Author's note: Despite the title, this is a Thanksgiving story. You'll see.

The Fifth of July

It was well after 1 a.m. on July 5 when a weary Captain America climbed out of the SHIELD quinjet on the helipad of Avengers Tower.

There were only a few secure facilities in New York City where Captain America could walk in and Steve Rogers could walk out. Avengers Tower — where S. Rogers was on the payroll as a security consultant — wasn't the most convenient to Steve's Brooklyn home, but it was where he felt most comfortable.

But now — having been on the move since 4 a.m. July 4 — he was beginning to wish he'd just bunked down on the helicarrier. Keep going, he told himself. You'll be in your own bed soon.

The elevator door opened automatically as Cap approached. "Welcome back, Captain Rogers," said the voice of Tony Stark's AI.

"Thank you, Jarvis," Cap said.

Inside the elevator, finally out of public view, Captain America pulled off his cowl/helmet and became Steve Rogers again. He leaned against the side of the elevator, an uncharacteristic posture for the Super Soldier. It seemed really late to Steve who still tended to follow a lights out at 10, reveille at dawn schedule.

SHIELD had sent Captain America on a cross-country jaunt for Independence Day. Steve was feeling resentful — and ashamed of feeling that way — that he had been pushed so hard on his birthday.

Yes, Captain America was born on the Fourth of July. Even Steve had considered it ironic after he'd been assigned the red, white and blue uniform. Steve was pretty sure the Avengers didn't know his birthday, since he hadn't been teased unmercifully by Tony; but he was equally certain that SHIELD Director Nick Fury knew because, one, he was Nick Fury, and, two, Agent Phil Coulson — a Captain America fan since childhood — would have made sure the information as in SHIELD's files.

Steve was peeved that he had been worked like a plow horse for the whole of a national holiday that was also his birthday. He was tired and hungry and just wanted to go home.

When the elevator door opened, Steve heaved himself out of the elevator, dragging himself toward the lounge that Clint Barton had taken to calling the Assembly Room.

He hesitated when he heard the murmur of a man and woman's voices from the room. Steve didn't want to walk in on a pair of lovers, but his kit bag was in there.

"It's OK, Steve," Pepper Potts called. "Jarvis warned us you were on your way down. You can come in."

"Yeah, Spangles, we're decent," Tony Stark, added, finishing with a grunt that was probably Pepper elbowing him in the ribs.

Steve entered and stopped cold. His friends were not merely decent; they were fully dressed. Tony wore black jeans and his typical rock and roll T-shirt. In deference to the holiday, this shirt read "Born in the U.S.A." But Pepper! At nearly 2 a.m., Pepper was dressed for work in a neat A-line skirt and a crisp cream blouse that was getting slightly wrinkled where Tony was nuzzling her neck. A contrasting blazer was neatly folded over the back of the couch and spike heels stood side-by-side on the floor, awaiting her nylon-covered feet.

The couple stared, equally confounded by the disheveled appearance of the spit-and-polish soldier. The upright military man leaned against the doorframe as if he needed the support. His cowl was held laxly in one hand and his left arm sagged until his shield rested on his booted toe. His usually neat blond hair was dark with sweat and mussed in a terminal case of cowl hair. His cheeks looked gaunt in the dim light and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Steve!" Pepper exclaimed in concern.

"How come you're all dressed up?" Steve asked frowning. The question proved he was tired. He would never be so direct and nosy otherwise.

"I'm expecting conference call from our affiliate in Dubai," she answered. "They're just starting their business day there."

"Pepper terrifies them," Tony said proudly. "They call in the middle of our night and she looks like she doesn't need to sleep. But you, you look like you do need sleep. Jarvis said you acted tired, but you look absolutely whipped," he said frankly. "Sit down, man, before you fall down."

"I'm afraid if I stop moving, I'll never get going again," Steve confessed.

"You don't need to keep moving," Pepper said. "Stay here for the rest of the night — or morning," she urged.

