Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Somehow Sesame Street is even more hidden than the secret bases that Harry’s hero family raids. Nobody knows how to get there, even though people always ask in the song.

Only now Harry’s family is visiting (except Logan), for PR or something. Grandpa’fessor and Steve are at the front, leading them in. Dad and Harry follow right behind Steve, to the left.

Harry gazes around the street in awe as he walks holding Dad’s hand, Snuffles plodding between Harry and Moony. Everywhere Harry looks, there are fuzzy monsters and people and so many different sorts all hanging out. Abby Cadabby is running about with Elmo, and Abby doesn’t have to hide her magic wand or fairy wings from anyone.

Big Bird is as tall as Hulk, though he’s not smashing stuff, and Oscar’s as green and grumpy as Hulk can be.

“Hi, Harry, I’m Big Bird,” Big Bird waves at Harry. Harry already knew that, but Big Bird clearly knows him too. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“Snuffles,” Harry says, wondering if Big Bird saw the stuff on telly about Sirius’s trial. Or Dad’s trial.

“Say, maybe he’d like to play with Barkley.” Big Bird calls over a huge dog, even bigger than Snuffles, and it makes sense Big Bird would have a really big dog. Barkley’s so shaggy that Harry can’t even see his eyes, and he wonders how Barkley sees with fur over his eyes, but people said the same thing about Harry’s bangs.

Barkley woofs and walks over to sniff Snuffles, who huffs and gives Harry a look, even though he’s the one that decided to be Snuffles instead of Sirius right now.

“Snuffles is a great name,” Big Bird says. “It’s almost like Snuffy. That’s what I call my best friend, Mr. Snuffleupagus.”

“I thought dogs were best friends,” Harry says, but then again he’d heard they’re man’s best friend, and Big Bird isn’t a man. “Snuffles was on telly too, like you. And this is my dad.” Harry introduces, because it’s only polite. “And Steve, and-”

“I know who you are! You’re superheroes! You’re even more famous than everyone on Sesame Street, and we get a lot of celebrity visitors.” Big Bird points at Dad next. “And you got stolen a long time ago. One time, the Sleaze Brothers birdnapped me and put me in a cage in their circus. They painted me blue and called me the Bluebird of Happiness.”

“Sorry,” Dad says, softly, because he knows what that’s like after his name got taken and replaced with Winter Soldier or Asset .

“I’m glad you got out,” Big Bird tells Dad, like he really means it. “They had to do a whole rescue mission to save me.”

“Dad saved me with a rescue mission,” Harry slings an arm around Dad's body. Dad had said it was kidnapping, but it felt like a rescue to Harry. “Do you like flying?”

Harry laughs at his own question. Of course a bird would like flying! Only he’s never seen Big Bird fly on TV before. 

Big Bird kind of flaps his yellow wing-arms sadly. “No, I’m a flightless bird, like a penguin.”

“That’s why there’s broomsticks. You could fly with a broom.” Harry says, wishing he brought his. His motorbroom could certainly lift Big Bird, but it might be a bit small for him to hold. Sirius has a broom Big Bird could use, and Sirius won’t be using it as Snuffles.

Harry spots Alan sweeping the walk outside a store. “That’s not a flying broom, right?”

“No, but one time, a wicked witch flew over Sesame Street and she lost her broomstick right here outside Mr. Looper’s Store” Big Bird tells Harry. The store’s name starts with H, not L, so Harry’s not sure Looper is right, and Dad says it says Hooper. “David found her broom, and he wouldn’t give it back until she showed him respect, but she was even grouchier than Oscar. And just as green.”

Steve frowns, because he hates bullies. Harry’s never seen a green witch, but Abby Cadabby is pink, and he knows lots of blue mutants. Plus Loki can turn blue, and he’s magic.

“Is that her broom?” Harry nods to the broom Alan’s sweeping with, because then Big Bird could use it to fly, except then Harry’s family might have to battle the wicked witch. They battled evil witches before though, and Loki’s army, and then Loki killed the bit of the evil wizard living in Harry’s scar, so they could easily beat a wicked witch. 

