Tony listened to the solider with interest that he didn’t actually show. He had, of course, read about all of the conditions that Steve had suffered from before the super-solder program had changed everything. That knowledge was one of the many reasons that he both respected and loathed the other man.

Anyone who had as many problems as Steve had once suffered from should, by all rights, not be so damn good. Meanwhile Tony had everything, had always been healthy, athletic, and brilliant, and yet would never measure up to the man that floated beside him.

He smirked a little when Steve spoke of playing frisbee on the beach. That was one memory that the soldier had over him. Howard and Maria both had always been too busy, and the nanny had never wanted to do anything but spend her time tanning. The one time the family had gone to the beach together had been for a photoshoot, and that hadn’t ended well at all.

“Anthony, come on! The camera’s ready.”

Looking up from where he was working on steadily building a - rather lopsided - castle in the sand, seven-year old Tony sighed. He hated picture days. He always had to stand so still, in his uncomfortable suit - this time a ridiculous sailor’s outfit that mom had picked. Dad was always grumpy, too, more than usual, and the only time either of his parents would smile was in the few short seconds it took for the picture to be captured.

“Anthony! Now please, darling.”

“Coming, mother!” The child called, leaping up from the sand and running up the beach to where the magazine had set up the area for the shot.

He jogged to his mother’s side, slipping once in the loose sand. Tutting distractedly, Maria quickly brushed the loose strands of hair from his forehead with impatience. Howard appeared behind them, tugging on his tie and grumbling about taking beach photos in full formal wear. Behind the sunshades Howard’s eyes were bloodshot, proof of another night spent drinking.

“Dad?”

Per usual Tony was ignored.

“Dad? Dad!”

“What is it, Anthony?”

“Can we play frisbee after the pictures? Aunt Peggy sent me a cool new one for my birthday!” he announced, referring to the red, white, and blue disk that Peggy had sent him, along with several other small trinkets, nearly all of the Captain America themed. Tony had been fascinated with the soldier ever since the woman had told him all about Steve Rogers’ adventures. “Please, dad? It won’t take long!”

“Sure, sure, Anthony,” the business man replied, waving a hand distractedly as one of the magazine people attempted to add a little power to his nose, ‘to ward off the glare’.

The boy was about to cheer when his father’s eyes, locking onto him for the first time, suddenly narrowed. “What’s that all over your pants?”

Tony frowned in confusion before looking down. His young face paled at the sand that covered his trousers from where he’d been kneeling. He quickly began to brush it off. “I’m sorry, dad! I was playing and I didn’t-”

Howard broke into a string of curses. “Dammit, boy! This shoot is important! What did I tell you about keeping clean? Maria!”

His mother had come back over, tutting again and helping Tony to dust off his pants as best as she could. By the time the picture was taken the child was spotless again, but the damage had been done. As soon as the shoot finished they left the beach, promises of frisbee forgotten.

Shaking his head, Tony came back to the present when Steve commented on the temperature. Vaguely and in the back of his mind he wondered if he still had that frisbee somewhere. Maybe Thor would get a kick out of it.

“Yeah,” he replied distractedly. “I should get started on the burgers anyway.”

Flipping around on his board, Tony began to paddle back towards the shore, not bothering to wait for a wave to ride in on. Bruce and the others were already back on the sand, though Thor could be seen still splashing about in the shallow water.

“MY FRIENDS!” he called as Tony and Steve drew nearer. “YOU MUST COME AND OBSERVE THIS MOST CURIOUS CREATURE.”

Tony rolled his eyes, wondering how on earth a man who could literally cross a rainbow bridge into nine different realms could possibly be so fascinated by what was probably seaweed. “What is it, Thor?” he asked, not actually caring about the reply.

“It appears to be a small gelatinous being, with many stringing tentacles attached,” the god replied.

“Yeah, thats-” Tony began, before something registered in his mind and he blinked. Oh crap. “Thor, I wouldn’t-!”

Too late. With a surprised squeak that was - quite frankly - hilarious coming from the lips of the buffly built god, Thor lifted the disgusting blob from the water, only to fling it back as it’s many stinging tentacles instantly clung to his skin. Squeaking again and pressing his clenched fist to his chest in shock, the god stumbled back away from the jellyfish.

Tony cringed and slipped off his board as they hit the shallows. “Wouldn’t touch that one,” he finished too late.

“That is a most unpleasant beast,” the god muttered unhappily, one hand wrapped protectively around the already reddening other.

