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In his defense, Steve was not trying to actively get himself killed when it happened.
He was, in fact, safely ensconced in one of the many, many garages in the Avengers tower, fixing his motorcycle. Or, more accurately, he was playing “How Many Important Motorcycle Parts Could He Take Out Before Tony Had an Aneurysm.” It was really one of the only benefits of living in a place where a voice in the walls saw and judged your every move.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t do that, Captain,” JARVIS said as Steve yanked out a handful of wires from underneath the front wheel.
Steve waved a casual hand towards the ceiling, taking care to provide a clear view of each individual wire before setting them deliberately next to the brake disk.
“Don’t worry about it, JARVIS,” he said cheerily. “I learned how to fix motorcycles in Nazi Germany.” He poked at an exposed spring with his screwdriver. “I don’t really need a shock absorber on this thing, do I?”
There was a noticeable pause. “Please excuse me, sir,” JARVIS said, and if Steve didn’t know any better, he would say the poor AI sounded almost strained as he spoke.
Steve would feel guilty about it if he wasn’t enjoying himself so much. According to Bucky, being a little shit was the highlight of Steve’s abilities before the war. It was nice to know he still had it.
Whistling, Steve started to remove the front suspension fork from the wheel rim. He had maybe four minutes before Tony ran in screaming, so he might as well make the most of it. For the Avengers, days off were rare, and Steve was planning on taking full advantage of today.
So of course, the universe chose this moment to open a wormhole on the ceiling and dump a very confused, very much alive Steve Trevor into his lap.
---
Hey, he looks like me! was Steve’s first thought after the initial shock.
Actually, no- backtrack. His first thought was fuck, fuck, ow, followed immediately and intimately by where the Sam Hill is my shield? and rounding out rather cleverly with I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life.
By the time his brain got around to “Hey, he looks like me!” Steve had already accidentally shoved the poor man into his motorcycle and was on the verge of stabbing him with a rear fender.
“Oh my god, what is happening,” the man managed to say from where his face was crushed against the metal.
He’s the one from Diana’s photograph, Steve realized, and it was an honest testament to the events of his life that he wasn’t even surprised.
“Oops,” he said, dropping the fender and removing the other man from the motorcycle. He awkwardly patted the man’s clothes down and helped him to his feet. “Sorry about that. Reflex.”
The man- Steve Trevor, he remembered from Diana’s stories- stared at him with incomprehension. “Who the hell are you?” he croaked.
For a brief moment, Steve was surprised by the question. He had gotten used to people knowing him wherever he went, and almost blushed at his accidental arrogance. Rubbing the back of his neck, he stuck out a hand towards Trevor.
“I’m Steve,” he said. “Steve Rogers.”
Trevor blinked at Steve’s hand before awkwardly reaching out and grabbing it. His movements seemed a bit slow, unsure. Maybe it was a side effect of dying. Or undying. Whichever one, Steve really didn’t care anymore.
“I’m, uh, also Steve, I guess.” Trevor moved their hands up and down mechanically. “Steve Trevor.”
He looked around blearily at the motorcycles in the garage, some glistening new while others sat in charred-up husks. Steve always tried to salvage his motorcycles whenever he could, despite Tony insisting that it wasn’t necessary.
“Could you maybe tell me where the hell I am?” Trevor asked slowly.
Steve eyed the man’s unsteady legs. “Sure, buddy, but you probably want to sit down first.”
Trevor eyed him back warily. “You’re not a demigod too, are you?”
Steve laughed. It was actually kind of nice to be on the giving end of this conversation. “That’s a very nice compliment, but no, I’m not. You’re in New York City, but-”
He was interrupted by a massive clang as the doors to the garage swung violently open. Tony Goddamn Stark charged in guns blazing, wearing Captain America boxers and what seemed to be a short nightgown that he only managed to half put on. He had three screwdrivers of various lengths stuck by some magic to his hair, and was hoisting a tool box in his left hand and a stack of half-crumpled blueprints in his right.
“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony growled as he marched across the garage, eyes half-crazed and rimmed with what was either soot or eyeliner- possibly both. “What is this I hear about you using World War Two knowledge on a twenty-first century motorcycle?”
Steve felt his heart skip a beat for maybe the first time since the serum cured his arrhythmia. He glanced frantically at Trevor, whose eyes were widening to the size of moons.
Tony skidded to a stop in front of them, apparently noticing Trevor for the first time since he started his rampage. He blinked once. Twice. Rubbed his eyes with tar-stained knuckles, and god, that was probably not very sanitary.