That would make Sesame Street extra exciting, because usually it’s shapes and numbers and letters and stuff. Super Grover’s here, and he’s super funny, but he’d mess up fighting a wicked witch, because he always makes silly mistakes. 

Harry and his family came to Sesame Street to talk about how Steve’s shield is a circle and star, and how everyone can get along, mutants and humans and monsters and wizards (but Moony doesn’t want to talk about werewolves). Only now Harry’s imagining fighting a wicked witch with her own broom. He’d get to be a hero.

Snuffles is on high alert for a wicked witch, and Dad’s definitely scanning the whole street, but he has been since they arrived. Steve is keeping an eye out too, and the whole team’s always ready to fight.

“Of course we couldn’t just have a relaxing trip to Sesame Street,” Dad sighs. Dad always says he never wants to fight again, but he’s already guarding Harry.

“Oh don’t worry. This was a long time ago.” Big Bird says. “You know, I got her broom, and the Wicked Witch tried to make me give it to her, but I was brave and stood up for David and Maria. She got really mad and said she’d turn me into a feather duster, and David into a basketball.”

Harry remembers pretending to be Basketball Boy when he had to be disguised, but it’s not so funny when a wicked witch threatens to do it.

“Did she do it?” he asks, standing on his toes to peer around Dad at Big Bird.

“No, but she turned herself into a nice looking woman and almost tricked us, but we realized who she was. She asked nicely, but only because she had to, so it wasn’t truly nice. And then when she flew off, she lost her broom again, and David had to go through it all over.” Big Bird pauses and says, “That show really scared kids, so they stopped showing it.”

“I’m not scared,” Harry puffs out his chest. Surely a wicked witch can’t be as bad as HYDRA. Or maybe she was, but would HYDRA ask nicely for something? No, they didn’t ask nicely for Dad, they just took him and erased his memories.

“I was,” Big Bird says. “It’s okay to be scared. I was really scared, but I still stood up for my friends.”

“Good job,” Steve smiles approvingly, looking up at Big Bird. Harry heard he used to have to look up at nearly everyone, because he was small, but now Steve’s bigger than almost everyone except Hulk and Big Bird.

“Thanks, Captain America.” Big Bird stands even taller at that. “I know you’re really brave. And you always do what’s right.”

“That happened before I moved to Sesame Street,” Abby says. She and Elmo have come over to listen to Big Bird’s story. 

Harry wonders how nobody knew about magic when Abby was here, because they show her lots even though Big Bird said they stopped showing the wicked witch.

“Elmo never saw a wicked witch,” Elmo says.

“We don’t need a wicked witch’s broom to fly,” Harry says. “I have my own.”

Harry has his own magic too, but he can’t always get it to work, but he has Snuffles and Moony. “Can you call my brooms, please?”

“I can help!” Abby Cadabby waves her magic wand and says a rhyme that goes, “Soon we’ll all be flying- zoom! Bring us Harry Potter’s brooms!”

Harry’s brooms zip over like excited puppies. Barkley bounces and barks at them, but Snuffles doesn’t.

“Thanks, Abby!” Harry climbs on one broom, while Elmo climbs on another. Big Bird takes the grownup broom Sirius rides.

They float up above the buildings of Sesame Street, though Elmo dives back down to find a ball for them to play with.

Abby pretends she’s a witch and chases them around, playing a wonderful game of flying tag as they zoom about above Sesame Street. 

Chapter Text

“Stay still, Ernie!” Bert grumbles.

Steve’s been trying to draw a portrait of Bert and Ernie for them, even though there’s already one hanging on the wall, but Ernie keeps getting up to get a banana to hold by his ear, or to grab his Rubber Duckie, insisting the duck be in the drawing as well, much to Bert’s annoyance.

Rubber Duckie is, at least, still, except when Ernie’s squeaking him to make him talk.

“Ernie! He is trying to draw us!”  Bert’s unibrow goes down before he schools his face to be appropriate for a picture. “You have to stay still!”

“What if he draws me standing on one foot?” Ernie does so, then wobbles, falling into Bert and knocking him aside.

“Ernie!” Bert says.

