Chapter 4
It started with a sandwich. Not just any sandwich - Tony’s special grilled cheese sandwich that he’d been dreaming about all morning, crafted with aged gouda and this ridiculous truffle butter Pepper had imported from France. He’d left it on the counter for exactly 27 seconds while checking on one of his suit upgrades. When he returned, the sandwich was gone, replaced by an origami swan made from the wrapper.
The security footage showed nothing. Even FRIDAY seemed confused, which meant only one thing: magic was involved. And there was only one person who’d recently been practicing small-scale teleportation spells with a certain teenage mentor…
“WANDA!”
The witch’s laughter echoed through the tower’s ventilation system, followed by Peter’s distinctive snort-giggle. Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, it is on, kids.”
The next few hours saw the rapid formation of alliances. Tony immediately recruited Strange (“I’m only participating to ensure nobody breaks the fundamental laws of reality.” “Sure, Doc. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”) and Loki (“Finally, someone appreciates the art of chaos.”). Peter, despite his mentor’s betrayed looks, stuck with Wanda (“She’s like the cool older sister I never had!”).
In the background, Pepper’s voice drifted from the conference room where she sat with May, both women deep in discussion about their latest charitable initiative.
“Yes, Senator, I understand your concerns about the budget…” Pepper paused, watching a remote-controlled paper airplane zoom past her head, trailing sparkly purple magic. “But if you look at the projected community impact- No, that crashing sound was just… team building exercises.”
The chaos spread through the tower like wildfire, each floor becoming its own battlefield of increasingly ridiculous proportions. Clint had somehow fashioned a nest in the rafters using what appeared to be Tony’s collection of vintage band t-shirts (“Those are collectibles, Barton!”), while Natasha had transformed the east wing corridor into what she called a “psychological warfare zone” - complete with holographic projections of everyone’s most embarrassing moments. Don’t mind her, she has been waiting for this moment since Budapest. Don’t ask Clint about it either.
The ‘paper’ airplane, it turned out, was made from Tony’s missing sandwich, now preserved through what Strange insisted was “perfectly reasonable use of magic.”
Meanwhile, Vision phased through walls with increasing frequency, torn between his duties as the tower’s voice of reason and his not-so-secret feelings for Wanda. Every time she caught his eye, she’d blush slightly, her magic flickering pink instead of red. Peter found this endlessly amusing, especially when Vision would get so distracted he’d forget to stay solid and sink through the floor.
In the background, Pepper’s voice drifted from the conference room where she sat with May, both women maintaining an island of professional calm amid the storm.
“The youth center renovation is actually ahead of schedule,” May was saying, ducking automatically as Clint swung past the window on what appeared to be a zip line made of webs. “We’re thinking of adding a science lab- hold that thought, Pepper.”
They both flattened against the table as Thor’s hammer flew overhead, trailing… was that glitter?
“As I was saying,” Pepper continued into her phone, “the quarterly projections show- TONY STARK, THAT BETTER NOT BE MY VINTAGE CHANEL SCARF YOU’RE USING AS A BANNER!”
Natasha had left her main position because nobody dared approach her and she was getting bored. In the kitchen, she was giving Steve and Bucky a master class in psychological warfare as if they hadn’t had decades of life over her. They were too scared to tell her so. “Look, you’re thinking too small. Sure, the protein shake was funny, but what if…” She leaned in, whispering something that made Steve’s eyes go wide and Bucky cackle with unholy glee.
“Yes, Senator, the quarterly projections are quite promising- No, that screaming isn’t a security breach,” Pepper explained smoothly, ducking as what appeared to be a remote-controlled dragon made entirely of paper clips zoomed past her head. “We’re implementing some… innovative team-building exercises.” (“Sure, Pep and I am the King of England. BARTON YOU TOUCH THAT COLLECTION, NOT EVEN NATASHA WILL FIND YOUR CORPSE.)
May covered her microphone as Thor thundered past the window, riding what appeared to be a modified Roomba while brandishing Mjolnir like a joust. “Should we be concerned about that?”
“Only if he breaks through the reinforced glass again,” Pepper sighed, returning to her call. “Now, about those budget allocations…”
Bruce had established a “Switzerland” zone in his lab, though he occasionally peeked out to provide scientific consultation to both sides. “Technically speaking,” he told Rocket, who was modifying what looked suspiciously like a paintball gun crossed with a quantum accelerator, “if you adjust the resonance frequency, you could theoretically make the paint change colors based on emotional state.”
