Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Peggy only waits for a minute or two before letting the incessant banging on her front door drive her to her balcony. 

She slides open the glass door and steps out into the chilly November air.

“MARGE!” The voice on the other side calls, “Marge, come on, you know you want to let me in— Hey, HEY, I’m talking to you, open this door right NOW.” 

She rolls her eyes and then checks her pocket, making sure she has her apartment key before shutting the door behind her. She glances to her right where the balcony that belongs to a Gilmore Hodge resides. Then she looks to her left and crawls very carefully over the ledge, gripping the metal guardrail tight. 

She stretches her leg out, finding footing on the neighboring balcony and then slowly, so slowly, reaches over to grab the guardrail to her left. Her fingers clench the cold metal and she pulls herself over, quickly straddling it before toppling over and landing on her hip on the concrete balcony. 

“Ow!” She hisses, rubbing her hip and thigh. That will bruise. 

She quickly gets up and knocks rapidly on the glass door. When no one responds immediately, she knocks harder, paining her knuckles in the process. 

“Hello!” She calls, adding desperation to her voice, “Is anyone there?” She is leaning on the glass door and knocking again when it slides open. She allows the momentum to carry her forward until she lands against something large and firm, and… wet? She jumps back, taking in the sight before her. 

Bloody hell her thoughts shout. Her eyes are staring at a bare, and thickly muscled chest, with large broad shoulders, and thick arms still slightly raised as if to catch her. She finally realizes the dark wet splotches on his skin are paint, smeared and circled and looking as if he is his own palette. She finally drags her eyes up to the face where deep blue eyes, bright blonde hair, and a tensed strong jaw are set in an expression of confusion and concern. 

“I— I’m sorry” she stutters. “I thought— I—” She’s at a loss for words and she watches as he pulls thickly padded over-the-ear headphones off. She can hear his music blaring through them. His hair is slightly mused and a strand hangs down, touching his eyebrow. The room around them is darkened, but her eyes catch the sight of some light coming from another room. The room they’re standing in is filled with askew furniture and half unpacked boxes.

Her eyes travel back towards his chest and the colorful paint that is begging to be stared at. 

She hears him scoff and she snaps her eyes back upwards. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks, “Can I help you?” The sincerity in the question rings out but she freezes at the sound of his voice. Her mind traveling back to six months ago, a dark alley in London.

Hey get off of her you jackass. Get outta here. Are you okay?

She swallows thickly. It can’t be. They just sound the same. 

“Miss?” He tries again, “Are you alright?”

She shakes her head, clearing the old memory and finally finding her voice. “Yes, I’m— well, I’m not perfectly alright, as you can probably guess by the fact that I just climbed to your balcony and accosted you. But I’m physically unharmed.” 

He’s about to ask another question when another shout is heard from the hallway. 

“Marge, if you don’t open this door, I’mma break it down. You’re not getting away that easy. I’m going to teach you a lesson—“ More unpleasant things are said but Peggy just watches with fascination as the man’s facial expression changes as he listens to the rant. 

“He yours?” He asks with steel in his tone. 

“While he may be speaking to me, I don’t usually claim drunk colleagues who refuse to take no for an answer.” She responds equally steely. His mouth quirks up and he holds up a finger. 

“One second.” 

He walks towards his front door, snagging a shirt from a pile of fresh laundry set on a coffee table, and exits his apartment. 

She quickly follows him and tries to peek out from the doorway. 

“Hey, I’m Steve.” The man whose apartment she’d just entered said in a calm, easy-going voice. 

“Oh yeah?” Comes the voice from the hallway. “And who cares?” 

“Oh, certainly no one.” Steve responds easily. “But seeing as I’m a resident, and you’re out here making a racket and disturbing the peace, I’m going to ask you to leave.” 

“Oh, are you?”

“Yes, sir. I am.” 

“Well, listen here, Steve. I’m not going anywhere until—“ The man makes a grunting noise and Peggy peeks out further, catching Steve holding onto her ‘assailant’ by the scruff of his collar and saying something too low for her to hear. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” The man shoves against Steve’s chest but Steve doesn’t move an inch. 

“Try me.” Steve drops the man’s collar, and shoves hard against his shoulders, causing him to stumble, “Get outta here you jackass.” 

The man grumbles but takes off. The words he’s just spoken and their cadence throw ice water down her back and she lurches back further into the apartment. 

He walks back in and stops, hands resting gently on his hips. 

“He’s gone.” He says calmly and then studies her, “I’m going to assume that I’m your new neighbor?” She nods, not trusting her voice. 

“Well, not that I don’t enjoy having a heart attack at someone banging on my balcony door, but I do hope it won’t be a common occurrence.”

She breathes deeply, her eyes trailing down to his white shirt which now has paint seeping through it, making the fabric stick to his skin and somehow being even more eye-catching than when he was bare chested. 

“It won’t be. I promise.” She extends her hand. “Welcome to the apartment complex.” 

“Thank you.” He says politely, opening up his door for her to leave. She takes the hint and exits, only sparing a quick glance up to his eyes as she leaves. 

———————————-

A quiet knock on his door gets his attention. He sets the mixing fork down, turns down his music, and grabs a towel, wiping his hands as he pulls open his door. 

The girl stands there, looking a bit bashful, but as beautiful as the night she basically fell into his apartment, disheveled and shaking. 

“I just wanted to say thank you.” She says, “For a few days ago… And to officially welcome you to the complex when there isn’t a madman in the hallway.” She holds out a store-bought carton of cookies and he eyes them warily. “What?” She huffs, “you don’t like cookies?” 

“No,” he says slowly, “I love cookies. Thanks.” He extends his hand and she sets them in his grasp. He expects her to leave but she just stands there, “did you need something else?” He asks. 

“No… I just…” She runs an absent hand through her hair and looks a bit lost. Steve doesn’t try to understand women at all, but if he had to guess, she looked like she kind of needed somebody to talk to. 

“Do you…” he winces at his words, “want to come in?” He expects her to laugh at him, or decline but a relieved look crosses her face and she nods eagerly, 

“Yes, thank you.” 

———-

She eyes the bowls on the counter and as she sits on the tiny stool set against the small island, she narrows her eyes at the ingredients. 

“What are you making?” She asks casually. 

She watches his shoulders tense as he sets the carton of cookies on the counter. 

“Cookies.” He says after a moment. He looks at her, and she snorts, laughter coming easily and letting it carry over to him. His shoulders ease and he chuckles too. 

“Well, I’m sure my store bought ones will hold up against yours.” She says cheekily. 

His brow furrows and he places a hand over his heart as if wounded. “I take personal offense to that!” 

“Why?” She queries, “You think you’re such a great cookie maker?”

“I hope so.” He says, squaring his shoulders, “I’m a baker by trade.” 

“Oh, you’re not a painter?” The words slip out before she can stop herself, but the absolute flush of color that spreads across his cheeks makes it worth it. 

“Well, I do enjoy painting.” He says, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but no, I don’t make a living that way.” 

“But you wish you could?”

“Maybe…” He smiles and picks back up his baking utensils. “Selling art is a tough way to live.” 

She nods and they fall into companionable silence. She notices the music and perks up. 

“Are you listening to Thomas Newman?”

Steve’s eyes go wide, “You know him?” 

“Of course I do! Some of my favorite film scores are composed by him.” Steve’s mouth parts slightly in surprise before he smiles widely and nods eagerly, reaching over to the radio that is modern but designed to look like an old 1940’s style. She notices it’s one of the few items that looks like it’s been unpacked for days. The music fills the room and she watches as his eyes go soft. 

“I know it’s from a kids’ movie, but it’s just so beautiful.” 

“Nothing Pixar makes is a children’s movie.” She says crisply. His smile widens even further and she can’t help but watch the twinkle in his eyes. 

———

About an hour later they’re arguing. 

“No, I don’t care about the advancements Hans Zimmer has made in the field,” Steve spouts, “He wouldn’t have had those opportunities if not for John Williams!”

“So says you!” Peggy argues, “The man took what could have been considered a dying art form and revitalized it!”

Steve’s face goes red, “a dying art form? You take that back!” 

Peggy laughs at his passion and crosses her arms firmly. “No.” 

“Well, Michael Giacchino, James Newton Howard, Harry Gregson Williams, and Alan Silvestri would beg to differ with you.” 

“Don’t you dare throw Michael Giacchino in my face! He came much later, don’t lie!”

Steve crinkles his nose at her and her breath hitches at the sight. He doesn’t notice, carefully using a spatula to transfer now cooled cookies from the rack to a plate. 

He balances the plate and the carton of cookies in one hand, with a glass of cold milk in the other. 

He sets them before her, on a still unpacked box. He pushes another box of books out of the way and sets the milk down carefully on the coffee table. He opens the carton and eyes her with a look she can only describe as smug and nervous at the same time. 

“I’ll not be biased simply because you saved me the other night.” She says haughtily. 

The affront on his face is adorable as he leans against the counter. 

“Are you really a woman who can be bribed?” He teases back. 

“Hmm…” she says, not responding. She delicately picks up one of the store bought cookies, eyeing it, and inspecting it before taking a large bite. She chews thoughtfully before swallowing. “It’s not bad. A bit dry, but a passable cookie.” He narrows his eyes at her assessment but says nothing. She then examines the selection of cookies he’s placed before her. She selects the one that looks the best to her and lifts it up to her nose. It smells heavenly and she tries to keep her face even as she inspects it. It’s perfectly golden brown and looks a touch gooey in the center. She breaks it in half, inspecting it further, making him sigh at her scrutiny. 

She takes a bite, and as the buttery, sweet, and perfectly baked cookie melts on her tongue, the sound she makes can’t be described as innocent. 

“Oh my heavens.“ She sighs, covering her mouth with her other hand. She glances up at him to see his ears a bright pink and eyes fixated on the ground. The sight causes her to giggle and he looks up, surprised. “Well,” she says, wiping her mouth daintily and picking up the crumbs, “I will admit that your cookie has a slight advantage.” 

He flushes, but his smile lights up the room as he chuckles. 

“I’m Maggie, by the way.” She adds and he laughs as he extends his hand for a shake. 

“I’m Steve.” 

“Hello, Steve. Now, are you usually in the habit of seducing girls with baked goods before introducing yourself?”

She’s growing fond, too fond of the specific color that flushes over his cheeks, contrasting nicely with his blue eyes, at almost everything she says. 

But he swallows and his eyes get a glint before he shoots back, “are you in the habit of climbing onto strangers' balconies and staring at them when they’re half-dressed?” 

Her lips part in surprise and after a second she just bursts out laughing.

—————

He’s cleaning up the kitchen, humming to himself as he remembers the look Maggie made and the sound she elicited when she tasted the cookie. Even alone the memory of the sound makes him blush. 

He goes to pick up the plate of cookies from the makeshift coffee table and notices that more than half are missing. He smiles again and makes a note to buy more supplies. 

——————

“I think we have the wrong guy.” She states flatly. 

“What do you mean, Carter? All the intel tells us it’s this apartment.”

“Well, I’m telling you, this isn’t him. He’s huge and—“ she looks at the picture in front of her, a grainy black and white of a skinny man squinting into the sun. “This guy isn’t.” 

“So maybe he worked out?”

“And grew a foot?” 

“Hit a late puberty?” Barton offers. 

“You saw him, Clint. You think this,” she taps the photo, “could have turned into him?”

Clint, her fake assailant from the night of her ‘get rescued by possible contact’ mission, eyes the photo, squinting at it all different ways. “I don’t know. There are some similarities. I got an eyeful of those cheekbones when he was threatening me.” 

Peggy sighs, rolling her eyes. “Yes, well, you didn’t have to be quite so dramatic with the door banging and shouting.” 

Clint gives her a lopsided grin, “come on Pegs, you know we have to sell it. I wanted to make sure I played my part.” 

She turns back to General Phillips. “So how sure are we that he’s even Barnes’ friend?”

Phillips huffs at her and crosses his arms over his chest. “Barnes has been a ghost for three years. This connection, this lead is the first hint at a chance of finding that menace.” He points at the photo. “I don’t know who this shrimp is, but our intel sent this photo, and that address to us, that’s it. So, figure. It. Out.“ 

Peggy sighs, trying to rectify the three different versions of a man she didn’t know. This photo of a small, sharp cheeked man; the large and looming shadow of a man, rescuing her in an alley; and the shy, but quick witted baker with a penchant for painting. 

“Yes, sir.” 

———————

She knocks on his door, a jug of milk in her hands. She puts a smile on her face and waits as she hears footsteps approaching. 

She’s only seen him once in passing since their cookie debate two days ago, and Phillips was already on her tail about ‘ hurrying it up ’. She’d glared at him but then sighed, trying to explain that if she pressed into him too quickly he might get suspicious. But he just growled at her about terrorism and tax payers’ dollars and she’d sighed and resigned herself to the lecture. 

She is looking up when the door opens, and is surprised to find her eyes need to lower to a small woman— no more like a teenager, answering the door. 

“Can I help you?” Says the girl. 

“Oh, uh..” She glances at the door number, wondering if there was a possibility of knocking on the wrong door, but no… there was the same number: 18. “Is this— is this Steve’s apartment?”

The girl narrows her eyes and looks at her suspiciously. 

“And who’s asking?”

“I’m Maggie.” She says, shifting the milk to extend a hand, “Steve helped me out the other day, and then let me have one of his cookies and well…” she looks sheepishly down at the milk as if that would explain it. 

The girl in front of her purses her lips, but just says “wait here”. After a moment she can hear the girl say, “Steve? Some girl is here for you.” 

Peggy huffs, rolling her eyes, but then stops. If she needs to gather intel then she needs to be on everyone’s good side, even petulant teenagers. 

“Some girl?” She hears Steve call back. “Wanda, I swear if this is another prank from Natasha I will—“ he stops as he catches sight of her. “Oh, Maggie!” He looks self consciously down at his paint covered clothes and skin, mercifully he has a shirt on, before he comes over to the door. 

“Oh boy,” he says, noticing the milk, “rough day?”

“The worst.” She says, adding an exaggerated hand to her forehead as if she was going to faint. It elicits the laugh she was hoping for and he waves her in. 

She sets the jug down with a slosh and she watches as he unwraps a platter of cookies. Setting them in the middle of the small island. 

“I see you’ve gotten further unpacked.” She muses, glancing appreciatively at the almost neat space. His furniture has all been unpacked, assembled, and arranged in an orderly fashion. The chairs look plush and cozy if a bit worn, and the small dining table looks like he bought it at a flea market but revamped it. 

“Yeah,” he says, getting two glasses down from a cupboard. “It’s been slow going. Hard to get anything done when I have to go to bed to get to the bakery so early.” 

She nods sympathetically. “How long ago did you move in?” 

He scratches at the back of his neck, “uh… about 8 days ago?” 

“Well, you’re ahead of schedule. It took me almost a month to empty my last box.” He smiles and nudges the cookie plate closer to her. She gratefully grabs one and dunks it in the glass he’s poured for her. She hears a door open and close and her eyebrow raises. 

“That’s Wanda.” Steve says, “She’s my little sister.” 

“Really?” Peggy’s surprised, not that they really knew anything about this guy, but she hasn’t seen anything in the apartment to indicate a sibling. 

“Well, not my blood sister. We grew up together in foster care. I met her when she and her twin brother got separated into different houses—“ His face darkens. 

“So, now she lives here with you?” 

“No, I wish—“ His mouth sets in a grim line, “The court won’t grant me custody because—“ 

“Because they’re a bunch of disgusting rat bastards.” Comes a sharp voice behind her. She turns to find Wanda standing in the doorway, an angry look on her face and a phone dangling in her hand. 

“Wanda,” Steve warns, “I don’t care what kind of garbage your friends spew, I will not accept that sort of language in this house.” He sounds like such a dad in that moment that she expects Wanda to pout or fight or shout back at him, but she just sighs and slumps her shoulders. 

“Sorry.” 

“No apology necessary.” He says calmly. “They are indeed rat bastards.” 

Peggy laughs but watches as Wanda’s eyes narrow at her. She grabs another cookie. 

“Who is this?” Wanda asks. 

“This is Maggie, she’s our next door neighbor.” 

“Hello, Wanda.” Peggy says cheerfully. 

“Hello.” Is Wanda’s curt reply. “Steve, can Natasha come over?” 

“There’s nowhere else you're supposed to be?”

“No.”

“And your fosters know you’re here?”

“Yes, Steve. I told them.”

“Then yeah, that’s fine. But tell her to leave her attitude at home.” 

Wanda rolls her eyes but Peggy notices the affection in them as she holds the phone up to her ear and disappears. 

“I’m sorry,” Peggy begins, “I don’t think I understand the foster care system enough, what does growing up in it entail?”

He winces and she immediately regrets asking, “If it’s too private I don’t—“

“No, no it’s not that, it’s just—” He sighs and takes a cookie for himself. “When I was 14 and Wanda was 7, we got placed in the same house. I don’t know why they didn’t place her in a home with her twin…” he looks out the glass doors to his balcony. “I’d always been an overzealous kid, trying to protect anything I felt like needing protecting, even when I wasn’t strong enough to protect anyone , let alone myself. But Wanda, for some reason, trusted me. We were lucky ones, being able to mostly stay together through multiple different houses and families. We’ve been inseparable ever since.” He turns back to her.  “When I turned 18, I tried to fight for older sibling custody, but the court just laughed at me. I tried again and again until—“ His face turns a shade of red she hadn’t known was possible. “They accused me of trying to adopt her for my own personal reasons.” He grips the counter. 

She gasps. A real gasp. “No…” 

“Yes.” He snaps. Then he takes a steadying breath. “Geez, even now it boils my blood. I got thrown out of court that day for giving the judge a black eye.” 

Peggy’s questioning look is met with a sigh. 

“Her new foster family is actually pretty great. They are fine with her being here when she needs or wants to be and I always make sure they’re kept well aware of anything. And I went to the same public school she is now so I can help with homework or events. She comes here a lot of days after school or during the summer.”

“How old is she now?”

“She’s 16, almost 17.” Peggy calculates his age from hers. He could be 23 or 24, depending on when his birthday fell. She studies him again and it really sinks in how young he is. She’s only 25 herself but he seems infinitely younger with that sad look on his face. 

“Well I’m sure you’re a wonderful big brother, what with all the skills for bake sales.” 

His demeanor softens and he picks up another cookie, “yeah, I’m pretty popular with the PTA.” She laughs and he smiles fully. 

“So, Steve. Tell me more about yourself. You’ve saved me three times now and I know nothing about you.” 

He turns towards the sink, putting his back to her and is silent for a moment. “There’s not much to know, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.” 

“Oh come now, you’ve grown up in foster care and made a name for yourself in baking, you paint, although I still haven’t seen any of the finished pieces.” 

“Oh, it’s just a hobby.” He says, peeling a section of dried paint off his arm. It pulls up the soft blonde hairs on his forearms and he winces. She sees an opening to a question Phillips desperately wants answered and she takes it. 

“You said you weren’t strong enough to protect yourself, but I find that hard to believe given your size now. You must have been a big kid?”

He shifts and she watches as something glazes over his eyes. “Oh you know, it was just one of those things, I hit my growth spurt late.” 

She hates knowing immediately that he’s lying. 

“Ah,” she says noncommittally. “Where do you work? I would love to support your business.” 

“I work at Wilson’s Diner.” He says easily, grasping at the change in topic, “You should come by, their food is great.”

“And your baked goods?”

He laughs, scrubbing a hand through his hair, “yeah, those too. I make a mean peach pie.” 

“I can’t wait to try a slice.” 

——————-

Peggy has stopped counting the cookies she’s eaten by the time another knock is heard on the door. 

Steve leans over the counter and calls out, “Natasha, it's open!” 

The door opens smoothly and a shockingly red-headed girl enters. Backpack slung over a leather jacket and combat boots somehow silently moving on the wooden floors. 

She turns to say hello when her eyes catch on Peggy. Her brow furrows and then her lips purse and Peggy has the feeling she’s going to have a hard time with both of these teenage girls. 

“Natasha, how was school?” Steve asks, not noticing the brief exchange. 

“Fine, I got an A on my speech.” 

“What!” She can hear the pride in Steve’s voice. “Tasha, that’s amazing! You practiced so hard, you earned it.” 

The girl blushes slightly and the adoration in her eyes makes Peggy bite her lip in realization. This girl has a crush on Steve. 

“It’s nothing.” She says, her eyes on the ground. 

“It’s not nothing. When I had to give my speech back in the day I almost cried on stage. So you’re doing great, kid.” 

Natasha shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly but the pride is there. 

“I made some cookies for you and Yelena. Don’t forget them when you leave.” 

“Like I would ever forget to take some of your baked goods home.” 

Steve laughs and nods in the direction of where Wanda is currently. Natasha eyes Peggy again and disappears into the hallway. 

“So you’re a big brother to multiple people I see.” 

“Yeah, well, I always needed one, so it’s nice to be one for a change.” 

“You had a big brother? I thought— with foster care…”

Steve winces mildly and then schools his face. “No— I had a friend, he… He always protected me and looked out for me like a brother.” 

Peggy doesn't miss the wording, “Had a friend?”

“Yeah, he— he got killed overseas. Just over three years ago.”

“Oh Steve, I'm so sorry.” 

“It’s…” he rubs a thumb under his jaw. “It is what it is, I guess. I always wished I could have protected him just once.” 

“What was his name?” She knows she’s pushing, but she hopes her suspicion is wrong. 

“James.” He says quietly. “James Barnes. I called him Bucky though.” 

She bites her tongue between her teeth and uses the fact that his eyes are downcast to study his expression. Unlike a few moments ago, when she knew instantly he was lying. This grief has the ring of sincerity. 

He actually thinks he’s dead 

She raises her milk glass, and says solemnly “To James Barnes.” 

He smiles a sad smile that has her heart wrenching in a way it shouldn’t be and he tips his glass, clinking it against hers. “To Bucky.” 

———————-

She leaves not long after, wanting to report back, but also not wanting to be too pushy. 

Her phone is at her ear the moment she’s in her car. 

“Phillips.” Comes the answer after one ring.

“I’m on my way to the office.”

“I’ll be in mine.”

“See you in 10.”

—————

“He thinks he’s dead.” 

“You’re kidding.”

“No, the man is either a top notch actor, or truthfully believes his best friend is dead.” 

“His best friend is mounting terrorist attacks across four continents.”

“Okay, yes.” She says, waving her hands, “but he doesn’t know that!”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes!” Then she stops and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, I’ll admit that my gut tells me that he doesn’t know. But… I’ve met very capable liars and actors before and so possible deception can’t be ignored.” The thought of his quick and obvious lie about being a big kid rings in her mind. 

Philips’ nods approvingly and looks at the file they’ve started gathering about Steve.

“This is a man whose backstory is so simple, yet seems to be missing so many pieces.” 

“Well, I haven’t gotten his last name yet. But when I do, we will be able to look him up in the foster care system.”

“ If he’s telling the truth about being a foster kid.” 

Peggy grimaces. “Well, let’s hope something he’s told me is true or we’re going to run out of leads.” 

“Who’s this new kid you mentioned?”

“Two actually,” she says, “One is a girl he grew up with in foster care, Wanda, and the other is a friend of Wanda’s from school named Natasha. Again, last names not mentioned.” 

“He lives with two teenage girls?”

“No.” Peggy says a tad too sharply, earning her a raised eyebrow. “No, Natasha came over to do homework with Wanda, and Wanda has a foster family, but she is over there a lot because Steve is like a big brother to her.”

“Ah.” 

“I’m going to go to the diner he works for and try to get a few of his coworkers to talk about him, maybe get some more details.”

“What should I do?” Clint pipes up after being uncharacteristically quiet through the meeting. 

“Well, I think we have used up your cover. Now that he’s seen our face, I don’t want you around unless it’s for a similar need.” 

Clint pouts but then goes back to twirling his pen between his fingers. “Phillips, can I be put on the Stark case?”

“Barton.”

“Oh come one, a billionaire tech giant goes missing and no one can find him?” 

“You just want the reward money.” Peggy snipes.

“Uh, duh.” Clint puffs out his chest. “You know what a man can do with that kinda money?”

Peggy rolls her eyes but turns back to Phillips. “It might not be such a terrible idea. Howard Stark’s disappearance does seem odd, and the location he was last seen was one of Barnes’ larger attacks. Maybe there’s a connection Barton can find.”

“His son is desperate to find him.” Barton adds,  “Though it seems weird since they’d been public about their distaste for each other beforehand.” Barton comments.

“Yes, well having your father abducted can put petty fights aside.” Peggy retorts.

Clint rolls his eyes but she knows he agrees with her. “Tony Starks only what? 19? He’s not wanting to take on daddy’s company just yet.”

“Whatever his reasons are, it might help us in the Barnes case. And—“ She looks at the measly information they have, “We need all the help we can get.”

——————

The next day, she steps into the diner and is immediately taken aback. She’d expected a 1950’s theme, like most old themed diners relied upon. But this wasn’t, it was designed to look like a 1930-40’s soda counter, complete with an automat on the right wall. 

She walks around, looking at all the details and running her fingers over the record player that while looking old, seemed to be connected to something via bluetooth. It’s cozy tunes warms her up. She’s eyeing the dark vinyl booths and the lovely wooden floors when she hears a voice. 

“Can I help you?” She turns to find a large man, with a very pleasant smile standing behind the counter. 

“Oh, hi!” She says, stepping forward towards the counter, it’s metal and brass accents twinkling at her under the warm lights. “I was recommended this place by a friend and I thought I’d give it a go.” She slides onto a plush barstool and looks around again. “This is such a lovely place.” She comments. 

“Thanks,” The man says genuinely, “We’ve worked really hard to give it that old nostalgic feel without sacrificing any of the modern convenience.” 

She smiles, “Are you the owner?” 

He nods, “Co-Owner.” He says quickly, “I’m Sam Wilson. My sister and I run the place.”

“Well, my compliments to the designers.” 

He laughs and shakes his head, “Well I can’t take much credit for that, I wanted to go more modern truth be told, but one of my bakers and Sarah, my sister, insisted on the old school feel.” 

Her ears perk up, remembering Steve’s old styled radio, “A baker? You have a bakery?” He points to the automat, 

“We don’t really have a traditional bakery case. It got too crowded trying to keep up with the diner and bakery demands. So we installed the automat. Makes restocking items so much easier, and not in the way of the kitchen either.”

She pretends to act confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what an automat is.” 

“Here let me show you.” He says with an easy smile.

He leads her over to the many tiny glass doors, where all sorts of tempting treats await behind them. 

“You find what you want, and then go to the pay station, insert the cash or swipe your card and enter the code for your item. That door will pop open and you take your food.” 

She smiles and starts inspecting the items. When she doesn’t find any recognizable cookies, she thinks of something else. “Do you have any peach pie?”

Something flickers over his face and he rolls his eyes. “Damn.”

She startles, “Oh no, what? Should I not have—“

“No, no,” he laughs and turns towards the counter. “Angie!” 

A small petite brunette pops up from somewhere behind the counter, a stack of order notebooks in her hands. 

“Yeah?”

“You win again.” 

She drops the notebooks and claps her hands with glee. “I told you Sammy, I told you. He’s been back like what? 6 days?”

Sams huffs and nods, turning back towards Peggy. “Sorry about that. Peach Pie is in B6.” He points it out and she nods, bringing out a few bills and sliding them into the slot. The door pops open, and she takes a quick second to glance inside, but she can only catch snippets of a bakery kitchen. 

She takes her pie back over to the counter where Angie is waiting eagerly with a hot cup of coffee and a small bowl of ice cream. 

“He’ll never forgive me if I don’t offer.” She says without any explanation. 

She snatches Peggy’s plate, carefully dollops the ice cream on top of the pie, and sets it back down, then picks up a shaker and Peggy watches as a very light layer of cinnamon sugar settles over the whole thing. She sets the plate back down in front of her and slides the coffee cup next to it.

“He’s going to give all of my clients diabetes.” Sam says with a pleasant eye-roll. 

“You own a diner, Sam.” Angie shoots back, “If you were concerned about people’s health you picked the wrong profession.” 

Peggy feels subconscious as they stand there, obviously waiting for her to take the first bite. “Tally ho, I suppose.” She says lightly. Hesitantly she puts the fork in her mouth, looking awkwardly at them, but the minute the cold fresh peaches, cool ice cream, and warm crust hit her mouth she’s not paying them any mind. The cool sweetness of the ice cream adds a creaminess that heightens the fresh and sweet peaches. Her thoughts transport her back to summers at her aunt's cottage in England, picking ripe sweet peaches off the tree and rolling dough in cinnamon sugar to fry as a treat. Before the bad days, before the loss. 

She hears a sound of surprise and she looks up, her eyes catching on Angie’s who has a look of concern. 

“You okay, English?” She says softly.

Peggy reaches up with the back of her hand and wipes the few tears that have fallen. She chuckles in disbelief. “Am I crying?”

Sam nods and then laughs, “You are indeed crying over peach pie. Damn.” He shakes his head and then laughs again, “I gotta give that kid a raise.” 

She wipes again at her face and allows herself to laugh. Taking a sip of coffee to steady her nerves. 

“Wow, I’m so sorry, how embarrassing.” 

“His baking will do that to you.” 

She finally remembers her task. “I think he’s my neighbor.”

“Oh, Steve?” Angie says easily, “Yeah, he’s our baker extraordinaire. He’s been working here for years, well I guess except the last—“

“Angie,” Sam cuts in, his voice is light but there’s a tone to it that Peggy catches, “Let’s not bore this nice lady with our employee’s work history.” 

“Oh!” Angie blushes, “Oh of course, sorry about that.” 

“I’m Maggie, by the way.” Peggy offers. “I think since you’ve seen me cry over baked goods you can know my name.”

They laugh but Angie frowns. “I don’t know, Maggie doesn’t suit you.”

“Angie!”

“No offense, of course,” she adds at Sam’s warning, “I’m just saying you don’t seem like a Maggie. I’m going to keep calling you English until I think of something better.” 

Before either can respond, the order up bell is being rung and she disappears quick as a flash. 

“Sorry about her,” Sam says, ‘“She’s a bit of a wild card, but man no one can handle a grumpy customer or a wild toddler like her. And she’s efficient, that’s for sure.” 

Peggy nods and then leans forward. “When I ordered the peach pie, you said she won, what did that mean?”

“Well,” Sam says, leaning his hip against the counter, moving out of the way for another server to pass. “Since Steve came back from a work break, we’ve made a bet to see which of his items will be ordered first. I don’t know how Angie does it, but she guesses right 90% of the time, I’m convinced she’s communing with the bakery gods.” He laughs at his joke but then points to the peach pie. “You’re actually not the first person to cry while eating something he’s baked, can you believe that?”

Her eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Wow, you’re lucky to have him.” 

His mouth pulls up in a sideways grin and he eyes her with a realization. “So you’re the girl with the hallway guy.” 

She winces at the description but shrugs her shoulders. “That’s me.” She thinks quickly, if Sam is protective of Steve, for whatever reason she hasn’t discovered yet, then being on his good side is vital. And to do that… she needs to seem vulnerable… So she looks at Sam and scrunches her nose, tapping her fork on her plate. “Did he tell you about the paint and the staring?” 

His brow furrows and he shakes his head. 

She allows the blush to color her cheeks, using the emotion she’d actually felt to add a ring of truth to her story. “Well, when I barged in on him that night, he was painting, shirtless I might add.” She hears Sam snort but she continues, “when I saw him I must admit I openly stared, never having seen quite a sight like that.” She lets out a soft giggle, and watches as Sam’s eyes soften. Gotcha , she thinks. “Anyways, he was quite my knight in shining armor, scaring away the idiot banging on my door.” She stabs a peach with her fork. “I tried to thank him later by giving him cookies, not knowing he was a baker. We’ve only talked a few times since, but he seems very nice.” She ducks her head, pretending to be shy, “Do you have any tips on how to talk to a very handsome baker?”

