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"Steven James Barnes, what have I told you about leaving your schoolbag on the kitchen counter?"
Uh-oh, full use of name.
"Um... Not to do it?"
"Damn straight. Come get it, squirt." Steve sighs, marking his page, shutting his book and rolling off the couch, landing in a crouch before straightening and following his mother's directives.
At seventeen years old, Steve has attitudes and looks mixed and matched from both parents; the almost-black-brown hair and blue eyes from his ma; the lanky build and strong jawline of his dad. The smirk on his lips may be a carbon copy of his father's, but the words that leave them have undertones of his mother's sarcasm mixed in with his own dry humor.
At seventeen years old, Steve believes he has one hell of a family.
He takes his bag from the counter, pressing a kiss to his mother's cheek. Darcy rolls her eyes and flaps her hand at him. "No sucking up, kid. Doesn't get your pa anywhere, and it sure as shit ain't gonna work with you."
It's what Steve loves about his mom. She treats him like an adult, but like a teenager at the same time. She says it's because her generation was treated like inept children, but he just shrugs and tells her he loves her all the same. She'd been relatively young when she had him, so they got along well-- better than any other boy at school got along with his mother.
His father isn't old (well, he is somewhere along pushing the hundreds, but simply looks to be in his early fourties) and though Steve gets along with his father great, it isn't the same as with his mother. She says it's because his dad's gone through a whole lot, and the effects were all still there. Steve knows, he's seen them.
There was a night, when Steve was fourteen years old, where he heard distressed sounds from his parents' bedroom. He'd opened the door just slightly, only to be greeted with the sight of his dad sobbing into his mother's shoulder while she stroked his hair and soothed him gently. Tears tracked her cheeks and there was a trail of blood dripping from her lip.
"Darce-I-I... I'm so-sorry-I-" His dad couldn't even form proper sentences as he clutches Darcy tight to him and tries to catch his breath, "I miss him-I miss him--"
"I know, James" Her voice is quiet, but it doesn't waver or shake, "I miss him, too."
The next morning, Steve had enquired about his mother's split lip and his father's absence. "Your pa went to go see uncle Bruce about some things." Darcy ruffled Steve's hair as she refilled his glass with juice. "He's been having some trouble sleeping, and uncle Bruce can help him."
"What happened to your lip?" Steve's voice cracks halfway through, and he frowns, even as Darcy tries not to grin at it. Steve hated puberty. He repeats the question, voice remaining even this time, and an unreadable look crosses her face for a fraction of a second before she smooths his hair out with a reassuring smile.
"He had a nightmare last night. I rolled out of the way until he could calm down, but I knocked into the nightstand. Typical Darcy, huh?"
"... nt Tasha's place later-- Steve?" His mother's voice brings him out of his thoughts, and he looks down (loved teasing her about her height, his short little mom ) with a confused look on his face and a "huh?"
"You mean excuse me? " She says pointedly, and he bows his head apologetically-- both his parents are big on manners. "S'wrong, kiddo?"
"Wrong?" He asks, dropping his bag by the counter (not on it, mom) as he turns to face her fully. She raises an eyebrow, and his shoulders slump. He can't lie to his mom. "Where's dad?"
"Down at uncle Tony's workshop, fixing his arm. Don't start with the misdirection, mister." She scolds him as she starts taking the plates out of the dishwasher, and he huffs out a laugh.
"It's like you have a bullshit detector." Steve says mildly, and she looks vaguely proud of herself for a moment before fixing him with the look. He sighs. "I just... I was doing some research today. And I wanted to ask you two something. About-- About Uncle Steve."
The plates in her hand drop to the floor and shatter loudly.
Steve flinches and steps back as she curses, and he notices her hands are shaking. "Mom?"
"Go get the broom." Her voice wavers too, and he doesn't argue and goes to find the broom as she kneels and starts to pick up the larger shards and tosses them in the bin. When he's out of sight, she speaks softly.
"Jarvis?"
[ Yes, Miss Lewis? ]
"Is Tony almost done with James?"
[ I believe so, Miss Lewis. Would you like me to pass on a message? ]
"Just-- Just tell James that Steve asked."
[ Of course, Miss Lewis. And shall I put in an order for new plates? ]
"Thank you, Jarv."
[ Not a problem, Miss Lewis. ]
"Mom?" Steve returns, handing her the broom and watching her sweep up the remanants of the plates. "I-- Don't worry about it."
"No, Steve, it's fine." She finishes sweeping up the shards and leans the broom on the counter, taking his hands in her own. "It's okay. It just took me by surprise. After dinner, okay? When your pa's here and... We can talk things through properly." She presses a kiss to his forehead, and he smiles uncertainly down at her. "Now go shower. You stink like high school." And that gets him laughing and rolling his eyes as she gives him a smile.
"Darcy?" As soon as James walks in, he wraps his arms around her. Jarvis had mentioned she was pretty shaken up, and Tony had reattached his arm and told him to go, the work could be finished tomorrow. She sighs shakily, pressing her face into his shirt, clutching on to him tight. "He asked? He found out?"