“Doc,” Rocket grinned, showing far too many teeth, “I like the way you think.”
Sam had somehow recruited a small army of pigeons (“They’re surveillance experts!”) while Scott had his ants running reconnaissance missions through the tower’s ductwork. This led to several interesting moments when the two forces met, resulting in what Rhodey’s increasingly detailed scorecard labeled “The Great Air-Ground Skirmish of Lunch Hour.” Rhodey is very amused still, but he can feel Pepper’s angry breath behind him and is too terrified to show it.
Above the growing chaos, Gamora and Nebula watched from their perch on the landing pad.
“Are all Earth wars this…” Nebula searched for the word.
“Ridiculous?” Gamora supplied, watching as Peter Quill attempted to challenge Loki to a dance-off for control of the elevator. “No, I think this is special.”
In the conference room, May and Pepper maintained their island of professional calm.
“The after-school program numbers are exceeding expectations,” May noted, casually holding up a folder to shield her coffee from a rogue stream of bubbles that definitely hadn’t come from any normal bubble machine. “Especially since we added the- one moment.”
They both paused as Peter swung past, clutching what appeared to be Thor’s cape while the god himself rode Iron Man’s back like a rodeo contestant, bellowing something about “glorious battle” and “worthy opponents.” Thor, it’s lighting in clear sky. Someone help, Strange’s cape is stuck on Clint’s vents. (“Are those Thor’s stolen pop tarts I am seeing in the vents?”)
“The mentorship program,” May continued seamlessly. “We’re seeing real improvements in- oh, look out.”
They ducked again as Strange opened a portal directly above Steve’s head, releasing what appeared to be every rubber duck from every bathroom in the tower. The ducks were singing. In harmony. “The Star-Spangled Banner.” (“What the actual fuck Stephen?”) (“Your husband’s idea.”)
“That’s actually impressive,” Pepper mused, before returning to her call. “No, Senator, that was not a choir of waterfowl you just heard…”
The afternoon took an unexpected turn when Sam, who’d been conducting reconnaissance with his tactical pigeon squadron, made an accidental discovery in the rarely-used east wing library. He’d been tracking one of his feathered operatives through the stacks when he rounded a corner and found Steve and Bucky in what could only be described as a very compromising position. Apparently they had escaped Natasha’s clutches at some point and decided to reward themselves with some private time.
Everyone knew Bucky and Steve were together. Almost as much of an open secret as the one that Wanda and Vision were a pair. It wasn’t even a question anymore—it was just a fact of life, like Tony’s love of sarcasm or Peter’s inability to stop talking. But that didn’t stop the team from taking every opportunity to tease them mercilessly.
The super soldiers sprang apart, but not before Sam had captured several photos on his phone. “Don’t mind me,” he grinned, backing away slowly. “Just documenting this for… historical purposes.”
“Sam,” Steve warned, but there was no real heat in it. His hand was still intertwined with Bucky’s metal one, thumb tracing absent patterns across the vibranium plates.
“Oh, come on, Cap,” Sam said, already sending the photos to the group chat. “You two are basically married. Why are you still acting like we don’t know?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Because he’s a punk who thinks he’s subtle.”
“And you’re a jerk who keeps enabling me,” Steve shot back, pulling him close again.
Sam made his strategic retreat, leaving them to their privacy. He had barely made it back to the main floor when his phone buzzed with responses:
Natasha: Clint owes me $50. Told him we’d catch them in the library.
Tony: Wow, groundbreaking. Next you’ll tell me water is wet.
Bruce: I mean, they were being unusually quiet today. Suspiciously quiet.
Thor: A MOST HONORABLE DISPLAY OF AFFECTION!
Meanwhile, back in the conference room:
“The youth center’s science program has shown remarkable results,” May was saying, pausing briefly as what appeared to be a conga line of Iron Man suits paraded past the window. Leading them was DUM-E, wearing what looked suspiciously like a tiny party hat. “The students are particularly excited about- one moment, please.” Pepper could almost feel the disturbance in the force just by seeing Dum-E. Tony was going to chase his first kid, wouldn’t he?
She and May both ducked as Strange opened a portal directly above them, releasing a cascade of what appeared to be… marshmallows? (“Stephen this is the second portal today.”) (“My bad.”)
“That’s actually an improvement over the rubber ducks,” she noted, plucking one from her hair before returning to her call. “No, Senator, that squishing sound is not cause for concern…”
The marshmallow incident, as it would later be known, transformed the battlefield in ways no one could have predicted. Bruce emerged from his lab sanctuary clutching what appeared to be a modified particle accelerator with a funnel attachment.
