"I think that's our best option." Steve agrees, nodding his head enthusiastically, and Thor groans, "That's our only option, Captain."

Scott Lang waves his hand wanting to voice his thoughts, but gets ignored.

"Are you sure you can make it work, Bruce?" Natasha questions, and the calm scientist shrugs, "I don't think we have a choice in this matter." He says, fidgeting with his nails, "I.. I will have to make it work, won't I?" The genius stutters and directs an awkward smile at the redhead.

Scott Lang waves both his hands desperately, and gets ignored yet again.

"But I need Tony's help. I can't do this without him." Bruce adds to break the awkward silence around him but makes it worse instead of better.

Scott Lang jumps up and waves his hand vigorously. He loves the avengers. Just sitting with them around the round table is an honor for him. But Scott Lang wants to say something and it's important. He knows what he has to say will help the heroes.

Thor smiles and raises from his chair, and all eyes are drawn to his once tight but now jiggly abs, "Well, I am done here." He announces and turns to leave but halts and looks at Lang, "And for the love of Asgard, let this man speak."

"Please Mr. Lang, the floor is yours." Steve urges.

Scott Lang nods, "As I was saying, the answer lies in the proper manipulation of the quantum realm. And I believe that we can do it on our own. That is, if Mr. Stark refuses."

As expected, Mr. Stark refuses, and the remaining avengers start working on the time machine.

Soon, the day arrives when the avengers are standing around their creation, a primitive-looking metal contraption, their time machine. It's not like the heroes hadn't tried, it was just that their Chief creative head had decided to distance himself from the project. So, they had ended up with this poorly designed excuse of a machine.
Steve is the first one to comment, "You did great, Bruce. How does it work?" He asks enthusiastically, and the scientist sighs, "No need to sugar coat it, Captain, I know it looks terrible."

"We were running low on funds, Bruce." Natasha cuts in, trying to make her man feel better.

"Does this aesthetically unappealing contraption work?" Thor enquires, taking a closer look at the machine that was carrying the weight of their hopes and expectations.

Lang gulps, and Bruce sighs, "Kinda. We need to experiment. I need a volunteer."

"I volunteer." Thor announces, walking forward, but Bruce stops him, "I am afraid you can't. We need a fit man."

"Are you saying I am not fit! I am a God! How dare a... "

Steve puts his hand on Thor's shoulder, and the upset God calms down, "Thor, I think you won't fit in the seat is what Bruce was trying to say." Steve reasons, and Bruce nods.
"Oh, my apologies, dear friends. I am a little touchy these days." Thor shrugs.

"I will do it," Steve says resolutely, and the rest of the avengers nod.

A few minutes later, Steve sits in the machine, and Bruce powers it, "Any last words, Steve?" The scientist teases, and Steve smiles, "I need you all to mind your language when I am gone."

Bruce purses his lips, "Here we go." He says, pushing a button, and the machine disappears from their sight.

*****

"What the hell!" Dean Winchester exclaims, looking at his car, Baby, which was presently being crushed under a fugly looking metal contraption.

"Sammmmmyyyyyyy!" He whines and runs towards his Baby, the classic black Impala. He tries to lift the fugly thing off of his Baby with his bare hands but fails, "Sammmmmyyyyyyy, helppppp!" He yells for backup while trying to push The Thing off of his car.

The Thing doesn't bulge.

When after multiple failed attempts, neither Sam shows up, nor does the thing move, he finally loses it and curses, "Son of a bitch! "

"Language." Someone reprimands from within the fugly thing, and Dean freezes.

"Duuuuuuuuude, come see. Fugly can speak." Dean gushes excitedly.

The garage door creaks, and Sam enters with his glorious, perfectly groomed hair, "Dude, chill. Listen... " He starts, but is interrupted by Fugly, the f**king ugly time machine, "A little help here, please."

"Dude, Fugly can speak." Dean blurts out sounding impressed, and taps the machine; Baby remains forgotten.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I think the door is stuck," Fugly speaks again.

