablet he'd brought with him. "Which is why I think you should take a look at this."

Hulk took up most of the foreground. The broad span of his shoulders was smeared with sweat and ash, and atop that a shadow of the Times Tower partially obscured by smoke. The bus carriage was bent like tinfoil beneath his hands, pried open to reveal the tragic scene. The only red in the photo was the Spider-Man suit. An untrained eye wouldn't have noticed the dark stain on the boy's jeans was actually blood. The boy's face was likewise obscured, his arm outstretched, guiding the audience's attention straight to the costume's white eyes.

"Eddie Brock took this," said Peter as he scrolled through the thousands of comments beneath its posting. "I wonder what they paid him for it."

Bruce and Tony stopped their conversation to look his way. "You're not looking at that photo again, are you?" asked Bruce.

"They say he's going to get a Pulitzer for it."

Tony heaved a sigh. "Come on, Parker. Get something to eat."

"I'm coming," said Peter, but then he scrolled back to the top of the post. Ten more comments had been added since he'd last refreshed. This is what a REAL hero looks like, said one. He was halfway through the rest when Bruce reached over the back of the sofa and took the phone out of his hand. "Hey—"

"Peter," Bruce said seriously, and he couldn't help but flinch a little. "Come get some food."

Peter shrugged and started to say he wasn't hungry, but judging by the face Bruce was making, he wasn't about to be let off the hook that easily. "Yeah, okay," he said, and he let Bruce tug him to his feet.

"You do realize you're required to eat at least one tenth of all the food that's here, yes?" said Tony as they approached. He gestured to the spread his staff had laid out for them, as impressive a display as Peter had ever seen, crammed with enough fruit, salads, sandwiches, and snacks to feed three dozen. "Shouldn't be hard given your super metabolism, but still, better to get started early."

"There's no way," said Peter, though he helped himself to half of a turkey sub. "Not unless Hulk gives us a hand."

"Easily arranged." Tony flicked an olive at Bruce, who in turn shot him a look.

"It's going to take a little more than that," said Bruce. He ripped into a bag of potato chips. "Is all this food even necessary?"

"Sure—why not?" Tony plucked a few grapes off their stems. "It's the first time we're getting everyone back together in, what, years? Might as well make it worth their while."

"As if Steve wouldn't show up unless you promised him ham and Swiss?"

"American," Peter corrected, mostly on autopilot. It earned him a smirk, but as Bruce and Tony continued to tease each other, he was already looking away.

Pepper was at the other end of the table, pouring herself a lemonade. She was chatting with Maria Hill, a SHIELD agent Peter had crossed paths with a handful of times. Well, a former agent, anyway. He had watched her testimony to congress only a few days before concerning the agency's collapse; some of her quotes still rung in his ears. It was hard to imagine that anything slipped past her, let alone an entire secret organization of former Nazis.

Peter leaned back against the table as he munched distractedly on his sandwich. His eyes kept drifting to and from the door. Any minute, and the rest of the Avengers would begin to arrive. It had been two weeks since HYDRA's attempted takeover set the reunion into motion, and Peter still had no idea how he ought to confront it. As eager as he was for the familiar faces and the support they represented—particularly Steve's—a small part of him was already arguing in favor of a full retreat. He wasn't like the rest of them, wasn't even technically an Avenger. They hadn't even started and already he felt out of place.

Peter was readying to ask Bruce for his phone back when JARVIS said, "Mr. Stark, two of your guests have arrived."

Peter lost his appetite. He gulped down what he could of the sandwich as he counted down; he'd ridden the tower elevator enough times he knew just how long it took to reach the penthouse. By the time the elevator opened he was almost light-headed. But it wasn't Steve inside after all: Natasha and Clint stepped out, both wearing civilian clothes, the latter carrying a heavy duffel bag over his shoulder.

Tony moved with Maria and Pepper to greet them. Peter watched them a moment, using the excuse of wiping his hands on a napkin to appear occupied. He wasn't really fooling anyway; already Bruce was at his side.

"It's okay to be nervous," said Bruce. He was trying so hard to sound reassuring that it only made Peter feel worse. "But everything's going to be fine, Peter. You have every right to be here."

