Chapter 3
The dawn light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Avengers Tower kitchen, painting everything in a warm golden glow. Steve stood at the stove, his movements deft and practiced as he flipped pancakes with one hand while stirring a pot of oatmeal with the other. The soft sizzle and sweet aroma filled the air, creating a bubble of domestic tranquility that felt almost surreal after everything they had been through.
Bucky leaned against the counter beside him, metal arm gleaming in the morning light as he sliced fresh fruit with meticulous precision. His eyes, softer than they had been in decades, kept drifting to Steve’s profile – the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the gentle curve of his smile when a pancake turned out perfectly golden.
“You know,” Bucky murmured, voice still rough with sleep, “I could get used to this.”
Steve glanced over, his smile deepening. “What, me making all the food while you just stand there looking pretty?”
“That too,” Bucky replied with a lazy grin, setting down his knife to step closer. “But I meant this. Us. Peaceful mornings without someone trying to kill us.”
Steve turned, abandoning his cooking for a moment to face Bucky fully. His hand, warm from the stove’s heat, came up to cup Bucky’s cheek, thumb brushing over the stubble there. “Yeah,” he whispered, “me too, Buck.”
The space between them disappeared, their lips meeting in a soft, unhurried kiss that tasted of coffee and possibility. Steve’s hand slid to the nape of Bucky’s neck, fingers threading through dark hair as Bucky’s arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Jesus Christ, it’s seven in the morning! Some of us haven’t had coffee yet!”
They broke apart to find Tony standing in the doorway, hand dramatically covering his eyes while peeking through his fingers. The moment shattered like glass, but the warmth lingered, evident in the flush on Steve’s cheeks and the unrepentant smirk on Bucky’s face.
“Morning, Stark,” Bucky drawled, not bothering to put any distance between himself and Steve. “Jealous?”
“Of your prehistoric romance? Hard pass,” Tony retorted, making a beeline for the coffee machine. “Though I will say, Cap, your pancakes are burning.”
Steve whirled back to the stove with a curse, rescuing the slightly charred pancakes while Bucky chuckled behind him.
As if Tony’s arrival had broken some invisible dam, the kitchen began filling with people. Bruce and Thor entered next, deep in animated discussion.
“But the theoretical implications of interdimensional travel through the quantum realm clearly suggest—” Bruce was saying, gesturing with both hands.
“Theory matters little when the Bifrost has been connecting realms for millennia,” Thor interrupted, his booming voice filling the space. “My father—”
“Your father was a megalomaniacal old man with a dubious moral compass,” came Loki’s silky voice as he materialized behind them, somehow looking immaculate despite the early hour. “Though I do agree the Bifrost operates on principles your primitive science hasn’t yet grasped.”
Bruce’s eyes lit up with the challenge. “Primitive? I’ve calculated the energy requirements for the Einstein-Rosen bridge and—”
Thor’s laugh rumbled like distant thunder as he clapped a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, the touch lingering longer than necessary. “I adore your persistence, Bruce. Perhaps later I could show you how Mjölnir harnesses similar energies?”
“You adore everything about him,” Loki muttered, rolling his eyes as he slipped past them to steal a piece of Bucky’s carefully arranged fruit.
The atmosphere shifted again as the Guardians stumbled in as a chaotic unit. Peter blinked at the domestic scene before him, mouth hanging slightly open.
“What is this, some kind of weird Earth morning ritual?” he asked, watching as Thor plucked a mug from the highest shelf for Bruce, their fingers brushing in the exchange.
“I am Groot,” said Groot without looking up from his handheld game. Child, or teenager or adult Groot, nothing really changed. He would always choose the video games above everything else.
“No, it’s not cute, it’s freaking bizarre,” Rocket translated loosely, climbing onto a stool. “Where’s the booze in this place?”
“It’s morning,” Gamora pointed out, looking almost as uncomfortable with the domesticity as Quill.
“I know what time it is,” Rocket snapped. “The question stands.”
Drax, meanwhile, had zeroed in on the pancakes. “These flat circles – are they weapons or sustenance?”
“Both, in the wrong hands,” Clint answered as he entered with his children in tow, Laura and Natasha following close behind. “Hey, no shoving,” he added as Cooper and Lila raced for the best seats.
Natasha surveyed the scene – Steve and Bucky moving in perfect sync at the stove, Bruce and Thor still deep in conversation with clear tension between them, Loki looking bored but watchful, the Guardians bringing their particular brand of chaos. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile.
“Cozy,” she commented to no one in particular, sliding into a seat beside Wanda, who had appeared silently and was watching everything with wide, curious eyes.
The relative order dissolved completely when Morgan, still in pajamas adorned with Iron Man helmets, came tearing into the kitchen with Peter hot on her heels.
“Petey says I can’t be Spider-Man when I grow up!” she announced indignantly.
“That’s not—I just said there can only be one Spider-Man,” Peter clarified, looking desperately to Tony for help. “And technically, I’m Spider-Man, not Spider-Man-Man, so—”
“You can be whatever you want, sweetheart,” Tony assured his daughter, throwing Peter a look that clearly said ‘pick your battles.’
In the commotion, someone – later, no one would admit to it – accidentally activated the tower’s sound system. Suddenly, Florence + The Machine’s Dog Days Are Over filled the space, the driving beat and soaring vocals catching everyone off guard.
