April, 2018

The first streaks of light signaling the dawn were stretching across the sky, touching the slowly-budding trees. By degrees, it filtered through leaves and branches to a slate blue house, set away from the main road, silent as the day harkened.

Well, silent until the middle step, which squeaked under the heavy pressure of a foot. A muttered curse followed, as well as the quick steps of the person reaching the bottom of the stairwell. Shaking his head, Steve Rogers exhaled slowly as the jingle of tags on a collar rattled through the air. He leaned back against the wall, brushing down his navy sweatpants and the tee he wore. Idly, he scratched at the beard now covering his chin and cheeks, the morning itch assuaged (it had been grown as part of a charity effort for an event Tony Stark had hosted in November—the other man had suggested it mostly as a joke. Once he'd done so, though, he found he didn't mind it all that much, and so kept it). Raking back through his blond hair—a little longer now, enough to be in the combed-back style many men were favoring in that day and age—he smirked as a ball of tan and white fluff appeared at the top step, a little breath huffed out of the muzzle of the animal. The corgi could not be held back as she bounded down the stairs to him, a doggy smile appearing as her tongue hanged out the side of her mouth. Kneeling down, Steve began to pet her, appeasement for his next statement.

"Sorry, Bonnie, it's gonna be a hard run this morning," he apologized to the corgi, rubbing down her furry sides. He had woken with the intention of doing a full run, and he would not be dissuaded, not even by the small dog. Scratching between her ears, he promised aloud, "Tomorrow, okay?"

Bonnie nosed at his hands, giving a tiny yip when he quietly commanded her to go lay down. Instead of doing that, she went further into the living room, flopping on a pillow that had landed on the floor and raising her head imperiously. Chuckling once more, Steve exited the house, the cool spring air enveloping him as he went down the front steps. Deep breaths sustained him as he stretched out his legs, shaking out his arms a bit before he set his pace.

Down the drive he went, feet pounding on the gravel before he broke free onto the tarred road beyond the trees. The stretch of the path churned and whirled as he sprinted by, the streaks of light of the coming day glinting and beckoning through the branches of the trees. He enjoyed it, the solitude of the venture. The solitude, and the quiet, of the earth before it woke around him. There, he could hear it happening around him, without it being dulled by bureaucrats or silenced by cab horns. The rush of the wind against him as he moved, the thud of blood rushing through his veins accompanied by the tread of his feet as he ran encircled him. Miles were achieved before he turned around, stopping just before the spread of the trees opened up onto some fields.

It was time to get home, so the rest of the day could truly unfold.

Steve arrived back at the house a short time later, only slighted winded by the effort he put into his morning run. Swiping the sweat clear from his forehead and neck, he entered the slate blue domicile, eyes lighting fondly as he latched the front door behind him and made for the stairs to the second floor. Once there, he chose to turn the corner rather than continue on, going to the slightly opened door there. Peeking in, his gaze darted over the bedroom. Toys were strewn around a toy-box, a stuffed giraffe nestled in the rocking chair in the corner, a filled laundry basket perched and ready to be taken down. His eyes ran over to the crib along the wall, and he smiled to himself. Inside, in elephant-patterned pajamas, was a toddler, a boy just a few months away from his second birthday. Sandy brown hair spiked up at odd angles on his head, his legs tangled in a blanket and his hands bopping around his favored stuffed sheep toy.

Like him, his son Grant was an early riser, and Steve couldn't find a reason to complain about it (not that day, at least).

"Morning, little man," he stage-whispered, and the little boy turned at his voice, smiling broadly. At once, Grant was on his feet, gripping the rails of his crib and bouncing at the sight of his father.

"Daddy!" he cried, one hand reaching over the rails and curling at him. His arms lifted, and the young toddler crowed, "Daddy, up."

The corner of Steve's mouth curled higher, and he crossed the room to the crib, picking up his son as he'd been asked.

