A/N: The 2011 NaNoWriMo forums, "Best of Your Worst Notes" thread defined "pulling a Hemmingway" as: 'Write drunk. Edit slightly less drunk.' If there is no other reason this story so far deserves the M rating, it's because I am almost-apologizing for writing this drunk on what I currently believe is a dare from my best friend. She's going to edit it sober. On the, uh, plus side, y'all get two chapters in a week!
Steve had almost forgotten that he had requested that Jarvis wake him at 6:15 every morning. His first thought was a half-formed wonder what on earth an alarm clock was doing going off. His second though was in regards to genuine wonder how he could have forgotten the alarm had gone off every morning at the exact same time, with the exact same sounds that jarred him from his slumber.
The last night's sleep had not even dared to resemble restful for him. It had not been filled with nightmares, as some night had since he had been brought out of the ice. Rather, it had been lacking what had been termed REM sleep since he'd gone under. He woke feeling even more exhausted than the night before, but somehow more motivated.
"Jarvis," he called out, "end the wake-up alarm!" Tony's AI complied, and Steve rubbed his eyes, stretching in a fashion that reminded him going back to bed was more appealing on an instinctual level than actually waking up.
Steve shook his head sharply, attempting to speed up the process of mentally waking up.
'Natasha and Bruce. I need to check on them.' he reminded himself, rising to his feet.
Sighing as he grabbed his day clothes, he continued to ready himself. 'My team,' he thought, 'My responsibility to ensure they don't shake apart with the absence of saving the world.' A part of him told him that he was taking on too much; that someone else could help him ensure the cohesiveness of the Avengers post-war, if he could figure who that 'someone' was.
His dismissed the thoughts as he opened the door to his quarters.
Breakfast and dinner had become the two times of day the Avengers could expect to spend together. No one had actually stated this. Rather, it had become routine as soon as Stark tower became the less-than-official home of the Avengers. Breakfast started at eight in the morning. Dinner started at six in the evening.
Over breakfast, Steve attempted to recall when that tradition had started. It may have bothered him that he could not recall the details had it been another set of circumstances. He reminded himself that the details of exactly how they had standing time together were not nearly as important as the fat they had time together.
'It's nearly impossible to imagine,' he mused while munching a piece of toast with strawberry jam and cream cheese, 'that the six of us are here, alive, eating together twice a day.'
He found himself about to go over why it was so near-impossible when Natasha cut through the silence.
"I've been given another mission by S.H.I.E.L.D. to start tomorrow morning," she said, her voice unreadable, but still not her normal conversational tone.
The rest of the Avengers barely had time to blink before they heard Clint bark, "Already?"
Natasha looked taken back. "It's been nearly three weeks, and the rest of the world has no shortage of things for spies to do," she said simply.
Clint opened his mouth to argue, but Tony spoke first. "Well be careful, then. The last thing any of us need right now – or, like, ever – is to hear you've been hurt. Or otherwise compromised."
Thor did not miss the guilt that flashed in the assassin's eyes for half of a moment. He deiced against speaking up, as he had accepted Steve needed to feel as though he was managed the emotional well-being of the Avengers and he felt that he had come close to over stepping his boundaries with cutting in on conversations the previous night with Clint.
"I will," Natasha nodded. She avoided looking at Clint, who couldn't stop looking at her. His breakfast abandoned, he spent the rest of the meal fighting the urge to walk out.
It was Bruce who broke the silence a second time.
"So, did they tell you where you'd be going?" he inquired, his tone as light as ever. Natasha flinched at the friendliness in his voice, an echo of something neither of them had wanted to live through, and yet neither of them were close to being able to forget.
"An information-gathering mission in central Europe," she replied, "It should take no more than a week, including travel time through civilian airports."
"Civilian?" Tony sputtered, "All the money they could dream of, and they're making you go through security and customs like every other Tom, Dick, and Harry who hasn't risked their lives for the freedom of this planet?"
Everyone fell silent. Tony had not realized how much his words stung everyone, judging by the incredulous look on his face.
"What?" he asked, "Someone could recognize her, and then what good would her secret identities do?"
Clint inhaled sharply. Thor's lips moved, as if their movement alone could formulate an answer to relieve everyone's worries. Steve scratched his head, barely conscious of the motion as he searched for an answer. Natasha remained silent and next to motionless. Once again, it was Bruce who broke the silence.
"If S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't capable of disguising its agents and protecting them, I would never have joined you guys to find Loki in the first place." Bruce's tone was softer than his observation. Tony failed to suppress a shudder. Natasha looked at him for a brief moment, her eyes conveying a thanks her worlds could not.
"Nat," Clint started before his words failed him. He remained silent for a few moments, before managing, "Don't prove to Bruce that he can be wrong, please?"
Natasha smiled a smile that nearly reached her eyes, "I won't, Clint. I promise." She looked around the table, taking everyone in. "All of you. I promise."
