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Chapter Text

"What the hell do you think you're doing," Tony asked into his comm unit as he flew down to the ground from the top of a rubble heap that was once a school.

Steve stalked towards him and responded angrily, "You know what you did. What we're you thinking pulling a stunt like that?"

Tony opened his face plate and looked around sarcastically, "Saving the day, your self-righteousness. If you didn't notice, I got everybody out alive."

"You got everybody out alive but almost died. If you're going to make such a foolhardy decision you can at least call for back-up!"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Why would I call for back-up when I clearly had everything under control?"

Steve took a step closer until they were just inches away and said quietly, "If everything is under control then why not call? Why risk it? Do you know what would have happened if you hadn't have made it out alive?"

"Oh, Cap, be careful the paparazzi might see our squabble and you'll lose your-"

"Don’t interrupt me. The entire damn team would have rushed in there to try and save you. You have no concept of how much we care about you. One day you are going to make the wrong call and it will end in death. Maybe not yours. Have you ever thought about anybody other than yourself?"

Weariness flashed over Tony's eyes before his calm, cool, and collected facade took its place. "Thanks for the lecture, but sorry if I don't take advice from someone who doesn't even know how to work a telephone."

He quickly closed his faceplate before Steve could speak and flew back to the Tower.

Still furious over Tony's behaviour, Steve walked angrily over to the crowd of children and teachers. He spoke calmly to the teachers, telling them everything was going to be fine and informing them that they would find a replacement facility as soon as possible and the school would be up and running soon, courtesy of Stark Industries. That ought to make him pay, he thought angrily to himself, before walking over to the children.

He took a knee and was soon surrounded by a crowd of sticky faces. He smiled at them and gave them assurances that they would be fine and they would contact parents and all be sent home soon.

He was standing up when he saw a dark brown head bowed over a now crumpled drawing on his hand. He walked to the kid and put a hand on his shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

He felt a tug on his stomach as he saw a tear trailing down the boys cheek.

"Wh-what if you don't have one?"

He gave him a confused look and said, "A what?"

They boy looked scared so he knelt in front of him, trying to make him feel more comfortable.

"If you don't have a home? Or a family?"

Steve was stricken. "We'll think of something won't we? Now, in the meantime, why don't you tell me your name?"

The boy looked up at him with light brown eyes that were brimming with tears and answered, "Peter. Peter Parker."

"Well, Peter, come with me."

Steve stood and took Peter's hand and walked over to a teacher. He quietly asked, "Excuse me ma'am? Could you tell me what this boys living situation is?"

The woman gave him wide eyes and replied quietly, "His parents died two years back. He lost his only family, an aunt and an uncle, in the Chitauri attack. He's been attending the school while he's staying at the orphanage on 42nd street."

Steve felt a wave of sadness as he saw the boy wiping his eyes and watching other kids running to relieved parents.

He took a knee again and sighed inwardly. "Peter, how would you feel if you came and stayed with me in the Avengers Tower?"

Peter looked stunned but skeptical, shrewd in a way that no eight year old should be and it turned Steve's stomach. "Are you serious?"

Steve gave him his best Captain America smile and said, "As serious as I'll ever be."

Peter's face quickly changed from suspicious to a pure unadulterated joy.

He looked serious for a minute and asked, "Would it be okay if we got my things? It's not much, just some clothes and my science kit."

"Of course. Hey, if you're really interested in science, you can talk to the Dr. Banner."

"You mean the Hulk? That would be awesome! His ideas about the Einstein Rosen Bridge are revolutionary!"

Steve gave him a stunned look and smiled ruefully, "Yeah, and if you're interested in mechanics, you might be able to talk to Tony Stark."

Peter smiled wider and said, "This is so cool!"

Steve smiled at him and walked over to Natasha.

"Hey Steve... and company. We have the perimeter locked down with Clint on patrol. We're just waiting for SHIELD to stop sitting on their asses and send agents to assess the damage. Sorry," she said, looking at Peter.

He gave her an awed smile and quickly composed himself before shocking Steve. He stood up straight and took a step towards Natasha and held out his hand.

"Peter Parker. Pleased to meet you Ms. Widow."

She took his hand reflexively and smiled, "Pleased to meet you too, Peter. Please, call me Natasha."

She gave Steve a look that told him he would be explaining later and turned away.

Peter looked at him with a smirk, "I like her."

