It's a Thursday, one of the usually free times that the Avengers have their movie nights, but today, Steve Rogers isn't at Avengers Tower.
No, Steve Rogers is sitting in a booth in a downtown Mexican restaurant, a small, modest outlet, in a corner with a bunch of people who are not the Avengers, having dinner.
Of course, he didn't ditch his team -he's Captain America, the day that he does that is the day that Natasha sells them out to the Reds (which is never, obviously).
No, the reason Steve Rogers is not at Avengers Tower enjoying movie night is because there is no movie night today. Nat and Clint were summoned to S.H.I.E.L.D. by Fury, so they've scrapped movie night for the time being.
So Steve is out with his art classmates, the ones that don't know he's Cap.
They're discussing the task that was given to them just a week ago, which is due tomorrow, and they should all have finished their pieces by now.
Steve is particularly excited by this one, because the topic given had been 'Heroes'.
Of course, he'd drawn the Avengers, and even though he's not the only one to have the idea -well, it’s the Avengers. Who wouldn’t take the chance to draw superheroes for class?-, he’s the only one who draws them the way he does.
He’s with a few of the other art students, his friends, sitting in the restaurant and talking about their art pieces.
Sally’s done one of her family, her husband and son, her son’s friends, all heroes, she says, in their own rights. Steve doesn’t argue. Family’s anything you want them to be. Good friends are just as important. Will’s done one of him and his best friend, John, he says the guy’s a hero, saved him from himself. Steve can’t argue that either.
Drake’s done his schoolmates, the ones from the boarding school he just graduated from the past year. He says they changed him, for the better, and well, if that wasn’t a hero, he didn’t know what was.
Lauren’s drawing is the one that interests Steve the most, though. She’s done the Avengers as well, but she’s not giving any details about the drawing, although she’s extended an offer to show it -which she keeps in her portfolio, slung across her back- to them if she gets treated to dessert.
Steve’s drawing is of the Avengers, yes, but it’s not the typical ones that most of the class are probably going to draw. No, it’s not the Avengers, suited up, in the midst of battle, brave, courageous, staring death in the face and not flinching. It’s the Avengers as they are, when they’re relaxed, at ease, when they’re together in the Tower, when they’re just enjoying their free time as a team, as a family.
The team is lounging around the large TV screen that takes up almost an entire wall, the one that the team watches movies on on movie night, although Steve has purposefully drawn in some inaccuracies so that no one will be able to see that Steve has actually seen the Avengers on movie night before.
Thor is sitting, feet on the glass coffee table, on the couch with Mjolnir by his side, in a T-shirt and jeans, when in actuality Thor doesn’t sit so much as sprawl, body flung haphazardly on any surface that can take his weight, and beside him are Clint and Natasha, who are dressed in a baggy shirt and shorts and a tank and yoga pants respectively, Nat’s head in Clint’s lap and her nimble fingers playing with a dagger that is frozen in mid-spin between her palms. Clint is lounging lazily against the back of the couch, head flopping back and arms flung out. The two actually sit somewhat similarly to how Steve’s portrayed them, but they’re far closer, emotionally. Natasha doesn’t usually pull her knives out in the midst of movie night, and she’s usually curled up like a cat with Clint’s fingers tangled in her hair.
Tony and Bruce are draped across the carpet, reclining against the legs of their fellow Avengers, a bowl of popcorn in between Natasha and Thor that Bruce’s hand is buried in, Tony flopping against the convenient corner provided by Bruce’s side and the couch, gesturing wildly at the screen, features frozen in the middle of debunking some scientific flaw in the movie they’re watching. Realistically, Tony actually does interrupt their movies to debunk myths -frequently, in fact-, but he doesn’t so much flop against Bruce as squirm his way under whoever-is-sitting-beside-him’s arm, and Bruce doesn’t reach for the popcorn nearly as much as the drawing makes it seem, and more than often he’s simply slumped against the others with his index finger constantly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Steve himself is drawn struggling with a pile of snacks, face hidden behind the veritable mountain, bending to drop them on the couch next to Clint, who reaches up to help him, grinning at the ridiculous sight he makes. Steve makes himself recognisable as Captain America by shading in dark blue sweats with the American flag emblazoned across one leg, a tuft of blond hair sticking up from behind the pile. Steve doesn’t always help with the snacks, though. Sure, he’s supposedly the most decent guy on the team, the one that will help anyone and anything, but even Captain America gets lazy. Usually, he’s the one lounging on the couch while whoever’s feeling charitable that day will get up and lumber off to refill their snacks, sometimes even at Steve’s mock-command, while the rest ignore that the person needs help until he’s (or she’s) within arm’s length, and then the pile of food disappears in under a minute.
