Camp Asgard

Trigger warnings are listed at the beginning  of each chapter. Be that as it may, below is a list of every trigger warning that will appear in this story, which will be updated as new chapters are posted.

In order of appearance: mentions of enlisting in the army; broken engagement; mentions of disappearances/animal attacks; small amounts of blood;  graphic description of a corpse/decomposition; recurring nightmares; neglect of physical health; near death experiences; mentions of family deaths.

The second the car rolled to a stop in the campsite’s gravel parking lot, Steve flung open the door and took in a deep inhale. The smell of damp earth and fallen pine needles greeted him like rainfall in the desert. The long drive over had made him wish, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, that he had gotten around to fixing the window crank in his car. At present, only the passenger side window was able to be rolled down. That’s what you get for driving such an old piece of junk, James had teased as he enjoyed the thick forest air from his side of the car. But now Steve had unlimited access to it and took another deep breath, letting it out in a contented sigh.

“Christ, calm down,” James said with a laugh, getting out of the car himself. Though he teased, Steve knew the forest had a similarly calming effect on him. After months of living in the cramped city they shared an apartment in, they had finally come back for a few days to set up preparations for the summer work season. That was an entire week ago. The week had passed at a tiresome pace for Steve as he counted down the days to return to what he considered his true home: Camp Asgard.

Steve turned to look around the parking lot. “Are we the last ones here?” He identified Tony’s car almost immediately, not through recognition but by the fact that it was always the fanciest, newest model and changed year to year, though never seeming suited for their offroads surroundings. Besides that he recognized Carol’s motorcycle and Clint’s jeep.

James shook his head as he surveyed the lot as well. “No, Proto and Arachnid hit traffic. They said they’ll be late.” 

Entering the dining hall, they saw that they were both right; other than Bruce and Natasha, everyone else had already arrived and started eating dinner. “Buck, Captain, glad to have you,” T’challa greeted them by their camp names with a warm smile. 

“Glad to be back,” Steve said. Starting tomorrow the only gatherings he was likely to see T’challa in were work meetings. The rest of the crew would often spend their time off with each other, whether in smaller groups or all together, but for him the workload never seemed to stop piling up. As the site supervisor it made sense, but Steve did not envy the position. Work didn’t officially start for any of them until the next morning though which gave T’challa the time to relax and socialize. 

Carol was in the middle of telling Scott a story when Steve sat at her table. “Hey Cap,” she greeted him. “I was just telling Ant about how Nick lost an eye last month.” He smiled, remembering the story from when she had called him a week later to complain about how Nick had refused to see a doctor for days before finally caving. He was one of the most stubborn people Steve had ever met, matched only by Carol herself.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Steve said, reaching across the table for the mashed potatoes. Camp Asgard, thanks to the hard work of the cooks, called into question the old stereotype of camp food tasting awful and he had missed the good, home cooked food that was served daily here. Neither he nor James knew anything about cooking, so they primarily relied on take out and prepackaged food.

“So he wears an eye patch all the time now?” Scott asked, to which Carol nodded. “Does he look ridiculous or badass? Probably both,” he guessed. 

“I don’t think he’s capable of looking ridiculous, that guy is way too scary.” Steve turned at the voice to see a young boy he didn’t know. When they made eye contact he said, “Right, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Peter.” He held out his hand with an earnest smile.

“I’m Captain,” Steve said, taking his hand in a firm handshake.

“Oh, we’re using our made up names! Then I’m Spider,” Peter said. “I’m a new cook here. I’m really excited to be working with Scott. I mean, Ant. Everyone I’ve met so far has been super nice, especially Mr. Panther. I thought he wouldn’t be ‘cause he seems so formal and he’s the boss and all.” The kid talked a lot, and fast, but Steve didn’t mind. He’d already decided that he liked him. 

“Anyway,” Peter continued, “I almost didn’t even get to apply for the job because my Aunt’s worried about those hikers in Silver Falls. But I’m really glad I did.”

Steve frowned.“What hikers?”

“You know,” Scott said, pulling his attention back towards him, “those two hikers that went missing in the state park.”

“They found their bodies yesterday morning,” Carol said.

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed, “but they weren’t sure at first. Apparently they were attacked by bears, so it was pretty gruesome. They had to use their dental records.”

“Silver Falls is hours away,” Scott pointed out. “What does it have to do with Camp Asgard?”

Peter shrugged. “Nothing, I don’t think. Aunt May is just a worrier.”

Steve jumped slightly as a hand clasped his shoulder from behind. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” the voice attached to that hand said. 

He turned to grin at Natasha. “Hey, Arachnid. It looks like you won’t be the only spider around this season.” He gestured towards Peter. “This is Spider.”

Natasha nodded at him as a greeting. “It’ll be nice to have another eight-legger around,” she joked with a slight smile.

“You guys get way to into your camp names,” Peter said with a laugh.

“Just wait, kid,” Scott said, “soon you’ll be just as much of a whackjob as the rest of us.”

Natasha met his eyes again. “I’m gonna move my bags into my cabin so I don’t have to worry about it later. Want to come help me, Captain?”

Steve hesitated. Natasha was not the type of person to ask for help very often. She clearly wanted to discuss something in private. It was an easy guess as to what it was. There was no point in trying to delay it- he knew she would find a way to get him alone eventually- so he nodded and followed her out. 

He walked with her as she lead them in the opposite direction of the parking lot, though not seemingly to anywhere in particular. They didn’t speak at first. He focused on the sound of his steps on the dirt path. Even that was different here, the soft scuff distinctly separate in sound from the tap of his sneakers on city sidewalks. 

After a few minutes of walking, they found themselves in front of the mountainside cabins. She stopped walking and Steve stopped beside her, finally looking up at her. She gestured to a bench. “Do you want to sit?” He nodded. She waited until they were both seated to speak again.

“How are things?”

“As in?”

“With her.”

He swallowed. “Peggy.”

His voice came out thickly. She noticed. It was hard not to.

“Yes.”

Her gaze was steady and calculating. Natasha was always hard to read; he never was.

Steve reached into his shirt to pull out the engagement ring strung onto his necklace. “She gave this back. Then she left.”

She was quiet again. And then, “How long ago?”

He heaved a sigh, putting his head in his hands. “Three weeks.”

She didn’t say anything, giving him space to talk when he was ready. It took a few minutes before he was able to fill it.

“I told her she was going to get herself killed. She said that if I tried to stop her from enlisting then I was the one killing her.”

He felt Natasha’s hand on his back. They sat there in silence for a long time.