Sokovian Fallout
"Can you elaborate on that, Mr. Stark? How in God's name have the Avengers helped anyone? During Ultron's attack on Sokovia-"
"The Avengers are helping people," Tony interrupted firmly. Camera lights flashed. "I'm not saying Sokovia wasn't as bad as it was- Sokovia never had a fail-safe, and it was a tragedy, what happened. I will remind you that I, not the Avengers, created Ultron and I alone will remain responsible for what happened there. The only thing the Avengers did in Sokovia was contain the damage to the best of their ability."
When he paused his speech, at least a dozen other reporters rushed forward, microphones, recorders, cameras, and notebooks in hand.
"What about the battle of New York, Mr. Stark?"
"Mr. Stark, what happened to the CEO of Stark Industries, Virgina Potts? Is it true that she is now in an affair with your ex-security guard, Mr. Hogan?"
One voice rang above the others. It was the same blond reporter who had asked the last question. Tony thought he was probably an intern.
"Didn't Bruce Banner, AKA the Hulk, aid you in building Ultron? He hasn't been seen since the fall of Sokovia, and General Ross has ordered a-"
Once again, Tony interrupted, although this time he did so vehemently, eyes blazing. "Bruce Banner fought to save Sokovia just as the other Avengers did. If anything, he- and the Hulk- are heroes. No more questions."
The last statement caused the crowd of paparazzi to go into panic, but Tony ignored it and vanished behind the curtains. He loathed giving public statements, but it was necessary to get the public to trust the Avengers again.
Everyone was on edge after Sokovia. Besides, Tony couldn't have anyone thinking of Bruce as a monster.
Tony let the public-image façade fall away once the curtain shut behind him.
"Nice job."
Tony jumped around in surprise at the voice. Steve Rogers was leaning against a table in the back, hands in his pockets.
Tony gave a breathy laugh and then shook his head. "Ah. It was nothing, seriously. Thanks for comin', anyhow... the press really pushes for answers these days."
Steve fell into step beside Tony as they walked out. "It wasn't 'nothing', Tony. Really, I appreciate you doing this. Heaven knows none of the rest of us could handle the media. They need to see that they can trust us, and because of you, they're starting to. You're taking care of the public, the funds, the damage... Ross."
The billionaire shifted uncomfortably under the praise. He had never been good at taking genuine compliments. So he forced another smile and awkwardly clapped Steve on the back.
"Don't mention it, Cap. Just doing my part to clean up this shit show. Ross deserves what's coming."
Things had been hectic since Sokovia.
Bruce Banner had vanished into thin air with the jet, meaning that the whole world was on a frantic search for the Hulk. Especially after Ross made a public show of describing how monstrous he was.
Nobody could be exactly sure where Clint stood. He hadn't quite 'retired'.
If Steve had to guess why Clint was still involved, he'd say the archer hadn't been the same after the deaths of Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, both of whom had died to save him in Sokovia.
Thor had been missing since he left for Asgard. Steve remained 'salty' about being left in the dark on that situation. (Steve still wasn't sure what Tony meant by calling him 'salty'.)
Vision and Rhodey were jumping around the country, trying to complete legal work with the Avengers, SHIELD, and the military. It was mostly hush-hush, but Tony kept in touch.
And Steve and Natasha? Well... Steve and Nat were just there for the ride. They'd bunked down at Barton's farm for the time being, while the press recovered.
Things had certainly taken their toll. The team was scattered.
---
"How did public statements go?" Natasha asked without looking away from her book.
Steve glanced towards her. They'd been lingering around Barton's barn if they weren't tagging-along with Tony to cover business or checking for signs of Bruce.
Steve felt like he was overstepping with every new day he stayed. Even if Laura was too polite to ask them to leave, he knew that she didn't like being involved in Avengers business.
"Fine. Good. Tony took care of everything."
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were a better liar, Rogers."
Steve huffed out a laugh. "I'm being serious, Nat. Of course it was messy, but Stark- he's actually... he's actually doing a good job. We shouldn't've underestimated him."
"Yeah, yeah." Natasha teased, although her tone had softened.
They sat in silence for a second and Steve took another sip of the coffee. They were sitting in the kitchen, the sun low in the sky. Laura and Clint were outside with the kids, giving them archery lessons.
And the picket fence, and the tiled roof, and the children's drawings hung on the walls. And the dinner heating in the oven and the flowery tablecloth and the creak of old, loved wood floors.
It was a life Steve had always thought he'd wanted. But after the ice, it just didn't feel right.
War changed people- and not just the war against Hitler or Redskull- but the war against HYDRA and the war against the Chitauri and the war against the people that would always be around.
Domestic life- family life- wasn't for Steve Rogers. Not anymore.
But it was still nice, holding the coffee mug with a stylized drawing of Hawkeye on it. It almost reminded him of when the original Avengers lived together in Stark Tower.