His drawing is actually with him, in the black portfolio bag that is sitting by his side. Actually, his shield is in it too -the bag’s a good way to conceal it-, but right now all his bag is is a way to contain his art.
The five of them finish off the remnants of their food and head off to the nearest ice cream shop, because admit it or not, Lauren’s a pretty good artist, second only to Steve in their little group, and they’re all waiting to see her take on the most popular art subject currently.
When they reach the store, they get a little corner booth and settle down while Steve and Sally go to place their orders. When the two get back, sundaes in hand, they catch Lauren running her fingers lovingly over her portfolio while Drake is clearly trying to get at Steve’s.
Steve panics, because his shield is in there, and if Drake opens the wrong compartment, there goes his identity. But Steve isn’t Captain America for nothing.
He pushes down the panic and puts down the sundaes with a slightly louder thud than necessary, before folding his arms across his chest and staring at Drake unamusedly.
Drake immediately pulls back, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck sheepishly and inching away from the black case.
Steve takes his seat between Drake and his case, curling a hand around it. “You know,” Steve starts. “If you want to see my drawing so bad you could just ask.”
Drake opens his mouth, but Steve cuts him off with a, “But Lauren first.”
One cue, Sally, Will, Drake and Steve all turn to Lauren, who sighs, hides a grin and starts unzipping her case.
When she pulls out her drawing, it is of the Avengers, yes, but it’s too false, too cartoonish, outlined too thickly in solid black marker for it to be accidental. The colours are garish, bright, contrasting. They’re overly saturated, eye-searing hues, their costumes gaudy and an eyesore.
The Iron Man armour is even brighter than it is in real life, a bright, burning scarlet and glimmering, flashing gold. The armour is in midair, repulsors flaring an over-bright cyan blue, like flames shooting from his palms and feet.
Hulk, behind Iron Man, is coloured a lurid, toxic green, muscles overly defined and false, lined in black, fists pounding his chest and roaring wildly to the sky.
Hawkeye is in bright, glaring purple spandex, instead of his S.H.I.E.L.D. issue black sleeveless vest, his bow clutched too tight in his hand, other palming his arrows, a maniacal smile on his face as he nocks an arrow and aims.
Natasha, back to back with Clint, has the most accurately rendered costume of them all, but her build is over-enunciated, wide hips and chest, a waist so narrow that it’s practically nonexistent. Her hair, whipping through the air, is almost as bright a red as the armour, the hourglass symbol at her belt even brighter. Her Widow’s Bite wristcuffs glow an electric blue, aimed at an off-page enemy, and her face is pulled into a blank, impassive canvas.
Thor is hovering behind Iron Man, Mjolnir a blur in his hand and a sparkling silver helmet adorned with oversized wings on his head. His armour gleams the same tacky, harsh silver as the helmet, his cape rendered in the same red as Tony’s suit. His blond hair is a violent yellow, almost nauseating, and lightning arcs across the sky behind him, his expression haughty and in the midst of yelling something.
Steve himself is planted right in front of the others, the obvious focus of the picture, and his uniform is a mix between royal and electric blue, a harsh, flashy, too-tight bodysuit with a glaring white star emblazoned across the chest, the shield in his hand gaudy and horrible, circled in all the garish colours that make up his uniform -the blue of his suit, the red of his gloves and boots, the white of the star and the wings on his cowl. The scale-mail across his shoulders is accentuated sharply by rigid, jet-black lines, and his face is set in a cheesy, false grin even as a speech bubble extending from his mouth yells “Avengers Assemble!”
Steve can’t help the bubble of annoyance, offense and anger that rises in his chest. It’s not so much the complete horror of the artwork than it is the fact that it was so clearly intended to turn out this way.
“Lauren,” Steve bites out. “What. Are. You. Trying. To. Do?”
The other three are staring at the drawing with a certain horror and awe, and Lauren is simply smiling as if it is her very best work ever.
“It’s accurate, don’t you think?” She says. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the Avengers as much as the next person-”
“Sure doesn’t look it.”
“As I was saying,” Lauren continues. “I like them as much as the next person, but don’t you think they’re kind of shallow? I mean, the team is kind of two-dimensional, don’t you think? They have little depth. They’re like a cartoon.”
Steve grits his teeth. “How do you mean?” Because try as he might, he can’t see any way the team might be seen as shallow at all.