Morgan’s face lit up. “Dancing music!” she declared, immediately bouncing to the rhythm.
Nathaniel, not to be outdone, joined in, his little legs moving in what could generously be called dancing. Lila and Cooper exchanged looks before shrugging and joining their brother, their movements more coordinated but equally enthusiastic.
“I am Groot!” Groot exclaimed, setting down his game for the first time that morning. He extended his branches, creating fantastic shapes as he moved to the beat.
Peter, never one to miss a chance to be the fun guy, began an elaborate routine that combined actual dance moves with exaggerated spider poses. “Come on, Wanda!” he called out, extending a hand to the young woman who had been quietly observing.
Wanda hesitated only briefly before joining, red energy swirling around her fingers as she moved with surprising grace. The music seemed to awaken something in her – a lightness, a freedom that had been buried under trauma and loss. Her laughter, rare and beautiful, cut through the chaos.
Clint watched the impromptu dance party with a mixture of amusement and paternal concern. “Careful with the furniture,” he called out as Cooper attempted a slide across the polished floor. “And nobody better break anything, including themselves.”
Natasha nudged him with her shoulder. “Look at you, Dad of the Year.”
“Someone has to be the adult here,” he retorted, even as he moved to steady Nathaniel who was spinning perilously close to the edge of the counter.
“You need one too,” she replied, then smoothly caught a mug that Rocket had accidentally knocked over, setting it upright without spilling a drop. When everyone looked at her, she simply raised an eyebrow. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
Meanwhile, Tony was becoming increasingly overwhelmed. The music was too loud, there were too many people, and the chaos level had exceeded even his considerable tolerance.
When Drax made a particularly colorful observation about Terran mating rituals after witnessing Thor helping Bruce reach for something on a high shelf, Tony practically lunged across the room.
“Not in front of the—” he began, hands outstretched to cover innocent ears. In his haste, however, he miscalculated, finding himself placing his hands over Wanda’s ears instead of Morgan’s.
“What are you doing?” Wanda asked, bewildered, her dancing coming to an abrupt halt.
Tony blinked, realizing his mistake. “I—you—” For once, the billionaire was at a loss for words.
A slow, mischievous smile spread across Wanda’s face. “Worried about corrupting me, Dad?” she teased, emphasizing the last word.
Tony’s expression shifted through several emotions before settling on horrified amusement. “Don’t—that’s not—I’m not old enough to be your father!”
He yanked his hands back like he’d been burned then took several deep breaths before smoke came out of his ears. “Sorry, wrong kid. My bad. You’re not the one I’m trying to shield from Drax’s… vivid imagination.”
“Whatever you say, Dad,” Wanda replied, clearly enjoying his discomfort. She patted his cheek before twirling away, leaving Tony sputtering in her wake.
“Hey!” Drax bellowed from across the room, his voice cutting through the music like a battle cry. “My imagination is not the problem! It is your fragile Terran sensibilities that cannot handle the truth of the universe!”
“Oh, for the love of—” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting every life choice that led him to this moment.
“She called you ‘Dad’!” Peter exclaimed, delighted by this development. “Does that make her my sister? Wait, am I older or is she older? I can never keep track with the whole Snap thing—”
“No one is anyone’s anything!” Tony declared, though his protest lacked conviction. “And for the love of god, someone turn down that music!”
“FRIDAY,” Steve called out, “volume at fifty percent, please.”
The AI complied, lowering the music to a more manageable level, though the dancing continued unabated. Steve returned to his cooking, Bucky laughing at his side, their shoulders touching, comfortable in the eye of the hurricane they called family.
Meanwhile, Thor, oblivious to the tension, was still holding Bruce up by the waist, helping him reach for a bag of chips on the top shelf. “You know, my love,” Thor said cheerfully, his voice dripping with affection, “if you simply turned into the ‘other guy,’ you could reach this yourself.”
Bruce, dangling awkwardly but with a faint blush creeping up his neck, sighed. “Yeah, but then I’d also destroy the kitchen, and I’m trying to avoid that. Can you just—? Oh, never mind, I’ll get it.” He stretched his fingers, finally snagging the bag, only for it to slip from his grasp and land directly on Peter’s head.
“Ow!” Peter yelped, rubbing his forehead. “Mr. Stark, why does everything in this house either explode or fall on me?”
“Because you’re the designated disaster magnet, kid,” Tony replied without missing a beat. “It’s in your job description. Right under ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.’”
“I don’t remember signing up for this!” Peter protested, dodging as Rocket scampered past him, clutching what looked like one of Tony’s repulsor gauntlets.
Thor, still holding Bruce, leaned in and whispered, “You know, if you did transform, I’d still find you utterly captivating.”
“Hey! Give that back, you trash panda!” Tony shouted, lunging after Rocket.
Bruce groaned, though the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “Thor, not now. We’re in the middle of a crisis.”
“Trash panda?!” Rocket screeched, his fur bristling. “I’ll show you a trash panda!” He fired the gauntlet, sending a blast that narrowly missed Tony and hit the stereo instead. The music screeched to a halt, replaced by the sound of static.
“Great,” Rhodey said dryly, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine. “Now we have no music, and I’m pretty sure Drax is about to start a fight with the toaster.”