“I call it a Theoretical Saccharide Velocity Enhancer,” he announced, eyes gleaming with the particular madness that only sleep-deprived scientists can achieve. Of course, scientists and their ridiculously long names.
Rocket’s whiskers twitched with immediate recognition. “It’s a candy cannon,” he translated, already prying open a panel with his claws. “Doc, you beautiful disaster, this is why you’re my favorite human.” Rocket you have said that to three people in 20 minutes, love.
Peter discovered the webbing-marshmallow combination purely by accident—a desperate maneuver while dodging Strange’s half-hearted portal attacks. The resulting elastic platform bounced him twenty feet straight up, where he clung to the ceiling, eyes wide with inspiration behind his mask.
“Guys,” he breathed, “I think I just invented sugar-based architectural engineering.”
The impromptu game of “The Floor is Lava” that followed would later require extensive incident reports and a strongly-worded email from Pepper. Thor, delighted by the chaos, contributed enthusiastic lightning strikes that cast the entire common area in flickering blue shadows. Each flash illuminated faces transformed by childlike glee—heroes who carried worlds on their shoulders, momentarily freed from their burdens.
In the eye of this sugary hurricane, Wanda and Vision found themselves unexpectedly trapped in one of Strange’s wayward portals. The dimensional pocket offered a rare moment of privacy—or so they thought.
“You know,” Vision said, picking a marshmallow from Wanda’s hair with gentle precision, “for someone who can manipulate reality, you’re remarkably bad at dodging flying confectionery.”
Wanda’s eyes sparkled as red wisps danced between her fingers. “Maybe I wanted you to notice me,” she replied, her Sokovian accent thickening slightly. “All this time together, and it takes a sugar war for you to finally touch my hair.”
Vision’s synthetic features softened in a way that made him look startlingly human. “I notice everything about you, Wanda. Always have.”
Their intimate moment was shattered by a collective groan from the common room, where Strange’s portal had inconveniently opened like a theater curtain.
“For the love of—” Clint threw a marshmallow at them. “We’ve been watching this soap opera for months. Can we skip to the part where you admit you’re catastrophically in love and save us all the dramatics?”
“Seriously,” Peter added, dangling from a web directly above them. “Even Mr. Stark and Pepper weren’t this painful to watch, and I had to sit through three years of that train wreck.”
Tony, nursing a coffee in the corner and sporting a bruise from earlier aerial marshmallow combat, nearly inhaled his drink. “Excuse you, Underoos? I was the pinnacle of romantic subtlety.”
“You programmed your suit to form a heart in the sky during a Category 4 hurricane response,” Natasha remarked without looking up from her phone. “CNN covered it live.”
As laughter rippled through the room, Sam—ever the instigator—casually leaned against a wall streaked with sticky marshmallow residue.
“If we’re exposing disaster couples,” he said with dangerous nonchalance, “let’s talk about the science-thunder romance brewing in the lab downstairs.”
The room fell silent. Bruce froze mid-adjustment on his candy cannon, his expression reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights—if deer occasionally turned into indestructible green rage monsters. Thor, covered in marshmallow debris and looking unfairly majestic despite it, simply grinned.
“What?” Bruce squeaked, voice betraying him. “That’s—we’re not—”
“Don’t bother denying it,” Sam continued mercilessly. “I’ve seen how you light up when he talks about Asgardian particle physics. And Thor, buddy, nobody stares at someone running calculations for three hours straight unless there’s something more than scientific curiosity happening.”
Thor, never one for subterfuge, bellowed with laughter. “THE VALIANT FALCON HAS UNCOVERED OUR PASSION!” His arm enveloped Bruce’s shoulders, nearly lifting the smaller man off the ground. “BANNER AND I HAVE INDEED BEEN CONDUCTING EXPERIMENTS OF THE HEART!”
“I’m researching one-way tickets to Wakanda,” Bruce muttered into his hands, ears burning red.
The room exploded into chaos—Tony demanding details with scientific precision, Natasha calmly updating her relationship betting pool spreadsheet, and Peter swinging in celebratory circles, trailing webs and marshmallow strings.
Through it all, Sam stood back, watching his handiwork unfold with the satisfaction of a man who had just won three separate bets in one move.
“Yeah,” he said to no one in particular as marshmallow warfare resumed around him, “I always call it.”