“Well, you have the Hulk, who’s the simplest. He’s all ‘SMASH’ and ‘PUNCH’. Strong, yes, but not much else, is there? Then you have Hawkeye, who’s just away from the main fight and winning battles by choosing the right arrow. Nothing more. The Black Widow, she’s all stabbing and shooting and flaunting her looks to get what she wants. Shallow. Thor? Alien prince, royalty, obviously grew up privileged, doesn’t know hardship, and in battle he’s strong too, like the Hulk, but not much substance either. Captain America? He’s probably not even the original guy from the Forties; he’d be what, ninety now? No way. And that whole paragon of virtue, peak of human perfection thing? Captain America is all brute strength and shield tossing and good looks. Two-dimensional. And don’t even get me started on Tony Stark. That guy grew up privileged, doesn’t know suffering, grew up with a silver -heck, diamond-studded gold spoon in his mouth. Became an alcoholic at fourteen, open promiscuity at eighteen, probably started earlier, enjoys flaunting his wealth and tech, arrogant to a fault. Well, that screams superficial, doesn’t it?”
Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes against the sudden flush of anger that burns through his system, before opening them again. He can see how someone not acquainted with the Avengers could come to that conclusion, especially if they’ve been putting stock by the tabloids.
All the same, he frowns, eyebrows pulling together and lips pinching into a thin line.
Sally is frowning at the artwork as well, as is Drake, although not with the same degree of emotion as Steve is, while Will simply looks unconcerned.
“The Avengers risk their lives every day to protect the city, though,” Sally says, turning to Lauren.
Lauren nods. “Sure, and I’m grateful for that, but I just needed to get this idea across. The Avengers are, in fact, pretty insubstantial. They’re almost non-existent beneath their masks.”
But Steve’s never heard something more wrong.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, they’re all still people, right, they have to have a life outside being superheroes. I don’t think they’re shallow, though. They’re not two-dimensional at all. You’ve seen the newscasts, their backstories. The Hulk is actually this amazing scientist called Bruce Banner, really, the guy could’ve have invented Nuclear Physics, and three PhDs? It’s utterly brilliant, don’t you think? And Hawkeye, they say he had a brother, abandoned him. You have to know that sort of thing would destroy a man, and the fact that he’s still functioning, still helping the world even now, shows a lot. Black Widow, they say she’s Russian, used to be part of the KGB, an assassin for hire. That she broke out of that life and is working for America now, that’s strength. Thor, that alien prince? The news says that that whole incident that started the Avengers, that thing with the aliens and the portal and everything, the news stations say that it was orchestrated by his brother. That’s some screwed up family there, and yet the guy’s still protecting Earth, a planet he has no need to defend. And Tony Stark, he may have been completely screwed up when he was younger, but he’s changed. He’s not making weapons anymore, he’s helping defend this world. He could have just thrown money at the Avengers and supplied tech, and he’d be able to rest easy knowing that he’d helped the world. But no, what he did, building himself the Iron Man armour, going out on the frontlines, risking his life for the people everyday? That’s going above and beyond the call. He's a hero.”
Steve hesitates to defend himself, because it’s too similar to boasting, and Steve hates boasting. But he can’t defend all the rest and not defend himself -at best, they’ll think he hates Captain America. At worst, they’ll start piecing together who he is.
“And Captain America,” he forges on. “Isn’t just looks and strength. He has tactical planning too, and he’s the leader of the Avengers. I’m pretty sure the Avengers, strong and intelligent as they are, wouldn’t choose someone shallow as their leader.”
Sally's nodding, as is Drake, and even Will, usually apathetic, looks like he agrees.
Lauren frowns, conflicted. She's not the type to change her mind easily; she's almost as stubborn as Tony.
"But the Avengers-" she starts.
And that's when the wall blows out.
There's a moment in the chaos that Steve's StarkPhone screams "Avengers Assemble!", and luckily everyone's too busy panicking to hear it.
It's not so much that Steve minds the villains finding out who he is -there is basically no one in this century that can be used as leverage against him except for the other Avengers, and kidnapping an Avenger to use as leverage against another Avenger kind of defeats the purpose-, but he does appreciate his privacy and the fact that people can treat him normally when he's out of costume.
Sure, the news stations have footage of him with his cowl off, but there's not many who can say no to big blue eyes, 'oh, gosh darn it' and 'aw, shucks'. Basically, Steve Rogers has got the bloodsucking, vicious media of the 21st century wrapped around his little finger.
Steve jumps into Captain mode, ushering the patrons -thankfully few at this hour- and the shop staff out of the store, where they all stand, frozen just outside of the lines of fire.
Steve ducks behind a bush, hurriedly shucking his button-up and khakis, under which he's worn the suit.
He pulls the shield roughly from its compartment and shoves the black case under the bush along with his clothing.
He flips up the cowl and slides his arm through the leather straps of his iconic shield, slipping the commlink into his ear.
"Iron Man," he calls out through the comms. Tony is his second, after all. "ETA?"
"Less than five minutes out, Cap, you can begin without us. Just leave some for me."
