Chapter Text
Head pounding, eyes burning, Steven trudged home thinking longingly of his bed. They had been awake since Marc got them up the previous morning, spent the day worrying over the Avengers, and the rest of the night fighting Hydra. Now the first light of dawn was beginning to hit London.
And the door to their flat was open. Steven closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to fall over, the night’s exhaustion more fully catching up with him. Even Marc and Jake were completely wiped, quiet as dormice.
With the long practice of a frequent insomniac, Steven gathered what energy he could to deal with this. Steven peered through the door, bracing himself for the worst.
“Oh no, look at the state of this place,” he said, stepping inside with a sigh.
The flat was a wreck. Tables and shelves were up turned, even broken, and Steven’s carefully stacked books were scattered across the floor. The laundry they had hanging to dry had been pulled down and trampled and the kitchen was full of broken dishes. The Guses’ tank was fine and by some a miracle their laptop was still there, but otherwise the flat was in a sad state indeed.
Steven lifted up a book with a clear boot print on it. “Bugger.”
He sighed and began tidying up. He felt stretched thin, ready to snap, but he wouldn’t be able to get a lick of sleep until everything was accounted for and in its place.
The tables and shelves were first. Steven carefully stepped around books to right the ones that weren’t broken and began stacking books atop. He’d barely started when he heard a creak and a quiet thump.
Steven turned to see someone coming through his window.
Correction, Steven saw Hawkeye coming through his window. Steven’s mouth hung open, unable to find words to express how he felt about this.
Hawkeye paused, having noticed Steven watching him. “Sorry, just grabbing something I dropped.”
“You’ve got some nerve coming in here after what you did,” Steven said, finally.
“Yeah, yep, look, I just want to find…” Hawkeye glanced around the flat.
Steven huffed and crossed his arms. “You know, I’m going to have to find a new copy of The Genesis of British Egyptology. It’s out of print.”
Hawkeye pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t exactly worried about your books when Hydra attacked me.”
That deflated Steven a little bit. He wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with how messy things could get mid-battle and it was probably their fault that Hawkeye had been ambushed in their flat to begin with.
“Well, I suppose it can be a bit difficult in the circumstances... What were you looking for?”
Hawkeye sighed. “Merida.”
“What?”
“Merida from Brave? Red hair? Bow and arrow?” Hawkeye stared at Steven as if all of this was supposed to make sense. “Right, you don’t have kids. Just look for a cheap plastic toy.”
“Well, alright then. Where do you think you dropped it?” Steven asked, picking up a few more books.
Hawkeye squinted at him. “You are not what I was expecting.”
“What that supposed to mean?”
“Did you have a different accent an hour ago?”
Steven groaned. “Bloody hell, did they not tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
Dragging a hand across his face, Steven sighed. “You know what? Forget it. Let’s find your toy and get you out of here.”
Hawkeye – Clint helped him pick up the fallen books and broken dishes in the search for Merida. The both of them were too tired to talk much, but with an extra set of hands they made good progress straightening out the flat. However, the toy was no where to be found.
Clint threw in the towel first. “I’m calling it. It’s not here.”
“Really?” Steve asked, equal parts disappointed and relieved.
“Yeah, I’ll figure something out. I’m going to head off,” Clint said before hauling himself out of the window.
“Well, alright then. Use the door next time.” Steven waved goodbye completely drained of energy. He turned and collapsed into bed fully clothed. The flat was good enough, he’d finish clearing out the rubbish when he woke up.
But before he could even close his eyes someone began knocking at his door. He shouted, “Bugger off!” into his pillow.
The knocking continued. He groaned, pulling himself from bed to answer.
“Hasn’t anyone heard of a late morning?” Steven grumbled as he opened the door to find Natasha.
Natasha asked, “Have you seen Clint?”
“You just missed him. He’s on the roof.” Steven yawned.
“Of course he is,” Natasha said rolling her eyes. “Did he find his little good luck charm?”
Just then, Clint stuck his head back through the window. “Nat! No dice.”
“You’re going to be in hot water for this.”
“I’ll just have to accept my fate.”
While they were talking, Steven’s attention wandered. He spotted something wedged underneath the fish tank’s stand – a plastic figure with orange hair and a green dress. He bent down to pull it out.
“This what you were looking for?”
“You found it.” Clint said, hopping down from the window.
Thank god. Steven presented the toy to Clint. “Well, here you are.”
“I owe you one.” Clint brushed his thumb over the toy’s hair before stuffing it into his pocket.
“Yeah? You can pay me back by getting out of here. Go on, get.” Steven waved the both of them out of his door.
Seeming rather annoyingly amused, Natasha said, “We’ll be in touch!”
Steven slammed the door shut rather than answer. Crawling into bed, Steven pulled his pillow over his head. He slowly sank into a peaceful slumber.
Two minutes later his alarm clock went off.