Through it all, Pepper’s voice continued from the conference room: “Yes, Senator, I can assure you that the Avengers take their responsibilities very seriously. The occasional… unusual sounds you may hear are just part of our innovative team-building exercises. Now, about that funding proposal…”
Vision, still trailing Wanda like a lovesick ghost, phased through a wall directly into the middle of the madness. He was so distracted by the way her magic danced through her hair that he forgot to maintain his density, creating a domino effect that ended with:
Three Iron Man suits tangled in webbing
Loki transformed into a very surprised-looking peacock
Strange’s cloak playing an impromptu game of tag with Sam’s pigeons
And somehow, impossibly, every single rubber duck from the earlier incident returning to perform what appeared to be a full production of “Les Misérables”
“I do not control the ducks,” Strange insisted as they launched into “One Day More.” “They’ve developed their own consciousness. I find it best not to question it.”
Back in the library, Steve and Bucky emerged to find the tower in beautiful chaos. They stood for a moment, hands still clasped, watching their family’s joyful madness unfold.
“Remember when we thought the future would be all flying cars and robot butlers?” Bucky mused, watching as Peter swung past with what appeared to be a makeshift cape made entirely of fruit roll-ups.
“Got something better,” Steve smiled, squeezing his hand.
Their moment was interrupted by Tony’s voice over the intercom:
“If you two are done making heart eyes at each other, we’ve got a situation in the kitchen. The ducks have discovered the spice rack, and they’re getting… experimental.”
In the conference room, Pepper and May maintained their professional composure with superhuman effort.
“The community impact statistics are particularly impressive,” May noted, watching as Natasha rode past on Bruce’s shoulders, both wielding what appeared to be super-soakers filled with glitter-infused silly string. “We’re seeing a real change in- excuse me.”
They paused as an entire mariachi band of rubber ducks waddled past, serenading Vision and Wanda, who had finally given up pretending they weren’t completely smitten with each other.
“The mentorship program,” May continued smoothly, “has exceeded all expectations- oh, incoming!”
They ducked yet again as Thor’s victory lap around the tower (still on his modified Roomba) triggered every sprinkler on the floor. The water, however, had been replaced with what appeared to be…
“Is that chocolate milk?” Pepper asked, sniffing the air.
“Looks like Bruce’s lab time wasn’t entirely peaceful after all,” May grinned, opening an umbrella she’d started keeping handy for exactly these occasions.
As evening fell, the various teams gathered in the common room to assess the damage and declare winners (Rhodey’s scorecard had evolved into a complex spreadsheet with categories like “Most Creative Use of Powers” and “Best Unintentional Property Damage”).
The rubber ducks had moved on to an ambitious production of “Hamilton,” complete with choreography. The tactical pigeons had formed a synchronized flying team. And somewhere in the ventilation system, Clint was still singing “Never Gonna Give You Up” in perfect harmony with FRIDAY.
“Next time,” Tony announced from his position sprawled across the ceiling (don’t ask), “we make it a monthly thing. With rules.”
“Rules?” Loki scoffed, finally back in his normal form but still occasionally sprouting peacock feathers when he sneezed. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Rule one,” Pepper called from the doorway, finally done with her calls, “no more using my designer accessories as battle flags. And Tony, why are you on the ceiling?”
“Gravity is more of a suggestion right now,” he shrugged. “Strange said it should wear off in an hour. Maybe two.”
“Rule two,” May added, joining them with several boxes of pizza (and one box of specially seasoned breadsticks for the ducks), “someone explains to me why there’s a flock of pigeons in tactical gear doing the YMCA on the helipad.”
“They’re expressing themselves through dance!” Sam protested. “It’s good for morale!”
As the debate about proper bird choreography threatened to spark another conflict, Vision and Wanda slipped away to the quiet of the balcony. Peter watched them go, then glanced at where Steve and Bucky sat together on the couch.
“Love Birds fell for the traps,” he texted May. “Both sets!”
Her response came quickly: “Good work, kid. Now help me figure out how to get these ducks to stop doing encores. They’re starting ‘Wicked.’”
“I saw that, Peter,” Tony called from his ceiling perch. “No more matchmaking until we fix the chocolate milk in the sprinkler system. And someone please tell Thor that a Roomba is not an acceptable mount for a god of thunder!”
“EXCUSE YOU,” Thor boomed from somewhere above them, “THUNDER ROOMBA IS A NOBLE STEED!”
In the background, Bruce was already sketching plans for next month’s battle, half making heart eyes at the booming God. “If we adjust the quantum resonance of the candy cannon…”
“No,” everyone said in unison.
“You haven’t even heard my idea yet!”
