Steve groaned as he unfolded himself from his motorcycle. It had been a long mission, longer than he would've liked. He was bruised, battered, and grumpy- well, as grumpy as he could get, which really just meant he was slightly less likely to smile. But more importantly, the mission had run an extra day, which meant his debriefing had run most of the day, which meant he had missed movie night.
He slung his army- standard duffel bag over his shoulder and headed to the elevator. Stark had put in keycodes to get to different levels of Avenger Tower- only the Avengers and a few others could get into the top floors, where their living quarters were. They hadn't been in the tower for long- just a few months- but already, it's become their home. They'd learned each other's habits and needs, who was good at cooking (Bruce, Steve, Clint, Sam) and who would burn the tower down (Stark, Thor), who could do laundry (Steve) and who would turn everything red (Stark), who was a morning person (Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint) and who would murder someone if they were awakened before 9 a.m. (Stark, Darcy). Not only did the once-scattered heroes have a home, but they had something of a family.
The elevator played music on the way up now, another recent addition. Steve recognized the pop song everyone hated- 'Friday'. He guessed Stark had put it in to irritate everyone.
He wondered where they would be when he got up. It was movie night, but they would be long asleep at this point- it was almost 1 a.m. They should be in bed, but ten to one, they would be sprawled across the couches, sleeping on top of each other.
The elevator dinged, and the doors glided open. And sure enough, there were the earth's mightiest heroes, asleep on the couch in front of the home screen of 'The Court Jester'.
Steve smiled to himself, walking up to stand behind the largest of the couches. Someone had evidently been awake enough to mute the movie, because the theme was no longer playing. The glow of the TV lit the room a little, showing the wreck that was his team.
Thor was out cold in one of the big armchairs. Jane's legs lay across his lap, her head was on his shoulder, snoring softly. Opposite them, in the other big armchair, was Darcy. She was curled, cat-like, in the middle of the seat, barely taking up any of the spacious room. Meanwhile, Sam had fallen asleep leaning against her chair. His head had fallen back toward the ceiling, and he was drooling just a little. Bruce was sprawled on the floor in front of the big couch, where Tony and Pepper had fallen asleep in the classic movie-goers pose- Tony's arm around Pepper, and her head on his chest. He had rested his head on top of hers, his legs sprawling onto the automan in front of him. What really killed him, though, were the master assassins on the other end of the couch. Natasha was resting her right arm on the arm of the couch, her head in her right hand. The other was resting on Clint's chest. The archer had his head in her lap, his face buried in her stomach. His left arm was bent back, brushing Natasha's side, and his right hand was covering her left on his chest.
Yes, Steve thought, these are the people who fight the deadliest threats. A bunch of cuddlers.
He sighed, but smiled. They would sleep late the next morning, and when they finally woke each other up, they'd wander into the kitchen to find him making breakfast, and he'd show them the sketch he had done of them snuggled together. But for now, he left them sleep, the world's mightiest heroes at peace.