Steve laughed and steered him to the road to hail a cab. He stuck out a hand but turned when he heard Peter scoff.

"Is there a problem?"

"You're not going to get any cabs like that."

"I've lived in Brooklyn all my life, I know how to hail a cab," he said with a smile. Giving Peter an eyebrow wiggle, he took his shield from behind his back and held it out. In seconds, a cab squealed to a stop beside them.

"I got to get me a shield."

***

The door to the orphanage was a pleasant dark blue, and the interior was a lot nicer than the orphanages that were in New York back in his day, Steve noted. He cringed inwardly as he realised how old he sounded. He could almost hear Tony snarking that he was that old, and it made him feel a twinge. The feeling was familiar and it scared him to the bone. He shook his head and greeted the woman who ran the orphanage.

She was very businesslike and greeted him in return before telling him her name, Mrs. Grey. She then waved him into Peter's room that he shared with two other boys.

Walking into the room he watched Peter pack his meager belongings into a suitcase that had clearly seen better days. He picked up the case and reached with his other hand to grab the large black case that held all of his science kit.

Steve quickly reached forward and grabbed the suit case and the kit before leading him out.

The woman, Mrs. Grey, gave him a stern look. "What do think you're doing?"

He looked between her and Peter flustered before answering, "I'd like to become Peter's...er Peter's-"

"He'd like to become a foster caregiver. His credentials are excellent; he clearly has the means and a suitable residence to become one. Which forms does he need to sign?"

She gave Peter a look of exasperation before leading the pair to her office.

She quickly found the right forms and looked sternly into Steve's eyes before handing him a pen and a stack of very serious looking documents. "I hope you know what you're doing. It usually takes a while to process this kind of paperwork, but I can vouch for you while it's approved. No offense to them, but the government isn't very thourough in background checks. I trust you but I just want you to know that I'll be the one doing random visits to see how Peter is adjusting to his environment."

"Yes ma'am."

He sat down in a soft green sofa and got to work on the papers.

***

By the time he was finished, the sun had already begun to set. He handed Mrs. Grey the forms and after she had scanned through them, she signed where she had to before looking back up.

"Mr. Rogers, I hope that you will give me no reason to regret this. The first visit is on Monday. You have six days to establish sleeping arrangements for Peter. After that, there will be no warnings as to when my visits take place. If you are on the job, so to speak, find someone to watch over him. I don't to see him on the sidelines of a news interview after some disaster, you hear me?"

He nodded quickly and waited for her to stand before rising himself. She gave him a strange look after he held open the door for her before walking them out.

Unsurprisingly, there was a frenzy of reporters at the entrance. Steve gave Mrs. Grey an apprehensive look before she returned it, insulted that he would think that she would call the tabloids.

He said his goodbyes before switching the bags around so he could carry them and hold Peter's hand.

They walked into a sea of flashes and shouts asking him if he was the father. He stepped aside from a particularly persistent man before seeing Happy waving at him from an SUV across the street. He and Peter broke free from the throng and walked as fast as possible to him, watching for passing cars.

They exchanged greetings and hurried introductions as they entered the backseat, only to find Tony sitting across from them.

He tapped at his phone for a minute more before looking up.

"Are you making a habit of picking up strays now?"

Steve gave him an angry look but before he could defend Peter, he spoke.

"Are you making a habit of looking like a pretentious douchebag?"

Stunned by the foul language, Steve looked at him in shock while Tony began to laugh.

"Nice. I'm Tony Stark. Who might you be, shortstack?"

"Peter Parker, and you're one to talk."

"Ouch. Parker? That sounds familiar."

"My father was a scientist."

"Yeah, I think I met him at a conference once. Your father was quite the genius -not as smart as me, of course- but smarter than half of my employees."

Peter gave him a small smile before looking out the window, settling in for the ride.

***

Another crush of paparazzi was waiting for them outside of the tower. Happy opened the door while security guards came out to push them all back.

By the time they got inside of the building Peter was laughing, "Does that happen all the time? Will I be famous now?"

Tony ruffled his hair, smiling at him, "I think so, but the rumours will be crazy."

Peter smiled and turned towards Steve, "Well, Steve, where am I going to sleep? It's already past my usual curfew and I have to sleep if I want to prepare for long hours of signing autoghraphs."

Steve chuckled before a disembodied voice replied, "I have a room prepared for you, Mr. Parker, adjacent to Mr. Rogers' room."