“Every moment with you is a crisis,” Thor replied, grinning broadly. “A beautiful, chaotic crisis.”
Bruce rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the fondness in his expression. “You’re impossible.”
Sure enough, Drax was now glaring at the toaster, which had somehow ended up on the floor. “This machine mocks me with its shiny surface! I will defeat it in single combat!”
“Drax, no!” Gamora shouted, but it was too late. Drax had already grabbed a butter knife and was charging at the toaster, roaring like a man possessed.
“And yet, you adore me,” Thor said, pressing a quick kiss to Bruce’s temple before finally setting him down.
“Get a room, you two,” Tony muttered, though there was no real heat behind it. “Preferably one far away from the toaster and the raccoon with my tech.”
Across the room, Natasha watched it all unfold with quiet satisfaction. She caught Clint’s eye and knew he was thinking the same thing – after everything they had lost, after the battles and the sacrifices, this chaotic, beautiful mess was what they had fought for. This was victory: pancakes burning on the stove, children dancing with aliens, superheroes bickering over coffee and quantum physics. A raccoon destroying the stereo. Gods falling in love with mutants. Just another Tuesday.
“Nice family you’ve got, Romanoff,” Scott observed, appearing beside her with a plate of stolen pancakes.
“They’re idiots,” Natasha replied, affection clear in her voice. “But they’re our idiots. And you’re part of this family too, Ant Man.”
As if to prove her point, Thor chose that moment to demonstrate to Bruce how Asgardians danced, spinning him around with a dramatic flourish. “Behold, the Dance of the Eternal Stars!” Thor declared, his voice booming over the chaos. Unfortunately, Mjölnir got a little too enthusiastic in his hand, and with a loud crash, the living room light fixture was reduced to glittering shards.
“Thor!” Bruce yelped, his face turning an interesting shade of pink as he tried to extricate himself from Thor’s grip. “I told you this was a bad idea!”
“Nonsense, my love!” Thor replied, completely unfazed. “A little destruction is a small price to pay for the joy of dancing with you!”
Loki, who had been lurking in the corner with a plate of cookies, began slow-clapping. “Bravo, brother. Truly, your grace knows no bounds. Perhaps next time you can demolish the entire house. I hear Stark has a spare.”
Tony, who had been trying to prevent Morgan from teaching Rocket a new dance move that looked suspiciously like operating heavy artillery, whipped around at the sound of breaking glass. “What now?!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “Is it too much to ask for one day without property damage?!”
Morgan, completely unfazed by the chaos, tugged on Tony’s sleeve. “Daddy, Rocket says he wants to learn the ‘Cha-Cha Boom.’ Can I show him?”
“No, no, no!” Tony said, scooping her up before she could demonstrate. “No Cha-Cha Boom, no explosions, no—Rocket, put that down! That’s not a toy!”
Rocket, who had somehow gotten his hands on another small, glowing device from Tony’s workshop, grinned mischievously. “Relax, Stark. It’s not like I’m gonna blow up the place. Probably.”
“Probably?!” Tony repeated, his voice rising an octave. “Give me that before you turn my house into a crater!”
As Tony lunged for the device, Scott leaned back against the counter, taking a bite of his pancakes. “You know, for a bunch of superheroes, they’re really bad at this whole ‘calm and collected’ thing.”
Natasha smirked, sipping her wine. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, you’d miss this chaos if it were gone.”
As Tony lunged for the device, Peter decided this was the perfect moment to crank up his Zune, blasting Come and Get Your Love at full volume. “Alright, Guardians! Let’s show these Earthlings how we party!” he shouted, grabbing Gamora’s hand and spinning her into an impromptu dance-off.
Gamora, though initially reluctant, quickly got into it, flipping Quill over her shoulder with a smirk. “You call that dancing?” she teased.
“Hey! I’m a great dancer!” Quill protested, scrambling to his feet.
Drax, now fully invested in his battle with the toaster, roared, “I shall defeat this mechanical beast and claim victory for the glory of the Guardians!” He swung his butter knife like a sword, narrowly missing Groot, who had been innocently watering a potted plant.
“I am Groot,” Groot said, looking mildly annoyed as he dodged Drax’s wild swings.
Meanwhile, Bucky was standing by Steve, watching the chaos unfold. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was laughing—really laughing. His shoulders shook, and he clutched his stomach as tears streamed down his face. “I can’t—I can’t breathe!” he managed between gasps. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen!”
Steve, who had been trying to mediate between Thor and Tony, glanced over at Bucky and couldn’t help but smile. “Good to see you laughing, Buck,” he said, though his words were drowned out by the sound of Rocket firing Tony’s repulsor gauntlet at a vase, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
“Rocket!” Tony screamed, now holding Morgan in one arm and waving the other wildly. “I swear, I’m gonna turn you into a fur coat!”
“You’d have to catch me first, genius!” Rocket cackled, scampering up the curtains like a deranged squirrel.
Just as the chaos reached its peak, the front door swung open, and Nick Fury stepped inside. He took one look at the scene: Thor and Bruce dancing amidst the wreckage of the light fixture, Drax dueling the toaster, Rocket swinging from the chandelier, Bucky laughing hysterically, and Tony chasing Rocket with Morgan perched on his hip like a tiny drill sergeant.