"I know." Peter smiled, but he was sure it wasn't very convincing. "It's just kind of weird, you know? Having so many 'heroes' in one place."

But Bruce knew him well enough by then to cut to real issue. "Steve will be glad to see you," he said.

Peter managed not to wince, but only just. "Yeah. Me, too." He squirmed in his skin; he couldn't stop wondering if Steve had seen that photo. "He must have gone through a lot out there. I know he's okay, but still…" He could see Bruce working up to say more, but was thankfully saved by their first guests approaching.

"Parker," Natasha greeted, and they shook hands while Clint shoved his bag under the buffet table. "It's been a while."

As usual, she was a hard read for Peter. "I'm glad to see you're okay, Agent Romanoff," he said. "I saw some of that footage from DC."

Natasha's lip curled in a half smirk. "A spy hates being caught on camera," she said. "If you saved that file, do me a favor and delete it."

"Like that matters now," taunted Clint, straightening up. "Your entire body of work is on the internet."

"You can't fault a woman her modesty."

"Is that what you call it?" Clint turned to Peter and offered his hand. "Parker."

"Sir," Peter greeted crisply as he shook it, and Clint nodded, pleased and amused. "Good to see you again, too."

He half expected some kind of jab about finally being let around the adult table, but Clint only replied, "Same," before shifting attention to the brunch spread. "So, what's any good here?"

Sympathy, Peter thought, conflicted, as Clint and Natasha endured Tony's sales pitch over the meal. They must have seen it.

The next to arrive was Col. Rhodes, landing on the helipad in his full War Machine armor. He greeted Peter with that same restrained sympathy that everyone had aimed his way at some point. There was no getting used to it. Then JARVIS announced another arrival, and Peter abandoned all other concerns as Steve finally emerged from the elevator.

He looked perfectly fine. His hair was shorter than the last time Peter had seen him in person, but he bore no trace of bruise or limp, and he was wearing a familiar leather jacket as if nothing had even happened. And when he looked at Peter, there it was: the look that said he'd seen that photo, too.

Bruce set his hand on Peter's shoulder, which offered him much needed grounding. Feeling more stable, Peter flashed him a smile and then hurried to meet Steve.

"Cap!" Peter met him with hand outstretched; Steve's handshake was as strong as ever. "It's really good to see you."

"You, too," said Steve. He looked hesitant for a moment, and then he tugged Peter closer, giving him a brief but firm hug around the shoulders and a pat on the back. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Peter replied automatically. He felt a little better as he leaned back. "It's you we were worried about. Mr. Stark said you were shot a few times."

Steve shrugged. "He exaggerates."

"No no," said the man next to him, who Peter had barely taken notice of. "You were shot. At least twice. That's not an exaggeration."

Steve conceded with an embarrassed nod. "Peter, this is Sam Wilson," he introduced, and the two of them shook hands. "A friend."

"I never thought I'd get the chance to meet you," said Sam, his grin charming. "I've been a fan of yours for a while."

Peter was taken aback. "Really?"

"Heck yeah. My nephews, too. I'm looking forward to seeing some of your moves in person." He looked to Steve and must have sensed something, because started to move on. "I think I'm going to go say hi to Agent Romanoff."

"Good luck," said Steve, amused.

Sam headed off, and the mood changed. Peter thought he knew what was coming, but then Steve looked at him soberly and said, "I wanted to say, I'm sorry."

Peter's heart gave a heavy thud. "Huh?" He shook his head. "What for?"

"For HYDRA," Steve explained, and Peter gulped. "I heard what went down here. HYDRA never should have gotten this far and I'm sorry we put you in that position."

"No, that's…." Peter fidgeted helplessly. He'd endured all kinds of nervous speculation when it came to how Steve would view his involvement in the incident, but an apology was nowhere near any of it. "You don't have to apologize," he said. "I'm the one who—"

Steve took his shoulder, squeezing just as Bruce had. "What happened wasn't your fault," he said, with familial authority. "You know that, right, Peter?"

"I know," said Peter. He could see that Steve didn't believe him any more than he meant it, but by then their peers were crowding closer, and they both let it go.

