Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve Rogers doesn't have very many friends.

It's sort of sad to admit out loud. He's Captain America! Head of the Avengers, savior of the world a few times over, America's poster boy. Perhaps that's why he doesn't have anyone outside his team-- he's hard to approach outside of asking for an autograph or selfie, untouchable in the eyes of the many. Finding someone genuine would be a shot in the dark this far into the game. Sure, he's got the rest of the Avenger's and he loves them, but it's... different. They're family, but they're also coworkers. Sometimes Steve can't help but feel a tad lonely, finding himself wistfully wishing he knew someone outside the madness that was his superhero life.

He's met a few people. He's a social guy, if not a little behind the times. There's a sort of awe, though, that exists in just about everyone Steve meets. A worship that separates him and them, placing Steve on a pedestal nobody else can reach. He wishes it were different. At his core, he's really just a man. Just a regular dude, with regular hobbies. It would be nice to have someone who knew that side of him. Who wanted to be around him, not for his heroic deeds and superhuman abilities, but for his personality and interests. It's a lot to ask, him being in the position he is. He supposes he signed up for it when he agreed to take that serum. 

Is Steve being selfish? Maybe he's being selfish. He has a good life. He's got more money than he knows what to do with-- Captain America merchandise sells well and saving the world pays as well as one would suspect. He's famous. He doesn't really have to work much. It's not like aliens are attacking monthly, or terrorist organizations are using otherworldly tech to blow civilians up every other week. There are missions, but they're not daily. It leaves him with more downtime than he knows what to do with, and no one to spend it with.

Tony's got tech to build, Natasha's got missions of her own, Clint's got a family, Sam's got a life outside work, Thor's a god, Bruce does scientist things 24/7, Rhodes has a job, Wanda and Vision are in love, and Bucky needs his alone time or he'll snap and probably crush Steve's skull like a watermelon. Bucky's his friend and Steve adores him, but he's not the same man who used to pull him out of back-alley fights in the 40's. Steve doesn't have... anything, really, to captivate his attention. Or rather, there's nobody for him to share what matters most to him with.

The super soldier sighs quietly, sniffing and looking down at the sketchbook in his lap. It carefully depicts the park in front of him, each pencil stroke precise and placed with care. Sometimes he finds himself exploring New York, driving for hours upon hours at times just to find somewhere new. Today has brought him to Queens. It's different than he remembers it, yet somehow still unshakably the same. It gives him something to do and his oddly cathartic. It's easy to get lost in his artwork. At the very least, it kills the time. Gets him out of the tower and doing something aside from wallowing in his own insatiable loneliness.

Steve shakes his head a bit, gripping his pencil with newfound purpose. Right. He's not here to dwell on the friends he does or doesn't have. It's a nice day out. Really, the weather couldn't be anymore perfect. Maybe after this he'll treat himself to some breakfast food. It's the middle of the day, but there's bound to be a diner around here somewhere that does it round the clock. He'll be eating by himself, but he eats a lot anyway, so it'll take him longer. It makes complete sense. Anyone else would be left waiting for him to finish gorging himself, and you can't talk with your mouth full, so--

"Whoa!" The chime of an awed voice breaks Steve out of his train of thought and fills him with a sense of absolute dread. He deftly looks up with a smile plastered on his face nonetheless, ready to be Captain America, but is stunned to see the stranger's eyes aren't on him. No, he's looking at the sketchbook. "Did you draw that?!"

The boy looks amazed and excited, still taking the art in. The boy is young and reminds Steve of himself from before, wiry and not very tall. He's wearing a shirt too big for his frame, with a nerdy science pun on it that Bruce would probably laugh at. Brown hair curls in haphazard waves, sticking up in odd directions and making the boy look even younger. It's his eyes, though, that really get Steve. He feels like the airs been punched out of him. There's a lot of wonder there. It's innocent and soft around the edges, and real. 

Steve blinks at him once. Twice. He looks down at his sketch, registering the question he was just asked a bit belatedly. Of all the things he'd expected to hear out of the kid's mouth it... hadn't been that, honestly. He's Captain America. Nobody asks about anything aside from that. At least, not until now. Steve feels surprisingly shy all of a sudden, but something in him explodes at the same time. Child, teen, adult, elder-- none of it matters. This boy is interested in his art. His art. When has... when has this ever happened? Has it ever happened?

"I-I, uh, yes?" Steve hates that it comes out as a question. He watches with no small amount of bewilderment as the boy flushes, gaze pulling away from the drawing and the beginnings of slight mortification making itself known on his face. He looks notably embarrassed and like maybe he hadn't meant to blurt the inquiry out, staring at Steve with big brown eyes that scream panic. The boy grins, nervously, and Steve can't stop himself from smiling back. It's such an genuine sight. Steve knows already that his week has just been made. 

There's a slight sense of panic that fills him, however. Something in him very firmly instructs him not to scare this boy off on accident. Why, Steve isn't sure yet. But he listens anyway, doing his best to make himself seem smaller and therefore less intimidating. 

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you. It just-- it looks really good, sir. I think you might be even better than my friend MJ. But, uh, d-don't tell her I said that." The boy sputters out. He takes a small step back, sheepish. Steve watches the kid awkwardly scratch the back of his neck, looking like he's about to melt into the sidewalk. "I really didn't mean to pry, or look, o-or bother you. Sir." 

The boy gives a slight, apologetic sort of bow that's so endearing it makes Steve feel impossibly fond out of nowhere. Steve laughs a little, feeling like he's been made brighter by this one encounter alone. The kid looks like he has no idea what to do with himself, his doe eyes pulled back towards the drawing in Steve's lap despite himself. His clumsy politeness the kid displays once again reminds Steve of himself growing up. He wonders if this boy jumps in front of bullies for the sake of others too. He gives off that vibe-- takes one to know one. Steve hasn't felt this happy in a long time. Which is pathetic, considering he has no idea who this is and has known him for all of two seconds, but you know. 

"I really don't mind. Thank you for the compliment." Steve beams, and the boy's cheeks flush further. Steve angles the drawing so that he can see it better when the teen's eyes flicker to it again. Steve doesn't often feel flattered, but seeing someone so genuinely interested and amazed by something he made makes his heart thump a few beats faster. "I... I have a few others, if you'd like to look. Though I'm not sure how good they actually are."

Suddenly, he's the one feeling flustered and insecure. The kid was just being nice, but now he was going to feel incredibly pressured to say yes. Steve doesn't really show people his art. He's not sure why he's offering now-- to a child, no less. Maybe it's because of the initial compliment, or maybe it's the spark in the boy's eye every time he glances at Steve's drawing. He looks at it like he's trying to greedily drink it in. Steve used to be the same way. Artwork drew him like a moth to a flame, and he'd spend hours soaking in every line and texture. He'd try to memorize whatever work he saw, no matter the quality or medium. 

"W-Wait, really? Are you sure?" The kid asks, and Steve feels the pit of warmth in him widen at the hesitant excitement and anticipation on the kid's face. In invitation, Steve scoots over slightly and pats a spot on the bench he'd commandeered for himself. The brunette scrambles over, clearly bashful but eager nonetheless. His wild bangs flop into his eyes, and he hurriedly pushes them back as he plops down with a respectable amount of space still between them. Steve turns the book towards him with more readiness than he'd expected of himself. The teen is pretty much bouncing, and Steve feels like he could maybe bounce too. "Thank you! I'm sorry again, I-- I'm Peter! Peter Parker!" 