“Last time you said that, we ended up with sentient jello in the elevator,” Natasha reminded him. “It still hums ‘Staying Alive’ every time someone presses the button for the 15th floor.”
As night fell over the tower, the various teams settled into a peaceful exhaustion. The ducks had finally tired themselves out after a stunning rendition of “Defying Gravity.” (“They’re a year too early to be singing that, ain’t they?”) Sam’s pigeons had established a night watch rotation. And somewhere in the vents, Clint had finally fallen asleep, though he occasionally mumbled lyrics in his dreams.
Pepper and May sat in the quiet of the conference room, surrounded by the aftermath of their surprisingly productive day.
“Same time next month?” May suggested.
“Absolutely,” Pepper agreed. “But maybe we schedule it for after the board meeting this time.”
“Probably wise,” May nodded, watching as a single rubber duck waddled past their door, wearing what appeared to be a tiny Phantom of the Opera mask.
Just another day at Avengers Tower, where family came in all forms - including super soldiers finally finding their way home, witches and androids learning to love, and apparently, a chorus of Broadway-obsessed waterfowl. Someone get Thor away from that Roomba please. Loki- stop screaming, I know you're adopted- go get your adopted brother before he gets us.
------
Morning came way too fast, way too chaotic.
The cacophony in the kitchen eventually settled into something resembling order, the last traces of breakfast disappearing into the sink or the dishwasher. Natasha observed from her perch on the counter, her legs dangling casually as she nursed her third cup of coffee. The steam curled lazily upward, and she watched as the natural rhythm of their chaotic family slowly transformed into something more focused. It wasn’t an abrupt change—more like the tide rolling in, inch by inch, until the shore was swallowed whole. She’d been trained to notice such subtleties, and this was no exception.
Tony cleared his throat, the sound sharp and deliberate, cutting through the remaining chatter like a blade. “As much as I love hosting the intergalactic breakfast club,” he drawled, his trademark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I believe we’ve got a world to keep from falling apart. Again.”
The statement hung in the air for a moment, an unspoken signal that rippled through the room. Bodies shifted, postures straightened, and expressions hardened from casual camaraderie to resolute determination. It was a sight to behold—this seamless transition from chaos to purpose. This was the magic of their found family, the glue that held them together even when the universe seemed determined to tear them apart.
Steve nodded, his features settling into the familiar lines of leadership. “Tony’s right. We’ve got work to do.” His gaze flicked to the holographic display FRIDAY had projected above the kitchen island, a complex tapestry of global crises color-coded by urgency. “The rebuilding efforts are making progress, but there are still communities struggling with basic infrastructure. Clean water, electricity, shelter—it’s the basics, but it’s everything.”
“And that’s just Earth,” Carol added, wincing slightly as she adjusted her sling. Her voice carried the weight of someone who’d seen too much, fought too hard, and still kept going. “The ripple effects of the Snap and its reversal are still destabilizing entire systems across the galaxy. It’s not just about rebuilding—it’s about keeping the peace while we do it.”
Peter Quill leaned forward, his eyes scanning the holographic map with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Yeah, we’ve been monitoring some pretty sketchy power vacuums in the Andromeda sector. Lots of opportunistic types looking to fill the leadership gaps. It’s like the Wild West out there, but with more aliens and fewer horses.”
“Precisely why we need to coordinate our efforts more effectively,” T’Challa’s voice emanated from the holographic display as his image materialized. Even through the projection, his regal presence commanded attention. “Wakanda’s resources are stretched thin, but we are making progress in the African continent and parts of Asia. However, we cannot do this alone.”
The kitchen, so recently filled with the playful chaos of breakfast, transformed into a war room of sorts. Holographic displays expanded to show crisis points across the globe and beyond, each marker representing communities in various stages of rebuilding. The contrast between their domestic morning and the scope of their responsibilities was stark, yet somehow fitting—this was the duality they all lived with, the balance they’d learned to navigate.
Pepper entered, now fully dressed in her CEO attire, tablet in hand. Her presence was calm but commanding, a steadying force in the room. “I’ve been coordinating with international relief organizations. Stark Industries has pledged resources to twenty-seven countries for infrastructure rebuilding, but the bureaucracy is…” She paused, searching for a diplomatic word.
“A nightmare?” Tony supplied, earning a wry smile from his wife.
“Challenging,” Pepper corrected, though her eyes conveyed agreement with Tony’s assessment. “We’re making progress, but it’s slower than we’d like. Every step forward feels like two steps back.”