Steve lets one corner of his mouth quirk up. "Roger that," he replies drily.
Then he rolls out into the open, facing the Doombots who can't seem to leave them well enough alone.
God, why can't Reed just handle his own villain?
"Hey!" He yells at the troop of green-cloaked bots that are marching systematically towards the civilians, and the entire group swivels around to face him, and he tosses the shield.
It ricochets off the first Doombots it hits, knocking the machine down, sparking as the shield slices through some pretty important circuitry, before the spangled vibranium sends another bot down for the count and bounces, burying itself edge-first in the android beside it.
Three Doombots with one throw. Not bad, Rogers.
He charges towards the remaining bots, ducking and weaving as their lasers and what Tony likes to call "DoomRays (that epicly fail 100% of the time)" fire at him, barely missing, as he makes for his shield.
He yanks the disc of vibranium out of the metal it's embedded in, spinning sharply and beheading the enemy that tried to sneak up on him.
His eyes dart from side to side, assessing the enemy. Huh. Four down, eight to go.
Well then, he did say he'd leave some for the rest.
The familiar whir of the Iron Man suit repulsors has him turning, smiling in relief. "About time you guys got here, Shellhead."
Behind Tony, the QuinJet lands, Thor beside the aircraft and Nat, Clint and Bruce file from jet, Hulk quickly appearing as Bruce relinquishes control.
A couple of repulsors and miniature missile later, two more bots are down, and lightning short-circuits another, as hammer and oversized green fists pulverise two more.
Natasha decapitates another with a violent stabbing and slashing move, the severed metal falling to the ground with a loud metallic clang, wires sparking.
An arrow embeds itself in one of the last remaining bots, blinking red at regular intervals before Clint's finger twitches on his bow and the entire Doombot blows up into shrapnel that has Steve pulling Natasha behind his shield and stooping to cover them both.
The pieces of Doombot land in smoldering piles around the Avengers, and Clint winces sheepishly while Steve stands, resecuring his shield on his arm as Natasha darts off.
That's when one of the idiots grabs hold of him by the fabric of his cowl, and he twists his body, slipping fluidly out of the bot's grip and bringing his shield swinging upwards, the impact sending the Doombot jerking backwards, it's circuitry sparking and malfunctioning, sending it marching in circles and crashing into objects at random.
It's the last of the bots, and a Hulk smash later the entire battle is wrapped up neatly, S.H I E.L.D. agents filing on scene to clean up the wreckage.
Tony turns to Steve, taps his helmet with one gauntleted hand and goes, "Got a bit of an ID crisis, Cap?"
Steve's eyebrows shoot up and his hand immediately flies up to his head.
His cowl isn't on.
"Shit," he curses softly under his breath, grabbing for the limp piece of blue material hanging from his costume collar.
But the damage is done.
"Steve?" Lauren's incredulous voice carries from the sidelines, and Steve tenses up, spine going ramrod straight and muscles pulling taut.
"You must be mistaken, ma'am," he begins. "I'm no-"
Will cuts in with a concise "There's no use lying, we saw the whole thing, Captain."
Steve sighs, shoulders slumping even as he pulls down his cowl. "You got me."
He meets Lauren's gaze, her eyes wide and shocked, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, her features more than a little apprehensive. Steve looks her in the eye, sky blue to steely green, and purses his lips ever so slightly.
"Shallow," Steve comments, one word and Lauren breaks.
"God, Steve," Lauren mumbles, biting at her lip. "I'm so goddamn sorry, I swear, I didn't mean that, please, God. God, Steve. I'm sorry."
Steve shakes his head, grinning self-deprecatingly. "I rather think you did, Lauren. Don't lie to me. I can see how you'd come to the conclusion, but I have one piece of advice for you: Don't trust the tabloids. Hell, don't even read them.”
Steve remembers the last tabloid article that he’d ever picked up, the one that made him simultaneously want to sob and scream at the same time. God, they’d actually tried to sell the idea that Tony’d cheated on Pepper and that they’d broken up, and that Tony had subsequently kicked Pepper out of the Tower. Tony, who loved Pepper unconditionally, who’d never give up Pepper for anything, who loved her as much, if not more, than he loved science. Pepper, who was one of the very first people that Tony had ever really had by his side.
Lauren opens her mouth to say something, before she abruptly snaps her jaw shut and ducks her head.
Steve sighs, smiles wanly and shakes his head gently.
"It's not that I blame you, Lauren. I can see how the tabloids can lead people astray. It's just that I'd thought you of all people wouldn't put much stock by them," Steve comments softly. "But you're still my friend, Laur, even after everything."
"I'm not a hero," he adds as an afterthought. "And I'm not just shield tossing. Either way, I'm just a kid from Brooklyn."
He turns and walks off.