The Quinjet carrying the Winter Soldier touched down on the rooftop landing pad of what was now being called Avengers Tower. Steve and Sam had returned to the Tower only an hour before; true to his word, JARVIS had taken just over three hours to download the data from the computers at Camp Lehigh.
Steve stepped into Tony’s main lab still bloodied and bruised; he hadn’t bothered to clean up after the alley fight, he’d just dragged Sam with him to the lab where JARVIS said he was currently working. The music was deafening, but at least it sounded more like music that the stuff Tony normally listened to.
They were staying in, ostensibly to watch a movie and further Steve’s education on the 20th century, but it was like he was reading her mind, because as soon as she’d walked in, he’d sensed her mood and shelved those plans. So, instead of a movie, JARVIS had put on some music and Steve had made coffee.
Steve skirted the edge of the mat in Tony’s ridiculous gym, his eyes never leaving Natasha Romanov as she mirrored his every move.
Steve Rogers stood at the counter of the Starbucks, staring at the menu above him. It honestly confounded him how complicated even coffee had become in the modern world. “I just want a black coffee, please,” he said to the young woman behind the counter.
Maria Hill sat alone in the dark, dingy bar down an alley in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, nursing the one drink she’d allowed herself. Whiskey neat, because it was that kind of day.
The battle with the Chitauri may be over, but there’s another battle looming, and this time the outcome is less certain. Steve Rogers just wants a chance to figure out this new century, and maybe go out on a date with his girl. Too bad the gods aren’t quite done with him yet.