He holds out his hand, face flaming but eyes so painstakingly open that Steve can't stop himself from feeling charmed. He feels well and truly delighted, a pleased hum forming in the center of his chest. Peter is polite, and Steve can see the honesty rolling off the kid in waves. He knows he's good a good kid just looking at him. Steve has a sense for this sort of thing, he likes to think. He's not sure why he's being so inviting to someone he just met. This is a stranger whom he knows absolutely nothing about, but his interest is so invigorated and present. The first thing he'd looked at hadn't been Captain America. It had been Steve's art.

"Nice to meet you, Peter." Steve grins. He grasps his hand and is pleased to find the kid's got a firm shake. "My name's Steve. Do you like art, son?"

Peter beams back at him and seems to relax a little at the introduction and question, and that's when it hits Steve right between the eyes. His own giddiness ramps up, which embarrassing, but he can't help it. Because right now? There is not a single bit of hero worship in this kid's eyes. Steve doesn't like to toot his own horn, but he's also Captain America. He's a hit with pretty much every age group out there, and he can tell right away that Peter doesn't recognize him at all. This kid is here talking to Steve. Just Steve. About art that Steve did, that he coincidentally saw, that he likes. 

How pitiful is he right now? He's over the moon that a teenager is talking to him. Normally it's entirely the other way around. Steve doesn't want to be a creep, but this is unprecedented. A new experience in uncharted territory. Ever since waking up after the ice, he's been Captain America. This is the first time he's been just Steve. Even if it's to a kid who looks like the sun when he smiles, it's something. Like a breath of fresh air he hadn't realized he needed. When was the last time he felt like this? 

"It's nice to meet you too, sir! A-And yes, I really do. I'm not very good at it myself, but seeing the things that other people create is just so... so cool. Like, you just used your brain and made that. With a pencil!" Peter scooted a little closer, eyes wide as though he were trying to convince Steve to see his point. He gestured to Steve's drawing with purpose. "It's awesome. You just walked over here, sat down, and then drew that! And it looks perfect!"

"It's not that good." Steve laughs, good natured. The kid doesn't budge. He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes and meeting Steve's blue ones with determination that apparently overrides whatever anxiety the kid was feeling before. Steve's smile softens, and he glances down at his park depiction idly. "Perfect's a strong word, but I'm flattered. It means a lot." 

"Mr. Steve." The kid says firmly. Steve breaks out with a grin, because oh my god. Mr. Steve. Who even is this kid, and where did he come from? "You need to give yourself more credit. I was stopped in my tracks. I never talk to strangers, but I literally couldn't stop myself! I would buy that for so much money. Like, with real dollars, sir. You could submit that to a gallery and they'd frame it in one of those fancy golden plaster ones, and it would look totally justified. Rich people would come by and nod at it and then bid obscene amounts on it. And it would hang in their hallway and guests would come stare at it and nod too at parties, and--"

The kid's adorable and absolutely heart-warming dump of praise is cut off by the sound of ripping. His mouth closes so fast Steve can hear his teeth clack together even without his enhanced senses, and he offers the paper towards him with a smile that makes his cheeks hurt. He feels bubbly, like his insides have been turned to honey. He has no idea who Peter is or where he came from, but Steve is so happy right now. Insane levels of happiness. Forget his week being made, this is an encounter that'll have him feeling exuberant for the rest of his life whenever he thinks back on it. 

"Here." He offers. The kid stares at the paper with big eyes but doesn't take it, even when Steve gives it a little shake. "No real dollars required, son. I'm not sure anyone's made me feel as talented as you just did. Pretty sure my ego just got around ten times bigger. It'll just sit and gather dust in my sketchbook otherwise. It'd make me happy to know someone who appreciates it has it."

"Is this real?" Peter asks, and Steve laughs. The kid reaches up carefully, cradling the paper like it's made of gold. He gawks at it, and then at Steve. His brown eyes are still open and still honest, which only makes his endless stream of praise hit harder. Steve doesn't actually know this kid, but he loves him. The same way you love a puppy when you see it, because it's a puppy, and how could you not? "I-I can't possibly accept this! You spent valuable time making it, and I'm just some random kid who decided to bother you! Which, sorry about that. I really didn't mean to. That's totally not the point. Actually, no, it kind of is. There's no way I can take it!"

"Well, I don't want it." Was Steve grinning too much? Steve was pretty sure he was grinning too much. "I saw a trashcan not too far from here, if you want to--"

Peter jerked away from Steve, horrified. 

"Never mind. I'll cherish it for the rest of my life and frame it. It'll be a family heirloom for generations to come." Peter rushed out, drawing the picture closer as though afraid Steve would snatch it away and dispose of it himself. Steve let out another laugh at the scandalized look on the kids face. "You're a horrible person, Mr. Steve. Absolutely horrible."

Steve laughed again, and the kid broke out into another smile, this one just as big as the last. Steve had forgotten what it felt like to have fun like this. To joke around and laugh without any worry. It felt great, and the ball of loneliness that normally sung in his chest quieted under the attention. Peter was impossible not to like, all natural charisma and earnest grins. Steve found himself shamefully wishing this moment could last forever. Which is sad, and stupid, and again, pathetic... but Peter is talking to Steve. And hardly anyone ever talks to Steve. 

"I try, I try." Steve says easily. He glances down at his sketchbook and bites the inside of his cheek, hesitating only briefly before he flips the page back one. Is he getting ahead of himself? Is Peter forcing himself because he's just too nice of a kid to admit he wants to leave? Did Steve rope him into this against his will by mistake? This kid probably has a million other things he could be doing, but instead he's sitting with Steve on a bench looking at scribbles. "I have a few others, if you want to see them."

He glances at Peter and has to do a doubletake. Peter's gaze is trained on the sketchbook, expression shockingly unreadable. Steve raises a brow as the kid slowly turns to look him dead in the eyes. The sudden flip makes Steve want to burst out laughing, because the firm expression Peter now sports really does look out of place on such a soft face. 

"Mr. Steve." Peter says in all seriousness. Steve snorts a bit as the kid leans closer. "Is that actually the Death Star, or am I hallucinating?"

Steve, grinning wider still, is suddenly glad he'd followed Sam's chronological 'catch up' list of things to watch. Especially when the kid starts bombarding him with questions about how much of a Star Wars fan he is. After all, the more trivia he knows, the longer the conversation will last. Right?

Chapter Text

Peter Parker doesn't have very many friends.

He has Ned and MJ, and he adores them with every ounce of his being. They're enough-- really, they are! MJ is a silent supporter who defends him from his bullies and reminds him not to be too stupid, and Ned is someone he can geek out with about just about anything, who has his back no matter what. They're two of his favorite people in the world next to Aunt May, but they're just that-- two people. They have lives and that means their respective Spring Breaks aren't nearly as free as Peter's are. Which is perfectly fine! Just... lonely sometimes. Nothing Peter can't handle, though!

A part of him wants to go on patrol, but he knows deep down that he can't stray too far from his regular schedule. If he started running around during the day and then stopped when school started again, someone could make a connection with his age. That was really the last thing Peter needed. The moment the media started assuming he was anything less than an adult was the moment suspicion fell on him, because really, how had his Decathlon team not found out yet? If he didn't keep up, his infamous Parker Luck was bound to catch him eventually. 