Fury’s eye twitched. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked right back out the door, slamming it shut behind him.
Scott considered this for a moment, watching as Steve tried to mediate between Thor and Tony while Drax attempted to rebuild the toaster into what he called a “worthy opponent.” “Yeah,” he admitted with a grin. “I guess I would.”
“See?” Natasha said, raising her glass. “Family.”
Scott clinked his fork against her glass. “Family.”
The morning sun climbed higher, bathing the chaotic scene in golden light. For all its inhabitants, regardless of planet of origin or trauma endured, Avengers Tower had become something none of them had expected – not a headquarters or a safehouse, but a home. And if home was messy, unpredictable, and occasionally involved superheroes arguing over whose turn it was to make coffee, well… that was okay too.
—-
The kitchen door swung open again, this time with enough force to send it banging against the wall. Sam strode in with the confidence of a man who knew exactly how to disrupt a peaceful moment, his eyes immediately zeroing in on Steve and Bucky at the stove.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled, his voice carrying over the music. “If it isn’t America’s favorite geriatric lovebirds, playing house.”
Steve’s shoulders stiffened minutely before relaxing. Without turning, he said, “Good morning to you too, Sam.”
Bucky merely raised an eyebrow, metal arm gleaming as he continued slicing fruit. “Jealous, Wilson?”
“Of what?” Sam retorted, snagging a piece of mango from Bucky’s carefully arranged platter. “Your arthritis or your early bird special discounts?”
“Both,” Bucky shot back, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “Plus the fact that I’ve got the better-looking boyfriend.”
Sam clutched his chest in mock offense. “Now that’s just hurtful. I’m a catch, Barnes. A goddamn catch.”
Sam’s attention shifted as he caught sight of Thor and Bruce by the coffee machine, their heads bent close together as Thor explained something with expansive gestures, his hand occasionally brushing Bruce’s arm with way too much enthusiasm for 8 a.m. on a Tuesday. Bruce, for his part, looked like he was trying to decide whether to engage or bolt for the nearest exit.
A wolfish grin spread across Sam’s face as he abandoned Steve and Bucky mid-argument about whether hot dogs were sandwiches (they were not, and Sam was tired of pretending otherwise). He made a beeline for the new targets of his good-natured harassment, already mentally drafting his opening salvo.
“Don’t you two look cozy,” he observed, wedging himself between them with the subtlety of a wrecking ball. “What’s the topic this morning? The physics of hammer-lifting, or are we discussing more… personal experiments?” He waggled his eyebrows for emphasis.
Bruce’s ears turned a telling shade of pink, while Thor merely laughed, clapping Sam on the shoulder with enough force to make his knees buckle slightly. “Wilson! Join us! Banner was explaining the fascinating concept of quantum entanglement – particles that remain connected regardless of distance.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Sam asked innocently, leaning against the counter like he owned it. “Because I’ve got a few other theories about what’s entangling you two.”
Bruce adjusted his glasses, a gesture that did nothing to hide his flustered expression. “It’s actually a fundamental aspect of quantum mechanics that—”
“That perfectly describes your situation?” Sam interrupted, grinning like a shark. “Connected regardless of distance? One big, buff, blond particle—” he gestured to Thor, “—and one brilliant, bashful, brainy particle—” he nodded at Bruce, “—forever linked by mysterious forces? Sounds like the plot of a rom-com. Or a fanfic. Actually, I’m pretty sure it is a fanfic. I’ve seen the forums.”
Thor’s expression shifted from confusion to delighted understanding. “Ah! A metaphor for our bond! That’s quite clever, Wilson. Though I would argue our connection transcends mere quantum phenomena and enters the realm of cosmic destiny.”
Bruce looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “Can we not—” he started, but Sam was already rolling.
“Cosmic destiny, huh?” Sam echoed, clearly enjoying himself. “Is that Asgardian for—”
“For a connection that burns with the intensity of a dying star yet nurtures with the gentleness of springtime rains,” Thor interrupted solemnly, his eyes fixed on Bruce with an intensity that made even Sam pause in his teasing. Bruce, meanwhile, looked like he was seriously considering faking his own death.
The sincerity in Thor’s voice created a moment of unexpected vulnerability that hung in the air between the three of them. Sam’s expression softened for a fraction of a second before he cleared his throat.
“Well damn, Point Break, when you put it like that…” he trailed off, then rallied. “But seriously, when’s the wedding? And can I officiate? I’ve got a license from the internet. It’s legit. Probably. I mean, I paid $19.99 for it, so it’s gotta be, right?”
Bruce groaned, but there was a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. Thor’s booming laugh drew attention from across the room, his hand finding Bruce’s shoulder and staying there like it had claimed squatter’s rights.
“You are a strange and delightful mortal, Wilson,” Thor declared, shaking his head. “But I would be honored to have you officiate. Banner, what say you?”
Bruce opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I say I need more coffee. And possibly a new life.”
Sam clapped him on the back. “Too late, big guy. You’re stuck with us. And cosmic destiny. And probably a wedding playlist featuring way too much ABBA.”
As Thor launched into an enthusiastic explanation of Asgardian wedding traditions (which apparently involved a lot of mead, fire, and ceremonial goat sacrifices), Sam leaned over to Bruce and whispered, “You’re welcome.”
