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He hadn't appreciated the shield nearly enough, and now he's given it up.
He gets pushed from the sixth floor and falls to the ground, underneath the path of a van. There’s no shield to break his fall and to bounce off the front of the van. Instead there’s a crunch of bone and a sharp pain he hasn’t felt in years.
‘STEVE,’ he hears Sam yell, both from up where he’s fallen and over the comms.
‘Yeah, fine, fuck,’ he mutters, staggering to his feet. The van’s front has crumpled. As he pushes himself up against it, he leaves another sizeable dent.
‘Language, Rogers,’ says Natasha from wherever she is, because she thinks she’s funny. The guy driving the van has stumbled out and is gibbering. He’s got his phone out.
‘Don’t-’ begins Steve, but in and amongst the guy’s breathless nonsense he hears the word “superhero”. ‘We need to get out of here,’ he tells the others.
His ribs are cracked, he thinks. He’s felt this before. Last time his ribcage was smaller and he’d just lost a fight in an parking lot. Bucky had got him out of that fight, but Bucky’s in Wakanda. He can already hear sirens in the distance. His ankle’s painful too, and he half-runs, half-falls into the cover of an alley.
Sam appears, brows furrowed and eyes worried. Steve feels himself let out a breath. He’ll be safe now. He slings an arm around Sam’s shoulder as they begin to hobble further away. ‘Nat? Wanda?’
‘Getting the car, and finishing off those guys,’ says Sam. ‘Shit, man, you OK?’
‘Flesh wound,’ says Steve, with a dismissive shrug that hurts like hell. ‘Did anyone find anything?’
‘Nah, looks like the intel was a bust.’
‘It was well-guarded for nothing.’
‘Maybe just a trap.’
‘Maybe,’ admits Steve.
‘This was a lot easier when the good guys weren’t also trying to get us.’
Steve grins roughly. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’
Sam snorts, but he doesn’t complain. Steve momentarily tightens his grip on Sam’s shoulder and wishes he had more to offer for siding with him.
The car draws up beside them. It’s twenty years old with four gears and a top speed of about eighty, but it’s a boring black and the owner took cash. Natasha, cool as anything, leans out of the window. ‘You boys looking for a taxi?’ Her hair, now dark brown, no longer makes Steve double-take. His own - dyed a lighter brown than hers but darker than he’s used to - still does, but he hasn’t been looking in a lot of mirrors lately.
‘Get in,’ says Sam, helping him. Steve grimaces as he contorts himself into the back seat of the car.
‘Wanda?’
‘I will be with you shortly,’ comes Wanda’s precise voice over the comms. ‘Just making sure our friends don’t remember our faces.’
Natasha nods and turns around to look over into the back where Steve and Sam now sit. Her eyes are still flitting out the windows, but she still focuses on Steve. ‘Damage report?’ she asks.
‘Probably broken ribs,’ admits Steve. ‘I think the rest is just bruising or sprains.’
‘Head?’
‘Fine,’ he says.
‘Come here,’ says Sam. Steve allows Sam to lean up and inspect his head for bruises and blood. He then checks out Steve’s eyes. ‘Do you know where you are?’ Steve rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t be an ass, Cap, apparently you can break.’
‘London, England, chasing apparently useless Hydra intel despite having about five hundred international arrest warrants out for us because we’re just that stupid,’ says Steve.
Sam pats him - gently - on the shoulder. ‘Got it in one. We should still get you to hospital but…’ He shrugs. ‘I don’t know any discrete British doctors.’
‘Me neither,’ says Steve. They glance at Natasha.
She considers carefully. ‘Not exactly, but-’
She’s interrupted by Wanda, running up and throwing herself into the car. ‘Drive! The policemen are arriving!’
Natasha practically throws the car into gear. It would be more dramatic, Steve feels, if the vehicle had better acceleration. Instead they gradually ramp up to the thirty-mile-an-hour speed limit.
The route is circuitous. It always is when Natasha’s driving. Even in the good old days she’d double back when getting a Starbucks order. Steve’s not sure where she’s going now, but she doesn’t seem to need his input, so he takes the couple of Motrin that Wanda offers him, puts his cap over his eyes, and shuts them with a determined air. He doesn’t want to keep seeing the worried looks in the eyes of the others that haven’t quite faded. He’ll be fine. He always is. They’ll just have to hole him up somewhere peaceful for a bit. Natasha’s probably got about eight hundred safe houses in Britain alone.
They’re leaving London (he can see it through the sides of his cap) when Steve’s eyelids start to droop for real. Injured though he is, he’s been running around for three days straight. He manages to fall into a doze. He’s slept through pain worse than this before, after all.
It’s not until they hit a few speed bumps in the road that he wakes. The jolts go straight through him, feeling like several stabs to the ribs.
‘Natasha! You trying to kill me?’ He rubs his ribcage experimentally and winces. She doesn’t even look apologetic.
Steve scrubs his hair and rubs his eyes and looks around out of the car windows. That’s when he realises where they are. Oxford, he thinks. The outskirts of, anyway. But it’s not the town specifically that Steve recognises: it’s the street.
