Getting the Avengers together as a group in any idea of organization or timeliness was a battle that you had finally given up on after years of struggle. It just wasn't worth it anymore. Even if you told them that departure was hours before it was really scheduled, you somehow still ended up being late to everything.

"You guys, this is like herding cats, I swear. How is it so frustratingly impossible for a group as coordinated as you all, to get onto a plane at the same time? If this were a mission you'd be gone already."

"Sorry, (Y/N), it's a rare occurrence for every one of us to travel at the same time," Thor shrugged, throwing suitcases into the jet with far too much enthusiasm and no care as to where they landed. "This is a great deal of togetherness for us."

"We must also take care to consider the weight of passengers, their luggage requirements, equal storage distribution when loading the plane, and coordinate the most efficient method of deplaning at our arrival location," Vision added with a nod, satisfied in the thoroughness of his response and thought into a well-planned flight.

"That still doesn't explain why you're all late getting to the hangar bay, genius," you scoffed, nudging him with your elbow. "Everything you've mentioned takes place after everyone gets here on time, as if that would have ever happened." You glanced around the room, finding one particular person far later than the rest, though you weren't all that surprised.

"Where's Stark?"

"He told me to let you know that he's flying in on his own," Steve replied, pausing to give you a quick kiss as he arrived with your luggage.

With a shake of your head, you sighed and took your bag from Steve to bring it to your seat, strapping yourself into the harness when he finally dropped into the seat next to you. "He isn't using the suit for some dumb party trick is he? Did Chris ask him to do that?"

"No, I just think that he doesn't want to be sardined in this tin can with the rest of us."

You pulled out your phone and shot a quick text to Evans to let him know that the team was about to leave so that he could meet you at the airport, even though you had told him several he didn't have to. "Hey, Clint? You have the clearance to land at LAX, right?" There was a long pause that made your stomach turn with each passing second. "Right?"

"Uh...yeah..." he stammered coyly from the pilot seat, "was I supposed to do that? I thought you did."

"I swear I'm nothing more than a mother without actual children," you groaned. "Yeah, Barton, I've got it."

~~~

After the cramped flight that was packed so tight that it had you questioning just how close you really were to the team, the ride to Chris' house was much more comfortable and civilized. He insisted that he pick you and Steve up on his own, with the rest of the team piling into limos lined up at the gate. As each Avenger left the jet, flashes and waves came from the airport windows, their fans anxious to get a glimpse of every one of them.

"Should we go in?" Steve asked. "We probably have a little time to do some pictures."

"Sweetie, unless you called ahead and set up proper security with the airport, no. I feel pretty safe in assuming that you didn't, since we just barely got permission to land here in the first place." You stood next to him and pushed up on your toes to kiss his cheek, pausing to wipe the lipstick away that you had left behind. "You're really thoughtful though, Steve. I'll see if I can arrange a quick appearance before we leave in a couple days, okay?"

"Thanks, doll, I think it would be a nice thing to do."

"Hey, old man! It's about time you showed up!"

Steve released you and spun to see the owner of the familiar voice, an instant smile spreading across his face at the sight of his friend. "Listen here, junior. I'm gonna teach you some respect yet," he joked, pulling Chris into a small hug with a slap to his back. "You're just pissed because even at my age I look so much better than you."

"Pfft, whatever. You're still old, Cap. You can't argue with a calendar." He released Steve and reached out for your hand, pulling you in next for a hug and a kiss to your cheek. "Hey, Mrs. America, how have you been...wait," he paused, holding your hands but pushing you away just slightly. "Did you do something different? You change your hair?"

"No, nothing different. Just exhausted from coordinating the Avenger rodeo and the long flight."

"Well then, let's get you back to my place, hot stuff," he smirked, clearing his throat nervously when Steve yanked you from his grip. "I was joking, Steve," he quickly retorted with his hands raised, "I've got a photo shoot in two days so hit below the face!"

"You're lucky it's your birthday, smartass," your husband growled, leading you to the car with Chris quickly chasing behind. Once inside, Steve held out his arm for you to lean against him. You really were feeling exhausted, but with his welcoming embrace and with your head resting on his shoulder, you began to drift in and out of sleep during the drive. "Hey, who all are you expecting at the party tomorrow?" Steve whispered.

"The usual," Chris replied quietly, glancing back at you in his rearview mirror, "Lizzy, Cobie and Hemsworth are out filming, so they can't make it, and Renner has to leave early. Otherwise everyone else should be there."