“Geez Louise,” Tony muttered, adopting a look of long-suffering acceptance that Steve felt very deeply. “There are two of them.”
---
Steve deeply resented the uproarious laughter he received when he called Bucky to tell him about Steve Trevor. Don’t get him wrong- Steve loved the fact that Bucky was back to laughing and being an unapologetic asshole again, but that didn’t stop Steve from wanting to smack the smug look Bucky was undoubtedly sporting off his stupid, handsome face. And then maybe Steve would kiss it better. Depending on how he was feeling.
“This isn’t funny, Buck,” he insisted, despite half of him wanting to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation himself. “We haven’t even figured out what caused the first portal yet. Director Fury’s eye still twitches whenever he goes near the roof. And now there are two. This could be the start of a collapse of the space time continuum.”
“Or- Or-” Bucky said in between bouts of laughter. “Or the collapse of Fury’s poor heart. You think the man can handle this much bullshit in so little time?”
Steve frowned. He hadn’t considered that. “Maybe I should have called the ambulance before I asked Tony to inform him of the situation.”
“You sent Stark to tell Fury of a second portal to hell that spat out a person who is supposed to be dead?” Bucky wheezed. “Stop- stop it, Steve, you’re killing me.”
“Ha ha.” Steve crossed his arms even though he knew Bucky couldn’t see him. “Will you at least tell Diana about him?”
That sobered Bucky up fairly quickly. There was a pause, then a faint exhale before Steve heard, “I don't know. I wouldn't even know how to break it to her really. I mean, we’re currently in the middle of dealing with some sort of Canadian Hydra branch- not as funny as it sounds, trust me- so we’ve had our hands full for a while now. Dropping this on her in the middle of the mission? I'm not sure that's a good idea.”
“She would want to know,” Steve said, feeling strangely off-balance. “No matter what the situation. No matter how long it’s been, she would- She would want to know.”
Bucky was quiet for a second. “I’ll tell her.”
“I knew you would.”
“… Hey, Stevie?”
“Hm?”
“I miss you.”
Steve bit his bottom lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. His cheeks felt hot. “It’s been four days, you big sap.”
“Four days too long, you mean,” Bucky whined, sounding deliberately pathetic. “Diana’s great company, but I miss your specific brand of righteousness.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Steve, Steve, Steve,” Bucky chided. “Did you just make a dirty joke? For shame. What would Captain America think?”
“Captain America thinks ‘fuck you.’”
“Now there’s an idea,” Bucky said, and Steve could almost hear the smirk. “I’ll hold you to that, doll.”
“Shut up and go shoot some bad guys, Sergeant.”
“As you wish, Captain.”
---
Steve Trevor was actually a real swell guy after he got over the initial shock. In fact, he was a lot calmer than Steve expected for a man out of time, but when he asked, all Trevor said was “After war gods and Amazons, there’s not much that can faze you,” which Steve would have believed more if he hadn’t personally fought angry, flaming pixies the size of elephants just last week.
“Were you really a pilot during World War I?” Steve asked after they yanked out all the cushions in the living room couches and started making a mock airplane with them.
“Were you really a genetically modified superhero during World War II?” Trevor responded, and Steve had to roll his eyes.
“Well, I didn’t believe it either until Dr. Erskine put me in a coffin-shaped machine and shot magic juice up my veins.” Steve blinked and dropped the cushion he was holding. “Wait. It was coffin-shaped. Why was it coffin-shaped? Oh my god, Steve, did he expect me to die?”
Trevor shrugged. “Don’t look at me, Steve. You’re the one who lived it.” He paused in his construction of the cushion propeller and exhaled slowly. “When I was at the front during the first war, it felt like the world was ending. I guess I still can’t wrap my head around that fact that we let two of them happen.”
Steve smiled a little. “Diana said the same thing. Sometimes it feels like we never stop fighting.”
Trevor squeezed a pillow between his fingers. “Diana. Diana.”
He said her name a third time without the sound, almost as if he were caressing the word. For a brief second, Steve felt intrusive, as if he were witnessing a very private moment.
“It’s been so long,” Trevor said. “Over a hundred years for her, but for me, it feels like no more than a second.”
“I understand.”
“I suppose you do.” Trevor offered a half-grin. “Does it ever get easier?”
“When you have someone, I find that it does.”
“And does Captain America have someone?”
