During Christmas time, this little blip of a fic demanded to be completed. Out of all the fics I have in the works, and care way more about! Who knows why these things happen. ;) Anyway, It morphed out of anther story I was trying to write a long time ago. I had mixed feelings about it and I decided it wasn't worth posting. But it's done and it is what it is, so I why not post it. :)

I love the stand alone movies that came after Avengers 1, but I don't love the disunity of the Avengers during that time. I love the idea of them BEING THE AVENGERS after the first movie, instead of completely parting ways and fighting their own battles. I'm very partial to one big mess of a super hero family all living in Stark Tower. :D

I'd say this takes place early on, after A1.

Enjoy!

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Bruce listened to the elevator's quiet hum as he rode it down to Natasha and Clint's floor. Most mornings he would be immediately absorbed by work in one of the many labs, but this particular morning he was headed for the deadly duo's personal gym. It had been too long since he last practiced any juijitsu or breathing meditation and he felt like giving it a go again. It was usually a dice roll whether or not Tony would join him in his usual morning lab work. If the guy wasn't already hunkered down in some other lab, he was either there when Bruce arrived, having not slept, or he didn't arrive until noon, having slept too much. As much as Bruce enjoyed Stark's company, he opted for a quiet morning. Besides, his mind could use a little clearing. By now it was common knowledge that if peace and quiet was what one was looking for, Clint and Natasha's floor was the place to go. Tony had yet to catch on to this little secret. Natasha and Clint didn't mind visitors. They were not territorial people and, each in their own way, had really warmed up to the whole team thing. Besides, if either of them wanted to be left alone they would simply disappear.

Before he went to the gym, he slipped into their kitchen just to take a look. One never knew with kitchens. All of his "travels" had made him into a bit of an opportunist.

To his surprise he found Captain Rogers there, seated at the table with a newspaper.

"Morning, Steve."

The soldier looked up from his reading and nodded politely.

"Dr. Banner. How are you?"

"I'm good. …You know you can call me Bruce."

Steve smiled. "Sorry."

"Barton and Romanoff around?"

"I came to see if they were up for sparring, but I haven't seen either other them."

"Mind if I take some of this?" Bruce asked, motioning toward the coffee pot.

"Help yourself. I made a whole pot in case they showed up."

Bruce grabbed a mug, filled it, then settled himself down at the table across from Steve.

Steve was looking at him with mild curiosity. "I don't mean to be rude, but... you drink coffee?"

Bruce smiled sheepishly. "Old habits die hard. But, one cup doesn't hurt. The rest of the time I stick to the herbal tea."

Steve nodded. "Wish Stark felt that way."

Bruce laughed. "I can't disagree."

Steve held up the newspaper.

"Want a section?"

"No thank you." Bruce said.

"Alright." Steve nodded. "...Would you like the cross word?"

"That I will take."

Steve pulled out the page and slid it across to Bruce.

He watched for a moment as Bruce pulled a pen from his front shirt pocket and went right to work on the puzzle. As he watched, something inside him began to ache a little. The doctor's comfort and familiarity with the clues and nuances of a world he had missed seventy years of reminded him (yet again) how out of place he was.

He leaned back in his chair and tried to go back to reading, but he just kept watching from over the top of his paper as Bruce's pen moved rapidly across the page.

Eventually he put the paper down on the table. He looked out the window and sipped his coffee. Bruce was engrossed in what he was doing and paid no attention to Steve.

From way up here, the city looked more or less as he remembered it. It was when he hit the street that it overwhelmed him. But even up here, in this place, with these men of the future, it seemed he was ever reminded that he was a foreigner.

Bruce eventually looked up from the puzzle. Steve's face was turned slightly toward the window, but he could still see it. His brow was furrowed and his blue eyes seemed to be desperate but unable to drink in the entire universe on the other side of that glass.

"Steve?"

Rogers blinked, breaking out of his revery.

"Yeah?" Now he was looking at Bruce, sadness written in his expression.

"You ok?" Bruce didn't know why he was prying, but the look on Steve's face was not unfamiliar to him.

Steve's lips tightened. All he wanted to do was give a sharp nod and be done with it. But here he was. There was no confidant from his past that he could conjure. He had to bite the bullet. He had to start over. There was nothing to lose.

"No." he let himself say. "I'm not."

Bruce sat back and returned the pen to his pocket.

Steve didn't want to talk about it, but didn't want to keep feeling the isolation anymore either.

Allowing him a moment without scrutiny, Bruce got up to refill their mugs. A moment later he placed a steaming mug on the table in front of Steve and sat down again.

"No time like the present." he said.

Steve gave a small chuckle. "Can't argue with that."