"That room where you usually change is open," Tony said, confirming the invitation.

"Well …"

"C'mon, we decorated just for you," Tony said slyly, getting a stern look from Pepper.

Steve surrendered and dropped heavily into what was tacitly considered "Cap's chair." It was well cushioned, but had a tall, straight back that suited the soldier better than any of the other Avengers. Today he slumped in it as he admired the decorations. Red, white and blue crepe paper streamers draped from each wall with bunches of balloons tied in each corner. Fourth-of-July tablecloths – slightly stained – covered every flat surface.

"You have a party?" he asked wistfully. (The "without me" was unsaid but not unheard.)

"We were hoping you'd get back in time to join us," Pepper said.

"Yeah, your note didn't say how long you'd be gone," Tony said. "And about that, you don't have to list everything you eat. I'm not going to send you a bill," Tony added. "Even you can't eat me out of house and home. You can eat as much as you want."

"I know." And Steve did. Tony was generous with his food and drink and most of his toys. "But if I don't leave a note, how will you know what's missing?"

Tony shook his head in exasperation. "Jarvis keeps track," he said, as if Steve should have known. "Jarvis updates the food supply and orders whenever something gets low. How's the Poptart supply, J?" He called aloud.

"One case of chocolate fudge, half a case of frosted strawberry, half a case of Wildilicious Wild Berry. Replacements are already on order, sir," the computerized voice replied.

Tony spread his hands in a "see?" gesture.

"OK, I won't do it again," Steve agreed.

"So to go back to the original thought, we didn't expect you to be gone so long."

"Neither did I," Steve sighed. "Director Fury said several communities had asked for Captain America to officiate at their Fourth of July celebrations. He said they picked a couple and would I do it. Of course I said yes."

"Of course," Tony said wryly.

"You could have said, no," Pepper scolded mildly.

"I'm a soldier, ma'am," Steve answered without opening his eyes. "We're not allowed to say, no."

And that was just sad, Tony and Pepper thought, on the same wavelength for once. Pepper thought she needed to boost Steve's independence, break a little of that army conditioning, while Tony wondered if Steve really was still in the army. Surely no enlistment lasted 70 years. Had Fury coerced Steve into signing up again while the man was still bewildered by his time-displacement. Tony would have a few, very loud words to say, if that was true.

But in the meantime he only said, "So, where have you been?"

"Bakersfield."

"Bakersfield," Tony frowned in thought, trying to place Bakersfield on the East Coast. "The only Bakersfield I know is in California," he admitted.

"That's the one," Steve answered, still with his eyes closed.

"California!" Pepper's voice was an unexecutive-like shriek of outrage. That made Steve's heavy eyes fly open. "They took you all the way to California and back in one day?"

"Mmm," Steve agreed warily. "That was our last stop."

"How many stops did you make?" Tony asked.

"Eight. We started with a pancake breakfast in Piscataway, New Jersey. Then I was parade grand marshal in Erie, Pennsylvania. I presented awards at a barbecue rib competition in Louisville, Kentucky, and visited a children's hospital in Mt. Vernon, Illinois, and served as grand marshal in an afternoon parade in Davenport, Iowa. Then I visited a veterans' hospital in St. Edward, Nebraska, and gave out awards for the Red, White and Blueberry Pie Eating Contest in Pahrump, Nevada, and then was master of ceremonies for the pre-fireworks concert in Bakersfield."

"How is that even possible?" Pepper asked. "You had to spend at least an hour in each place and then there was flight time."

"The time change was in his favor," Tony pointed out. "He gained three hours going west."

"But even so?'

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. Everything was timed. All the event people knew my time was limited and they were really helpful. They were all so happy to have Captain America for Fourth of July, even for a little while. They understood that they needed to share. SHIELD agents hustled me in and out at every stop and they crammed me into the backseat of a little jet — I could tell by the pressure, it went really fast."