So, he'd gone to the park. May had work, MJ was in Florida and Ned had gotten carted off to Coney Island for the week. It was sort of nice to stroll around and take in the sights. Queens was his home and he loved it, even if it was a little grimy even at the best of times. He hadn't really expected to talk to anyone, let alone make a friend out of the trip. He's a pretty shy dude, and an annoying one to boot. He just couldn't help himself, and now he's gotten himself sort of attached.

Before you start rolling your eyes, you really can't blame Peter for this one! Mr. Steve is cool. Like, really cool. His art is amazing and Peter really has no idea how he can possibly downplay it so far without seeing how wrong he is. Peter had spent the better part of an hour gushing over all the man's sketches, gawking and taking photos with the permission of the older man so he could show them to MJ and Ned later. Mr. Steve was nice and seemed genuinely happy to talk to him. Maybe even a little excited too, which was great, because Peter's excited too! It's not everyday you meet a cool adult. 

Mr. Steve's a New York native, but there'd been a long period of time in which he hadn't lived there. He'd moved back only recently and was readjusting to the area. He hadn't really met many people, he'd explained to Peter when the teen had asked whether or not he was taking up to much of his time. His work was freelance and left him with little to do, so he sometimes walked around to explore. Most New Yorkers weren't as approachable as Peter was. Steve had grinned and told him how happy he was to meet him, and that was really it. Mr. Steve fell into the designation of 'friend' smoothly after that.

They have a lot in common. More than you'd think looking at their age gap, but Peter had dug the information out of him and was in a state of mild shock. Favorite food? They both love spaghetti. Favorite Star Wars movie? Empire strikes back, because they both have taste. Favorite color? Navy blue and red, which um, hello. Favorite baked good? Apple pie, obviously. Biggest pet peeve? When people look down on others, because there's nothing worse than that. Peter was all but vibrating in his seat. He's not sure how long its been but there's so totally a spark here, and he knows Mr. Steve feels it too. They were meant to run into each other. This is the definition of fate!

Being able to talk and talk and talk to someone for hours on end without tiring is rare. Agreeing on everything and having such similar tastes is even rarer. Peter has no idea how they're matching up so well, but he's glad. Mr. Steve isn't very good at hiding how lonely he is. Peter isn't very good at it either, seeing as he's just spent the evening sitting on a bench with a man he just met, the two of them going back and forth like a pair of excited school children exchanging information and giggling over the similarities. He has no idea how Mr. Steve isn't super popular. He's jacked, really nice, and a super good dude. That's not as common as you'd hope; especially not in New York.

"You've never had a churro?" Peter asked, flabbergasted. Absolutely appalled. Steve laughed, fuller and brighter than he had when Peter first got here. He'd watched the guy sort of bloom open like a flower, if that makes any sense at all. Probably not, but it clicks in Peter's mind. Mr. Steve needs some socialization in his life. Peter had originally feared he was maybe irritating the man, but that definitely wasn't the case. Mr. Steve's expression was to honest and readable. Peter would know in a heartbeat if he was annoyed.

"Never." Steve grinned at him. "Are they good?"

Peter gave him a wide-eyed look. Steve started to laugh again, hard enough that he started to snort a little just like Peter did when he got too worked up. Peter clapped a hand down on Steve's arm, pity overtaking his features. It only made Mr. Steve laugh harder, since clearly he doesn't understand the gravity of the situation. Adults. Do they just lose the ability to pick up on these things as they age?

"Are they good?" Peter repeated, incredulous. Steve tried to look at his face but started to laugh again, which was offensive but not at the same time. He looked like he needed to let loose a little. He'd looked really sad when Peter first came up. "Mr. Steve, I don't mean to overstep or push you into anything, but I'm pushing you into something. There's a churro stand right around the corner and you're coming with me to try one. I don't know what kind of life you've been living before, but the fact that you don't know what Brooklyn Nine-Nine is tells me a lot."

"Ouch. Going for the jugular, aren't you, kid?" Steve chuckled, moving to stand up eagerly. He felt full and fuzzy. Time had stopped crawling and was now flying by in a flurry of conversation and laughter, and Steve hadn't felt this content since his time in the war when he was surrounded by his friends. He and Peter were so alike it hurt, and being around him felt like orbiting the sun just a little. He was a good kid, taking time to sit down and talk to an old man like him. "Well, if we're getting churros, they're on me!"

"What? No! I brought it up, it's on me, Mr. Steve!" Peter leapt up, but Steve was already briskly walking in the direction he'd seen the stand. Mr. Steve pointedly didn't spare him a glance, even as he scrambled to follow. Peter almost tripped a few times, backpack thumping against his back hard and drawing still held delicately in hand. Peter rushed to catch up, narrowing his eyes up at the man. "Are you ignoring me right now? I thought you were supposed to be the adult in this situation!" 

"I'll race you." Steve offers, and then he takes off like hell is on his heels. Does hanging out around teenagers make you feel like one again? Or is this a Peter Parker Exclusive side effect? He's not sure he really cares. It feels wrong to indulge the way he is, but he can't help himself. Peter wants to hang out with Steve, and Steve wants to hang out with Peter. Is it so wrong if he does? Peter is relatable, and hilarious, and truly good. Steve can smell it. 

He wonders if he should stop, but he's figured he's too far ahead. He and Peter have clicked. It's... weird, a teenager and a grown man who have no relation to one another whatsoever hanging out, but Steve knows he doesn't have any bad intentions so it doesn't bother him much. It just doesn't feel like a big deal. Age is such an odd concept for him-- he's like, 98 or something, technically. Who knows. Nothing in this new modern world makes much sense in his dated mindset. Realistically, he should probably be hanging out with old timers.

"Menace!" Peter shouts after him, but the sound of feet pounding on concrete makes Steve grin. It reminds him of the days when Bucky would chase him through back alleys trying to get him to go home and take his medicine. The thought makes him run faster.

~

Peter pulls ahead of him, which really should... not be physically possible whatsoever. Steve almost trips and wipes out right then and there when the kid tears past him, giving him a cheeky wink as he does. Steve has only a brief moment to wonder if this is what Sam used to feel like when they both shared the same jogging route at the park before he's forcing himself to go faster. Is his super soldiery-ness failing him? Is he going to keel over and have an asthma attack right here and now? Peter's fast-- insanely so. Steve feels proud and strangely offended. 

Sometimes you meet someone and it feels like you've known them for years. If someone came up to Steve right now and told him that Peter was his blood relative, he wouldn't be surprised at all. The kid is too much like him. Scrawny, determined, and not afraid to rise to the challenge. Sassy, too. It awakens some spark in Steve that he'd honestly thought had died when he fell in that ice. 

His shock is wiped out by a wave of competitiveness when he sees Peter all but throw himself at the churro cart, eyes a little wild and hair even messier than before. Steve approaches at terminal velocity as Peter scrambles to get his wallet out of his pocket. The kid doesn't even look out of breath, which should be more concerning than Steve losing a race is. Peter seems to realize he's going to be a sore loser about it if his frantic scramble to get his money out is anything to go off of. Steve's adrenaline clouds the adult, hero part of his brain that tells him to calm down and be mature about this.