‘Nat,’ he says, ‘you sure about this? With the Accords… do you know…?’
‘No,’ says Natasha. ‘But you need help.’
He sees both Sam and Wanda sit up straighter and attempts to do the same without thinking, but that only sends another stab of pain through him.
The car draws up outside the gate and Natasha leans out to hit the buzzer. Steve glances through the bars onto the gravelled drive, shielded all around by a high fence of trees and bushes. At the end of the drive he can see the house. He’s only been here a couple of times, when it was first being built, and although it looks like it’s made of wood and stone and glass, he’s pretty sure it could withstand a nuke. He’s not yet seen the inside of the finished version though. New York was always much more convenient to meet.
The intercom buzzes into life. ‘Who is it?’
‘This is Natasha Romanoff. Rogers is hurt. Will you help us?’
There’s a pause. ‘Who’s with you?’
‘Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff.’
Another pause. Steve fidgets. Then the gates start to swing open. Natasha drives through and instantly they start to close again.
‘I don’t like this,’ says Steve. ‘If they want to arrest us then it’s not going to be easy to get out of here.’ He glances over his shoulder again and thinks he can see a golden shimmer out of the corner of his eye. ‘I don’t know that we can beat this security.’
‘Relax,’ says Nat. ‘We’re going to be fine.’
‘Where are we?’ asks Sam.
‘We’re safe,’ says Natasha. ‘I’m about ninety percent confident of that.’
‘Oh, great, really?’ says Sam, rolling his eyes. She grins and shrugs.
It’s not the house’s owner who greets them at the door, but despite his worry, Steve finds himself smiling anyway.
‘Yo yo,’ says Darcy Lewis. ‘Did you says Steve Rogers is hurt? Shit, man, what got you? I didn’t even know you felt pain. Want me to avenge you?’
‘Another time, maybe,’ says Steve as he levers himself out of the car. ‘Is…?’ he gestures to the building behind.
‘Jane is in and working. Of course. I asked her if she wanted to break the law and offer shelter to a bunch of criminals and she was totally cool with it as long as you don’t knock over her stuff. And Thor’s not in, although he is on Earth. He’ll be sad he missed you. He’s always sad to miss his bros.’
Steve lets out a breath. He would like to see Thor again, but they haven’t spoken in a very long time. After everything that’s happened, he doesn’t really know how things will work. If Thor has decided to sign the Accords, they’re gonna have to get out of here very quickly.
‘One more thing before we go in: is that car stolen? If so I need to hide it from surveillance. We have some awesome science fiction security here so I can totally do that.’
‘It’s bought,’ says Natasha. ‘Sorry to disappoint. Stolen cars attract attention.’
Darcy shrugs. ‘Oh well,’ she says. ‘Come in. Let’s get you some alien painkillers.’
Sam takes Steve’s arm again as they follow her. Steve doesn’t really need it any more, but he accepts it with a rough smile all the same.
It’s not a small house. Despite this, the entrance hall somehow manages to look cosy, while at the same time having high, wooden beamed ceilings and a sweeping staircase. There’s also a large stone setting for an open fire. Through the hall, behind the stairs it looks as though the house itself is completely open to the elements - he can see grass and trees and plants and no sign of any walls or doors. Steve remembers Thor in the tower grumbling about obsolete glass windows not allowing any air flow when Tony could use a perfectly good shield to protect from the elements. He guesses this is that.
Darcy doesn’t spare the room a glance: she goes to the right, and Steve and Sam limp after her, followed by the others.
The large room they walk into is nothing like the entrance hall. It’s white and clean. There are telescopes and computers and all manner of instruments that don’t mean anything to Steve. Whiteboards take up an entire wall, and there are several smaller boards on wheels covered with scribbling. At one end is a small living area, with squishy couches, blankets, a fridge, a sink and a countertop with a coffee machine. Above the sink is a poster that reads ‘NO SCIENCE, JANE’. There’s a second sink and counter away from the living space in the lab area. That has a sign that reads ‘NO FOOD, JANE’. Steve’s lip twitches.
‘Oh, Steve, what happened?’ Jane Foster appears out from behind a set of computer screens that tower over her. Her eyes are softer than when she’s absorbed in physics and he tries not to grimace. He doesn’t need people worrying over him this much.
‘Nothing too dramatic,’ he says. ‘Not by my standards. Probably cracked ribs. Lots of bruises.’
‘Huh,’ says Jane, tilting her head to the side as she inspects him. ‘Should we get you x-rayed? Just to check there’s nothing else the matter.’
‘Do you… have an x-ray machine?’ he asks. He tries to sound as though that’s a normal question. He’s never sure with Jane.
‘No, but I’ve got a bunch of gamma ray devices. X-rays are just gamma rays that have been stretched out a little. I’m pretty sure I could make one. Give me ten minutes.’
‘Uh,’ says Steve again, glancing at Nat. ‘Aren’t gamma rays what made Bruce… Hulk?’