Bruce sighed, but the smile was still there. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Sam shot back, grinning. “You love me. Just like you love tall, blond, and hammer-y over here.”
Bruce didn’t even bother denying it. He just reached for the coffee pot, muttering something about needing a stronger brew to survive this conversation. Sam, for his part, was already mentally drafting his best man speech.
Across the kitchen, Vision floated in, his entrance so fluid that few noticed him until he was already among them. His synthetic eyes took in the scene with fascination, particularly focusing on Wanda as she danced with Peter and the children. Without a word, he raised a hand, and a small holographic projection appeared from his palm – a camera interface. He began recording the impromptu dance party, his expression one of devoted attention.
Wanda caught his gaze, and her smile deepened, her movements becoming more graceful, more uninhibited, as if performing just for him. The red energy around her fingers intensified, creating delicate patterns that followed her movements like ethereal ribbons.
“Vision,” Clint called out, noticing the recording, “you’ll send copies of that, right? Laura’s gonna want evidence of the kids having fun here.”
Vision nodded, never taking his eyes from Wanda. “Of course. I am capturing multiple angles simultaneously to ensure optimal documentation of this… spontaneous expression of joy.”
“That’s a fancy way of saying you’re making heart-eyes at Wanda,” Cooper observed with the brutal honesty of a preteen, causing Lila to dissolve into giggles.
If Vision could blush, he would have. Instead, a subtle shift in the density of the vibranium at his face created the impression of embarrassment. “I am merely appreciating the aesthetics of—”
“Uh-huh,” Clint interrupted, not unkindly. “Just make sure I get those videos. And maybe edit out Rocket teaching Morgan how to hotwire a spaceship using dance moves.”
Tony was leaning against the counter with a coffee cup in one hand and his other pinching the bridge of his nose. The chaos around him was reaching critical mass, and he was this close to activating the fire suppression system just to get everyone to stop moving for five seconds.
“Alright, listen up!” Tony barked, his voice cutting through the noise like a repulsor blast. “I’m gonna need someone to explain to me why my kitchen looks like the aftermath of a toddler rave sponsored by NASA and a Viking warlord. And why is there a raccoon teaching my daughter how to disassemble a blender?!”
Rocket, perched on the counter with a screwdriver in one hand and a stolen bag of chips in the other, glared at him. “First of all, I’m not a raccoon. Second, she asked! And third, your kid’s a prodigy. You should be thanking me.”
Tony stared at him, deadpan. “Thanking you. For teaching my five-year-old how to weaponize small appliances. Sure. Let me just add that to my list of parenting wins right next to ‘let her play with a repulsor gauntlet.’”
Morgan, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by blender parts, looked up at her dad with wide, innocent eyes. “Daddy, I fixed it! See?” She held up what was left of the blender, which now had what appeared to be a laser pointer duct-taped to it.
Tony blinked. “That’s… great, honey. But maybe let’s not turn the kitchen into a mad scientist lab before breakfast, yeah?”
Across the room, Thor was attempting to teach Bruce how to “properly” wield Mjolnir, which mostly involved a lot of dramatic grunting and accidental property damage. A cabinet door hung off its hinges, and there was a suspiciously hammer-shaped dent in the refrigerator.
“Point Break!” Tony called, gesturing to the dent. “You break it, you buy it. And last I checked, Asgardian currency isn’t exactly accepted at Home Depot.”
Thor paused mid-swing, looking genuinely confused. “But Stark, I am merely demonstrating the art of—”
“Yeah, no, I don’t care,” Tony interrupted. “If I see one more scratch on my appliances, I’m billing Odin. And trust me, I’ve got his email.”
Bruce, who was holding Mjolnir with all the enthusiasm of someone handling a live grenade, sighed. “Tony, maybe we should just—”
“Nope,” Tony said, pointing a finger at him. “You don’t get to ‘maybe we should’ me, Banner. You’re enabling this. You’re an enabler. That’s worse than the guy with the hammer.”
Meanwhile, Vision was still floating in the corner, recording everything with the intensity of a nature documentarian capturing rare wildlife. Wanda, clearly aware of the camera, was now doing some kind of interpretive dance with her chaos magic, sending red energy ribbons swirling around the room.
“Vision!” Tony snapped. “What part of ‘stop filming my life for your weird robot scrapbook’ do you not understand?”
Vision lowered the holographic camera, looking mildly offended. “I am merely documenting a moment of communal bonding. It is quite fascinating.”
“Fascinating,” Tony repeated flatly. “Right. Because nothing says ‘bonding’ like my kid turning a blender into a death ray and Thor redecorating my kitchen with a hammer. Got it.”
Sam, who had been leaning against the wall watching the chaos with a grin, decided to chime in. “You know, Tony, if you didn’t want this kind of chaos, maybe you shouldn’t have invited all of us to live here.”
Tony turned to him, his expression one of pure exasperation. “First of all, Wilson, I didn’t invite anyone. You all just showed up and never left. Second, this isn’t chaos. This is… this is a systemic failure of personal boundaries.”
“Sounds like chaos to me,” Sam said, shrugging.
At that moment, the elevator doors slid open, revealing May and Pepper deep in conversation. As they stepped into the kitchen, an almost comical hush fell over the room. The music continued, but the dancing slowed to a halt. The Guardians froze mid-argument, and even Loki straightened slightly from his lounging position.
