Chapter 2
A week later, Clark knocks on the door of Steve and Bucky’s apartment. From inside he can hear the smoke alarm blaring, two cats howling, and the bird trying to break out of its cage. He doesn’t need x-ray vision to picture the chaos happening on the other side of the door. Instead, he knocks again and waits patiently for a response.
Bucky opens the door, glaring.
“What happened?” Clark asks.
“Steve tried to bake again.” Bucky grumbles, stepping to the side and letting Clark in.
“You know, back in the day cooking was easy, we just boiled everything.” Steve says poking his head out of the kitchen. Smoke billows out behind him.
“What did you try to make?” Clark asks. He breathes deeply and the only clue he gets is burnt chocolate.
“Brownies,” Steve says holding out a pan of crispy chocolate goo. Clark pokes one.
“How are they both burnt and undercooked at the same time?”
“It’s the stove. There are too many buttons. It’s not like the stove I’m used to.” Steve complains. He sets his disastrous attempt at cooking on the counter.
“It’s okay, you can share credit with me for bringing the pie.” Clark says. He holds up two apple crumble pies, fresh baked from Ma’s kitchen and still warm.
“Show off,” Steve grumbles good naturedly. As Steve works at opening windows and getting the rest of the smoke out of the kitchen, Bucky turns to look at Clark. There’s a calculating expression on his face.
“We got a new dog in the shelter last week,” He starts casually. From the kitchen Steve grins. That’s the voice Bucky used on Ma whenever he tried to break Steve out of his sickroom. It was just a shade too innocent to be believable but too charming to say no to all the same.
“That’s nice,” Clark says politely.
“He’s a real sweet boy, he just needs some training.”
Clark sighs, this is not the first time Bucky has tried to tempt him with a pet, “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just between The Daily Planet and Superman I don’t have time for a dog.”
“Besides, no dog could keep up with him on his morning jogs,” Steve adds with a laugh. Clark doesn’t disagree.
Steve jerks his head back towards the kitchen, “Now come on, let’s head out. We’re late.”
The three of them gather around the kitchen counter. Between the toaster and the microwave sits an innocuous looking black box. Stark Industries is printed neatly along the bottom. To someone less informed, the box might be a waffle press or some equally useless kitchen utensil that was bought and then quickly forgotten about. To Steve, Bucky, and Clark the box is far more than an overpriced gadget.
Steve pushes a button and the room is bathed in a red glow. Clark feels his feet leave the floor. It almost feels like flying, except he’s not in control. He closes his eyes as he’s pulled between dimensions. When he opens them again he, Steve, and Bucky are standing in Tony Stark’s high tech kitchen.
“There you are. Finally.”
Clark looks up to see Natasha with her arms crossed, “hurry up, the pizza’s here and Thor has already eaten a full box.”
“Good to see you too,” Steve grins. Natasha uncrosses her arms enough to give him a brief side hug before slipping around him to get to Clark.
“I call dibs on the first piece, last month I didn’t get any,” she says taking the pie from his hands.
Tony pops his head in, “If that’s homemade pie, you have to share it. Also, hey guys. How’s Metropolis?”
“Pretty good. Things have been mercifully quiet lately.” Steve says.
“And how is your Super Friends project going?”
“Justice League,” Steve corrects, “and it’s going very well.”
Tony snorts, “The Avengers is a much cooler name.”
Clark huffs. That has been an ongoing debate between him and Tony since Clark had announced the project. Natasha cuts off his response as she hands him a piece of pie.
“Is Batman still actually showing up to your meetings?” She asks, “I have a bet going with Sam that he wouldn’t last longer than four meetings.”
“Then its Sam’s lucky day, because we just had our fifth meeting a few days ago.” Clark says proudly.
“When are we going to meet Batman anyway?” Tony asks, reaching for a piece of the pie. Natasha waves the knife threateningly until he retreats.
“We keep trying to invite him to things. He refuses to come.” Steve says.
“He’s not really the sociable sort.” Clark adds.
“I haven’t even met him yet.” Bucky says. Steve privately thinks that unless Bruce wants own a menagerie of stray cats, dogs, and birds, it’s probably a good thing. He can’t imagine Bruce being an animal loving sort.
“How are things going here?” Steve asks.
“Fine, we’ve had some minor hydra incidents but nothing we can’t handle,” Tony says. He steals himself a piece of the pie, “You’re former lawyer is insane though.”
“Mr. Murdock? What he do?” Steve asks.
“He and his partner Nelson are on a two man crusade to dismantle The Accords one clause at a time.” Tony says.
“He’s already gotten several repealed. Ross is furious.” Natasha says cheerfully. Steve beams at the news. Clark feels a spiteful stab of satisfaction. Anyone who annoys the heck out of Ross is okay in his book.
“That’s not the craziest part though.” Tony says, “Somehow, Murdock managed to convince his buddy Daredevil to start speaking out.”
“Really?” Steve says sounding intrigued, though his lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile. Or perhaps a smirk.
“Who’s Daredevil?” Clark asks.