‘Uh huh,’ says Jane, now digging around for pieces of equipment. ‘Don’t worry about that. I won’t be doing anything nearly so energetic.’ She grins and looks up, and takes in the others. ‘Oh hi, Nat, Sam, good to see you. And er, oh-’ Her eyes widen when she recognises Wanda. They’ve not met to Steve’s knowledge, but Wanda’s face is hardly unknown. Steve sees Wanda tense slightly. ‘Aren’t you… Wanda Maximoff? You can do magic, can’t you?’ Jane beams and Wanda hesitates before nodding. ‘I’ve seen you lift things and contain things on TV and Thor says you can do mind magic. Can you show me? Wait, no, not yet, I have to get some instruments. Your magic glows red, he says. Can I see that? Aesir magic doesn’t tend to display itself on the visible spectrum although there are other signs that can be detected. How do you control it? What does it feel like? Can you detect other people using magic? Like, does Thor look different to you to the others? Or-?’
Natasha clears her throat. ‘Maybe we can shoot dangerous rays at Steve before we do a magic demonstration?’ she says. Wanda looks at Steve. Her face clearly says “what just happened?” and Steve shrugs.
‘Oh, right, sorry,’ says Jane, tucking her hair behind her ears and ducking her gaze. ‘Darcy, can you give me a hand with these?’
Steve watches warily as Jane constructs her machine. It really doesn’t take very long. He’s a little bit concerned, but Thor’s told him (more than once) about the time Jane created a device to save the universe in about half an hour. She’s pretty much his most-trusted mad scientist. She’s never nearly destroyed the planet, after all, which puts her a step up from a decent chunk of the other mad scientists he’s known.
In the end Jane manages to obtain a bunch of images that look like typical x-rays. She emails them to Helen Cho, who identifies his broken ribs and everything else as just bruised. Then, after taking some more x-rays, Helen and Jane do some complicated math and come up with a healing rate.
‘You need a couple of days of rest at least,’ says Jane sternly. ‘Helen says if you get in a fight they might heal unevenly and won’t be as strong again. She says ice packs and painkillers and gentle walking is the best way to treat it.’
Steve grimaces, but he hasn’t turned into a Hulk from Jane’s machine, so he guesses he should just accept it.
‘Two days is nothing,’ says Nat. ‘Stop pouting.’
‘Life is hard when you’re a big, tough superhero,’ mutters Sam. Steve pulls a face at them both and Darcy laughs.
‘We’ve got some pain killers from Asgard,’ says Jane. ‘I take a tenth of a dose when I’m hungover and want to die and it works great. You could probably take a full dose. You drink their liquor, right?’
Steve nods and Jane pulls a bottle from a cupboard. She pours half a glass of water from the “NO SCIENCE” sink, then stirs in two spoonfuls of a greenish-blue powder. She hands the mixture to Steve and it glitters a little in the light. He considers it with a slightly wrinkled nose before downing it. It tastes like syrup, and near straightaway Steve feels a warmth cocoon him. The pain in his ribs and other bruises begins to recede.
‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘That’s- wow, that’s good.’
‘I know, right!’ says Jane. ‘Alien stuff is great.’
‘Anyway,’ says Darcy, ‘no offense but you all need to shower, like, so bad. Have you got a change of clothes?’
‘Not in the car,’ admits Natasha. ‘Our current accommodation is back in London.’
‘Is it a sewer?’ demands Darcy and begins shuffling them out of the lab and up the stairs. ‘Please tell me it’s not a sewer.’
Natasha laughs. ‘It’s a warehouse,’ she admits. ‘It was only meant to be a few days.’
‘Nice,’ says Darcy wrinkling her nose. ‘I’ve been to a few of those. Doing science, mostly. Although I try not to stay long enough to start to stink. Anyways, Nat, Wanda, you better help yourselves to some clothes and stuff in my room because Jane is too tiny for any normal human being. There’s an en suite in there and another bathroom here.’ She reaches into a cupboard in the hallway and pulls out a massive batch of towels, throwing one each at them. ‘Just help yourself to my deodorant. I’ll find some spare toothbrushes somewhere.’ She turns to Steve and Sam. ‘You guys, you get Thor’s stuff, obviously, and you can use the shower in their room. There’s enough human stuff around so you should be fine. Although he uses incredibly expensive shampoo and conditioner and fancy cologne, so you will come out of this smelling like male models. More than usual, I mean. But all his clothes - literally, all of them - are tailored so they might fit a bit weird. I didn’t even realise you could take jeans to be tailored, but it turns out you can.’
Sam laughs. ‘Man, I picked up the wrong superhero,’ he says.
‘Definitely,’ agrees Darcy. ‘No offense,’ she adds to Steve, then turns back to Sam. ‘I keep trying to get Thor to find me an alien prince for myself but he’s totally useless.’
Thor and Jane’s bedroom is big. Like, stupid big. Every time Steve thinks he’s used to the excess of some of his friends, he’s reminded that he’s really not. He thinks the bed itself might be bigger than his first apartment. There’s another fireplace laid, plus bookcases and a low couch in a little nook with a low ceiling. On one wall there’s a couple of prints from the Hubble telescope. On another there’s a couple of throwing axes. Half of one side of the room has no wall, instead opening onto a long, wooden balcony running the entire width of the house. The garden it overlooks is large and well-tended, with a domed structure towards the back that Steve guesses is a telescope.