Breakfast had ended in silence. Thor could feel the pressure from everyone's unspoken emotions they believed to remain hidden from display as well. Thor offered to clean the dishes. Steve had attempted to help, but Thor insisted he could handle them. In Thor's polite, familiar words, his eyes flashed Steve a plea to go talk with Natasha.
Steve had followed Natasha down to the lobby in silence. The rest of the Avengers had gone about their own business. Natasha turned around to face Steve.
"Captain Rodgers, why are you-"
"Please, Steve is fine," Steve cut her off, holding up a hand. He had not planned any of what he would say to her, but he decided against taking any time to think about his words in favor of avoiding the risk of her walking off or dismissing him. "Why are you really taking the mission?"
'Well, that wasn't what I had thought I was going to ask,' Steve thought. The only indication his question had caught her off-guard was that her next blink was longer than a standard blink should have been.
"A spy goes where it is requested of her," Natasha responded, her expression returning to unreadable.
"That's a lie," Steve balked at her answer. A bit more bold than he would have preferred to be with a woman, had he been honest with himself. But now was not the time for chivalrous world and gentle intent. Rather, it was the time to ensure his team was safe, comfortable, and still a team.
"Steve, that's not your call to make," Natasha warned, her expression growing colder.
"That might work on people you work for, or people who work for you. But we're Avengers. We are a team. And if you – or anyone else – thinks to lie to me, I'm going to make sure everyone understands that's not going to fly."
Steve's words had come naturally. Almost too naturally. The words were simple. He bit back a laugh, recalling Thor's words from the previous night. The implications of his words were anything but simple. He hoped Natasha was not going to fight his conviction.
"I cannot remain idle while the fate of the Avengers remains a media circus," Natalie said quietly. Her tone had not been a whisper, but it had had a certain softness that almost made Steve regret how firm he had been.
'No,' he reminded himself, 'this is not the time for regrets. This is the time for honesty.'
"So you're leaving to be busy?" Steve asked her, forcing the same type of accusation he'd heard Clint use into his voice. It felt foreign, but not dishonest.
"Effectively," the assassin shrugged, "I'm going to the market, do you want anything?"
Steve sighed, figuring against pushing her any further, "Cinnamon sticks," he requested, "And for you to promise you'll come to me or Thor if you decide it's more than wanting to be busy."
Natasha paused for a moment before asking, "Any particular type of cinnamon sticks, and any time frame for such a request?"
Steve smiled a genuine smile, "The type that smell and taste good. And as much time as either of us have."
Steve ventured back to the kitchen. He had wanted to grab a water bottle, but stopped when he saw Bruce and Thor discussing something quietly over the last three dishes.
Thor turned towards the sound of Steve's footsteps. Steve didn't miss the concerned expression in the demigod's eyes, and quickened his pace.
"Steve..." Thor started, his voice seeming to strain to keep a quiet tone.
Bruce shook his head, "Tony's not handling himself as well as we'd hoped."
"What do you mean?" Steve demanded, looking at the last three dishes: a plate with syrup, an empty juice cup, and a mug about one-quarter full of Tony's grape Kool-Aid.
"He's adding hard liquor to his Kool-Aid," Bruce explained, holding out the mug. Steve sniffed it, his nose reflexively wrinkling at the sharp scent of hard liquor mingling with the artificial grape.
"Well..." Steve started, searching for words that wouldn't cause him – or the other two men -to panic, "before we assume Tony's heading off the deep end, let's first consider this is a man who offered Loki a drink. Can we really expect him to not add some liquor to his drinks, especially under stress?"
Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before answering, "Maybe regular hard liquor, but this is moonshine, Steve. One-seventy proof. Nothing that has a right to be legal, nonetheless in anyone's morning Kool-Aid."
Steve startled visibly, "How do you know?"
"Even since my...accident...my sense of smell has been sharper than I though a human's nose ever could be," Bruce said matter-of-factly.
"That's amazing! How come no one knows about this?" Steve blurted before he could stop his words.
"Well, it's not exactly something to advertise. I mean, if everyone knew how sharp my sense of smell was, they'd be even more on eggshells. Everyone's already so careful what they say to me and do around me. I've never really been in a hurry to add 'watch everyone check their arm pits' to the list of barely conscious behaviors that the knowledge of my "condition" elicits from people."
Thor laughed at Bruce's explanation. The other two men looked at him questioningly. Thor merely offered a shrug, followed by, "Can neither of you imagine a battle punctuated by such...crude, self-conscious behavior?"
Bruce and Steve both started laughing. Thor started laughing again. They laughed together for the first time since becoming part of the same team.
As their laughter dwindled, the reality of the left-over contents of Tony's mug came back to the foreground.
"How did you wind up doing dishes anyways, Bruce?" Steve asked.
"I could smell the moonshine during breakfast, but figured that wasn't even close to the time to bring it up. And since Thor had offered to do the dishes, I figured coming back after everyone else had left and mentioning it to him was the best idea." Bruce offered his explanation with a non-committal shrug, which Steve was beginning to figure was less for indifference and more Bruce's way of staying as emotionally involved in the world around him as he could manage.