"What was that?"

"Jarvis. AI system built by yours truly," said Tony absently.

"Cool. How did you create his algorithm? Did you base it off to be an assistant or did you model it only to inform people things?"

"I'm insulted. Jarvis' algorithm is much more complicated than that. He's an assistant, a planner, a note taker, and great at giving unwanted advice."

"I'm very flattered, sir."

"Did you program the sarcasm or did you mess up?"

Tony smiled and didn't respond, and winked before walking away.

Steve led Peter to the elevator. He showed him how to use a key card to get to the private floors where the rest of the Avengers lived. As he walked him down one of the many hallways, he pointed out the route to the kitchen

Entering Peter's room he set the cases down and turned to him. Peter was busy looking amazed at the walls. They were covered in blue prints, nothing that was important to Tony, but enough to show that he clearly had a hand in designing the room.

"When did you finish all this?"

"Don't ask me, ask Jarvis."

Peter looked at the ceiling hesitantly, "Uh, Jarvis? When did this happen? Are you psychic or something?"

Jarvis replied, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like it was masking laughter, "We have had this room prepared for weeks. The race car bed was a new addition, added as soon as the reports reached Mr. Stark."

"Thanks, Jarvis," he said.

"You are most welcome."

Steve smiled at Peter's enthusiasm and asked, "Do you need any help unpacking? I could fix you something to eat if you like?"

Peter gave him a disparaging look and said, "Quit mothering me, I can unpack just fine, and I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed as soon as I'm done."

Steve smiled at his sass, walked out, and went inside his own sparse bedroom. The walls were all a boring taupe colour that had occurred after Tony got it in his head that a giant American flag would be perfect for his room.

The only thing in the room besides the bed, night-stand, and dresser was a workstation where he did all of his art. He sat, contemplating his day and remembered with a start that he had forgotten to eat dinner. he stood and walked out into the kitchen, running into Natasha while she put ice cream into a bowl.

"Want some," she asked.

He reached towards the cutlery drawer and replied, "Sure."

Natasha smiled at him and they both crowded around the large marble expanse of the counter, eating straight from the carton, abandoning their bowls.

Within minutes, the ice cream was done and they sat down with sated groans.

Steve recalled something Tony had said earlier that day and asked Natasha tentatively, "Do you know how to work one of those cellular phones? I've been uh, meaning to learn but I- I just haven't had the time."

She smiled at his bumbling and nodded. "Sure. Ill see what I can do about getting you a Stark phone. only the best for you, Cap."

He ducked his head, his cheeks reddening. She stood up and patted his back and called out as she exited, "Tell Peter I said welcome to the family. He's going to need all the help he can get."

He grinned to himself and stood as well. Throwing away the empty carton he started to wash the bowls, ignoring JARVIS' helpful hint at using the dishwasher and walked down the hall. He stopped at Peter's door and opened it as quietly as he could.
He saw a mess of clothes on the ground, Peter slumped on his bed.

Steve snuck in and folded his clothes, placing them neatly in his drawer, happy to do something with his hands. he looked at Peter's calm face and smiled. He reached forward and pulled the blankets over him, tucking him in.
he turned around and was opening the door when he heard a small voice call out, "Thanks, Steve. 'Night."

He answered softly, "Goodnight, Peter."

He entered his room, stretching his arms and settled into his work table. He opened up his sketchbook to a new page, letting his mind wander. He sketched out a pile of rubble, slabs of concrete and bricks scattered about. He soon lost focus and after finishing his drawing, he was shocked to see his alarm clock reading 1 o'clock. He looked down at his sketchbook and realisation dawned on him. He stared at a pile of rubble from the school that had collapsed earlier that day. The only difference from the scene was that lying amidst the debris was Tony, his face blank, his eyes open. Steve felt a wave of fear and horror. He had drawn one of his worst nightmares. Fearing that he was tempting fate by illustrating what could have been a great tragedy, he tore up the sketch, throwing into his garbage can.
He quickly stood, putting away his supplies.

He quickly stripped into his boxers and fell asleep, his face smoothed of all emotion, trying his best to relax after the emotional and physical exhaustion of his day.

