CHAPTER TWO —
( I survived World War II. This is nothing. )

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        No one was entirely sure how it happened. One moment, the Avengers were having their regular morning briefing—well, as normal as it could get for Earth's mightiest heroes—and the next, they were all crammed into a battered, overworked minivan, barrelling down a snowy mountain road with Christmas carols blaring cheerfully from the radio. The plan had devolved into a spontaneous winter road trip somewhere between Tony's suggestion of "team bonding" and Clint's offering to drive. Having declared a sudden and dramatic need to "return to his beloved Jane," Thor had taken off with a flash of lightning and a swirl of his cape, leaving the rest of the team to pile into the minivan like overgrown kids on a chaotic family holiday.

The back rows were a mess of tangled limbs, half-empty snack bags, and unapologetic elbowing. Steve's knees were jammed against the seat in front of him. Natasha had claimed the entire third row with the kind of quiet threat that kept everyone from arguing. Tony was somehow in the passenger seat, where he insisted he belonged due to "rank, genius, and superior navigational skills," though he hadn't looked at the GPS once.

"Are we there yet?" Tony asked for the fifth time, dragging out the words in a way that suggested he wanted to be annoying.

"We get there when we get there," Evelyn replied wearily from the middle row, her voice flat with exhaustion.

"Quoting movies again?" Steve asked, glancing over at her with a half-smile.

"Better believe it," she mumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Bored and high on sugar, Tony twisted around in his seat and jabbed Steve in the arm with a sharpened candy cane that Natasha had been whittling to a disturbingly fine point for the last half hour.

In the third row, Natasha didn't even open her eyes. "No stabbing," she said flatly. "Or I drive next time. You don't want that."

Bruce, next to her, let out a slow breath. "She means it."

"I do," Natasha added. "Ask Janet."

"Who's Janet?" Tony asked.

"Exactly."

There was a beat of silence.

Curled beside Steve, Evelyn sighed and nestled into his side, murmuring, "Wake me up when we get somewhere that doesn't smell like candy canes and Tony's ego."

Bruce sighed, resigned. He had long accepted that peace and quiet did not exist on Avengers outings.

Comfortably tucked into Steve's side, Evelyn let out a sleepy hum and closed her eyes. Steve rested his hand on her arm without thinking, thumb brushing lightly along the seam of her jacket.

"Are we there—" Eliza began but was cut off by the sudden engine rev as Clint stomped on the gas pedal with reckless glee.

Everyone was asleep when they arrived—except Clint, who had probably consumed enough Red Bull to qualify as an illegal experiment. He sat behind the wheel humming "Jingle Bell Rock" under his breath like a man on the brink.

"We're here!" Clint announced loudly, his voice cracking like a dad on his fifth hour of a road trip with screaming kids. The Avengers startled awake as one, muscle memory from years of combat kicking in instantly. Hands reached for nonexistent weapons, and eyes snapped open.

"Oh hey, we're here!" Evelyn chirped, stretching as she peeled herself off Steve and rolled out of the car with a thud, landing on the snow-covered ground with a soft crunch.

"Captain America is on my team!" Evelyn and Tony declared in perfect unison. They froze, glaring at each other like two kids fighting over the last slice of cake.

Still eerily quiet, Natasha narrowed her eyes and slinked to stand beside them with catlike grace, a silent signal of allegiance—or threat. It was always hard to tell.

Then, out of nowhere:

"SNOWBALL FIGHT!!!" someone screamed. It might've been Clint. Or Eliza. Or possibly both.

Chaos erupted.

Snowballs soared through the air with surprising accuracy. Steve, surprisingly tactical about it, crouched beside the car and packed snowballs with military precision, his large hands turning them into icy projectiles that could've knocked a person out cold. He bounced them off his shield at ridiculous angles, hitting his targets dead-on with maddening consistency.

Clint had already climbed a nearby tree and was raining snow from above like a holiday-themed sniper.

Evelyn moved fast and mercilessly, targeting everyone but Steve, Clint, and Bruce. Her aim was brutal; her throws fast thanks to her always being cold and her ability to conjure ice out of thin air. It was like watching a snow-themed superhero training montage.

Tony, banned from using any tech to cheat, was decked out in a ridiculous gold motorcycle helmet with a Christmas tree doodled in glittery green Sharpie. He cackled maniacally as he flung hastily formed clumps of snow at anyone nearby, regardless of team allegiance or aim.

Eliza was a disaster. She spent more time shrieking and dodging than actually throwing anything, and when she did attempt to throw a snowball, it usually flopped to the ground like a sad scoop of vanilla ice cream.

"Tis the season to be jolly..." Natasha sang softly in a minor key, sounding like she was narrating a trailer for a psychological thriller. Grinning, she snagged a few snowballs from Steve's pile and casually nailed Bruce, Steve, and Clint in rapid succession—chest, face, and groin. Respectively.

After nearly an hour, the snow battlefield looked like a holiday war zone. Snow drifts were flattened, trees stripped of their icicles, and scorch marks dotted the edges of the clearing for reasons no one could explain.

Now dusted with sparkling snow that made her look like some frostbitten woodland queen, Evelyn stood triumphantly, breath misting in the air.