Sam crosses his arms over his chest and smiles wide, rocking softly back and forth on his feet. “Well, to get to know one Steve Rogers, one has to get on Wanda’s good side.”

She doesn’t react to finally hearing his last name. Phillips is going to be thrilled. “Oh I’ve noticed.” She says with a sheepish grin, “I don’t think she likes me very much.” 

Sam leans on the counter on his elbows, “Oh, so you’ve already met her? She can be a tough cookie to crack, her and Steve go way back, but if you show that you’ll treat him right, you’ll be golden.” He looks pensive for a moment, “but truthfully, the best way to get to know Steve is to spend time with him.” 

“Is he… is he here?” 

“Not right now.” 

“Oh, well, thank you for the advice, and the pie.” 

“Don’t thank me,” he says, walking back towards the kitchen with a wink, “thank Steve.”

She drops some bills on the counter and then scoops the last bite of pie into her mouth. “I will make sure to do that.” She smiles and heads out, eager to go tell her new information.

———————

“Rogers.” She says, smiling, “Steve Rogers.” 

“I can’t believe we’re an intelligence organization and we couldn’t even figure out his name.” Barton laments.

“It’s not that.” Phillips harrumphs and sits at his desk. “It’s that this intel is so delicate that we were afraid any cyber snooping would be noticed by Barnes and keep him away. When we got the address and picture, we decided to do it the old fashioned way. Takes longer, but truthfully we usually end up with more information because it’s shared openly.” 

Peggy nods, agreeing. “I’ve already given the name to the techs, however they’ve been instructed to be very careful with how they utilize the search engines. We don’t want anyone tipped off if his name is searched a bunch of times.” 

“Exactly.” Phillips says, eyeing a folder.

“Boring.” 

“Shut up, Clint. How’s the Stark case?”

“Dead ends all over. But honestly, it seems purposeful. So I’m going to start pulling on all the dead ends and hope I find a loose thread.” 

“Any connection to him and Barnes?”

“Not yet.” 

“Carter!” 

A voice she recognized as the tech she’d given Steve’s name to rushes into the office. 

“What is it?”

“I found some records I thought you should see.” 

The short guy with round spectacles has always been incredibly smart and quick at his job, but something about him always made her twitchy. “Thanks.”

She takes the folders from him and opens to the first pages. Several school photos have been printed. And she sucks in a breath as she looks at them. She holds them up, showing the skinny sharp boned kid that matched the grainy photo they’d first received. 

“It’s him!” She studies his eyes and face and hair and suddenly she is sure that somehow the behemoth of a neighbor she has now used to be much shorter and thin as a whippet. 

“How!” Clint exclaims, eyeing the photos. “I know I said late puberty but look, here’s his senior class photo, he’s 18 here, and he’s what.. 23 now? There’s just no way. No way he’s grown this much in that short amount of time!”

Neither her or Phillips comment. She finishes a stack of enlistment papers with rejections on them, and then the last with a 1A. “He was in the military?” She says in disbelief. 

“What?” Phillips bellows, snatching the enlistment form out of her hands. 

He stares at it for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “Oh.” 

“What?” Clint asks, leaning forward. 

“We need to go way deeper.” He finally says, shuffling the papers. “If he’s military then there’s a record of him somewhere and I want it. And now—“ he looks up, “Carter?”

“Yes, sir?” 

“You need to be twice as careful. If he’s military, we have no idea what his training or knowledge is. I don’t want to lose one of my best agents because we weren’t careful enough. Dismissed.”

As Peggy leaves his office, two things are sure. One, Phillips just gave her a compliment that has her swelling with pride, and two, Steve Rogers is a mystery that she refuses to leave unsolved. 

———

Chapter Text

She is sitting at her desk when the tech comes running over, “the military documents Phillips requested.” 

She nods, taking them and flipping open the folder. The amount of redacted information heavily outweighs the rest. She huffs, “we work for SHIELD, can’t we get higher clearance on these files?”

Zola twitches his nose, fidgeting, “this is the highest level of clearance.” 

“What?”

“When they sent the documents over, I asked for more details and they said the only way to know more of the details was to have been on the missions.” 

Her mouth gapes. Never in her life had she heard of such a thing. 

“Phillips is going to blow a gasket” 

Zola just shrinks into his lab coat and disappears. 

——————-

She walks purposefully towards Phillips’ office and raps on the glass. 

“Come in.” 

She enters and tosses the file onto his desk, leaning her hip against the wooden edge. “Don’t shoot the messenger.” 

His eyebrows raise as he reaches for the folder. 

“Is that about our mystery guy?” Clint asks, popping his head in. 

“Sort of.” Peggy groans. 

She watches as Phillips’ face turns red and his eyebrows raise. He opens his mouth to speak but she just repeats what Zola told her. 

“WHAT!” He bellows, throwing the folder down. “In all my life—“ 

The tirade continues for a few minutes before he settles himself back into the large leather chair and huffs. “What the hell was this kid up to?” He grouses, and then stabs a finger at the folder, “And was Barnes involved?” He doesn’t wait for her to respond. “Find out, Carter. This little soldier was doing uncle Sam’s dirty work and I want to know what it was.” 

“Yes, sir.” She nods, getting ready to leave. 

“And Carter?”

“Yes, sir?”

“If you can’t figure it out soon, I’m going to send Lorraine.” 

She bristles, her jaw setting. She hates when he threatens that. Even if she understands the urgency of the situation, she hates when he sends Lorraine in to seduce information out of people. “That won’t be necessary, sir.” 

“We’ll see.” 

——————

She leaves work and hurries to her ‘apartment’. When they’d first received the intel, shield had immediately rented out a few apartments in the building, upgrading the current residents to a nicer complex, or simply paying them to move rooms. 

She steps inside the relatively barren rooms and throws her bags on the couch. She changes, throwing on leggings and a hoodie, before going to the freezer and grabbing a tub of ice cream, and some sprinkles. She steps out of her door and towards Steve’s. 

A quick knock from her has something inside the apartment scrambling. “Who is it?” 

“It’s Maggie.” She calls lightly. 

The silence that follows makes her shift her weight, that hadn’t been Steve’s voice that asked. She looks down at her watch. It’s way too late in the afternoon for him to be baking right now. 

The lock clicks and the door opens, Wanda stands there, a runny nose and red eyes. Peggy switches modes immediately. “What’s wrong, who did this?”

Wanda looks taken aback, but then a small smile appears on her lips. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just sick.” 

The relief Peggy feels is strange and unexpected. Now that she knows Steve’s military, and highly classified at that, everything seems like it could be a threat. She eyes Wanda again and sees that her breathing is indeed a little clogged and eyes glassy. 

“Can I help in any way?”

“Uh…”

“Is Steve here?”

“No. He’s at uh— he’s at an appointment.” The lie doesn’t come off her tongue very smoothly, and Peggy’s interest at where Steve actually is is piqued. 

“Here, let me help.” She motions her hand inside. “Would you let me?”

Wanda hesitates and then shrugs, clearly feeling awful. She steps aside and lets Peggy pass. 

She eyes the nest of blankets Wanda has made on the couch, and stops in surprise at the show on the screen. “I love this show!” She says smiling. 

“Well, of course you do,” Wanda huffs with a small smile, “you’re British.”

Peggy nods and looks questioningly at the freezer. “You think he’d mind if I put my ice cream in his freezer?” 

Something about the phrase makes Wanda chuckle and she shakes her head. “No, I don’t think he’d mind.” 

Peggy does so and looks around, the kitchen is neat and tidy except for the can of soup with a can opener stuck in its top and an empty pot left sitting on the counter. 

“What happened here?”

Wanda looks sheepishly up at her from under the blanket she’s wrapped herself in. “I couldn’t get the can open, so I gave up.” 

“Are you feeling that weak?” Peggy asks, concern in her voice, “your muscles are that drained?”

“Oh no,” Wanda says quickly, “it’s just he has the can opener—“ She stops herself. Blinking owlishly up at Peggy. “I just uh, couldn’t do it.”

The quick change has Peggy’s suspicions back up. “Maybe I should try.” 

“No, uh— You don’t have to do that.” But Peggy has gripped the handle of the can opener and begun twisting the knob. When it doesn’t so much as budge, her eyebrows furrow. She tries again, twisting the knob with all her strength and only barely just getting the blade to rotate around the rim of the can. “Bloody blazes.” She exclaims, huffing at her reddened fingers. “How in the hell does he open cans?”

The next lie comes easier for Wanda, “he doesn’t use canned food much.” 

Peggy eyes the soup can. Chicken noodle. She’s never been bested by a can of soup before and she doesn’t intend to start now. “Does Steve have a bottle opener?”

‘I don’t know, maybe? He doesn’t drink.” The admission has Peggy’s eyebrows raising and she reaches for a drawer. “May I?”

Wanda nods and Peggy opens the drawer closest to her to find a perfectly sectioned and organized baker's drawer. Measuring cups and spoons lined up neatly with spatulas, whisks, dough cutters, and anything else he might need. She gets through three drawers before she finds what she’s looking for. A bottle opener with the sharp triangle pop cap ledge. She makes multiple holes in the soup can lid, big enough for the chunks to slide out and she’s pouring it into the pan and has it heating on the stove in minutes. 

“I shoulda thought of that.” Wanda says sleepily. 

“I don’t think you can do much mental acrobatics in your state.” Peggy says primly, sitting beside her on the couch. “You rest, I’ll wake you when it’s heated.”

“Shouldn’t trust a stranger.” Wanda mumbles. 

Peggy smiles, good instincts she thinks. “I’m not a stranger. I’m your neighbor. I promise not to kill you.” The joke has Wanda narrowing her eyes but then chuckling and settling back into her blankets as she sleepily closes her eyes.  

“If you did, you’d have to face Steve.” Wanda mumbles it so calmly, and with such a simple sincerity that Peggy feels a true sense of dread at the idea. Who was Steve that the military would redact basically his entire record, but that he could win such loyalty from those around him? 

Peggy thinks about this as she listens to Paul Hollywood explain why this bake is extremely important to the group.

————————

Something gently shakes her awake. She yawns and stretches, opening her eyes slowly. She takes in the two faces staring at her. “Wanda?” She says, “how long have I been asleep?”

“Dunno,” she says shrugging, “Tash?”

“I got here about 7p.m. And you were both already asleep.” The red head says. 

“7!” Peggy exclaims, looking at her watch. She balks at the time “9:08p.m.”  She rubs her eyes and glances around. Natasha is snuggled close to Wanda, under the blankets and Peggy is on Wanda’s other side, an empty soup bowl at her feet on the coffee table. The TV is still playing something, but it’s not a show she recognizes. 

The sound of a throat clearing has all three of their heads whipping up to the hallway entrance. Steve stands there, headphones resting around his neck, and a smile on his lips as he takes all three of them in. “Get a good nap in?” He teases. 

Peggy lets a blush cross her cheeks, and she chuckles, “this couch is dangerously comfortable.” She sits up and stretches her neck. “I should be going.” 

“No!” Wanda says softly, “don’t go. Stay.” The quick response has even Natasha blinking in surprise. Wanda shrinks a bit, but she speaks again, voice muffled by blankets. “You haven’t shared your ice cream yet.” 

Peggy allows a smile to grow on her lips. “I don’t think you should be eating ice cream in your state.” 

Wanda glances at Steve and pretends to look nonchalant as she speaks again, “But Steve isn’t sick. And he loves ice cream.”

Something akin to thrill runs up Peggy’s spine at the prospect, but she tamps it down, she can however be happy that she has somehow managed to win over Wanda during this afternoon’s events. She looks up to see Steve glaring at Wanda, but that beautiful blush is evident across his cheeks in the lamplight. 

When Wanda doesn't back down, he just sighs and looks at Peggy. “Maggie, would you like some of your own ice cream with some fresh snickerdoodles I made?”

Peggy nods eagerly and extricates herself from the couch. 

She sits on the stools and watches as he gets the ice cream out of the freezer and begins making ice cream sandwiches, complete with being rolled in sprinkles. 

“What time did you get home?” She asks. She is curious, but also a little concerned she hadn’t woken up to his or Natasha’s arrivals. 

“Oh maybe around 6:30?” He says, brushing a few stray sprinkles into the sink. 

“I’m mortified,” she admits honestly, “I can’t believe I slept so long on your couch, I really do apologize.” 

He hands her a small ceramic plate with a delightful looking ice cream sandwhich on it and he dusts off his hands. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I should be thanking you for taking care of Wanda. I had to be somewhere but she I didn’t want her walking home all sick, so I had to leave her alone and I—“ he scrunches his nose, “I’m just glad you came over. Thanks for making her soup.” 

“Of course, although I had quite the fight with your can opener.” She watches as a brief flash of something crosses his features and is gone. “I had to resort to more caveman measures.” She finishes slowly. 

“Oh, yeah.” He says calmly, scrubbing at the back of his neck, “I got to get that thing fixed.” He turns towards the sink, rinsing a spoon and she feels a tension that she doesn't like. She needs to keep them at ease, 

“Natasha?” She calls. 

“Yeah?” A head pops up over the back of the couch. 

“You want an ice cream sandwich? There’s plenty of ice cream here.” 

“Sure, I can never resist Steve’s cookies.” Wanda’s head pops up next to hers. 

“I want one.” 

“No.” Steve and Peggy say at the same time. Steve blushes but Peggy just laughs. 

“Not with your immune system.” Peggy says sternly. Wanda huffs but nestles back into her blankets. 

Natasha walks over and slides onto the stool next to Peggy. 

“How did Yelena like the last batch?” Steve asks as he makes another. 

“Oh she loved them,” Natasha says eagerly, “She told me to tell you thank you. But—“

“But?” Steve’s tone turns wary.

“She and I agree that they needed more cinnamon and sugar.”

“I thought it had plenty of cinnamon,” Steve counters. 

“Yeah, of course you would .” Natasha says snarkily before her words die off. A tense silence falls and Peggy hears Natasha clamp her jaw shut. Then she’s babbling. “I mean. Not you. Just the proverbial you. I think the cookies were great. You’re just used to your own baking that—“

“Natasha.” He says calmly, his face a blank mask, as she shrinks in her seat and falls silent.

Peggy doesn't know what just happened but it was something important. Something about Steve. 

“Well I think these taste great.” Peggy says, taking a deliberate bite of her sandwich and trying to smooth the situation over even though she’s unsure what needs to be smoothed. 

“Thanks.” Steve monotones. 

“I should be going.” Peggy says, clearly seeing the signs of distress. “I’ll check on you tomorrow, okay Wanda?”

“Okay, thanks.” 

She slips out the door and dashes into her house. Sliding across the wooden floors and pressing her ear against the thin walls. She can barely hear the mumbling but she catches some words. 

“ —be more careful”

“I—- sorry — accident”

“ —no one—- knowing ——— dangerous— remember”

“I know—- won’t — again—— sorry”

There’s a silence . 

“Forgive me?’

“—course”

She pushes off the wall and settles on the counter of her own kitchen. 

What the hell was that?

————————

“He’s hiding something.” Peggy muses, staring at the blacked out words. 

Phillip literally scowls and Clint laughs bemusedly. “Ya think?”

Peggy scowls back. “Shut it.” She rubs at her eyes. After her encounter in Steve’s apartment she’d stayed awake flip flopped between subtle online research and going through the slim file they have on Steve and the much thicker one they have on Barnes. 

“I’m still lost on why Barnes went psycho.” Clint muses. “How does a decorated sergeant go from American war hero, to unstable terrorist almost instantly?’

“We’ve been over this.” Phillips gruffs.

“You can’t just say ‘he went cuckoo bananas’ and expect that to be an acceptable answer.” 

“Maybe he became disillusioned?” Peggy offers. 

“With what?” Clint snaps, shoving the folder away from him. “With America? Okay, when, and how? Was there a bad mission? A hostage situation gone south? And let’s not forget about golden baker boy, over here.” He thumbs at Peggy. “He paints, he bakes, he helps his little ‘sister’ and he’s also the most terrifying soldier in history?” He points at the redacted pages. “What in the hell causes this type of erasure? Why does his career line up for when Barnes goes off the grid? Why did he come home? What the hell do we actually know?” He’s panting at the end of his tirade and Peggy watches as Phillips’ face morphs into annoyance. 

“Your search for Stark not going so well?” Peggy guesses. 

“Can it, Queen Victoria.” He snaps, using her least favorite nickname given to her on her first day by a colleague. 

“Wow. That bad, huh?” She muses, not taking the bait. 

Clint deflates and sinks back to his chair. “How can a man be worth billions of dollars, be on every newsfeed and magazine in the world, have the biggest weapons contract with the US government and then just vanish? How?”

“Maybe it’s not a missing person case. Maybe you need to be searching for a body.” Phillip says flatly. 

“That’s a good point,” Peggy states. “He’s been missing for what, almost 7 months and there’s no sign of him, and no ransom requested? He’s probably at the bottom of the river by now.” 

Clint’s face twists into disgust. “How can you guys just say that? Like he’s not a human being? Like he doesn’t matter?”

“No need to get sentimental, Barton.”

“Whatever. I’m getting coffee.” He disappears through the door and Peggy is left sitting there, eyes wide and mind wheeling with what Clint had just accused her of: Heartlessness. Then she shoves that thought down. She doesn’t have time to worry about everyone else’s feelings. Mission first. Feelings second. Maybe. 

—————————-

She stumbles on an uneven stone. Her heel clacking against the quiet night as she walks further from the Main Street. Her stomach roils from the ghastly amount of whisky neats she’s imbibed. 

It still didn’t matter. Nothing could erase the letter. The anguished look on her parents faces as they were told their son was never coming home. Captured then killed. Dog tags found and body basically unidentifiable, burnt to a crisp. 

She heaves over a trash can, spewing the contents of her stomach. Wiping her mouth she grabs for the wall, pushing herself upright and forcing her feet to move forward. She has to get to her apartment. She needs sleep and water and real food. Her leave is over tomorrow and she longs for the mind-numbing work ahead of her. 

A hand grabs at her waist. 

“Hello there,” a crisp British accent says too loudly for her pounding head. “Need some help?”

“Bugger off.” She manages to say, shoving at him. 

“Oh, no need to be so frightful. I only want to offer a helping hand.” 

He snakes his arm around her waist, pulling her closer and his other hand reaches to grab lower. She hisses and attempts to stomp on his foot, but her uncoordinated feet move groggily and he just laughs. 

“Now, now. Where are your manners?” 

Her head is pounding, mouth dry, and adrenaline is starting to spike. But she can’t seem to get free of his grasp. He drags her a few feet and turns a corner into a dark alley, shoving her against a wall. Her head cracks against the bricks making her cry out in pain. 

“Shh, love.” He says in such a sickeningly sweet tone she wants to vomit again. But he’s kissing her, her lips, her neck, her collarbone. 

“Stop.” She tries to sound commanding, shoving him away from her again. He just smiles and grabs her waist tighter. 

“I like my girls a little feisty.” He sneers, reaching to grab her hips. 

“Get off of me!” She cries out. Using her nails against his face. 

“Listen here you little—“ his next words are cut off.

“Hey!” A deep booming voice cuts through the quiet night. Her accoster is being dragged backwards. “Get off of her, you jackass. Get outta here!” The man tries to fight back but the looming figure just decks him. Knocking him into a heap on the ground that doesn’t stir again. 

The figure turns towards her although she’s sure he can’t really see her, with how dark the alley is. She can just make out his broad figure, and a glint of light hair with the streetlight. “Are you okay?”

She nods, which he seems to sense and he quickly turns, hailing a cab. “Take her where she needs to go.” The voice commands the cabbie, handing him some money. 

His head whips up as if his name has been called, but she doesn’t hear anything. 

“I gotta go.” He says, “Sorry I can't take you somewhere safe, but the cab will take you wherever you need to go.” He nods at her and she barely hears someone shouting the word “Captain” before he’s gone . 

She awakes with a start. Breathing heavily and feeling a sheen of sweat on her forehead. 

She tries to deny it. To shake off the eerie feeling. It can’t be. But as she lays there, her mind replaying the memory, she has the unshakeable feeling that her rescuer that night, and her new neighbor, are one and the same. 

———————-

Steve rolls the dough over in his hands. Evenly mixing the butter and flour and salt to make a perfect pie crust. 

“Steve?” He looks up to see Sam eyeing him. “You got a minute?”

“Yeah, Sam, what’s up?” He sets the dough down on the floured surface and wipes his hands on his apron. 

“I got a call.” 

Steve’s brow furrows. “Okay?”

“A call from Fury.” 

Steve stiffens. “Why?”

“He says that they’ve gotten a few pings off your name.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Someone up high requested your records.”

Steve’s head tips back and he sighs. “Why?”

“We don’t know yet. I just wanted to give you a heads up.” 

“What do I do?” As a fellow veteran, and friend, Sam was always good at giving advice. 

“Let’s not pretend our situations are exactly the same.” Sam says softly, “But if I was you and someone was sniffing where they shouldn’t, I’d make sure they knew their place. But.” He stares at Steve. “No matter what you volunteered for originally and your reasons for doing so.” Steve rolls his eyes. “You were honorably discharged. You walked away. Don’t let anyone suck you back in if you don’t want it.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Okay then.” 

The bell over the door dings and Sam disappears. 

Steve goes back to work before he hears his name. 

“Hey, you got somebody named Steve workin’ here?”

His ears perk up and he waits, “why do you ask?” He hears Sam’s good natured reply. 

“I’m lookin’ for him.” The snark reply comes. 

“Oh yeah?” Sam’s voice shifts, his military training popping out, “and who are you?”

The voice falters, Steve can hear the heart rate elevating, but there was something metallic and weird about it. “I’m Tony Stark.” Steve’s mouth gapes, he knows that name.

“Steve?” Sam’s voice calls. 

He wipes his hands on his apron again and steps out from behind the automat wall. He walks forward and approaches the pair. Sam stands, hands crossed over his chest, but Steve knows it’s out of apprehension. 

“I’m Steve.” He says plainly, reaching his hand out for a shake. 

Tony stares at the hand and then reaches out, grasping it. Steve can feel Tony gripping it firmly and then releasing quickly. 

“You were looking for me?” Steve prods, pretending to not know why one of the richest kids in the world is looking for him. 

“Uh, yeah.” He shifts and Steve motions for a booth. They sit and Sam brings out coffee cups. 

“You drink coffee?” Sam asks. 

“Like it’s going out of style.” Tony quips back, not taking his eyes of Steve. 

Steve stares back and they sit quiet for a while. 

“You knew my dad?” He asks finally. 

“No.”

“A liar. Good to know.” 

Steve huffs and scrubs a hand down his face. “If you knew I knew him then why ask?”

“Testing the waters.” 

“For what?”

“Sharks.” 

The cryptic nature of the conversation is starting to grate on Steve, he was never much for subterfuge. “What do you need?”

“You know where he is?”

“No.” Tony eyes him for a moment and then deflates. 

“Yeah, me either.” When he doesn’t feel inclined to keep going Steve presses again. 

“What did you want to see me for?”

“I found some of dad’s old files. Work with a doctor named Ersk—“

“DON’T.” Steve snaps, his hands gripping his jeans under the table. “Don’t.” He says softer. “Please.” 

Tony had drawn back at his outburst but then leans forward in surprise. “You’re joking.” He huffs out a surprise breath, his eyes lighting up, “You knew him? You got to meet him?” 

Steve swallows thickly. Flashes of his last moments, the spy, the bullet. Erskine’s reminder. Not a perfect soldier, a good man . 

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “I knew him.” He rests his hands on the table, gripping the handle of his mug.

Steve looks up to see Tony’s face, mouth parted slightly and eyes glazed as he thinks. His eyebrows keep shifting as if he’s mentally calculating something. 

Steve could have reacted. He sees the bread knife coming, but he is so unsure about what was happening that he doesn't move or block it. Tony slices a cut against Steve’s knuckles. A thin line running down all four index fingers. Steve jerks back at the sharp pain and stares incredulously at Tony who is already studying Steve’s reaction and the expression is so like Howards that Steve winces at the sight. 

“It’s you.” Tony states flatly. 

“Kid, you can’t just go around slicing peoples hands.” Steve swipes for a napkin and holds it against his knuckles, bringing his hand under the table. 

“I thought the notes were theoretical. They cut off. But now it makes so much sense!” Tony’s still staring at him, almost talking to himself as Steve waits. 

Tony snaps to attention and looks at him with a quizzical smirk. “Someone assaults you with a knife and all you do is sit there and tell them not to? Also, for your information, kid, I’m only like 4 years younger than you.” 

Sam takes this moment to reappear, “can I get you anything to eat?” He asks with eyebrows raised. 

‘Yeah, get me whatever this guy made last.” 

Sam looks at Steve. 

“The cinnamon coffee cake muffins. A13.” 

“Coming right up.” Sam walks away and Tony stares at Steve. 

“Let me see your hand.” 

“What?”

“Let me see your hand. I need to know if I’m right.” 

Steve keeps his hand hidden. His mind whirling. Okay, so this kid has Howard’s notes, and Erskine’s. He thinks about lying, about trying to play it off, but he knows he can’t do that, seems like this kid can smell lies. 

He brings his hand up and removes the napkin. The tiny droplets of blood that had spilled are dried on the napkin and the cut is already a fading pink line. 

“Holy shit.” Tony says, grabbing Steve’s hand and twisting it to look at it better. 

“Not exactly the wording I would use, but… yeah.” 

“Why you?” Tony asks suddenly, his eyes boring into Steve’s.

“No idea.” 

“Liar.” 

“What, you think you know?” Steve snaps, leaning forward, hand gripping the edge of the table. “Does it tell you in Howard’s notes why they chose me? Be—“ he hears a throat clearing and he looks up to find Sam staring at his hand. He looks down and sees the finger indents in the metal siding and hard plastic top. 

“Oh—“ He pulls his hand back and grimaces, “sorry, Sam. I’ll fix it.” 

Sam sets a huge muffin in front of Tony and an egg sandwich in front of Steve. “Eat,” is all he says. 

Tony digs into the muffin, his eyes widen and he scarfs it down. 

“Hey, woah.” Steve says, “slow down.”

“I haven’t eaten anything like this in ages.” Tony garbles, mouth full.

“All your money and you can’t afford good food?”

“You’d be surprised what garbage rich people think is food.” He says unabashedly, eyeing the plate in front of him. 

“Hey Sam?” Steve calls, “How about that one breakfast sandwich for Tony and bring him a bowl of grits too.” 

“Grits?”

“Smoked Gouda grits. Just trust me.” 

Tony eyes him with a renewed interest and just nods. 

Sam appears moments later with an egg, cheese, and chive breakfast sandwich on one of Steve’s croissants, and a small bowl of grits on the side. Tony waits and Steve gestures for him to begin. 

Tony takes one bite of the grits experimentally before his eyes turn into saucers and he’s shoveling another bite in his mouth. 

“Geez, you need to eat more often if you’re this starved.” 

“Growing boy.” Tony snipes in between bites. But Steve can see the carefully veiled anxiety running up this kid’s spine. Tired eyes, pale in color, and just a bit twitchy, like he hasn’t slept in weeks and is relying solely on caffeine to keep him running. 

After the sandwich and grits are gone, and he’s devoured another one of Steve’s cinnamon muffins, Steve finally asks the question he’s been waiting for. 

“Why find me now?”

“I didn’t know about you til just a few days ago.” Tony starts, wiping his mouth on a napkin and gripping the coffee cup to his chest like it’s a lifeline. 

“After dad left, I tried everything I could to search for him, and I started breaking through his company's security and firewalls to figure it out. Just about a week ago I broke through the second to last one, and lo and behold the notes about their plans for a serum and its effects came through. After a crap ton of illegal digging through military and gov files I come up empty. Then I get an envelope. Just a name and an address.” 

“Wait-“ Steve’s brain halts. “What do you mean ‘when your dad left’. I thought he was taken.” 

Tony grimaces, setting the coffee cup down and tapping at something in the middle of his chest. 

“Well, I don’t say ‘left’ as in willingly. They, whoever they is, gave him a choice. Go with them and do what they want, or let me die.” Tony sighs, his fingers stopping their drumming. “So he left.” 

Steve hears the implication. “Let you die?”

“Yeah, they’d already taken me hostage and—“ 

“I can hear it.” Steve says suddenly, “Whatever it is, the metallic sound.” 

“Geez.” Tony huffs. He tugs down the collar of his shirt, revealing ugly scarring and something metal sticking out of his chest. Steve feels sick at the sight. 

“I’m so sorry.” He says truthfully, reaching over to place a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You didn’t deserve that.” 

Tony shrugs and begins his tapping again. 

“Yeah well, now I gotta find him. It’s been over 6 months. I’m better now and I’m going to find him no matter what.” He looks defiantly at Steve as if he expects him to argue. When Steve stays silent he shrinks a bit, his shoulders hunching in, but then he tips his head to the side. “Will you help me? I could use all the help I can get. Seems like you might be my best resource. And someone wanted us to meet.” 

The question causes him to pause. He looks at the desperate kid in front of him, searching for someone he loves and Steve is reminded of three years ago when his own best friend went missing and he’d basically done whatever it took to get enlisted so he could go find him. Then there’s the fact about the envelope. Who sent it? Why Tony? And why now?

He brushes the rim of his coffee mug, and looks up at the face that expects rejection. “Yeah kid, I’ll help you.” 

————————-

Chapter Text

“They sure kept your hostage situation quiet.” Steve muses, eyeing the kid as they walk towards his apartment. 

“Yeah, my dad didn’t want my mom seeing it, so he agreed to the demands immediately. Last I saw him, some one-armed freak was putting a bag over his head.” 

“Geez.” Steve huffs, “That’s terrible. I’m really sorry—“

“Stop apologizing,” Tony snaps. “I don’t need your apologies. I just need your help, okay?”

“Got it.” 

———

When Steve opens his door to find three girls, blasting music and painting their nails at his coffee table, he stops in surprise. Tony runs into his back, stumbling back when Steve doesn’t budge and peers around his arms. 

“Who are these people?” Tony asks with no discretion, popping around Steve’s side and walking into the apartment. 

The girls finally hear them over the music and they smile, greeting him with a chorus of “Hello Steve!” 

Tony turns back to Steve with a renewed interest, looking almost impressed. Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, he uses his finger to point, “that’s my sister, that’s a child, no offense Natasha, and that’s my new neighbor. Everyone say, ‘hello, Tony.’” 

Steve smiles as the girls oblige, “Hello Tony!” 

“What sort of lost cause are you?” Natasha asks, taking a bite of a cookie. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Steve’s the patron saint of lost causes,” she gestures to the group of girls as if that explains everything and then looks back at Tony expectantly. 

Tony looks taken aback at the question, eyes wide. 

“Geez, Natasha.” Steve gripes, “not exactly the most warm welcome. And for the record, I am not—“

“What sort of lost cause am I?” Peggy asks, cutting Steve off, looking mildly offronted at the insinuation, but the smile on her lips makes it clear she’s just playing along. 

“Oh please,” Natsasha groans, “you’re obviously struggling with your work life balance, and I would bet a messed up family to boot.” Natasha looks up at Peggy with her eyebrows raised. Peggy turns to Steve, mouth parted open in surprise. There is genuine shock first, then disbelief and then mirth. Peggy doubles over, trying to hold her hands out in front of her to not mess up the paint job. 