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Bruce, who had the heard the cry and the commotion, ran over to the god immediately and examined the hand. He clicked his tongue and ran his thumb over the injury lightly. The god gave a loud howl.

"Shh, shh, Thor." The doctor said a comforting voice as he slipped on his glasses and gave it a closer look. "You're going to be fine, it's not bad. You're lucky the little guy was washed onto the shore. It could have been worse. I have some cream and painkillers in my medical bag. We should head back to the mansion."

Thor sniffled.

"Don't worry, Thor." Steve was suddenly by his side. He clapped a hand on the god's shoulder. "The beach will still be here once doc wraps that hand up for you. Just be careful next time," the captain said kindly.

"Honestly, Thor." Loki strode up to them, his previously miserable expression gone and now replaced with one of condescending mirth. "I wonder if you even possess a form of intelligence these days. The son of Odin making a fool of himself over some moving water and tiny creatures. I'm sure the Allfather would be very proud." Steve opened his mouth to retort, but Natasha beat him to it.

"That's enough, Loki." There was a calm, steeliness in her voice. The younger Asgardian sneered in her direction, but said no more. Thor looked hurt, but allowed Bruce guide him back to the mansion.

“Sir, your surprise has arrived at the front door.”

Tony looked up from the grill to glance back in the general direction of the door. “Ask Natasha to get it, J,” he replied quickly, hoping that the agent would get to the door before someone else - AKA Steve - did. Thankfully everyone but the two agents were on the patio, waiting for Tony to finish with the burgers.

Natasha was JARVIS only knew where and Clint stood over the outdoor stove, stirring a pot of what he swore were the best baked beans that anyone had ever tasted. Apparently the archer was a closet-chef. Go figure.

A few minutes later the female agent appeared, nodding when Tony shot her an inquiring look. Glancing across the floor to the patio she waltzed over to the grill under the pretense of spreading out the plates in anticipation of the burgers. “Are you going to tell him that you really dragged everyone out here just for his birthday?” she asked calmly, arching an eyebrow in question. She had been suspicious of Tony’s reasons for the team get-away since the start, and now that she knew the truth behind the playboy’s offer of a beach weekend she had to admit that she was impressed. Though their relationship was occasionally somewhat strained thanks to the circumstances behind their first meeting, she had to admit that she liked Tony. Not that she would show it any more than Stark himself would admit to liking her.

Her lips turned up in a surprisingly soft and amused smile when Tony only blushed and got flustered. “No.”

“Don’t you think he’ll get a bit suspicious when you bring out the cake?”

“That’s from Pepper,” Tony insisted instantly, referring to the specially ordered cake that had just arrive, the ‘surprise’. “I had nothing to do with it.”

Shaking hear head, Natasha took the first to plates, now sporting burgers, in hand. “You don’t always have to pretend, Tony,” she commented as she turned away. “That’s what got you in trouble the first time we met, remember?”

“Says the spy with all the secrets,” Tony replied without malice. He flipped the rest of the burgers onto the plates and snatched them all up, just in time to see Clint making his way to the table with a huge dish of beans to go with the other sides. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” he added. “He’d probably just think I have some ulterior motive.”

“Do you?”

Tony chose not to grace that question with an answer.

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Meanwhile, Steve was completely oblivious to what conversation was going on inside. He found that he quite enjoyed the beach, especially when it was quiet and the sun was just beginning to set. Though he didn't mind being around the rest of the group --in fact, he was beginning to rather like their company-- he needed some time to himself before dinner.

The soldier continued to walk along the stretch of sand, walking close enough to the water so that the waves washed over his feet and retreated in a light, white foam. As he shoved his hands in his pockets, he sighed.

"Steve?"

The young, blond-haired boy looked up from his drawing and dropped his crayon in surprise. He scrambled to his feet and wiped his hands on his trousers.

"Mama!" Steve stared at the cake presented before him with wide eyes. The tiny flames danced happily before him, setting his face aglow as he bent in to take a closer look. "Did you make this?"

Sarah Rogers smiled and pulled the cake back a little. "Now don't catch on fire, young man. We don't want to be havin' to take you to the hospital on your birthday now, do we?" Steve shook his head, his face breaking into a grin. "Now why don't you get your Pa so we can cut your cake and go see the fireworks?"