"Yep, up and at 'em," he affirmed, bouncing him a few times before nuzzling at the boy's cheeks. The scratch of his beard had the little guy cawing and giggling happily. Holding him close, Steve started to nod, to persuade the little guy to agree with his next proposal. "Let's go see if Mommy's awake, huh?"

The young boy bobbed his head as well. "Yeah."

The agreement made, Steve carried his boy out of the room and down the hall, the knob turning silently under his free hand as they entered. Upon entering, he choked off a laugh; all the covers on the bed were wadded up on one side. Somewhere within, under the cotton and snuffling, was Holly, and he was intent on drawing her out. Crossing over to her side of the bed, he tickled Grant's belly, his giggles making the lump shift ever-so-slightly.

"Good morning, Mommy," Steve murmured, causing his wife's form to stir under the bedclothes. Clearing his throat, he repeated his words at a slightly louder tone, his free hand tugging at the comforter. Drawing it down from over her head, he withheld a chuckle as the tangled waves of her dark hair were pushed out of her face, revealing narrowed, dark brown eyes. Upon spying the boy in his arms, she did managed a slight curve of the lips, a long breath huffed out through her nose. Grant, delighted to see his mother, immediately pivoted in his father's embrace, arms opening to her.

"Kiss?" he implored, big blue eyes staring down at Holly. Slowly, she nodded, shifting under the remaining covers.

"Yes, you get a kiss," she conceded, a tiny, genuine grin on her lips as she sat up. With the comforter and sheet falling away, the spread of her baby bump beneath the sleep shirt was all the more obvious. Steve could not help but smile inwardly, still; within the first few months of trying, Holly had become pregnant with their second child. Nearly in her eighth month now, her belly had certainly swelled, and had become a fascination with Grant. Which he demonstrated as he was passed down to her, little fingers tapping her belly before she gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek.

"No kisses for me?" Steve inquired, a playful pout on his lips as she rolled her eyes at him.

"You keep waking me up too freakin' early," she retorted, eyebrows inclining slightly. It had not been the first morning that she had been woken in such a manner, before her alarm clock even had the chance to go off. He shrugged at that, muttering something unintelligible to her ears, and she did not press him on it. Instead, she shifted her legs over a little, allowing Steve a spot on the edge of the mattress to sit. He took up her silent offer, laying a hand on her covered knee as he sat.

"If I make breakfast, would that get me one?" he bargained, an eyebrow spiking slightly. Her gaze turned thoughtful, and she cocked her head to the left.

"Possibly." Letting Grant slide off her lap and onto the bed beside her, a pronounced wince decorated her features. At once, Steve scooted closer, fingers tangling with hers as he looked at his wife.

"How are you? Both of you?" he asked her, his voice pitching low as their son waddled atop the bedspread, chattering to himself. Concern surfaced in his blue eyes as she toyed with his fingers for a moment. Though the time she'd carried Grant was no sinecure, it was even less so with the second child. She'd suffered morning sickness all the way through the first and second trimesters, and her energy was sapped more often than not. She'd teetered on the edge of dehydration a few times, countering it with a stay in the base's infirmary just to be safe. Thankfully, the nausea she felt had waned by the time the third trimester had started, but it had made her husband all the more wary for her health, and the health of the little one, too.

Her answer began with a shrugged shoulder, a weary resignation lighting her irises.

"Achy, tired. In summary, same as always," Holly reported, leaning back against the headboard and pillow. Wiggling a bit to alleviate the pressure, she continued, "She is turning cartwheels and landed on my bladder a couple of times while you were out. It's a happy morning for her."

Despite her discomfort, Holly's lips did pull into a grin, as did Steve's. As with Grant, they had been determined to know the sex of the coming baby, and that time, he was able to be there when the doctor had announced that it was a girl. Actually looking at the screen, being there for the print-off and seeing the pure delight in his wife's face, compacted upon his own happiness. A girl, their girl...a sister for their son, a daughter...it was another memory to relish.