Pepper stepped in, May close behind. Pepper took one look at the scene—Morgan with her blender-laser hybrid, Thor and Bruce mid-hammer lesson, Rocket now attempting to hotwire the toaster, and Wanda still dancing like she was at a magic-themed rave—and sighed deeply.
“Tony,” she said, her tone dangerously calm, “what is happening here?”
Tony spread his arms wide, gesturing to the chaos. “What does it look like? It’s Tuesday.”
Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “I leave for one meeting…”
“And I lose control of the asylum,” Tony finished. “Welcome to my life.”
May took in the scene – the shattered light fixture dangling precariously from the ceiling, the half-burned pancakes smoking ominously on the counter, the children with flushed cheeks and wild eyes, and the superheroes in various states of disarray. Her expression cycled through surprise, confusion, and then resigned acceptance, as if she’d just walked into the world’s most chaotic family reunion and decided to roll with it.
“I’m leaving for work,” she announced to no one in particular, her voice cutting through the noise like a knife. Then she zeroed in on Peter, who was mid-air, attempting to flip over the couch. “You. Homework before web-slinging. And by ‘before,’ I mean right now.”
Peter landed awkwardly, his face flushing with embarrassment. “May, come on,” he protested weakly, though he made no move to avoid the affection as she crossed the room and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m, like, an Avenger. I don’t need a bedtime.”
“And yet, you still need to pass high school,” May shot back, her tone leaving no room for argument. “So, homework. Now.”
Peter groaned but slouched off toward the table, muttering something about “unfair parenting tactics.”
May then moved to Morgan, who was bouncing on her toes expectantly, clutching her blender-laser hybrid like it was a prized trophy. May bent down to kiss the girl’s cheek, then glanced at the Barton children, who were watching with interest. “Might as well make the rounds,” she murmured, giving each of them a quick peck on the top of the head. Lila giggled, Cooper rolled his eyes, and Nathaniel just looked confused.
Her gaze landed on Wanda, who stood awkwardly at the edge of the group, her red energy flickering uncertainly around her fingers. May hesitated only briefly before approaching her and, with gentle determination, pressed a maternal kiss to her temple. Wanda froze, her eyes widening in surprise, but May didn’t give her a chance to protest. “Be good,” she said simply, though the words carried weight beyond their surface meaning.
Then, with a wave to the room at large, she headed for the door. “I’d say don’t break anything, but…” she gestured to the already-shattered light fixture, “…too late for that.”
As May left, Pepper sauntered to the coffee machine, her crisp business suit a stark contrast to the casual chaos around her. She poured herself a cup with deliberate precision, took a slow sip, and then surveyed the room with the calculating gaze of a CEO assessing a particularly unruly board meeting.
Tony, who had been watching the entire scene with a mix of amusement and exhaustion, sidled up to her. “So, how’s your morning going?”
Pepper raised an eyebrow. “Better than yours, apparently. What happened to the light fixture?”
Tony gestured vaguely toward Thor, who was now attempting to balance Mjolnir on his nose. “Blame the demigod. Or the raccoon. Honestly, it’s a toss-up.”
“I’m not a raccoon!” Rocket yelled from across the room, where he was now attempting to teach Morgan how to reprogram the coffee machine to dispense hot chocolate instead of coffee.
“Tony,” Pepper said finally, her tone sharp enough to cut through the chaos, “there’s a board meeting at nine. Try to look less…” she waved her hand vaguely at his rumpled appearance, his unkempt hair, and the coffee stain on his shirt that may or may not have been from this morning, “…like this.”
Tony’s indignant “Hey!” was drowned out by Thor’s apologetic rumbling about the light fixture. “My apologies, Lady Pepper. I shall replace it with a grander fixture befitting the halls of Valhalla!”
“Put it on Steve’s tab,” Pepper replied smoothly, not missing a beat. “He’s the one who let you demonstrate Asgardian dance moves indoors.”
Steve, who had been quietly sipping coffee in the corner, looked up in alarm. “Wait, what? I didn’t—”
His protest died on his lips when Pepper fixed him with a look that had cowed billionaires and supervillains alike. “You’re the team leader, Rogers. That means you’re responsible for… whatever this is.” She gestured to the pancake batter splattered on the ceiling, the shattered light fixture, and the general state of disarray.
Steve opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it and simply nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Pepper’s gaze softened as it landed on Wanda, who was surreptitiously trying to hide the red energy still dancing at her fingertips. “Looking good, sweetie. Nice control.”
Wanda blinked in surprise at the praise, a small, pleased smile spreading across her face. “Thank you, Pepper.”
“Mom’s favorite,” Peter stage-whispered to Morgan, who giggled behind her hands.
Pepper raised an eyebrow, her tone playful but firm. “That’s right. And don’t you forget it.” She winked at Wanda, then checked her watch. “I’m off to save the company while you all…” she gestured to the pancake batter splattered on the ceiling, the blender-laser hybrid in Morgan’s hands, and Rocket, who was now attempting to teach Clint how to hotwire a toaster, “…continue whatever this is.”