Chapter Text

A loud bang woke Steve up from a deep, dreamless sleep. He heard a muffled swear and his door opened. He stilled, waiting for the attack. When the footsteps neared him he jumped into action, grabbing the arm of the intruder.
"Hey, don't get handsy with me. I need breakfast before I go to school and a lunch."
After apologising profusely, he rubbed his hand down his face. "I'm sorry, I've been under a little stress lately. Here, I'll make you lunch if you make us cereal?"
"As long as you put on some clothes. Nice boxers."
Steve blushed bright red and hurried to put clothes on top of his black boxers that were covered in red lips.
They made him think of Tony, the boxers were a moving in gift from him, making his toes curl as warmth filled him. He tried to ignore the feeling as best he could and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
He walked into the kitchen and saw Peter talking to Thor.
"You put these Poptarts inside of the toasting machine? You Midgardians are indeed very clever!"
"You Asgardians aren't bad either. Here you go," Peter said, as he handed Thor a warm Poptart.
Steve made his presence known, walking up to Peter, ruffling his hair
"Hey, don't ruin the 'do. The ladies will be disappointed if I don't look my best. Oh, I couldn't find any cereal, but I did teach thunder boy here how to eat Poptarts the right way."
"You insult me in this way? I am no boy of thunder, I am a man - and a god at that!"
Steve smiled at the pair and sat down. He picked at his poptart, feeling a sense of unease when Clint walked into the kitchen.
"Hey Steve, you're going to want to gear up. Director Fury's gone ape shit and your ass is his next target."
"What did I do," Steve queried.
"Besides the fact that you were filmed yelling at Stark, it would seem that the public doesn't like the idea of a kid being in the hands of someone in such a dangerous line of work."
Peter looked up and nodded at Clint, "Hi. I'm said kid, just wondering, if Steve here is supposed to be the do no wrong, patriotic, red white and blue blooded icon that he is, what's the deal? This place is nicer than any of the other foster homes I've been in."
Clint shook his head sympathetically, "Yeah, what I wouldn't give to have lived in a house this nice growing up. It seems the public is afraid of the influence of an assasin extrodinaire, a green rage monster, and an alcoholic dumbass would do on the delicate mind of a youth."
Steve frowned at Clint and asked, "What do they expect me to do, see all of the backlash and just get rid of him? Peter's a person, not a sweater. What kind of person do they think I am?"
Steve stewed silently in his chair while Clint shrugged at him. He sighed inwardly and stood. He quickly packed a lunch, and told Peter to get ready.
They exited the tower ten minutes later, and were blinded by the flashes of reporters. Steve threw a protective arm over Peter's shoulders and walked quickly, dodging microphones. His ears were ringing from all of the yelling, and he bitterly regretted having enhanced hearing.
When they finally bypassed the crowd, they got into the car. Steve told the driver where the temporary school replacement was and sat back with a sigh, sinking into the buttery leather of the car.
Peter was grinning widely, looking like a mental patient and crowed, "This is so cool! I'm going to school in an Escalade. Do you want to walk me to the gates? A celebrity foster dad is sure to make me popular for the rest of my life."
Steve chuckled, "Okay. Do you want me to buy you anything for your room? Any foods you like?"
"Ice cream. Lots of ice cream. If it's not a bother, a blowtorch, one hundred and fifty square feet of steel plate, adhesives of verying durability, fiberglass, aluminum, copper wires, and insulation. I need to make a science fair project."
Steve gave him a shocked look and replied incredulously, "Since when did you need a blowtorch for a science project? How about we make volcano? Or an ant farm?"
Peter gave him a withering glance, "Please, I was making volcanos when I was three. What I'm making is so advanced it will make every ant farm and mold experiment look like child's play."
"Then what is it?"
"I'm building a to-scale replica of the Soyuz spacecraft. It will have an orbital module, re-entry module, and a service module. Of course, due to patents, I'll have to alter the schematics, but the basic foundation will be similar. I've been hoping to create a working module to actually send into space."
Steve gaped at him openly, "You could do that?"
"Of course. I've been learning the physics and all of the necessary calculations to create it since I was four. I used to use my allowance to buy used college textbooks to practice my equations. Just last year I finalized my blueprints for the design."
Steve sat quietly while Peter gave him a hopeful smile.
"Alright, I'll see what I can do. I'll see if Tony has a spare workshop big enough and if he'll help me find what you need. Just write up a list of what you need."
As Steve finished speaking, Peter was grinning wide enough to crack his face in half. The car rolled to a stop and Peter called out as he exited, "Thank you so much! This is the coolest. I'll mention you in my science fair winning speech. I always thank the little people."
Steve chuckled as Peter ran to the door, hoping that he and Stark could come together to help Peter.