There are personal photos too - young Jane in graduation robes with an older man and woman who must be her parents. Jane, Thor, Darcy and Erik in the desert somewhere. Thor in an old shot of the Avengers… his arms around Steve and Rhodes, beaming. Sam beside Steve looking like he can’t quite believe where he is. Tony and Pepper on the other side of Rhodey. Bruce looking like he doesn’t want to be there, pinned between Nat and Clint. Steve’s lip twitches upward a little. Simpler times.
There’s no sign of a closet or anywhere that clothes might be until they walk through the far door and find themselves not in a bathroom but in a dressing room. That itself has walls lined with closets and two dressing tables. Jane’s has two physics books, some mascara and a hairbrush left out. Thor’s has a much larger collection of bottles and products, some of which is easily identifiable - including what Steve knows to be concealing face powder in a glass-topped case - and some of which is a complete mystery.
‘Man,’ says Sam, peering through the cosmetics, ‘there I was thinking it was all natural.’
Steve snickers and tries not to twitch as his ribs send a sharp spike of pain through him. ‘One time he lent me some and gave me a tutorial to hide some bruises for a press conference,’ he admits. ‘Gotta be honest: Asgardian make-up applies way easier than Tony’s stuff and stays on longer.’
‘Well you look a bit like you could use some now,’ says Sam. ‘Bit of a black eye coming up there, nice and purple, even underneath all the dirt. Can you shower by yourself, or do you need a sponge bath?’
‘You offering?’
‘I was going to get Darcy. She’d be up for it.’
Steve snorts. ‘I’ll be all right,’ he says. ‘Find me some clothes, would you?’
The bathroom is also huge. By this point Steve can’t even find it in him to roll his eyes again. The tub looks like it could comfortably fit five people. He ignores that on the basis that he doesn’t want to die of old age waiting for it to fill, and uses the separate shower cubicle. This also has enough room for several people, plus multiple shower jets and, he discovers, a lot of sprinkler patterns.
In the mirror, he spies himself, bloody, bruised and dusty. Unreal brown hair sprouts from his head, with bits of plaster coating parts of it in grey. He doesn’t look right, surrounded by an enormous, pristine bathroom. He fits better into this new life he’s carved for himself: warehouses and squats and running away. The luxury Tony gave him in the Tower and then in the Avengers compound was never really him, and the house that Thor described as a “modest dwelling” during the building phase definitely isn’t.
Showered, he finds Sam, who’s dumped a couple of outfits on one of the couches.
‘Looking better,’ says Sam with a nod and half a smile. ‘You need an ice pack for at least some of those bruises though.’
‘Enjoy the bathroom,’ says Steve.
Sam steps through the door and laughs. ‘Holy shit, does this house ever stop?’
‘Not so far.’
‘I am definitely having a bath.’
‘I’m not waiting for you,’ says Steve.
Sam shrugs. ‘Whatever dude, this is amazing.’
He does end up waiting for Sam. Primarily because he needs some help putting a shirt on. It should be embarrassing but it’s Sam so he just laughs and goes with it. They’re both in button-down shirts - Steve’s purple and Sam’s red - and pants of a quality that Steve would only wear if he were getting married or going to one of Tony’s dos. They inspect themselves and each other in turn and have to suppress a giggling fit for the sake of Steve’s ribs.
‘Man, these really do not fit right,’ says Sam. ‘Although yours are verging on fine. Of course. There’s a vest to go with those pants if you want it.’
‘Of course there is,’ says Steve, rolling his eyes. ‘We’re not going to a wedding, Sam. Could you not find any workout gear? Sweatpants would be comfier.’
‘I could… but it’s all leather,’ says Sam. He grins. ‘Want to try that instead? Bet you could pull it off.’
‘Only if you try it too,’ says Steve.
Downstairs, they find Darcy waiting in the entrance hall, playing on her cellphone. She ushers them not into the lab, but into the other half of the downstairs, which is much more homey. They end up in a large kitchen with a deck that opens out into the gardens. It’s warm, and a pleasant breeze plays across Steve’s face. He’s not surprised that, despite the fact that half of the downstairs is a lab and Jane has a separate telescope in the back yard, this room still has plenty of books, papers, computers and equipment. It even has a regular sized telescope set up, and a wheeled whiteboard covered in scribbled equations pushed against one of the walls. Steve smiles slightly, remembering how Thor’s rooms at the tower and any public areas always ended up much the same.
Natasha and Wanda are already there, sitting on a couple of wicker couches half in the kitchen, half on the deck. They’ve large mugs of coffee and Jane is sitting next to Wanda delightedly interrogating her about magic. Wanda is twisting her hair in her hands and looks cautious, but not too nervous, so Steve doesn’t intervene. Instead he accepts a mug of coffee from Darcy with a thanks, and continues to glance around the room.
‘Oh,’ he utters a moment later, when he sees a painting on top of the fireplace. The noise is quiet, but Darcy, Sam and Nat follow his gaze.