Presently, he shook his head slightly, smiling again.

"Good job, sweet pea," he congratulated the baby in her womb, bending and planting a kiss on Holly's swollen belly. A kick reverberated then, close to where he'd pecked, and he chortled, moving a hand over the area and waiting for another. Soon enough, the baby obliged, thumping up and unknowingly kicking into his palm. Their son crawled over to them, sitting up by his mother and looking at her curiously.

"Sis good?" asked Grant, his tiny hands braced atop his daddy's.

"Yes, your sister is very good, bud," Steve assured him, patting him on the back before hoisting him up once more. "C'mon, let's go get something to eat."

Putting him on the floor, he admonished the toddler to stand back a bit, waiting until he did so to rise and take his wife's hands in his. Helping her out of the bed, her fingers curled hard around his as she levered herself up, daring to stretch up onto the balls of her feet. Quickly bracing her waist, he bent and was rewarded with her mouth meeting his. His heart thrummed as he held her there, slanting his head to better sip at her lips. After a couple of seconds—and a disgruntled huff from their boy—he pulled back, staring down at Holly as she grinned and sighed.

"Ah, so I did get my kiss," he breathed, lips curving and a glint coming into his gaze.

"Can't resist your lumberjack charms, I guess," she teased him, patting his beard and smirking up at him. His eyes darkened a bit at her ministrations, but he merely planted a peck in her hair before palming the small of her back. An insistent tugging at the leg of his sweatpants came then, and he scooped up the toddler to carry him down as they went. As he promised, breakfast was served, Holly supervising Grant in his highchair while he ate oatmeal, their own bowls accompanied by toast and market-brand jam. Gathered at the table at the far end of the kitchen, the adults trading conversation as the corgi reappeared trotting between her filled food bowl and their chairs for the chance at scraps.

"Everything's okay across the pond?" she asked, cleaning up a plop of oatmeal that had been cast to the floor before Bonnie could eat it. "Joe, Pietro, and the others are alright?"

Steve dipped his chin, swallowing his mouthful. At that point of their relationship, he knew he could trust her with a few details about his work. Being a commander of the world's foremost specialist team was not easy, and it helped to have a partner he could talk to about it, at least a little. No explicit details were given, of course—which neither of them had problems with—but she knew of a few of the members personally, and it wouldn't really do any harm to know how they were.

"For the most part," he conceded, witnessing the slight flinch in her features. Knowing he would have to pony up or let her concern build, he went on, "Duquesne took a hit, so he's out for a little while. Guerrero is sore about it, too; says he's been ranting so loudly in his head that it's been giving her migraines."

That managed to curve her lips a little; it didn't surprise her at all. The two had harbored a friendly antagonism for each other since the young woman had been recruited, so Steve had gathered (Holly maintained it was repressed attraction, while her husband refused to speculate about yet another interdepartmental relationship that may or may not be). Whatever was between Synapse and the Swordsman, it had remained at banter and friendly sniping; anything else, they could take up with Human Resources and be done with it. Joe Chapman, the field leader for the secondary team, had enough on his plate to deal with, as well; Pietro Maximoff never made anything simple, and he knew that from experience, as well.

"You hear from your publisher lately?" he asked then, recalling the phone call she'd received just before they'd put Grant to bed the night before. She'd gone into another room to take it, but when she returned she had nothing to say, save for a thinning of her lips. As she did the two-part shuffle to get up and place her cleared dishes, she reported that they would be sending back a few chapters of her second novel, more edits and suggestions for her to do. They requested all be sent back within a couple of weeks' time, but she was frustrated with it. The process of writing was enjoyable, but she was trying to fit it in between full-time work as an archivist and taking care of their son. Thankfully, the publishing house and her agent were more than accommodating due to the difficulties she was having with the pregnancy, but she knew that wouldn't last too much longer. Tutting at that, Steve hastened to assure her that she could do it, getting up and rubbing her shoulders in placation. After all, once the edits were taken care of, it would only be a matter of time before the sequel to her first novel would go to print, and wasn't that something to look forward to?