"Dean! There is someone stuck inside. Come help me get him out." The practical one of the two speaks.

After a few moments of hard labor, Sam and Dean pull open the door, and Steve rolls out, hitting the floor with a thud.

Sam tries to help, but Dean stops him, "Let's wait for an explanation." He suggests, pointing at Baby. "I hope he has insurance, cause I am too old to fix this kind of damage."

Sam shakes his head gracefully, "Dean, we don't need insurance, we have Jack." The younger hunter reminds his elder brother.

"Oh ya. I keep forgetting that his powers are back." Dean recalls.

Steve stands up slowly and takes in his surroundings, "Gentlemen, thank you."

"Ya ya, whatever, who the hell are you?" The older hunter barks.

"Oh, my apologies. I am Steve Rogers. Can you tell me which year it is? And where... "

"Waaaaait... Hold up!" Dean interrupts, "YOU are Steve Rogers, as in Captain America!" He questions, completely fanboying.

Once again, Baby and her woes are forgotten.

"Yes, I am. And you are?" Steve enquires, offering his hand to Dean.

Dean wipes his almost clean hands on the front of his jacket and takes the offered hand in his, reverently, "I am Dean Winchester, Sir and this is my brother, Sammy... I mean, Sam."

Dean let's go of the Captain's hand reluctantly and gestures Sam to greet the hero who is gracing their garage.
"It's a pleasure, Cap." The younger brother greets, and Steve smiles.

"So I take it that you have never seen me before. Not even on television? I mean, me and my buddies are on the news, a lot." Steve asks.

"Dude... I mean Steve, may I call you Steve?" Dean asks, getting distracted by Steve's Dorito shaped physique and tries his level best to look completely straight.

He fails miserably.

But Steve doesn't mind, "Yes, Sir, you may call me Steve."

Dean blushes and turns his back towards the soldier. He catches Sam's eyes, "Sammy, he called me Sir!" He mouths, before turning around to face Steve once more.

"Steve, if I am not mistaken, you are not from our world. This world right here, we have an assh*** running it. He is called Chuck. Anyway, I think our adopted son might have had something to do with your presence in this dimension."

"Oh," Steve mutters and his face falls, "I need to be somewhere and I need to be there right now, the fate of our world depends on it," Steve informs.

"Jaaaaaack!" Dean yells for the Nephilim and a few moments later, Jack joins the duo, "What is it, Dean?" His eyes fall on Steve, and he asks, "And who are you?"

"That is not important," Dean dismisses Jack's questions and puts up his own, "Did you do any inter-dimensional mumbo-jumbo?"

Jack looks at the floor, "I was just experimenting with my powers. I was trying something new; broaden my horizons. I am sorry if I caused trouble again." Jack explains apologetically, and Sam nods understandingly, "It's okay Jack. Can you return him to his realm?"

"I don't see why not." Jack shrugs and opens his palm before pointing at Steve.

"Stop. Wait." Steve interrupts the young boy, "You can send me back just like that?"

"Yes."

"How come?"

"He is a Nephilim," Dean answers, his voice dripping with pride.

"What else can you do?"

"Anything I want," Jack replies casually, like doing anything he wants, is no big deal.

Steve smiles as a plan starts to take form in his mind.

"If you guys agree, I would like your son to help me save the world," Steve requests, looking at Sam and Dean.

"Will he be like an Avenger?" Dean enquires excitedly, and Steve nods, "Of course."

The hunters (especially Dean) happily give Jack their blessings. 

Jack opens the portal, and the boy and the hero walk through it.

And the rest? The rest is history. A pleasant history. A history where all bad guys are dead and all heroes are alive.

And what happens to Jack?

Well, he returns to the bunker safe and sound with a paper bag full of freshly made Shawarma in his hands.

It was Steve's idea.

So, you see, not all messed up experiments have to have negative consequences. Just like how all the stories that have an unfortunate beginning, don't have to have a sad end.

{Note :- Word count 1491}