"Ah," Tony said. "Did it press you back in your seat when it accelerated? Did you feel like you were going to black out?"

"Yes, it pressed me back like … like the Hulk was sitting on my chest," Steve said. "But, no, I didn't feel like I was going to black out."

"Well, you are Captain America, I suppose," Tony said thoughtfully.

"You suppose?"

Tony's quirky grin flashed. "You are Captain America. And you were in a secret, supersonic SHIELD aircraft that I may or may not have learned a teensy bit about when browsing through SHIELD files."

"Supersonic flight isn't strictly legal inside the U.S., is it?" Pepper asked.

"Not strictly, no. Certainly not near population centers. But we are talking SHIELD here. Assassins, super weapons and invisible flying aircraft carriers can't be strictly legal, either."

"Not to mention nuking New York," Steve said.

"Not to mention," Tony agreed.

"I can see why you're so tired, then, Steve," Pepper said sympathetically. "Did you have any fun?"

"A little. Met some awfully nice people and the kids were so excited. Every time I started to get fed up, I thought about the kids and kept going." A look Pepper couldn't decipher crossed Steve's face.

"What pissed you off, big guy?" Tony asked. "I've seen that disapproving look often enough."

"The Louisville Rib Princess threw herself on my lap for a photo and then she … wiggled," Steve said flatly.

Tony guffawed.

"It's not funny, Tony," Steve reproved his friend. "It was very …"

"Stimulating?" Tony teased.

"I was going to say, unladylike," Steve answered primly.

"What did you do? Dump her on the ground?" Tony asked.

"Of course he didn't, Tony. That would have been ungentlemanly." Pepper came to Steve's defense. "What did you do?"

"I picked her up and put her on my shoulder for the photographers. She was happy enough. She'll probably make front page in the papers," Steve said with an unusual sourness. Then he firmly changed the subject. "What did you guys do at the party?"

"We just had a little indoor picnic with the gang. All the traditional food — fried chicken, potato salad, watermelon, corn on the cob."

Pepper started to giggle as soon as Tony said "corn" and he was grinning broadly by the time he got to "cob."

"What'd I miss?"

"Thor ..." Pepper's explanation dissolved into more giggles. "We introduced him to corn on the cob ..." She started again but couldn't continue.

"He ate the whole thing, like a carrot!" Tony finished, laughing.

"You mean he just ..." Steve mimed taking a big bite. The others nodded, their eyes watering with mirth.

"Before we could stop him, he chewed it up in three bites."

"And he liked it," Pepper gasped around her giggles. "He ate five, even after we showed him the right way to eat it."

"He tried biting off the kernels and agreed they were sweet and flavorful, but he said the cob gave them body," Tony remembered.

"He said they were very filling," Pepper added.

"You think he really liked them?" Steve asked skeptically.

"Well, he asked Jane if he could have her cob whens she finished the corn, so I guess he did," Pepper answered.

"That's a godlike digestion for you," Steve said.

"So, have you tried corn cobs," Tony teased, because the Super Soldier could eat almost as much as the Asgardian.

Steve's stomach growled audibly, making Tony howl.

"Right now, anything sounds good to me," Steve answered wearily.

"When's the last time you ate?" Pepper asked sympathetically, because she knew Cap's altered metabolism needed a lot of fuel.

"My last real meal was breakfast," Steve answered, closing his eyes and leaning his head back wearily. "Though I did have a half a plain bologna sandwich and half an apple for lunch." His voice quivered oddly when he said that. "Apart from that, I've only had snacks. A couple handfuls of popcorn, a cookie, one sample rib at the barbecue competition."

His friends were looking at him wide-eyed because, one, that wasn't enough to keep a bug alive, let alone Captain America, and, two, sweet-tempered Cap sounded darn resentful about it. Steve realized it and gave the others a rueful smile.

"Sorry, Captain America shouldn't whine."