“My, I didn’t know I needed a wake up call from a teenager before but apparently I did!” 

Steve’s about to admonish Natasha when Peggy turns to him and smiles, making him forget what he was about to say. “Welcome home, Steve. I brought you something.” 

He swallows, eyeing the way her curls light up with the afternoon glow behind them. “You did?”

“Yeah, it’s in the fridge.” 

He tilts his head in question and turns to Tony, who is still standing a bit shell-shocked in the entryway. 

“Come on, Tony, let’s go have a look.” 

He nods and follows Steve to the kitchen, still in eyesight of the girls but away from the music. 

“She your girlfriend?” Tony asks in a whisper. 

“No.” Steve says firmly. “I barely know her.” 

“And here she is, painting her nails in your house.” 

“With my little sister and her high-school friend.” 

“Exactly.” 

Steve looks up at a smirking Tony, he just glares back and turns to open the fridge. 

“She know?”  

Steve’s hand stops on the way to the handle. He turns to Tony and his gaze is flat. “No. And she won’t.” 

Tony sits on the stool, leaning on his elbows, “Not ever?”  

“Not if I can help it.” 

“Why,” Tony huffs, eyeing Steve, “why would you hide—“

Steve’s voice is a whispering growl as he turns back to Tony and points at his chest. “You want people to know about that?” Tony flinches but Steve doesn’t stop, “You want them to look at you with pity or with fear? Like you’re some kind of monster? You want everyone you know to—“ He stops, glancing up to the ceiling and gripping the edge of his counter too hard. He feels it start to crack under his grip and he lets go, taking a deep breath. He really needs to get his strength under control. He can’t keep breaking things. ”Sorry.” He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Tony looks where Steve’s fingers have left dents on the counter, then looks up at him, studying his face and Steve sort of shrinks in his gaze. “Not all it’s cracked up to be huh?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” is Steve’s response. They stare at each other for a moment before Tony gestures towards the fridge. 

“Don’t keep us waiting.” 

Steve huffs out a laugh and turns back to the fridge. He opens it and stares in surprise as a plate wrapped in foil sits staring at him. In sharpie his name is written with a little smiley face. He pulls it out and sets it on the counter. 

“Maggie?”

“Um-hmm?”

“What is it?”

She laughs and kneels on the couch, leaning over the back of it facing the kitchen. “You have to open it to find out, Steve.” 

He looks at Tony who shrugs and he lifts the foil up, revealing items that look somewhat familiar. 

“Is this… Thai food?”

Peggy claps her hands and nods enthusiastically, “not just any Thai food, the best Thai food in Brooklyn.” 

She clambors over the couch and settles herself next to Tony on another stool. 

She points each item out. “These are chive dumplings, my favorite thing with this delicious sweet soy sauce, and these are flower cups with a cucumber salad sauce, and then my favorite is this Ka Soi soup. You’ve made me so many cookies that I wanted to return the favor.” She smiles up at him and his brain sort of stutters as she  does, “and I already fed those two hyenas, so no need to worry about them.” 

If the girls have any issue with being called hyenas they stay silent as Steve can see them peeking their eyes over the edge of the couch and watching the interaction. 

“Wow, Maggie, you didn’t have too.” He says, feeling warmth rising from his collar.

“Of course I did! You saved me last week from that putz and the dozens of cookies since have definitely earned a free meal.” 

“Cookies?” Tony asks, his eyebrows raising, “you holding out on me?”

“Didn’t you just devour two huge muffins at the diner?”

“Growing boy, remember?”

Steve laughs and pops the dish into the microwave, and hauls the jar of cookies from the counter onto the island.

——————

Peggy leaves soon after and Natasha walks Wanda back home before heading home herself. 

Tony sits on the stool facing Steve, an empty plate in front of him as Steve slowly enjoys the food Peggy had brought. 

“So, my dad’s notes were kind of unspecific. Like obviously you’re strong, but how strong? And what else?”

Steve sits on the counter, his leg resting on an open cabinet door, a bad habit he picked up when he was small and his weight was almost nothing. “I don’t know how strong, some of the things I did in the army made me kind of tired? So I guess I haven't found my real limit yet.” He looks up at Tony who is just staring at him with wide eyes. 

“You haven’t wanted to find out?” 

“Kind of hard to test how many tanks I can toss in a row in New York.” Steve deadpans. But Tony just chokes, 

“You can toss a tank?”

Steve winces, whoops. “Uh, yeah? I didn’t do it recklessly though, it was for a mission.” 

“Geez.” Tony thinks on this then his head pops up, “what else?” 

“Don’t get sick. Enhanced smell, taste, touch, hearing, and eyesight. Increased metabolism, can’t take pain meds, or drink, have to eat like freaking Michael Phelps to stay satiated.” His tone grows frustrated and Tony doesn’t miss the switch. 

“Why’d you volunteer for it then?” 

Steve leans his head back onto the cabinets behind his head. He reaches into his front pocket and pulls out his soft leather wallet. He pulls out a worn photograph, one he carried with him on every tour, every mission, every trip he was sent on. He tosses it to Tony who snatches it out of the air.

“My best friend, practically my brother, went missing over 3 years ago, and I tried to enlist to go search for him because none of the information they sent back to us about his capture and then death seemed to sit right. They denied me over and over even though I told them I didn’t care about being too sick to go, I wanted to know what happened to him. Finally I ran into Erskine at one of the recruitment offices as I was about to be arrested for forging enlistment forms. He gave me a chance. That’s when I met your dad.” 

Tony opens the photo and stares at it. It’s a photo of him and Bucky outside the Cyclone, right before they rode it and Steve threw up. In the picture they’re smiling and Steve is squinting at the camera while Bucky’s head is thrown back in a laugh, their arms around each other’s shoulders. 

“He looks kind of familiar.” Tony whispers, his tone a bit hesitant. 

“He does?” Steve jumps off the counter and comes next to Tony, “you think you met him?”

“I don’t know. Just something about his face rings a bell.” He hands the photo back and grabs another cookie. Steve takes the hint and tampers down his questions. 

“So how are you wanting me to help you?” He asks, leaning onto his elbows. 

“Whatever you remember about working with my dad. Any names or faces, details. Where did the experiment take place?” 

Steve opens his mouth to respond when a knock sounds at his door. They both pause and Steve tilts his head to listen, his eyebrows go up and he looks at Tony. 

“Something sounds mechanical, you gotta friend?”

“No.” 

Steve wipes his hands on a towel and walks to the door, he opens it expecting someone, but it opens to an empty hallway. He glances out and down each side before glancing down. A yellow manila envelope sits on his doormat. He reaches down, slowly grabbing it and turning back around to Tony who has risen from his stool and stands waiting expectantly. 

“Did the envelope you received look something like this?”

A slow nod from Tony has Steve ripping it open. He pulls out a thick sheet of paper. 

In scrawled handwriting it says: I know you. Help us. They have him. I can’t leave him. My fault. Help. Don’t trust Shield. Help us.

Steve dumps the last item from the envelope and stares down at the gold ring, with intricate detailing on the outside, in his palm. There’s an inscription on it. He lifts it up to read it but Tony sucks in a breath at the sight and then speaks in a rush, 

“From your Dorothy” 

Steve reads the inscription and looks up in shock. “How’d you know that?” Tony pales significantly before reaching out and plucking the ring out of Steve’s palm and sliding to the floor. “It’s my dad’s.” He rasps. “My mom has one that matches, but her inscription says ‘From your Tinman’.” 

Steve’s out the door and running before he can think. Someone needed his help, asked for it, so why didn’t they stay? Or maybe it was just a messenger. He runs down the stairs and through all the floors, faster than he should allow himself, but he doesn’t think about that for the moment. He bursts out of the building and takes off down the street, trying to look for anything, but there’s no one and he trudges back home after a few minutes. 

Tony’s still on the floor, leaning against the wall, clutching the ring to his chest. “He’s alive, Steve. I know I said I wanted to find him but—“ He swallows thickly, his eyes closing “I didn’t actually know if he was alive…” 

“Well, this doesn’t exactly mean he’s alive.“ Steve says hesitantly. 

Tony sighs, “I know. But… I’m going to believe this is a sign that he is.” 

Steve studies the note. The handwriting is erratic, jagged and strange, as if the person writing it was running as they did. “Recognize this handwriting?” 

“Yeah, same one that was in my envelope.” 

“It feels like whoever is sending these notes is taking a huge risk doing so. Or why run?”

“Beats me. But if the ‘him’ the note mentions is my dad then I’m one step closer to fixing my mistake.” 

Steve furrows his eyebrows, “what mistake?”

Tony just looks at him, guilt written across his face. “It’s my fault I got taken.” 

“Tony—“

“NO, Steve. You asked, so this is where you zip it and listen.” Steve pulls back in surprise, staring at the distraught kid in front of him. After a moment he raises his hands in surrender and sits down across from Tony and waits. “Me and dad never got along. Always bickering about something. He wanted me to do this but I wanted to do that. I always felt like I had to prove I was smarter than him and he hated that. Or at least… I think he did. I dunno. Sometimes it felt like he was jealous, and other times I almost thought he was proud… Either way, just about 7 months ago, I was supposed to go to this MIT thing, a meet and greet that would have me rubbing shoulders with the admissions board, and all the big wigs, but I didn’t want to go, I wanted to go to a friend’s party. So I told my dad that and he started lecturing me that I needed to start making adult decisions. Going to parties and wasting my life was ‘irresponsible’, he said. Then I threw his past in his face, and he didn't like that. He told me that as his son I needed to be careful, people will do whatever they can to get their claws in us, and I yelled at him that I was my own person, and I never asked to be a Stark.” He sighs, his face contorting in anguish at the memory. “I was so angry. Back then I thought he was asking too much from me, I just wanted to live my own life, have a little fun, not be the rich guy’s kid all the time.” His face falls, eyes dropping to the ground. “I stormed out, took one of my dad’s most expensive cars and drove to the party. Got hammered. Next thing I know, some guy’s telling me my car alarm is going off and I need to come with him. I was too drunk to think so I just did what he said.

“Suddenly I’m being stuffed in a van and I fight back, somehow getting out of their grasp and racing back to the car. I don’t even remember getting it started or driving… But I do remember being so drunk I couldn’t see straight and driving straight into a fence.” He tugs down his shirt, revealing the circle mechanical device constructed in his chest. “This thing is ugly, but it's keeping my heart beating after the fence post punctured it. The people caught up with me, pulled me out of my car and took me hostage, another doctor was there that they had hostage, he’s the one who helped do this.” He taps against the metal. “Your Erskine was my Yensen.” 

Steve sits completely still letting the kid get it all out. “After they patched me up they contacted my dad and brokered the deal. Me for him.” He grits his teeth, clenching his fists on his raised knees and screwing his eyes shut, “If I’d just listened . If I’d gone to that damn MIT party then I wouldn’t have been taken and my dad would still be here.” 

Steve hears Tony’s heart rate and breathing elevate too quickly. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, Tony. Take deep breaths, You’re going to give yourself a panic attack.” 

His face is scrunched up but he nods, trying to steady his breathing and laying his hands flat against the carpet. It takes a few minutes but his heart rate slows and he regains some color. 

“It’s not your fault that people kidnapped you, Tony.” 

“But I could have avoided it.” He snaps. 

“Yeah, maybe that time, but if they wanted your dad, I have no hesitation they would have tried anything to get to him. They could have plucked you from school or somewhere else, hell they might have tried your mom—“ Tony’s eyes snap up and Steve stops. “Sorry, I didn't mean— I’m just saying that when evil people want something, they’ll do anything.” 

Tony nods and they sit quietly, as the sun fades behind the building across the street.

———————

“Play it again.” 

Peggy rewinds the footage, and lets it play. 

“I can’t believe it.” Phillip growls, “I can’t believe this.” He shoves away from his desk and stands, hands on his hips. “You let him play you like a fiddle!” 

Peggy gapes at him, her face flushing, “I most certainly did not!” 

“Then how do you explain this?” He points to the video, now on loop. A man in dark combat gear appears at Steve’s door, drops something, knocks and then takes off.  The camera that Peggy had placed there doesn't catch his face, long hair hanging down in front of it, but it’s not hard to guess who it is. Not 30 seconds later Steve opens the door, gets the envelope and disappears, then goes racing out the door. 

“He lied to you!” 

“How?!”

“He knows Barnes is alive and in New York City of all places!” 

Peggy stabs her finger at the screen, “nothing in this video proves that. We don’t know what was in the envelope!”

“Oh let’s not forget that this little soldier brought home Tony Stark today, he’s in this deep and here you are with a crush!” 

Peggy clenches her fist, lowering her voice. “I do not have a crush. ” She practically growls. “You told me to get close to him, that’s what I’m bloody doing. And he brought him home just today and I told you immediately.” She now wishes she hadn’t. She should have waited to tell Clint first and see what he thought before telling Phillips, but the cat was out of the bag now. 

“I’m sending in Lorraine.” 

“Sir! No, you—“

“This is not a negotiation!” He shouts, “you’ve failed to extract the needed information in the time constraints we had.” He shoves the laptop back into her hands. “Brief her and then let her at him. I want to know if he caught up with Barnes, I want to know what was in the envelope, and I want to know how long he’s known Howard’s kid.” 

“Sir, I really must protest, Private Lorraine is—“

“Get out, Carter. That’s an order.” 

She practically cracks her jaw clenching her teeth so hard. “Yes, sir.” 

—————

Chapter Text

Private Lorraine sits across from her with a smug grin on her face. Only three times in Peggy’s memory has she been recalled for Pvt. Lorraine to step in. Three times too many. The woman was a vicious snake, but hell if she wasn’t efficient. Men seemed unable to hold back anything once she got ahold of them. The thought made Peggy sick to let her loose on Steve. 

“So…” Lorraine starts, “This is a military guy?” 

“Yes, although we have very little of his records.” 

“Dishonorably discharged?”

“No, not that we can see. Seems like his missions were the highest of clearance. But he hasn’t even mentioned military service while I was on detail. So it's not common knowledge out of his inner circle.” 

Lorraine looks at the picture they have of Steve from the security footage. Thick muscles clearly visible through the shirt he’s racing down the hallway in. 

“Probably not too tough to guess though.” She says mockingly. “What else is he into?”

“He’s a baker at a Diner down in 62nd and he paints.” 

“Ah…” Lorraine’s smirk turns salacious, “so he’s good with his hands.” 

Peggy has to resist the urge to pull Lorraine out of her chair and smack that disgusting grin off her face. I shouldn’t be this worked up over just an informant. He’s just someone we need information from. 

He saved me

I don’t know that for sure

Don’t be daft

Capturing Barnes is first priority.

Agreed

Her running mental argument isn’t noticed by Lorraine, who is still studying the measly file in front of her.  

“He has an ‘adoptive’ little sister who is there often, along with her friend. He just brought Tony Stark to his house, so they are at least acquaintances.”

“Tony Stark?” Lorraine’s eyebrows are up in her hair. “Phillips was right, this man is in it deep.” 

Peggy forces herself to take a deep breath. “Quite.” 

———————

Tony sits staring at the two pieces of paper. Steve had let him take the one from his envelope and his father’s ring home. They were to meet up at the diner in the next day or two when Tony had done some more digging. 

He hears his mother stop at his door. He can basically picture her hands fretting as she decides whether to knock or not. She’d spent the first month of his dad’s disappearance in fear they’d get a ransom. His dad had always made it clear they were never to negotiate ransoms, he’d rather be killed. Tony huffs at the memory. Easy for the one who doesn't have to live with that decision, he thinks. 

Then the next few months had been despair and depression as she realized he was not coming home. She gave up around month 4 and had become more of a ghost than a person. 

Well. Tony isn’t about to give up. His dad is out there somewhere. 

He looks at the handwriting again and it’s definitely the same, and he’s also 100% sure it’s not his fathers. So whose is it? He looks back at his computer and watches the program he designed work to crack through his dad’s last firewall. 78% finished. 

“I’m going to find you.” Tony says out loud, hoping somehow his dad knew he hadn’t given up.

———————

Steve pulls the tray of red velvet cheesecake cupcakes out of the oven. The color red has been on his mind lately, and was starting to work it’s way into his baking. Yesterday, it was fresh strawberry pie, the day before was raspberry macarons with lemon and custard filling. He thinks about her red lipped smile and blushes, without thankfully anyone around to see. It’s only been three days since he saw her last, the day he brought Tony back to the apartment, but she’s been on his mind… too much.

He gently sets the rack to cool and hops up on the counter. He pulls out his phone, and sends a text to Tony. 

Any updates?

Chill, old man, these things take time.

Okay, kiddo

Tony sends back the eye roll emoji

You coming to the bakery today? I want to make sure you’re fed

I can take care of myself, Steve. Thank you very much

Steve sighs and he’s about to put away his phone when it beeps again. 

I’ll be there at 3

Steve smiles, the kid was definitely putting up a front of bravery, but Steve could see straight through that, he’d been the same way. Howard had helped Steve, so Steve was going to do his best to help Tony find Howard. 

———————-

Peggy clips the tiny microphone onto the front of her bra. Phillips has decided that monitoring Steve directly is first priority. If Barnes shows up again, they want to know immediately. Both her and Lorraine are now outfitted with the best wires Shield has to offer. They don’t want the in-ears as those could be spotted. 

“I don’t know.” Lorraine says with mock consideration, “I don’t think the bra is the right place. When I get him back to his apartment, it will be found too quickly.” 

For the 800th time that day, Peggy bites her tongue to keep from saying something very unprofessional. She takes a deep breath, rearranges her blouse, and buttons it before speaking. 

“Steve isn’t like that. He’s not just going to take you to bed. He isn’t the type.” 

Lorraine’s side smirk is immediate, “maybe not with you.” She fluffs her hair and then steps out of the shield locker room. Peggy may have slammed her locker louder than necessary. 

————

Steve is sitting with Tony when the bell above the door rings. He doesn’t glance up but Tony does. 

He lets out a low whistle. 

Steve looks up to see two women headed towards them, but he only has eyes for one. 

“Hey Maggie.” He smiles standing up to greet her. 

Her smile back is immediate, but there’s something guarded there too, “Hello, Steve. How are you?” 

“I’m doing fine, you remember Tony?” 

Tony tips his head up, eyeing the woman next to her and Peggy nods. 

“Of course, nice to see you again Tony.” 

“Likewise.”

Peggy motions to the girl next to her, “this is Lily, my college roommate, she’ll be staying with me for a while.” 

Steve shakes her hand, “nice to meet you Lily, I’m Steve and this is Tony.” 

The girl lets out a soft smile and shakes his hand, hers lingering just a second too long before Steve pulls it back. 

“What brings you to the diner today?” Steve asks, focusing back on Peggy. 

“Well since she’s in town, I told her we just had to come here.” 

“I’m sure Sam will be pleased to hear that.” 

“Maggie here told me you make the best cookies in the world, so I had to see if she was telling the truth.” Lorraine speaks in a fake British accent, drawing Steve’s attention away from Peggy. 

“Oh well, she’s being too kind. Actually, today I have a new bake you should try, it’s in B16.” 

Lorraine’s gaze is a bit intense and Steve clears his throat. 

“It’s behind you that way.” He points. 

Lorraine nods and walks towards the automat, dragging Peggy with her. Leaving Steve to sit back across from Tony. 

Sam walks over, and stands at the table, eyeing Steve. “Who's the new girl?”

“Her name’s Lily,” Steve responds, not taking his eyes off the papers on the table in front of him, the same one with the crack he has yet to fix, “Maggie’s college roommate.” 

“Do girls usually come onto Steve that strong?” Tony asks Sam.

Steve’s head snaps up, “excuse me? She was not—“

Tony laughs and Sam grins. Steve had filled Sam in on the fact that Tony knew about his change. “It’s been a lot more often since the…” Sam makes a waving motion over Steve’s body and Steve sighs. 

“It’s insulting, is what it is.” Steve snaps. “If they wouldn’t have liked me then, then I don’t want ‘em now.” He glances back at the blonde with Maggie, “not interested.” 

“In either of them?” Sam asks, his eyebrow raising. 

Tony doesn’t miss the wistful expression that passes over Steve’s face for a split second before his somber expression returns. “It’s not priority right now.” He says quietly. “Your dad is.” 

Tony shuffles the papers back into place and puts them in his book bag. “The last firewall is about to come down, I don’t know if it will even help. Maybe it’s what they wanted my dad for. I don’t know. But I’ll text you if something comes up.”

He’s about to leave the table when Steve grabs his arm. “Be careful, will you? Someone knows where we both live, and I—“ He scrubs the back of his neck with his other arm, “Just… Keep both eyes out, okay?”

Tony looks at him with annoyance, but there’s a teeny tiny smirk playing on his lips, “You got it, old man.” 

Steve let’s him go and Tony disappears with the ring of a bell.

“I should get back to work.” Steve says, about to clear off the table. 

“Nah,” Sam says, his eyes following the direction of the two girls. “I think you’re about to have company.”

Steve’s tone is warning, “Sam—“

“Ladies!” Sam calls, “Steve has a few more minutes of his break, why don’t you join him?”

They smile and slide into the booth while Steve shoots Sam a glare. 

“So, Steve.” Lorraine begins, “tell me about yourself. Maggie just said you’re a baker and her neighbor, but there’s got to be more to you than that!” 

Peggy stiffens at the way Lorraine somehow makes it sound like she thought Steve was boring, nobody of note. 

Steve’s eyes find hers, a question in them, but Peggy stays still, casting her eyes down. 

His tone only reveals the tiniest hint of sadness as he adjusts the tie of his apron. “Oh, well, that’s about it. I bake here at the diner most days a week, and I do live next to her.” 

“Come now,” Lorraine presses, “big handsome man like you? What do you do for fun?” 

Steve grimaces at her description, “Nothing much.” 

Lorraine studies him for a moment and switches gears. “This cupcake is divine by the way.” Her tone shifts to something gentler, less intense. 

Steve looks up and nods, smiling ever so slightly, “thanks,” 

“Would it be possible to take a box to my art class? I think they’d love them. And my classmates are always less snobby when they’ve eaten.” She gives a soft chuckle and Peggy does everything she can to not grit her teeth.

Steve studies her with a bit more interest, “Of course, I have about 2 dozen ready to go. How many would you need?”

“I only need 10.” She says, twirling her finger through the icing and then bringing it to her mouth. “Actually I’ll take a full dozen. This is so good, is it a cream cheese frosting?” Her accent is realistic enough that no one would know the wiser, Peggy wants to scream. 

Steve’s eyes are on the table, decidedly not watching her lick her fingers, “yep it is. Works well for the red velvet.” 

“It does indeed. My mum loves to bake and red velvet is one of her favorites.” 

Steve looks up and smiles at her, a genuine smile that has Peggy’s fist clenching underneath the table. She hates how well Lorraine is beginning to play with him. 

“Yeah, my ma loved to bake too.” He says, standing up. “Let me go get those for you.” 

He disappears and Lorraine turns to Peggy. “You were right, he’s too shy. Strange with the way he looks.” 

“Not every muscled man is an imbecile.” 

Lorraine just eyes Peggy, silently passing a judgement she doesn’t speak aloud. When Steve waves her over to the counter to pay, Lorraine winks at Peggy and heads over. 

Sam is next to Steve when he rings her up. 

“My classmates are going to love these!” She says sweetly, handing over her card. 

“Oh, what classes are you taking?’ Sam asks conversationally. 

“I’m taking a painting class over at Brooklyn Community and a pottery class there too.” 

Sam lights up like a christmas tree. “You like to paint?” He asks enthusiastically. “So does Steve! He’s quite the artist. You’ll have to have him show you some of his stuff.” 

Lorraine lets a hopeful smile cross her face, “You paint? Oh I would love to see some of your things! If they’re anywhere close to the quality of your bakes then they must be amazing!” 

“Oh they’re n—“ Steve stammers. 

“They’re even better!” Sam exclaims, clapping Steve on the back. “You said you’re staying with Maggie? You visiting here from good ol’ England?”

“Yes, I am, for a while this summer. Trying to learn about the culture of New York City!”

“Oh well, if you wanna know New York, make sure you stop over at Steve’s. He’s a born and raised Brooklyn boy and he’s got some great places he can show you.” 

“Sam—“ Steve starts, his voice dropping lower, but Sam just smiles and hands the card back to Lorraine. 

“Nice to meet you, Lily. Hope to see you again!” 

She stares straight at Steve, a shy and hopeful smile on her face, “I think you will.” She says before giggling and walking back to the table. She collects Maggie who waves stiffly at them in goodbye and they disappear out the door. 

“What the hell was that!” Steve snaps, turning on Sam. 

“Dude, you need to relax, she was into you!” 

“Yeah well, I’m not into her.” 

“Why not? She’s beautiful, seems real nice, into art and loves your baking.” 

Steve groans, “I don’t have time—“

“Bullshit, Steve.” Sam gripes. “You’re just scared. You’ve been alone too long. You need to get out there.” 

“Where the hell is there ?” Steve shouts, then snaps his mouth shut as the only customer left in the diner looks up from their laptop. He lowers his voice, “how am I even supposed to be in a relationship when I might hurt her at any second?”

“Is there a specific her ?” Sam asks, eyebrows raising. 

“Her! Whoever!” Steve growls. “I just got back, not even a month ago, and you’re already trying to shove me at some random stranger.” 

“Hell, pick Maggie, I don’t care, she’s definitely into you too.” Sam says, his tone dropping, “but don’t pretend you don’t have time. You make time to help Wanda, you help Sarah and me, you are now helping a 19 year old billionaire find his father and you bake your heart out for people constantly. So when are you going to find the time for yourself?” 

“I’m fine.” Steve says, turning away.

“No, Steve. You’re not. You haven’t been the same since Bucky died and I get that. You remember when I lost Riley, I—“ he huffs, his hand automatically scrubbing at his regiment tattooed in his forearm. “But you gotta let go. You gotta move on. He’d want you to be happy, hell he was always shoving girls on you before the change. You just spent the last almost 3 years giving your all to a country who doesn’t even want your name on record. You gotta do something for yourself.” 

“Sam, I don’t get to have that life. I gave that up when I signed up for this—“ he gestures to himself, disgust across his face, “I can’t trust myself, it’s not fair to whoever I would date.  I’m constantly worried they’re going to come after me. Hell, look at what happened to Howard! I can’t put anyone I love in danger like that. I refuse to lie to someone I love about my whole life.” 

“What about me? And Wanda? Anyone else who knows?”

“I couldn’t help that. You knew me before. I didn’t even have to tell you guys. And if anything happened to you guys I’d never forgive myself. That’s why I can’t add someone else to my life.” 

Sam’s face drops to one of disbelief. “So you’re just going to be alone. You’re choosing to be alone. Forever.” 

Steve walks away from Sam, his back tense as the next words slip out. “It’s safer that way.” 

——————

“—anything happened to you guys I’d never forgive myself. That’s why I can’t add someone else to my life.” 

“So you’re just going to be alone. You’re choosing to be alone. Forever.” 

“It’s safer that way.” 

Peggy and Lorraine only catch the tail end of the conversation as they hop back in the van that is a few blocks down, but Clint’s face tells them something was up. 

“What does he mean?” Lorraine asks. “What did we miss?” 

Clint looks uncomfortable. He dislikes Lorraine’s tactics as much as Peggy does, and she knows he’s been listening the whole time, hearing her try to hook Steve. 

“They keep referencing something,” Clint admits. He rewinds the audio, 

“— how am I even supposed to be in a relationship when I might hurt her at any second?”

He skips forward. 

“he was always shoving girls on you before the change. You just spent the last almost 3 years giving your all to a country who doesn’t even want your name on record. You gotta do something for yourself.” 

“Sam, I don’t get to have that life. I gave that up when I signed up for this—“

There’s a brief pause.

“I can’t trust myself, it’s not fair to whoever I would date, I’m constantly worried they’re going to come after me. Hell, look at what happened to Howard! I can’t put anyone I love in danger like that. I refuse to lie to someone I love about my whole life.” 

Clint stops the audio and looks at the two women before him. “Something happened to Steve. And I think it’s the photo. Somehow, someway, he went from small to huge. He’s worried about causing damage? I’m not exactly sure what he means.”

“We need more information.” She takes a deep breath, splaying her hands out in front of her. “He references Howard very casually here. As if he knew him, can we start looking into Howard’s contacts with the military?”

Clint nods, scrubbing the audio back again, “his friend, Sam, references Tony. Apparently Steve’s helping him locate Howard. Which is strange, why would Tony go to Steve for help?”

“Maybe there’s a military contract Howard has that has to do with Steve?” 

“Howard made weapons for the military—“

Lorraine leans forward, listening to the audio again:

“You just spent the last almost 3 years giving your all to a country who doesn’t even want your name on record.”

“Seems like our soldier has a very nasty set of skills the government doesn’t want known.” She comments, her eyebrows raised as if waiting for an argument. When neither Clint or Peggy speaks, she leans back and smiles, “I guess we need to find out just exactly what those skills are.” 

—————

When they arrive back at Shield, Clint holds Peggy back, when Lorraine pauses he smiles easily and says “just need to ask about my own case. We’ll catch up in a minute.” Lorraine raises an eyebrow but disappears into the elevator. 

“We are way in over our heads.” Clint seethes. “There’s something wrong with this whole thing, Lorraine is not the way to go.” 

Peggy sighs, “I know, I said that to Phillips and was promptly told to stuff it.”

“Steve actually thinks Barnes is dead. He needs to know that he isn’t.” 

Peggy looks at him, waiting for him to continue, when he looks at her expectantly, she scoffs, “you want me to tell him?”

“Yeah, who else? You want Private Lorraine messing with his privates?”

Peggy glares at him, “Shut it, Barton.” 

“This man is the nicest guy ever. It’s disgusting really. Everything you’ve told me, I’ve seen, and just heard tells me this is a good guy. I don’t know what he did in the military but this guy deserves to know his best friend is alive.” 

“Phillips would kill me.” 

“Why? He already thinks Steve knows!” 

“And what would I say, ‘hey Steve, you know how I’m not supposed to know anything about you? Well, silly me, I forgot I’ve been tracking your terrorist friend for ages?!’”

Clint huffs and throws out his arms. “Honestly, I’m having my doubts about Barnes being a terrorist.” Peggy’s mouth gapes, but Clint doesn’t stop. “You’ll regret it. If he finds out, and I just have this feeling he will, and if he knows you knew? Game over.” 

“What will it matter!” She shouts hotly, “what does it matter if he hates me? My job is to get information out of him, not make friends.” 

Clint looks at her. That disgustingly observant look. They’ve known each other for years and he sees right through her facade. “Okay, you wanna pretend you don’t actually care? Fine. But this guy’s going to get hurt. Caught in Shield’s and whoever the hell else’s crossfire. He’s going to get the brunt of it. Good to know you won’t care when that happens.” 

He gives a mock salute and disappears up the stairs next to the elevator. Leaving her to fume all alone. 

———————

She gathers her things and walks to Phillips’ office expecting to find Lorraine there. “Where’s Private Lorraine?” 

“She’s already gone. Wanted to get a head start on Rogers.” 

“Got it.” She turns heels and has to keep herself from running to the parking garage. 

—————

Thankfully she’s in excellent shape and isn’t panting when she reaches her door. She opens it as quickly as she can, shrugging off her stuff and grabbing the headphones to hear Lorraine’s wire.

“Your place is so tidy.” Lorraine comments sweetly. “That’s pretty unusual for a guy.” 

“Is it?” Steve says amiably. “Most of the guys I’ve known are pretty clean.” 