“Gee, I’m sorry Bert.” Ernie says. “You know, if we each stand on one foot, we’ll have two feet between us to stand on.” Ernie shows the numbers with his fingers as he talks.

“We both already have two feet, Ernie, and we should keep all four on the floor!” Bert says.

“Four feet? We’re not a horse, Bert. Or a rhinoceros. Or a hippopotamus. Or a cat. Say, guess who else has two feet.”

Ernie makes Rubber Duckie squeak twice.

“That’s right, Rubber Duckie! You have two feet, just like me and Bert!”

Rubber Duckie squeaks some more, pointed at where James is lurking off to the side, and Ernie says “That’s right, he has one metal arm.”

“Ernie, that’s not polite!”

“Say, did you lose your other arm?” Ernie asks. “Bert loses his nose sometimes, or sneezes it off, and sometimes I put it back in the wrong places.”

James glances at Bert’s nose, confused. “It comes off?”

Tony would be cracking jokes about Mr. Potato Head, although Bert’s head is long and yellow with a tuft of hair on top like a pineapple’s leaves, rather than a potato.

Ernie pulls Bert’s nose off to demonstrate, and Bert glares. “Ernie! I need my nose for the picture!”

Ernie places Bert’s nose back, in the right spot, before turning back to James. “Hey, we can help you look for your arm. Do you know where you saw it? By Oscar’s trash can?”

“At the bottom of a mountain.” James says. “I fell, and people took off the rest.”

“And they didn’t give it back? I gave Bert’s nose back when I took it from him, did you see?”

Steve has completely stopped drawing, just watching them.

“Steve and I used to live in a place like this.” James changes the subject. “Even smaller, practically a shoebox. My bathroom now is bigger than our old apartment.”

“Do you take baths with a Rubber Duckie too?” Ernie squeaks his duck.

“No, but my son Harry does.”

“Harry came to Sesame Street too, right?” Ernie asks. “Did his duckie come too? Rubber Duckie would love to have a playdate with another duck.”

He makes Rubber Duckie squeak excitedly.

“Harry didn’t bring his duck. He brought flying broomsticks.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Ernie shrugs. 

“Did one of you wake the other up at night?” Bert asks, with a pointed look at Ernie.

“When Steve was sick, he’d keep me up coughing.” James says, and then adds “I would have been up anyway, worrying about him breathing.”

Steve’s still not drawing, staring at James with a soft look on his face.

“We don’t sleep in the same room, now.” James says.

“Why not?” Ernie shoots them an innocent look.

“I wish we didn’t share a room.” Bert mutters.

“I’d wake him up with bad dreams.” James doesn’t elaborate that he wakes up screaming.

“Better than Ernie waking me up while dancing himself to sleep, playing the bugle, and getting sheep to carry me away in my bed.”

Steve and James share a confused look at the last part.

“If you can’t sleep, you should try dancing yourself to sleep,” Ernie suggests innocently, as if Bert wasn’t just complaining about it.

“You used to love dancing,” Steve says quietly. 

“I get a drink after bad dreams.” James says, which almost sounds like alcoholism, so he elaborates with “We have hot cocoa parties, as Harry calls them. A lot of people in our house can’t sleep.”

“Bert got me water when I was thiiiiirrrsssttyyy!” Ernie draws out the word, and Bert groans in annoyance. “Bert’s a real nice guy like that. Maybe we should have Bert holding a glass of water in this picture. Say, Bert, why don’t you get a glass of water?”

“I’m not getting a glass of water for the drawing, Ernie!”

“If you get a big enough glass, Rubber Duckie could swim in it!” Ernie snickers as he squeezes Rubber Duckie.

“Rubber Duckie doesn’t go in water cups, Ernie, he goes in the bathtub.”

“We’re not going to have our picture drawn in the bathtub, Bert.” Ernie says, like Bert’s being the ridiculous one. “That would really get people talking, huh, a picture of us taking a bath together.”

“You’ve had whole parties in the tub with your Rubber Duck song!” Bert throws his hands in the air.

“Yeah, but I don’t have pictures of it!”

“It was on television, Ernie!”

