Avengers Imagines

He's Like Art. Terrible Art, But Still, Art.

It was the new world that you lived in - so long as new meant exactly the same. The Sokovian Accords had never been implemented, due credit to Captain America and the team of vagabonds he had managed to assemble in no time.

You would have laughed if it were not for the sheer horror of the situation, about the fact that the Avengers, to all appearances, had far better traction in open rebellion then they ever did working as a unit.

The team was put back together as soon as it was torn apart. No one was stupid enough to label a bunch of highly skilled, enhanced individual as the enemy. No one wanted to face the potential consequences. And so the new world was just like the old one. Only, worse.

Tony's guilt regarding the collateral damage that came with his team had been genuine. In the face of failure of the accords, he had taken it upon himself to rectify the detriment caused. Indemnification for civilian casualties were provided to the families concerned, financed by Tony Stark himself.

The arrangement was not necessarily the most optimum, but it was how things work for the time being. The Avengers were held together by a slender string, intertwined in formality and nostalgia.

"I cannot believe it. Again?" You asked incredulously. "Just, the whole building? The entire thing is a pile of debris?"

Bucky sat down and turned your chair to have you face him instead of Steve. "No, you have to understand. Steve was not aware that the man had an active bomb on his person, so when he-"

"We don't want to hear it, Barnes." Natasha slammed hand on the table, loud enough to drown the rest of the supersoldiers words, "I specifically asked you to take the fight out of the city. I broke my arm so you could take the fight out of the city!"

Pain fuelled her fury - Natasha had gotten into an unpleasant accident trying to direct the violence away from the people, hence the arm. Although there was remorse on Bucky's face, he did not look like he was going to give up without a fight.

In the midst of it all, the printer buzzed, grabbing everyone's attention. Peter carefully eyed the sheet of paper being expelled by the machine the best he could from his relatively faraway position. "Mr. Stark, what is that?"

"The list of casualties, pro tem." Tony roughly grabbed the list in question, quickly running through it as he spoke. You pulled the sheet out of his hands, going over the names yourself. "Front and back? That many?"

"This is just the first draft, the bodies we could identify through facial recognition." He replied, assessing the data flashing on the screen. "There are others, mutilated beyond anything anyone can recognise through sight alone."

The realization that Tony had stopped speaking came too late, and only when you had lost all sensation in your fingertips. Your eyes were glued to the name third of the casualty list. "Tony..." You landed a shaky finger below the name, "is this her?"

One look into your glossy eyes and Tony could feel his chest constrict. Immediately he turned and typed the name into the system. Sure enough, an on-site picture of the woman turned up - her face covered in ash, unblinking eyes scouring through eternity.

"Elena." You stood up, even though your feet could barely take the weight. She was not exactly your best friend; in fact you had not seen each other in years. But back when you were together, she was your rock, the one person you knew you could count on no matter what. Sure you had fallen out of touch and weren't even aware she lived in the same city as you, losing her felt like losing an inherent part of yourself.

The room fell silent. Some knew whom you mourned, others had read between the lines to the best of their abilities. Steve, a part of the former, put a hand on your shoulder. "I am so sorry, (Y/N)."

When you turned to him, there was hellfire in your eyes. "If you say another word, so help me God, Steve, there will be blood." There was enough poison in your words to make Steve physically retreat, and you utilised the newly created space to maneuver yourself away from the workspace. Leaving the building was not a feasible alternative, you had to settle for leaving the room.

-

The setting sun, with the aid of the cool evening air, had simmered down the majority of your rage. Be that as it may, you chose to remain seated on the roof, away from the voices and bodies cluttering your mind.

"Cap feels bad about what happened."

You were certain to scream at whoever was foolish enough to interrupt your brooding, if that person chanced to be anyone but Peter. The kid stood at the door, in a stance that did nothing to clarify whether he intended to converse or run for his life.

"Is that why he sent you here? To apologize in his stead because he feels so bad?" You scoffed. Peter was closer now, nevertheless remaining standing next to a seated you just for good measure. "Captain Rogers did not ask me to do anything. I came here on my own because I don't think anyone should be alone after just having lost their best friend."

"Oh, sweet child. Come here." You pulled Peter to your chest. Your fingers ran back and forth in his hair and eyes closed shut, trying to calm yourself down enough to generate a rational train of thought. "Elena was not my best friend. No, we just knew each other back in the day. I guess I am upset because I can't help but feel responsible for her death, what with all that has happened recently."

"So are you going to leave?" Peter's muffled voice came from near your collarbone. your hand froze abruptly and you looked down at the boy. "What?"

"That's what people do around here, right? They get into an argument and then they leave." Peter twisted free of your arms. "The last time there was a fight around here, Steve claimed a chunk of the team for himself and went AWOL. The Avengers are not the most functional group."

"I'm not leaving. Couldn't if I wanted to. That would mean I'm avoiding responsibility, by the virtue of which becoming the same as the people I'm mad at." Your hand was still on Peter's shoulder. He allowed the slightest of tug to pull him back in your hug. "You're going to stay?" He asked.

"Yes." You smiled, looping your arms around his slender body. Peter looked up with sparkling eyes. "And you and Cap are going to get along?"

You sighed. "Now that I can't promise."

"I can promise to try harder." It was Steve's voice. You wheeled around, only to be proven correct. "Steve, what are you doing here?"

"I cannot change everything I believe in, but I can promise to do better by you." Steve walked closer as he spoke, only stopping short a foot or so. "For now, I am taking charge of Elena's casualty compensation. It's the least I can do."

"Do you have any idea how much it costs?" You stood up, dusting your bottom. Peter did the same, his eyes carefully evaluating the two people in front of him. Steve's heart was in his mouth, his mind racing to find words to salvage the situation. "I do, Tony told me. I'll manage. I have some money saved up."

"You don't have to do this." You took a step forward, hoping he would do the rest. The fact that you had yelled at him earlier and been downright hostile made you feel unworthy of reaching out. So he did, by crossing the bare cement between the two of you and taking your hands in his. "I do. Am I allowed to apologize?"

"You tell me. Seems like that would entail compromising with everything that you believe in." You raise a brow, trying very hard to stop the corners of your mouth from twitching up. There was a shy smile on Steve's face, and it was endearing - the way he was avoiding looking into your eyes. "I guess I would just have to make an exception."

He drew you nearer by your hands until you were close enough for him to wrap his arms around your torso. Both of you had sought forgiveness and both were forgiven, if there had been an offense to begin with.

"See, the problem is still there. Nothing has been solved." Peter pointed out. "This is the disfunctionality I was talking about-"

The boy had to abandon his words, for he had been pulled into a superhero hug without warning. Even Peter knew, no matter how sound your facts are, you simply do not interject when you are being hugged by Steve Rogers and (Y/N) (L/N).