"Two churros! Two of them! On me! I'm paying for them, ma'am! Me, not him!" Peter manages to blurt out just as Steve comes up behind him. He bodily wraps an arm around the kid's middle and pulls him back before he can think twice about it. Peter shrieks, kicking his legs wildly and trying to twist out of his grasp as Steve shakes a wad of bills from his wallet. Said wallet falls to the ground in the process, but he's too busy throwing the money at the stunned churro-seller to care. Peter wails like he just lost his last friend. "No! Don't take it!" 

A stark strike a fear rushes through Steve when he realizes that he just manhandled a teenager he met literally only a few hours ago, but its wiped out by Peter driving his elbow backwards three consecutive times into his side. He feels his breath leave him because wow, this punk packs a punch. But Peter's done so much for him already, so there's no way Steve can let him pay for the churros. Race lost or not, this is a battle he won't fall to.

"Take it!" Steve shouts right after, grunting when the kid stomps on his foot. Peter lunges to scrabble for the money, throwing his own onto the stand's little counter as well. Steve pulls him back again, swiping for the money but coming up short when Peter yanks him back by his arm and sends him stumbling backwards. The kid carefully sets his drawing down on the churro counter before spinning around to tackle Steve down again, sending them rolling into the grass.

Steve trains all the time with the other Avengers, but this is the most challenging wrestling match he's ever taken part in. Peter is scary flexible and very willing to use dirty tricks to advantage. Steve can't stop himself from grinning, especially when he sees the beaming smile on Peter's face and the competitive glint in his eyes. When was the last time Steve did this? He feels like a Howling Commando again for the very first time since being back. This day really has made his entire life, which is made funnier by the fact that he's bodily chucking a teenager in a park. If he tried to tell anyone this was how his day went, there's no way they'd believe him.

Said teenager can roll to absorb impact and hardly seems phased by Steve's more pushy moves, meeting him with twice as much force. Maybe kids are stronger in this new age? Clearly they are, actually. New medicine and genetics. Seriously, Peter is like rubber, always bouncing back and threatening to drag Steve down. He doesn't hesitate to leap at him with everything in him. Steve chokes a little when the kid hooks an arm around his neck and tugs him down. He's forced to grab him by the arm and flip him forward in a move he'd normally be horrified to use on a child, but Peter catches himself before he hits the ground and goes for his ankles. It's brutal, but fits what he's learned about Peter so far.

It's fun, Steve realizes with something akin to awe as Peter wraps around his legs like a koala and sends them both down. He's having fun. This has been a fun day. A great day! They talked to hours, and he got to know another living, breathing person. Someone who was interested in him and what he liked and in his passion for art. Peter was a polite young man and they just-- they got on like a house on fire. Is it awful that he doesn't want it to end? Peter probably has friends of his own, and a whole family to get back to. He probably doesn't realize the impact he's had on Steve's entire life right now.

He just feels like he fits for once. He feels comfortable, and like a real person. Steve Rogers has a pulse, everyone! There's no Captain America in sight. It's so pathetic. So, so pathetic. This is so pathetic, but it's too fun for him to be upset about it. Peter is just as enthusiastic as Steve is, and Steve can't find it in himself to doubt the kid. Not when they're so painstakingly similar. They tussle like a couple of small children in the grass until they're both sweating and have lost their fire, Steve's chest heaving for breath for the first time in forever. Remind him not to pick a fight with any children from Queens. Ever. 

Peter flops down flat on his back next to him, like a starfish, and begins gulping down air. They both stare up at the purpling sky and it occurs to Steve just how late its gotten. He'd normally be back at the tower by now, wandering around aimlessly by himself. Instead he's here, having wrestled for god knows how long, over churros. He'd forgotten about the churros sometime between getting the back of his knee kicked and tackling Peter football style. Shit. He tackled a child football style. Why would he do that?! He's enhanced, he could've hurt him, or killed--

"Um." A hesitant voice says. Steve blinks as a woman appears above them, cash in one hand and a pair of what Steve supposes is churros in the other. She holds it all out toward them, looking rightfully disturbed by their display. Steve is disturbed too, but happy. But also he just beat up a teenager. And got beat up by a teenager. Is he really an Avenger? Today is great. "Your... churros." 

Peter reaches up and plucks the cash and the warm treats from her, smiling politely as he does so. His bangs stick to his forehead, sticky from the sweat. His shirt is covered in grass stains. Considering the top Steve's wearing is white, he's going to wager he's in a lot worse shape than the kid is. The woman also produces Steve's dropped wallet and Peter's drawing from god knows where, and those get taken too. The churro-seller backpedals and leaves them as soon as she can, and Peter flops back readily. He blindly offers Steve one of the fried dough sticks. He takes it.

Peter takes in the events of the day and feels like he's about to explode. It's official. Mr. Steve was so totally fated to meet him today. Or vise versa, actually, since Peter was the one who initiated contact. His proudest moment yet. Peter's never gotten to spar with someone like that before! Like, ever! It's not like he can really ask Ned or MJ. He never would've thought to ask Mr. Steve, but he'd signed his own death warrant the moment he yanked Peter away from that churro stand. 

The guy was just as strong as he looked. Peter probably shouldn't have pushed quite as hard as he had, but Mr. Steve has no reason whatsoever to assume he's Spiderman. He hadn't been able to resist. The only fights Peter got into were life-threatening ones. His spidey-sense was constantly blaring, sending his heartrate through the roof. It felt good to scuffle with someone who wasn't trying to actually hurt him. It was fun.

The point is that Peter feels just-- really, really great. Hanging out with someone like this is the best thing ever, and he and Mr. Steve have so much in common. Besides, he's new here and hasn't made friends yet, and had been so indulgent of Peter. He rambled just as much as he did and didn't seem to mind when Peter did it back! It was literally meant to be. He still feels a little insecure, but Mr. Steve is definitely at least ten times more insecure than he is. So it cancels out. The mom friend override! 

"Mr. Steve, I think we're best friends now." Peter admits, and something in Steve melts into a gooey puddle of joy and disbelief. Best friends? Is it wrong that he's excited by the prospect of being best friends with a fifteen year old when he's literally in his 90s and a superhero? Maybe, but he feels loose and free. Who even cares? Steve can't bring it in himself to anymore, too elated. Everything feels unreal. Maybe he really is dreaming. The way Peter says it sounds too decisive for Steve to argue, anyway. Not that he'd want to. "...Whose money did she use to pay for the churros?"

Steve starts laughing all over again.

(Peter is right. Churros are amazing.)

Chapter Text

Bucky eyes Steve. Steve is too busy grinning down at his phone to actually notice, thus making Bucky eye him harder. It's an endless and vicious cycle, really.

Steve hadn't really thought Peter was serious about the whole best friend thing. It was one of those things that was too out there and too good to be true. Steve's a stranger Peter found at the park-- a mangey stray that you'd look at and pet, but never take home. Steve's heart had pretty much exploded in his chest after the entire encounter nonetheless. How could it not? This isn't something you can even begin to blame him for.

Steve had (for the record) asked if it was weird, a grown man hanging out with a teenager. Peter had asked if Steve wanted it to be weird. Steve obviously didn't want it to be weird. Peter had declared that because neither of them wanted it to be weird, it therefore was not, decidedly, weird. The simple logic zinged into what Peter called Steve's "lizard brain" rather nicely. That was another thing-- Peter was teaching him tons of new things that he never knew about! It felt like he was finally catching up with the times, talking to him.