“People are scared,” Bruce observed quietly, adjusting his glasses. His voice was soft but carried the weight of someone who’d seen humanity at its best and worst. “After everything that’s happened—aliens, infinity stones, half the population disappearing and reappearing five years later—they’re looking for stability, for something to believe in.”
Thor’s expression grew contemplative, a shadow of his former arrogance replaced by hard-earned wisdom. “In times of great uncertainty, people look to their leaders, their governments, their gods, their heroes.” His gaze swept the room, lingering on each face. “They look to us, whether we deserve such faith or not.”
The weight of Thor’s words settled over the room, a mantle they all carried in their own ways. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather reflective—each person contemplating their role in the delicate process of helping a traumatized world find its footing again.
Wanda’s soft voice broke the silence. “I’ve been helping with the psychological impact—using my abilities to ease trauma in the hardest-hit communities.” Her fingers traced patterns of red energy in the air, delicate and controlled. “So many nightmares, so much fear… but also hope. People helping each other, rebuilding not just homes but lives.”
“That’s what we need to focus on,” Steve said, his voice gentle but firm. “Not just the physical infrastructure, but the human element. Communities, connections, trust.”
Tony’s fingers danced across the holographic display, zooming in on specific regions. “Okay, let’s get tactical. We need to divvy up responsibilities based on our strengths.”
What followed was a complex choreography of planning and coordination. The room buzzed with purposeful energy as assignments were made, resources allocated, and timelines established. The casual breakfast banter evolved into strategic communication, though the underlying warmth remained—this wasn’t just a team of colleagues, but a family united by a common purpose.
Clint studied the map, his finger tracing a pattern across the Midwest. “Laura and I can coordinate rural outreach through our networks. A lot of farming communities are struggling to reintegrate.”
“Excellent,” Pepper said, making notes on her tablet. “We can channel agricultural resources through your contacts.”
“Banner and I will focus on clean energy initiatives,” Tony added. “Now’s the perfect time to rebuild smarter, not just rebuild the same old flawed systems.”
Bruce nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. “We could implement the modified arc reactor technology in areas with damaged power grids.”
“Vision and I can help with that too,” Wanda offered, her hand finding Vision’s. “Between his processing power and my ability to manipulate energy…”
“Perfect,” Tony agreed. “And speaking of energy—Danvers, once you’re cleared by medical, how do you feel about being our orbital infrastructure consultant?”
Carol’s eyes lit up with something like mischief. “You mean, can I lift heavy things in space? I thought you’d never ask.”
The planning continued, roles assigned based on unique abilities and personal connections. The conversation flowed naturally between the practical details of reconstruction efforts and the deeper implications of their work.
“We’re not just rebuilding infrastructure,” Natasha observed during a lull. “We’re rebuilding trust. In governments, in institutions—in heroes.”
“Some of that trust will have to be earned back,” Rhodey pointed out, his military perspective bringing a necessary pragmatism. “A lot of people are asking where we were during those five years, or why we couldn’t prevent the Snap in the first place.”
“Valid questions,” Steve acknowledged, the burden of past failures evident in the set of his shoulders. “We don’t have perfect answers, but we can show them through actions that we’re committed to doing better.”
“Which brings me to my next point,” Pepper interjected, her CEO persona in full effect. “Optics matter. Tony and I will be meeting with U.N. representatives next week to discuss the Accords revisions and how heroes can work within international frameworks while maintaining necessary autonomy.”
Tony’s expression flickered with familiar resistance before settling into reluctant agreement. “Politics,” he muttered, though without real venom. “Necessary evil, I suppose.”
“Very necessary,” Pepper emphasized, her tone brooking no argument. “We need to work within existing systems even as we help improve them.”
As the morning stretched toward noon, the plans crystallized. Teams would disperse across the globe—and beyond—tackling different aspects of the monumental task before them. The Guardians would monitor galactic stability, the Wakandans would lead technological integration efforts in developing nations, and the Earth-bound Avengers would split between humanitarian aid, infrastructure rebuilding, and diplomatic missions.
“One more thing,” Tony said as the meeting wound down. His usual sardonic tone softened, revealing the vulnerability beneath. “I know we’re all busy saving the world—again—but I was thinking… weekend gatherings. Not just once a month. Every weekend.”
The request hung in the air, uncharacteristically tentative coming from Tony. Natasha caught the barely perceptible tremor in his voice, the hint of fear beneath the casual proposal. After everything they’d lost, after the years of separation and the battles that had nearly taken them all, Tony wasn’t just suggesting logistics—he was asking them not to disappear from his life again.
