Chapter One

"DAD!" Steve bellowed. "Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad!"

"What is it, Steve?" Phil Coulson replied, looking down at the boy. He was trying to finish sewing his newest set of Captain American themed pajamas.

"Why aren't they here yet?" Steve whined, pulling on his father's arm. "You promised Tony and Mr. Fury would be here early!"

"Well, Steve, I can't control their arrivals," said Phil. "Why don't you go play outside while you wait for them, okay?"

"Can I get the new baseball out?" his son asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

"Yes, you may, now let me finish," said Phil, laughing as his son let go and ran off to the garage, shouting for joy.

Once in the garage, Steve pushed aside his bike, his scooter, and reached into the chest that kept all the sports equipment. On the top, there was a plastic bag from the store where they got the baseball from. He pulled it out and plopped down on the ground to wrestle the plastic wrapping of the box off.

He stayed there, yanking off bits of plastic, bending his nail backwards and ripping it off, until there was a knock on the door.

"I got out it!" Steve shouted, rushing from the garage. He dashed past the little room his father was sewing him, knocking him aside and raced to the front door, sliding to a halt.

"Hi, Tony! Oh. It's . . . oh," he grumbled, looking at his non-best friend. "Hi, Bruce. You can come in, but only if you can get this stupid ball out of the package!"

He tossed the box to the tanned kid with dark hair and glass. Bruce caught it, stumbling backwards. He had never been very athletic.

"S-sure thing, Steve," he said and followed Steve into the kitchen.

As Steve sat down on the counter, Bruce began looking through the drawers after dropping his bag on the island counters. Phil walked in as Bruce pulled out a pair of scissors.

"Hi, Mr. Coulson," said Bruce, snipping away some of the plastic. It wasn't long before he got the baseball out and handed it to Steve.

"Sweet!" Steve cried. "C'mon, let's go play!"

"Don't break anything!" Phil called to the boys as they ran out of the house. Steve had shot ahead while Bruce trailed just slightly behind. He sighed, leaning against the doorframe. Steve and Bruce weren't' the best of friends like Steve and Tony were or Clint and Natasha were, but they got along fairly well. Phil was rather certain that Steve was jealous of Bruce and Tony getting along so well, and he probably figured that Bruce was trying to steal his best friend.

Out in the yard, Steve had the ball in his hands and was getting ready to toss the ball over to his friend. He pulled his arm back and tossed it, letting the ball fly from his hand. Bruce leaned forward, trying to catch, took a step –

And fell to the ground.

"Oomph!" he cried, his glasses falling to the ground.

Steve sighed as Bruce picked himself up and pulled his glasses back on.

"I'm sorry," he said, crawling to the ball.

"It's fine," Steve grumbled. When was Tony ever going to get here?

"Hey! Where's my red carpet, and the cheerleaders?"

"Tony!" Steve cried, running past Bruce and tackling his best friend as he was stepping out of the back of Nick Fury's car.

"Steve!" Tony shouted back as he picked himself up. He caught sight of Bruce, standing under a tree, ball in hands. He would glance at the two and then away before glancing back again. "Hey, Bruce!"

"Hi!" Bruce called back, shifting is weight to his right side.

Nick Fury got out of the driver's seat, pulling Tony's bag with him.

"Take your bag, kid," he said. "And remember, I'm only here because your dad is working."

"Fury, I really don't care," said Tony. "Also, I believe we're all staying in Steve's room. It's right inside, up the stairs, last door on the right. It's right after the bathroom with the rubber duckies."

"Those were Dad's idea," Steve muttered.

"So, wanna play catch?" Tony suggested as Fury went inside.

"Alright," said Steve, slightly begrudgingly.

The three boys played catch, Steve growing more and more frustrated with Bruce as they played. He would mess up almost constantly, ruining whatever streak they were going for.

Inside, Fury and Phil watched them from the kitchen window.

"I guess we're having our own sleep over," said Phil, washing his hands. He'd finally finished Steve's costume and was getting ready to prepare the feast the kids would soon be eating.

"No, we're not," Fury replied. "I'm only here because Howard couldn't make it."

"Y'know, sleep overs really aren't that bad," Phil said, pulling out pre-made pizza dough from the fridge. "We can watch movies all night while the kids stay up. Then again, they'll probably crash by eleven. I mean, the oldest is nine and the youngest is seven. Anyways, I have a lot of horror movies and ones about World War Two; Steve loves them."

"Do you have a guest room?" Nick replied, ignoring all the other questions.

"Nope, and all the couches are way too small for you to sleep on," said Phil. "However, there's plenty of space in my room for you to stretch out. Besides, I got the Bourne collection last night. Have you ever seen them? You seem like you would like them. Oh, there's Clint."

"Fine," Fury sighed. "We'll watch them. But that's it."

"That's all I'm asking," said Phil and then ooh'd seeing Natasha appear from nowhere, grabbing the ball and hurling it towards Clint. He dove, rolled and caught the ball solidly in his right hand before launching it back at Steve.

"Where did Natasha get such a good arm from?" Fury asked.

"I think she's on the softball team," Phil replied. "I mean, she tried out for the baseball team, but they said she had to be on the softball team."

"I see," he said.

Back outside, Thor and Loki were finally being dropped off by Odin. Loki stood awkwardly behind Thor, wishing he wasn't the youngest. Thankfully, his brother was the biggest.

"Ah, comrades," said Thor, catching the ball Bruce had meant to toss to Tony, but had thrown it towards the right instead. "What are we beginning this sleep over with?"

The heads of the children snapped to look at Steve who blinked a few times before letting a grin stretch over his face.

"We, my friends," he began, smile growing even more, "are about to become pirates."