With a final pointed look at Tony that somehow managed to convey both exasperation and affection, she headed for the door. She paused only to drop a kiss on Morgan’s head and to squeeze Wanda’s shoulder as she passed. “Be good,” she said, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of warning.
As the elevator doors closed behind her, Tony let out a long sigh. “Alright, people. You heard the boss. Let’s clean this up before she gets back and decides to revoke my access to the coffee machine.”
“Too late,” Rocket muttered, holding up a screwdriver and a handful of wires. “I already reprogrammed it to dispense hot chocolate.”
Tony stared at him, then at the coffee machine, which now had a blinking red light and was emitting a faint humming noise. “You did *what*?”
Rocket grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. “Relax, Stark. It’s an upgrade. You’re welcome.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “I’m surrounded by maniacs.”
Morgan tugged on his sleeve, holding up her blender-laser hybrid. “Daddy, can we test it now?”
Tony looked down at her, then at the chaos around him, and sighed. “Sure, kid. Why not. Let’s just… aim it away from the windows, okay?”
As Morgan cheered and the chaos resumed, Peter leaned over to Sam. “This is the most dysfunctional family I’ve ever been a part of.”
Sam grinned, clapping him on the back. “Welcome to the Avengers, kid. It only gets weirder from here.”
No sooner had Pepper left than the kitchen door opened once again, this time admitting Mantis and Nebula. The pair made an odd contrast – Mantis with her wide-eyed curiosity and Nebula with her perpetual scowl. Mantis immediately lit up at the sensory feast before her, her antennae glowing in response to the emotional maelstrom in the room.
“So many feelings!” she exclaimed, hands clasped together. “Joy, annoyance, embarrassment, attraction—” Her eyes widened further as she glanced between Thor and Bruce, then Steve and Bucky, a knowing smile spreading across her face.
Nebula took one look at the chaos, made a noise of disgust deep in her throat, and pivoted on her heel. “No,” was all she said as she turned to leave.
“But Nebula,” Mantis called after her, “there are pancakes!”
“Not worth it,” Nebula muttered, the door swinging shut behind her.
Mantis shrugged, then skipped into the fray, immediately gravitating toward the dancing children. Morgan reached for her hand, and Mantis accepted it with delight, allowing the child to teach her an improvised dance move. Her antennae glowed brighter as she absorbed the simple joy emanating from the girl.
The relative peace lasted approximately thirty seconds before the elevator chimed again. This time, Nick Fury stepped out, supporting Carol, whose arm was in a high-tech sling that emitted a faint blue glow. Despite her injury, Carol’s posture remained proud, though she allowed Fury to steady her as they entered.
Fury took one look at the scene – the shattered light fixture, the pancake batter on the ceiling, Rocket now attempting to teach Morgan how to hotwire the toaster, and Thor balancing Mjolnir on his nose – and sighed deeply. “I leave for one hour.”
Carol raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. “This is worse than the Kree mess hall after a bar fight.”
“You’re not wrong,” Fury muttered, guiding her to a relatively clean corner of the kitchen. “Stark!” he barked, his voice cutting through the noise like a whip. “What the hell is going on here?”
Tony, who had been mid-argument with Rocket about the ethics of teaching a five-year-old how to hotwire appliances, turned to face Fury. “Oh, hey, Nick. Carol. Nice sling. How does it feel now? Like you arm-wrestled a black hole and lost?”
Carol smirked. “Something like that. But I’m more interested in why your kitchen looks like a war zone.”
“It’s not a war zone,” Tony said defensively. “It’s… a creative space.”
“Creative space,” Fury repeated flatly. “Right. And the blender-laser hybrid?”
Tony glanced at Morgan, who was now proudly showing off her creation to Mantis. “That’s… a science project.”
“A science project,” Fury said, his tone dripping with skepticism. “Stark, I don’t have time for this. I need you to—”
Before Fury could finish, Mantis appeared at his side, her antennae glowing as she reached out to touch his arm. “You are very stressed,” she said earnestly. “But also… secretly fond of this chaos. It reminds you of family.”
Fury stared at her, his one eye narrowing. “Don’t.”
Mantis tilted her head, undeterred. “You should dance. It will help.”
“I’m not dancing,” Fury said firmly.
“I’ll dance with you!” Mantis offered, her smile widening.
“No,” Fury said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Mantis pouted but skipped away, joining Morgan and the Barton children in their impromptu dance party. Carol watched the scene with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “You know, Fury, for a guy who’s seen it all, you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm.”
“Sweet mother of—” Fury began, taking in the scene. “This is why I didn’t want an ‘Avengers live together’ situation. It’s like a damn daycare for people who can level cities.”
Carol snorted, wincing slightly at the movement. “Come on, Nick. It’s… homey.”
“Homey,” Fury repeated flatly. “The most powerful beings in the universe having a dance party with pancakes is ‘homey.’”
“Captain!” Thor boomed, breaking away from Bruce and Sam to approach Carol. “You honor us with your presence. How fares the arm that wielded the power of the universe?”
Carol flexed her fingers, the motion sending ripples of photon energy across her skin. “Getting stronger every day. Though I wouldn’t recommend cosmic infinity stone gauntlet snapping as a regular workout routine.”
“Speak for yourself,” Tony quipped, raising his coffee mug in a salute. “From one snap survivor to another – welcome to the ‘saved the universe, got the medical bills to prove it’ club.”