Steve was the first to respond, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Every weekend sounds good to me, Tony. Bucky and I will be here.”
“Count us in,” Clint added, glancing at his children with a smile. “The kids love it here anyway.”
One by one, they agreed—some enthusiastically, others with grumbling about Tony’s “neediness,” but all with the underlying understanding of what he was really asking. This wasn’t just about social gatherings; it was about preserving the family they’d fought so hard to protect.
“Well, that’s settled then,” Tony said briskly, his vulnerability disappearing behind his customary bravado. “Weekend slumber parties at the tower. I’ll get FRIDAY to set up a chore wheel.”
Pepper rolled her eyes fondly. “I’ll handle the scheduling, dear. Last time you made a chore wheel, you rigged it so Thor always had to clean the bathrooms.”
“In my defense,” Tony replied, “he’s the only one who can lift Mjölnir to unclog—”
“And that’s quite enough of that topic,” Pepper interrupted smoothly, earning chuckles from around the room.
With plans made and missions assigned, they began to disperse, the energy in the room shifting once again as they prepared to face their respective challenges. There were goodbyes to be said, supplies to be gathered, and countless details to coordinate before they all went their separate ways—only to return when the weekend arrived, drawn back to this chaotic haven they called home.
The preparation for departure transformed the tower into a whirlwind of activity. Each person moved with purpose, gathering equipment, consulting maps, checking communications systems. Natasha observed it all from strategic vantage points, taking note of the subtle interactions that revealed so much about their dynamics.
Thor embraced Bruce with characteristic exuberance, lifting the scientist clear off the floor. “I shall return with tales of glory and scientific curiosities for you to analyze,” he promised, seemingly oblivious to Bruce’s flustered attempts to maintain dignity.
“Just come back in one piece,” Bruce managed, adjusting his glasses once Thor set him down. “And maybe collect soil samples from the Xandarian recovery zones? Their terraforming techniques could be—”
“Anything for you, Banner,” Thor interrupted with a sincerity that made Bruce’s cheeks flush deeper. Sam, passing by, made exaggerated gagging noises, earning him a thunder god’s glare that held no real heat.
Across the room, Steve and Bucky were reviewing mission parameters, their heads bent close together over a tablet. Their conversation was all business, but their body language spoke volumes—shoulders touching, Bucky’s flesh hand resting casually at the small of Steve’s back, Steve’s thumb absently tracing circles on Bucky’s metal wrist. The casual intimacy of long-time lovers comfortable in their connection.
“If you two could stop making heart eyes at each other for five minutes,” Sam called over, “maybe we could finalize the extraction protocols?”
Steve’s long-suffering sigh was belied by the affection in his voice. “The protocols are finalized, Sam. I’m just making sure everyone’s on the same page.”
“Uh-huh,” Sam replied skeptically. “That’s why Barnes here looks like he’s planning to eat you alive?”
Bucky’s slow, predatory smile did nothing to refute the accusation. “Mission first, dessert later,” he drawled, causing Steve’s fair complexion to color impressively.
The banter continued as equipment was packed, communications tested, and final instructions exchanged. Through it all, Natasha noticed Tony growing increasingly quiet, his usual stream of sarcastic commentary tapering off as the moment of departure drew closer. His eyes followed each person with a carefully concealed anxiety that she recognized from their years of friendship—the fear of loss poorly disguised as indifference.
Pepper noticed too, her hand finding Tony’s, fingers intertwining in silent reassurance. The gesture seemed to ground him, though the tension didn’t completely leave his shoulders.
One by one, they began to leave. The Guardians departed first, their ship lifting off from the tower’s landing pad with Rocket shouting colorful threats about what would happen if anyone touched his stuff while he was gone. “I’m serious, Stark! If I come back and find one screw missing, I’m turning your suit into a toaster!”
“Noted, Ratchet,” Tony shot back, though his smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Peter, who had been quietly helping pack supplies, piped up, “Don’t worry, Mr. Stark! I’ll make sure no one touches anything. Except maybe Drax’s snacks. He left a bag of chips, and I’m kinda hungry.”
“You touch my snacks, insect, and I will end you,” Drax growled, though the twinkle in his eye betrayed his amusement.
Gamora rolled her eyes. “Children, all of you.”
Thor followed soon after, the Bifrost creating a spectacular light show that had Morgan and the Barton children pressing their faces against the windows in wonder. “Farewell, friends! I shall return with tales of glory and perhaps a few space goats!”