Once all the necessary introductions were done, Clint looked around the room and asked, "Is that everyone?"

"Almost," said Maria.

The windows went dark. Everyone looked, and the hairs on the back of Peter's neck tingled with warning. Before he could even tense, Bruce was beside him, and seeing him so relaxed reminded Peter what was really going on.

A beam of brilliant light hit the tower helipad from above, glittering in rainbow hues. It only lasted a few moments, though long enough for something to streak down through the center and land with a shuddering impact. Peter held his breath. When the light dissipated, it left only the figure of a man, tall and well-muscled, with blond hair and a long, red cape. Peter knew immediately who it was but he gaped openly anyway as a god of Asgard joined them in the penthouse.

"My friends," Thor greeted happily, and the Avengers met him in kind, sharing laughs and handshakes all around. Peter was relieved to see he wasn't the only one awed by the arrival; Rhodes and Sam were sharing raised eyebrows and even Pepper looked a little star-struck.

"That's…." Peter glanced to Bruce and then back again. "He really is an alien, right? I've seen pictures, but I didn't expect him to be so…."

"Handsome?" Bruce teased.

Peter blushed and forced himself to stop staring. "No! I mean…sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Let's go say hi," said Bruce, and he urged Peter forward into Thor's path.

Thor noticed right away, and though he was already grinning, he seemed to light up more. "Ah, you must be the young spider!" he said, and when they shook hands, Peter was both surprised and not surprised to feel just how much strength lay beneath the grip. "Heimdall's told me about you. He says you have the strength of twenty mortals or more. Even Captain Rogers may not be a match for you."

Peter laughed at the thought. "No, no way." He only had an inkling of who Heimdall was, let alone what he would have told Thor, but he was relieved to see only friendliness in Thor's expression. "I'm strong but I'm not that strong."

"Smells like an arm wrestling contest in the making," said Clint, which turned Thor's smile downright mischievous. Peter found himself intrigued by the prospect of challenging himself against an alien, but Maria interrupted before they could get up to anything.

"That's everyone," she said, drawing their attention. "Feel free to help yourself to some food. When you're ready, we'll gather up around the sofas over there." She gestured toward the room's central setup, where a few tablets had been left on the low table and projected screens awaited input. Everyone grew a bit more serious.

"I thought we were meeting up to discuss a general game plan for moving forward," said Rhodes, directed mostly at Tony. "You didn't say this was a mission briefing."

"It's not," said Tony, but with all eyes suddenly on him, he quickly surrendered. "It kind of is. Have a sandwich, will you? All of you? Can't fight HYDRA on an empty stomach."

He took one for himself—along with the rest of the grapes—and headed for the meeting area. The rest followed suit. Peter still wasn't in much of a mood for food, but he grabbed a can of soda. After being distracted by Thor's armor magically reducing to a more casual state, he settled in the corner of a sofa next to Bruce. Soon everyone was impatient for Maria to start.

"I don't mean to spring this on you," she began as she stood before them, somehow managing to look stern and apologetic at the same time. "I don't have any authority to be giving you orders or missions. There is no SHIELD anymore, no Avengers. What I should be giving you is answers, not our mess to clean up."

"With all due respect, Agent Hill," said Steve, "the Avengers are still here."

"Even more than we started with," added Bruce, and Peter was relieved to see the others nodding along. "And we're not going anywhere."

Natasha took a seat on the armrest next to Clint. "If you have information on where HYDRA's scattered to, we want to hear it," said Clint. "Then we can decide what to do with it."

Maria nodded, and she straightened up, one hundred percent business. "Then I'll start with what we know for certain."

She picked up one of the tablets, and with a few taps the screens behind her flashed to life with images of different SHIELD facilities around the world. Peter had to consciously force himself to look away from The Cube to take note of the rest. "At approximately 11:00 hours on April the 4th, our SHIELD bases all over the world came under attack from covert, rogue agents that had been conspiring in secret for decades. We now know this breach of security dates back to when Dr. Zola of HYDRA was recruited into the Strategic Science Reserve in 1945. Through careful planning and secrecy, he quietly converted agents within his influence to HYDRA's ideals, until they equaled roughly thirty-eight percent of our total manpower." Despite her obvious efforts, the bitterness came through her voice clearly. "SHIELD was compromised before it was even fully formed."