‘Yeah,’ says Darcy. ‘It’s weird. You get used to it.’
Steve and Sam approach the painting. The artist is technically very skilled, both at creating a likeness and capturing an expression. He doesn’t need telling that the blonde boy - nine or ten by Steve’s estimation, with his chin jutting out slightly and a slight smile that contains both a hint of pride and of complacency - is Thor. The eyes are spot-on, and so, too, is the smile. Of the identity of other two older figures in the portrait, he can guess easily enough. Thor’s father and mother stand behind: the King stern and the Queen proud and loving (although she wears armour and a sword and the painter somehow made it very clear she should not be crossed). Beside Thor is, of course, Loki. Slender, pale, and dressed in black and green. He’s familiar and not. His face is pointed and his eyes inscrutable, but he seems to smile with his brother and they’re presented as a unit.
‘Yikes,’ murmurs Sam.
‘Right?’ says Darcy. ‘Nothing brightens up breakfast more than a proto-supervillain watching you over your Coco Pops.’
A muffled sound behind them alerts Steve to Jane approaching.
‘Darcy,’ she says, voice quietly disapproving.
‘Don’t even try to pretend you’re 100% on board with a portrait of Loki in your house.’
‘Of course I’m not, I just- he’s family, you know. He’s Thor’s brother. And he died saving both our lives. Of course it’s complicated. Besides, this is Thor’s house as much as it is mine. If he wants a picture of his brother up, he can have one.’ She glances up at the picture with slightly pursed lips. ‘Besides, Thor spends more time in the kitchen than I ever will.’
Steve snickers. Jane rolls her eyes and makes to elbow him in the ribs before suddenly reining herself in. ‘Jerk,’ she grumbles. ‘You still feeling all right?’
‘Yeah, thanks,’ says Steve, now with a genuine smile. ‘Those drugs are doing wonders, mostly. And thanks for… for putting us up.’
Jane shrugs. ‘Least I could do,’ she says. ‘Those assholes in the UN need get their priorities right. If you need somewhere to lie low while you heal, you can stay for a few days.’
Steve hears a slight exhale from Sam that he thinks must be relief. He himself smiles at Jane. She’s frowning a little now, apparently annoyed on his behalf and he feels the load on his shoulders lighten somewhat.
‘Thanks, Janey,’ he says. She wrinkles her nose at the nickname, like she always does, but he knows that’s out of habit rather than actual dislike. ‘We- I- We weren’t sure…?’ He trails off slightly, wishing he hadn’t started the sentence.
‘Who I’d side with?’ finishes Jane, raising an eyebrow. ‘After all the damage SHIELD have done and that time they, you know, turned out to be filled with Nazis, why the hell would I trust anyone like that?’ She folds her arms. ‘I know you, and I know Sam and Tony and Nat and everyone. I know you guys are trying to help people. It might go wrong sometimes, but I know you don’t have weird, secret hidden spy motives.’ She sniffs.
‘Well, thanks for letting us stay,’ he says. Jane might consider the risk irrelevant, but he still feels like he’s asking a lot.
‘Any time,’ she says. ‘This place is too big and quiet even with Darcy living here most of the time.’
‘Yeah, it doesn’t exactly seem like a three person house,’ says Sam. ‘I think I’m gonna get lost.’
Jane laughs. ‘It’s not too complicated to figure out,’ she promises. ‘But this is actually a compromise for me and Thor.’
‘A compromise?’ says Steve drily.
‘You should see where he grew up,’ says Jane. ‘It’s huge. Like, unreally huge. This place is, like, a tenth the size of just his own private rooms in the palace.’
Steve finds his brain isn’t currently up to the task of trying to imagine what Thor is used to. ‘Where is he, anyway?’ he asks. ‘You seen him recently? I’ve not since, well, since that mess with Ultron.’
Jane’s eyes widen slightly. ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘I thought you knew.’
Steve glances at Sam, who shrugs.
‘Thor’s in Geneva,’ says Jane. She hesitates. ‘He’ll be there all week. I think he’s going to sign the Accords.’
Steve feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. ‘Oh,’ he says.
It’s not a betrayal, he reminds himself. It wasn’t a betrayal when Tony and Natasha and Rhodey and the others did so, and it isn’t now. It’s just a choice. But he can’t forget what that choice led to, can’t forget the splits in the team that had always marched as one. Equally, he can’t forget the hidden prison and the lengths he had to go to to get Sam and the others out of there. The Accords hadn’t brought peace and that hadn’t been justice.
Jane gives a grimace. ‘I know,’ she says, although she doesn’t - she can’t. ‘He came back to Earth shortly after it had all died down - said everything had gone quiet on this Infinity Stone thing. And then he saw what had happened and got in touch with various people in the government and off he went. Ugh.’
Darcy pats her arm. ‘Boyfriends are always a disappointment in the end,’ she said.
‘Maybe we should get out of here,’ says Sam. ‘If Thor comes back, even if he doesn’t want to haul us in, we’ll be putting him in a difficult position.’
