#says he’d rather work on the living room floor which is the lowest priority

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

Brb gotta just yell into the void

[splat-dragon]

I'm on my way Home sweet home ~Home Sweet Home, Motley Crue

It had taken nearly four years, but finally they were coming home.

 Not without a lot of concessions, granted, but they were going home. Stark had finally gotten over himself and let Bucky use B.A.R.F (Steve was certain that the man had had the technology for longer than he’d said he had, but in the end Bucky had finally had his triggers removed and had come out of Cryo, so he’d put that as one of the lowest priority things he needed to talk to Tony about), worked to get them pardoned and brought back.

 The UN had seen their mistakes, had locked up Ross in the very prison he’d locked them up in, though sadly hadn’t collared him as he’d done to Wanda—considering he had no powers to mute, there was no point to it. Still, though Steve didn’t usually care for revenge, he wished nothing more than to see Ross restrained and collared like he deserved.

 They’d been made to sign the Accords, though, and he chafed for it. The UN, despite seeing their mistakes, hadn’t been willing to tear them up completely, not after having already had so many superhumans sign them, having so many already under their thumbs. He’d tried to read them really, he had, but they’d been written to confuse them, so full of legalese, and though he’d asked his legal representative, Tony had assigned him one who wasn’t willing to work with him, the woman had only confused him further. But he’d understood enough, that they weren’t as bad as the ones he’d fought so hard against, and the one thing he had understood was that it was still possible to make changes, so along with the others he had signed and been allowed onto the Quinjet headed back to New York.

“Where the hell is Stark?” Clint grumbled, crossing his arms, and out of habit Steve said

 “Language,”

 though he’d gotten more than used to the language Clint and, to some extent, Wanda, tended to spit when it came to Tony. It was something they’d need to work on, now that they were a team again, but he did agree with them, though he didn’t have a chance to say anything before Wanda was providing her own two cents, “We’re not worth his time, don’t you know that Clint? Mr. High and Mighty can’t be bothered to pick us up himself.”

 They’d arrived on the tarmac to find a handful of nondescript black cars waiting for them, an unfamiliar woman in a grey pantsuit standing flanked by a handful of men and women, all in the same uniform. For a long moment, it had felt like a trap, and magic began to unfurl from Wanda’s hands in red flames, Clint had reached for a bow that wasn’t there, Natash for the empty holsters on her hips—they’d been made to hand in their weapons on the Quinjet—until she stepped forward and introduced herself as Henrietta Rask, their representative among the Avengers Counsel.

 “Representative?” Steve had asked, and she’d asked if he’d read the Accords, looking like she couldn’t decide if he was dumb or just plain stupid when he’d explained that he’d skimmed them, on account of them being too confusing, but that he understood the basic idea. So she’d said that she’d explain once they were in the car-it was a decent drive. Which was… strange, considering that the Tower wasn’t far from where they’d landed at all, but they just assumed the woman didn’t know what she was talking about, her identification had checked out after all.

 She was finishing up some paperwork with the people with her (S.W.O.R.D., the organization that was replacing SHIELDRA, agents), leaving them to talk. Natasha and Clint were going in one car, Scott and Wanda in the second, Sam and Bucky in another (Steve was not happy about that, but Henrietta had reminded him that he had needed some things clarified, so he’d acquiesced), and Steve with Henrietta in the last.

Steve was not a happy man, and Henrietta was not a happy woman. As it turned out, it was her job to be the go-between for them and the Avengers Counsel (as he should have guessed, really, what else would a ‘representative’ be?). Anything they needed, they told her, and she’d pass it on. Any complaints would be passed on, or requests. He’d nearly blown a gasket when he’d said ‘but that’s Tony’s job!’ because it was, when they needed something they told JARVIS, or whatever Tony had built now that JARVIS was the Vision, or Tony himself, and she’d told him again that it was no longer Tony’s job, but the Avengers Counsel’s.

 He wasn’t happy, but he shook his head and went along with it, adding that to the list of things he needed to talk to Tony about. It wasn’t the woman’s fault that Tony had her hoodwinked, too.

The drive led them to the parts of New York that were more open, sprawling, where they saw more trees than buildings, and at a red-light he caught Scott looking at him from his car’s rear-view mirror, his confusion echoed on the younger man’s face. Though Lang had never been to the Avenger’s Tower, it was impossible to miss, and the entire world knew where it was. And out here it was not.

 “Where are we going,” Steve demanded, turning to Henrietta—while the ‘Avengers Counsel’ wasn’t her fault, bringing them out into the middle of nowhere wasn’t funny, and if it was Tony’s idea of a prank, it wasn’t a funny one, was immature even for him, and she’d have to be in on it too.

 She looked up from the tablet she’d been fiddling with, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow, “To the Compound, Mr. Rogers, as you would know if you’d read the Accords,”

 “Captain,” he corrected, frowning, “we’re supposed to be going back to the tower!”

 “No, Mr. Rogers, you are not. The Avengers are being housed in the Avengers Compound. Once the term of your house arrest is over you are, of course, welcome to find lodging elsewhere.”

 His jaw clenched so tight he felt his teeth groan, “What about the tower?”

 Henrietta sighed, “Mr. Stark sold the tower, it no longer belongs to him, Stark Industries, or the Avengers Initiative. Even if you wished to return there after the term of your house arrest, you could not, it has been turned into an office building. Unless,” she grins, “you care to sleep in a cubicle.”