“Yeah, he-”
Steve froze. The word had tumbled out of his mouth before he considered that Trevor was from a different time, before Steve was even born, and might not understand. When a moment passed, and no explosions of disbelief or rage came, Steve chanced a glance up, only to find Trevor looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to continue.
“He what?” Trevor prompted.
“He- You don’t-?”
Trevor’s subsequent eye roll could put even Clint’s to shame.
“Listen here, Captain. I’m sure you of all people understand that when you’re fighting a war, you find yourself with certain priorities that make you realize that all the other ridiculous things people come up with to occupy their time hating really don’t matter all that much. If Diana taught me anything, it’s that we should believe in love.” He tossed a cushion at Steve, who caught it only out of reflex. “Now, start working on the other wing and tell me about your boyfriend.”
Suddenly, Steve couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He plopped the cushion in place on the other side of the long row they were sitting on. “Alright, Steve Trevor, I’ll oblige- as long as you remember you were the one who asked.”
---
In his defense, Steve was not expecting to get caught when he invited Trevor to see the new helicarriers Tony had commissioned. And he was definitely not expecting Diana and Bucky to show up right when they had discovered a helicopter, and Trevor started poking at the controls.
Steve honestly didn’t know who moved faster, Diana or Bucky.
In an instant, he somehow found himself a good ten feet from the helicopter, a half-enraged, half-horrified Bucky (who was still clad very fetchingly in Kevlar and a small armory) clasping his shoulders firmly.
At the same time, Trevor was suddenly now on the opposite side of the expansive room, and Diana was very clearly and visibly kissing him up against a wall.
Steve coughed and looked away.
“Jesus, Stevie,” Bucky said, still looking more alarmed than Steve had ever seen him, including all the times they had been shot at. “You know how I feel about you and objects capable of flight.”
“I thought you were joking!” Steve protested. “Besides, Sam and Tony can both fly.”
Bucky stared at him. “Yes.”
“And they carry me around all the time when we're fighting.”
Bucky stared harder. “Yes.”
“So- Then- Never mind.” Steve could never win an argument when Bucky got all monosyllabic like that. “You guys are back early.”
“Well, you’d be surprised how easily overtaken a group of Canadian Hydra forces can be when a demigod’s rushing to get back home to her recently undead boyfriend.”
“Diana kicked all their asses?”
“Oh, yeah. It was the hottest thing I’ve seen since the first time I saw you wearing booty shorts.”
Steve felt himself redden. “That’s it. You’re banned from the Internet for the next two months. And should I be worried about Diana stealing my man?”
“Well, judging from the rather graphic noises coming from the other end of the hangar, I’d say you’re safe, pal.”
“Hm, well, Steve Trevor landed on top of me when he fell from the wormhole in the garage earlier.”
Bucky let out a sound that could only be described as a cackle. “Did he? That’s hilarious! I bet you almost killed him.”
“Well-”
“And you were in the garage? Were you playing ‘Give Stark a Heart Attack via Bad Motorcycle Repairs” again?”
Steve huffed. “Aren’t you even a little bit jealous?”
“Of who?” Bucky blinked innocently and actually had the gall to look amused. “Trevor? Steve, really. If you dated Wonder Pilot over there, you’d essentially be dating yourself. And by all means, love yourself, but don’t, you know-” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, because he was an absolute asshole, and Steve didn’t know why he put up with him. “-love yourself.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“Yup, and you’re stuck with me till the end of the line, punk. I ain’t got nothing to be jealous of.”
He looped one of his arms around Steve’s shoulders, and Steve huffed, even as he wormed deeper into the half-embrace. It was easier to do, back when he was smaller, and probably looked like an amazingly awkward position now, but it felt familiar and warm and safe, so he didn’t care.
I love you, Steve wanted to say, and he sounded ridiculously sappy, even to his own ears. But because he was also an unapologetic asshole, he said instead, “I seem to remember you missing ‘my particular brand of righteousness.’”
Bucky’s smirk was even more embarrassing without a phone to hide behind. Steve loved it.
“I seem to remember something like that as well. Besides-” Bucky cocked his head to where Diana was proving that the Amazons were definitely not shy. “-we can’t let those old geezers beat us.”
Steve dug his hands into the folds of Bucky’s uniform and was about to demonstrate how vigorously he agreed with that declaration when-
“Guys?” Tony’s voice yelled from the ceiling. “Is anyone going to deal with the fact that there are now two magic portals in my tower right now?”
Needless to say, everyone ignored him.
Steve smiled against Bucky’s lips. It was a good day.