Once she'd given a nod in agreement, he squeezed her shoulders once more before heading back to the table, retrieving all the dirty dishes for washing.

"Tony's up for the weekend, right?" she inquired, swiping at a piece of hair stuck to her forehead. Steve hummed under his breath as he went back to the table, with Grant raising his arms and declaring himself finished with his food.

"Yeah, doing touch-ups to the lab," he told her, lifting Grant out of the chair and placing him on the ground. Bonnie scampered over to the little guy, and he squealed, wrapping his arms around her before toddling after her to the living room. His father tiptoed in their path, leaning against the arch separating the two spaces and keeping an eye on them as they went. "Adding in new equipment, that sort of thing."

"I suppose communal dinner will be had tonight, since everyone is at home," she mused, tapping a thumb along the counter, waiting for the basin to fill with hot water.

"Yeah. Want to go to that, once work is done?" he wondered, brow creasing slightly. "I can pick up Grant and then we can head up."

Holly tossed him a grin. "If Wanda's cooking, sure, I'm up for it."

With the dishes soaking, the family went about the business of getting ready for the day. Showers were had, everyone was dressed, and soon enough the two parents were walking the little guy out the back door, Bonnie secure inside as the locks slid home and the system was armed. Heading to the adjacent garage, Steve knelt down by his son before they all parted ways.

"You be a good boy, okay?" he told Grant, tipping his chin up with a finger so the child could look him in the eye. The boy nodded, a toothy grin given to his father.

"'Kay."

"Alright," the blond man replied, pulling him into his arms. "Love you."

"'Ove you," the little guy said, arms wrapping around his neck and a last kiss pressed to his scruff. Standing straight, Steve kissed Holly good-bye as well, promising to check in with her when he went to get Grant after work. With the little guy placed into his seat in the back of her new car (her old, blue Buick finally bit the dust a few months back. The new vehicle, an Avenger, always made her laugh, while he just rolled his eyes and ignored it), the pair of them crunched down the gravel road just as he climbed into his own truck. Tapping the console, he armed the security system and put the AI, JJ, on alert before backing out of the garage himself.

The fifteen minute drive to the Avengers base seemed to fly by, the sun fully out and not a cloud in the sky as he pulled onto the frontage road leading to the underground parking. It almost seemed from the moment he stepped out of the vehicle (snagging a spot beside his wife's car, incidentally), there was someone there, requesting his time or hoping to get his permissions on something. While Maria Hill was actually the director for the base's operations, Steve did tend to several functions within, particularly the upkeep of new recruits and reading scouting reports. As it turned out, several of the trainees brought in the last month wanted him to do some take-down demonstrations. One turned into several, with agents taking turns coming at him before being shown of to move and maneuver around enemies fluidly. By the time he actually made it to his office on the top floor, he'd found a pile of reports in the tray on his desk, as well as emails forwarded from Coulson, Fury, and Chapman. Flopping into his chair, he gave his face a preemptive scrub, squaring his shoulders and preparing to bury himself in the papers. One by one, they were examined, cross-checked against the others from the last couple of missions the team had undertaken. There was some chatter about the surfacing team in New York City, and about the Spider-Man swooping around Queens, but otherwise, those that they detained did not have much to say. Whether they were HYDRA or just plain, old criminals, they didn't like to chat with the Avengers. Well, until Natasha came at them; some of them sang a different tune when she went to work. And not only her, as well. Smirking to himself, he shuffled the papers back into his tray, highlighter on certain points and checks beside others.

Good Lord, he was beginning to miss the training room and showing people how to tuck and roll.