~~~

"Come on, Chris, you have to do this," Sebastian pushed, "we could totally mess with (Y/N)! Just shave it off!"

"I have a shoot in two days and I don't wanna look like Cap for it," he whined with a building slur in his words, holding the razor a few inches from his face.

Bucky stood at his other side, anxiously watching the door in case Steve should pass by and ruin their plans to prank you. "This is why you gave him that Patriots cap, remember? We don't have time to bleach your hair."

"Why can't you guys do it instead?"

"How drunk are you?" Bucky laughed, holding up his metal arm, "I think convincing Seb to get one of these is taking the joke a little bit too far. This is just facial hair, you big pussy. Shave it off!"

Seb leaned in closer and nudged Chris, giving him a lazy grin, "maybe she'll kiss ya by mistake, huh? There's incentive."

"Yeah, that's perfect," Chris scoffed, "I'll just do the shoot looking like Cap with a huge black eye. Maybe this time he could knock out a few teeth, just for sport." He closed his eyes tightly and let out a long groan as the razor lifted to his skin, clearing away the one thing that would distinguish him from Steve. "This is gonna backfire so hard, you guys. I'm just full of fucking great ideas."

~~~

Once Bucky was able to drag Steve away from you, Chris decided to make his entrance back into the party to test his new look. His eyes darted nervously around the room to find you, feeling his heart begin to pound when he saw you standing with Robert, Thor and Tony at the bar. Forcing himself to take that first definitive step, he began to make his way towards your group. "Hey, beautiful," he said with a slight tremble in his voice, "how about a dance?" 'You're an actor, Evans. Just act like Cap,' he thought to himself as you gently laid your hand in his.

"Sure, sweetie," you replied, pulling him in close and turning back to the bar, "just let me grab a quick drink first. You want anything?" You leaned back into him, bringing one arm back to wrap around him and just graze over his butt. You felt him jolt at the sensation and laughed to yourself while the bartender poured your drink.

"No," he coughed, straightening the cap on his head with the worry that he might be given away and that Steve was about to knock his lights out because you had touched him. "Nothing for me, thanks."

"I don't know why we let Rogers drink anyway," Tony said, grabbing an ice cube from his glass and popping it into his mouth, "it's just a waste of good liquor, really."

"Thor, maybe you wanna..." Robert suggested, pointing at the vial of mead in his hand.

"No!" Chris protested, "no, that was a fucking terrible night. I don't want to do that again any time soon!"

You gave Downey a quick wink and took your glass, but before it could reach your lips, Wanda appeared and took it from you. "I don't think you should drink that, (Y/N)." When you looked at her with surprise and now completely confused, she was quick to reply with what sounded like a rehearsed answer. "I know a drink that I think you would enjoy much more. Go dance with...Steve...and I'll make it for you."

Chris pulled you to the center of the room and began to dance, turning you and spinning you around him, pulling you tightly to his chest and then dipping you back. When the song changed, you weren't sure if he would continue, but he wasn't ready to let you go just yet, enjoying the chance to have a few minutes of fun. The more he moved and spun you around him, the hotter you began to feel, and you quickly decided that you need a break. With one last twirl, you stopped to face him, but without warning, you doubled over and threw up all over his feet.

"Oh, shit, Chris," you panted, "I'm so sorry. I'll buy you new shoes."

He reacted immediately, swinging an arm under your leg and another around your back, carrying you to a nearby couch. "Can someone grab a cold towel and her actual husband please?" He adjusted the cushion under your head and pushed your hair gently from your face, looking at you will an expression full of concern. "When did you know it was me?" he asked, hoping to distract you from what your stomach was doing to you, and that fact that everyone was now crowded around you.

"You jumped when I touched your butt," you chuckled weakly, "and then you swore and Steve can't dance." He smiled back at you, taking a towel from Scarlett to lay gently over your forehead. Tony was standing near your feet, looking at you suspiciously as if he were examining you like one of his science projects.

"Hey, (Y/N), are you knocked up or something?"

"What?! No, Tony, I'm not."

Wanda appeared at your side with a worried Steve, holding a glass of water for you between her trembling hands. "Here, darling. I think you will like the drink I've made for you much more than the other." You took it from her slowly, staring at her and wordlessly asking for an explanation, though she was giving you nothing more than a smile that carried every answer you needed.

"Or...maybe I am?"