“It’s a fun song, Bert. Do de duck, rubber duck duck, rubber duck, rubber duck… rubber duck, duck… Say, you didn’t join my Rubber Duckie bath party, Bert. ”

“You’re too rowdy in the bath, Ernie. I like a nice, calm bath without too many bubbles and ducks.” Bert turns to them, unibrow raising as if to say you see what I put up with?

James shakes his head. He may not remember it all, but Steve was just as much trouble, getting into alley fights and routinely almost dying from asthma attacks and pneumonia (not that James could fault him for that).

James glances at Steve’s drawing, which hasn’t progressed nearly as far as Bert and Ernie’s argument has.

“And I thought you were a difficult model,” Steve mutters to James, watching the two of them bicker like an old married couple, and well, people have suggested it. It brings him back to fighting with James the same way back in the day, though suggesting they acted anything like a couple would have been disastrous, dangerous.

Steve’s not going to pry, even if people are allowed to be more open about it now. No matter their relationship and squabbles, it’s clear that Bert and Ernie are just as close as Steve and Bucky once were.

Slowly and surely, Steve and James are rekindling a friendship lost to seventy years of ice and brainwashing, and Steve can only hope they’re this close again someday.

Chapter Text

“I would’ve thought you’d want to meet Thor, or Storm, seeing as how you all have lightning powers.” Tony says to the Count before flashing a grin. 

“Ah, but Thor only has one godly hammer. You, Iron Man, have many suits, and I will count them all.”

“Just admit you picked the best on the team,” Tony says as he showily dons his Iron Man armor, which folds around his body perfectly.

“One! One Iron Man suit! Ah, ah, ah!” the Count laughs as thunder booms and lightning flashes overhead.

“All right, Jarvis, parade protocol.” Tony mutters and another suit soars overhead. They’re coming in chronological order, a sort of history of Tony’s suit designs.

“Two! Two Iron Man suits! Ah ah ah!”

“That was my first design-” Tony starts, but the Count is impatient to get to number three and urges him to send the next one. Bruce would probably say that Tony's getting a taste of his own medicine.

“Three! Three Iron Man suits! Ah ah ah!”

“If I scatter rice, do you have to count that too?” Tony asks, flipping up his faceplate to peer at the Count’s fangs. “That’s a thing with vampires, right?”

“Oh, yes, let’s count rice after!” the Count chuckles, but he’s not one to get distracted, unlike Tony. “Send the next suit! Four! Four Iron Man suits! Ah ah ah!”

“Are we really going to count all the way up to fifty-two? Seriously, you’re taking longer than one Mississippi, two Mississippi… ” Tony sighs, as the Count counts the fifth and sixth suits. “It was forty-seven when Loki arrived, but I’ve got a full deck now. And no, that's not a metaphor for my sanity.”

“Seven! Seven Iron Man suits! Ah ah ah!”

“You’re really reducing a genius to a counting exercise?” Iron Man asks the camera. “Well, you keep doing that, I’m going to go race Harry and Elmo.”

Tony rockets into the sky as the Count keeps counting the rest of the Iron Man suits.

Chapter Text

Somebody calls from below Harry, “Harry, I want you to meet someone!” 

It’s not Dad’s voice, or anybody in Harry’s family. It’s an orange monster who looks like Elmo, but she’s orange, not red, and has blue eyelids over her white eyeballs, and a smaller nose.

“I want you to meet Rocco!” she shouts up to him.

Harry dives down on his motorbroom; they’re here to meet people, after all.

“Oh boy.” Elmo mutters behind him.

Harry dives down to the girl monster. She’s dressed in a ballet outfit, and Harry wonders if she’s going to dance with Natasha. Natasha used to do ballet.

“This is Rocco,” Zoe holds out a round, smooth rock. “Rocco says hi.”

“Elmo didn’t hear Rocco say anything, Zoe.” Elmo lands beside Harry.

“Well, I don’t hear your Baby David doll say anything either!” Zoe shoots back, before turning to Harry. “Rocco wants to know if he can fly too.” 

“Rocco can’t fly!” Elmo says. “Rocco can’t do anything! Rocco’s just a rock!”