It's also progressive to note that Peter had asked Steve very seriously after their churros whether or not he'd ever gotten the chance to truly be a kid growing up, which really hit the nail on the head. Steve had immediately flashed back to the continual illness, the depression, the back alley brawls, and the war. He'd answered honestly, because he's Steve Rogers and he can't lie for shit. No, he'd admitted. The realization that he'd never had fun like this before was like ice water down his back. He'd... never really thought about it before. 

"Alright, give me your phone. We're so exchanging numbers, Mr. Steve." Peter had insisted after what Peter called his 'come to Jesus moment'. It had knocked the wind out of Steve. Even now, an entire four days after the fact, he could hardly believe it. But Peter still talked to him consistently, and Steve was all too happy to talk back. He probably came off as overeager, but Peter never seemed to mind. "You need to relax more and I'm a teenager. It's like, my area of expertise. Besides, I'm pretty sure we're the same person in different fonts. Twin flames or something. We absolutely have to stay in contact!"

Steve's fragile resolve crumbled under his earnest insistence. And with all the texting back and forth they've been doing and with how elated Steve feels, maybe Peter's right. Maybe this entire thing is fate, even if he can stop feeling like he's monopolizing Peter's time and annoying him. Peter had told him time and time again that he was in no way, shape, or form irritated by their constant correspondence. Steve had done the same for him, because he and Peter are alike enough to have the same insecurities too. It makes Steve feel less alone, but he does wish the kid would put himself on a higher pedestal. 

Currently, they were making excited plans to meet at the park again, maybe even today! They were even going to go get that breakfast food Steve had been craving. Peter had brought it up before he could even suggest it and Steve was astonished that they were even hungry for the same things. How was it possible?! Steve had no clue but it was great! Though, Peter was trying to argue his way into the paying for the food using points like 'you suplexed me into the ground fourteen times, I should get to chose who pays' and others like 'it was probably your money that went to the churros anyway, so it's my turn for sure'. It wasn't working. Still hilarious to watch, though.

"So." Bucky piped up as Steve tapped away at his screen, nose scrunching up and grin obnoxiously wide. Though his memories of their childhood together were still fuzzy and vague, Bucky still knew it had been a long time since his friend made such a face. He'd never seen Steve this glued to his phone either. "What's got you so smiley these last few days, punk?"

Steve hummed at him, so clearly not paying attention it hurt. Bucky was almost tempted to pluck the phone out of his hand and find out for himself. It was obvious to see that the guy was talking to someone. And if he was talking to someone, it meant he'd met someone. Bucky wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing. People out there would want to extort and use Captain America, and Steve was such a trusting person. What if he got mixed up with the wrong crowd?

"Oh, uh... Nothing much, Buck." Steve answered after another round of hard staring. He turned his phone off decidedly, shoving it down into his pocket and looking up with a grin still etched into his expression. It looks good on him in Bucky's opinion, but he's not going to say that out loud. "I've got to go. You good here by yourself?"

"Go where?" Bucky's brows furrowed but Steve was already across the room tangling with his boots by the elevator. He was obviously pretty ready to get out of here, anticipation shining brightly and happily on his face. Again, not a super bad look. Just... unusual. Bucky tried to think of a time in which Steve had ever had set plans or wanted to go out and do something on his own, without him or someone else from the tower. He came up dry. 

"Out!" Steve answered giddily, jamming the elevator button. He turned to give Bucky one last grin, all shiny teeth and open enthusiasm. "See you later!"

And then he stepped in, already pulling his phone out again as the doors shut. Bucky stared after him, blinking at the oddness of it all and struggling to process. He looked down at his hands, brows furrowed. Maybe it was better not to ask until he had more information. Steve hadn't really made... any new friends here in this time outside the tightknit group that was the Avengers. He'd just have to wait and see how long this lasted.

~

Nobody ask how this happened because even Steve isn't super sure, and he's standing right here in the thick of it. Peter obviously doesn't have a clue either, the pair of them standing side by side staring cluelessly at the shelves in front of them. What was supposed to be a nice afternoon of friendly chatting and gigantic stacks of pancakes had quickly turned into a panicked visit to this place called Home Depot that Steve had never been to before in his life. It was the biggest hardware store he'd ever seen to date, that's for sure.

"What's the difference between lightweight and standard spackle?" Peter asked, still wet from the rain. Steve pressed his lips into a thin line, crossing his arms over his chest. Peter copied the move. Solidarity. This whole incident had really pushed Steve into the deep end of the pool. He'd embarrassed himself so much that now he was just comfortable with the kid, because there's no way it could honestly get any worse. And if Peter wasn't dropping him over this, he probably wasn't going to drop him out of nowhere for no reason at all going forward.

"I have absolutely no idea." Steve admitted. Peter hummed and nodded. Steve nodded back. It was not productive in the slightest, but that sums up how this entire evening has gone quite well. "Maybe we should Google it." 

"We could cover it with a picture." Peter offered. Steve squinted a bit, considering it. "At least then we won't have to get someone to paint match. Or try to figure out whatever adhesive mesh is. Why do we need mesh to patch a hole in the wall?"

"If you're asking me because I'm adult, I'm going to have to dash those dreams." Steve clapped a hand down on Peter's shoulder, looking him dead in the eyes in a grave sort of way. "I'm an idiot." 

"That does not help the situation." Peter responded, softly. He reached up to pat Steve's hand. 

"I know." Steve responded back, just as softly. It still wasn't productive. 

Let's backtrack a little so the situation can be explained. They were going to eat after meeting up at the park, but then it had started to pour actual real life rain down on them. Hard, too. Soaked them right down to the bone in seconds and left them a couple of shivering messes. Peter had immediately called for a regroup and dragged Steve away. Which was definitely a form of minor abduction since he didn't tell Steve where they were going, but he digresses. 

They'd almost gotten robbed in the process of getting to Peter's apartment, which was really just sad considering it was like, less than a ten minute walk away. Peter had kicked the tire of the thief's bike before he could make off with the wallet he'd plucked out of Steve's hands, sending him flying. It was all very hilarious. They'd still been laughing about it when they got through Peter's front door. Not because they're jerks, but... well, because they're sort of jerks. Don't tell anyone Steve just admitted that. He has an image to upkeep. 

Peter's apartment was cozy and lived in. It didn't feel as clean cut as Avenger's tower did: less like a place to land and more like a real home. Steve had learned over text just a few days ago that Peter lived alone with his aunt. The kid was quick to reassure him that she wasn't home at the moment, rushing off to get towels and-- yeah, none of this actually mattered. The point of the story is that Steve didn't know what a Wii was and Peter had taken it upon himself to show him. Only he hadn't put on the wrist strap because he's Steve Rogers and not very smart, and he had superhuman-ley chucked the remote so hard it made a hole in the wall. Right above the TV. 

It would've been more mortifying had Peter not also broken something right after. The kid shrieked in laughter at his misfortune before promptly tripping backwards and landing so hard on the couch that one of its legs popped straight through the hardwood. The resounding crack was so loud it had stunned them into silence fleetingly, and then Steve had started laughing at him instead. Peter had looked caught between pummeling Steve to death with his own Wii remote and laughing too. Luckily he decided on the latter. Steve wouldn't have gone down easy, but Peter was a force to be reckoned with. Cite last chapter: wrestling match. Would've been an early grave... or maybe a late one, looking at Steve's birth year and general health history.