Lorraine giggles. “Not the ones I know. But I guess my older brother Michael was. He was in the military though, they kind of beat it into you.” Peggy freezes. How dare she, how dare Lorraine use her brother’s story.

Steve huffs a knowing laugh, but catches himself and tries to cover it by clearing his throat, but Lorraine doesn’t miss it, she’s been hoping for this exact opening. “Were you in the military?” 

“Uh…” She can almost hear him deciding whether to lie or not. “Yeah, I was.”

Peggy wants to scream. More out of frustration at herself than anything. She should have pushed, she should have asked and been as forward as Lorraine, because at least she would have done it in a way that respected Steve. Now he is being subjected to Lorraine’s clutches and Peggy has strict orders not to intervene. And it almost hurts because she asked and he told. Simple as that. Peggy was hoping to get him to admit it on his own, but she should have just tried.  

“You look it .” Lorraine says softly. “I wondered when I first saw you, you look like the guys my brother hung out with.” 

“Your brother…” Steve asks gently, “You said he was in the military?” 

“Yeah, he died about 7 months ago… Still feels like yesterday.” Peggy closes her eyes. Anger and grief mixing at once. 

“Wait…” Steve’s voice is brittle, “you said your brother’s name was Michael?”

“Yes?”

“Was… Is your last name Carter?” Peggy’s blood runs cold. 

No. No. No, no, no, no, no. 

She hears Lorraine gasp, “yes,” Peggy hates how quickly Lorraine turns on the tears, Hates her stealing her name, her brother’s name in the name of this mission, “you knew him?” 

Steve sounds grief stricken and it breaks Peggy’s heart even further, “Yes, I knew him. He talked about having a sister, I— He was in my unit for a time. I’m so sorry for your loss, he was a great man. One of the best I ever served with.” 

The sound of the microphone tells her that he’s hugging her, comforting her, that damned liar! 

Peggy’s pacing, furious and full of grief and questions, Steve knew Michael? He knew her brother? Worked with him? She clutches her arms around herself, the grief ripping the barely closed wound open wide again. 

“I was at the funeral.” Steve says, his voice thick with emotion. “I should have sought out his family, I— I’m sorry. ” 

Lorraine’s sniffling and Peggy wants to vomit. 

“I’m glad to have met someone who knew him. So few people really understand what it’s like to lose someone in the service.” 

Peggy wants to bang on their shared wall, that includes you, you little lying devil!  

“I’ve lost too many.” Steve says heavily. “Every death is personal to me.” 

“Why?” Peggy hates that Lorraine can imitate grief and still wheedle her way further in her questioning. 

“I was a Captain. It was my responsibility to get everyone home. I failed on multiple accounts.” 

Thankfully Lorraine says something kind next, “ It can’t all be your fault Steve. If the men followed you, they must have trusted you.” 

Steve is silent and Peggy curses that she doesn't have a camera installed in his apartment. They’d already pushed their luck placing a wire at the diner. 

“I’m really glad we were able to meet, Steve.” Lorraine says softly. 

“I’m glad too.” Steve replies, “I always like to know more about the men I’ve served with. I’d be happy to hear about your brother anytime.” 

“I’d be happy to share stories about him.” She pauses. “I don’t remember too much about his time in the service, he wasn’t allowed to tell us barely anything…” She chuckles and Peggy can hear that she’s still putting out fake tears, “But I do remember him saying he was lucky to work with the greatest team. You must have really been something.” 

Steve doesn’t respond right away. When he does his voice is low and thick with emotion. “Captain’s only as good as the rest of his men.” 

“You seem like a good man to me.” 

No response. 

“Steve?” 

Peggy can hear her close the gap between them, can almost picture her calling his name to get him to look up. The three seconds of silence are too long before there’s a shuffle and Lorraine is apologizing. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have— sorry.” There’s a brief silence before Steve’s door opens and shuts. It’s less than 15 seconds before Lorraine is back in their apartment smiling like a cat who caught a canary. 

“Well,” she says cheerily, wiping away fake tears, “what a fine kisser he is.”

——————————-

Chapter Text

Steve is frozen in place

He’d just been standing there, ruminating in his memories when she’d called his name, startling him out of his reverie. He’d looked up to find her directly in front of him. Before he could react, she was grabbing his shirt collar, pulling him down towards her and placing her lips on his. 

He’d stiffened at the contact, not responding. She’d pulled back after a second or two and apologized, “Oh, I’m sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have— sorry.” And then bolted out the door. 

He finally moves, wiping at his mouth.  He shivers, something about the incident settling on his shoulders in an uncomfortable way. 

He walks into his room, staring at the work in progress canvases placed along the walls and the finished ones hung strategically. His newest sketch, one of Maggie, lays on the bed, her eyes and lips curve just so and he finds himself disappointed that it wasn’t those lips that had just kissed him. 

“There has to be more to you than that.” Lily had said. He wonders if Maggie had described him so blandly to her friend… Or maybe he just was that bland and uninteresting to her. 

He flips the cover of the sketchbook, hiding the face that has been on his mind now for weeks. 

He puts his headphones on, drowning out all the oppressive sounds of life around him. 

————-

Peggy takes two steps forward and snags Lorraine’s collar, yanking her forward. “How dare you.” She seethes, her glare piercing, “how DARE YOU!” 

“Geez, Peg. Get a grip, it was just a kiss.” 

Peggy shoves her away, “I don’t care about the kiss!” She a lies, “I care that you used my brother’s story as part of your little show! That is incredibly unprofessional and—“ she huffs out an angry breath, “horrible, truthfully, didn’t you even consider how that would make me feel?” 

Lorraine looks at her, something almost like understanding passes across her features before it disappears and Lorraine sighs, “Listen, I had no idea he was actually going to know your brother. I just used his name, and look where it got me?” Her face shifts to smug again, “we now know he’s a Captain, worked with your brother, and was in London for the funeral.” She grins, “that’s a lot more information than you got.” 

Peggy seethes, “Don’t you speak of my brother again.”

“Kinda late to put that cat back in the bag, Carter.” 

“You will not—“

“Okay, you want to tell Steve? Or should I tell Phillips why we can’t use our best lead in days to get more info? Because what— you’re too sad?” 

The fury that rises in Peggy is boiling her blood, “listen here you little bit—“

The phone rings, startling them both. 

Lorraine eyes her but picks up the phone. “Pvt. Lorraine.” She listens. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay, we’re on our way. Yes, we have new information. See you then.” 

She hangs up the phone and grabs her keys and jacket. “Phillips wants us at Shield pronto. Zola found something.” 

She walks out, leaving Peggy about to crack her teeth with how tightly she’s clenching her jaw.

————

Phillips’ office door is open and they walk in, a tense silence between the two women. Or… tension was radiating off of Peggy towards Lorraine. While Lorraine just sits there, an amused expression on her lips. 

“Barton!” Phillips shouts, “Get in here.” The man obliges, stepping through the door and settling back against the wall, decidedly not looking at Peggy. “Zola! Stop fidgeting and get in this office!” 

The short man hesitatingly steps inside, and hands a file of photos and a flash drive to Phillips before skittering off. Phillips’ eyes roll at his quick departure and he plugs the flash drive into his computer. 

He hands the folder to Barton who flips it open. His eyes go wide and he tears through the photos, glaring up at Phillips. “When were these taken?” 

“Come on, Barton. You’re smarter than that.” Phillips responds gruffly. 

“What?” Peggy asks in a huff. 

Phillips turns his screen, pressing play on a video. 

It’s a grainy video, obviously taken with a chest mounted camera. That means lots of bodies block their view, but what first catches her eye is a pale and sick looking Tony Stark, being held by two huge goons. He’s fighting them and shouting but they are holding him down. Something strange glows from his chest and Peggy decides she doesn't want to know what it is. 

The next few seconds are blocked as people walk in front of the camera. Something about the angle is strange, so low to the ground. Eventually the screen lights up again and Howard Stark's face is half in and half out of the shot. He’s got a bruise on his cheek and a bleeding split lip but seems otherwise fine. He looks like he’s speaking at someone, Tony, Peggy realizes. His face is calm and his eyes are determined as he tries to speak to his shouting son. 

Peggy almost misses it. A one armed Barnes steps into view, grabbing Howard by the back of his collar and yanking him backwards, into a van and out of sight. The video goes dark for a second before Barnes turns and looks in the direction of the camera, eyes angled down. His face is a blank slate, no emotion, but his eyes burn with anger and… terror. He turns his face away from the camera before hopping into the van. 

The video cuts off and the photos, screen captures of the video they’d just watched, are placed in her hands. She studies them silently as Clint just gapes at the screen. 

“Still think Barnes isn’t a terrorist.” Phillips growls at him. 

Clint’s eyes finally land on Peggy and she’s never seen him look so off-kilter. 

“Something’s wrong here!” Clint says loudly, dropping the rest of the photos on the desk. He glares at her, then rounds on Phillips, “Why is Barnes missing an arm in this video but has one in the video of him in Steve’s hallway? Why is this the first video footage we have of Barnes in three years? We just happen to get this damning evidence now?” 

“It is damning evidence!” Phillips gruffs, cutting Clint off. “Now we know that Howard Stark, the government's most revered weapons designer is in the hands of a terrorist and that means this just shot up the priority to level one.”

“It’s been 7 months, sir.” Peggy interjects, “Surely by now—“

“7 months is a hell of a long time for them to have been creating weapons.” Phillips growls, not letting her finish. “We have no way of knowing if he’s planning a wide-spread attack. And now with this video we know he’s not working alone. Barnes is on the Kill or Capture list an I want this photo released to all law enforcement. If he steps out of his hidey-hole I want him dead or behind bars. Get out!” 

They all file out of his office, Lorraine peeling off to her desk and grabbing her keys. She’s walking quickly to the elevator and Peggy is furious. She’d wanted to file a complaint with Phillips, but now she can see he won’t care if it’s working. It got more information out of Steve than anything else Peggy had tried. Her face is set in a frown and she storms after Lorraine, determined to not let her… What? Not let her what? Use her story? Too late. Kiss Steve? Not her place, or problem. Seduce him? Philips would have her head if she got in the way of gathering intel now. 

She lets out a frustrated groan and grabs her own keys. She’s about to head towards the elevator when a hand grasps her forearm, whipping her around. 

Clint’s angry face is directly in front of her, “You’re telling me this doesn’t smell to you?” He asks, almost shaking her. It’s not painful, Clint would never, and she could rip herself out of his grip easily if she wanted, but the look on his face stops her. He continues, “You think that it's just some great coincidence that all this has come up at once? We’re just getting all this incredibly useful information suddenly?”

“Well, we are an intelligence operation,” Peggy huffs, staring back at him, “It’s literally our job.” 

“We’ve gone three years without any viable leads. And now this?” He snarls but doesn’t let her respond, “How do you think he’ll take finding all this out?”

She looks away, staring down the hallway. No need to ask who him is. 

“Peggy, he’s helping a kid whose father was taken hostage by his best friend. You’re just going to let him walk into that?” 

“Why do you care about him so much?” Peggy hisses, yanking her arm from his hand. “What does it matter? He’s just another informant. Another stepping stone on the mission.” She hates the words as they leave her mouth. 

The look he gives her, the disgust and the disappointment sear itself in her brain. He sighs and his next words, spoken calmly and flatly, chill her. “I joined Shield to help people. All people. Not just to take down the ‘big bads’ like Barnes, or the VIPs, like Howard Stark. Why did you join Shield?” 

He doesn’t let her answer. Just disappears faster than she can blink. And she’s left standing there, clutching her keys so tightly they leave an imprint in her palm. 

——————-

Howard shivers in the small bunker. He grabs the blanket around his shoulders tighter and holds the small mug of coffee close, trying to leech it’s warmth into his hands. 

The door clunks open and heavy boots sound on the ladder, descending. 

He looks up, always a tinge of fear that it will be Hydra this time, but the black combat gear that comes into view reassures him. 

“Hey Barnes.” He calls, “How did it go?” 

The man in front of him tenses, and Howard gets a little spike of fear. 

“Barnes? Is it you?” This happened less and less, but it still did. 80% of the time, Barnes was able to keep control over the programming Hydra had been forcing on him for the last 3 &½ years, but the other 20% of the time… it wasn’t great.

Howard stands, setting the coffee cup down. He’d found out that physical touch, touch that wasn’t violent, would ground Barnes and remind him that he wasn’t with Hydra anymore. He steps closer, placing a hand on Barnes shoulder and gently squeezing before moving the same hand to the back of Barnes’ neck. “It’s just me, it's Howard.” He moves to face the man and sees that Barnes’ eyes are stormy. Fighting the conditioning. “Hey, hey, stick with me, pal. I need you to come on back, you’re not with Hydra anymore. They aren’t going to get you.” 

Barnes sags and slumps into one of the metal folding chairs they had set out. He sighs heavily, arms hanging at his sides. “Howard?”

“Yeah!” Howard smiles and sits in the chair next to him, “yeah, pal. It’s me. Here.” He grabs the coffee cup he’d set down and wraps one of Barnes’ hands around it. Barnes drinks slowly and his eyes start to clear. 

“Sorry, sorry.” He mumbles. 

“No apologies necessary, my friend. You’re the one doing the leg work out here. Can you tell me what happened?” 

It takes a few minutes. Barnes rolls his shoulders and rubs at his eyes before speaking in a low and dangerous tone. “Zola.” 

Howard stiffens, his eyes narrow. “What about him?” 

“He’s in Shield. Had to improvise.” 

Howard looks down at his left hand, the indent of a missing wedding ring obvious. He’s been wearing that ring for 25 years, the mark it left isn’t going away anytime soon, he already misses the familiar sight. 

“What do you mean he’s in Shield.” 

Barnes groans, rubbing his temples. “I went to drop off your ring, like you said… but I saw Zola enter the building, with an ID badge.” He closes his eyes and slumps even further. “My programming kicked in and next thing I knew I was running, scrawling who knows what on a piece of paper and I dropped it at the address we originally gave Shield.” 

“Not just any address, Barnes. That was Steve’s address.” 

Barnes winces, “Right, of course.” 

Howard sighs. This had been the hardest part for Barnes to remember. Howard had learned, during his initial capture, and through careful questioning, that for the first couple months of Barnes’ capture and torture by Hydra, he’d resisted mightily. Only by erasing Barnes’ memories about his family and Steve were they able to slowly break him down and reprogram his brain. 

Howard had recognized him instantly when Hydra had brought Barnes out of his tiny holding cell. He’d almost said his name out loud. Steve had talked about him endlessly. Shown him the picture of them from his wallet as they prepped Steve for Project Rebirth. Howard had learned much about Steve’s supposedly dead friend, yet here he was, a gaunt and violent version of his former self. 

It took almost a month, but eventually there was a moment where it was just Howard and Barnes alone. Barnes and another goon were his guard, his 24/7 wardens, and they stood quietly, not making a sound as they watched Howard design whatever weapon Hydra wanted from him. Howard always included a failsafe in the design. Hoping he’d have the chance to destroy them before they were ever used. But now was his chance to speak when the other goon was called away for whatever reason. 

“Barnes.” He whispered. No response. 

“Sergeant Barnes.” He sees the tiniest stiffening of Barnes’ spine, Howard lights up like a Christmas tree, he’s in there somewhere. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, 32557–“ Barnes lets out a groan, clutching at his head and Howard stops.

Howard comes to recognize the look in Barnes’ eyes as an internal war within his mind. He hears movement and knows his time alone is coming to an end. Something about the sadness in Steve’s eyes when talking about his friend sparks an idea.

“Steve is looking for you? Do you know that? He’s looking for you!” 

The next words, and actually the first words that he ever hears Barnes speak, are flat and empty, “Who is Steve?”

Howard sits back, shock on his face as the other goon reenters the room. 

Howard’s eyes go back to his design, but his mouth turns down in a frown.

Howard looks at the Barnes that is slumped in front of him. A man who had slowly been climbing, clawing, dragging his way out of the deep mental pit Hydra had tossed him down. 

“You gave the envelope to Steve’s address?” 

“Yeah… I guess I did.” 

“Did you see him?”

“No, I dropped it and bolted.” 

“Okay, okay… Not exactly what we had in mind… But hey, we can work with it. Except Shield is dirty.” Hell… that’s a punch to the gut. They were hoping to rely on Shield to clear Barnes’ name. 

“What day is it?” Howard asks, looking at his watch that had long since stopped functioning. It was a habit he couldn’t shake. 

Barnes scrunched his face, thinking, “I glanced at a newspaper… It’s Wednesday.” 

“Okay.” 

Howard mentally calculated the timing. For the past 6 months, he’d been slowly breaking down Bucky’s memory wall while under Hydra’s heavy hand, feeding him whatever snippets he could remember from Steve. Then when he’d finally been given access to a computer, he’d carefully, so carefully it couldn’t be traced, looked up Barnes’ military record and home life. After that he’d kept track of what seemed to wake Barnes up the most and leaned on those. Steve always worked, so did Rebecca, his sister, and for some reason talking about art always held Bucky’s attention. 

Eventually Barnes had gotten up the courage to ask questions whenever they were alone, and he became more and more life-like in front of Howard. He kept the dead-eyed stare in front of Hydra, too afraid to be caught and put back through conditioning. 

Just four weeks ago they’d hatched a plan and somehow escaped. Barnes doing most of the leg work, hauling a starving and weak Howard out of some factory in the middle of nowhere Siberia and working their way across the European continent.

The boat ride to New York was an experience Howard never wanted to repeat. Ever. 

Now he sat in this tiny bunker, under an old antique store that he and Erskine had outfitted back in the day just in case. They were unable to go to his home for fear of bringing Hydra back down upon them, and they needed Barnes’ name to be cleared first before he could be brought back into the general public. 

Barnes is staring at him now, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“What?” 

“I think… I think your kid was in Steve’s apartment.” 

Howard’s breath leaves his lungs, “you think so?” 

“Yeah, I think the note to him worked.” 

“Of course it worked, Tony’s smart, smarter than any of us.” He swallows, “You— did he— was… Did he seem okay?”

Barnes shifts in his chair, “I don’t know, I didn’t hear much, just them talking, but he sounds like you, and I could hear his heart beating fine.” 

Howard sags, letting the relief course through him, warming him better than any blanket or hot drink could. “Good. That’s good. He’s a strong kid. Smart, real smart.” 

“Just like his dad.” Barnes says, sincere eyes staring at him. 

Howard smiles, “Come on, we need to eat, can’t let the man who saved me go hungry.” The eyes staring at them have this terrible mix of softness and sadness and he’s reminded that Barnes was used to saving someone else. “I bet Steve would have been thrilled to see you.” 

Barnes glances away, swallowing, “I’m not sure I can face him, not after everything I did.” 

“Hydra did.” Howard snaps, glaring at Barnes. “We talked about this. You didn’t do anything. You saved me. No arguments.” 

The sigh that emits from Barnes is one he’s heard many times. The guilt weighs heavily on him. 

“Your kid…” Barnes starts, “I heard a bit of what he said… he’s looking for you. He’s asking Steve for help.” 

Howard chuckles. “Then we’ve both got stubborn little punks after us, don’t we? Sounds like it’s going to all work out alright.” 

The ghost of a smile returns.

————-

Steve has his headphones on, listening to one of his favorite score playlists, painting with his hands. He’s been distracted since yesterday. 

In fact, he’d worn his headphones to work that day. Something he’s never done before. When Sarah walked into the diner at 4a.m. that morning (he’d been there since 3) and came over to greet him, she’d given him an eyebrow raise and he’d just shrugged, eyes downcast. Later he’d caught Sam peering around the corner, watching him. He’d pretended not to notice. 

He let his fingers glide over the canvas, swirling a deep jungle green and a black, flecks of gold paint shimmering through. His hands moved without thought, moving and dragging paint into a swirling shape and then spreading out towards the edges, letting the song’s rhythm be his guide. 

He stopped, wiping at his brow, and setting the canvas back onto the easel.

His music stops abruptly and his head pops up, finding Wanda standing behind him, his phone in her hands. 

“Why are you sad?” She says the question in a whisper, but she knows that he can hear her, now that his music is stopped. He pretends he doesn’t though, pulling the over-ears down around his neck.

“What’s up, Wanda?”

Her eyes narrow, and she nods at the painting. “Why are you sad?” 

He tilts his head, “What do you mean?” 

“Whenever you're sad, you obsessively listen to sad score music, paint with your hands, and use those colors.” His brows furrow, and he shakes his head. 

“Wanda, what on earth are you talking about?” 

She huffs at him but points out to the living room, “there’s some girl here, but we will talk about this later. You have paint on your forehead and in your hair.” 

He goes to wipe it but she just chuckles, “you’re making it worse.” 

He sighs and exits his room, careful not to touch anything as the acrylic paint starts to dry on his skin. He’s surprised to find Lily in his living room, holding something in her hands.

“Lily,” he says calmly, vibrantly aware of Wanda hiding and listening in the hallway. “How can I help you?” 

She smiles ruefully at him and then looks up at I’m through her lashes, “I just… I felt really bad about yesterday, I shouldn’t have jumped you like that. I… I get really emotional when I talk about Michael and I-I just felt so drawn to you.” She takes a step towards him and he resists the urge to step back. “I brought you an ‘I’m sorry for kissing you like a crazy person’.” He winces at the small gasp he hears Wanda make from her hiding spot. 

“It’s really okay, Lily. I understand that talking about your brother is an emotional thing, I won’t hold it against you.” He steps forward, aiming for the door to open it for her to leave but she cuts him off, stepping closer. He hears Wanda’s door open and he can hear her typing on her phone. 

“Steve?” She asks softly, walking even closer and placing her hand on his arm, “Would you tell me more about working with him?” Her eyes flutter and look deeply into his. Something about it seems private, like he shouldn’t be telling her anything, but this was Michael’s sister… he owes it to him to talk to his family and help carry on his legacy. 

“Sure,” he relents, “would you like something to drink?” 

She smiles softly at him, “Actually,” she holds up a small box, Twinings it reads. “This was Michael’s favorite tea.” 

Something in him softens at the sight and he nods, grabbing the box from her. “Of course, that sounds wonderful. Cream and Sugar?” She nods and he smiles, pointing her to the couch. 

She sits and watches him make tea, eyeing his apartment. 

He brings the mugs over and sets them down on coasters, she scoots closer, picking hers up, and leaning towards him, almost touching. “Tell me about what he was like on a mission?” 

Steve took a deep breath, blowing out slowly as he cooled his own mug of tea. He thought back, he’d worked with Michael for the tail end of his career, the last year and a half he was overseas. 

“Well,” Steve began, “One time, there was this argument about—“ 

—————

Peggy sits huddled in a chair, headphones over her ears and tissues at her feet. She is long past trying to stop the tears as they flow down her face. She listens in rapt attention as Steve tells story after story about Michael, about her brother. He tells stories that make her heart ache, stories that are heartfelt, and even ones that make her laugh through the tears at Michael’s odd sense of humor.

Lorraine does an excellent job of listening and asking questions that make it seem like she knew the man they were both talking about. Peggy’s heart rips in pieces as he tells a particularly heartfelt story of Michael sharing his food with Steve when he could tell that Steve was still hungry and they were trapped behind enemy lines, unable to get more supplies. The softness in Steve’s voice as he talks about her brother has her choking out a sob. 

She hears a knock, startling, but then realizes she’s hearing the knock through the wire. 

“Come in!” She hears Steve call out. The door opens. “Oh, hey Natasha, I didn’t know you were coming over.” 

“Yeah, Wanda texted me saying there was an em—“

“Tasha!” Wanda’s voice is shrill, cutting off the other girl. “Come on, I got some homework I need help with.”

Peggy can’t help but smile at the slight affront in Steve’s voice, “Wanda, I could have helped you.”

“I know, I just needed Natasha for this one!” She hears shuffling and Wanda’s door closes. 

“So that’s your little sister?” 

“She and I were foster siblings, but yes I would consider us brother and sister.” 

Lorraine makes a softhearted sigh that makes Peggy’s hair on her neck stand up. 

“You don’t know how special it is for a girl to have such a special older brother. I’m glad Wanda has you.” 

She hears Steve clear his throat. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can I…” Lorraine pauses and Peggy sucks in a breath, “Would you be so against me kissing you again?” 

“Oh. Uh.. Well, I—“

“You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met.” Lorraine pushes, “I’ve never met a more handsome man who doesn't act like he knows it. You obviously care for those around you, and you knew my brother.” The pause has Peggy standing up, then Lorraine speaks a question she wasn’t expecting, “unless there’s someone else?” There’s too long of a silence where Peggy lets herself hope he might say her name, but Lorraine steps in again, “I wanted to ask Maggie if you had a girlfriend but she left for a date with her boyfriend after that, so I didn’t get a chance to ask her. I hope I’m not being too forward…” 

Steve’s voice is a bit brittle when he responds, “no there’s no one else.” 

Peggy is seeing red. She knows whatever Lorraine is saying is for the mission, but she’s so blinded by rage that she can’t think straight. She’s trying to take a deep breath when her phone, the phone that she uses for civilian interactions beeps.

It’s from Wanda:

You have a boyfriend?

Bloody Hell, Peggy thinks to herself. She sets the phone down. She can’t deal with that now. She listens back in. 

“Then won’t you let me kiss you?” 

“I’m not looking for a relationship right now.” Steve says quickly. 

“I’m not either, Steve. I just want to thank you for all you’ve done for this country, for my brother.” Then she kisses him, not waiting for him to accept it. Peggy can’t see it, but she can hear the startled sound that exits Steve and is muffled by Lorraine’s lips. 

Lorraine makes an indecent sound, a mix between a sigh and a moan and it must snap Steve to his senses because there’s sort of a shuffling sound and she can hear him clear his throat and back away. 

“Sorry,” he huffs, “my little sister is here and I don’t feel comfortable with—“ he cuts himself off and Lorraine is quick to jump in. 

“Oh my, of course, Steve. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking about how that would come across. I truly apologize. I just…” she pauses and it’s a weighted silence. “Do you think I could come see you again? Maybe when it’s just you at home?” 

The brazen offer has Peggy gripping the sides of her chair. 

But she’s surprised when Steve’s voice is firm, “Sorry, no, I don’t think so. I don’t think that would be a good idea.” 

Lorraine’s disappointment is palpable, even in the silence. 

“Okay.” She finally says, “if that’s how you feel.” 

“It is,” Steve’s voice is flat.

Lorraine makes a noncommittal sound and Peggy hears the door to Steve’s apartment open and she’s on her feet in an instant. She throws off the head phones, dashing about, picking up every tissue and running to the bathroom. She dumps the tissues in the trash, and quickly turns on the facet, flushing her eyes and face with cold water. She hears her door open and she gives her face one more rinse, drying it with a towel and fixing her smudging makeup. 

She steps out of the bathroom, dry eyed and fresh. 

Lorraine has an annoyed look on her face. 

“What?” Peggy asks, letting annoyance color her tone. 

“Mr. Goody-two-shoes, isn’t going to give anything else up to me.” 

Peggy huffs, acting like she hadn’t heard the conversation. “What do you mean?” 

“He gave me some good stories about your brother but nothing useful, no real details or locations or even names I could use. So I tried to kiss him again, even had my hand running strategically up his thigh, and the guy actually pushed me away.” 

“Really?” Peggy doesn’t let the intense satisfaction she feels at Lorraine’s annoyance show. 

“Yeah, I even offered to come back later when the little brat of a sister was gone.” 

Peggy’s about to snap at her comment about Wanda when Lorraine changes direction. 

“That girl purposefully had a friend come over to interrupt us, such an amateur move.” Lorraine’s eye roll is almost the last straw. “But seems like he doesn't want any kind of company.” Her voice is dripping with annoyance and she glares at Peggy. “Guess it’s up to you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peggy asks, affronted. 

“He’s more the emotional connection type. I work with the physical. So this one’s all you. Good luck in boring-town.” 

Peggy’s mouth is parted in surprise as Lorraine throws her an additional eye-roll and disappears back out the door. 

Before Peggy can think about what she’s doing she grabs her phone and types back to Wanda

What? No I don’t… Who told you that?

The response is immediate

That Bitch! Okay, good. I was going to be really mad. 

Wanda, what is going on? 

Nothing. Just… making sure. 

Oookay. Whatever you say little Hyena :) 

:D

Peggy smiles and for the first time in the last 50 hours feels like maybe, just maybe she has a chance to fix this. 

—————

Chapter Text

“Steve?”

His head snaps up from where he’s standing. Wanda is watching him, peeking out from the hallway, he can hear Natasha’s heartbeat behind her, hiding against the wall. Only Sam, Sarah, Wanda, and Natasha knew about him. Everyone else just thought he’d hit a major growth spurt and joined the army. Better for them that way. 

His voice is a bit dry when he responds, “yeah?” 

“Who was she?” 

“The sister of one of my men. You know the funeral I went to in London?”

“Yeah.”

“His sister.” 

“Oh, I’ve never heard you mention her before.” 

“I’ve never met her before yesterday.”

“And she’s kissing you?” 

Steve grimaces, “don’t remind me.” 

Wanda laughs, “Wow, that bad huh?” 

Natasha peeks her eyes over Wanda’s shoulders. “I shouldn’t feel so off about it.” Steve replies, “but something about her put me on edge. Not sure why.” 

“Well, for starters, she’s a liar.” 

His head pulls back in surprise, “Liar? About what?” 

“Maggie doesn't have a boyfriend.” 

His brow furrows and he looks at the door, “And how do you know that?” 

“I asked her.” 

“Why would she lie about that?” 

Wanda rolls her eyes at him. “It’s like you don’t know anything about girls at all.” 

Steve sighs, not taking the bait. “Well it doesn’t matter anyways.” He turns towards the kitchen, pulling out flour and butter and eggs, needing to bake something. Keep his hands occupied. 

“Steeeevee.” Wanda whines, dragging Natasha forward. “You need to talk to Maggie. She likes you!” 

“No. She doesn’t.” He denies, gathering measuring cups and disappearing behind the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose as he does so. 

“Come on, Steve. You’re so oblivious, it’s painful!” He pops back up and glares at her with an annoyed face. 

“Wanda, back off, okay? Even if she did, it wouldn't matter.” 

“What? Why not!”

“Because I’m not going to date her!” 

Wanda rolls her eyes again and jumps on a stool, watching as his hands work methodically measuring out ingredients. “And why not?”

“Because I’m not going to date anyone.” 

Natasha makes her presence more known, scoffing and settling on the stool next to Wanda, “Come on, Steve, why won’t you date anyone right now? You’re out of the army, you have a job, you’re—“ she blushes the tiniest bit before straightening her face, “you’re handsome and an incredible cook—“ 

Steve’s voice is harsher than he means when he responds, “No, you don’t get it. I’m not going to date anyone. Not now. Not ever.” 

Both girls frown and he glares down at the dough forming in his hands. 

“Steve—“

“No, Wanda. I’ve already had this conversation with Sam, and I don’t have to explain myself—” 

“But, why!” She cuts him off, teenage frustration coloring her voice, as she crosses her arms over her chest, “why can’t you—“ 

Before he really thinks, he’s grabbing a thick metal baking sheet and he tears it in half. Like it’s nothing. Like it's a thin sheet of paper. He drops the pieces onto the counter and they clatter. Both girls are staring at him with saucer wide eyes. 

He grimaces and anguish covers his expression. “You know when you asked me a while ago why I stopped hugging you and I told you I wanted to be careful because of what that judge said?” 

She nods numbly, her eyes still on the twisted piece of metal on the counter. 