 He gapes at her, opens and shuts his mouth like a fish, “He… he can’t do that! The Tower… the Tower is our home!”

 “Home or not,” and from the way she said it, it was clear that she did not agree with him, “the Tower was Mr. Stark’s property. Not SI’s, not SHIELD’s, which no longer owns any property anyways, not the Avengers Initiative’s. It was his personal property, so it was his to do with as he wished.”

 “But,” he started, didn’t have another word, started again, “but,” and wasn’t sure if he should be relieved, caught flat-footed, when the car rolled to a stop, Henrietta slipping her tablet into her bag and stepping out of the car before he could get another word out. Without much of a choice, he followed, greeted by Clint’s exclamation of “What the fuck is this?”

 “This, Mr. Barton, is the Avengers Compound, as you would know if you’d read the Accords.” the man’s face went a rather impressive shade of puce, but she powered on, “Any current and future Avengers will be given the option to be housed here, although you seven will be living here for the duration of your house arrest, as was outlined in the contracts you all signed.

Ignoring any of their ‘comments’ (being polite, their head in the Counsel was going to be made well aware of the things they said—they still had many hoops to jump through, and while an attitude check wasn’t one of them, a psychological profile was ), she led them into the building and up to the front desk, where a kindly-faced old man sat behind a desk, offering them a smile as she handed them badges, “This is Stan, he’s one of our front desk employees. Any time you enter or leave the Compound, after informing and having received permission of course, you need to present them with your badge. Please try not to lose them, your first two replacements will be provided free of charge but after that each replacement will be provided at a cost of ten dollars.”

 “We’re not children!” Wanda snapped, despite how often Steve said she was ‘just a kid!’, “We’re not going to be wandering around losing these.”

 (She’d lost hers by Saturday.)

They rode in the elevator up onto the second floor, wherein Henrietta stepped out and they followed her. “You will be staying on this floor. The first floor contains meeting rooms as well as the hospital wings, so unless you are injured, visiting your doctors, or meeting with the Counsel, then you won’t be spending much time on it. The third and fifth floors are exactly the same in layout as this one, they will provide housing for future members of the Avengers Initiative. The fourth floor is the common floor, it contains the kitchen, the dining room, as well as the training room. As a courtesy, you have been given one week to rest and recuperate and get used to the Compound, but starting the Monday after that you will be expected in the training room every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 3pm to train.”

 She led them to the top line of the A, “This is the common room of your floor,” but she didn’t get out another word before Wanda burst out,

 “What is this?!” gesturing to the room, hands sparking red. “Where’s our stuff!?

 Henrietta frowned, “All of the things you purchased with your money were put away into storage units upon the sale of the Tower,” a slight lie, they’d been put into storage by Vision while Mr. Stark was in the hospital after Siberia, but tomayto tomahto. “If you wish to collect them, then please tell me once you have gathered the funds to pay the fees of your unit.”

 Wanda’s face turned colors to match her hair, “That’s not fair! ” she stamped her foot like the child she claimed, sometimes, to be, “That’s our stuff, he can’t just take it away!”

 Like she was speaking to a child, Henrietta said again, “Mr. Stark is not taking your things. When he sold the tower no one knew that you’d be getting pardons, storing your possessions in the Compound would have taken up unnecessary space.”

 The Witch puffed up, hair beginning to float around her, and Henrietta’s hand twitched towards her watch, but Clint crossed his arms, “Don’t bother Wanda, it’s just Stark throwing a tantrum. Steve’ll talk to him and sort this out.”

 Steve nodded—this was just one thing among a long list of things he nodded to straighten out with Tony. “Don’t worry Wanda, I’ll get your things back.”

 That settled her, some, and her hair laid back down along her shoulders, but still her face was a rather alarming shade of red as she gestured to the common room, “What are we supposed to do? We can’t leave the Compound!”

 Henrietta looked over the room—it wasn’t bad, if you asked her. A scattering of couches, sofas and armchairs, all aimed at a large tv, and more than a fair few bookcases with a decent selection of books. “There is plenty for you to do and, technically, Mr. Stark was not required to provide you any sources of entertainment. You have cable, as well as the internet and books. If you wish to purchase any more books you can have them delivered and they will be brought to your rooms or added to the bookshelves, and you are welcome to subscribe to any streaming services that you can afford.”

 Seeing the way Barton was turning colors (she was starting to become concerned for his blood pressure), she turned on her heel and began to lead them down one of the prongs of the A, before he could say something, probably offended by what he had clearly taken as an insult to his financial situation.

 “Men, you are housed in this hall, women on the other. Mr. Wilson is in room 1a, Mr. Barton is in 2a, Mr. Lang 3a, Mr. Barnes in 4a, and Mr. Rogers in 5a.,” she rattled off, “the rest of the rooms are empty for the time being. At the end of both hallways you will find a small kitchenette, as well as a supply room containing toiletries and other such necessities.”

 Nodding, she looked at the Rogues, “I am aware that you have had a long day, and a lot of information dumped on you at once. So for now I will be leaving you to get settled in, I’m sure you all want to get some sleep. If any of you need anything, there’s food in the kitchenettes, and FRIDAY is willing to answer any questions you might have.” Without giving them an opportunity to speak up, Henrietta stepped into the elevator and was gone, intending on going to medical and getting the strongest migraine medicine they could give her.

 “FRIDAY…?”