"Fireworks?" The newly six year-old boy looked as though he was going to pass out from excitement. They didn't go out often, despite the fact that he was always insisting that he was fine. His mother liked to take extra precautions about his health because they barely got by as it was due to his expensive medication. Sarah smiled and set the cake down.

"You can go up to the top of the hill after dessert. We'll all go together. After all, today is a special day. For you and for America." She ruffled his hair.

Steve eyed the cake, then glanced at the hallway behind him.

"Go on, then. Get your Pa out here." Sarah laughed as the boy darted through the hallway. Within seconds, he burst through his parents' bedroom breathlessly.

"Pa! Pa!" He flicked the light on, but stopped short. His heart dropped when he saw two broken bottles on the floor and the silhouette of his crouched father in the wooden chair by the window. He stepped inside tentatively. Suddenly, his father's eyes flickered towards him.

"What is it, son?" He slurred. He held an almost-empty bottle in one hand. Upon Steve's silence, he took a swig from it and narrowed his eyes. "Well?"

"Pa," The boy said in a small voice. He swallowed. "M-Mama made a cake." He tried to look away from the drink, but he couldn't. Ever since Steve's condition got worse, the medical bills had gone through the roof, thus triggering Joseph Rogers' spiral into depression.

"She made you a cake, did she?" Joseph hiccuped. "I'm your Pa and I don't even have two quarters to rub together to get you a nice toy. How old are you? Four?"

Steve looked down at his feet.

"Six, sir."

Joseph suddenly slammed the bottle down on the arm of the rocking chair. Steve jumped and instinctively stepped back.

"Six and you're already a runt of a child. It's my fault. I'm a failure. Raising my boy to grow up and be a damned scrawny rat. Probably die by the time you're five."

Steve swallowed.

"I-I'm six-"

"-can't even pay the damned bills. Trying to save a dying boy and my wife goes off and spends money to make you a cake. What kind of woman does she think she is-"

"-that's enough!"

Steve spun around. He was shaking so hard that he hadn't even realized his mother had been right behind him.

"-how dare you talk to our son like that? He's only a child!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing, spending my hard-earned money without my permission? Steve isn't going to die of no cake, you stupid-"

"-don't you dare talk to me about how to raise-"

"-day in and day out I have to support-"

"-your money on cheap liquor and I can't spend-"

Steve was running away before he even realized that he had left the bedroom. He sprinted as fast as his little legs could carry him, past the kitchen and cake, and out the back door and over the fence. He ran until he felt as though his lungs would burst out of his chest. Finally, he collapsed onto the wet grass and let the tears escape. He didn't dare cry in front of his father. He couldn't bear to hear his Pa call him a cry baby on top of everything else. He was right. Steve was weak.

Suddenly, a loud booming noise exploded in the air, forcing the little boy to stumble to his feet again. As he tilted his face towards upwards, bright red and blue fireworks burst in the night sky, taking his breath away again. Slowly, he sank back down the grass and pulled his knees towards his chest. Alone on his birthday and seeing the fireworks for the first time. He buried his face into his hands and willed the tears to go away. There was no sense in feeling sorry for himself. He would show him someday. He would prove to his Pa that next year, on his birthday, he could be a son that a father could be proud of.

But he never got the chance to hold to this promise.

Because a month later, Joseph Rogers passed away.

"Steve!"

The soldier jerked out of his daydream and turned to see Bruce waving from the front porch. It was time for dinner. Steve smiled and raised a hand to acknowledge that he got the message.

"Happy Birthday, Steve." He murmured to himself as he began his walk across the sand and back to the mansion.

Bruce, who had ever so sneakily been watching since the solider had gone off, finally turned back to the table. Out of the group he best understood the need for solitude and had intended to make sure that no one bothered the other man, though he also spent his time spying to make sure that Steve was alright.

Maybe Tony was right and Bruce really was the Mother-Hen of the group.

As he and Natasha set the plates out on the table Tony watched out of the corner of his eye as Steve walked back up the beach. He debated for a moment calling the next phase of the surprise off - not that it could in any way be traced back to him. How would anyone know that the yearly fireworks display for Malibu had been moved last-minute to a location more easily seen from the beach-side mansion, per request of an anonymous donor who paid for the whole thing? Well, Natasha might, but there was apparently no hiding anything from that woman.

As everyone settled down - Thor taking a burger inside to the sulking Loki before returning to the table with the rest of them - Tony waited with well-hidden anxiety for everyone to try their food. It had been ages since he’d grilled anything - thankfully he had a half-dozens pizzas on backorder just in case.