Bruce and Eliza had long since surrendered and were now huddled in the van, wrapped in blankets and sucking on candy canes, watching the madness through the frosted windows with the dazed look of shell-shocked survivors.

One by one, the others trudged back to the van, soaked, bruised, and grinning. Steve dusted off his coat. Natasha looked entirely untouched, not a hair out of place. Clint's hair was full of twigs and snow, and Tony's boots squelched with each step.

"I'm cold," Tony grumbled, kicking off his boots with a grunt and immediately shoving his freezing toes under Bruce's thighs.

"Me too," Clint muttered. He shook himself like a dog, spraying icy water over everyone within a ten-foot radius.

"I'm not!" Evelyn chirped, skipping toward the van with surprising energy. "Perks of being a frost giant." The team groaned in unison.

"Hot chocolate?" Steve asked hopefully, looking around.

Before anyone could answer, Natasha had already climbed into the front seat, turned the key, and started driving.

"Take that as a yes," Bruce murmured.

"Next time," Tony mumbled, curling into the seat, "we're taking the quinjet."

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        About fifteen minutes later, workers of the nearest town coffee shop watched in awe as the Avengers, Earth's mightiest heroes, drank their way through almost an entire coffee shop worth of hot cocoa. The baristas behind the counter stood frozen, mouths slightly agape, watching as the heroes took over the space like overgrown kids on a sugar high.

"Uh... is this happening?" one of the employees whispered to another, peering at the group over the espresso machine.

"Should we call someone?" the other murmured.

"I think we already did. That's kind of the problem."

At one corner table, Evelyn had declared war on the seasonal menu. She had one hand wrapped around a peppermint hot chocolate, the other cradling a pumpkin spice latte like it was the last warm drink on Earth.

"Why do I have to choose between peppermint and pumpkin?" she grumbled dramatically, taking alternating sips.

Across from her, Steve Rogers abandoned the idea of single servings entirely and calmly sipped from an entire coffee pot pulled of hot chocolate. The staff had hesitated for exactly two seconds before handing it over.

"Is that even safe?" Eliza asked, eyebrows raised as she watched Steve pour a steady stream into a soup bowl.

"I survived World War II," Steve replied. "This is nothing."

At the bar, Natasha and Clint sat shoulder to shoulder, their drinks topped with towers of whipped cream. Nat had ordered a caramel frappuccino, Clint a chocolate one, and they kept casually stealing sips from each other's cups without saying a word.

"Yours is sweeter," Natasha commented, taking a long sip of Clint's. When he didn't reply, she stared at him for a second too long. "Are you okay?"

"No. My spleen still hurts from Evelyn's snowball."

Meanwhile, Tony Stark was sitting with Eliza, hunched over steaming mugs of hot chocolate, giggling like kids left unsupervised at a sleepover. The smell of marshmallows—and something stronger—floated from their table.

"You definitely spiked that," Bruce muttered as he passed, eyeing the suspicious bottle Tony tried (and failed) to hide behind the napkin holder.

"Hot chocolate is a vessel," Tony said with mock solemnity. "And I filled it with joy."

Eliza snorted. "You filled it with bourbon."

"Same thing."

Their laughter echoed off the walls, entirely too loud and completely unbothered.

When the shop began to empty, the tip jar—once filled with spare change and crumpled ones—was overflowing with crisp hundred-dollar bills. No one saw Tony do it. No one needed to. He sipped his hot chocolate innocently and claimed it was Santa.

The staff just stared in disbelief. One barista fanned herself. Another started Googling "Do Avengers do brand partnerships?"

Finally, warm and full and vibrating from sugar, the Avengers made their way back out into the cold. The air had turned crisper and the sky began to turn darker. Snowflakes had started to fall again, gentle and slow.

They paused before the minivan, now dusted with fresh snow and frost.

"Who..." Steve began, squinting at the vehicle with an exhausted dread, "Who's driving home?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Then, as one, every head turned toward Evelyn.

She groaned. "Oh, come on."

"You're the only one not freezing," Clint pointed out helpfully.

"And not tipsy," Bruce added.

"And not whining," Natasha said, sipping her frappuccino without blinking.

Evelyn stared at them all, then up at the sky like she was bargaining with the universe.

"Fine," she huffed. "I'll drive."

The group erupted in cheers. "Shotgun!" Tony yelled, already scrambling toward the passenger door.

"No, Anthony. Steve is," Evelyn shouted after him.

Tony paused, then threw an arm around Eliza. "Back seat buddies?"

Eliza giggled. "Only if we get to control the music."

Evelyn muttered something about gods testing her patience, climbed into the driver's seat, and cranked the heat to full blast.

As the minivan rumbled to life and pulled away from the coffee shop, one of the baristas stepped outside to wave.

"Best. Day. Ever," she whispered.

And the Avengers disappeared back to New York somewhere in the snow-dusted distance, with Michael Bublé blaring from the speakers and six superheroes and one hacker bickering over whether Die Hard counted as a Christmas movie.

AUTHORS NOTE
Just adding a couple of chapters of the Avengers being friends/a family that the MCU failed to give us besides that one scene in AOU :')
Don't forget to like and comment your thoughts
Love Pheebs/-rosepetal