A knock came at the door a few hours later, pulling his attention away from the computer screen. He let out a soft sigh as he looked up, a weary grin stretching his lips as he registered who was there. Bucky Barnes opened the door, standing within the arch, his lips quirked into a smirk and his eyebrows raised. The new Captain America—finally being referred to simply as Captain by the press—was dressed down in civvie clothes and brown boots, his cybernetic arm fully exposed. Like Steve, he'd grown his hair out, though he'd started well before the commander had. It was twisted back into a pony tail, and he actually looked relaxed. Generally, he was keyed up for a day or two after returning from a mission, but he must have had a session with his therapist that morning to put him on an even keel.

"Hey, Buck," Rogers greeted him, about to gesture for him to have a seat. His phone chimed then, and he glanced down at the device with a frown. The alert he'd preset glared back at him, and he let out another breath as he rose from his chair. Flicking a few fingers towards the hall, he said, "Sorry, but are you able to make it a walking report? Gotta check in with Tony, didn't have time beforehand."

Bucky shrugged, stepping out of the way to let him pass before following. "Sure, if it means that the handwritten one can be a little late."

Steve scoffed audibly, but murmured, "Fine, I'll accept it this time. Tell me what happened."

As the two men traipsed down the hall, Barnes did exactly that. The most recent foray the team had taken had brought them into Germany. Another of the splinter sect that Coulson was hunting down had resurfaced, joining with some HYDRA operative that had eluded the team. In what Stark was terming as the "Douche-bag Hat Trick", apparently previous employees of A.I.M. had also joined up, looking to supply the gathering soldiers with knock-offs of Extremis. After a few days of recon, the team was able to infiltrate the compound, shutting it down from the inside. Due to the presence of the drug, Stark had been summoned to join the full-time team, collecting the cruder formula in an effort to tailor the cure he'd given Pepper to it. Naturally, the fight had escalated, but it was ultimately contained.

"And the damage?" Rogers inquired, face set and his bright eyes considering a point in the distance as they walked.

"Minimal, only to the facility itself and a few of the agents we caught," Bucky stated. His flesh hand came up, tucking back a few loose strands of his hair as he considered something else. "Hawley said Ross is trying to stir up trouble again, but since we've been giving him little traction, he's starting to really lose his credibility."

Rogers shook his head; Senator Ross rarely ever failed to put forth his opinion on the Avengers, and that time was no exception.

"Can't say I'm disappointed to hear that," he replied, the pair of men sharing a smirk at that. Taking another flight of stairs down, he cut a left through the door on the bottom landing. "Still, we gotta keep this up, and give him no reason to get it back."

"Yessir," Barnes riposted, making Steve blow a hard breath out his nose. Ignoring that, Bucky scrubbed at the back of his neck and continued, "Natalia and Wilson finished with interrogation this morning, they're gonna get in around seventeen-hundred hours."

The delight in Bucky's face was muted, but Steve still noticed it when he glanced over.

"Perfect timing," he noted aloud, watching out the corner of his eye as his friend coughed once.

"You expect anything less?"

Steve snorted at that, affixing his friend with a knowing grin. "I know you don't."

Particularly when it came to a fiery, redheaded ex-agent, he mused inwardly, but he settled for a chuckle after Bucky rolled his eyes and muttered something along the lines of 'bite me.' Finally, they arrived at a set of heavy, metal double doors. The light about it was green, indicating it was safe for entry, and so Rogers pushed it open.

"I'll wait here," the brunet man murmured, hanging back on the threshold. Cocking his eyebrow, Steve paused.

"I thought you guys were better," he replied in a hushed tone. Though it was doubtful Tony and Bucky would ever be great friends, they were working together more and more frequently. The specters of Howard and Maria Stark would likely always hover between them, but they had been civil to one another, as far as he knew. Bucky shrugged a shoulder, and shook his head.

"Better, yeah," he intoned honestly. His cornflower blue gaze focused on the sliver of the room he could see from the door, and he smirked wryly. "Not good enough to enter the sacred space, I think."