Chapter Text

Spinning. Flying. Falling. The smack against water felt like hitting pavement and still he could feel it. He cried out from the pain, wishing he was unconscious, and swallowed a mouthful of water. His arms were like lead, each motion of clawing at the water, trying to break free of the frigid depths, leached at his energy until he couldn't fight the cold. He shuddered at the familiarity and felt the phantoms of ice filling his lungs. The last thing Steve saw was the still water around him rippling, and the edges of his vision blackening.

***

Steve sat uncomfortably in an SUV, across from Pepper and Tony, still unsure of what was going on.

"So let me get this straight," said Tony to Pepper, "Fury has the balls to command that we visit him? Or did he get his lackey, Agent, to do it for him?"

Pepper rolled her eyes and replied, "Nick called himself, and I still don't understand your inability to call Phil by his name."

"Nick? Since when are you on a first name basis with Fury?"

"Tony, it must be hard to see me moving on without you," she said teasingly.

Tony gave her a grimace and quipped, "As long as you don't 'move on' with my pseudo boss, we're good."

"Did Fury say why he called us or did he just want to say hi? I mean, it has to be something big right," Steve asked, with a glance at Pepper.

"All I know is that Fury wants to see you guys, and he isn't exactly happy."

Steve sat back with a frown on his face and watched the buildings pass by as they drove to SHIELD's impromptu headquarters on Coney Island.

The second the car pulled up, Tony was up and out of the for, making his way to the door with his "I make more money in a day than you do in your entire life" strut and glared at the armed guards as they took a moment to process them through security. Steve put a light hand on Tony's elbow, making him jump from the sudden contact.

"What do you want, Capsicle?"

Steve gave him a pointed look but softened when he saw the bags of exhaustion under Tony's eyes. "Could you please try to be a little civilized? We don't know how much trouble we're in so you have to at least try not to make it worse."

Tony tolled his eyes but got distracted at the close proximity of Steve's body to his. When he noticed that Steve wouldn't look away until he agreed, he nodded at him and opened his mouth like he was about to reply, but shut it with an audible snap, and walked confidently to Fury's office.

The door was open and Steve instantly went rigid when he saw the grim look on his face.

"Sit down. Don't give me that look, Stark."

Tony flopped down into the chair next to Steve and stuck his tongue out at Fury. His childish antics seemed to have no effects on him but Steve could hear the accelerated heartbeat and gave Tony a sharp glance.

"Okay, gentlemen. Now you and I both know that not all of the decisions at SHIELD come from me. The thing is, you two would have been long gone if I hadn't have vouched for you, and now I regret doing that. Now I'm not saying I don't like you guys, but it seems you  attract a shitstorm of attention by just sneezing. Now, Stark," Fury said with a baleful look, "I know that you get a little kick out of being in the press, but please stop goading Rogers into fights. I've seen the videos all  over the internet. For Gods sakes, it's trending all over Twitter that you two are breaking up the Avengers. I don't know about you, but being the next Lennon and Yoko Ono doesn't seem like much fun."

"I resent that. Besides, all I did was make a decision that saved a lot of lives. Lives that might have been lost if Uncle Sam here made them."

"You haven't been in a battlefield, Stark," Steve said quietly, looking at the floor, "When you make those kinds of decisions, they haunt you. I made one of those once. And it lost me more than you could ever imagine. We're more alike than you think and I know that scares you to death."

Tony sat there stunned at the small window into Steve's mind. He pushed himself up from his slouch and turned to him, "If I'm like you, it's a two-way street. You're just as scared as I am."

Fury shook his head at the pair and broke the tension. "If you two need couples therapy, SHIELD would be more than happy to provide. This still doesn't change the fact that the public thinks the Avengers are disbanding and Captain Rogers has a kid that's just gone public."

"Um, with all due respect, your directorness, does the public not get the logic that Capsicle here melted four years ago and Parker's what, eight? Is the education crisis in our country that bad?"

Fury looked skyward in a gesture that could only be interpreted as his last nerve being worn down and replied, "The public thinks we had Cap here melted for longer, keeping him top secret. His little run in Times Square, which the public has footage of, is thought to be him having a breakdown after finding out about his love child."

Steve and Tony both gave Fury identical looks of bewilderment and Fury could only respond with a shrug.