“Space goats?” Peter whispered to Nebula, who shrugged. “Don’t ask.”
Steve, Bucky, and Sam left on a quinjet bound for Eastern Europe, where displaced communities were struggling to reintegrate. Clint hugged his children fiercely, promising to call every night before heading out with Natasha for their own mission in rural America. Bruce departed for a research collaboration in Wakanda, armed with Tony’s tech and Thor’s parting kiss still warming his lips.
With each departure, Tony’s quips grew more forced, his movements more restless. He maintained the façade of casual disinterest, but Natasha knew better—she recognized the signs of a man counting exits, cataloging threats, preparing for the pain of potential loss.
Wanda was the last to leave, lingering in the common area with Vision at her side. She approached Tony with a directness that few others attempted.
“We’ll come back,” she said simply, her accent thickening with emotion. “All of us.”
Tony’s deflection was reflexive. “Well, yeah. I’ve got the best entertainment system and fully stocked bar in New York. Of course you’ll be back.”
Wanda smiled, seeing through the deflection. Without warning, she stepped forward and embraced him, red energy briefly dancing around them both. “We’re family now,” she whispered, too low for others to hear. “Families come home.”
Tony remained stiff for a moment before his arms came up to return the embrace, his eyes closing briefly. When they separated, he cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. “If you’re reading my mind, kid, I’m revoking your weekend pancake privileges.”
“I don’t need to read your mind, old man,” she teased gently, the term ‘old man’ carrying none of its former venom. “Your heart is loud enough.”
With that, she and Vision departed, their figures fading into the distance as they flew toward their assigned mission in South America. The tower, so recently filled with voices and movement, fell into a strange silence that seemed to expand to fill the empty spaces.
Tony stood on the balcony long after everyone had gone, his silhouette framed against the afternoon sun. Pepper approached quietly, wrapping her arms around him from behind, her cheek resting against his shoulder.
“They’ll be back,” she murmured, echoing Wanda’s assurance.
Tony’s laugh held little humor. “I know that. I’m not some clingy mom whose kids just left for college. I’ve got projects to work on, meetings to avoid, a company to pretend to run while you actually run it…”
Pepper merely tightened her embrace, knowing him well enough to recognize the deflection for what it was.
“It’s too quiet,” he admitted finally, the words barely audible. “I got used to the noise.”
“You have about ten minutes to enjoy the quiet before Morgan finishes her nap,” Pepper reminded him, her tone gently teasing. “And Peter will be back from school in a few hours. May’s working late at the clinic, so dinner will be just us, the spiderkid, the toddler, and Rhodey if he makes it back from Washington in time.”
“A skeleton crew,” Tony murmured, though some of the tension had left his voice.
“Family,” Pepper corrected, turning him to face her. “Different configuration, same heart.”
Tony’s expression softened, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. “When did you get so wise, Potts?”
“Around the third time I had to talk you down from building sentient kitchen appliances at 3 AM,” she replied dryly, earning a genuine laugh from her husband.
They stood together as the afternoon light bathed the city in gold, the silence between them comfortable now rather than empty. The world was still healing, their family scattered across continents and stars, but in this moment, they were anchored by the certainty of return—by weekend pancakes and movie nights, by the promise of chaos resumed and love reaffirmed.
And at the tower, Tony worked furiously on multiple fronts – developing new technologies to aid the recovery efforts, coordinating logistics for resource distribution, and, when necessary, using his considerable political capital to cut through bureaucratic obstacles.
“It’s not enough,” he muttered during a late-night lab session, surrounded by holographic projections of global recovery metrics. “We’re moving too slowly.”
Pepper, bringing him coffee and gentle reason in equal measure, settled beside him. “It was always going to be slow, Tony. You can’t snap your fingers and fix everything overnight.”
The unfortunate choice of words hung between them, Tony’s expression darkening momentarily before he exhaled, shoulders slumping.
“Bad metaphor,” Pepper acknowledged softly.
“No, you’re right,” Tony conceded, rubbing his eyes. “I just… I want it fixed now. All of it. So we can all…” He trailed off, the unspoken fear evident in his voice.
“So we can all feel safe again?” Pepper suggested, her hand finding his. “Tony, safety was always an illusion. But family – that’s real. That’s why everyone’s coming back this weekend, not because the world is fixed, but because we need each other to face what isn’t fixed yet.”
The truth of her words settled over him, not entirely comfortable but necessary. They will be back during the weekend. And they will have fun and live together like nothing else matters. And the house will feel like home once again.