Steve clenched his jaw, but he would not fight that. Not that day.

"Okay, I'll be out in a minute. We'll get some food then," the commander said, checking his watch and noting how late it had really gotten. Striding into the room, he touched two fingers to his temple and gave Barnes a salute, a halfhearted one sent back as he went in further. Crossing the gymnasium-sized space, he worked around the wide, steel tables with tools and equipment strewn across them. Ducking beneath several high definition displays, he cast a fast look at the bank of display cases, each one housing different suits. At the far end, another brunet fellow stood, a welding torch in his hand and a mask pushed over his face. He was putting the finishing touches on

"You know, your pet cyborg can come in," Stark grunted, lifting his welding mask to look properly at Steve. Shrugging a shoulder, his jaw ticked. "So long as he doesn't touch anything."

"Can't guarantee that he wouldn't, though," the commander retorted, looking at all the trinkets and gadgets. Back in the day, the sort of things the Starks put out in the scientific community had fascinated Buck, and he had slowly been regaining his passion for it. Were he to gain access to Stark's Iron Man bay, he wasn't sure he would be able to get him to leave. Cupping a hand in the air, he posited, "Probably best for everything all around that he doesn't."

The tech genius canted his head, setting down the torch and removing the safety gloves quickly. The silver wedding band on his ring finger caught the eye, as ever, but he did not draw attention to it. His wedding to Pepper, a massive blow-out that had swamped the society pages for months, was definitely a milestone for him, even if it was conducted with only a Justice of the Peace on the top levels of the Tower. (It nearly usurped the ball drop in Times Square, due to it being held on New Year's Eve, but the stations had asserted their will over the telecast Stark had permitted of the reception.) Steve had attended with Holly and their son, along with a few team members, but the affair was generally kept within the family. Still, a few months had gone by, and the furor was finally beginning to die down. Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, husband. It still took a bit of adjustment, but Steve quickly shook off those thoughts.

"Fair enough. Checking up on me, Dad?" he quipped, waggling his eyebrows at the blond man as he pulled the mask off his head.

"Just wanted to see the progress for myself," Rogers returned, glancing at the widgets Tony had been working on. Once Peter graduated from high school, he would be going upstate for the summer. Officially, he'd be working as an intern for the lab there, but it was the unofficial stuff that he would be focusing on. He had come a long way as Spider-Man, but he stood to gain more in training were he able to stay on for a longer period of time. Granted, he could not be away from Queens for too long, but he was granted permission to call upon quinjets and such to be ferried to and from the base now. A portion of the bay would be his to make adjustments to his own suit, and to continue his work before heading to college in the fall. A corner of Steve's mouth lifted as he stared at the gathered tools and data pads. "Parker will be over the moon when he gets here in June."

"The idea alone has been giving him the happy tingles, which is a little disturbing to think about, on some levels," Tony muttered, shaking his head at the thought. The last meeting he had with the teen had proved it, the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed attitude he had in the early days surfacing when Stark had told him about the concessions being made for him. Stepping back from his project, he inclined his chin. "So long as he likes his little corner, it's cool."

"Oh, he will. I know it," Rogers responded. Shifting his gaze back towards the suits, he wondered, "You have anything else going at the moment?"

Proceeding to tell of the couple of ideas hanging out in the databanks, including refitting a suit with lighter and better retro-reflective panels for stealth purposes, Stark was soon interrupted by a low-pitched whine. At once, the high definition displays flashed red, and the sound grew louder. Retrieving his phone out of his pocket, Steve stared at in surprise.

He stared with good reason; it was the first security breach the base had ever registered. At once, Tony jogged to the nearest display, tapping against it and calling out to JJ to locate the threat.

"Sensors on the rooftop platform have been triggered," he told the commander as the screen filled with images of the tripped sensors. Nodding once, Steve hurriedly called up to Hill, relaying the news along with his own commands.