Jane waves a hand. ‘He said he’d be a week at least,’ she says. ‘You’ve got four days.’
Steve turns to Natasha and Wanda. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think… you could use the rest,’ says Natasha. ‘If you get in a fight like this, chances are you’ll lose.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ says Steve with a wry grin. She’s probably right. And he hasn’t had coffee this good or regular bathing in too long to count. He decides not to point out if he gets in a fight with Thor like this he’ll definitely lose. To be fair, that’s probably true on a day when his ribs aren’t cracked.
‘I think we should stay,’ says Wanda, who’s completely unworried by Thor’s abilities. Jane, never particularly opaque, beams at her. Steve hopes Wanda is ready for a few days of being followed by an excitable puppy, because that’s exactly what Jane is like when she wants to get her head around something.
‘OK, fine,’ mutters Sam. ‘But only because I want to use your tub.’
Jane’s already moving back towards Wanda as she makes a vague assenting noise.
Darcy sighs. ‘I’m gonna go find some take-out menus,’ she says. ‘Superheroes eat shitloads.’
~*~
They order pizza and Darcy digs out beer and Asgardian liquor, which is mixed to varying strengths. Steve’s not sure he should be mixing his painkillers with it, but Darcy and Jane point out Thor does it all the time.
It’s comfortable, to sit once more among friends with nobody looking over their shoulder (except Nat, of course). He’s missed just hanging out. His life has never had a lot of downtime, but life with the Avengers allowed him to get used to having the occasional quiet evening with friends. The air begins to cool slightly as the sun sets, but instead of migrating inside or amending the shields around the building, Jane drags out a metal fire pit shaped like the Death Star from Star Wars and Steve catches Nat’s eye and they grin.
Jane and Wanda continue to talk as the evening goes on. Wanda’s only had a couple of beers (and a sniff of the Asgardian stuff) but she does seem to relax a little under Jane’s entirely innocent questioning. Steve has been on the receiving end of an interrogation from Jane (primarily about forties technology) and knows from experience it’s hard not to be flattered in the face of that much sincere interest. Thor has a very similar way of listening when he wants to, but he doesn’t scribble equations in a notebook as he goes.
Steve and Sam sit together and trade stories with Darcy. Hers involve less terrorists than theirs, and less running, but plenty of dubious lab projects. She also knows how Stark and Rhodey and the others are doing and relays unconcerned updates. It sounds like Jane’s bickered with them about her feelings on the Accords and Steve tries not to grimace. It’s nice to have another ally, but he feels awkwardly responsible for Jane arguing with both Thor and Tony. Darcy reassures them it’s not serious, which is something.
Eventually he falls asleep on the couch. He doesn’t mean to, because Jane’s mentioned spare rooms once or twice, but it’s comfy and warm and someone’s thrown a blanket over him and Sam.
~*~
He wakes because something shifts in the night.
He squints through eyes mostly shut but all he can see is the embers of the fire pit and the pitch black of the garden beyond. He can’t shake the feeling that something has woken him up, though. He’s too well trained to ignore his instincts. All he can hear is the quiet breathing of the others. His head has lolled onto Sam’s shoulder in his slumber, which impedes his view somewhat, and he can’t think of a way to convincingly move while still feigning sleep.
A shadow falls between him and the dying glow of the Death Star.
‘Steve,’ says a very familiar voice, lowered in the silence of the night. ‘You have woken. My apologies.’
‘Thor,’ he says. He can’t quite suppress the groan he lets out when he moves. The painkillers he’s taken have evidently worn off.
‘You are hurt.’ Thor kneels down in front of him and steadies him.
‘Yeah, a bit,’ he says. Something of his caution must come across in his voice because Thor immediately moves away and stands back up. Eyes adjusting, Steve takes a moment to survey the group: Sam, supporting him, is starting to murmur in the way he does that means he’s waking. There’s no sign of Darcy or Nat. They must have gone up to a real bed. Jane and Wanda are curled up together on the other couch, similarly entwined to him and Sam. Thor follows his gaze and his lips twitch.
Ignoring Steve, he moves to Jane, resting one hand on her cheek and running the other through her hair. She seems to start to wake and Steve turns back to Sam, who by this point has opened his eyes and frowned confusedly at Steve. Steve nods in Thor, Jane, and Wanda’s direction and Sam follows his gaze. His eyes widen. Steve can feel him tense. He hopes it won’t come to anything, but Thor is here now, and he doesn’t know what’ll happen.
Thor eventually separates from Jane, picks up a small bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates from the table beside the couch. ‘From Geneva,’ he says, presenting them to her.
Jane smiles and pulls away from Wanda and the blanket to stand, cup his face with her hands, and kiss him again. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I missed you.’ Behind her, Steve can see Wanda wake up. Unlike Sam, she’s quick to consciousness, and she instantly appraises the situation. Like Sam, she tenses. Steve wonders if Thor can feel her magic ready to fight, like Jane was asking earlier.
‘And I you,’ Thor says.