Moral of the story, don't play Wii tennis. Or maybe wear your Wii strap like you're supposed to so you don't rage at Wii tennis. Steve's not sure on the exact details but there's definitely a lesson here. A lesson that ends with the consequence of braving Home Depot, which Steve has decided he really doesn't like very much. Peter looks just as distasteful which makes him feel marginally better about the whole thing.

"Okay. Wood glue for the floor, which seems more pressing than the wall." Peter held it up. Steve nodded surely, giving the kid his utmost attention. "Sweet. Okay, we got that mesh stuff and the spackle too. And the knife thing to smooth it over. Sort of looks like a pie serving spatula, actually." 

"Or a pizza one. Which we should order, since all this home renovation is probably going to wear us out." Steve offered hopefully. He knew the circumstances sort of sucked since they'd managed to heavily damage Peter's home on only their second meeting, but he was so happy to hang out that he didn't even care. Even manual labor was fun when you were doing it with good company. Company you were fully comfortable with. "Wait. We still need paint." 

"Ugh." Peter groaned. He threw his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Steve glanced up to see if there was anything worth looking at but only saw two lost balloons tied together, which really wrapped up how they were both feeling right about now. "Add breadsticks to that. To help us cope with our own failures."

He held out his fist to Steve. Steve bumped his against it. They nodded to each other again, this time with newfound resolve. They had some walls and floors to fix. And a lot of really, really, really greasy food to eat. As best friends. Because that's what they are and Steve has friends now. Or a friend now. Bucky is still his friend though, but they're both from the 40s so it totally doesn't count in this equation. Maybe. Steve still loves him but this is new, invigorating, and Steve finally feels like maybe he's living. Even if all he's doing is shivering like a wet cat in the middle of an orange tool store.

They get what they need and the haul it back Peter's apartment. Steve accidentally admits he's never touched a Lego before and Peter gives him another offended look that tells Steve exactly what they're going to be doing later. No arguments from Steve, that's for sure. Anyway, Peter somehow ended up breaking more of the wall in an attempt to get the mesh on which left them both temporarily speechless (again) before they pulled out the second, bigger piece of mesh they'd gotten just in case this exact thing happened. Their contingencies have contingencies. 

They finish the wall and get covered in dry wall dust in the process. All Peter's fault for wanting to try and get the remote out from where it had fallen inside. They'd had to rig up this thing with yarn and a hanger and-- it was a whole event. They had slaved over the device and triumphantly threw their hands up in victory when they succeeded. Then they'd eaten their pizza and breadsticks whilst laying on the ground trying to hype themselves to even attempt to fix the hole the couch had made.

It was a... weird evening. Far from bad by any means. It was fun. They took a bunch of photos together-- the type where you put the phone on the timer and then had ten seconds to get into position. Peter had also gotten prime video of Steve slipping on the rainwater he'd dripped on the floor, the man almost jamming a second hole in the floor with his elbow. The smack he made on the hardwood of the hallway would echo through the apartment for years to come. So would Peter's heinous laughter that followed. Steve flipped him off with both hands, which didn't help soothe the cackling in the slightest.

They eat more pizza even though it's cold by then and consult the floor. They spend a good amount of time fishing the broken pieces of wood out of the hole and then like, thirty minutes staring at it and muttering to one another about how in the ever-loving hell they're even supposed to do this. Piecing all the splinters together until they get one big chunk to slap in seems to be the most popular choice, which leads to them struggling immensely to find out how all the remnants fit. Peter is almost glad May took the late shift for once.

"This is the hardest thing I've ever done in my entire life." Steve breathes out, hands covered in glue. Peter is sweating so hard his ancestors can probably feel it.

"I thought figuring out how adhesive mesh works was." Peter responded as he very slowly lowered the piece into place. It looked perfect, because they're no skimps. The brunette let out a breath. Steve does too, shoulders slumping. They've both been laying on their stomachs on the floor for what feels like forever now and Steve can already tell his back's going to be in disagreement. Super healing or not.

"Adhesive mesh has nothing on this." Steve insists, gesturing to the floor. It looks seamless. They're great at what they do, apparently. Steve feels a swell of pride even though it's just a hole in the floor and he's literally fought aliens before and survived. "But enough about that, kid. I think I've annoyed you for long enough today. And destroyed enough of your apartment. It's getting pretty late, so maybe we should call it a day."

It's the last thing Steve wants to say, because of course he doesn't want to leave. Hanging out with Peter is like hanging out with another part of himself-- or something corny like that. Their impromptu Home Depot adventure had been the best part of his week. He feels relaxed and like he's wanted here. Peter hadn't gotten mad over the hole in the wall or tired out by Steve. Hadn't asked him to leave. 

Peter's face falls and Steve immediately regrets saying it, because he doesn't want to leave either. It's just that it's dark outside now and he doesn't want to risk overstaying his welcome and not being able to come back ever again. Which sounds like, super pathetically woeful when he says it like that. Irrational too, because Peter simply isn't like that. This socialization thing is hard. Not as hard as Steve thought it'd be, but still uncharted territory.

"Oh, yeah..." Peter trailed off, glancing at the darkened windows to their right. Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile at bay when the kid turned towards him with big brown eyes full of hesitant hope. "Did you wanna see my Legos before you go? Maybe?" 

A grin breaks out across his face, and that's answer enough.

~

Bucky is playing cards with Sam when Steve exits the elevator grinning and giggling like a madman, his big hands cradled carefully around something that can only be vaguely seen from where they sit. Sam's brows shoot up and he turns fully in his seat to look at the man as he haphazardly kicks his boots off. It's uncharacteristic of Steve's usually-military regimen of perfectly lining them up. Bucky blinks, not really knowing what to do or say as Steve all but bounces into the room.

He's humming what sounds suspiciously like a Hamilton song in Sam's modern opinion, not appearing to notice them at first. When he does he looks up, grins wider, and waves at them in greeting as though they're not less than ten feet away from him. Sam hesitantly raises a hand to wave back, glancing over at Bucky for answers. Bucky is too busy staring at Steve and trying to process what he's seeing to notice, pulling back in his seat when his longtime friend approaches as though to try and get a better look at him wholly.

Steve is pretty sure today is the best day of his life. Okay, well. Maybe getting Bucky back and alive was better, but that day had also royally sucked, because Bucky had tried to murder him in cold blood. This is way less stressful! Peter showing him his Lego collection had ended up with them building stuff on the floor of his cluttered bedroom. Steve wasn't super good at it, but it had been fun and Peter had insisted adamantly that he keep his creation. Who was he to say no?

"I made a hole in a wall." Steve says in lieu of a greeting. He shows them the thing in his hands, and Sam is only more confused to find that it's a small car. Or maybe a blocky go-cart? It's got four wheels and has been made out of red, white, and blue Legos. "It's the America Mobile. We did an action photoshoot with it. Wanna see?" 

Sam and Bucky stare at him. Steve beams back, looking like a kid at the gates of Disney World. Sam watched with poorly-concealed bewilderment as Steve scrambled to get his phone out. He tapped in his password, scrolled a bit, and then thrust the screen in their direction. Sam leaned back so he could actually see what was on it, squinting. Yeah. That was definitely the proclaimed 'America Mobile'. Except it had been cut out and put on a desert landscape, and--

"Are those explosions?" Bucky looked even more lost than Sam did. Steve nodded.