Biting into his sandwich Bruce chewed thoughtfully before his eyes lit up. “Wow, Tony,” he teased, playing surprised. “This is great. I thought Pepper was just exaggerating.”

“This is indeed a delicious burger of ham,” Thor added in around a mouthful of food. Somebody was going to have to sit the god down and give him a lesson in Midgardian table manners some day.

“Not bad, Stark,” Clint agreed.

Tony rolled his eyes, stuffing a bite of his own burger into his mouth and pretending to be insulted. “Ye of little faith,” he chided. “I told you I was a master at the grill.”

Clint snorted, Nat rolled her eyes, and Thor just grinned and took another enormous bite. In hindsight Tony probably should have made a few extras just for the god.

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Steve took a bite out of his burger and raised his eyebrow before washing it down with a sip of water.

"I have to hand it to you, Stark. This isn't terrible." There was a touch of playfulness in his voice. No one noticed the look that passed between Natasha and Thor. The god grinned with lettuce in his teeth and continued to devour his meal.

"Who made the beans?" Bruce poked at them with his fork.

"I did." Clint said proudly. Natasha shot him a sideways glance.

"Show-off."

"Am not!" The archer pouted childishly. Natasha smirked.

"Well, they're good." Steve complimented. "I'm going to get another glass of water. Anyone want anything?" When the rest of the group shook their heads (except for Thor, who was too busy scraping the rest of his beans into his mouth), the captain left the table and moved into the kitchen.

"So." Natasha looked at the playboy, tilting her head slightly. "When do the rest of us get to see what was in the package?"

"What package?" Clint looked from his partner to Tony, his brow furrowed.

Tony choked on a bite of burger, glaring at Natasha while Bruce beat him on the back. As he wiped his mouth on a napkin, obviously stalling, Banner shared a questioning look with Clint. “What package, Agent Romanova?”

Natasha simply quirked an eyebrow and held Tony’s gaze, a small smile pulling at her lips. Tony made a face that was impossible to describe, something between ‘I can’t believe you’re cruel enough to do this I should strangle you world-class assassin or no’ and ‘oh my god why did I do this to myself’.

The ‘package’ was for after dinner, he thought to himself, so it might not hurt to bring it out now. Get the worst over with, as it were. “Now would be good,” he announced, refusing to be unnerved by the look at the female agent was giving him, something like twisted amusement at his expense. He rose to gather up the plates. “Why don’t you get it, since you’re so eager,” he suggested to Natasha. Maybe - if he were feeling especially awkward, which he was - he could be hiding out in the kitchen under the pretense of doing... something, when she brought it out. Then later he could just insist that Pepper had sent it over and all would be well.

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Natasha's face was blank for a moment, then she stood up slowly and moved behind Tony. She placed one hand on either side of the back of his chair and lowered her head until her mouth was right next to his ear.

"How about I get the Captain, and you grab the package?" And with that, she stepped back, leaving the playboy no choice but to get the box himself. The agent shot a warning look at the rest of the group, making it clear that if anyone let Tony bully them, they would have her to answer to. And with that, she walked out of the dining and into the kitchen.

"Steve?" She poked her head inside, finding the soldier standing by the counter with a large glass of water in his hand. He turned, looking surprised.

"Yeah?"

Natasha folded her arms over her chest, but there was a slight smile on her lips.

"Come on, the others are waiting for you in the dining room." Steve blinked.

"What for?"

Natasha said nothing, but merely stepped aside to let the very confused captain exit the kitchen.

It was revenge. Obviously Natasha was trying to get back at him for something that he didn’t recall doing. Be that as it may Tony was stuck and he knew it.

Fine, two could play at this game.

Waltzing into the kitchen to put the plates in the sink, Tony didn’t so much as blink when Steve walked past him on the way back outside. He did, however, shoot a mildly annoyed glance that didn’t even begin to cover his frustration at Natasha, who hung in the doorway to ensure that he didn’t sneak away and lock himself in the workshop.

Sliding the probably too-massive box for the equally massive cake out of the pantry where Natasha had wisely stored it, Tony grinned smugly at the agents as he crossed the kitchen again. It wasn’t an elaborate dessert, since he’d only ordered it yesterday morning after everyone had agreed to come. He hadn’t been able to decided on an age: 92 seemed kind of like a cruel joke but 22 didn’t seem right either, so he’d settled on a simple “Happy Birthday, Steve!” in blue icing instead. The rest of the cake was all reds, whites, and blues, with tiny American flag candies and a custom-made candle in the shape of Steve’s shield perched in the top right corner.