Jane leans back, although she leaves her hands on his face. ‘Does you back early mean you’re now owned by the government?’ she asks. Sam coughs to conceal a laugh. Steve almost laughs himself, but the answer to the question seems too fundamental.
‘My love, I was born the eldest son of the king and remain, despite my wishes, crown prince of Asgard. There has never been a time in my life when I have not been owned by a government.’
Jane huffs. ‘Well maybe if Asgard tried democracy or something different to a monarchy then-’
Thor mock-gasps. ‘You wound me, Jane Foster. One day I’ll make you Queen of Asgard.’
Steve blinks. He feels like he’s waiting to be arrested but he’s not sure if he’s watching a fight or a flirtation. Probably both.
‘If you make me Queen of Asgard you bet your ass I’m installing a democracy,’ she replies.’And a Starbucks.’ From the look on both their faces, it’s an old in-joke.
‘Asgard has fought many evils, Jane, but none would inspire such terror as the prospect of an electoral college. Anything else I would give you gladly, but there are some lines I cannot cross.’ He looks very serious. Jane snorts and leans up to kiss his chin and he grins down at her, apparently having forgotten there’s anyone else in the room. Which is typical Thor in every respect. On a normal day, Sam might have thrown a pillow and told them to get a room, or Steve might have felt vaguely obliged to try and speak up in the name of democracy. It is, however, not a normal day.
Sam, next to Steve, is clearly considering the exits. Steve isn’t sure it’s worth it. He knows from discussions with Thor that the shielding on the house to protect the openness from the weather is mild compared to the forcefield around the entire property, and the additional shielding around the grounds. If Thor doesn’t want them to leave, they won’t be able to leave.
Slowly, he levers himself to his feet. Better to have this out now. And this is his fight. But then, of course, Sam stands too, beside him as ever. Wanda joins them on her feet behind Thor and Jane.
Thor releases Jane and turns to Steve. For a moment they stand nose to nose in silence. Thor is the one to speak.
‘Steve,’ he begins, face grave. ‘I was in Geneva to discuss the Accords and to sign them.’
‘So Jane said.’
‘I hope you understand,’ continues Thor, ‘that the choice was a necessary one. I am not merely a man. I am a prince, and I represent my people. To reject the decisions of Midgard’s governments is to court war between our realms, and I would not have that at any cost.’
Steve nods stiffly. It’s fair. He can’t argue. But he wishes it didn’t have to be like this.
Before either says anything further, Jane steps in between them, facing Thor. ‘You two had better not be about to fight. You cannot possibly believe that Steve should be arrested. He’s your friend! You’re not fighting him!’ She turns. ‘And Steve you will literally be crushed. Don’t you dare injure yourself further on this stupid argument. And I swear to god if the lot of you so much as smudge the ink on one of my papers in your stupid fight I will not rest until I hunt you down and send you to the opposite side of the universe!’
She looks like she means it. Steve takes a slight step back.
Thor’s eyes have widened slightly. Then he beams and takes both of Jane’s hands and kisses them. ‘I love you,’ he says warmly.
‘Yes, well, I still don’t want you to-’
‘-and I will not be fighting Steve or the rest of my friends,’ continues Thor.
Steve lets out a breath. He’s pretty sure Wanda could win. She has done before, after all, although Thor’s prepared against that now. But most of all he doesn’t want to fight Thor. He didn’t want to fight Tony, or Rhodey, or any of them. Then it happened, and it hasn’t solved much of anything.
‘Oh,’ says Jane. She shuffles on her feet and pushes her hair behind her ears. ‘Well… good.’
Steve glances awkwardly at Sam, as they hover in silence pretending like they weren’t gearing up for a fight. ‘We should go,’ he says at last. ‘I- I understand why you did it. But if we’re here then we’re asking you to break it.’
Thor grins. There’s something in his smile that’s all-too-knowing and Steve raises an eyebrow.
‘What?’
‘I said I went to Geneva to discuss and sign the Accords,’ says Thor.
‘And?’ demands Sam.
‘I did not say I had already signed them.’ Now he’s grinning openly.
‘Wait, what?’ says Jane, frowning slightly. One of her hands is still in his. He winks at her.
‘You’re such an asshole,’ says Steve, because it’s true. He doesn’t know exactly what’s happening but he’s pretty sure Thor has been leading them up the garden path.
Thor doesn’t even look remotely abashed. ‘I had every intention of signing the document were it suitable,’ he says. ‘As I said, I have no wish for a war or even a diplomatic falling out. My actions speak for all of Asgard, after all. But that is precisely why I could not sign. I cannot be at the beck and call of Midgard’s rulers and I certainly cannot sign that on behalf of my people. The agreement was drafted with humans in mind, not Aesir, and not royalty.’
‘Does that mean- you’re not in trouble, are you?’ asks Jane, leaning in closer to him.
‘Why would I be?’ says Thor, still ever cheerful. ‘I summoned a small delegation of lawyers and diplomats from Asgard. I am certain that a jointly drafted agreement will be acceptable.’ He gives a shrug, and that oh-so-clever look is back in his eyes. ‘Although I am not nearly so certain your lawmakers will be pleased to learn that a typical Asgardian treaty takes fifty years to be agreed.’