“A weird vigilante ninja that hangs out in Hell’s Kitchen.” Tony says, “Nobody knows who he actually is though.”
Steve smirk becomes a little bit sharper. Clark tilts his head curiously.
“Daredevil is so anti-social he makes Batman look downright friendly,” Steve says, then turns back to Tony, “how has that been going?”
“Surprisingly well. The dude is still weird as hell and refuses to take off his mask, but he’s unexpectedly eloquent when he talks. Between him and Murdock people are really starting to change their stance on the accords.”
“Good. I hope he keeps up the good work.” Steve says. Natasha passes him a slice of pie, “Now let’s go share this with the rest of the gang.”
Under his orders Natasha, Bucky, Clark, and Tony troop out into the living room where there are multiple boxes of pizza and queued movie waiting for them. He can hear Thor’s booming voice as he and Clint argue over the last slice of anchovy pizza. A warm fuzzy feeling wraps itself around Steve. Metropolis is home, but here – surrounded by friends from both worlds – is home too. Steve has never felt so lucky.
Sam pokes his head in, “You coming Cap? We’re just about to start the movie.”
Steve tries to wipe the sappy smile off his face as he nods and follows Sam into the crowded, chaotic, perfect living room.
~*~*~*~*~
Meanwhile, back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne sits at his computer in the Batcave ready for a long night of reviewing case files. His young ward, Dick Grayson, should be doing his homework nearby. Instead he’s on the sparring mat doing flips and bounding around with far too much energy for anyone to have. Bruce watches him do a backflip out of the corner of his eye.
“Can I go to the next Justice League meeting with you?” Dick asks suddenly. Bruce sighs, this has been a reoccurring question in the Wayne household these past few months. The answer is always the same.
“No.”
“Come on,” Dick complains, “why can’t I join your cool superhero club?”
“It’s not a club.” He says shortly. He’s trying to focus on a report about one of Joker’s earlier crimes involving a series of zodiac themed crimes when Dick’s voice breaks his concentration.
“How is it not a club? You have monthly meetings to discuss your mutual hobby. That sounds exactly like a club to me.”
“Crime fighting is not a hobby.” Bruce says, “and these are courtesy meetings to exchange pertinent information with my Metropolis counterparts.”
Dick does a cartwheel and lands just behind Bruce’s chair. He drapes his arms over it and Bruce notes that the boy has gone through another growth spurt. Dick is growing in leaps and bounds and Bruce can hardly keep up with how fast he’s outgrowing his clothes.
“Why do your courtesy meetings come with their own name then?” Dick asks, and even though his voice is beginning to crack and deepen it still retains its childlike impishness.
“Because Superman was semi-delusional after exposure to kryptonite gas when he thought of the name. I don’t know why The Captain went along with it.” Bruce huffs. He hears a chuckle from edge of the cave as Alfred comes forward with a tray. On which sits a cup of tea for Bruce and a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows and whip cream for Dick. As if the boy needs more sugar.
“I’m afraid you can’t pin the blame solely on Superman. Captain Rogers is also quite fond of the name.” He says. Dick’s eyes light up. Bruce pauses with his cup of tea halfway to his lips.
“How do you know what Captain Rogers thinks about the Justice League?”
“It was in his most recent letter, coded of course for security.” Alfred says primly.
“Holy Post Office! The Captain is your pen pal?” Dick asks excitedly. Bruce can practically feel him on the other side of the chair, vibrating with barely concealed glee. Alfred doesn’t look smug, he’s far too proper for that, but the corner of his lip does tilt upwards and his eyes flash with amusement. Bruce should be discouraging Alfred from engaging with Captain Rogers. Not that he suspects any ill intentions on the part of The Captain, but because every letter presents a security risk. However, one glance at Alfred and he can’t make the words come. Bruce has watched as over the years old army friends of Alfred have passed away one by one. He knows that Alfred misses the comradery that comes with serving in the war together. He can’t deny an old man one of his few simple pleasures.
“Oh yes,” Alfred says, “He and Sargent Barnes have been regaling me with stories of their war for the past few months now.”
“Sargent Barnes?” Dick asks.
“A friend of Captain Rogers.” Alfred says. Bruce has heard Captain Rogers talk of Sargent Barnes many times since the man came to live in Metropolis. At first Bruce had been hesitant about an ex-assassin joining his world, but Sargent Barnes seems to have truly left that life behind him. Besides, Bruce trusts Captain Rogers and Superman to keep an eye on such an obvious threat.
“Does he get to be in the Justice League too?” Dick asks. Bruce is positive he’s purposely trying to get under his skin. There’s a slight smirk playing on the corner of Dick’s mouth, that he’s making no effort to hide. Alfred, the traitor, is purposely aiding him, an amused twinkle dances in his eyes.
“No he doesn’t,” Bruce says, “Now go do your homework.”
He shoos his ward out of the cave and back to the mansion. Alfred follows behind, fielding a litany of questions about The Captain and Sargent Barnes from Dick. Alone in the batcave Bruce doesn’t bother to hide his smile as he turns his attention back to the computer screen.