“I lied. It’s getting worse. Everything’s getting… more. I don’t know— I can’t control it. I broke off the doorknob of my room again. I crunched a table at Sam’s!” His voice gets a dose of hysteria and he covers his eyes with his hand, “I tried holding the door of an elevator the other day and the metal bent in,” a humorless chuckle escapes him, “I had to lie and say the metal was probably weak to begin with! I can’t trust my own hands!” He hears their heart rates rising in tandem. And he breathes out in desperation, “I can hear your hearts. Did you know that?” Their heart rates go higher,  He leans his head back, “you’re scared of me.” He waits for them to deny it, but they’re still stunned and it makes a knot in his throat. “How can I be in a relationship when I can’t even hug them or hold their hand without worrying about snapping their bones?” He sighs, “No one wants to date a monster.” This snaps Wanda’s eyes up to him. She opens her mouth to say something but he cuts her off. “I gotta go.” He can’t stand the look of fear in her eyes. “I’ll clean this up when I get back.” 

He’s out the door, wiping flour off of his hands onto his jeans, the two girls silent behind him.

————

Peggy waits a few hours. She gets a text from Phillips about an hour after Lorraine had left, “You have one more chance. If you don’t get information soon, we’re bringing him in on charges of collusion with Barnes.” 

She’d huffed, that charge wouldn’t stick but it would be enough for Steve to piece together her involvement and what they were after. And even though she’d denied it to Clint, she didn’t want him finding out like that. 

She knocks on the door to Steve’s, and when no one answers she tries again. No answer. She looks down the hallway and tries his door. It’s locked. She considers her options before running back to her apartment and grabbing her lock pick set. 

She’s inside his apartment in moments, well practiced with breaking and entering during missions. The lights are off and she doesn’t turn them on. She walks to his room, a place she’s never been and uses her phone as a flashlight. She touches nothing as she looks. 

His room has canvases all over, an easel with plastic on the floor underneath it to protect the carpet from paint. Even in the dim light they take her breath away. Some are portraits or scenes, others abstract or impressionistic. One lies on the ground, finger trails clear and she can picture him dragging his fingers through the paint. She walks to his nightstand, the bed impeccably made. Three framed photos sit there and she studies them. 

One is at a birthday party. Steve is painfully small, thin cheek bones and all angles, his skin pale and pulled tight, but his smile is bright and the colorful pointed hat on his head makes her smile. A beautiful woman stands next to him, the blonde hair making it obvious that it’s his mother. She has an arm around his shoulders and is holding a cake server in the other hand. Peggy’s eyes are drawn to the dark haired boy who stands at Steve’s other side, making a silly face at the camera. Barnes. The candles tell her that Steve is turning 8 in the photo.

Her chest tightens and she drags her eyes over to the second photo. It’s Steve, older, maybe in his teens, still stick thin and angles. His face is older, more mature. She recognizes Wanda standing there, her body angled behind Steve’s because Barnes is there again, standing on Wanda’s other side, reaching down as if to tickle her. Her eyes are bright with mirth and Barnes’ face is teasing. Steve looks down at them, his body posture clearly trying to protect Wanda, his face full of a fondness that has Peggy breathless. 

The third photo is a group of them: Wanda, Natasha, Sam, Sarah, Steve, and Bucky. They’re sitting in a group around a restaurant table. Steve’s eyes are on the camera, and he’s smiling but it’s a withdrawn smile. Bucky sits to his right, in full uniform, ready to ship out, a bright smile on his face. This could only have been a few years ago but Steve is still significantly smaller than he is now.

She stands up, her footsteps receding from the room. She should take photos of those, to show Phillips, but she finds that she can’t bring herself too.

She looks around, nudging drawers open and then closing them exactly as they were, trying to glean any other information she can, but there’s nothing. His house is full of items, but nothing personal about him. There’s a safe she finds, hidden in the back of a coat closet, but it’s a keypad code and it would take her forever to figure it out. She tries to see if there’s smudges or oils to give her clues, but she’s unsurprised that a military man knows how to cover his tracks. 

She’s taking one last glance around, about to leave when she spots it. Something twisted and metal on the counter. She steps closer, her eyes widening at the baking sheet that looks like it was somehow ripped in half. Even the edges where it is torn looks like it has finger impressions at the top. 

She takes an aborted step backwards, somehow the sight sends a thrill of fear up her back, and she leaves, locking the door carefully behind her. 

———

Clint watches from the rafters, his eyes trained on the figure absolutely wailing on the punching bag below. 

He’d been about to go tell Peggy that he was out of line for what he’d said before, when he’d almost run into Steve on his way up the steps. Luckily for him, Steve had been distracted and hadn’t noticed. After a moment’s hesitation, Clint had decided to follow him. He’d trailed him slowly, making sure to remain unnoticed. Steve had led him to a boxing gym that was about to close, but he watched as Steve paid the man a wad of cash and was given a key. When Steve went into the locker rooms, Clint had carefully climbed up the steps to the offices, and then used his past training to haul himself up onto the metal rafters and there he waited until Steve had exited, knuckles wrapped, clothes changed, and headphones over his ears. 

Now he watched with wide eyes as Steve threw a particularly hard punch, sending the punching bag flying, breaking off it’s hook and slamming against the wall, exploding and sending sand everywhere. 

Clint’s mouth gapes as he watches the man not even react, just walking over to a stack of extra punching bags against the wall and hauls another one up, as if it weighed nothing, and hooking it on the support.

It’s hours before Steve stops, even from here he can see the blood pouring from Steve’s knuckles and the sweat covering his back. 

It’s almost painful to watch Steve pick up the three busted punching bags at once, and haul them out the back doors towards what Clint assumes is the dumpster. It occurs to Clint he must do this often because he knows exactly where everything is. The broom and dustpan follow as Steve methodically sweeps up the large amount of sand spread everywhere. 

When Steve is finished cleaning up, he heads to the locker rooms and Clint clambers down, hiding in the shadows. When Steve emerges, freshly showered and dressed in a new set of clothes, sans headphones, he’s planning on following Steve when the aforementioned man stops abruptly. 

“Who’s there?” He calls in a deep voice. Clint shrinks back further into the shadows, certain that he hadn’t made any noise. “I can hear you breathing.” Steve says in a tone that makes Clint want to shiver in fear, but he remains absolutely still. “Scared aren’t you?” Steve seethes, “I can hear your heart racing. Get out here and show me your face, you coward.” Steve advances on his location and Clint finds himself rooted to the spot. He can see Steve, as he’s perched behind a set of mats, but his angle hides him from Steve’s eyes. For now. “Are you the one who dropped the note on my door?” Steve asks, closing the gap faster than Clint can react. But he does, throwing himself off the mats and grasping the metal sidings of the building. He barely makes it off the ground before Steve is under him, reaching up. He’s lucky this side of the building doesn't have lights on, and covers his face. “Get down here.” Steve commands.

Something about his tone makes Clint want to obey, and it’s terrifying. He scrambles higher, using his agility to haul himself back up into the ceiling rafters and against the glass windows which thankfully open as he nudges them. 

He’s about to slip his foot through one when Steve’s voice cuts through the air again, “Don’t you dare.” A crunching metal sound causes him to freeze and he watches as Steve takes a step back, getting a running start and launches himself up, reaching higher than Clint knows is humanly possible, gripping onto the balcony railing just a few feet below him. 

Even as the alarm bells in Clint’s head are ringing, screaming at him to get the hell out of there . He’s rooted to the spot, watching as Steve hauls himself onto the metal supports, and stares at Clint. 

“Who are you?” He calls, and some part of Clint’s brain is relieved that it’s too dark for Steve to recognize him. “Tell me why you’re here watching me.”

That snaps Clint out of his frozen state and he pushes the window open with his shoulder, just wide enough for him to squeeze out. 

“Stop!” Steve commands, but this time he doesn’t. Some part of him knows that if Steve gets his hands on him… Well it wouldn’t be good. He’s out the window, grasping the ledge and looking below. There’s an adjoining roof just ten feet below and he slides down the wall, landing adeptly on his toes and then jumping to the ground level. Running and not looking back. 

———-

Steve leaps towards the higher rafters, pulling himself over and balancing towards the edge. The man who had just escaped was incredibly agile. Steve sticks his head out the window and the darkness of the street makes it hard to see, even with his enhanced vision. He can hear running feet fading faster and disappearing around a corner. He curses, dropping back down to the ground and sitting against the cold metal siding of the building. Questions buzz through his mind, who, why, how long? Does the man know about his… condition? 

He screws his palms into his eyes, mad at himself. If he hadn’t known before, he would know now. He curses himself for being such an idiot and jumping that high to try to catch him. 

He pulls out his phone and sends the same text to two people: Tony and Sam. 

Steve: Something’s up. Someone was watching me at the gym tonight. May have given them an eyeful. They got away.

It’s Tony who texts back first, the insomniac

Tony: They got away? How? 

Steve: They were very agile, climbing through rafters and slipping out 20 feet high windows. 

Tony: Like a ninja?

Another text pops in and Steve switches screens.

Sam: Uh-oh. You gunna report it?

Steve: To who? I don’t want to be back on anyone’s radar. And I’m for sure not telling the cops.

Sam: So you’re just gunna let this stalker go? What did he see?

Steve winces as he responds:

Steve: I think he watched me on the punching bags, and I know he saw me jump too high trying to catch up to him

Sam: shit.

Steve: Yeah.

Sam: Watch your back. Anything I can do? 

Steve: no, just… be careful. I don’t want this to lead back to you. 

Sam sends the eye-roll emoji, but Steve knows he gets it. When you work the kind of missions they did? You stayed alert even at home. 

He switches back screens.

Steve: Tony? Make sure you and your mom have good security. I’m sure you do, but just… Be careful. 

Tony surprises Steve by not responding sarcastically. 

Tony: I will.

——————

Clint: Peggy, we need to talk. Now. Like NOW. 

Peggy reads the text, her eyebrows knitting together. 

Peggy: Okay, where? You want to come here? You could sneak in and out of the building probably without anyone seeing you

Clint: NO

There’s a beat before another text comes through. 

Clint: No. Come to my place. Hurry.

Peggy sighs, she wants to text back that she is tired. That she’s busy doing some research of her own and wants to just stay in her fake home, but something about his texts tips her off that something is up. So she huffs, sliding off her couch and running to her room. She slides on tennis shoes, grabs her purse and is out the door. 

———-

He basically assaults her as he pulls her inside, closing the door behind her quickly. 

“Did he follow you? Did he know you were leaving?” 

Peggy reels back from the intensity of his questions, “what? Who?”

“Steve!” Clint shouts, eyes a bit wild, “Did he follow you?” 

“Clint, what the hell?” She stares at him and has never seen him look so rattled. “No, he wasn’t even home. He hasn’t been for hours— Clint, what is going on?” 

“He’s strong, Peggy. He’s strong . Like scary strong. He’s fast too. He can jump. Hell. He can jump.” He’s rambling but Peggy doesn’t stop him. “He almost caught me, I’ve done missions all over the world. I’ve faced terrorists and bad guys and all sorts of the scum of the earth, but—“ he pauses, his eyes far away. “When he came after me, I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been more afraid in my entire life. His redacted files, the things the government doesn’t even want published to their highest security intelligence agency just ran through my mind. He almost caught me.”

“Steve?”

He snaps to, “yes! Steve! Maybe he really is in cahoots with Barnes…” 

He trails off and his 180 about Steve has her bristling, Peggy grabs his shoulders. “Clint, I don’t understand. What happened? Tell me everything.” 

He slides down onto one of his few kitchen chairs and starts at the beginning.

————

When he finishes she sits there stunned, three words slipping out of her mouth. “The baking sheet.” 

“Huh?”

“There was a ripped baking sheet in his apartment. Ripped in half. Like a sheet of paper.” 

“Geez.” 

“So he’s… what… an alien?”

Peggy glares at him and he throws up his hands, “then what? Because what I saw wasn’t human!” 

“He really did use to be very small until like just a few years ago, I saw photos in his bedroom.” 

Clint stares at her in surprise and she huffs, “I broke into his apartment tonight.” 

“We have to tell Phillips.” Clint whispers. 

“What?” Peggy cries, “No! He’ll… we need to— we can’t. Not yet. I need to know more.” 

“Know more what? The guy is a monster!” 

“I don’t know if I believe that! I’ve never seen him be anything but kind!” The complete turnaround in this argument throws her off center. Now it’s Clint calling for Steve’s arrest. 

“You didn’t see him jump 15 feet in the air and threaten me!”

“Yes, well if I found someone stalking me, I would most likely be very upset too!” 

Clint’s mouth gapes open but remains silent. He snaps his mouth closed and thinks. “Okay, you have a point there.” 

“Just give me another day. I can… I don’t know. But I’ll figure something out. Some piece of this ludicrous puzzle is missing and I hate it.”

“What about Barnes? He’s here, somewhere, how is that a coincidence?” 

She scrubs under her eyes with her knuckles, trying to relieve the tension, “I don’t know. Something about him in that video is off. He’s been terrorizing the European continent for three years, and then suddenly he’s here in New York right as we get intel about him and his old best friend who so happens to have… what?… terrifying abilities? And where the hell is Howard Stark?” 

“This sounds like we’re on crazy pills.” 

Peggy sighs, “welcome to Shield.” 

—————

He takes the long way home. Walking slowly and keeping his eyes on the alleys. He’s just turned onto his block when a glint of metal catches his sight. He’s on guard immediately as a figure appears. Standing in his way.

“Who are you?” Steve asks, his eyes noting that the street is empty. Good. Less of an audience. “Were you the one watching me tonight?” 

The man steps closer, his hand pulling up in front of him, a gun in his hand. “Are you Steve?” 

He feels his jaw clench, “Depends on who’s asking.” 

The man steps forward again, into the light of the street lamp and Steve feels his blood run cold.  “Bucky?” He rasps out. 

The man nods, “I think so.” 

“What— You…” Steve takes a step forward, outstretched hand, when the gun goes off, shooting Steve right under the collarbone. He lets out a groan, clutching his shoulder, bending slightly and staring into the eyes of his best friend. They’re wild and terrified. 

“Stop.” Bucky says, his voice cracking. “Don’t.”

“Bucky,” Steve tries again, “What’s going on?” He groans again, his shoulder throbbing. The bullet didn’t exit and he’s going to have to dig it out. “I thought you were dead.” 

“I was.” 

“I searched for you, I looked everywher—“

“Stop!” Bucky shouts, clutching at his head, giving Steve a full view of his metal arm. 

Steve’s eyes widen and he moves forward. Bucky reacts instantly and Steve receives another shot to the chest. He looks down at the blood seeping out of the two holes in his thin shirt. He looks up, and Bucky is standing there looking like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Bucky? I’m your friend.” Steve whispers. “How are you here? Where have you been?”

“Trapped,” is all Bucky says.

The pain is increasing, but what’s making Steve woozy is the blood loss. He stabs his fingers into the closely grouped holes, wincing at the sharp pain, but stopping the blood flow. 

“Come upstairs,” Steve says, “We can work it out, whatever you’re trapped in—“

“Give this to Tony.” Bucky whispers, tossing something at Steve. It lands at his feet, a flash drive. He’s backing away from Steve and a wild desperation to keep him makes Steve step forward. 

“Please, Bucky, don’t leave!” His voice is brittle and desperate, “I can help, don’t go!” His eyes rove over his best friend, taking in his pale features. He’s skinny, not eating enough, Steve’s brain tells him, and then the metal arm… When did that happen? The man turns to run and Steve ignores the throbbing from the gunshots and sprints forward, grasping his friend’s arm and yanking him backwards. 

Bucky’s eyes go flat and he twists his arm, freeing it from Steve’s grasp and shoving him backwards. Before Steve can respond, Bucky’s boot is slamming into his chest, throwing him backwards into a lamp post. It bends and creaks, breaking off and falling to the ground with a resounding crash. Steve’s hands fly up, protecting his head from the shattering glass and metal that goes flying. 

When he looks up, Bucky is gone and he can hear sirens in the distance. He scrambles to his feet, grabbing the flash drive. He’s about to sprint after his back-from-the-dead best friend when he catches the few drops of blood reflecting at him off the asphalt. He growls in frustration and dashes to a trash can, flinging the lid opening and searching through its contents. His hand grabs a half-full plastic bottle and he sends up a silent prayer of thanks. With one hand, he unscrews the lid and pours whatever liquid is inside over the drops of blood, obscuring them and hopefully keeping anyone from identifying him. 

The blue and red lights flash around the corner and Steve gives one last longing look in the direction that Bucky had disappeared in, before sighing in defeat. He flys up the stairs of his apartment building, not stopping until he’s at his door. He uses his non-bloody hand to open it, locking it behind him and racing to the bathroom. He jumps into the shower, not turning the water on yet, he rips off his shirt and dumps it into the tub. 

He wants to take the bullets out now, but a knock on his door gets his attention. Even from the bathroom he can hear her. 

“Steve? Steve, are you okay? I just heard gunshots and then I heard your door, are you okay? Where’s Wanda?” 

He takes a deep breath. He grabs his towel, gritting his teeth, he wipes the blood off his skin and sighs, he’s going to have to dig them out later. He grabs two gauze pads, taping them down with military precision. The blood flow is already slowing as his healing takes over. He grabs a shirt and is putting it on when she knocks again. 

“Steve? I don’t mean to be crazy, but I’m scared. Are you okay?” 

The concern in her voice is soft and he relaxes slightly. He opens his door and she looks up in surprise, her eyes taking him in as if she didn’t expect him to answer. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He says calmly, “I heard them too, ran up the stairs.” 

Something flashes across her face. “Oh. Okay.” She smiles, “good, I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Me too.” He tries to chuckle to seem at ease but it comes out dry. He clears his throat. His chest throbs and he’s glad he’s wearing a black shirt as he can feel a bit of blood seep through the gauze. 

“Steve?” 

“Yeah, Maggie?” 

“I don’t mean to sound like a total coward… But can I stay in your apartment for a bit? I don’t want to be in my apartment alone.” Steve hesitates for just a moment, he really had wanted to get the flash drive to Tony as soon as possible. But here she was, scared and asking for his company. 

Steve softens, his shoulders drooping. “Yeah, Maggie. Of course.” She smiles, letting relief show on her face as she steps inside. 

—————

Ten minutes before

Peggy jolts from sleep. She’d been dreaming and she isn’t sure if the gunshot she just heard was from her nightmare or for real. It isn’t until she hears another that she realizes it's real, and it’s outside. 

Peggy stumbles out of her bed. Her and Clint had agreed to give it a day or two to try to figure more out before going to Phillips. She’d made her way home almost an hour ago and Steve still hadn’t been home. It hadn’t taken long for her to fall asleep, and she is a bit mentally jumbled as she grabs a sweater and pulls it on, tying her hair up. 

The motion sensor for the hallway beeps and her adrenaline spikes. She races to her surveillance equipment and rewinds the footage. She watches as Steve bursts out of the stairwell, his thin blue shirt clinging to his chest, blood visible. She looks on in horror as he lets himself into his apartment. He’s been shot… By who? She tries to think, what will get him to open up to her.

Wanda flashes through her mind. Whatever his past, he’s protective. She’ll play to that weakness. 

Not a weakness . She corrects herself. 

Next she finds herself knocking at his door, saying something about being worried. And then the door is opening, and Steve stands there, calm and collected. Her eyes glance down at his chest, but the new black shirt he has on covers any sign. 

She makes up a sob story about being scared to be alone and is rewarded with a soft smile from Steve. He relaxes and motions for her to come in. She squeezes his bicep in thanks, her fingers lingering just a touch too long, before she pulls it away and makes her way into the apartment. 

She sits on the couch and pats it, motioning for him to join her. He looks distracted and fidgety, but he obliges, sitting on the cushion next to her, plenty of space between them. 

“What is it, Steve?” She asks gently, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost…”

His eyes find hers and it makes her stiffen. The sadness and desperation in them is explicitly clear. She reaches over, her hand resting softly on his, “Steve, tell me, what’s going on?” 

“I think I did see a ghost.” Her eyebrows pucker and he closes his eyes. “I mean… not like that.. I just…” he glances up, “you know how I mentioned I had a friend who died a few years ago?”

“James? Or… Bucky you called him?”

“Yeah…” He shifts and winces slightly. “I swear I saw him tonight.”

She doesn’t react. The gunshots. It was Barnes. It had to be. She lets herself breathe before adding confusion into her tone, “you mean.. you saw someone who looked like him?” 

He doesn’t look at her, just sighs heavily. “Sure… yeah. I guess that could have been it.” He looks at her apologetically, “Sorry, I’m sure I seem crazy.” 

“We’ve just been through a shooting in our neighborhood. You’re allowed to be a little off-kilter.” 

He nods and leans back, looking tired. She eyes his chest, the tiniest of bulges tells her where he must have placed something over the wounds. She wants to insist that he go to the hospital, but she can’t give away that she knows. And then there’s the tiniest sensation of fear that the man next to her has been shot twice and is sitting here like he is completely fine. 

She leans over, setting her shoulder against his. “You wanna watch something?”

His eyes slide her direction, “sure, what do you want to watch?” 

She hmms and pretends to think, “I don’t know. You choose!” 

He blinks slowly, “something with Tom Hanks in it.” 

She looks at him in surprise, “you’re a romantic fan?” 

He doesn’t even smile, just sighs, “my mom loved him. I grew a deep appreciation for his type of humor and acting.” 

“‘You’ve Got Mail’ it is.” She says crisply, pulling up the remote and turning on the TV. 

————-

Steve’s asleep before ‘FOX books’ opens and Peggy is pulling out her phone. She slips off the couch and walks to the edge of the kitchen near the AC to block her voice. 

She dials Phillip’s number. 

“Hello?” An accented voice answers. It’s definitely not Phillips.

“Zola?” Peggy asks, “Where’s Phillips?” 

The man on the other end of the line huffs, “he is out on a conference call. He told me to be taking any messages.” 

Peggy sighs. She’d wanted to tell Phillips directly, “tell him Barnes was outside of Steve’s apartment again tonight. I’m with Rogers now, I’m going to try to get more information out of him, but I wanted to report that he’d been sighted again.” 

“I’ll pass that message along.” Zola responds. “He will be very pleased.” She can hear the smile in his voice and she frowns. He’d only been at Shield for less than two months but he made her nervous with how fast he’d come through the ranks. But he was a brilliant scientist and coder, so her instincts went ignored. She hears the line click and she slips back to the couch. 

Instead of sitting where she had been, she slides closer to Steve, gently shifting his body lower, stopping when he seems to shift towards consciousness, and resuming when he slips back under. Eventually, near the credits, he’s finally horizontal, his back against the seat cushions and his legs stretched at an angle onto the floor. 

His head rests in her lap and his mouth is parted slightly in sleep. Ignoring her better judgement, she traces his jaw with her thumb, enjoying the smooth skin as she trails up to his ear. Her fingers gently slide into his hair, gliding through the soft strands. Steve shifts and she freezes, but he just pushes his head against her palm and something flits in her chest as she realizes he’s enjoying the motion. She runs her fingers through his hair slowly, over and over. His breathing gets deeper and more relaxed. 

She alternates between stroking his face and running her fingers through his hair. Pretending she isn’t enjoying the motion as much as he seems to be in his sleep. After the movie ends, and she’s able to turn something else on, just to keep the background noise going, she moves her other hand down to his chest. Her fingers gently skim where the bulges are that she’d seen earlier. It’s damp to the touch and she pulls her hand back, examining the blood that is on her fingertips. She quickly wipes it onto the underside of her sweater, only the slightest pink left behind. 

Her eyes fall on his face, sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw all relaxed to display how young he really is. Unbidden, Steve shifts, turning his face towards her and snuggling closer, pressing his face against her stomach and sighing. 

Her heart clenches at the motion and her hand trails back through his hair, which draws his hand up and he surprises her by resting his hand on her side, right at her waist. His hand, warm and firm sends a thrill up her spine that she tamps back down. 

This is dangerous, he’s dangerous, her brain shouts, get a grip.

But the nose and lips that she can feel pressed against her stomach makes her brain think some very different things. 

——————

Chapter Text

Steve feels warm, it's a soft and comfortable warmth and as he tries to blink into consciousness, he sighs, not having felt this comfortable in sleep for longer than he can remember. Something is touching his hair, he’s not sure what. 

Without opening his eyes, he pulls his arm up to rub at them when it makes contact with something. Something soft, something warm…

His still sleepy brain instructs his hand to figure out what it could be. His fingers trace a soft fabric with something firm underneath. He finally is able to pull one eyelid open to discover his vision is marred by something. He moves his face only for his nose to brush against something. Skin. Not his own. 

He stiffens, adrenaline spiking through him as he realizes his face is pushed up partially against someone’s silky skin and whatever clothing they’re wearing. His hand then relays back to him that with his new knowledge, his hand is most likely grasping someone’s waist. 

As quietly as he can, because now that he’s fully awake, he can hear the slow and steady sleeping heart beat of the person he is on top of. He pulls his face away, immediately noting the loss of warmth from skin to skin contact, and pushes himself up, removing his hand from her side. He sits there, eyes wide staring at the beautiful woman who sits, head tilted back, mouth parted slightly in sleep. Her curls a mess around her face, but her eyelashes resting gently on her cheeks. A hand rests off to the side and his brain tells him that her hand had been what he felt in her hair. 

Oh geez. Steve thinks to himself, wiping the sleep from his eyes, What did I do?  

He moves and his shoulder twinges, remembrance of the night before strikes him and he groans softly. Digging those bullets out now will mean creating two entirely new wounds. Maggie stirs, her lips moving as if she was speaking in a dream and something in him pangs with loneliness. He knows what he told Sam, told Wanda. But he doesn’t actually want to be alone, just knows that that’s the safest choice for everyone. 

Before he can lose courage, he gently brushes his pointer finger against her cheek, brushing a curl back. She reacts to his touch, a smile crossing her features and he reacts as if slapped. 

Not good. Not good. Get a hold of yourself. You can’t date her. You can’t. 

His eyes stare at her for a moment more, glancing at the still smiling lips and then tearing them away. 

—————-

Peggy wakes with the slightest of cricks in her neck. She pulls her head up from the back of the couch and straightens. One eye blinks open while the other resists. 

Her hands flutter to her lap to find Steve missing. Worry about him is shushed for later while she contemplates where he could be. She stands up, stretching and searching the apartment visually. She notices that the baking sheet halves are gone and the apartment is tidy. A note stuck to the fridge catches her eye and she wanders over. 

Maggie, 

Sorry I fell asleep during the movie. Everyone in the apartment building seems to be fine, and the police have cleared the area, so I think we should be back to normal. There’s some cold brew in the fridge, if you’re into that, and I left a few pastries in the bread box for you if you’re hungry. I had to go to work and I didn’t want to wake you… If you prefer to stay in the apartment instead of going back to your own, feel free. Wanda might stop by after school. She’d be happy to see you.

Steve

Something in Peggy’s chest is tightening and she knows that she’s in deep DEEP trouble. 

————

She decides to go shower and get clean in her apartment and is surprised to not find any messages from Phillips on their secure line. She thinks about calling him, but elects to shower and get ready first. He’s a busy man, he’ll call with an update or news when he has something. She’s sipping the delicious cold brew from Steve’s fridge, a lemon poppyseed scone at her fingertips when the phone rings.

Finally. 

“Agent Carter speaking.” 

“Carter.” Phillips barks. “You better have something for me.”

Peggy frowns, not exactly how she thought he’d respond. “Well, I do have some concerns about Rogers’ health and strength. But what did the security cameras show?”

Phillips’ pauses, “what security cameras?” 

“The one’s from the street? I assume you started going through the ones in the area?”

His voice is low, flat, “why would we do that.” 

“Because of Barnes?” She swallows, why was he acting like this was an interrogation? 

“What about Barnes?” 

Her blood runs cold, “I told Zola to tell you…”

There’s total silence on the other line. 

“Zola did tell you... right?” 

“He left last night in a hurry, said he felt under the weather. Now he’s out sick today.” Phillips' voice gets gravelly, with anger, “What did you tell him?” 

“Barnes was here, last night on the street outside our apartment, he shot Steve, although Steve doesn't know that I know that.”

There’s a string of curses. “How could Zola forget to tell me that?” 

Something clicks in Peggy’s mind. “I don’t think he forget to tell you—“ 

Silence. Then a gruff question. “A mole?” 

“Possibly.”

“For who?” 

“No idea.” 

“Carter, you better be on Rogers’ ass. I don’t care what it takes, I need eyes on him constantly. I’ll call Clint and you can trade shifts when you need to sleep. If Barnes shows his face again, we need to be there ready to catch him.” 

“Yes, si—“

“Wait.” Phillips cuts her off. “You said Barnes shot Steve?”

“Yes.”

“He’s in the hospital?” 

Peggy winces, “No…”

“You wanna explain that a little more?” 

She sighs, “I heard two gunshots, and the footage in the hallway shows Steve running into his apartment with blood on his shoulder and chest. When I knocked on his door, he had changed shirts and seemed fine.” 

“A man who got shot twice was just up and pretending to be fine?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“So maybe he wasn’t shot, maybe it was a scratch or a knife wound.” 

“I’m not sure. I didn't see the wounds. Just heard the gunshots and saw the blood, so I assum—” 

“I don’t pay you to assume, Carter. Find out.” The click on the other end of the line made her huff in annoyance and slam her own receiver down a bit too hard. 

———-

Steve sat in Tony’s room, a huge space with posters on every inch of space. The bed was a jumbled mess and something about it made Steve think that he didn’t sleep well at night. 

Well, Steve could relate to that. 

“So, you’re here tryna tell me, that your best friend, who was dead , is now back in town, shooting you and giving you flash drives that he said to specifically give to me.” 

Steve winces, “that about sums it up.” 

“Huh. Hm.. Very interesting.” 

“Tony, I—“ 

“Listen, you’re a terrible liar, and it’s such an insane statement that I doubt anyone could make it up. I believe you, Steve.” 

He relaxes back into the office chair and nods. 

“Let’s see what we got.” There’s clicking and then Tony inserts the drive, pulling up files. 

A video file named Hello, Tony catches their attention first. He looks at Steve who shrugs and they open it. 

Howard Stark appears, looking pale and tired but alive. 

“Hey, kiddo, I mean. Tony. Sorry I know you hate me calling you kiddo. Anyways, as you can see I’m very much alive. Me and—“

The man looks at something off camera, and he makes a ‘come here’ gesture. Both Tony and Steve gasp as Barnes walks onto the screen. 

“That’s the guy who shoved my dad in a van!”

Steve chokes out, “That’s my best friend…” They turn to stare at each other but Howard is still talking.

“ Barnes here helped me and we escaped together from the middle of nowhere in Siberia about…. ” The man looks up at Barnes, whose pale face and sharp jaw line are in contrast to his longer hair. But Bucky mumbles something and Howard nods, “yeah, like 4ish weeks ago. It’s hard to keep track of time down here and Barnes can’t always snag me a newspaper.” Howard is keeping his tone very light but the subject matter takes a turn. “We’ve been hiding because well, Barnes has been tagged as an international terrorist, through no fault of his own, and I’ll be honest having a recognizable face is my least favorite thing right now.” 

He looks at the camera and it’s like he’s staring directly at Tony. 