“By himself?” Harry asks, and Zoe nods. “You need arms to hold the broom, but you can fly and hold him.”

“Oh, okay.” 

Harry passes his broomstick over and swings a ballet slipper over, climbing on. “Rocco’s scared of heights. What if he falls and gets hurt?”

Elmo says that Rocco will hurt someone if he falls, but he won’t get hurt.

“You don’t have to go up so high.” Harry says, wondering if they’re going to teach about up and down, or high and low.

“Maybe we can tape Rocco to the broom so he won’t fall.” Zoe glances around for some tape.

“Or he could grow arms.” Harry suggests, and Elmo looks at him funny. “One time, Loki made my toys real. He could make Rocco have a real face and arms and legs and stuff.”

Elmo covers his eyes with his fuzzy red hands. Maybe if Loki brought Rocco to life, Elmo would stop getting mad about him.

"Loki!" Harry calls, and Loki pops out of nowhere. Maybe he was already listenting, because he smiles his smile that means trouble, and Zoe suddenly gasps.

"What is it?" Elmo asks.

Rocco turns around in Zoe's hand, but now he has googly eyes and a mouth. "I won't be sedimentary any more!" he says, and rolls out of Zoe's hand.

"Don’t joke me, Rocco! Now come back!" Zoe shouts, chasing after him. Rocco rolls away, singing horribly off key. Zoe shouts that Rocco's favorite song is Rocco and Roll, not whatever he's singing.

Elmo looks shocked. "Maybe Rocco is alive."

"Come on, Rocco! I was going to take you flying!" Zoe keeps chasing Rocco around. She seems almost disappointed that Rocco really has a face now.

Rocco eventually hops back in Zoe's hand, and his face changes again to a real human face, but made of rock.

Zoe yelps, and Loki grins. Harry tugs Loki's sleeve. "What about arms, so he can hold the broom?"

Rocco suddenly has arms, but only arms, like the Geodude Pokemon card Eileen brought to Nursery Preschool.

"I miss the old you, Rocco." Zoe says.

"But now Elmo knows he's alive," Harry pats her shoulder. Elmo still looks blown away, his mouth hanging open.

“I don’t need Rocco to have a mouth. I always knew what he was saying.” Zoe says.

Loki sighs, waves a hand, and Rocco's just a rock again, with no face or arms.

"Rocco! You're back!" Zoe cries, cuddling Rocco to her cheek, and Elmo just shakes his head.

“It’s okay, Rocco,” Zoe cups Rocco carefully in one hand as she slowly rises, just enough so that her ballet slippers leave the ground.

“If you twist like this, you can spin like a ballerina,” Harry shows her, borrowing Elmo’s broom.

“Let’s dance, Rocco!” Zoe laughs, twirling her broom around. Elmo mutters as he goes away, so Harry climbs on Elmo’s broom to join the dance.

Chapter Text

Grover carries a tray of food past Beast hanging from a street sign and does a double-take, whirling back to him with his mouth agape. “There is something funny about you, sir.”

“Well, we’re both blue and furry.” Beast says with an upside down smile.

“Yes, and I am cute, too.” Grover nods. “I know! You are upside-down! That means your feet are up and your head is down! ” Grover emphasizes each direction by nodding dramatically. "You cannot eat upside-down, sir!"

“From where I’m hanging, you look upside-down.” Beast chuckles. He picks up a cup from Grover's tray and says “If we turn this cup over, what will happen?”

“It will become a hat,” Grover says. He grabs the cup and upturns it, spilling water over himself. “Now I am wet.”

Beast reaches offscreen and hands him a towel.

“There’s something else that can be turned upside-down.” Still hanging, Bruce turns to a blackboard. He quickly draws a sad face and says “If we turn this frown upside-down, we get a…”

He erases the frown and waits for Grover to answer.

“We get a smile!” Grover positively beams at the camera. 

Beast smiles at Grover. "And it makes me smile to cheer up my friends," 

“Now, I will try to hang upside-down with you.” Grover announces, before awkwardly trying to use Beast’s body as a jungle gym to climb to the top of the camera. He slips, falls, and Beast snags him in midair, upside-down.