“Can you at least grab the beer or do I have to carry that too?” he quipped, walking past Natasha again and heading for the table. He refused to feel awkward as he walked out, ignoring the sudden grins on both Thor and Bruce’s faces as he set the cake down right in front of a shell-shocked Steve.

Stepping back he cleared his throat. “I’m not going to sing, so don’t ask,” he announced, the closest to an actual ‘Happy Birthday’ that Steve was likely to get from him.

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"I..." There was a cake. Somehow, Steve was having trouble comprehending this, because he stared at the cake for a very long time with a perplexed expression before finally managing to utter a few more incoherent phrases. "But... I don't..."

"This Midgardian treat you have brought us is very pleasing to look at, Stark. I like it immensely." Thor reached over the table and stuck his finger in the frosting, dragging a clean line across the cake and knocking over the shield-shaped candle as he did so. He licked his finger, eyes bright. "It has come to my attention that today is a celebration of your birth, Rogers." He grinned, thrusting his now-sticky hand out towards Steve. "Happy euphoric day of existence."

The soldier would have taken the hand if he wasn't still shocked by the cake.

"But... how did you...?"

"It wasn't that difficult to find out, Cap." Natasha supplied. For a moment, it seemed as though she had felt sorry for Tony, but like true Romanova fashion, she was merely feigning her sympathy for the playboy. She looked in his direction and raised an eyebrow. "But Tony bought the cake."

Now Steve looked appalled, as if he had lost the ability to speak all together. His face was turning slightly red from the attention, but he suddenly gave a tiny, embarrassed smile. He couldn't help but feel touched by it all, especially because it had been from Tony. He looked up towards the inventor, as if to confirm Natasha's assertion.

Tony was finding some amusement in Steve’s obvious embarrassment. It was both funny and strangely depressing to see the man so shocked by such a pointless gesture. Honestly it was just a cake and a remembered birthday. Tony didn’t know what the big deal was. People had them all the time.

When Natasha - traitor that she was - attempted to place the blame for the cake on him, however, he shook his head in forceful denial. “Pepper,” he informed the soldier quickly. “I had nothing to do with it. Unless you count the fact that she probably used my card to pay for it, because then I guess you could technically say it was from me. But not really.”

“Are you quite certain, Stark?” Thor asked, frowning in probably put-on confusion. “I was quite certain that I overheard you asking your JARVIS to find a place of service to create such a delicacy but yesterday.”

Tony’s teeth ground together and he could feel a blush creeping up his neck. “Whatever. Can we eat the cake or are we just going to stand here?” he quipped, dropping into his seat and pointedly ignoring everyone as he leaned across the table to set the candle back up and light it. “There. Make a wish,” he said with a playful smirk.

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Steve stared at the candle for moment. This was more than anything he could have ever imagined. But as he sat there, watching the expecting faces around him, he realized that though he had told himself he had wanted his birthday to go by unnoticed, the young six year-old boy in him still held a tiny flicker of hope that someday someone would notice and wish him a happy birthday. He swallowed, trying come up with something to wish for, but he could think of nothing. He was happy, and that was more than Steve needed.

With a quirky smile, he blew out the candles.

"Don't ask what he wished for." Natasha cut Thor off as he opened his mouth excitedly. The god looked crestfallen. Steve chuckled and threw an arm over his shoulder.

"It's all right, Thor. I'll tell you later."

The god brightened at this and carefully handed him the large knife on the table. Steve began to cut the cake as neatly as possible, reserving the largest piece for Thor, since the god seemed to have a healthy appetite for desserts.

"This looks great, Tony." The soldier said as he handed him a plate. "Tell ah, Pepper I said thanks."

“Yep,” Tony replied. He knew that Steve knew, but it was so much less awkward to pretend that none of them knew anything. He bit into the chocolate cake with relish; it was from one of the best bakeries the area had to offer. He hadn’t had a clue what flavor Steve would prefer so he’d gone with a basic half-and-half vanilla/chocolate mix. Hopefully it would satisfy.

If the way Thor was inhaling his oversized slice was any indication it was going over just fine. And at least they wouldn’t be able to blame the fireworks on him. Thank god for city displays.