"The fact of the matter is, the majority of the public don't care about you and your new bundle of joy besides offers of providing you with biological children, but the minority are vocal and have positions of power."

"Well what do they want me to do?"

"You see, under most conditions I'd say screw the damn public but right now, placating them seems to be the best option. Their biggest problem is the whole single father deal. With you saving the free world you might not have time to tuck little Peter into bed and read him bedtime stories. They want to see you at least trying to build a household for Peter that upholds the standard of the nuclear family; mom, dad, a kid, and a dog-a happy little family."

Tony smirked and let out a loud laugh, "They want Cap to get laid? Oh my god, Rogers is getting pimped. Are you guys going to do a reality t.v. bit? The Bachelor: SHIELD edition?"

Fury locked his eye on Tony, fixing him with a glare to make even Steve nervous, and said, "You're jealous. The whole country feeds on the fodder that is the life of Tony Stark, screw up extraordinaire. You wish that the media was in your side, wish that they wanted you to be happy."

Tony crossed his arms and grinned, "If I wanted that so badly then I would be going after Cap here. I have enough women saying I fathered their children for this to be a drop in the bucket. If anything I should be giving Steve advice."

"You may be onto something."

"Great, I'll tell Pepper to call my publicists. They work miracles on scandals, especially this one time in-"

"That's not what I was talking about. You got your A.I., JARVIS, right? Can't you make a blind date equation or something to review people he knows for compatibility?"

"It's not that simple. I wouldn't waste a marvel of modern technology when there are perfectly good dating websites."

"You and I both know that isn't an option. Now I'm asking nicely because Pepper is sweet on Steve and will annoy you until you're begging to help find Steve a girlfriend. Now do I make myself clear?"

“You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do. Haven’t you heard? I’m Tony Stark.”

“Haven’t you heard? I don’t give a damn. Do you want me to call Ms. Potts? I have her on speed dial.”

Tony stood with a mischievous glint in his eye and replied casually, "I assume we're done here, Nick. I work on my own terms. The algorithm will be done on my schedule, not your creepy little game show fantasies."

Tony walked out of the room putting on his sunglasses and Steve looked down at his hands before sighing.

“He was my ride.”

Chapter Text

At first it felt like he was still floating. Then he realized that he was somewhere else, somewhere warm, somewhere safe. He tried to open his eyes, do anything to make the quiet voices stop talking. Talking about how long he'd been under. Talking about how much blood he'd lost. Every time he tried to force his eyes open or move his arms his entire body felt like a dead weight. A sudden thought raced through him. What if I'm paralyzed?

The thought made his heart beat uncontrollably, and he could hear the machines attached to him going off.

He could feel pain deep in his arms and it made him cry out silently. The panic brought some semblance of reality to him and he began to open up his eyes.

The ceiling was white; the brightness felt like it was burning his eyes. He blinked a few times and adjusted when he saw a face hovering over him. Quickly, people began to flood the room, checking his machines and buzzing at his state of consciousness. He wanted to ask where he was, if the team was safe, but he couldn't speak.

Soon, the effort of keeping his eyes open exhausted him, and he closed them, closing himself off the pain radiating through his body.

***

A sense of calmness went through Steve as he focused on the pounding of his feet on the pavement. The rush of air into his lungs. The addictive ache of his calves as he pushed himself, going way beyond what his body could have ever done before.

He remembered his first run after the injections, how he had crashed into a wedding shop. He smiled inwardly, wondering how he, a little kid from Brooklyn, ever ended up in the future.

Soon, he was almost back to the tower. Fearing another altercation with the paparazzi, he took a side entrance and making his way up to the kitchen.

He grabbed a granola bar and walked down the hall to his room. Sitting down at his desk he began to sketch, drawing random lines until the pencil began to hit the flatness that felt right and started to draw. He let his hands carry the weight of his stress, his confusion at the new world,  the struggles he used to feel that had returned, in this new foreign city that had come a long  way since what it had been in his day.

He delicately drew in shadows, stabbed angrily at lines, pouring his need for perfection onto the sketchbook. He slowed down as he finished, touching up and cleaning the edges. He smirked when he saw the finished product. Peter in a kid-sized Iron Man suit, with a cocky  grin on his face, looking very much like a young Tony.

He closed his sketchbook, cleaned up the pencil shavings and stretched, his back cramped from stooping over the small workbench.