Peter glanced around at their grim faces, hesitated, and finally asked, "How is it possible that they went undetected for so long? Was there really no warning?"

"They were patient," said Maria. "They had a strategy, and they stuck to it." She sighed. "And we fell right into it."

"You should not blame yourself," said Thor, surprising her. "Deception is always harder to uncover than it seems in hindsight."

A respectful moment passed, and then Steve took a breath, drawing everyone's attention back in. "It's not as if we didn't know what SHIELD was capable of. Manufacturing weapons, creating systems of deterrents. Those Helicarriers were only Phase 3 after Phase 2 fell through. Look at the raw facts and the only difference between how Fury or Pierce would have used them is a matter of scale. Whatever their intentions."

"That 'difference of scale' was two million innocent people," Natasha reminded him. "That means something."

Maria shook her head. "No, Captain Rogers does have a point. HYDRA would have never been able to gain the strength it did if SHIELD hadn't opened the way for them. But that's not what matters now."

A few taps of her tablet and the main screen changed to a map, different areas lighting up connecting to the different images of SHIELD bases. "We lost control of nearly seventy percent of all SHIELD's active facilities during the uprising," she continued. "Many of them have been retaken or destroyed. Those, along with most of the ones we were able to retain control of, have been turned over the United States military and other agencies. We have done everything in our power to aid the US government as they track down HYDRA's remaining forces. Isn't that right, Col. Rhodes?"

Rhodes nodded cautiously. "Yes, you've been very cooperative." He pointed toward the map. "Which is why I'm curious about a few dots you've got up there I haven't seen before."

Tony vaulted to his feet. All things considered Peter was surprised he hadn't found a way to insert himself until then. "All right, let's cut to the chase," he declared. "There are bad guys still out there and we're going to find them. And not just your run-of-the-mill Nazi lunatics determined to destroy the free world."

He tapped on the screen behind him, enlarging a satellite photo of one of the bases on a small island off the coast of Washington. "The Fridge," Maria introduced. "One of SHIELD's maximum security detention facilities."

"One of?" echoed Sam with a raised eyebrow.

"It's the 'maximum security' part you should be taking issue with," replied Tony.

Maria shot him a look and then continued. "After we regained control of The Hub from HYDRA, several high priority prisoners were sent to the The Fridge for containment. Little did we know, the Level Seven sent with them as escort was yet another HYDRA agent who hadn't yet broken his cover. He infiltrated The Fridge, released all the prisoners, and stole a great number of confiscated artifacts and devices." Seeing that Clint and Natasha were watching her with particular interest, she elaborated. "It was Agent Ward, acting under orders from John Garret."

Clint harrumphed. "Garret. How did we not see that coming?"

"Are they the ones we're after?" asked Natasha, looking downright predatory.

"No—Garret and his offshoot have been handled." Maria frowned slightly, and Peter was surprised to see her focusing on him. "Along with Agent Kaminsky."

Peter swallowed, and he was relieved when he felt Bruce's hand circle his. He didn't know what to say, but he nodded, grateful.

Maria turned back to the screens as Tony called up a layout of the building, profiles from various inmates flicking to the surrounding displays. "I'm afraid we're after bigger fish than that. The CIA and FBI will be able to handle most of the small fry that escaped, but there were a few inmates of particular note that have gone missing, ones I wouldn't trust to an enforcement team that isn't this one."

Bruce went tight, and so did Peter, realizing what Bruce was thinking only a beat before he said it. "Blonsky. Captain Blonsky is loose?"

Tony enlarged the captain's profile on the screen as Maria explained for the rest of them. "Former Captain Emil Blonsky of the British Royal Marines, otherwise known as the Abomination." Security footage from the attack on Harlem played, and when Abomination roared toward the camera, Peter shivered. Even when muted he knew exactly what he must have sounded like. "Underwent a similar procedure to our own Dr. Banner. Since Garret raided The Fridge, there's been no sign of him."