"And I informed Bruce that Clint had been concerned about Tony's ability to handle being the public figurehead for the Avengers," Thor continued.
"You both did good," Steve assured them, both for their comfort and his own. "Now the trick will be figuring out exactly how much of a problem Tony's alcohol consumption is."
"What do you mean?" asked Thor.
"I mean...well..." Steve started, once again searching for words. He mentally cursed himself for not having easier, faster words before continuing. "I mean that we need to figure out how he's handling this, exactly. If he's upping his alcohol consumption because he can't deal with the pressure, or for another reason, or whatever else might be going on."
"We cannot simply speak to him?" Thor questioned, his tone one of genuine confusion.
"Sadly, no," Steve shook his head. Thor looked even more confused, so Steve offered, "Direct confrontation doesn't help most people. If anything, it makes whatever problems they're facing even harder to deal with. People want to think they can handle everything. If other people point out they can't handle something before they can admit that to themselves, they'll just go deeper into denial."
Thor nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor in remembrance of how his words had failed to restore Loki to the brother he and Asgard had loved once.
"Perhaps the human mind and the mind of the gods are not that different. Perhaps you humans are simply more aware of the complexities of the psyche," Thor murmured.
"Simple words," Steve offered. The words drew a soft, sad smile from Thor, who looked up at the other two.
"What shall we do?" Thor asked.
"We watch," said Bruce, "We watch very carefully, but don't intrude. And I'll let Clint know what we talked about in regards to Tony, if that's alright."
"That sounds fine, Bruce," Steve nodded. Each of the men took one of the remaining dishes and loaded it into the dishwasher. Steve found the unspoken unison of their actions reaffirming. As if maybe, just maybe, the team the world knew as the Avengers would survive this.
Natasha had left early the next morning, resulting in the first breakfast the full team had not been present for since Thor's return. Clint had made an off-hand comment about how, even though he understood her need to get back out on the field, it didn't feel right to have found out in such a fashion. Thor had made an effort to keep the mood light, suggesting they all do something together after dinner that night. Bruce had suggested a movie.
They had all agreed. Clint was allowed to pick the movie. He had suggested Confessions of an Shopaholic as a joke, and Tony and Bruce had agreed in unison. The joke was on Clint, and the movie night was set.
The movie night had been enjoyable. Clint had accepted he would never live his choice of movie down, and took everything in stride.
After the movie was over, Tony left first, followed closely by Clint. The two had been joking around, teasing each other so mercilessly that – had the two not been amicable – there would have been reason for concern.
Thor stood up, looking to Steve and Bruce. The other two men rose to their feet as well.
"That would have not been nearly as funny had Clint's suggestion gotten any amount of balking," Bruce quipped, stretching.
"Indeed," yawned Steve, following suit of Bruce's stretches, "Hey, Bruce?"
"Yeah, Steve?"
"If you need anything, let either me or Thor know?"
Bruce's smile rested somewhere between comfortable and welcome as he responded, "Of course. But for now, all I need is some sleep."
"Then go get some sleep, friend Bruce," Thor told him.
As the three said their good-nights, Bruce wandered off to his quarters, leaving Thor and Steve alone.
"We have a lot still to face," Steve noted, leaning against one of the walls, "I feel like the war was just the beginning of our trials as a team."
Thor nodded. "But do not fear, my friend. Trials are a part of survival, both as an individual and as a team."
Steve nodded in return, a grin that was both natural and alien twisting his mouth in to a weary, amused expression. "Can't really argue with that."
Thor laughed once, and put a hand on Steve's bicep, saying, "I do not understand why you would." Only Thor's smile gave any indication that he was teasing the soldier.
Steve laughed once as well. "Good night, Thor," he said as he turned to head out of the room.
"Good night, Steven," Thor responded, heading out with him.
The two parted ways at the elevators. Thor's quarters required him to go down a few levels while Steve's quarters required he go up a few levels.
Thor's elevator arrived first. As the demigod disappeared from view, Steve dismissed the notion that Thor had been the first person – no, being – to touch him like that since well before his plane went down. Just as quickly, he dismissed that thought and wished for sleep to be kinder to him that night.
Down in his lab, Tony had 'taken a break' from his latest project to have a "few" drinks. Jarvis had advised him to cut himself off, so he had muted the AI.
In his quarters, Clint asked the AI how Tony had been doing. Jarvis had told the archer all Tony had permitted to be broadcast.
Jarvis had started recounting Tony's behavior after the movie with an apology in regards to lack of sufficient information. Clint had requested that Jarvis stop before the AI was half-way done. He had heard more than enough for his own needs.
Clint made a silent vow to speak with Tony in the morning.
Bruce did not know he was the last one awake in the tower. As sleep found him, his last coherent though was a reminder to himself to talk to Clint about how they planned on monitoring Tony.
A/N: Oh, look! A longer one! I hope you liked it. And I hope my editor covered any blatant mistakes. :p
Editor's Note: I tried; really I did, but sleepy editor is...well...sleepy. I'll pass out virtual cookies to anyone who finds any mistakes. :D