"Special effects. It can smell terrorists." Steve explained, completely serious. As though literally any of this made sense. He pulled the phone back and swiped, showing it to them again right after. This time it was flying through the air, somehow with even more explosions edited behind it, with the added bonus of a Bald eagle. "It's very American. Anyway, I've got to hit the hay. We're getting breakfast tomorrow, since we got interrupted by the rain today."

And then he walks off, just like that. Turns on his heel with his America Mobile and phone in tow, tapping excitedly away at the screen as he goes. An image flashes in Bucky's mind-- a blurry visage of a much smaller and younger Steve Rogers with the same bounce in his step-- but it's gone as soon as it comes. The two men watch their super soldier friend go, still humming happily as he does. He doesn't spare them another glance or linger like he usually does. Sam clears his throat.

"What the hell was that?" He asks as soon as he thinks Steve is out of earshot. He turns to Bucky for answers. "Who's 'we'?" 

Bucky shrugs and wishes he knew.

Chapter Text

Hm.

So there's a lot of odd things about Peter. They've established this more than once, and it's not a bad thing by any means. It's great, really; Steve loves him for who he is. Besides, some things about Peter hover on a vaguely acceptable level of weird. Like his intelligence that Steve is pretty sure could rival Tony's, and the kid's extensive flexibility that allowed him to flop around like a rubber noodle. You could totally explain those away with genetics and inherent genius. They were easily justifiable. Real world anomalies that weren't necessarily common, but weren't so out there that their existence was earth-shattering.

The issue here is that there are things that aren't justifiable. Like, at all. Not even a little bit no matter how you look at it. Like Peter physically picking Steve up-- in all his 240lb, muscled glory-- and chucking him when they wrestle over stupid shit. Or, or the fact that the kid had just beat him at a pancake eating contest earlier today. Peter had beat Steve, enhanced metabolism and all, by an entire stack of buttermilks. A whole extra plate! Teenage boys were ravenous, growing, and terrifying in general, but... Steve has to say there's literally no way that's normal. In any capacity. None of this is.

He's not saying he has room to talk. He's been best friends with Peter for three weeks and has failed to mention that he's Captain America at every given turn. It's not that he's lying about it. It's just that Peter hasn't noticed and nobody's asked, so why bother? It's not exactly something you can just casually bring up in a conversation. What's he supposed to do? Drop a "hey, that's me by the way" anytime Captain America is mentioned whilst Steve is helping Peter with his history homework? That seems like it wouldn't go over super well.

Or maybe it would. Because just like Steve, Peter clearly isn't normal either. They were practically the same person already, why wouldn't they both have this likeness too? Steve had already had his suspicions when Peter told him he grew up with severe asthma. Would drop down sick for a week at the slightest change in temperature and was all but bedridden growing up. It was yet another parallel between them that Steve had severely side-eyed. Seriously, the commonality between them was starting to get eerie. Especially now. Steve should've been more surprised, but he'd honestly seen this coming from a mile away.

"I... didn't do that." Peter said, taking a pointed step away from the car. The boy cleared his throat as Steve pressed his lips into a flat line. The car in question now had two hand prints pressed nicely into the hood, and Peter was completely unruffled by the fact that it had just hit him head on. He, of course, hadn't moved an inch when it did. He'd stepped out into the road before Steve could even react, barely managing to catch the ratty Honda Civic before it mowed down a little old woman. There'd been a screech and a bang, but Peter had stayed as stationary as a cement pole. "The car was going very slow?"

"Uh huh." Steve squinted at him a little, glancing at the hand-shaped indents in the vehicle once again. Peter shuffled to the side to block his line of sight, smile a little strained. The car had been going at least fifty miles an hour. The driver was currently staring bug-eyed at them like he couldn't believe what had just happened. The old woman-- the one who Peter had just saved-- was now shuffling away from them. She hadn't seemed to notice how close her life came to ending. 

"Yep." Peter agreed, planting his hands on his hips and trying to look sure of himself. He was failing miserably. Steve observed him. He didn't look enhanced in the same way Steve did. He was still wiry and short, but that could be because he was young. He probably wasn't a serum-borne super soldier, but he was definitely mutated. Was he a mutant or mutate? Probably mutate if he'd had asthma. Twinsies, again. "So. Homework."

"You do have that." Steve admitted, brows furrowing. Should he ask? He'd definitely have to come clean about the Captain America thing if he asked. They were also standing on the side of the street which was arguably one of the worse places to talk about this kind of thing. Steve shared a look with the driver of the car, who seemed to recognize him and now looked like they were maybe having some sort of seizure. They'd probably be fine. "You stopped that car, though. We could talk about that instead."

Peter pressed his lips together into a very thin line. Steve mirrored the expression, crossing his arms over his chest. The tension wasn't super high but it was definitely there. Peter was regarding him like one might regard a stationary grenade. You knew it wasn't going to blow up unless you pulled the pin, but you still couldn't help but feel suspicious of it despite that. Steve totally understood that. Totally god that. It's not like he was going to attack the kid for being enhanced or anything. He wasn't a cop, licensed therapist, or middle aged white woman with entitlement issues and a narcissistic personality disorder. 

He was a little concerned, though. It wasn't everyday you ran across teenagers with super strength and enhanced metabolisms. It opened the door to a lot of questions. Did Peter eat enough to keep up with his metabolism on a daily basis? Who else knew? Did he use his super strength for anything else? What if someone found out and he got targeted for his mutations? It was all very concerning. Steve watched as Peter seemed to roll the whole thing around in his head, waiting with bated breath to see if Peter would acknowledge it or just brush it off and never mention it again.

Peter squinted at him. Steve squinted back and tried not to betray how afraid he was. What if Peter decided to cut off contact with him over this? The adult in Steve told him he had to address it, because really, how could you ever rationalize ignoring something as big as catching a speeding car in public? Even Steve would've been moved by that. His feet would've given purchase and he would've slid, and he might've even fractured a few bones in his arms and wrists in the process. Peter was obviously a step up from him in some regard. Thus, Steve had to know. Even if he was risking losing one of the best friends he'd made since waking up in the twenty-first century. 

"...Alright. But only because we're best friends and I know you won't tell anyone." Peter gave him a look after a moment of thought. Steve broke out into a grin, nodding with perhaps too much relief and enthusiasm. The damaged car was still idling right next to them and was causing a bit of a pile up. The chain of angry honks and shouts was growing, but that wasn't exactly uncommon in New York. Peter sighed, his entire body seeming to sag. He scuffed his foot against the pavement. "Man. This is going to suck. You're definitely not going to report me, right?"

"Of course not." Steve replied, a little offended. Peter had taught him all about something called the 'bro-code' and this undoubtedly fell under it. He allowed Peter to grab him by the arm and start dragging him back in the direction of his apartment. If Peter was going to come clean, Steve would too. Peter wouldn't look at him any differently, right? Peter had befriended Steve first-- Captain America was coming in second for once. He was apprehensive, but it would be a betrayal of trust if Peter explained his powers and Steve omitted his. That wasn't the type of friendship they had. He had morals, okay? He's an honest person!