"What about Hammer?" Peter asked immediately.

Maria shook her head. "We've only just learned that he never arrived at the facility he was destined for. He's also missing." Peter looked to Tony, but if he was especially disturbed by the news, he didn't show it. "More importantly," she continued, "we've also learned that Loki's scepter used in the battle of New York has—"

"You've lost the scepter?" Thor interrupted, rocking to the edge of his seat.

Clint, meanwhile, looked like he might have taken to his feet if not for Natasha's hand on his shoulder. "Don't you think you should have started with that? Last I heard we didn't even know what the damn thing was, and now HYDRA has it?"

Maria motioned for quiet. "We're going to get it back. We have a lead."

"JARVIS has been over every line of code dumped by SHIELD," Tony took over, changing the views on the screen again. "Now that we know some of the agents that were definitely HYDRA, we're retracing their footsteps, comparing it to various intelligence sources, current satellite images, etc and so forth. So far we have one primo candidate."

Each of the screens was taken up by images of the base: a squat, round compound nestled in a field of tall grass, with a central building and several outlying huts, not unlike an atom to Peter's eye. "The Vault," Maria introduced. "The largest of SHIELD's research installations during the 1950s, which was decommissioned in 1983. Or at least, it was supposed to have been." She indicated several satellite photos showing heat signatures and electrical activity. "I don't know how they kept it a secret from Fury, but someone has been using this base. While investigating transmission logs from The Cube, we even discovered that they were sending regular updates to Agent Righetti, a security officer there. Everything has been encrypted beyond what we've been able to piece together so far, but we're working on it."

"Is there any particular reason why you think Blonsky might be there?" asked Steve. "It says up there that this place is in Kentucky. There are plenty of places between The Fridge and there he could be hiding."

"Not if he's green," said Tony. "He's twelve feet tall and weighs literally a ton. 'Hiding' is not his specialty."

"Blonksy had to be kept sedated in order to keep him from transforming," added Bruce. "If he hasn't been spotted yet, that must mean he still is. Someone has him. We have to assume it's HYDRA."

Sam set the remains of his lunch down. "So shouldn't we be out there?" he said, and Peter tensed in anticipation. "Instead of, you know, brunching?"

Tony cast a smirk in Steve's direction. "I like this new friend of yours, Rogers. Look how gung-ho is is."

Steve stared back and didn't reply, so Maria cleared her throat and carried on. "Roughly six hours from now, General Talbot is heading a military operation against former SHIELD base The Treehouse. It's a few hundred miles away from The Vault, but we are concerned that a move on one is going to alert the other. If we can hit them at once, that should preserve the surprise for both strikes and make it harder for them to draw reinforcements from each other. Or worse, to go deeper underground."

Once again, Rhodes regarded her with a critical eye. "Since this is the first I'm hearing of this, I assume you haven't told the general he's participating in a joint effort?"

"I have not," Maria confessed. "But I'd like you to."

"Oh?"

"Like I said, there's no SHIELD anymore. I don't have any authority." She looked meaningfully at Steve. "It was keeping too many secrets that got us into this mess. It's time for us to try something new." Her focus shifted back to Rhodes. "I've prepared a dossier I'd like you to deliver to General Talbot. He can send someone to observe our operation if he wants, and once the site is secure, we will turn everything over to the United States military for processing, just like every other site."

"Except for the scepter," Thor said immediately. "It belongs in the vaults of Asgard."

Maria winced, but before she could reply, Bruce spoke up as well. "Or Blonsky. He wouldn't be any safer with Talbot than he was with Ross."

"Look, we can call dibs when we get there," said Tony. "We don't even know yet what we're going to find. What really matters is that we're doing this. Right?"

Only a beat passed as all eyes drifted again to Steve. "Yeah," he said. "We are." He took a deep breath. "But we have some time, still. We'll review whatever information we have on The Vault and come up with a plan of attack. We're not underestimating HYDRA again, ever."

Everyone agreed.