“Barnes here says you contacted his friend Steve, which is good, that’s good. I know Steve, he’s a good guy, you can trust him.” Tony snorts and Steve flushes, “ Barnes delivered my wedding ring to you guys and I’m glad he did. He was going to give it to Shield but…” he sighs a long suffering sigh, “ Turns out they’re dirty and if I know Zola then they just want to get their hands on Barnes and if they figure out that Steve is also… enhanced they’re going to try to get their hands on him too. So warn him of that. I doubt all of Shield is corrupt, but with Zola in their ranks I wouldn’t trust anyone there. Keep a watch out for your mom. They’ll use anyone and everyone they can to get their hands on me or Barnes or even Steve if they figure him out. I’ve attached as many files as I have on the organization that had me and Barnes. They’re called Hydra and they might as well be Nazi’s for all the good they want to do in the world. Go through these files I stole on our way out of Siberia and Tony? I don’t know whose hands they belong in. I don’t have access to much tech here, and it’s out of date, but I trust you. I trust your judgement. I need Barnes cleared, I need Hydra either out in the open where they can’t slither away, or at least on the run so I can come home without putting you or your mom in danger.” 

There’s a heavy pause , “I hope she’s okay… I miss you both.” Howard turns towards Bucky and pulls him more into frame, showing off his metal arm. “ Tony, you may have a hard time believing this, but Barnes is not responsible for anything that he’s done under Hydra’s name. I know you watched him shove me in that van, but…” Bucky looks stiff and his face is furrowed, “Just take a look at some of the files that I included, it’s under the Winter Soldier program.  Anything you want to say Barnes?” 

Bucky looks positively sick, but he makes a quick eye contact with the camera before speaking, “ Don’t…” He glances at Howard who nods , “Don’t let Steve see those files, okay? I don’t want him to see, but can you tell Steve that I’m okay? I know he thinks I’m dead, but… I’m not. Can you tell him? I don’t want him to worry, he always acts stupid when he worries. ” 

Something about the phrase has Howard lighting up like a christmas tree, “Yes! Barnes! You remembered something about him, that’s good!” Howard turns towards the screen, “ They had to get rid of Steve to break him down— “ he cuts himself off, “You’ll see, just… go through the files and I’ll be in contact soon. Love you, kiddo. I mean… Nah, I mean kiddo. See you soon.” 

The video cuts off and Tony looks at Steve’s stricken face, “Uh… guess I wasn’t supposed to have you watch that… whoops.” 

Steve looks at Tony, forehead creased, “what did he mean by also enhanced?” 

“I’m thinking Barnes is souped up too.” 

Steve groans and buries his face in his hands, then he snaps up.  “Pull up the Winter Soldier files.”

“Oh.. uh…”

“Tony.”

“He said… Barnes didn’t want you to see.”

“I don’t care.” 

“Steve—“ 

“I want to know what happened to my best friend.” 

“But he doesn’t want you to—“ 

“I’m not arguing about this, Tony! You’re going to show me!” 

“No.” Tony snaps, glaring at Steve. “I’m not. For some unknown reason, my dad trusted this guy to save him, and I’m trusting my dad.” He pulls the flash drive from the computer and stuffs it in his pocket. Steve’s nostrils flare and he stabs a finger in Tony’s direction. 

“Stop messing around, Tony.” 

“I’m not!” The teenager huffs, standing up, “are you going to threaten me? Hurt me? You could probably take this from me by force without blinking, so are you going to?”

Steve’s expression goes from anger to annoyance to resignation, “No. I’m not going to force you.” 

Tony seems a bit surprised, “oh. Well good.” 

Steve stands up, grabbing a jacket he doesn’t need but carries out of habit from when he was small. “Just… if there’s something, anything you think I should know.. or can do… You’ll tell me?” 

“I will. I promise.” 

Steve seems to believe him, “I’ll be at the diner ‘til late today. Okay?”

“Go bake some delicious stuff for my dad and Barnes to eat, they look like they need it.” Steve’s face shifts into a grimace and Tony feels a twinge, he’s only been missing his dad for less than a year, Steve has been missing his best friend for three. “we’re going to have them home soon. Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

—————-

“He’s alive.”

Sam looks up at Steve who’s almost late to work. “Who’s alive? And I never thought I’d see the day where you came in to work less than 30 minutes early.” 

Steve doesn’t react to the jab. “Bucky’s alive.” 

Sam and Angie’s faces both snap towards him. “Steve? What are you talking about?” 

“I saw him last night… and I need your help with something.” 

Steve sees Sam throw a cautious glance at Angie, “uh, buddy? I think maybe you hit your head, or maybe you found the real strong pain pill because—“

“Sam!” Steve shouts, the emotions of everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours pouring out of him, “Bucky is alive, and I know this because he came to my street last night and shot me .” Steve drags the collar of his shirt down, displaying the two red puckered, half healed over wounds on his chest, “and he gave me a flash drive that I took to Tony, and it had a video of Howard and Bucky on it. They’re together in hiding right now because of some evil organization that I actually think I remember hearing ghost stories about in basic.” His face is red and he’s breathing forcefully when he finishes.

Sam blinks at him, “he shot you?” 

Steve groans, waving his hands dramatically, “after everything I said, that’s the part you focus on?”

“What part am I supposed to focus on!” Sam snaps back, “the part where your dead best friend shot you? Or the part where he’s in hiding with a weapons contracting billionaire?” 

The booth creaks as Steve sits down heavily in one. “I’m fine, or I will be once I dig these out.” 

“They’re still in there?!” Sam asks incredulously. 

Steve winces, “yeah, I was going to get them out but Maggie heard the gunshots and was scared so she came over.” 

Angie, who they’d temporarily forgotten was listening to their whole exchange as she filled the salt shakers, clapped with glee. “I knew you’d pick her! OooOoo, she came to you for protection? That’s so sweet!” 

The flush on Steve’s cheeks alerts them, “wait!” Angie crows, “did something happen between you last night?” 

“What!” Steve reacts, “no! Of course not!” 

“You sure turned a pretty shade of pink—“

“Can we get back to Bucky here?” 

“Right.” Sam says, tamping his smile down, “What can we do?” 

“Nothing right now, apparently…” Steve glances at the empty diner, it isn’t opening yet, “he’s been in deep with this organization, and Howard says it isn’t his fault, but they need to get his name cleared first. I don’t understand all of it, Tony’s going through the files, I’m just…”

“Overwhelmed?” 

He crinkles his nose, sighing deeply, “kinda.” Then he looks guiltily at Sam. “I uh.. I can’t take them out at home…” he glances down at his chest, “You mind?” 

The eye-roll from Sam is over dramatic but he nods and motions for Steve to follow him into the bathroom. Steve pulls out a small kit from his back pocket. “I figured I should bring these, so we don’t use your nice kitchen knives.” 

The long running joke between them is acknowledged by Sam with a guffaw of laughter. “Yeah, yeah.” Sam snatches the small medical kit from Steve’s hands and pulls out the scalpel and forceps. “You ready for this?” Steve removes his shirt, sitting on the counter. 

Steve swallows thickly, eyeing the scalpel, “I don’t think I’ll even feel it.” 

“Ha. Good one.” Sam’s steady hands slices a straight line over the wound. Steve’s eyes twitch but he stays perfectly still. After each slice, Sam checks to see if he can see the bullet. If he can’t, he slices a layer deeper. “Geez, Steve…” he says after the 5th cut. 

“Sorry.” Steve murmurs, his eyes closed and teeth clenched. 

Two slices later, Sam makes a noise and grabs the forceps, “hang onto something.” He digs the tool into Steve’s skin and carefully grasps the bullet between the metal prongs. He makes a soft groaning sound as Sam frees the bullet from his skin and drops it into Steve’s palm. “Just one more.” All light heartedness is gone as Sam takes in the layer of sweat on Steve’s face. “Man, I figured with super strength you wouldn’t hurt this bad.” 

“Nah,” Steve says through clenched teeth as Sam makes the first cut over the second wound. “My nerves are all hypersensitive.” He makes a small gasping sound as Sam cuts deeper, “hurts w-worse.” 

“That’s a shitty side effect.” 

Steve can’t respond. Just tries to sit as still as possible, eyes closed and hands clenching at his jeans. 

After the second bullet fingers it’s way into Steve’s palm, he relaxes. Sam wipes the wound clean, dressing it and Steve pulls his shirt back on. 

“Anything else I should know?” Sam asks lightly as they head back out. The pained look on Steve’s face sets Sam on edge, “what? What is it?” 

“Howard mentioned they might be after me.. Because I’m… enhanced. I was going to work today but…” Steve’s faces pinches, his eyes sad as he looks around at the diner, “I’m going to uh… take off for awhile.” 

“Steve! What? No! You can’t do that!” 

“I have to. Just til Tony figures out what he needs to do for his dad and Bucky. I can’t be bringing down whatever this organization wants from me onto you, or Wanda.” His eyes shut at the thought, “If they tried to hurt her I’d—“ his voice cracks and he clenches his jaw. “I’m telling her tonight, and I’m sorry about leaving you in a lurch.” 

“I get wanting to protect Wanda but you’ve barely been home for a month! You can’t leave now! You deserve—“

“Sam, stop! You said yourself that there were people searching for me right? You told me that yourself. Well, that means eventually that would lead them to you guys and I can’t— I’ll be fine. Just… keep an eye on Wanda if you can, will you?” Sam nods numbly and Steve looks grateful. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.” 

Angie comes up behind Sam as Steve exits through the back doors. “When does he get to catch a break?” 

“I’ve been asking that question since I met him.” Sam says flatly. 

——————-

He’s relieved when Maggie isn’t still in his apartment when he returns. He had offered for her to stay but that was before seeing Howard’s video. He didn’t want her getting hurt or mixed up with him either. He texts Tony:

S: Listen, I think your dad is right, I’m going to lay low for a while, I don’t want them coming after me or anyone I know. You good at your house?

T: yeah, I upped the security the other day, and I’m not the one with the super powers so..

Steve chuckles dryly at the response.

S: Anything I can do to help so far?

T: Nope, still going through the files and decrypting others. Hacking into the Shield database as well. I’m comparing notes between what Serum you were given and what Barnes was given. They’re not the same, but the effects were close. 

S: Let me know what you find. 

T: Where you gunna go? You could stay here.

S: The point is to lead trouble away from those I care about. Not towards it. I appreciate the offer but I’ve got a few places I can go. Also, I’m going to dump this phone. And pick up a new one. I know it sounds paranoid, but better safe than sorry. I have your number memorized so I’ll text you when I get a new phone. 

T: Okay. Stay safe, old man.

S: Will do, kid.

He begins packing in earnest. 

————-

Steve sits at the diner. He texted Wanda to meet him here and then left his phone at his apartment, everything all locked up. 

A bag of things Wanda might want or need from her room is at his feet, along with his small bag. 

The bell dings and he looks up, a brunette walks in and he stiffens. She searches and finds him, her eyes lighting up, “Steve!” She says joyfully, waving. “I’m so glad I found you here!”

“Hey, Maggie. You were looking for me?” 

“Yes, I tried calling—“

“Oh, I- uh, left my phone in my apartment a while ago, sorry.” 

Peggy looks at him, studying his face, and he tries not to appear anxious. She slides into the booth across from him and reaches her hands out to settle over his. He stares at them wide-eyed and she smiles. “I was hoping we could have dinner, tonight.” She says softly, “my treat?” 

His chest twinges, “Oh, I’d love to b—“

“Great!” She exclaims, “Do you want dinner out or in?

“No, Maggie, I can’t. I’d love to but I can’t.” Her face falls in disappointment. 

“Oh, okay.” She smiles again, “What about tomorrow?” 

“No, I-I’m going out of town for a while, so maybe I’ll call you when I get back?” 

Peggy’s eyes look at him questioningly, something he can’t read flashing across them. “How long will you be gone?” 

“I’m not sure just yet, I hope not too long.” 

“You hope as in you don’t know? What kind of trip is—“ The bell dings again and Wanda steps through, spotting them and smiling. 

“Hey, Steve, hey, Maggie!”

“Hello, Wanda.” Peggy says with a smile, but her eyes are still on Steve. 

Wanda squishes in next to Steve and looks up expectantly, “What’s up?” 

Steve glances at Maggie, “hey you mind giving us a minute?” 

Peggy startles, “oh! Of course, sorry, sorry.” She extricates herself from the booth and walks to the counter. Angie comes up to greet her, pouring her a cup of coffee. 

“On the house,” Angie says absentmindedly as she watches Steve and Wanda. 

———

“I gotta be gone for a bit.” Steve says quietly, looking at his hands resting on the table. 

Wanda stiffens, turning her body towards him. “What do you mean? Be gone? To where? For how long?” 

“I don’t know.” Steve answers honestly, his eyes meeting hers, “I’ve got some… things to take care of, and I don’t want anyone coming here looking for me—”

Wanda’s face turns furious, and she’s whispering harshly, “no, you can’t go! I just got you back!” 

“Wanda, I—“

“Don’t you dare say it’s for my safety! I don’t care! You can protect me better here—“

“I care, Wanda!” He shifts to face her. “They won’t come after you if I’m gone—“ 

“You don’t know that! They could use me as bait.” 

“You’ve been watching too many action movies.” 

“Steve, please” Wanda pleads, her eyes crinkling, “I lost you for three years, I didn't even know if you were ever coming back, and now you’re leaving again?” 

“It’s not the same, I’ll be back sooner.” He shifts, facing his body back towards the table.

“When?”

“I don’t know, but just until we get stuff worked out.” 

“What stuff?” 

Steve grimaces, he looks down at Wanda, she grew up with Bucky too, but telling her he’s alive is more of a risk than telling Sam. She’d go searching. Just like he was planning to do. He stares at the table again. 

“It’s complicated, but if it works out, I swear I’ll tell you everything.” 

“ If?” She reaches out and grabs his shoulder, trying to get him to look at her and he winces as she pulls at his wounds. She recoils. “What?”

“Nothing.” He says quickly. 

“Steve? What was that?” 

“Wanda, it’s nothing! I’m fine!” But her face says she knows he’s lying and she reaches out, quick as a flash to yank down the collar of his shirt. Steve jerks back but it’s too late, the top of one of the gauzes appears and Wanda’s eyes flash. 

‘What is that.”

“It’s nothing.” Steve responds, “can you please just forget it?”

“I have seen you slice open your hand on a butcher’s knife and you didn’t bandage that.” He grimaces, she has a good memory. “You better tell me what it is before I start imagining the worst—“

“Wanda!” She ignores his annoyance and reaches again, trying to reach for his shirt, but he grabs her wrists, holding her back. “Stop! You’re acting like a child!”

“I am a child, Steve! And I’m worried about my older brother, so tell me what the hell is going on!” 

“I got shot, okay? But I’m fine. ” 

“What! When? Where!”

“I can’t go into that right now. I’m fine. Sam got the bullets out, it’s probably almost done healing by now.”

“Bullets?? As in plural?” Her voice is reaching an octave too high.

“Keep it down! Let’s not announce it to the world.” 

“You can’t leave.” Wanda says flatly, pointing at him with a threatening finger, “You can’t go out there all alone if you have someone after you!” 

“I can take care of myself, you know that better than anyone.” 

Wanda’s face falls, “you’re really going to leave?” 

His face matches hers, “I have to. I need to keep you guys safe, and having a target on my back around you guys is not an option.” Her arms snake around his torso and he hugs her back, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I need you to stay safe, okay?” 

She’s nodding against his chest as he rests his chin on top of her head. He catches Angie’s eyes which are misty and he has to swallow hard. He’s about to pull back when the door dings and a furious Tony storms in. 

“Steve!” He shouts, “Steve, are you here?” 

Steve catches his attention, “I’m here, what’s happened?” 

Tony’s storming through, eyes locked on Steve, “you won’t believe it! My dad was right! Shield has bee—“ his eyes flick up and catch sight of Peggy. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare, “YOU! You lying snake!” He points at Peggy who recoils as if slapped. 

Steve’s on his feet, Wanda next to him, his hand reaching Tony’s shoulder. “Tony, Tony! What is going on?” 

Tony whips to face him. “You know how my dad said Shield was dirty? Well he was right. They’re already after you!” He stabs a finger at Peggy, his eyes blazing. “She’s one of Shield’s top agents! Hacked Shield’s files and her face was on top. I tried calling you but you’d already left your phone.” 

————-

Steve’s face is stricken, he’s staring at Peggy, but Wanda’s surging forward, and Steve grabs her, holding her back. 

“Are you the one who shot him?!” Wanda shrieks, raging against Steve’s grip.

“W-what!?” Peggy stutters, “No, No! Of course not! Steve, I—“

“The night we met, you planned that?” 

She nods, “yes, Steve, but—“

“And the guy?” 

To hell with it . “He works for Shield to—“

“And you’ve been what! Trying to get information from me all this time? Why didn’t you just bring me in? You had plenty of chances!” 

“We’re not after you,” she starts, her voice frantic, “we’re after Barnes!” 

She doesn't realize till it’s too late that that’s the wrong thing to say. Wanda’s gasping staring at Steve, who’s look of anger is something she’s never seen before today and it’s too much, 

“You knew?” He rasps out, his voice deepening, “you knew he was alive and you lied to my face?! I told you, and you sat there, pretending you didn’t know a damn thing! You let me think he was dead! ” 

“Bucky’s not dead?” Steve’s eyes snap to Wanda who has tears now streaming out of her eyes. She looks up from Wanda to Steve, who’s look of utter betrayal on his face has her heart breaking. This is exactly what she told Clint wouldn’t bother her. What a lie. 

“I just found out,” his voice cracks and he’s pulling her closer, wrapping his arms protectively around her and angling her away from Peggy, “I just saw him last night—“ His emotions rage again, “Oh my— You KNEW! I sat on my couch rambling about having seen my friend and you KNEW !” He’s shouting, “you knew I’d been shot by him and you just sat there!” 

Wanda’s voice is muffled, “Bucky shot you?” 

The groan from Steve is anguished, “Wanda, I swear I will explain everything, just I need you out of here! Sam, will you take her?” 

“No! Steve, I’m staying right here!” 

“No, you’re going home, I need you safe and away—“ he cuts off, glaring at Peggy, “Does Shield know where she lives?” 

Peggy’s head shake is earnest, “No, no we don’t have her last name.” 

Even through Steve’s fury, he nods and guides Wanda to Sam who half drags her out as she protests. 

Once the door is closed, Steve stays a good distance away. “Who are you really?” 

Tony steps forward, slapping a paper down, “I can tell you that.” He snaps, “Agent Margaret “Peggy” Carter. Works for Shield, head of investi—“ 

Steve cuts Tony off, his voice, brittle and furious, slices the air. “Carter?” His eyes searing into her.

Her throat closes, and she just stares, she can’t think of anything to say.

“Like Michael Carter?” 

She nods, her eyes on his. He seethes, his eyebrows furrowed in anger. “Who was she? Lily?” 

“Private Lorraine Semple.” Peggy blurts out.

His face turns furious and he grabs his temples, “You used your own brother’s death to get information out of me? That’s despicable!” She’s trying to protest, taking a step forward but halts at Tony’s glare, Steve is still talking out loud, “I should have known.” He laughs, his voice flat, “I should have known. I’m such an idiot! Why else would you press our friendship. You let another agent use your brother’s death to try to seduce information out of me! I can’t even process how wrong that is!” Tony’s head snaps up at that, his face in shocked confusion. 

“No,” Peggy chokes, “You don’t understand, she did that without asking! I would never have—“ 

“But you did.” He snaps “You let her lie. I saw you in between, you could have told me the truth! Not that you even know what the truth is.” His words slice her to ribbons and she feels her chest tighten. He’s right. She should of. And she hates herself for not saying something. 

Her voice is wobbly as she speaks, “Please, Steve, this wasn’t supposed to happ—“

“I’m sure it wasn’t!” He barks out a laugh, “no one ever wants to be caught red-handed—“ his eyes go wide. “The man… at the gym last night.” He glares at Peggy, “Shield?” She nods and he scoffs. “What the HELL.” 

“ Steve, please! Let me explain!” 

He grabs Tony’s shoulder and pulls him back. He points to the door forcefully.  “Get out. Tell Shield to stay away. If the guy last night was Shield then ask him. He knows what I can do. I won’t hesitate to take down anyone in my way.” His stare is terrifying, she feels fear run up her spine at his intensity. His hulking form and Clint’s description of what he can do runs through her mind, but she can’t let it end like this. 

“Steve, I can explain, you have to listen—“ 

“I don’t have to listen to anything! ” He snaps, “so far everything you’ve told me has been a lie! Why should I believe anything you have to say! Do you work for Shield?” 

Her heart rate is elevated, “yes, but—“

“Does Shield want to capture Bucky?” 

“ Yes, but— “

“Get OUT!” 

“Please! We—“ 

“Stay away from us.” 

She’s desperate and terrified and never felt so helpless before except…

“London.” She croaks out. “You saved me. I was drunk. After Michael’s funeral. I got drunk. Too drunk.” She’s rambling and tripping over her words, “A man, he tried to attack me, you decked him, then you called me a cab and you left. You saved me, Steve you saved me that night.” 

Tony’s mouth is gaped open but her eyes are on Steve. Whose eyes are a million miles away, remembering that night. When he snaps too his eyes are sad and his nose is crinkled in anger and disgust. She hears Steve say something, something that has Tony gasping and staring at Steve in shock. She watches Steve drag Tony out the door, and she numbly walks to the counter, picking up her bag and ignoring the daggers from Angie. 

It’s only as she steps out of the diner, into the rain that his words really hit her. She clutches at her arms, tears and rain mixing on her face as she walks blindly away. 

“A lot of good it did either of us. ”

———————

Chapter Text

Peggy allows herself 5 minutes of moping before she’s angrily scrubbing at her eyes and pulling out her phone. She hails a cab and waits as it pulls to a stop in front of her. 

“Clint?” She says, as he answers her call. 

“ Yeah?”

“My cover is blown. What you said was going to happen, happened.” She hears his sigh and begins telling him the whole story. 

————-

Steve and Tony approach Tony’s house with caution. They slip in through the back gate and are about to enter the house when a man drops from the limb of a tree and lands in front of them. 

Steve pushes Tony back and slides the pocket knife out of his pants pocket, going into a defensive stance. The man holds up his arms in surrender. 

“Woah there, soldier.” The man says, and instantly Steve recognizes him.

“You’re the guy. The yelling one from the hallway.” 

The man nods his head. “Yep, that’s me. Name’s Clint. You know I work with Shield and we know you’re more than meets the eye.” 

Steve’s about to protest but the guy goes “Nuu-uh-uh. No denying. I saw it last night with my own two eyes. That was me being a creep in the gym.” 

Steve takes a second to process that. He leans back, his defensive stance not relaxing. “You’re fast, and agile, I’ll give you that.” 

Clint chuckles and brushes off his shoulders, “and I'm a pretty good shot too. And don’t worry that’s not a threat. I’m not here to take you in or anything.” 

“Why are you here?” Tony snaps, still slightly angled behind Steve. 

“Because neither Peggy nor I want to see you guys hurt. Because I’ve been searching for your dad and I’ll believe you if you say Barnes isn’t the bad guy.” 

This admittance pulls Steve up short. “You would?” 

He leans, his back against the trunk of the tree, “yeah I would. I’ve been trying to get my commander to see that for the past month or more. Why would a decorated war sergeant just flip on his country like that? I may not know the whole story, but I know there’s more to it than I know. I’m willing to listen.” 

Tony huffs, eyeing the backyard. “How’d you even get in here? I have some of the best security.”

“Like the Captain said, I’m agile.” His grin is easy going and for some reason Steve finds himself believing the guy.

“What exactly do you know about me,” Steve asks, his eyebrow raised. 

Clint rolls his eyes. “You’d be surprised how little actually. We didn’t do much digging before we contacted you. We thought you were gunna be this shrimp of a human, turns out that was outdated information. And when we finally learned your last name, and your military paperwork showed up with more redacted lines than readable ones, we knew we were in uncharted territory.” His voice drops. “Only me and Peggy know about your special skills… We haven’t shared that with our superiors. And we don’t plan to.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because Tony’s right. Someone or some parts of Shield are dirty, we just found out about a guy named Zola who has been secretly funneling info to a terrorist organization. I don’t want you on their capture list.” 

Tony and Steve glance at each other. That’s the name Howard had mentioned. 

“So you’ll help us?” Tony asks, stepping out in front of Steve. “Because I have documents that prove Barnes isn’t at fault for his actions.”

Clint’s eyes widen, “Hell, I want the truth. I want the bad guys stopped. I’m not going to sit by and let the wrong guy get blamed.” 

His sincerity and his steady heartbeat has Steve relaxing fully, trusting him. “Okay, let’s get to work.” 

————

Peggy stops at the office. She pulls Phillips aside and even though he hasn’t been a perfect boss, she trusts that he’s not corrupt. She informs him of everything that has happened (only leaving out Clint’s tales of Steve’s abilities) and informs him that they most definitely have moles for Hydra in Shield, starting with Zola. 

He listens with intensity and when she finishes, he takes a good long look at her. “So what do we do about Barnes?” 

She sighs, it all comes back to him. She’s about to answer when Clint’s name pops up on her phone. She answers. 

Phillips stares at her as she listens with widening eyes. “Okay, yes. I will. Bye.” 

She turns towards his office door, shutting it. “Let’s talk about Barnes. Check your email.” 

————-

After the next 24 hours of going through every single document Howard had sent Tony that they had forwarded to Phillips, watching and rewatching the video he’d sent and analyzing every piece of data on their own, Phillips sits back in his chair and frowns. Clint looks at him, a hopeful gleam to his eye. 

“I hate when you’re right, Barton. You’re always a little shit about it.” 

Clint laughs, saluting and hopping off the chair, “thank you, sir.” 

He’s out the door and gone before Phillips can stop him. Phillips side eyes Peggy who hasn’t moved. “And what do you have to say about this?” 

“Nothing.” 

“How are we going to contact Stark and Barnes?” 

“I believe they are hoping that Barnes will reappear again and they can follow him to Stark.” 

“That’s a big if.” 

“It’s all we have at the moment. Howard Stark was very careful about not having any tracers on the drive in case it fell into the wrong hands.” 

“Let’s hope those wrong hands don’t get a hold of them before we do.” 

“Quite.” Peggy says, her lips pursing. 

“Aren’t you going to go celebrate with your little boyfriend that his best friend won’t be tried for treason?” 

She ‘hmms’ and stands to leave. She hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about the explosiveness of Steve discovering her identity. 

His eyes follow her as she exits, grabbing her coat and heading for the door. 

—————-

“That easy?” Tony balks, as Clint stands there grinning like a cheshire cat. 

“That easy. Phillips has a real tough spine, but he’s one of the good ones. Once he saw the files your dad sent, he was on board. He’s tracking Zola and any connections he might have in Shield to rid it of snakes. Now they’re waiting on us to get contact from your dad so we can pull them out of whatever hole they're hiding in, and get them cleared, and safe.” 

Tony looks at Steve in disbelief. ‘Wow.” 

Steve huffs, “yeah, wow.” He looks up at Clint and nods, “thank you.” 

“Hey, if my buddy or anyone I knew went through what those files said your buddy did? I’d do anything I could to clear his name too.” 

Tony side eyes Steve who looks at the floor. So far he’d honored Bucky’s wishes and hadn’t looked at them, but he knew enough. “Yeah.” 

“When you get contact with either Howard or Barnes, you let us know, whatever we can do to help. Getting our hands on Hydra is now top priority, and we have your dad,” he looks at Tony, “and your friend,” he points at Steve, “to thank for that. We may not have known they were in our ranks without them.”

Steve stands up, “can I borrow your phone, Tony? Mine’s still in my apartment.” 

Tony nods, throwing something slim and shiny Steve’s way, he catches it and looks at it strangely. “What the hell type of phone is this?”

“Geez you really are a grandpa.” Tony says snappily. He snatches his phone back, opening it and asking, “call or text? Or google?”

“Call.” 

“Gotcha.” He swipes through, bringing up the number pad and handing it back to Steve, who takes it and dials, holding it to his ear. 

“Wanda?” 

He winces, an angry voice on the other side. He listens for a few minutes until the angry voice subsides. When it stops he smiles, “anything else?” 

The voice speaks again and they watch as Steve grins widely. “Yeah, lil’ sis. I love you too. Just so you know, I shouldn’t be gone for too long. A few things worked out quicker than expected— yeah I’m with Tony. No. No I’ll be oka—“ they watch as his face darkens and he turns his back to them. He speaks quietly but they can still hear him. “No, I haven’t seen her— I hope not—— Yeah, trust me, I know—— I didn’t know either—— Wanda, I’m fine. I promise, nothing new there——” he winces as the voice is sharp out of the phone. “I didn’t mean it that wa—“ another cringe, “old habits die hard—— No, I don’t care what you and Sam think actually—“ He sighs. “Okay, but I gotta go. I’ll call you soon. Love you too, bye.” 

He hands Tony his phone back and Clint clears his throat, getting their attention. 

“I, uh— couldn’t help but overhear… You know, Peggy is really a great—“

“Stop.” Steve commands. “I don’t care.” 

Clint looks like he wants to protest, but he just sighs and leans back. “Whatever you say, Cap.” 

“You don’t have to call me that. I wasn’t your Captain.” 

“Eh, it has a nice ring to it.  Also…You’re really only 24?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Just that’s so young for a Captain.” 

Steve’s face goes flat and his voice is dry with sarcasm when he speaks. “It’s not like I’m the most normal of soldiers, Agent Barton.” 

“Touché, Cap. Touché.” 

——————

Peggy walks to her fake apartment to gather her few belongings for what she hopes is the last time. She’s just crested the stairs when the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She freezes, poking her head around the corner only to yank it back. She calms her breath, and barely peeks around the corner with just her eyes. 

Four figures, dressed like Pest Control workers, are hauling a large canvas bag out of Steve’s apartment. A bag large enough to carry a body. She’s deciding whether to call for backup or just charge at them when she watches Zola step out of the apartment, his round glasses reflecting the fluorescents. 

She pulls out her gun and rounds the corner. 

“Put your bloody hands up, you little snake.” She shouts, getting his attention. 

He looks at her, and instead of looking scared, he smiles. “Tell your monster of a boyfriend that Barnes,” he pats the canvas bag, “is safe with us, and that we’ll be coming to collect him next.” 

Peggy shoots, but misses as the man ducks and throws something her way. A grenade lands at her feet and she doesn’t think before kicking it and throwing herself down the stairwell to put as much distance between her and the grenade as she can.

The last thing she remembers is heat and wood splintering all around her. 

——————-

Chapter Text

Clint’s phone rings. He looks down and his eyebrows crinkle. He answers it. 

“Yeah?” 

Steve’s ears can hear the person on the other end. 

“There was an explosion at Carter’s cover apartment. Head there immediately. Camera’s were tampered with and—“

Steve’s on his feet and running. 

—————

He’s barely paying attention to his speed, blurring past people way faster than he should be. But the thought of his home up in flames or Wanda… Please don’t let Wanda have been there.  

He’s there in minutes and he can hear the flames from outside. Some of the windows have blown their glass and people are rushing out to the street. Alarms are ringing and he dashes inside. 

He’s up halfway to his floor when he sees an older lady struggling down the stairs. He throws a glance up the next flight of steps but takes a deep breath. ‘Ma’am, can I help you?” 

She nods weakly and he grabs hold under her arms and carries her down the steps to the outside. 

He rushes back in and is almost to his floor when he hits the debris. Chunks of wood and concrete are littered everywhere and something he can’t see is burning because the smoke and heat is intense. He’s racing up the last step when a heartbeat thuds slowly. He falters to a stop and looks around. A lump, partially hidden by a chunk of wall that has collapsed, draws his eye. He strides over, easily moving the hunk of debris. 

“Oh geez.” He breathes at the sight of a bloody and grime covered Peggy lying unconscious. He hauls her up, gently avoiding moving her head or neck too much. He’s about to walk back down when he hears the softest wheeze of a breath. His neck cracks as he whips his face back towards his apartment. 