"I don't call it whining. It's a legitimate complaint," Pepper said forcefully.

"You mean the last meal you had was that breakfast you left me the note about at four o'clock this, I mean, yesterday morning?" Tony was outraged.

"Pretty much."

"But didn't you say something about a pancake breakfast?" Tony asked.

"I was flipping pancakes and serving them and posing for pictures. And smelling bacon and coffee the whole time. But when my time was up, my handlers rushed me off. They'd been stuffing themselves on pancakes the whole time I was working, but they didn't save any for me." Steve definitely sounded resentful. "I made sure they paid for their breakfasts, though," he said vindictively. "The organizers were willing to comp them because they brought me, but I insisted we couldn't do that because the event was for charity."

"I can see you can't eat when you're a parade grand marshal," Pepper said. "But what about the rib competition?

"It was mostly over when I got there, I just handed out the prizes. I did snatch a couple of leftover samples from the judges' table. The smell of 30 groups barbecuing ribs was driving me crazy!"

"You did get a little lunch, you said? Half a bologna sandwich?"

This time Steve's smile was genuine, but a little sad. "At lunchtime I was in the pediatric cancer ward of a children's hospital, the bravest little kids I've ever seen. I was in the hospital a lot when I was a kid," he reminded his friends. "I remember being lonely and scared in a crowded, ugly room. Hospitals have changed for the better in that way. These rooms were bright and had colorful murals on the walls. The kids were obviously sick, but they seemed cheerful. I talked to them about how I was sick a lot when I was a kid but doctors found a new medicine to try on me and I got big and strong, so they should never give up hope, because miracles do happen."

"There probably won't be a Dr. Erskine for them, Steve," Tony said gently.

"Maybe not, but children who would have been dead in my day are alive in this day. And I believe in miracles. Don't you, Tony?" Steve answered, looking pointedly at the faint glow of the arc reactor beneath Tony's shirt.

"Where did the sandwich come in?" Pepper asked, to take their minds off this possibly painful topic.

Steve's eyes softened. "One little girl had finished a round of chemotherapy that day. She was too weak to come to the playroom, but I visited her in her room. She's nine years old and looks six because the cancer chemicals have stunted her growth, but she's smart and she likes to draw, so we had something in common. They brought her lunch while we were talking, a plain bologna sandwich with no butter or mayonnaise on it and slices of apple — the only things she can keep down after chemo. I was so hungry my stomach growled just like it did a minute ago. I apologized, but Melodie offered to share. She said she can't eat more than half her sandwich on chemo days, but it's worth it because the tumor is shrinking and she'll be able to go home in two weeks. She insisted that I take half her lunch and when the nurse gestured at me to go ahead, I did. I ate half the sandwich and half the apple slices, carefully divided by Melodie, and she ate all of the other half while we talked about drawing and I showed her some sketches of New York. I felt guilty about taking the food, but the nurse said on our way out that Melodie ate more while talking to me than she usually does on chemo days."

"That's because you're such a charmer," Pepper said, making Steve duck his head modestly.

"And that's all you had. No dinner?" Tony asked.

"That was my own fault. I was supposed to eat after the veterans' hospital — it was scheduled in and everything," Steve said sarcastically, then his voice brightened. "But I met someone I knew."

"But that always happens, right? Some vet who said he knew you in the war?" Tony said.

Steve agreed. "But this one called me Captain Rogers, instead of Captain America, and I remembered him. He was in our motor pool, kept my bike running. We talked about old friends and I lost track of time, lost my chance at dinner, too. And then I had to judge a pie-eating contest! I was so jealous of the contestants! I asked if the blueberry pie was any good and they gave me a sliver to taste, then I was really jealous because it was good."

"And then you got to California," Pepper said.

"I introduced the songs, said a few words about patriotism and children's hospitals and veterans hospitals and then announced the fireworks. I didn't even stay for the fireworks show. I was so tired I wasn't even hungry any more. I just wanted to go home. But I didn't make it. I only got this far."