Peter stayed mostly quiet as Maria led them in a discussion of the base's known layout. He paid strict attention, memorizing as much as possible, even knowing that most of it would have been altered by HYDRA in the several decades since it had gone off grid. The others asked questions about modes of entry, possible defenses and capacities. Peter couldn't stop wondering about a green beast that could tower over Hulk and a vengeful mutant encased in bone. But we'll all be there this time, he told himself, glancing around the room at the determined but still calm faces. Clint was twirling a plastic fork between his fingers while pointing out optimal vantage points. And it'll just be us, and HYDRA. No one to get hurt.

Once Maria had laid out all the information she had and they had formed a plan, the group dispersed to prepare. Thor was eager to return to the buffet, and Bruce was relieved when he convinced Peter to do the same. If there was anything that could positively distract Peter, it was a prince from another word promising him secrets of the universe and BBQ chips. Bruce himself stood back, and as he'd expected, Steve joined him a minute later.

"Bruce," he said. "You're the only one with experience against this Blonsky character. How do you think we'll do?"

"If it's just Blonsky, we'll be fine," Bruce replied confidently. "The Hulk was able to best him before, and we're much stronger now than than we were then. And that's not even considering Thor." He frowned. "The only real problem would be if HYDRA has been analyzing his blood all this time and has found a way to replicate it. But I'm not sure even they would have been able to keep it a secret, had they succeeded."

Steve nodded along, though it was clear he had more than a wayward Englishman on his mind. He nodded toward the food spread. "So how is he, really?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Bruce confessed. He looked for himself, and though it warmed his heart to see Peter chatting excitedly with Thor about the metaphysics behind rainbow travel, he couldn't help but wince. "He says he's okay, but he won't talk about what happened at The Cube—not with me or May. Even Tony gave it a shot. He's become fixated on that photo. I assume you've…?"

"Yes, I've seen it. It's been hard to avoid." Steve was watching Peter with that same face of concerned sympathy. "He hasn't been out as Spider-Man since then, either, has he."

"No. I've tried to be as encouraging as I can. I think…." Bruce hemmed, trying not to let his full frustration show through. "Maybe he just needs more time."

Steve nodded. "I'll try to grab him before all this is done," he offered. "See what I can get out of him."

Bruce sighed quietly with relief; he had hoped he wouldn't have to come out and ask. "Thank you."

Soon after, Col Rhodes left to deliver the information to General Talbot. Bruce didn't like the idea of them working together even several hundred miles apart, but there were much more important concerns. Once he was able to pry Peter away from Thor, the two of them headed down to Bruce's floor to suit up.

"He said that most of the buildings in Asgard are taller than Manhattan skyscrapers," said Peter excitedly as he finished stripping. "And pretty much everything is shiny and gold. Can you imagine swinging through a city like that? I mean, he said I can't go, but can you imagine?"

"There are a lot of things I would want to see and do if Thor could allow us into Asgard," said Bruce, pulling his trousers on over his uniform. Among friends or not, he was still not as comfortable as some when it came to the form fitting material. "And who knows? Maybe Asgard will need our help someday and we'll get to see it ourselves."

Peter laughed. "It'd have to be some pretty big trouble if the alien gods needed our help."

Bruce finished and looked to Peter. He had most of his costume on and had just finished smoothing down the chest when he stopped, looking to the mask he'd draped over the sofa back. He was hesitant in picking it up. It might have been the perfect time to give him some space, a moment to reflect, but it didn't feel right. Bruce hated seeing Peter unsure in himself, and hated more that even after so much time together, he didn't quite know what his lover needed from him in moments like it.

"Peter." Bruce stepped closer and gently snagged Peter's elbow, turning him so they could meet face to face. "Alien gods have off days, too, you know. Our team may be made up of some of the most extraordinary people in the world, and you're part of it because you belong here. But that doesn't mean—"

"I know," Peter interrupted him, just as Bruce figured he would. "Really, I do get it. You don't have to worry, Bruce; I'm okay." He darted in, pressing a quick but firm kiss to Bruce's mouth before tugging his mask on. "Let's go kick some Nazi ass."

He took Bruce's hand to lead him back upstairs. Bruce allowed it. He just hoped that Steve would have better luck than him.