“Now we are both upside-down, but you do not look upside-down to me anymore.” Grover tells Beast in a conspiratorial whisper. 

Chapter Text

Harry, Elmo and Zoe are going over the alphabet together. Today’s letter is R. Harry knows that letter really well- his name has two of them, and he’s great at spelling his name. And there are two more Rs in his last names, both Potter and Barnes. And two Ts, and two Es, but those aren’t today’s letter.

They’ve talked about radiant rainbows and rushing rainwater with the letter R, who has a face and everything, and Harry keeps staring at her. He’s sure Dad writes it backwards most of the time, and Harry used to write it backwards in his own name too, to match Dad. Not because he messed up.

Zoe gleefully says that Rocco starts with R, and Elmo groans as Zoe says Rocco's so proud to be an example for today's letter.

"Rocco isn't real anymore, Zoe! Rocco's just a rock!" Elmo ends up yelling a bit, but calms down when they start to sing the ABCs.

As they sing the alphabet song, Harry can’t stop thinking about how the letters Dad uses are different. He hardly ever sees Dad write F, or G, or J, even though his name is James.

“Dad writes R backwards.” Harry shares, as they go on to talk about rumbles, like thunder and monster trucks. Thor should come show some thunder, he has an R at the end of his name, and his name starts just like it, too.

Harry’s hardly seen Dad write Th, either.

Harry runs off to find Thor and Dad, pulling them into the scene with Elmo and Zoe.

“Dad, show them how you write R backwards.” Harry says, and turns the letter R around.

“That’s not a backwards R, it’s ja in Cyrillic. That’s the alphabet for Russian.” Dad says softly. “Cyrillic has some of the same letter shapes, and some different ones. It has thirty-three letters instead of twenty-six.”

“It has H and P and B like Harry Potter-Barnes.” Harry grins. “And they’re all the right way, too.”

“They aren’t quite the same,” Dad explains. “H says en, P says er, and B says ve. ”

Harry frowns. That wouldn’t make his name at all. Would he be Enarry Erotter Vernes? That sounds too much like Uncle Vernon, and Harry hates it. 

Dad takes a marker and quickly writes out the Cyrillic alphabet. Harry sees Y too, but also the numbers three and a rather rounded 4 that’s open on top like the Quidditch Cup. 

“Three and four are numbers, Dad, not a letter!” Harry points, since they’re supposed to be teaching letters now. Numbers come later, and three and four aren’t even today’s.

“They’re letters in Cyrillic.” Dad points to the three. “That sounds like z, and this sounds like ch. ”

Mr. Stark strolls into the conversation, interrupting as he often does. “It’s also got a letter that sort of resembles a backwards pi symbol. Resemble means to look like something.”

“Pies are circles, Mr. Stark!” Harry laughs at him a bit. “You can’t even see if it’s backwards.” 

“I meant Pi, the number.” Mr. Stark huffs.

Harry folds his arms. “We’re doing letters, not numbers!” Only Dad said that three and four are letters in Russian.

“Does Russian not have three and four?” Harry asks. “How do you count?”

“I thought we were doing letters,” Mr. Stark says back, eyebrow raised.

“Today’s letter is the letter R.” Elmo says. “Not backwards R or ja. Just R, which says rrr.” Elmo stares at them. 

“Russian has R.” Harry points out.

“No, it’s ja. ” Zoe says.

“No, Russian starts with R. RRRussian.” Harry emphasizes the R sound, the one he knows best, sort of sounding like he’s growling like Logan. “But the letters are different, like how biscuits aren’t cookies here. Because he’s Cookie Monster, not Biscuit Monster.” Harry points as Cookie Monster wanders past.

“Did somebody say cookie?” Cookie Monster’s mouth opens in delight. “Me ready for cookie! Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ready start with R.”

“You really have a talent for derailing conversations,” Mr. Stark mutters to Harry.

Dad nudges Mr. Stark with his metal elbow. “You’re hardly one to talk, Stark.”

The letter R huffs and storms off on her two lines that look like legs. “R is ready to retire after this!”

“No, no, R, you can’t go!” Tony calls, chasing after R as she stomps away. “I need you for Stark!”