A hush fell over the room as everyone took a moment to acknowledge what Carol had sacrificed. She had been the one to wield the gauntlet in the final battle, channeling her cosmic powers to amplify the stones’ energy, snapping Thanos and his forces out of existence while managing, just barely, to survive the ordeal herself.
Fury cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the sudden sentimentality. “Yeah, well, just because you saved everyone’s asses doesn’t mean you get to skip physical therapy. Which is in an hour, by the way.”
Carol rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir, Director Babysitter, sir.”
Morgan, ever the ice-breaker, approached Carol with wide, reverent eyes. “Are you still glowy inside?” she asked, pointing to Carol’s arm.
Carol smiled, then held out her good hand, allowing a small burst of photon energy to dance across her palm. “Always, kiddo.”
Morgan’s delighted gasp was echoed by Nathaniel, who toddled over, followed closely by Cooper and Lila. Soon, Carol found herself surrounded by children and Guardians alike, all clamoring for demonstrations of her powers.
“Easy, easy,” Fury warned, but there was no real authority in his voice. Something suspiciously like fondness flickered across his face as he watched Carol indulge the children with tiny bursts of light.
As Carol was absorbed into the chaos, Fury found himself standing beside Natasha, both of them watching the scene with similar expressions of bemusement.
“So,” Fury said without looking at her, “this is what winning looks like?”
Natasha’s lips curved in a small smile. “Apparently.”
“Huh.” Fury considered this. “Not what I expected.”
“Better?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Fury grunted, his one eye narrowing as he took in the scene. “Better’s a stretch. But… it’s something.” He paused, watching as Carol conjured a small, glowing orb of light for Morgan, who clapped her hands in delight. “Still, I’d feel a lot better if someone could explain why there’s pancake batter on the ceiling.”
Natasha followed his gaze, her smirk widening. “Thor got excited. Something about ‘Midgardian breakfast rituals’ and ‘the spirit of feasting.’ Bruce tried to stop him, but…” She shrugged. “You know how it goes.”
“Yeah,” Fury muttered. “I do. And that’s the problem.”
Before he could say more, Rocket scampered past, clutching what appeared to be a piece of the toaster he’d been dismantling earlier. “Hey, Fury!” he called, not bothering to stop. “You ever think about upgrading your security systems? ‘Cause I just hacked your coffee machine in, like, two seconds. You’re welcome!”
Fury stared after him, his expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. “I’m surrounded by maniacs.”
Natasha chuckled, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is a bad thing,” Fury shot back. “These are the people who are supposed to protect the planet. And right now, I’m not sure they could protect a sandwich from a seagull.”
“Hey!” Tony called from across the room, where he was now attempting to clean up the pancake batter with a mop that was clearly not up to the task. “I heard that. And for the record, I could totally protect a sandwich. I’d just build a sandwich-defense drone. Or maybe a force field. Yeah, a force field. FRIDAY, add that to the list.”
“Already done, boss,” FRIDAY’s voice chimed in, earning a groan from Fury.
Carol, meanwhile, had managed to extricate herself from the children and was now standing next to Natasha and Fury, her good arm crossed over her chest. “You know,” she said, her tone light but with an edge of seriousness, “for a guy who’s supposed to be the ultimate spy, you’re not very good at blending in.”
Fury raised an eyebrow. “I’m not trying to blend in. I’m trying to keep this circus from burning down the planet.”
“Fair point,” Carol conceded. “But maybe cut them some slack. They’ve earned it.”
Fury sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Natasha nudged him with her elbow, her smirk softening into something almost affectionate. “Admit it, Nick. You missed this.”
Fury opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again, his expression shifting to something unreadable. “Maybe,” he admitted grudgingly. “But don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Natasha said, her tone teasing.
As the chaos continued around them – Thor now attempting to teach Mantis how to “properly” wield Mjolnir, Rocket and Tony arguing over the ethics of toaster modifications, and Morgan leading the Barton children in a spirited rendition of what appeared to be a dance battle – Fury found himself reluctantly smiling.
Fury watched as Sam tried to get Carol to settle a bet about who could lift Thor’s hammer, while Vision continued recording Wanda teaching Mantis to manipulate energy patterns. In the background, Steve and Bucky had returned to cooking, their movements a synchronized dance of domestic comfort, while Clint attempted to convince Rocket that no, the children could not have “just a tiny taste” of alien liquor “for educational purposes.”
The chaos rolled on, undeterred by injuries or traumatic pasts or the differences between species and planets of origin. In this moment, in this kitchen bathed in golden morning light, they were not Avengers or Guardians or spies or super-soldiers – they were family, bound together by something stronger than blood or duty.
Literally bound by Chaos. Loki was marveling on it.
And if family meant chaotic breakfasts and broken light fixtures and teasing and dancing and the occasional intergalactic misunderstanding… well, they’d survived worse. Much worse.
Not really. You put the Avengers, old and new in a kitchen, you get three weddings, four funerals, a stalking problem, an international breach, shitty music and an intergalactic problem with the elves. At least with Thanos they knew what to do.
They’d earn this chaos though, every beautiful, messy second of it.
Tony is still salty about it and he refuses to take his eyes off Rocket a single second.
Welcome to the Avengers’ Tower.