His body moves faster than his brain. He shifts Peggy so she’s cradled in his left arm. He bounds up the stairs and reels back at the thick smoke billowing out of the hallway. He closes his eyes, using his ears and his sense of the building to guide him to his door. The heat begins to sear at his skin but he ignores it. Only when Peggy groans does he realize it’s searing her too. He steps back, setting her farther down the hallway before racing to his apartment. He steps through the already open doorway and uses his hands to guide him along the entryway. He can hear a heartbeat, slowing down, sluggish. 

“Where are you?” He calls, then chokes on the thick smoke. There’s no answer. He follows the heartbeat, the roaring flames making it difficult, but he blocks out everything else. His hand hits something soft, a shoulder. He finally opens his eyes and through the dark haze he makes out red hair, Natasha. She’s sitting at his table which confuses him, but he ignores that, reaching down to haul her up when the chair comes with her. 

He squints, confused, reaching down again to pull her out of the chair when his hands feel ropes. His heart rate races as he realizes she’s tied down. 

His hands work quickly, ripping the ropes to release her. He finds the bonds at her feet too and tries to ignore the burning in his eyes and nose and throat. “Natasha, Natasha can you hear me?” She doesn’t answer. 

He pulls her free and drapes her over his shoulder. He’s out his door in seconds and back into the hallway collecting Peggy. 

He carries them both down carefully, but with as much speed as he feels like is safe. 

Bursting out the door to the fresh air has his lungs burning in relief and his eyes watering. Hands are grabbing the girls and he clings tighter, not wanting to let them go, but the medical uniforms assure him that ‘they’ll take it from here’ and he relents. Two gurneys appear and the girls are set on them. 

He then glances back up to his apartment. The only place in the world that still has a physical picture of his mom. He takes a deep breath and covers his nose with his shirt, ignoring the screaming protests as he runs back inside and up the stairs. 

—————

Tony and Clint burst out of the car doors, watching in awe as the firetrucks and ambulances block off the street and work to ensure everyone’s safety. 

Clint flashes his Shield badge and they climb through the tape that’s just being set up by the police. He recognizes a face and runs over. “Peggy! Oh my— Peggy! Geez, Pegs, can you hear me?” Her eyes flutter and he watches as she slowly raises her eyes to his. “Blink once if you’re okay.” 

She does, slowly. 

“Where’s Steve?” Tony snaps at her. She winces, but her eyes travel to the building that currently has flames billowing out the windows. Tony follows her eyesight and sucks in a gasp of air. “No—“ 

“What happened, Peg?” Clint asks, “Who did this?” 

She tries to make a sound with her throat but her grimace cuts it off. 

“Sir?” The EMT says, “please don’t try to get her to talk, her throat is severely damaged from smoke inhalation.” 

“Oh, right.” Clint apologizes, “sorry, sorry.” 

But Peggy’s eyes widen, she waves her hand weakly, trying to remove the oxygen mask, only to have her hands grabbed by the EMT to stop her. 

“Why would Steve go back in there!” Tony asks, striding closer to the building, “I don’t care that he heals fa—“ he cuts himself off, “this is insanity!” He’s tugging at his hair when a new explosion rocks the street. Billowing flames explode from the windows and people are screaming and running once again to escape the falling debris. 

Tony and Clint stare up at the building wide-eyed. “We have to go in there for him.” Tony rasps. 

“We can’t, you’ll just end up getting killed too.” Clint says desperately, his voice low. 

“He’s not dead!” Tony shouts, his voice raising.” 

“I’m not saying he is.” Clint speaks slowly, trying to calm the teenager, “but you will be.” Clint points at Tony’s chest, “your heart can’t take that much smoke.” 

Tony growls in frustration, ripping at his hair and staring at the columns of black smoke rising to the sky. 

————

A few minutes earlier

Steve tears through his apartment, ignoring the way his skin simmers and steams in the heat. The pain is excruciating, but he sets his mind on the goal and won’t be distracted. 

He opens the closet door, hissing as the metal scalds the skin of his palm. He reaches down, grabbing the safe and hauling it out. He sets it down quickly before running to his room. He rips a few frames off the walls and the few on the nightstand. He only allows one brief glance at his canvases. Most of them melted already. He tears his eyes away from the dripping acrylic and plastic and runs back to the main room. 

The safe is in his hands when he hears a beep. And then another and another. His brain, filled with smoke and sluggish looks up to see a red light barely visible above the door. He doesn’t have time to think before the explosion blows him backwards. Only the briefest moments of clarity has him clutching the safe and the frames against his chest as he smashes through the glass of his balcony door, hits the railing and tumbles over. 

—————-

Clint watches over as they begin to load Peggy into the back of the ambulance. It takes her a second to realize what’s happening, but when she does she groans, moving her hand as best she can, staring at him, her eyes desperate. 

“Peggy?” He asks, “What is it, what’s wrong?” The EMT starts to protest but Peggy turns her eyes to the lady and glares, a strong enough glare to shut her up. She motions to her oxygen mask, and Clint pulls it down gently. “What is it?” 

Her voice is barely a croak. “—arnes. They ‘ave Barnes.” 

She swallows and her whole face turns white from the effort. Clint’s being pushed back as they swing the doors closed behind them and the ambulance drives away, leaving a wide-eyed Clint in its wake. 

———

“Someone reported a body falling out of a window on the backside of the building.” The policeman speaks to the firefighter, do we have eyes back there?” 

Tony’s head whips up at the conversation. 

“No,” the firefighter says, “it’s too tight of an alley to get a truck back there. Well send the first available personnel.” 

Tony takes off, dragging Clint with him.

————

They race around the side, sliding to a stop, and searching the area. When Steve isn’t immediately visible, Clint looks up, his voice catching in his throat. 

“Oh—“ his breath leaves in a whoosh at the sight. Steve’s body hangs half off a fire escape platform, his head and arms hanging down towards the alley pavement and his legs caught in the metal railing. Even from two stories below Clint can see the severe burns and gashes across his face and body. 

He doesn’t think before he leaps, holding onto the lowest firescape and scrambling up. His motions cause Tony to look up and see Steve. A string of curses leave his mouth and he moves to follow Clint. 

“No!” The man shouts, “stay down there. I’ll bring him down, but I need you down there to help lower his body to the ground.” Tony grumbles but listens. 

Clint reaches Steve in seconds, sucking in a breath of air at the closer sight. Steve is covered in thick black soot from the smoke, burns cover most of his visible skin, and the cuts on his back are still fresh and bleeding. Clint grabs Steve’s upper body and hauls him back onto the flat platform. Once he has him situated, he tries to decide the least harmful way to carry the kid. But truthfully, he looks so burnt and beat up there isn’t a safe way, so he hauls him up in a fireman’s carry and starts to scale carefully back down. As heavy as Steve is, Clint ignores the groans from his shoulders, he has to get him down. 

He let’s Tony help get him down the last section of ladder and Tony’s about to lay him onto the asphalt, when Clint stops him, “His back, it’s cut open, he shouldn’t be on the ground.” 

“The serum won’t let him get an infection.” Tony says, not looking at Clint as he pulls out his phone and does something Clint doesn’t understand. Waving it over Steve’s face and chest. Tony stares at his screen, until something pops up and he sighs in relief. 

“What?” Clint asks impatiently, “what is it?” 

“His heart is okay, beating fine. Which is good. If it’s able to pump the serum through his veins then he’ll heal.” Then his face turns sour, “look at him, he’s a mess! What the hell was he thinking running into that building?” 

Clint doesn’t have an answer. 

—————

The car they’d ridden to get to Steve’s pulls into the alley shortly after. The driver steps out, motioning Tony to hurry. They haul Steve’s body into the car and Clint’s walking around to get in on the other side when he hears a crack under his boot. He looks down to see shattered glass and a photo underneath it. He peers closer and recognizes a picture of young Steve and who Clint can only assume is his mom. His head snaps up to Tony, catching his eyes, “hold on.” Clint carefully picks up the photo, hands it to Tony, and begins scouring the area. He finds more shattered frames, one more whole photo, and a few others. that are partially burnt. But when he sees a small black safe, crushed in on one side with scorch marks on the handle and keypad, he knows it’s Steve’s. 

He grabs it, and hauls it to the trunk of the car, tossing it in. “I don’t know what’s in it,” Clint says quietly, “but it must be important if he went back for it.” Tony nods and tells the driver to take them to his house. 

————-

Steve blinks awake, his eyes feel like sandpaper and his throat feels like someone shoved shards of glass down it. 

“Hey there, Cap.” A quiet voice says. “You with us?” Steve rolls his head to the side, seeing Clint looking at him and Tony, fast asleep, head tucked against his chest. He nods his head slightly, wincing at the pull of burnt skin. “Oof, yeah, careful. You’re burnt practically everywhere. You’ve healed some, but it’s still pretty raw.” Steve doesn’t have the strength to answer, just blinks in acknowledgment. 

—————-

He wakes up again, unsure of how much time has passed, but he already feels significantly better. He shifts, trying to sit himself up more. His skin protests, but it’s minor and he manages to get upright. He looks around and recognizes Tony’s room. He grimaces at the blood and smoke and general gross debris on Tony’s sheets from him laying there. 

A glass of water is by the bed and he reaches for it, draining it quickly. His back aches, but he can feel the skin healing so he doesn't worry too much. Sunlight is fading in the windows and he wonders if it’s still the same day. Clint isn’t anywhere to be seen, so he slowly and stiffly tries to swing his legs over the bed. 

“Woah!” A voice calls, and Steve pulls back in surprise as Tony pops up from where he was laying in the ground. “Where you going, Steve?” 

“Everyone okay?” He rasps back. 

“Uh, yeah. So far that I’ve heard.” 

“I need to get back to the alley.” 

“Why?” 

“I left something.” 

“Oh, you mean the beat up safe? We got that. And some pictures too, but uh, not all in great condition.” 

Steve winces but nods in appreciation, “thanks.” 

“No problem. Uh. Clint wanted to tell you something. He’ll be back soon. You should rest until then. I’ll go get you some more water.” 

—————

It’s nightfall when he awakens again. Clint is sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his phone. 

“Clint?” He croaks, “what is it?” 

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to bolt from the bed. You still need to heal before you go running off…” 

A pit settles in Steve’s stomach. “What is it?” 

“Promise?”

“No.” Steve says sharply, “what is it, is it Natasha? Is she okay?” 

“Natasha?” Clint asks confused, “the red-head girl? Wanda’s friend? Wha— why wouldn’t she be okay?” 

“She was tied up in my apartment when I got to the building.” 

Clint reels back in surprise, “oh, oh geez.” He stands up, running a hand through his hair, “No I think she’s fine. I didn't know. But so far no casualties have been reported.” 

Steve’s voice cracks under the strain but he asks, “what is it then?” 

“Peggy, when I saw her after, she— she said ‘Barnes. They have Barnes.’” 

Adrenaline jolts through his body and he shoots up, ignoring the protest of his skin. He feels the dry burnt sections of his skin crack and begin to bleed, but he doesn't care. He’s looking for his shoes and his brain running a million miles a minute before he feels someone grabbing him. 

“No. Steve, this is exactly what you can’t do. Steve, Steve STOP. Tony!” Steve shoves the man away, and he bolts out of the door barefooted. 

He can hear Clint yelling something, but he’s not listening. 

Tony slides to a stop in front of him, just a ways down the hallway, blocking his exit. 

“Steve, where are you going?” 

“They have Bucky.” He rasps, “I have to go after him.” 

“Okay.” Tony agrees, speaking slowly. “We will. We absolutely will. But what’s your plan. You gunna run all over Brooklyn? All over New York City? You know where you’re going? I’m already hooked up to the police scanners at your apartment. If they find any evidence that will give us clues of where to look then I’ll tell you immediately. But what’s your plan right now?”

Steve feels his energy sag. The serum to busy focusing on healing the burns and cuts and now new cracks in his skin. “I need to find him.” 

“We will.” 

“Your dad.” 

Tony grimaces, “yeah… he’s probably freaking out right about now. But I can’t worry about that just yet. We’ll find both of them.” 

Steve nods and let’s Tony lead him back to his room. 

—————

Tony works furiously on his computer. Hacking security cameras across the city and mapping any possible place where they may have taken Barnes or where his dad might be hiding. Steve sleeps again, eats and then sleeps. Only the next afternoon does he feel close to normal again. 

“Where are we at? They’ve already had him for too long, and you won’t tell me about the Winter Soldier program. Is that long enough to have…. Hurt him?” Tony’s wince tells him the answer. He groans and scrubs at his face. “What do you have, I’ll take anything.” 

“It’s hard to know. I’m thinking we have to ask the source.” 

“Source?” 

“Yeah… the one who told us about Barnes being taken.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yep.” 

“Okay, I’ll go ask.” 

“You will?” 

“Yeah Tony. No matter how I feel about her actions, I’m not going to let that stop me from finding Bucky. And while I’m there I can check up on Natasha too.” 

“Okay. Call me if you need me.” 

“Will do.” 

————-

He checks on Natasha first. She’s awake but groggy. She’d been trying to move and talk and that had been causing problems so they’d sedated her for a while to make sure her body could heal. 

“Tasha, it’s Steve. How do you feel?”

“Steve?” She whispers back, “you’re really here?” 

“Yeah, Natasha, I am.” 

“Saved me?” 

Steve grimaces, “more like I put you in danger. How did you get tied up in my apartment?” 

“Wanda wanted something… I went to grab it for her. Spare key.” 

He nods, “who tied you up?” 

“Gray guys.” 

“Huh?” 

She blinks slowly, her body fighting against the remaining sedative. “Gray guys.” 

“Okay. You rest now. I’ll come back and visit soon, okay?” 

Natasha doesn’t answer, she’s already asleep. 

———

Peggy hears a soft knock. “Come in” she says as strongly as she can, it still comes out as a rasp.

The door pushes inward and she feels her eyes widen in surprise at Steve’s appearance. He looks at her calmly, no expression on his face. But that’s not what she notices first. The burns, cuts, and singed skin, all in different stages of healing catch her eye. 

“You okay?” She asks, her eyes lingering on his hands which seem to have the worst burns. 

“I’m fine.” He says flatly. “I don’t mean to bother you, but Clint said you were the one who told him that Bucky was taken. Is there anything else you can tell me about that?” 

His coldness to her aches worse than her raw throat, but she doesn’t let that get in the way. She knows that her actions have consequences and she’ll accept them. She takes a sip of water and swallows heavily, trying to clear her throat well enough to speak clearly. Every word stings but she doesn’t stop until she gets all the information out.

“Zola was there. He’s the one who threw the grenade at me. The other men were  dressed in gray jumpsuits, disguised as pest control men. While I never saw Barnes with my own eyes, Zola said ‘Barnes is safe with us and that they would be coming to collect you next’ before gesturing to a brown canvas bag that was large enough to hold your friend and looked heavy.” She winces at the end of her words. Her throat protesting. “That’s the last thing I remember.” 

Steve’s jaw is tight, but he nods. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.” 

He turns to leave and she sits up, her dry skin stinging. “Steve.” His head angles back to her, his body still facing the door. “You were right. When she pretended to be me, I should have said something... For that I’m truly sorry. Michael would be furious at me as well… I just wanted you to know. I am sorry.” 

Steve’s shoulders are tense, but he looks at her, meeting her gaze. “Thank you for your apology.” 

He’s gone in an instant and she doesn’t miss the fact that he didn’t forgive her. 

——————

They’re scanning cameras for a pest control van or vehicle now. Tony’s programming his AI to work on facial recognition of Zola or Bucky. . 

—————

Steve’s on the phone with Sam, updating him and telling him to update Wanda when Tony shouts out in excitement. 

“There!” 

“Sam, I gotta go,” he’s at Tony’s side and watches as a brown van empties out men dressed in gray jumpsuits carrying a large canvas bag, and a short scientist with glasses. 

“They’re down by the wharf, in one of the old factories.” Tony says, triangulating their position, “we can be there in 15 minutes. You wanna call Clint?” 

“Yeah.” Steve says, dialing on Tony’s phone, “we’re gunna want backup.”

————

They arrive at the wharf 17 minutes later. 

Tony and Steve break into the factory next to their target and climb to the roof. Clint joins them shortly after and Tony looks at him in surprise to see a bow at his side and a quiver full of arrows across his back. “Uh, Robin Hood? What’s going on?” 

Clint just smiles. “You’ll see.” 

Tony looks at Steve and frowns, “why is that terrifying, am I the only one terrified that this guy showed up to what will definitely be a gunfight with a bow and arrow?” 

Steve just looks at Clint thoughtfully. “After what I saw at the gym a few nights ago? I’m not going to question it.” 

“What about you, Cap?” Clint asks, “weapon of choice?” 

A frown crosses Steve’s face. “Yeah, I have one. But they wouldn’t let me take it home. Army kept it.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Well, it’s made of some pretty rare material, so I guess they didn’t want it out in civilization.” Steve shrugs, but there is something sad in his eyes. 

“Okay,” Tony says, rubbing his hands together, “what’s the plan?” He looks at Steve and so does Clint. Steve takes a deep breath, letting the familiar feeling of a strategy session wash over him. 

—————

They each take an entrance. Steve tries to convince Tony to stay as a lookout, but the kid refuses. “Search for Bucky. If you see him, don’t engage, contact me and I’ll meet you at their location.” Tony hands Clint their subtle communications clips and Clint looks impressed. 

“Hell, these look better than the ones we get at Shield.”

“Obviously.” Is all Tony says as they climb down to ground level. 

————-

It’s Tony who finds him first. 

Steve’s communicator vibrates and he follows the little holographic map to Tony’s location. He creeps through a huge steel door and hides behind large machines, following the sound of Tony’s unique heartbeat. 

He finds him crouched behind a huge assembly line. “He’s in that industrial freezer.” Tony says quietly, pointing. “I can’t tell if he’s alone.” 

“Okay.” Steve says, “stay here, wait for Clint. I don’t care about taking out the whole organization right now. I just want to get Bucky safe and then we can use him to find your dad.” 

“Steve—“ 

“Yeah?” 

“It may not—“ He huffs, scrubbing at his eyes, “he may not know who you are. If he doesn’t, he may try to hurt you. Just… be careful okay?” 

There’s so many questions he wants to ask, but he doesn’t, now’s not the time. “I’m not leaving him here.” Steve says, “but I promise to be as careful as I can be.” He darts out of the hiding place, sprinting over to the door and grasping the handle, breaking through the lock and handle quickly. He grabs the hinges and rips, yanking the door off but keeping it in front of him. When no bullets come he drops the door and goes inside. 

————-

Tony watches with wide eyes as Steve rips through the door like it’s made of tissue. Steve disappears and he hears a scuffle, then a grunt, and a gunshot. 

Tony’s spine straightens as Steve stumbles backwards out of the freezer, hand clutched at his stomach, blood through his fingers. “Bucky.” He hears Steve call. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. We’ve been friends since we were kids. You know me.” 

A figure, clad in dark clothes, long hair hanging front of his face, strides out of the freezer. Gun in hand, pointed at Steve. “No, I don’t!” He shouts, his face pained. 

“Okay, maybe you don’t right now,” Steve huffs, wincing, “but you still don’t belong here, or in a freezer. Why don’t you come with me and we can get things sorted out.” 

“No.” Barnes responds. “I’m supposed to capture you and bring you in.” 

“Bring me in?” 

“Yes.”

“To who?” 

Bucky grimaces, scrunching his face up. Hands clutching at his head. “Shut up!” 

“No.” Steve says sharply, “I won’t.” He takes a step forward only to have Bucky lower the gun once more and point it as his chest. Steve raises his hands in surrender. “I don’t want to fight you. I want to help you.” 

“Why.” The question is flat and somehow painful. 

“Because. You’re my friend.” 

“I have no friends.” 

Anger flashes across Steve’s face. “Yes, Bucky. You do. Don’t listen to Hydra’s lies. You beat them out of your head once, we can do it again. Howard will help. DO you remember Howard? Mustache? Never shuts up when he gets going? Says stuff that you’ll never fully understand?.” 

There’s a silence before Bucky whispers, “Science man.” Tony feels his eyes widen as Steve chuckles weakly. 

“Yeah, Buck. Howard is the science man. And you know what? He has a science kid. And we need your help to find Howard to bring him home. Help us bring you both home.” 

“Ah, that won’t be happening.” A new voice says. Tony’s eyes snap to the short scientist who has appeared in the back entrance behind Steve. He holds a small gun in his hand. 

“Zola.” Steve hisses. 

“Yes, indeed Captain.” The man steps forward, a sneer on his face. “I’m honored to meet you in person. I’ve only heard of your exploits through the levels of Hydra. You do not realize how much damage you and your team inflicted on our cause. You were the phantom that haunted Hydra. But… You are predictable. We knew you’d come to collect your friend. And now. Here you are. Come to join us.” 

Steve cuffs. “Join you? Hell no.” 

“Well,” the man says with a considering shrug, “it is up to you. Soldier?” Bucky straightens to attention. “Winter’s Night.” Bucky stiffens. His programming taking over. Steve watches in horror as Bucky brings the muzzle of the gun up under his own chin. Steve steps forward only to be reprimanded by Zola. “Ah, ah, ah, Captain. Step further and it may get messy in here.” Steve immediately steps back and Tony sits frozen, watching the exchange. He doesn’t know where Clint is, but he really wishes he’d hurry up. 

“Okay. Okay.” Steve says, his face hard. “What do you want?” 

“Want?” Zola laughs, “Isn’t it obvious? Having one super soldier is great, having a pair? We’d be unstoppable. We’d bring the world to order.” 

“And if I refuse?” 

“Soldier? At the ready.” 

Bucky pulls the hammer back. The click of the gun cocking is deafening. “No-“ Steve chokes out. “Stop. You want him alive. You just said so.” 

“Hmm.” Zola considers this. “Truthfully we want you as a pair. This one is defective. He’s run his course and done what we wanted, but he’s weak compared to you, and not as useful as we’d hoped. I think with you by his side, a natural bond already present, you two would be unstoppable in Hydra’s forces. But, without you he’s expendable. If you refuse, we’ve taken a lot of his blood so we can recreate him if necessary. Sure, keeping him would be easier because he’s already trained, but watching you choose between joining us and watching your best friend die? I am always fascinated by humans and their choices under stress.” 

Tony wants to gag at how clinical the man had just described Barnes’ experience. 

“And if I come with you? You wouldn’t hurt him?” 

Tony’s mouth gapes open. 

“Certainly Captain. If you came willingly, we’d make sure Barnes would be well taken care of. You’d be partners once you were properly conditioned.” 

Steve’s face is anguished as his eyes lock on the gun pointing against his best friend’s throat. “You promise you won’t hurt him?” 

Zola’s face is triumphant and confident, “as long as you behave Captain, Sergeant Barnes will remain unharmed.”

“Okay. I’ll come.” 

“Wonderful. Soldier, stay here. If you hear anything happen to me, you pull the trigger. Understood?” Steve’s eyes are dull as he watches Bucky nod in acknowledgment, his shoulders rigid. 

Zola motions for Steve to move, using his gun as incentive. Steve’s eyes flash to where Tony is hiding, and he almost imperceptibly shakes his head ‘no’. Tony grits his teeth, what the hell is Steve thinking! He can’t just go with them! The door behind Steve and Zola closes and Tony scrambles up, running out into the open where Barnes stands stiffly, 

“Bucky.” Tony says, carefully, “Barnes. Wake up. You have to come back. I know you’re in there!” 

Confusion crosses over the soldier’s face. “I know your heartbeat.” 

“Uh, yeah. Duh.” Tony snaps. ‘You’re the one who shoved me in a van and took my dad away from me almost a year ago. And then my dad helped you escape! So now it’s your turn to help me. WAKE UP.” 

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “You’re not supposed to be here.” 

Tony groans, “yeah, neither are you! And neither is Steve! Huh? Steve? Your best friend? The guy you’ve now shot 3 times in the last week? I know you know who he is. Bonds like that don’t just disappear.” 

Bucky’s eyes furrow and his eyes turn stormy. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” 

Tony steps closer, risking the wrath of the man with the gun, “yes you do! Steve! Hell I’ve only known him for a couple weeks and I already know what a self-sacrificial idiot this guy is! You’re going to let Steve take the hit for you, huh?” Something flashes in Bucky’s eyes and Tony doesn’t miss it. He latches onto that. “Yeah, Steve? The one you just let agree to getting his brain fried to save your life?? You know what they did to you to get you to behave. To get you to forget Steve. I saw the files. I saw the tapes. They recorded it, you know. The chair. Your screams. All of it. You want to hear Steve scream like that? You want Steve to behave for them? You want Steve to forget you?” Tony doesn’t even realize how close he’s gotten, until his last words spill out, their noses barely a foot apart.

But he doesn’t back down. He can see it. The turmoil, the fight happening behind the eyes of the man in front of him. 

“Fight it, Barnes. Fight against the monster they tried to make you into. Don’t let them turn Steve into a monster.” 

The voice is rough and gravely as it snaps at him, “Steve is not a monster.” 

The absolute relief at those words floods through Tony. “You’re right. He’s not. But they’ll try to make him one if we don’t save him from Zola. Are you going to help me or not?” 

The gun slowly lowers, muzzle shifting down until it’s pointing at the floor. 

“I’ll… help.” 

Tony grins. “Good. Let’s go find Clint. We’re going to need all the help we can get.” 

——————

Chapter Text

Tony has to stop a few times to remind Barnes of what’s happening and to reassure him of their plan. He can see the man fighting the programming and erasure of memories, so Tony’s as patient as he can be. Watching the man get his brain fried over and over adds a layer of sympathy to Tony’s motivations that he never would have had if he hadn’t seen what Hydra did to him. 

“Come on, Barnes. It’s for Steve. We have to go save Steve.” 

“He’s an idiot for agreeing.” Barnes growls out, clutching at his head.

“No arguments there, let’s go.” 

Tony’s a little apprehensive that they haven’t run into any other security but he just thanks his lucky stars and keeps pushing Barnes towards the door. 

He finally exits and the sight in front of him makes him freeze. Clint stands there, his bow at his side and his foot on Zola’s unconscious chest. 

“Hey, Stark.” Barton says cheekily. “How’s it going?” 

“Barton what the hell!” Tony glances around, “where’s Steve?” 

“Oh he’s scaling the back wall to go rescue you both.”

Tony hears elevated breathing and turns to see Barnes staring intensely at Zola on the ground. “Barnes,” Tony warns, “don’t do anything stupid. Zola’s the bad guy. Ignore whatever he said.” Tony’s eyes are glued to the gun still in Barnes’ hand. He should have taken that when he had the chance. 

“I won’t.” Barnes rasps, “I hate that guy.” He waves the gun at Zola and Tony sighs out in relief. 

“Okay, good.” He turns back to Clint, “where are all the other guards?” 

Clint looks affronted, “what, you think I was just hanging around outside while you had a verbal sparring with the creepy guy here?” His foot presses down a bit on the scientist’s chest. “Take a look around.” 

Tony does, seeing bodies in various states. Some unconscious, some tied up and gagged and some with an arrow or two protruding from their bodies. 

“Wow.” Tony says, “you really are good with that bow.” 

Clint smirks, and taps his bow against his thigh, “gotta be useful somehow, there’s more around the whole perimeter of the building. They never saw me coming.” 

His communicator beeps and he clicks it. A frantic voice speaks. 

“They’re gone,” Steve’s voice is crystal clear over the speaker, the anxiety in his tone palpable and Tony watches as Barnes leans towards the sound, “Barton do you hear me! They’re already gone! What if Bucky took Tony!?” 

“Steve—“ Clint tries to cut him off. 

“Did Tony install a tracker in his communicator? Geez I don’t know anything about this tech crap!” They can hear him fumbling with his walkie, “Barton can you figure it out? I’m going to try to find a trail or maybe a security camera and try to follow them.” 

“ Steve—“

“I don’t care, Barton! I’m not going to let Tony get hurt because I was an idiot for charging in there!” 

Tony snorts and Clint laughs. Steve falls silent. “Who was that.” 

“That?” Clint says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “oh that’s no one. Just whiz kid billionaire Tony Stark and your best buddy Barnes. We’re out here just chilling, waiting for you.” 

“You’re lying.”

“Steve, why in the hell would I lie to a super soldier who could rip me to shreds?” 

There’s no response, and soon they hear a crashing and the door slams open, a rough looking Steve blasts through and comes to a stop at the sight of them. His voice is deep and raspy as he looks at Bucky and Tony in shock, “how?” 

“Well,” Tony quips, “turns out your self-sacrificing idiocy can help solve brainwashing.

“Steve, what the hell.” Barnes growls, “how could you just agree to this psycho? Do you know what he’s capable of?” 

Steve’s face is a mixture of relief and annoyance, “yeah well some idiot told me not to watch the tapes so, no, I don’t. But I knew I wasn’t going to let it happen to you again.” Steve steps forward, holding his hand out hopefully.

Barnes looks at it, his hand reaching out shakily. “You’re a punk.” 

Steve’s face lights up in a smile, his voice in awe as he says, “and you’re a jerk.” He chuckles as he pulls Barnes into a hug, who stiffens at first and then responds hesitantly. “I’ve missed you. I thought you were dead.” He says with a sigh as they part. 

“I thought you were smaller.” They both laugh and then Bucky gets serious again. “I didn’t even know I missed you, but you must be pretty ingrained because Howard started talking about you and my brain kept telling me it was important. That’s how annoying you are.” 

Steve laughs, beaming like Tony’s never seen him before, “happy to oblige. I promise to annoy you for the rest of your very long and free life.” 

Bucky smiles, his shoulders sagging and suddenly looking very tired. Steve grabs his shoulder, propping him up and looking up at the other two, “we need to call someone to pick up all these…” he looks around, his eyes landing on Zola and hardening. 

“Already ahead of you.” Clint interjects. “Shield, the good ones, are on their way to round up the vagrants. You take Barnes and go.” 

“Speaking of Barnes,” Tony says, his hands rubbing at his jeans, “you think you can help me get my dad? We still don’t know where he is, he’s probably freaking out by now.” 

“Howard!” Bucky says, his face morphing, “yes, I can lead you there.” 

“Lets…” Tony starts, “let's get you cleaned up first.” He offers, “an extra 30 minutes isn’t going to hurt anything.” 

Steve looks at Tony gratefully and they leave Clint there to deal with cleanup. 

————

An hour later, Bucky is leading them into an antique shop and down into a bunker below the back staircase. 

“Barnes?” A tired voice calls, “that you? What took you so long? I’ve been worried sick!” 

“It’s me,” Bucky calls out, glancing at Tony, “and I’ve brought company…” 

The voice falls silent and Tony steps off the last ladder rung and rounds the corner. 

“Hey dad.” He says hesitantly. 

“Tony!” Steve hears Howard shout, there’s a crash and Tony stumbles back under the weight of his father crashing against him and wrapping his arms around him. 

“Yeah, it’s me, dad, you okay?” 

“Okay? My son just came to rescue me— wait, you are here to rescue me right? Not like you guys are hiding too?” 

Steve laughs and Howard’s head whips around to the sound, eyes widening, “STEVE!” He gasps, “you’re here too!” 

“Yeah, Howard, how you been? Sorry I didn’t come after you, they wouldn’t let me.”

Howard waves him off, “trust me, I knew you would have if you could. Never doubted you, pal.” 

“Let’s get out of this hellhole.” Tony says, “get what you need you’re coming home.” 

Howard smiles, patting Tony on the back and going to gather just the few things they need. 

Bucky steps forward grabbing a backpack and a black jacket. 

