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1.
When Steve had read about Thor, had been told about him, it was always in conjunction with Mjölnir. They were a set, just as Stark and his suit, Hawkeye and his bow, and he and his shield.
Out of respect, you didn’t just touch another person’s weapon. Unless it was in the chaos of battle and they needed it. He had been tossed his shield many times. Since Mjölnir had that summoning… thing, that had not been necessary to return the favor.
Since moving into Stark’s Avengers Tower, they had all been forced to learn to deal with each other. They each had gotten their own floor, but things got lonely between missions. It would have been weirder to ignore each other than to interact the way they did. It was not at all uncommon for everyone to be in one place. There were a few common areas, like the pool and training room, but the others usually ended up on his floor. Really, every group activity seemed to be held there. He never kicked anyone out, so they stayed. It felt wrong to set boundaries in Stark’s house and sometimes it was nice to know he wasn’t as alone as he felt.
Steve liked it when Clint talked him and Thor into movie nights. Most of the films were entertaining, and it was nice to understand the cultural references. It was nicer to learn them alongside someone else who was just as lost. He was a sucker for Disney movies. This usually meant that while the night would start out with an action or horror flick and be followed by a comedy or romance, it would usually end with some feel-good family or kid’s movie that was animated or slightly musical in nature.
The other two had fallen asleep. Clint was perched on the edge of his seat. His eyes were still open, but he was out. It was kind of creepy, but you got used to it. Thor had taken over a majority of the couch, hammer still in hand. He had refused to abandon it, though gesturing towards the television with it was a bad idea.
He was stretched out. While Steve had occupied the leftmost cushion, Thor had taken all of them. Including Steve’s. He snored while the credits started to roll. One foot was on the floor, the other was over the armrest. His head lulled on Steve’s shoulder. One arm was slung over the back of the couch, the other across Steve’s legs.
It was nice that JARVIS was able to help with just a whisper. Even if he could find the remote, there was no guarantee that he would enter the correct buttons to get what he wanted.
“Television off, please, JARVIS?” It couldn’t hurt to be polite, even if it was an AI.
“Yes, sir.” It/he replied. Steve was never sure what to consider the voice.
Steve managed to extricate himself from under the Norse god and walk over to Hawkeye. It was a good thing he healed fast, sometimes Clint or Natasha would act first and ask questions later when they were woken up. And while Natasha was definitely more dangerous in hand-to-hand, the element of surprise had led to a broken nose the first time Steve had woken Clint.
You had to get in full view, down to his level. Touch his hands, not his shoulder. “Hey, time to go to bed.” He’d usually jump, recognize who you are, yawn, and go to his room. Nobody damaged. Even though a broken nose was nothing to a quickly-healing super soldier, it couldn’t be good for team dynamics.
Thor was more difficult. You either left him where he was or took him to his room. The best bet was to move him onto the couch, rather than over it or across it. Make sure his head was comfortably on the armrest, even though this resulted in his feet sticking off the edge.
A Doritos bag peeked out from underneath the hammer. So, while gathering the rest of the trash that needed to be thrown away, Steve lifted it up and put it right back where it was.
2.
Steve could not find his sketchbook, so he decided to check the coffee table. There it was, underneath the hammer. He moved it a few inches to the left and returned to his current muse, who was currently arguing with Tony about appointments that had to be kept and losing.
3.
Tony had let them each take over decorating their own floor. Steve had not really done much to his. A few things here and there, but no major changes. Really, the only decorations he liked were things that reminded him of his new team. When a fan letter had contained a crayon sketch of all of them, he decided that it was worth hanging. A frame was not hard to come by. Neither was a nail.
For the life of him, he could not find a hammer.
And while he was reluctant to do it, he found Mjölnir in it’s usual place in his own living room. If Thor was that against other people touching it, he wouldn’t leave it everywhere.
Steve hammered in one nail and put it back.
4.
Steve used whatever he could as a weapon. Body, shield, gun. Whatever worked and was there. You had to improvise in battle. You had to keep on your toes.
And when Thor was incapacitated by magic, maybe he used the nearest available weapon to deliver one good swing to a minion before he got to his shield.
5.
Tony had robots. However, it was Steve who usually ended up doing the heavy lifting, especially when it was for things for his own place. And occasionally extra punching bags.
No matter how often Tony offered to buy his groceries for him, he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t have other people or robots shopping for him. He wouldn’t be any more of a strain on the (admittedly large) Stark budget. He had his own money and if he wanted to go to the nearest store and get some eggs and pretzels, then that was what he was going to do.
The only problem was that he had no problem carrying everything when he got carried away, and this led to difficulties when he became too bulky to go through doors properly.
And Tony’s doors kept trying to close themselves to save on heating and cooling costs.
He put the bags down. He didn’t even think about it, just grabbed the hammer from the table and used it to prop the door open.
It still took three trips to get everything inside. He decided that maybe he should talk to Tony about making the doorways bigger.
1.
It was a trip hazard. Everyone had caught their foot on it because it was right in the middle of the walkway, just past a door. Tony had tripped. Natasha had stumbled. Hawkeye had caught his foot on the handle. Bruce had faceplanted and that was the final straw.
Not one of them had even tried to pick it up, and Bruce was looking a little green in HIS living area and he was not going to be happy if he had to deal with a construction crew for a week while everything got fixed.
Respect for Thor’s belongings aside, this was ridiculous.
“Am I the only responsible one here?” He sighed.
They just stared at him like he was crazy. He helped Bruce back to his feet.
“Where is Thor? JARVIS, can you ask him to join us please?”
He saw the hammer, still on the ground.
“Captain!” Thor boomed.
Steve simply bent over and grabbed the handle.
“Uh, Cap? That’s not a good-“ Tony started.
And he lifted it. “You cannot keep leaving this thing wherever you feel like leaving it. It doesn’t matter if you can summon it. What if somebody had gotten hurt?” He turned on the others, using the head of the hammer to accentuate his point. “And not a single one of you even thought of putting it out of the way!”
He sighed and handed it off to Thor, then left without another word.
Everyone stared at the empty doorway.
“So…did he just…?” Clint broke the silence.
Thor seemed to struggle with the idea of Mjölnir being shoved at him. That just didn’t happen, and his expression is as close as anyone can come to booming confusion.
Tony decided that more research needed to be done on this before any conclusions were made, and a dozen experiments to test if this was a fluke started to formulate.
Bruce was happy that someone had finally confronted Thor about it. He had had to find the god several times in the past few weeks to get at a report, or to move a chair, or retrieve a piece of clothing. You couldn’t just leave an immovable object on whichever table/piece of furniture/appliance was there.
Natasha decided it was best to not be around when Thor was going to be Thor again, and headed back to her own floor to plot out how to get Steve to cooperate with her on making a certain someone stay put the next time she wanted them to.