Back when they had been forced to live together, distrustful of every move another made- or well, at least before they built trust. And then it turned into spaghetti nights and movie nights and shawarma. Sparring. Friendship. A semblance of trust. Of family.
It was a nice mug.
"How are you holding up?" Natasha asked, finally turning away from her Agatha Christie book.
Steve met her gaze. "I'm fine. A bit of cabin fever. You?"
"Little bored," Natasha murmured with a smirk. Steve let out a chuckle. "But I guess I'll get over it."
The front door swung open with a squeal and several kids came bounding in with tiny bows and quivers. Scuffed elbows and blistered hands and all.
Clint and Laura followed, smiling tiredly. Laura's smile strained when she caught glimpse of the two Avengers in her kitchen. Like she had just remembered that the superhero business wasn't over yet.
"Miss me?" Clint quipped towards his teammates.
"Not you. Welcome back, Laura." Natasha responded evenly, standing up. "I'll go round up the rascals for dinner."
---
Steve didn't know how much more of this any of them could take.
It was only a matter of time before another crazy monster crawled out of a sewer drain, and when that happened, the only available Avengers were Steve and Nat. Maybe Clint, if he and Laura worked something out.
It's not that Steve wanted another fight, another mission- he was just getting antsy knowing that the longer they did nothing, the less time they had until something did happen.
And make no mistake; he and Nat weren't doing anything. Not anything productive, anyways.
They woke up, they ate a pleasant breakfast with the Barton family... they made themselves scarce. Until the public recovered from the mess of Sokovia, it wasn't the best idea for them to leave he safe house.
Since Laura didn't exactly have a Stark-gym that wouldn't break under his fists, or punching bags that wouldn't tear, the limit of training was pretty narrow.
Chop wood.
Go on runs.
Spar with Natasha.
Steve was pretty sure that he'd chopped enough wood to last Clint another ten years. And Natasha was out playing with Nathaniel.
So run it was.
The outdoors were beautiful in the evening. Steve tried to go on a walk or a run every night after dinner. It helped clear his head.
Plus, if he ran up the farthest hill, it gave him the best view of the setting sun.
The wide expanse of a meadow covered in starlight, framed with mountains on either end. Clouds only rose in the border of the picture, with stars forming in the highest parts of the sky. Navy turned periwinkle turned crimson turned Amber turned lemon, the colors flooded the sky like watercolors.
The meadow was full of dandelions that had just become clumps of fluffy white seeds, so when the warm Summer breeze picked up...
Steve thought it looked a bit like magic.
He came up there every night with his sketchbook and his pastels and placed the same scene in the book. Each page was the same setting, only slightly different as the seasons changed.
Once the book was complete, he'd have a whole year of that dandelion meadow.
Steve slowly shut his sketchbook. The pastel drawing he had just completed was different from the rest. There was no dazzling sunset, no waft of dandelion dust. There was only a hollow, cold wind. Dark clouds muffled the sun. The picture he had drawn was dark and bleak.
It was cloudy.
It looked like it was going to rain.
"What am I doing?" Steve whispered to himself.
With a final sigh, he put the book back in his bag and started the long path back to the house. If he was lucky, he could sneak in without waking any of the smaller children up.
But just as Steve turned to go back, a blinding strip of light cut through the clouds, illuminating the field of dying dandelions. He swung around to see lightning rip across the landscape. When the resonating growl of thunder followed, the rain started.
'Fantastic,' Steve thought dryly, letting huge rain droplets mingle with sweat on his face.
Before Steve could tear his eyes away from the meadow one last time, something caught his eye.
A black shape fell through the barrier of clouds. At first Steve thought it was a bird of some sort, but then it kept falling... and falling...
Steve's jaw went loose as his eyes followed the figure. Down, down, down. For a moment, he thought it looked distinctly human-shaped, but the thought flew out of his head the moment the body slammed into the ground. In the meadow.
Steve winced when it hit the ground. Thud.
Dirt flew into the air where the thing had fallen.
"Hello?" Steve yelled. There was no way that a human could've survived that landing. He started running down the hill anyways, towards the huge crater. If anything, he'd get upset because now he'd have to draw the meadow with a giant hole in it.
After another minute of scrambling down the hill, Steve came up to the figure.
A cold gnawing feeling started eating away at his stomach.
It was a person, and they were alive. Shaking violently, nearly vibrating. They had huddled into themselves in a defensive position.
The man was gasping on ugly retching and half-formed sobs.
"Son of a gun," Steve mumbled. He had a sinking feeling that it wasn't just rain coating them, but blood.
"Hey. Hey- are you..." He trailed off when another streak of light shot through the sky and illuminated the man's face.
Steve's voice cut off and for a second, his vision blurred to a dark, fuzzy orange and he was sure he was about to pass out.
Under layers of dirt and filth and blood and grime, matted, snarly hair, and a pale gauntness-
Steve lifted one hand up to his mouth to keep himself from vomiting at the coppery reek of blood.
But there was no denying it.
It was Loki.