The New York City skyline really was a beautiful thing. The way it sprawled on seemingly endless, glittering and shining like the stars on the night of a New Moon could capture any heart that looked upon it.
Steve Rodgers, codename Captain America, sat on his balcony, a bottle of sarsaparilla beside him, simply looking out over his city. I Hisi/ city. The city he had been raised in, the city he had saved less than a month ago from whatever terrible fate that Loki had planned to bestow upon it.
He felt an attachment to this city, which was understandable, considering all he had seen and done in it. Here was where he had made his first friends, like Bucky. And here was also where he had made new friends, and forged a strange, slightly dysfunctional (who was he kidding, they were all as messed up as a clown on Prozac) family.
Ah, his team. The family of his heart. There were many different ways that people would describe each of them individually, but over the short time period he had spent getting to know them, he would like to think that he could describe them fairly accurately at this point.
Firstly, there was Thor. The Asgardian of old legend, the one that many thought of as a god. The strength of his physical body was a big part of who he was, but it did not define him. No, what defined him was the somehow innocent spirit that he had locked away inside of him. It could be seen in the simple shine in his eyes whenever he spoke of Jane or Loki, and the way every day was a new adventure to him. He was a child-like soul, but at the same time his eyes spoke of experiences beyond human comprehension.
Then there was Bruce Banner, codename, The Hulk. The man was brilliant, but he harbored a deep fear that threatened to consume the very essence of who he was. He feared becoming a monster. It was a legitimate fear, especially for the doctor. But at the same time, he was a kind, generous soul, who stood by those that he loved faithfully. Even the Other Guy (as he had been dubbed), was faithful to a tee, once you had earned his respect.
Next came Clint Barton, codename, Hawkeye. He was an archer of unparalleled renown, but there was also a certain paranoia that seemed to hang about him. He liked being where he could see everything, and couldn't stand having his back to a wall, figuratively or literally. Perhaps it was born of years being an agent, or maybe it went deeper than that. Steve truly doubted that anyone but Natasha would really know the answer to that question.
And then there was Natasha Romanoff, codename, The Black Widow. She was an assassin, bred from a very young age. But while she could kill a man one hundred and seven different ways with a ballpoint pen, she was also very maternal by nature. If one of the team was sick or seriously injured, she was always the one that would come in with a bowl of soup and a hug, and then a denial of the incident ever happening afterwards. It was something that she had confessed to Steve on night after one too many chick flicks that she had always longed for a family of her own, but that she didn't dare attempt to form one with all of the enemies she had cultivated over the years.
And last, but never least, there was Tony Stark, codename, Ironman. He was the kind of person that at first glance you would write off as a very happy go lucky kind of guy, the one that was great for a party but that you couldn't really do anything else with. Not many people could see that there were many, many layers to the billionaire, playboy, genius, philanthropist. ….
His outermost layer was obviously the Ironman suit. The Hero, the jump-in-and-save-everyone-even-at-ones-own-peril superman. This was the layer that the public saw the most of, even if the suit wasn't always the physical representation of it. Sometimes he would put up the Ironman front even when the suit was safely stored not too far away.
And then there was his care-free layer. The one that infuriated Nick Fury, the one that insisted everyone call him The god of Awesome, and the one that distracted most people from seeing whatever emotional pain was bothering him. This was the mask that had been in place so long that it had melded to his real personality, making them very similar.
But underneath all of those layers there was a very hurt, emotionally confused man. Maybe it had all started with his early issues with his father, or the later kidnapping that resulted in the need for the super magnet in his chest. Whatever the cause, the emotional turmoil was something that Steve knew the man would have to get off of his chest eventually.
And that was okay, because when the time did come for Tony to be angry but sad, lonely, but crowded, conflicted but set in his ways, Steve would listen like the good friend that he was. And he knew that however dysfunctional their little family was, all of the other Avengers would do the same, for any of the others. Because that was what family's did.
Steve drained the last of his sarsaparilla out of the bottle, and stood from his seat on the balcony. He took one last look at his city, and then turned and walked inside, waiting for tomorrow to bring a new day, and a new adventure to all of them.