Once everyone had finished with the cake Bruce quickly stacked the plates, shooting Tony amused looks the whole time. The playboy pointedly ignored them and instead focused on the time. The display was supposed to begin any minute, provided of course they were on time.

Thor was entertaining Steve and the others with some story or other. Tony had stopped listening after he heard something about ‘Bilgesnipe’. Not a moment too soon in the playboy’s opinion, the tale was interrupted by a bright explosion of color that filled the sky. Finally.

“What is this?” Thor asked, staring in fascination as the lights filled the sky.

“Fireworks display,” Tony answered nonchalantly. “For the Fourth.”

“Doesn’t Malibu usually have the show a little further south from here?” Bruce asked, giving Tony a knowing glance.

Tony shrugged. “Guess they moved it.”

“Fireworks,” Thor repeated thoughtfully. Then his face burst into a beaming grin. “I see! This too is your doing, Stark. I recall that you spent many minutes on the flight speaking with someone concerning a display. Is this what you meant? Well done. It is most entertaining.”

Tony gave a weak attempt at denial. “I didn’t-”

“I heard that, too,” Clint said, finally catching on to what the others were all up to. “You asked them to move the show to a boat out in the bay.”

Eyes slipping closed in resignation Tony just opted to surrender and ignore them all. See if he ever did anything nice ever again.

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If it was any consolation, Steve wasn't really paying attention to what was going on behind him. Instead, he took a step closer to the view and watched as the colorful sparks lit up the sky. He exhaled, flashing back to the memory of his sixth birthday and the first time he had seen fireworks on July 4th. He swallowed again, feeling a tear stinging in his eye. Natasha sidled up to him, touching his arm lightly. She smiled.

"Happy birthday, Cap."

Steve looked down at her and returned her smile. He gave her a brief, one-armed hug.

"Thanks."

"So, Rogers!" Clint called out from behind them. "Since most of us didn't know it was your birthday and ah, skimped up on the traditional present bit, is there anything you particularly want? We can dunk Loki in the bathtub until he sings you happy birthday, if you'd like." The archer grinned. "With his safety in mind, of course." He added when Thor came within earshot.

The soldier looked thoughtful for a minute, then turned back around towards the ocean and yanked his shirt off.

"Everyone in the water! Last person in has to give Loki his sponge bath tonight!" And with that, he tore off towards the waves.

Tony, Bruce, and Clint all shared a look, each sizing the other up. Thor, horrified at the mere mention of such a task - though he knew that Steve couldn’t possibly be serious - had already bolted, as had Natasha. With sudden franticness the other three did the same, Clint diving over the railing into the sand below while Tony and Bruce took the safer way via the stairs.

All three tumbled into the waves at close to the same time, crashing into one another and dropping headlong and fully clothed into the surf. They came up sputtering and laughing.

The only light came from the fireworks, the house, and Tony’s reactor.

“Looks like you lose, Barton,” Tony gasped, soaking wet and grinning like a child as he sloshed up the sand a little to sit in the shallows.

Clint shook his head vehemently, flinging water from his hair. “No way, Stark. I beat you and Banner both by a mile!”

“I don’t know, I think maybe I beat both of you,” Bruce replied, pulling off his glasses, which he hadn’t had the time to remove.

“Please, Banner, we all know I won,” Tony replied. “You two should just accept defeat graciously. I’ll have JARVIS find you some sponges.”

“Whatever. What do you think, Cap?” Clint demanded, flopping back into the waves and contentedly floating on his back. He didn’t actually care for an answer as they all became momentarily distracted by the display, now reaching a climax as the ski filled with a least two dozen firecrackers, twirlers, screamers, and more, bright enough to light up the beach for several seconds.

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"I think all three of you should bathe the guy." Steve lounged back as well and kicked his feet up. "I'll buy dinner next week if you manage to get out of it alive and with minimal scrapes." Natasha snorted.

"That's unlikely."

"How's your hand, Thor?" Bruce swam towards the god, who was paddling towards the deeper end. When he saw that Bruce had caught him trying to wander off, he looked guilty and retreated back to the group.

"It's faring quite well, Doctor Banner. Thank you very much for healing it."

"It was my pleasure, Thor." Bruce replied kindly.

"Man, it must be life, having this view whenever you wanted to." Clint gave a low whistle. "Say Stark, wanna lend me the mansion for, I don't know, a couple years? Maybe you could get fireworks to explode for me too." He chuckled.