He considered taking a nap before sighing, putting on workout clothes and heading to the gym.

He walked to the punching bags, letting his anger bleed through into every punch. His mind was numb, everything he did now was an escape. An escape from the past, and escape from the team, an escape from himself.

He heard padding feet behind him and spun. Natasha was standing just feet away with her eyebrows raised.

"If you keep working out like that we won't have any punching bags left."

He gave her a soft smile. "I know. It’s just something to do, you know?"

Her eyes seemed to flash with recognition and gave him a sympathetic look.

Steve's heart skipped a beat. In that moment, Natasha was the spitting image of Peggy. Someone who cared about him in a way that few others had ever done before. It used to only be his mother and Bucky, but after he woke up from the freeze, he got used to the team treating him like family. She looked him over with concern but he just shook his head.

"Want to spar?"

She could tell he was stressed. After a second of pause she responded, "I don't want to beat up a senior citizen, I already have a bad rep with the press." Are you sure? Never thought I'd see the day when Natasha Romanov turned down a fight," he goaded with a sly grin.

She smirked and took off her leather jacket, beginning to stretch. "You asked for this, Rogers."

***

Panting and covered in bruises, Steve and Natasha looked at each other. Without any hesitation they burst into laughter. It started out as chuckles then turned into loud fits of hysterics that only stopped when Clint walked into the gym.

"Nice to see the team bonding," he joked before tossing a glance at Steve. "Peter's getting out of school in half an hour and Stark just offered to pick him up."

Steve grinned at him and replied, running a towel over his sweat soaked skin. "I better stop him. His idea of fun, age-appropriate hobbies are building armed robots."

Natasha waved him off as he left the room. He quickly showered, changing into a t-shirt and jeans, the pants were one of the few things that hadn't changed much with time.

He walked back to the kitchen, eating a snack and called out, "Hey JARVIS?"

"I have a car already on its way, Captain."

He looked at the ceiling, still unsure of how to address the A.I. "Thank you."

"No problem at all, Mr. Rogers, your demands are pretty tame in comparison with Mr. Stark's."

Steve laughed at the sarcasm. "You're a lot funnier than you let on, JARVIS."

"Thank you," he replied agreeably.

Steve left the quiet confines of the floor and walked through the lobby. Due to some miracle of JARVIS, the press had no clue which entrance he was leaving from, moat likely due to an 'anonymous tip' that said he favoured the side door.

He quickly jogged to the waiting car and exchanged a few polite words with the driver. After asking if they could stop at a bakery, Steve stepped out of the car and walked back in with three large trays of donuts.

"Have they been feeding you up in the tower," asked the driver incredulously.

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "Movie night. If Thor gets hungry he'll ransack the kitchen."

All he got was a dry laugh and an uplifted eyebrow before the car was in motion once again.

They pulled up in front of the school and Steve was surprised to see he was almost fifteen minutes early. Not wanting the donuts to spend too long before spending time in Tony's new invention, a box made to keep donuts at 'optimum temperature’, he hopped out to get Peter.

 The second he walked into the building he got mystified stares and stunned double-takes. He felt his face flush when he saw a group of female teachers, and a man or two ogling him.

He rushed to the secretary and asked her where he could find Peter Parker.

She didn't even look up once, just typed in her computer disdainfully and rattled out the numbers. He felt happy for the break from constant attention.

He made his way down the hallway, feeling suddenly unprotected without his shield to provide his with a sense of security. After finding the room, he knocked softly. A woman with burnished red hair like fire, different from his old teacher, answered the door, and exchanged small-talk with Steve until he asked for Peter.

She gave him an unreadable look and spoke softly. "If you need any advice on how to deal with Peter's outbursts feel free to call me. I grew up in a foster home, and with his past, he's going to have some pretty big issues to sort out."

She handed him a sticky-note as Peter walked up to him. He gave her a genuine smile and waved goodbye as he and Peter strolled out of the room.

"Not even in my class five minutes and you already got my teachers number? Captain America, you sly dog."

Steve smirked and ruffled his hair, ignoring the petulant remarks about his 'beautiful fauxhawk'.

When they were finally settled in for the ride home Peter sniffed the air and turned to Steve. "Donuts? For me? You shouldn't have."

They sat back and ate three donuts each, Peter looking like he was suffering from the beginnings of a stomachache. Steve smiled at his complaining but asked the driver to stop at a drugstore for some Pepto-Bismol.