If you had been told not so long ago that you were creating a very unlikely friendship in Sam and Wade when they had joined you on your mission to find Tony, you never would have believed it. They were nothing alike, and their egos and attitudes were certain to clash at every turn, and they did. But despite that, something between the two of them worked and they had a mutual respect for each other despite their manner together; so much so that Sam had called on Wade to meet for a very specific reason.

"Alright, my aesthetically inferior friend," Wade smiled, "when's the big day?"

"We haven't decided yet," Sam answered with a shrug. "We managed to convince (Y/N) to plan this for us, so it's kinda up to her. We needed the push."

"Excellent choice, my friend. That girl can run control freak on just about anything, that little minx." Wade reached out and took each of their beer bottles in hand, raising them into the air with a gentle shake and a clink of the glass to signal Weasel to throw him two more. "But come on, I have to make sure my calendar is clear for this momentous occasion. I've been freelancing a lot lately, and word's getting around. I'm in demand, baby."

"Oh, so you assume that you're invited?"

Wade gasped aloud and released the bottles in his hand, letting them smash to the floor as he stared at Sam with his mouth agape in shock. His breathing got so ragged that Sam thought that the man might actually cry and this wasn't just an act. He started to think that he had really just shredded Wade's heart. "Oh my god...you...you wouldn't," Wade finally whispered.

"Nah, I'm just screwing with ya," Sam waved dismissively. He took the new beer from Weasel and took a long drink, watching the two men argue about the shattered glass on the floor and who should have to clean it up. The man was obnoxious and loud, inappropriate and crude, but even with that, Sam was certain that he had made the right choice in his newest friend. "Actually, how do you look in a tux?"

"Hot as fuck, bro. Look at me!" Wade exclaimed without missing a beat, jumping up with no care to the glass all around him and spinning slowly for Sam to get a full view with maybe a little too long of a stop to see his backside. "I'm offended that you would even ask, man. We were practically naked in the jet together amidst all of this glory."

Sam nearly choked and spit his drink back into the bottle as he took a sip, "when were we ever?"

"After (Y/N) puked on you and I walked through that diarrhea-nasty mud pit."

"Right...I guess I blocked that part of my life. That woman has puked on me so many times that I'm starting to think its personal."

"Pfft, that's not true. She's just mean," Wade snickered, returning to help Weasel only to stop almost immediately and continue the conversation. He turned back to Sam slowly, a hand raised in question, his head cocked to the side as he fell into his confusion. "Hold up. Why do I need a tux?"

"I can't have a groomsman dressed like that," Sam answered matter-of-fact, "although, maybe the mask wouldn't be a bad idea."

~~~

Steve's need for a minute alone had turned into a few hours alone, and he never emerged from the gym before you decided to finally leave, believing that maybe he didn't want you to be waiting. He knew that you were sitting in the hallway patiently for him to have the time that he wanted, but this had been so long now that the message was clear. Sometimes the only thing that Steve could do when his emotions got the best of him was to punch it out; sometimes that would take much longer than he anticipated and many more bags destroyed than he might have planned on.

Glancing down at your watch, you saw that you were going to be late to meet with Clint and Natasha, as you had planned to go out to the house to keep them up to date on everything that had been going on. They wanted reassurance that it was time for them to come back and to rejoin the team since the kids had been good for so long, but now your visit would be anything but reassurance; you were going to tell them to stay away longer and shook your soul to know that it was your own kids forcing them out.

"Steve?" you called out to him, peeking your head through the door. "I'm about to leave to meet with Clint and Nat. Do you want to come with me?"

"No."

"Okay," you smiled softly, "I'll text you when I get back."

He heard the sadness in your voice, even though you had tried so hard to mask it and to spare him any more distress. You were fooling yourself to think that you could have made that work with this man, of all men; the one who knew you far too well. Steve pulled his hands back and allowed the bag to swing into them, stopping it and letting out a long sigh, wiping the few strands of sweaty hair from his forehead as he turned to you. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"Yes, but I know that you need time to work through this. I won't push."

"Thanks," he mumbled, turning back to his work without anything more to offer. He had disengaged and was lost in his own mind, predictable and reliable in his method. You weren't sure what to say, so you stepped back through the door, allowing it to shut quietly behind you.