“Your apartment is in ashes, right Steve?” 

Steve’s eyes widen in rememberance and he sighs, “yeah I guess so. I’ll get us a hotel—-“

“Not a chance.” Howard says his head snapping to them. 

“No way!” Tony says at the same time. “You’re both staying with us till you get a new place. No objections.” 

Steve’s about to protest when Tony points at him, “what part of no objectives can’t you get through your thick skull?” Steve rolls his eyes but there’s a relief there too. 

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“You think we can still work on getting this programming out of my head?” Bucky asks Howard hopefully. 

“Hell yeah, pal. That’s my number one priority after showering and eating a good meal.” 

“Mom’s gunna flip.” Tony says wincing, “I haven’t told her anything.” 

Howard smiles looking longingly off into the distance, “oh Maria, how I’ve missed you!” 

Tony grimaces and Steve laughs, “lets get going then, I want to check in with Clint that Zola got arrested.” 

“You guys caught Zola?” Howard asks in awe, “that’s amazing, guy’s a bastard.” 

“You’re telling me.” Bucky says flatly.

“Let's go home.” Tony says, motioning for his dad to follow him.

————

The next day, Steve finds himself in Shield headquarters. He ignores the stares of people watching him as he walks by. He’s being led by Clint and out of the corner of his eye he sees Lily, no, Lorraine , his mind supplies. She eyes him with interest and he glares at her. She pales a bit but then shrugs, turning back towards her desk. 

He steps into a main office and immediately knows that he’s looking at Colonel Phillips. 

“Captain Steven Rogers?” 

“Yes.” There should be a sir after that, since the man technically outranks him, but Steve doesn’t give him the courtesy and the man doesn’t press the issue. 

“We’d like to debrief you in the incidents that happened the last couple days.” 

“And I’d like to know what information you collected on me and my family.” Steve shoots back. 

They eye each other and Phillips nods. Steve watches as Clint’s eyes widen in surprise and Steve leans back, relaxing in the chair, ready to get to the bottom of everything. 

———

Three hours later, Steve stands, shakes hands with Phillips and heads out of his office. Clint follows him to the elevator and he thinks he’s going to break off there, but the man follows him down to the parking garage. 

Steve’s curiosity grows as Clint walks him to his bike. 

“Something on your mind, Barton?” Steve finally asks. 

The man grins, knowing he’s been caught and leans against the car next to Steve’s bike. 

“You know…” he starts, eyeing another person who passes by. “Your mom was a nurse right?” 

Steve feels his defenses go up, “yeah, why.” 

“She ever talk about the doctor’s looking down on her? Or other male nurses making her feel less than because she’s the woman?” 

He’s confused, “yeah, she talked about that all the time.” 

Clint nods, like they’ve just agreed on something. 

“I was just thinking… and don’t misunderstand me, I do understand where you’re coming from…. But…” Clint looks at Steve dead in the eyes, all joking gone, just a serious expression on his face. “Peggy is neck deep in a job filled with 95% males. She’s had to struggle and work and fight for every ounce of respect from her male counterparts simply because of the fact she’s not ‘one of the guys’. It’s this bullshit mentality that she’s weaker or more susceptible to the job because of her feminine sensibilities. If she’d complained about Lorraine using her story? Phillips would probably have labeled her as ‘too sensitive’ or ‘emotionally compromised’. Trust me when I say she was furious. And she and I both hate Lorraine’s tactics, and, just so you know, I’ve never seen her so protective of an ‘informant’ before, but she didn’t see herself as having a choice. It is ‘do what has to be done in the name of completing the mission’ or be relegated back to secretarial work...” Clint looks meaningfully at Steve. “Something about you disarmed her very quickly even though she denied it every step of the way. Hell, she talked about your little sister and I’ve never seen her grow attached to a ‘informants’ family before. So, I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. Just something for you to consider.” 

Steve stands there, his mind whirling with everything Clint has just told him. He looks at Clint and takes a deep breath. “Thanks.” He says finally. “Sometimes I get in my own head about what is right and wrong. And it’s nice to see a different perspective. I’ll uh… I’ll think about what you said for sure.” 

Clint nods, reaching his hand out to shake and Steve accepts. 

“Thanks for everything, Captain.” Clint smirks, “I’d be on your team anytime.” 

Steve laughs, and nods. “Next time, I’ll call you first.” 

They part ways and Steve is distracted, thinking about what Clint said the whole way home. 

—————

Peggy is tired of feeling groggy and out of it. She’s been on heavy medication for her burns and injuries for three days now and she wants to feel like herself again. 

So when she blinks awake, a lump of a figure at the end of the bed makes her think she’s more out of it than normal. 

“Oh for pity’s sake.” She says angrily to herself. “Get a grip, Margaret.” The figure shifts, and she sighs as Steve’s face blinks into focus. He looks adorable, laying there, his arms crossed under his head near her feet, his mouth parted slightly open in sleep. Peggy tries to resist the urge to brush his hair back from his forehead, but finds her fingers grazing it back, relishing in the softness of the strands. 

“Peggy?” A groggy voice speaks. 

“Oh, it’s speaking now?”  She asks the hallucination in annoyance, she feels her chest tighten and decides enough is enough. “Nurse!” She shouts, pressing the call button. 

Steve’s face morphs into confusion, his head lifting off the bed. “What’s going on?” 

A nurse opens the door and looks at Peggy, “is everything okay?” 

“No, these drugs are too strong, I’d like to have a lower dose, I don’t care about the pain, I’m healing, I’ll be fine. I just hate feeling loopy and out of it.” 

The nurse’s face is a mask of uncertainty. “We lowered your dose yesterday. You asked us too, Don’t you remember?“

Peggy huffs in annoyance, feeling flustered. “If I’m on a lower dose why am I still seeing things that aren’t there?” 

The concern on the nurse’s face is apparent, “What are you seeing now?” 

Peggy feels her face flush, her eyes briefly dancing over Steve. “Just the same people.” 

The nurse glances at Steve and looks back at Peggy. “You wouldn’t happen to think you’re hallucinating a gigantic gorgeous blonde man at the foot of your bed would you?” Steve’s face goes beet red and Peggy looks at the man in shock. She looks at the nurse who is looking like she just won the lottery with the way Steve reacted to her comment. “He’s no hallucination, sugar. He’s really here this time.” The nurse winks and disappears back out the door. 

They stare at each other for a moment, both unsure of where to start. 

“I’m sorry—“ they both start, halting as the other speaks. There’s another minute of awkward glancing before Steve takes a deep breath. 

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said in the diner. About how saving you that night wasn’t helpful. It was a horrible thing to say and it’s really unlike me. Or at least… I’d  like to think it is.” He scrubs the back of his neck. “I was really…” he bites at his cheek, “hurt that day I suppose. And I reacted in anger. So I just wanted to come here and apologize for what I said.” 

“How long have you been here?” She asks.

“Just since last night. You were already asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“They let you stay past visiting hours?” 

Steve’s cheeks go pink again and she’s reminded of how much she loves that color. “I just asked the nurses really nicely.” He says quietly, his eyes downcast. 

Peggy looks out the window at the few nurses who are standing outside her window, pretending to be busy as they watch the two out of the corner of their eyes. “Oh I’m sure you did.” Peggy snorts. “Cheeky buggers.” She grumbles. 

Her eyes glance back at Steve, who still is looking down at his hands. 

“There’s not any need for you to apologize.” She says firmly, “I deserved it, I sho—“ 

“You did not deserve to be spoken to the way I spoke to you.” Steve insists, his eyes sincere as he makes eye contact. “Even if I don’t like how everything played out, I shouldn’t have spoken that way.” 

Peggy sits there, fidgeting with her hospital gown, unsure of what to say. 

“Did you hear everything that happened?” Steve offers, his eyes back on his hands. 

“No, I haven’t really been with it the past couple days.” She admits. “If they told me anything, I don’t think I would have remembered it.”

There’s the ghost of a smile as Steve speaks softly, “would that be in reference to these hallucinations you’ve mentioned having multiple times?” 

Peggy feels her face heat up and the soft expression on Steve’s doesn't help. 

“I don’t know to what you are referring.” She lies, her hands smoothing out the blanket in front of her. “I think you may have misheard.” 

The smile grows just slightly as he nods, his eyebrows crinkling. “Oh, I misheard, did I?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Huh.” 

“Yep.” 

“Interesting.” 

“Not particularly.” 

Steve’s grin is wider and Peggy has to look away to try to get her heart rate to calm down. This makes Steve’s smile disappear. “Are you okay? Your heart is beating really fast… Should I get a nurse?” Her eyes snap to his and she looks around for a heart rate monitor, but there isn’t one. He looks sheepish as he ducks his head against his shoulders. “Sorry, I can hear it. Not really a choice.” 

She gapes at him, her heart beat elevating even higher at the thought he can hear it. He stands up, taking a step back, worry on his face. “Let me get a nurse—“ He’s turning to leave but she doesn't want him to go. 

“No!” She says quickly. “I’m fine. I promise, just stop bloody smiling at me like that and my heart will be just fine.” 

She enjoys the shock on his face at her comment, before it morphs into a wide grin that makes her heart flutter and suddenly he’s frowning at the sound. 

“This is quite the rollercoaster.” He comments. “How am I supposed to not smile at you?”

One side of her lips pull up, dimpling her cheek, “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

———————

She wakes up the next day to find a note stuck under a cup of coffee on her bedside table. 

Peggy, 

My luck ran out with the nurses. They’re kicking me out, so I hope this coffee will make up for me disappearing while you slept. I would like to meet up with you, if you’d like, sometime. Maybe you could tell me more about Michael or maybe I could hear a little bit more about the real you? No pressure, I’ll be at the diner most days if you need to contact me. Or I’m staying at Tony’s until I find a new place. Either way, I hope to see you soon.

S.R. 

P.S. This note is not a hallucination

She’s still smiling an hour later when the nurse comes to check her bandages. 

——————

Chapter Text

She’s almost discharged. They’ve cleared her, and she’s set to be released that afternoon, which makes the morning torturous. She hates waiting. 

Then a knock on the door pulls her from her grumbling. 

“Come in?” Two sets of nervous feet shuffle through her door. She stares at them in surprise, but then smiles a bit nervously. “Oh.. hello.” 

Wanda and Natasha look at her, then each other and then back to her. 

“Hey,”

“Hi.” 

Peggy’s unsure of what to say, are they angry at her? It’s only been a couple days since Steve’s visit, and just because he’s forgiven her doesn't mean they have. 

“Steve—“ Wanda starts, her eyebrows furrowing, “Steve explained what happened, or at least he explained as much as he could and…” 

Natasha’s glaring at her, and Peggy doesn’t fear much but even the glint in that girl’s eye is a bit dangerous. 

“And we wanted to hear it from you.” Wanda says firmly. “Steve’s… He’s too good and too nice and he forgave you so easily. But you lied to us too.”

It’s an easy thing to admit. “I know. And I am sorry for what it’s worth.” 

“He tried to explain about your job and why it was necessary, but… we wanted to hear it from you.” 

Peggy takes a deep breath, “okay. I’ll explain.” She gestures to the chairs near the window and they drag them over. 

————

When she finishes they stare at her with a bit of awe in their expressions. 

“Wow.” 

“Yeah, seriously, like geez.” 

Peggy chuckles. “Being a female spy has it’s pros and cons, that's for sure.” 

“So you’re just a really really good actress?”

Peggy’s head tilts a bit, “well,” she muses, “It’s important that the people who I’m speaking to, to believe who I say I am. If they don’t I can’t accomplish my job.” 

Natasha glares at Wanda. “See, I told you, I was right.” 

Wanda crosses her arms, annoyed. 

She’s confused. “Um, I’m lost, what were you right about?” 

Natahsha has a smug look on her face now, “I told Wanda that you were just pretending to like Steve the whole time. That you faked all of it. That you never actually liked him or thought he was cute. So I won the bet.” 

Wanda has an annoyed scowl and she huffs at Peggy. “I could have sworn you did. I didn’t realize someone could act that well. Even that time when—“ She cuts off and her eyes go downcast. 

Peggy’s throat goes dry and for one of the very few times in her life she feels like this is a tipping point. The point of no return. You don’t say things you don’t mean to teenage girls. Trust once lost is hard to regain. 

She’s already lucky enough they’ve forgiven her for her spy work. 

She clears her throat and eyes Wanda sheepishly, “well….” 

The girl’s face lights up and Peggy feels her face flush. 

————

She taps her foot nervously outside the diner. He’s working today. She texted Wanda to double check and the amount of heart eye emoji’s Wanda sent back was mind bending. 

“You know the food is on the inside, right?” 

She startles, turning to see Sam staring at her from the alley. 

She blushes and scrubs a hand under her nose. “Oh, yes, I just was— uh..”

“He’s here.” 

“I know.” 

The answer raises an eyebrow and she flushes again. Damn. 

“Come on in, the gang is literally all here.” 

The door behind him slams shut and she turns towards the front door again. Squaring her shoulders and walking through. 

———

Clint is the first big surprise. 

“Carter!” He crows, somehow leaping out of the booth and in front of her in moments. “You’re here! Have you met everyone?” 

He ushers her over to the booth that now has a table set against it to elongate the table top. She waves hello to Natasha and Wanda, they smile back smugly. She nods at Tony who gives her an amused half smile back and then Clint turns her to the newer sets of faces. 

“This is Howard and his wife, Maria.” 

She shakes the man’s hand and he looks at her with interest. “I hear you’re partially to thank for my saving.” 

“Oh, I don’t—“

“Don’t be humble.” He says, his mustache quirking up, “you told them about Barnes being taken. If you hadn’t, then they’d never have known and I would have sat in that bunker forever. So thanks.” 

She nods and receives a warm hug from Maria who seems shy and quiet. The complete opposite of Howard. 

But it’s the last face that causes her pause. 

He’s got a hoodie on, and jeans, and his hair has been cut. But she recognizes his face instantly. 

“This is James Barnes.” Clint says flatly, “as if you didn’t know.” 

There’s a tense moment, an unsurety as the person she was meant to capture stares at her with deep blue questioning eyes. 

“Hello.” She says simply, extending her hand, “it’s nice to see you in person and not through grainy photographs and videos.” 

The pin drop silence is enough to make her question her choice of joke. Maybe she should have apologized? She’d guessed—

He laughs. He laughs and he shakes her hand and then he chuckles again and then he winces and she watches as both Howard and Tony reach out in concern and he waves them off. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Too much happy. They didn’t like me being happy. It’ll go away.” 

They sit back and she can’t help but notice the soft smile on everyone’s face as they sit and eat and talk. 

“So,” Sam says, appearing from the kitchen. “Do I tell him she’s here? Or do I let him walk right into it?” 

It takes her a second to realize she is the she in question. 

There’s a resounding chorus of ‘don’t tell him!’s and she is pulled down into the chair between Clint and James. 

“I’m Bucky.” James says, “by the way. I prefer it.” 

She smiles, “Steve told me, though I cannot fathom why.” 

He laughs again and then goes back to eating. 

It takes another 15 minutes for Steve to make his way out, his apron covered in flour and what looks like blackberry juice. 

He makes it halfway to the table, his eyes on the group, when they land on her. She sees his step falter for just a second before he walks the last few steps and stands behind Tony. He looks around with a smile. 

“Hey.” 

There’s a round of hellos and they tease him about the pastry he’s baked that morning and how with Angie off that morning his coffee making abilities were subpar. 

She’s never seen him look so happy or at ease. 

She notices his eyes flick to Barnes often, as if checking to see if he’s still there. 

Barnes seems to notice and he waits. The next time Steve’s eyes land on him, he flicks a jam packet and hits him right in the forehead. 

Steve flinches back in surprise and the group laughs. 

“I’m still here, Steve.” 

The irritated smile on Bucky’s face must be a staple because Steve takes it in stride, putting the little packet of strawberry jam back in its place before smiling back. “Just checking.” 

“Punk.”

“Jerk.” 

“Idiots.” Tony adds, looking at both of them, back and forth to see if his addition will be accepted. Steve looks at Bucky who looks at Steve and they stare for a second before shrugging in acceptance. 

“Heard worse.”

“Same.” 

Peggy knows Tony likes to play it cool, but the slight sag of his shoulders back against the booth looks a little relieved to have been accepted by the duo. 

A timer dings from Steve’s pocket and he’s waving at them, heading back to the bakery. 

She gets a text. 

 W: past the counter, to the right and another right.

She stares at the message in confusion. Then it dawns on her. She looks up in surprise to see Wanda looking at her with a pointed glare. Like: are you gunna be a coward or not?

Her phone is suddenly taken from her hand. She glances up to see Clint staring at it and she reaches for it back. 

“Where do these instructions lead?” He asks out loud. 

“Barton.” Peggy huffs. “I swear, if you don—“ 

The phone gets tossed to Tony who glances at the screen and then rolls his eyes, handing it to Natasha who doesn’t even look at the screen before passing it to Bucky. 

Bucky looks at it and then looks up. 

“You and Steve?” 

She feels her face aflame and feels the need to defend herself. “Me and Steve, nothing.” She says indignantly. 

“Nothing, yet .” Wanda clarifies, her grin mischievous. 

Clint’s hauling her up and pushing her towards the counter. 

She’s backing up and pushing against him when she hears a voice, Tony’s, “he saved your life in that apartment fire, and you’re not even going to thank him?” 

She’s sure she did. She’s sure she said thank you in the hospi—

She glares at the group and then holds her head high, walking past the counter and past Sam’s interested stare. She follows the directions, pushing through a metal door that has a circular window at the top. 

She walks in to hear Alan Silvestri playing and she smiles. 

“You know.” She muses, “I know you can hear me coming.” 

His back tenses, and he turns around, guilt on his face. “You know I don’t try to.” 

“I know.” 

“You’re here.” 

“I’m here.” 

“You’re in my bakery.” He says it timidly, as if she’s witnessing something personal, and as she looks around to the flour covered work space, the radio in the corner, the map with pins marking locations she doesn’t know the significance of, and the photos taped to the wall, some burnt, and she realizes that maybe that’s true. 

“I’m in your bakery.” 

The smile that spreads on his face makes her stomach do a flip. She steps forward, brushing her fingers through a layer of flour and coming up close to him. 

She stands right in front of him, her head tilted up and his tilted down. His eyes are on hers, wide and unsure of what her intentions are. 

“I never said thank you for saving me at the apartment.” 

His face instantly shifts, eyebrows pulling down, “you don’t need to thank me, it was the right thing to—“

She holds up a finger, shushing him. “Maybe, yes, maybe it was the right thing to do, but in that moment it was also the kind thing to do. And I have never met anyone who is as kind as you.” 

His hand runs through the back of his hair and his ears tinge just the tiniest bit pink. “Oh, I’m sure there’s plent—“

“Steve?” 

“Hmm?”

“Take the compliment.” 

“Oh-Kay.” 

She steps closer, bringing her hand up and hesitating only a moment before brushing her fingers through the few strands that are hanging down. 

His eyes don’t move from hers but he leans into her touch. 

“Your hair is so soft.” She says without thinking. 

His eyes, still trained on hers, are earnest, “it is?” 

She ‘mmhmms’ and brushes through it again, running her fingers farther and musing it. She smiles down from his hair and looks back only to see that his eyes have closed at the touch. Just like on the couch. 

“Steve?” 

His eyelashes raise, looking at her again, “yes?” 

“When was the last time someone—“ She pauses, what is she trying to ask? When was the last time someone kissed you? No.. Lorraine… When was the last time someone loved you? Too personal and too broad. 

But the way he’s reacting to just her gentle touch in his hair makes her think it’s been too long since anyone has just shown him any sort of physical affection. Not sexual, not lustful, just… love. Love in the form of a gentle touch. 

His eyes are questioning but he waits, patient. She looks at him, bringing up her other hand and placing both hands on the sides of his face. 

His jaw is tense, unsure, but she presses her palms firmly against his skin and uses her middle fingers to draw gentle circles around his temples. 

She feels his jaw unclench and she smiles, “when’s the last time you let someone take care of you?” 

They both startle at the shout of someone muffled behind the metal door. “Never!” 

They turn to gape at Bucky who has his face centered in the window, wearing a shit-eating grin. Wanda’s perched on his back, peering over his head, Clint’s over their shoulder and Tony and Natasha are squabbling about something beneath his chin. 

Steve laughs and tilts his head in happiness, her palms tilt with his movement and it draws his eyes back to hers. 

She goes to let go, but his palms find the back of her hands, holding them there against his face. “I—“ 

His face goes pink and she holds her breath, excited for what he’s about to say. 

“I’ve never really wanted anyone to take care of me… Until now.” 

The audible groans and fake gagging sounds from behind the door do nothing to stop her heart from melting. 

—————

She watches as his eyelids droop. They’re sitting on her couch, a stack of trivia cards on her lap, and she’d just asked if he was tired and he’d studiously insisted that he was not. 

But there it was. 

Another long blink. 

The way his eyelashes pulled up slowly should be criminal. 

“Okay.” She obliges, pulling another card from the deck. She tries not to let herself smile as she sees his shoulders relaxing into the couch. 

“In which hand does the Statue of Liberty hold the torch?” 

His voice is a mumble, a sleepy, deep mumble that warms her stomach up. “The right hand, obviously. Who do you think I am?” 

She chuckles softly, “Steve, it’s okay to be tired, you can wipe the floor with me at trivia another night. 

His voice is even more tired as he tries to deny the obvious, “-m not tired.” 

She reaches up, tugging his head down onto her lap and running her fingers through his hair, something that’s become a habit. It calms him down, relaxes him, and she finds it has a similar effect on her.. She gently scratches at his scalp and a content sound from his throat causes her to smile. 

His eyes blink up at her slowly. “No fair.” 

“If you’re not tired then laying flat will do nothing.” 

The sleepy smile on his face fades as he slips into sleep not a minute later. She rests her hand on his chest for a few minutes, feeling the strong and steady heartbeat below. 

Then she carefully bends over, kissing the tip of his nose, which always seems to be just the tiniest bit colder than the rest of his face. His eyelids flutter but he doesn’t wake. She continues running her fingers through his hair and presses a kiss to his forehead and then his temple. 

He sighs. A beautiful, relaxed and contented sigh that somehow makes the butterflies in her stomach stir. He shifts, his face turning out, facing away from her, exposing the side of his face, his sharp jaw on perfect display. 

They haven’t even kissed yet, she only asked him over to her apartment yesterday, but that tender skin, right below his ear is begging to be kissed. 

So… gently she leans down, placing her lips against the crook of his jaw and kisses, moving up, kissing right under and behind his ear and pressing another kiss on his jawline. 

A hungry sound, not quite a moan but close enough escapes his throat and his fingers which had been on her leg tighten. It’s enough to make her freeze and then melt all over again. 

She leans back, closing her own eyes and leaving one hand in his hair and the other over his chest. 

———

He and Bucky move into an apartment less than a week later. Bucky’s name has been fully cleared by Shield, and Zola is behind bars for conspiracy, and for selling and using government information and assets to aid and abet terrorist organizations. 

Steve’s never been so happy. 

They pick a three bedroom. Steve and Bucky’s military pay is just enough for it. Wanda and Natasha are there more often than not, and it makes for a loud, chaotic, happy home. There’s never not cookies or some sort of sweet sitting on the kitchen island, available for whoever decides to drop by. 

Bucky, every once and awhile will wake up screaming from a nightmare, or freeze as his brain fights what has been forced in it, but Steve, Wanda, and sometimes even Howard or Clint are just the right people to remind him where he is and that he’s safe. 

He’s never met anyone who bickers more than Tony and Bucky (except maybe Tony and Howard) but the fact that Bucky is arguing is a genuinely amazing sign. 

Bucky had finally let him watch the footage of his torture and brainwashing. 

He’d cried and not let Bucky out of his sight for three days until the man had socked him so hard in the jaw that his head had rattled. 

“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, Steve! Stop hovering.” 

He’s trying. He can’t say he doesn’t text Bucky multiple times a day just to ‘check in’ but the eye roll emoji he receives back each time is enough. Bucky’s home. He’s safe. 

He and Sam devise a new schedule at the diner and Bucky starts working there, doing maintenance on all the machines and also working part time at an auto-shop. Bucky works up the courage to let his family know he’s alive and while they don’t ask him what he’s been through, the arm is proof enough, and they welcome him back with open arms. His ma is always sending food and necessities over. Steve sees Bucky really start to relax and believe he’s home for good. 

Tony and his dad are regulars at the diner now. Mrs. Stark shows up often, smiling as she listens to her boys argue, but just as often, it’s just the two and they come, always with a device they are tinkering with or their computers. 

They drink copious amounts of coffee and when Steve sees them enter, no matter what time of day,  he always starts making his now famous cinnamon rolls and puts in four orders of the breakfast sandwich he’d given Tony way back when. 

They order it every time without fail. 

Steve always walks it out to them and stands there nodding as they argue and ask him questions about who’s right. To which Steve always just says “well, you both have a good point.” Before laughing and walking away, making the two groan and go back to bickering. 

Peggy and Angie have become fast friends. 

Now that Angie knows the whole story (thanks to Sam) they’ve bonded over the ‘ridiculously’ overprotective men in their life while smiling at said men. 

Every time Steve sees Peggy’s curls bounce into the diner he has to take a breath to get his heart to calm down. 

She kisses him now. 

Kisses that make his pulse race and ears go pink. Kisses that make his stomach flip and lungs fight for air. Kisses that have him involuntarily or maybe very voluntarily pulling her closer by her waist and holding the back of her neck in his hand, fingers twirled in her hair. 

One day Sam walks in on them, and the amount of flour in Peggy’s hair has him laughing for the next week. 

Steve had blushed but the passionate and fiery hunger in Peggy’s eyes told him she wasn’t embarrassed, and if she wasn’t then he sure as hell wasn’t going to be. 

———-

Okay, so maybe the people who bicker more than Tony and Bucky are Bucky and Peggy. 

They argue about almost everything, and it usually ends in them making a bet about who is wrong, much to Steve’s chagrin. 

———

Peggy is curled up in Steve’s lap, her legs tucked under her chin and his chin resting on her head. She does this often on these winter nights as she has discovered that he radiates so much extra heat and she gravitates towards it. 

But then Bucky sidles over to the couch and sits dangerously close to Steve’s side. Not looking at either of them, just presses up against Steve’s side and goes about his business, typing stuff up on his phone. 

Steve seems surprised but it quickly settles into contentment of the people he loves the most being there. 

Wanda walks out of her guest room and stares. 

“Um. Guys?” 

All three look up and she has a confused smile on her face, “what’s going on?” 

Before either Peggy or Steve can speak, Bucky is talking, not looking up at any of them. 

“Steve radiates like the sun and it’s cold as crap in this apartment.” 

Understanding lights up Wanda’s face and she giggles, running back to her room and grabbing her blanket off the foot of her bed. 

She comes back, sitting down at Steve’s feet, wriggling between his legs and resting her head on his knee. She wraps the blanket around her and Steve and Bucky’s legs and sighs. “You’re right Buck. He is warm.” 

“ He is right here.” Steve says with a grumble but his eyes are crinkled in happiness. 

“You all aren’t even where it’s warmest,” Peggy says smugly, snuggling against his chest. She chuckles at the blush that she can feel rise.

Wanda laughs and Bucky rolls his eyes, just smooshing closer. 

“We could just turn up the heat in the apartment, Steve offers. 

“Too expensive.” Bucky says, just as Peggy says “not nearly as fun.” 

Steve doesn’t seem to mind their rejection of his idea and he must wriggle his toes because Wanda laughs and slaps at his leg causing his chest to rumble with laughter. 

Wanda turns the TV on, setting it to some game show and promptly falling asleep. It takes a little while longer, but Bucky does as well. His phone resting on his thigh and mouth slightly parted in slumber. Peggy glances up to see the heart wrenchingly soft smile that’s on Steve’s face as he looks at all three of them. 

The look is so strong and emotional that she can’t help herself, she has to know, “Steve?” She whispers, “are you okay?” 

He looks at her, his arm that’s wrapped around her pulls her tighter against him. “Okay?” He whispers back, “I’ve literally never been happier.” 

She raises an eyebrow in question and he smiles, his voice still a whisper. “6 months ago… I didn’t have a family. I had Sam and Wanda.. but they have their own families too, and I had just gotten back and I didn’t want to be a burden to them and I felt… so out of place, so… I don’t know. Alone, I guess.” He pauses and the hand he runs up her spine sends shivers even though she’s pleasantly warm against him. “Now? The number of people I love has tripled . I feel like not only do I have a family, but that I’m part of multiple families, and it’s just…” he clears his throat, eyes tipping up to the ceiling, trying to stay quiet, “it’s almost more happiness than I can bear. I don’t even know how I’ve come to deserve it.” 

The words leave her lips unbidden, but they’re sincere and honest and true and it’s the thing she wants to say to him more than anything in this moment, “I love you.” 

His eyes, which had just been pointed at the ceiling, snap to hers, wide and blue and earnest and… just a tiny bit glistening. 

His voice is husky as he responds, “I love you too. You know that right? That I love you? That I’ve loved you since you helped Wanda when she was sick—“ He’s still talking but she’s now planting soft kisses on his collarbone and up his neck and under his jaw. His voice is stuttering and she feels his fingers gripping her tighter and she smiles against the thinner skin near his adam’s apple. Fingers twirl through her hair, gently stopping her kisses by pulling her face away from his neck. He eyes her, something so tender and fiery all at once that she feels herself swallow thickly. The look he gives her is too intense, she feels her heart start to race. He kisses her, his lips pressing against hers and then he’s returning the favor, kissing her jaw and neck just briefly before he pulls away. 

“One day, when I make you an official part of this family, I’ll be even happier than I am in this moment.” 

She feels caught off guard by the honesty in that comment and swept away with happiness all at once. 

“When I accept to being part of this family permanently,” she responds slowly, “I can’t wait to be a part of what makes you happy.” 

They smile at each other and she nestles back against his chest while he presses kiss after kiss against her hair.

She’s asleep before she knows it. 

————

Steve sits there, hearing the three steady heartbeats of the people he loves so much he could burst. And then he thinks of Sam and Tony and Howard and Natasha and Clint and everyone else who has become an unexpected but welcome part of who he considers his family. 

His one hand rests against Peggy’s waist. Feeling her warmth against his. Wanda’s head rests on his knee, her breathing soft and calm. 

He turns his head to Bucky, who’s metal arm is on display. No fear, no worry of judgement, just a part of him. Bucky must sense something because his eyes blink open briefly, glancing over to Steve before taking in the two sleeping girls. 

“Everything okay?” Bucky asks, his voice raspy with sleep. 

“It’s perfect, Buck.” 

“You’re such a sap.” 

“Absolutely.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, and Steve can hear him falling back asleep, but he mumbles out one last thing. “Thanks for not giving up on me out there.” 

“Thanks for staying alive long enough for me to find you.” 

Bucky’s eyes are closed but that doesn’t stop the furrowing brow that tells Steve he’s touched on something sensitive. He takes a a chance. 

“What you went through, Buck? No one should ever have to. But the way you’re not letting it stop you? You’re fighting it, making a life for yourself and that takes a lot of strength—“ 

Bucky opens his eyes, cutting Steve off by rolling them at him, before closing them again and rubbing at his eyes, yawning. “How about we just don’t do anything stupid anymore.” Bucky offers sleepily. “We stay outta trouble and outta terrorist hands and we all live happily ever after as the weirdest assortment of characters ever to be found in one family?” 

Steve smiles and nods, “sounds good to me.” 

Bucky closes his eyes and leans back. And one after the other, they fall asleep, together as a little family.