"Send agents to respond to threat, neutralize if aggressive but do not kill," he stated, striding back towards the exit and motioning for his friend to come. "Stark and Barnes will be behind me for contact."

With Maria rogering that, the two men beckoned Barnes, all of them going to the emergency stairwell and clattering up them quickly. The whir of Tony's watch forming into a powered gauntlet was accompanied by the clicking plates of Bucky's arm locking into place, the ring of boots echoing around them all as they ran. It took a few minutes before they burst out onto the platform, a veritable ring of black-clad agents posted with guns at the ready. Striding up to them, they broke apart in time for the trio to note the new arrivals. Jerking to a stop, they did notice them, alright.

One was unfamiliar, standing tall and his gaze piercing them all. His black hair was slicked into place, a few free stands landing atop his head. Gray streaked at his temple, some evidence of it beginning to show in his goatee. A great, crimson cape wrapped and whirled around him, stirring with something much stronger than the passing breeze. At the center of his blue tunic sat an ornate medallion, glinting in the sunlight. Dully, memories of a description given by both detainees and Wanda Maximoff filtered into Steve's mind. This was a man who had eluded them in the past, a man who would cut through planes of reality to right the wrongs of the world. The power around him—within him—radiated fully, hitting them squarely as they all looked on in slight wonderment and confusion.

The second, however, was someone they knew all too well. With his cropped curls and glasses askew on his face, the quiet, unassuming man was struggling to catch his breath. He mopped a hand across his forehead as he gasped, attempting to regain composure. Focus, somehow, was drawn to him, and the trio shot shocked looks to one another.

"Doctor Banner?" Steve breathed, eyes widening further when the smaller man gave him a weak wave.

"Hey..." he said, his dark gaze suddenly cut off as he bent at the waist, violent retching sounds coursing out of his throat. The stranger stepped forward, laying a hand upon his shoulder and encouraging him to bend at the waist.

"Head between your legs, Banner," encouraged the caped man beside him. Looking up, he cast them all an apologetic look. "Sorry, motion sickness isn't all that uncommon with portal travel."

The agents around them started to shift in the stances, quiet murmurs being passed, and Barnes gave Steve a pointed look. Clearing his throat, the blond man took another step forward, one hand coming up and making a chopping motion at the gathered agents.

"Stand down," he commanded, all cold authority in his voice. He knew that Banner's sudden appearance, let alone the stranger's, did not herald anything good, particularly as he had not been back at the base for over a year. And not only that, he could see the frissons of fear in his eyes. He was supposed to be on Asgard with Thor, looking into the problem of the Infinity Stones.

What was he doing there?

At his demand, the guns lowered further, and Rogers continued, "Back to stations. Now."

At once, the agents peeled away from the ring they'd constructed, some glancing over their shoulders at the commander as they went back inside. Barnes crossed his arms then, Stark shooting Steve a fast look as Banner did as the stranger asked, his breath being caught as the cool spring breeze whipped around them.

"Well, this is one way to liven up a Wednesday," Tony muttered, and Rogers cast a hard glance at him, which did nothing to disguise the worry in his eyes.


A/N: Yes, it is quite a way to shake things up at work, watching a friend succeed in portal travel with a stranger. :-P

There is a bit of a time jump since the end of In Due Course. Hopefully, this isn't too jarring for most people. I wanted to get as close to the action of the story as I could, without a nearly a year of build-up prior. I know, I did not write in detail about Holly becoming pregnant again, or about Tony's wedding, but like I said, after the fluff fest of the previous story, I wanted to get down to business...to defeat the Huns...no...

Yes, I caved and went for a bearded Steve. Those freakin' SDCC pics/posters/bootlegs got me, dang it…

And no worries, Bruce does have an explanation. It will be involve events from the previous days, but there is a reason as to why he is Earth-side again.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, Disney, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!