~~~

You had been to your home in Brooklyn only a few times since you had moved back to the compound, and seeing it again only made you yearn for it as you had when it first became yours. The bricks were a bit more weathered, and the trim around the windows that had been gleaming white on that first day was a little cracked and yellowed, but the house was still a beautiful sight. The small yard in the front was meticulous, with fresh flowers growing around the stairs that led to the door, but when you took a quick look at the yard in the back, the sounds of pounding and banging made your steps a little quicker.

"Barton?" you called out to him, peeking over the cracked wooden fence that had seen much better days. "If you're going to be this disruptive to my poor neighbors, could you at least pull up your pants a little? Full moon isn't for three more weeks."

Stumbling on his footing, Clint startled and wavered, grabbing the back of his jeans with a sharp pull to stand up for his greeting. Normally he would rush forward for a boisterous, swinging hug, but with his hands covered in dirt and his t-shirt clinging to him in the sweaty heat, you wanted him nowhere near you and he caught the mood right away.

"Hey! I was starting to wonder if you were still coming out?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Running late," you waved dismissively, but when your gaze dropped to your feet, your ruse was over.

"You like the new house I'm making for Dodger? He told Allie that he wants to be outside...more..." Clint stopped in his tracks and looked at you purposefully, studying you. His joy at the sight of you had pacified and when he began to follow the cobblestone walk that he had put down only a few days before, his steps were slow and even over every ridge. "What happened?"

"What?" you shrugged. "I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to. Did you forget who you were talking to?"

"Nothing happened. Not exactly. At least I don't think so...I don't know," you answered with absolutely no ability to convince him, that much you knew before the words were even out. "The kids...they seem different. Just angry all the time. Anthony called Steve a dick-"

"Shut. Up." Clint gasped, dramatically slapping a hand over his mouth. "Hold on. NAAAAAT!" he turned and yelled into the small kitchen window next to him. Her head peeked out within seconds, and you hadn't even heard her approaching; her stealth skills were still very well intact despite turning into the most unlikely stay-at-home mom.

"What the hell are you screaming...oh! Hey, (Y/N)!" she greeted, but her smile dropped right away, much like her husband's had. "What happened?"

"Seriously? You too?"

"Ant called Steve a dick!" Clint announced with the widest grin. "I can't believe we missed it!"

With a groan under your breath, you reached into your pocket to grab your phone, quietly asking FRIDAY for a replay while your two friends went on about what the scene must have been like and how they would have stayed there if they knew that was coming. "Guys," you offered dejectedly, your hand out, "here. FRIDAY caught it all."

Clint took the phone and moved next to the house, stepping up onto a stack of lumber that he had piled for the dog house so that Nat had a good view. Dad! Come on, she wasn't ready! Stop being such a dick! "Oh my god, there it was," he gasped again, still fully disbelieving. "Look at Cap's face. Holy shit, (Y/N), you all got out of that room alive- whoa, did he just say that Steve's an asshole?!"

"Yeah."

Your two friends exchanged cautious glances, a conversation without a sound happening right in front of you, with a content you almost didn't want to know. You could guess what they were thinking anyway; that Steve was going to lose it soon, that Tony must be a terrible influence on the kids, puberty is a bitch, or that there had been just one too many traumas in their young lives and it had finally caught up to them. They were all things that you were thinking already, and it only solidified your resolve to know that they believed the possibilities too.

"What did Strange come up with?" Nat asked hesitantly.

"We haven't heard anything yet. Oh, you guys..." you faded, feeling that damn lump building up in your throat. It wouldn't swallow away, and the burn was now stinging your eyes as the tears came. "Things were good for a while, and I was going to call you to come home...and...and then out of nowhere..."

"Honey, come here," Clint approached, his arms out for you to willingly step into. He glanced back over his shoulder, looking at Nat for a mere second to know what he was about to say next, and that she would fully agree. "We're coming home, and we're going to figure this out together."