Steve lets out a sudden laugh. It sends a stabbing pain through his ribs although he really doesn’t care.
‘Are you kidding me?’ says Jane. ‘All that blah-blah-blah-must-sign-treaty and you’ve just bought yourself half a century?’
Thor looks even more pleased with himself, and suddenly he pulls Steve into a huge hug. He’s warm and steady as ever and Steve feels a little part of himself uncurl and relax slightly. They’re still here. They’re still, unaccountably, safe.
At the edge of his peripheral vision there’s a movement and he and Thor separate. Natasha strolls into view, holstering a gun.
‘Where have you been?’ Steve asks.
She shrugs. ‘If things got dirty, I was going to tranq Thor.’
Thor lets out a bark of a laugh and claps her on the shoulder. Her knees buckle. ‘Excellent plan,’ he says. Jane, still beside him, is frowning, and Thor takes her hand again. ‘Although I have hope my beloved would have avenged me. Do you have enough tranquilizer?’
Nat hands him a dart, which he inspects. ‘There’s enough in there to take down ten elephants, and I’ve got twelve of them,’ she says. ‘So, maybe.’
Thor grins and returns the dart. ‘Let us hope we never have cause to find out,’ he says. ‘Now, to bed, unless you would all prefer to remain down here?’ He scoops Jane into his arms and kisses her again, because of course he does. Jane lets out a bit of a squeak. Natasha and Sam rolls their eyes. Steve tries not to. Wanda wrinkles her nose slightly.
‘What, we all invited?’ says Steve.
‘Their bed is big enough for all of us,’ points out Sam.
‘In your dreams,’ says Jane, as Thor huffs out a laugh.
There are plenty of spare rooms, of course, and they’re all perfectly ready to receive guests with no notice, because Thor is Thor. Steve and Sam take one of the bigger ones. At this point they’re both a bit too used to looking over their shoulder to sleep alone. It’s roomy and perfectly decorated, like a damn show home. It does, fortunately, have actual windows. Steve is pretty confident in Thor’s Asgardian forcefields, but it’s a lot more comforting to sleep in a place with a solid surface between him and the outside.
Thor appears shortly, already out of half of his armour. ‘I have brought some pyjamas,’ he says. ‘And more medicine for you, Steve, since I imagine your dose will have worn off.’
‘Thanks,’ says Steve. ‘Look, I er… this isn’t going to get you in trouble, is it?’
Thor shrugs. ‘I do not wish to cause strife and disregard Midgard’s laws, but I do not believe they will arrest me.’ He grins. ‘I should almost like to see what happens if they try.’
Sam snorts and rolls his eyes. ‘Oh yeah, you don’t want to cause any strife,’ he says. ‘Calm and peaceful, that’s you.’
Thor smirks.
‘Thanks,’ though,’ says Steve again, suddenly. ‘I… everything’s been complicated. I didn’t mean for this to be a fight between any of us.’
‘This will pass,’ says Thor comfortably. ‘Arguments do. Governments change their minds. Eventually things will be calm.’ Then his gaze darkens. ‘However there will, I believe, soon come a time when Midgard once more needs all its heroes. You will be there?’
Steve gives a half-smile. ‘Looking forward to it already,’ he says.
Thor nods.
‘Although after earlier, I’m slightly worried it’s gonna be when Jane Foster unleashes her inner-super-villain and starts sending people who piss her off to the other end of the universe,’ adds Steve.
Laughing, Thor heads out of the room. ‘Then I suggest, my friends, you do not disturb her work.’
‘Man,’ says Sam, after he’s gone. ‘I hope you guys are joking because I’m starting to feel she totally could.’
Steve snorts. ‘Jane’s too busy doing science to become a supervillain,’ he says. ‘C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.’
Sam picks up the PJs Thor has brought. They both look at them in silence and then Sam sighs. ‘Are you kidding me?’ he says. ‘Is he kidding me? Does he really have silk pyjamas? Is that really a thing he has?’
Steve pokes them. ‘There’s a good chance he’s messing with us,’ he says.
‘You know what, whatever, I’m going to live like a prince for a couple of nights,’ says Sam, picking up one pair. ‘Far cry from that stinky warehouse, huh? Regular meals, real bed, nobody trying to kill us. I am definitely going to wear silk pyjamas.’
Lip twitching, Steve picks up the other pair. ‘Well, when you put it like that…’ he says.
An hour later, they’re both lying on the floor instead of the bed.
‘Like sleeping on a damn marshmallow,’ mutters Sam. ‘And I feel like one of us should be on watch. This is why we can’t have nice things.’
Beside him in the darkness, Steve gives a wry grin. ‘I’ll take first watch,’ he says. ‘Wake you up in a couple of hours.’
‘On it, Cap,’ says Sam, and in moments he’s asleep.
Steve grins to himself and settles down to keep watch in probably the safest house on the planet. He’s pretty sure this says something about him and Sam, but right now he’s not going to think too hard about it. He’s just going to enjoy the pointless silk pyjamas and look forward to using Thor’s ridiculous bathtub.