"Somehow. He said he was doing some research and that he wanted to ask us about Steve." She mumbles into his shirt, face pressed against the two sets of dog tags, both Steve's and James'. He takes a deep breath, stroking her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
"S'gonna be okay, Darcy-doll. S'gonna be okay."
Dinner was a quiet affair.
Darcy keeps her eyes locked on her plate.
Steve doesn't look at his mother.
James attempts to make small talk with his son, but it's pretty clear that Steve doesn't want to talk about his day at school or baseball practice.
Pretty soon, James has had enough of the silence.
"So what did you wanna ask, Steve?" He says casually, and Darcy's fork clatters against her empty plate. James reaches over and takes her hand in his flesh one, thumb rubbing gently over the back of her hand. Steve hesitates, before standing and going to his school bag. He digs through it for a moment, before pulling out a few papers. When he returns, he hesitates again before handing them to his father.
"Was... Is any of this true?"
James takes the papers with a furrowed brow, as he flips through them. They're archived articles, printed in black and white, but he recognizes them clear as day.
CAP'S MYSTERY GIRL
MYSTERY GIRL SPOTTED WITH CAP'S BEST FRIEND
CAPTAIN AMERICA AND WINTER SOLDIER'S TORRID LOVE AFFAIR?
A LOVE TRIANGLE FOR THE DECADES: CAPTAIN AMERICA, THE WINTER SOLDIER AND THEIR MYSTERY GIRL
CAP AND THE WINTER SOLDIER'S MYSTERY GIRL REVEALED
Accompanying most of the articles were pictures that made Darcy clutch James' hand tighter. She hadn't seen them in so long. Pictures of her and Steve at the Met, of her and James on the subway, of Steve and James lying in the park with James head on Steve's stomach, sleeping in the sunshine. Pictures of her arm in arm with both of them at Coney Island.
"Mom? Dad?" Steve asks, and Darcy doesn't look up at him, eyes locked on the articles.
"Where did you find these?" James asks, and Steve desperately hopes his dad isn't mad.
"Uncle Thor mentioned somethin' about Mom and Uncle Steve in the papers to Aunt Jane. I didn't hear it but I... I wanted to know what he was talking about." He looks down at his hands, head bowed. "Is any of it true, dad? Was there... a thing between you and uncle Steve? or mom and uncle Steve?"
"Yes." It's Darcy who answers, and Steve's head shoots up. "It was all three of us, sweetie. Your dad, me and uncle Steve. We were in a relationship." Steve's shoulders slump, and he's got a look of disbelief on his face. "James, can you get Steve's sketchbook. The last one."
James stands, pressing a kiss to her head, and leaves the room. Darcy speaks before Steve can. "I know it's hard to believe, sweetheart, but I loved them both. I couldn't tear them apart, and I couldn't live without them. They couldn't be apart again. It was... mutually beneficial for us to stay together."
"But then..."
"Then Steve died. On a mission. Your dad was with him when he died." Her voice is quiet and subdued, and Steve remembers that night when he was fourteen years old again. "I was waiting for them, and only James came back. That's why it's a sensitive topic for us."
"Here." A leatherbound sketchbook is placed in front of him, and Steve looks up at his dad. "He was somethin' of an artist, your uncle. Everytime the three of us would go out, he'd tell us to sit still and he'd start drawing. He filled up so many books, but this was his last one. It was with him when he died."
James' expression is a mix between sad and resigned, but there was some sort of affection there. Hesitantly, Steve flips open to the first page.
It's a drawing of his mom. She's sitting on a pier, head thrown back in laughter as she points at something in the distance. She looks so much younger and carefree. "That's from when uncle Tony took us all to Italy. James was playing volleyball with Uncle Thor." Darcy says fondly, and Steve flips to the next page.
"That's from Steve's birthday." James explains quietly. It's Darcy leaning against Steve's chest, both looking up the artfully shaded fireworks in the distance. "I took the picture, but Steve wanted to draw it."
The next drawing is a recreation of the picture of James and Steve from the article. Steve's lying on his back on the grass, a hand pillowing his head and his glasses covering his eyes. His other hand is tangled in James' hair; James is lying with his head on Steve's stomach, eyes closed and a content look on his face.
The next page is one of Darcy curled up between Uncle Steve and his dad, and Steve has to close the sketchbook.
His parents had never looked happier than in that picture.
"So... So I was named after him because--"
"Because we loved him. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't love your mother as much as I would." James says quietly. He lifts the second set of dogtags from around his neck and holds them out to Steve. "Because he's the reason I'm here right now. The reason you're here."
Steve takes the dogtags, looking down at the battered tags in his palm.
R O G E R S , S T E V E N G .
"Because he was the best thing to happen to us. And so are you." Darcy says softly, and after hearing all the heartbreak his parents have been through, Steve stands, dogtags in hand, and wraps his arms around his mom. After a few moments, his dad follows suit, pressing kisses to both Darcy's head and his own.
He wishes he could've met his Uncle Steve, that his family could've been bigger, and maybe tomorrow he'll ask if they can go to the cemetery, but for now, he's content. That his parents don't lie to him, that his parents love him so much, that his family is small and good.
At seventeen years old, Steve's sure he's got one hell of a family.