OK, now Tony and Pepper were getting worried. Steve sounded so fatalistic. Maybe those hollows in his cheeks weren't caused by a trick of the light.

"I think you need some food," Pepper said firmly, rising briskly to her feet. "I'll fix you something. We have plenty of leftovers — despite Thor."

Steve struggled to sit up. Pepper was an important person. She didn't need to bring him food like a secretary. "But what about your meeting?"

"They'll wait." She paused beside his chair and patted his head. "It's OK, Steve. That's what friends are for." She planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Hey!" Tony called. "Kissing a handsome blond right in front of me. I'm jealous."

"No, you're not," Pepper said, as she headed for the door.

"No, I'm not," Tony agreed. "Why aren't I?" he asked curiously.

"Because he's Steve," she answered, as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Steve blinked. "Should I be offended by that?"

"Only if you're offended that we both know you're too honorable to steal a friend's girl."

"Oh. OK then."

"And that Pepper thinks of you as an oversized little brother who needs to be taken care of and protected from bullies."

"Bullies like you?"

"Definitely!" came a shout from the kitchen.

Steve smiled and sank lower in the chair. "I think I can live with that. It's been an awfully long time — even from my perspective — since I had someone to look after me."

He closed his eyes, but Tony was a little worried that he wasn't falling asleep but was passing out from hunger.

"Hey! Don't go to sleep until we get you some food."

Steve blinked at Tony's worried face, then understood. "It's OK, Tony. I'm not dying. I can go longer than this without eating. Honest."

"That's a relief. I remember what you said after the Chitauri battle."

"That was when I was wounded. I did need to eat then. If I'm not really active …" Steve's mouth twisted in a wry grin. "… I guess I can go 70 years without eating."

Tony frowned. "Never thought about that. With your rapid metabolism, how'd you survive? How'd you heal? Hmm, the cold must have sent you into suspended animation," he speculated. "But how? And why?"

Steve frowned sternly. "No experimenting to find out," he said in his best commander's voice.

"No, of course not." Tony said with guilty haste. "I wonder … I bet there was some leftover energy from the Tesseract interacting with the Vita Rays." Steve's frown became a scowl. "OK, changing subject," Tony caroled. "Any other negatives from the serum?"

Steve thought, then grinned. "Super sweat," he answered. "I perspire like a waterfall and, well, I really need a shower right now. You're just lucky the uniform keeps most of it in."

Tony hadn't been expecting that, but … "That totally makes sense, though. Super muscles need super cooling."

"It also means you need to drink all of this," Pepper ordered, as she came in carrying a tray loaded with food and two quart pitchers of liquid. Steve leaped to his feet to take the heavy tray from her.

A plate was piled high with two fried chicken legs and three sandwiches made with thick cuts of ham, cheese, and tomato slathered with mustard just the way Steve liked it. Two hefty slices of watermelon and a third of an apple pie cut in half completed the meal. One pitcher contained water and the other milk.

When Steve set down the tray, Pepper poured a full glass of water and waited while Steve drank it down, then she refilled it with milk. "Now you eat. I've got to make a phone call." She gave Steve a chaste peck on the cheek and Tony a more promising kiss on the lips, then she went to her office to terrify the staff in Dubai.

Steve ate the first sandwich in greedy gulps, but then settled to his usual polite, neat, well-chewed bites. But because the super muscles included his jaw muscles, he could chew really fast when he was hungry.

Tony kept his guest company, sipping a cocktail.

"Are you getting up or going to bed?" Steve asked, because with Tony you couldn't tell.

"Pep and I went to bed just after the fireworks — to sleep!" Tony said in mock aggravation. "She's such a workaholic," added the world's worst workaholic.

Steve laughed at him and in a moment Tony joined in.

"I'm just waiting for her," Tony said. "Then we'll go back to bed. We don't always coincide. I want to make the most of it."

Steve nodded. He finished his last bite of pie and started to lift the tray to carry it to the kitchen.

"I'll get that," Tony promised. "You've done enough today ... yesterday. Get some sleep, you earned it."

Steve yawned and stretched. "I think I'll sleep in."

"Till what? 7:30?" Tony mocked his early rising friend.

"Maybe even eight," Steve answered. He retrieved his bag from behind the chair and went to the guest room.

As soon as Steve was out of earshot, Tony dialed a number he wasn't supposed to know.

"Stark! Do you know what time it is?" Director Fury roared into his personal cellphone.

"Do you know that Cap just got home half dead after being dragged clear across the country for some SHIELD dog and pony show?" Tony retorted.

There was silence, then, "Damn."

"Who arranged this forced march? Cap got some enemy in the SHIELD PR department?"

"No, worse, he's got a fan. Thinks Cap can do anything," Fury said wearily. "I'll talk to him," he promised. "It won't happen again."

"Better not. SHIELD's supposed to be on Cap's side!" Tony snapped and switched off his phone, wishing he'd used an old-fashioned landline so he could slam down the receiver. He immediately began planning a sound effect app that would do just that for the next version of the Starkphone.

Despite the late night (early morning?) Steve woke up at 7:30. He was still tired, but felt better after a shower. But when he stepped out of the shower, his clothes were gone — his filthy uniform, his civilian clothes and the sweats he'd worn to bed. In their place was a new blue shirt — the kind he'd heard called a polo shirt — and a pair of navy pants with many pockets, plus a package of underwear. It was all in his size. It was very thoughtful, but a little disturbing. He'd have been even more disturbed if he'd realized that the shirt was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes.

Despite the noise of the shower, the Super Soldier's hearing would have detected most intruders. He hoped the deliverer of clean clothes had been Clint and not Natasha.

Steve donned the gift hurriedly, because now he could smell pancakes, bacon and coffee. (Jarvis deliberately wafted the enticing scents through the ventilation system.)

Steve headed for the kitchen, but froze mid-step when he entered the Assembly Room.

All the Avengers stood there, along with Pepper and Jane Foster. A banner reading "Happy Birthday, Steve" had joined the patriotic décor.

Wearing a floppy chef's toque, Clint Barton held out a plate piled high with pancakes. The stack had birthday candles flaming on top.

"Surprise!" his friends shouted. "Happy birthday!"

"A day late, but the guest of honor didn't show yesterday," Tony said.

They hustled Steve to the table to blow out the candles and share out the pancakes before they got cold. After everyone was full — even Thor — Steve opened presents, mostly clothes, because his friends wanted to bring him up to style. Bruce gave him a Dictionary of Cultural Literacy. "So you can understand half of what Tony says."

"But it's a book," Tony complained. "How up-to-date could it be?" He gave Steve a Stark-tablet loaded with the top 100 movies of the last 100 years (as selected by Tony Stark, of course).

"And we have a real cake for you for later," Clint said. "So, what did you wish for?" he asked, nodding at the birthday candles.

"Yesterday, in the veteran's hospital I met someone I knew during the war. Sometimes I feel guilty about being alive when everyone I knew a year ago is dead; but Monty said they'd grieved that I died so young and he was happy I had a second chance. He told me the world was very different from when we were young, but there were still a lot of good people in it." Steve grinned at his friends. "And he was right."

Clint scratched his head. "Did that answer my question?" he asked Tony.

"I have food to eat and a roof over my head. I have an important job to do and friends to watch out for me. In that moment when I blew out the candles, I couldn't think of anything to wish for, Clint," Steve said. "So I just said, thank you.'"

A/N: So it is a thanksgiving story, after all. And thank you for reading (and reviewing?)

And don't forget to vote for Avengers in the People's Choice Awards. You can vote for the movie, the actors, the characters, even for Clintasha. It's darn hard to choose between Chris, Chris and Robert, however.