Steve let himself be tugged along by Peter, who was now babbling about having to scour the internet to make sure no one caught a video of him catching that car. Something about hacking and taking things down, and routing it through different countries so he couldn't be found? It was a foreign language to the super soldier. Steve was still trying to shake the fear that Peter would regard him in a different light after finding out not just who he was, but also after finding out his technical age. The thought of their friendship changing was like a shot to the heart. What they had now was fluid and amazing, and pretty much his only source of actual joy these moot days. Which was pathetic and lonely of him, but strikingly true.

People forget how old Steve really is sometimes. They treat him like he's some sort of old man-- like mentally he really is in his 90s. They forget he went into the ice at age 27, with his whole life ahead of him and more. He's actually on the younger side of most of the team. Maybe it's because of how he's struggled to adjust to this time period. There were things he still couldn't wrap his head around. Lots of his interests and preferences still lied in the 40s as well-- from his taste in music, to his partiality in clothing, to his way of speaking, and beyond. That didn't make people treating him like a walking fossil any less annoying, however. 

With Peter, Steve didn't have to worry about that. He never questioned Steve's occasionally out-of-date way of saying things. He didn't bat an eye when he didn't recognize something that was a staple to most. He wasn't surprised when Steve didn't know songs that were popular and widely loved, nor did he raise a brow at Steve's lack of knowledge on how to navigate the internet. He just rambled on and explained it in a manner that was entirely Peter. Half the time it didn't make sense, but Steve wasn't going to tell him that.

The sight of Peter's apartment cowed him a little, and he was being dragged up the stairs before he could change his mind or conjure up any more doubts. How was he supposed to come out and say it? Did he just do it outright? Look up a picture on his phone so Peter could to a side-by-side comparison and draw the conclusion himself? No, he should definitely just say it. Should he be casual or super serious about it? Grim or joking? He was an Avenger. That wasn't a super big deal, right? No bigger than whatever Peter had to admit! Besides, this had been a long time coming. It was a miracle no one had called him out in public whilst he was with Peter, and that Peter hadn't noticed the goggling stares that followed Steve wherever they went.

"My Aunt May still isn't home, but you probably guessed that already. I really don't know how you guys keep missing each other. I guess it's because she sleeps all day while I'm at school and then is gone by the time I get back, and that's like, the only time you're over." Peter seems nervous, babbling endlessly about things that sort of matter but also don't at the same time. Steve is nervous too, so he just nods broadly and tries not to have a panic attack over how he's supposed to say this. He should just come out with it. Blunt and straight to the point. Like ripping off a band-aid "Are you hungry? I'm a little hungry. We could order pizza if you-"

"I'm Captain America." Steve says, because he's an idiot. His mouth closes so fast and hard he's pretty sure the entire floor can hear how audibly his teeth clack together. Peter freezes in place, key halfway raised to get the door unlocked for them. Steve presses his lips into a thin smile and tries to keep the internal screaming to a minimum. That's not what he'd wanted to say. Or how he'd wanted to say it. This is great. This is so great. Peter is staring at him now. Steve is staring back. This is awkward. He should've let Peter go first, because he's a coward and that would've been easier.

Peter looks at him for a moment before he makes a face, shoving the key into the knob without taking his eyes off his friend. He looks Steve up and down, still holding his arm. Less to drag him now and more to keep him from running away, like he can smell Steve's teeming nerves and cowardice. Steve holds his breath as Peter inspects him, slowly turning the key as he does. Steve inspects him back because it would be infinitely more awkward if it weren't a mutual thing. Peter shoves the door open but still doesn't move, brows scrunched the way they always do when the kid's deep in thought.

What if he doesn't want to be friends with Steve anymore? What if it's weird? Is he going to be mad that Steve didn't mention it? He'd known this moment would come eventually the moment he and Peter solidified their friendship with a secret handshake. That doesn't make this any less nerve-wracking. He tries to tell himself that this is Peter and it'll be fine, but the expression on the kid's face is unreadable. Steve's going to get grey hairs at this rate. He'd always though it would be Bucky who gave him his first one, but this moment is so high-stakes and full of unspoken tension that his heart's about to fall out of his ass.

"...Huh." Peter says after a moment, which tells Steve absolutely nothing whatsoever. His panic must show on his face because Peter is ushering him into the apartment before he can turn tail and run like a startled dog. Steve lets it happen, spinning on his heel so he can stare at Peter and soak in his reaction better. Only Peter's not having much of any reaction at all, just staring at Steve with pursed lips as he locks the door with one hand. "That makes sense."

"It does?" Steve croaks out, voice a bit of a wheeze. He's sweating. This is the most stressed out he's been like... ever. Which shouldn't be a thing because he's an Avenger and has saved the world several times now. He also like, existed in an icy stasis for several years and then was revived in a whole new century that he still hasn't fully adjusted to. He also found out his other best friend-- Bucky, yeah, that one-- was still alive also and had been made into a Hydra superweapon that didn't remember him or like, literally anything else. 

"Wait, you thought repairing a hole in the floor was the hardest thing you've ever done? Haven't you fought like, aliens and stuff?" Peter made a face. Steve raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn't even embarrassed, because come on. Punching was easy! Putting together literal splinters took real cognitive power. Peter shook his head, nose scrunching. The judgement was noted but not appreciated. Steve huffed at him. "I guess it's not that important. I can't believe we're both secretly super heroes! Spiderman and Captain America: best friends for life! It's like, perfect! I'm going to add this to the 'us meeting was fate' tally." 

"Wait, what?" Steve blinked. Peter grinned, jumped, and stuck to the ceiling with his fingertips in response. Steve's eyes went wide as the words processed and smacked him upside the head as they did. Spiderman. He knew Spiderman. Tony had made a suit for them and... and of course it would be Peter. Of course Peter would be running around in the middle of the night in spandex attacking muggers and getting shot at. Does anyone else feel the grey hair? It's just now sprouted. Steve swallowed heavily, mind racing. Great. Wow. He should've seen this coming. "Oh."

"I know, right? That's crazy! We're twinning all over again!" Peter looked excited now, dropping from the ceiling and all but teeming with energy. Steve was still in a state of shell-shock. Pardon him. He'd expected an admission to being a mutant, not an admission to being a reckless vigilante who swung around nightly and jumped off skyscrapers. Wow. He was going to have to do so much googling on Spiderman later. Peter suddenly gasped, drawing his attention away from his spiraling thoughts. "Mr. Steve. We have to have an arm wrestling match like, right now."

Steve paused. He considered it for a moment. They should talk more about the vigilante thing. The running around beating up bad guys thing and, again, jumping off buildings. The knowing Tony Stark thing, and the suit thing, and like... literally all of it. Was he eating enough? Who else knew? Did his aunt? His aunt was gone so often, was Peter really okay being alone so often? Well, he really wasn't alone that often anymore. He and Steve were always out doing something or another. Like racing in the park, going to museums, trying new foods, playing video games, exploring Walmart and all its modern innovations. But that wasn't the point. Steve's an adult and a good friend, and he has good reason to be concerned right now!

That being said, Peter did win the arm wrestling contest. Easily. They also broke the table in the process and it took them three hours to drive to get an exact replacement for thirty dollars off Facebook Marketplace. They also got a flat tire on the way and they didn't have the tools to put the spare on so they had to use their bare hands, which had ended with one of the bolts getting chucked down the road. It took them thirty minutes to find it and another thirty for them to figure out how to put it back on, because neither of them knew what the hell was going on. 

They stopped at a gas station on the way back and got an obscene amount of snacks, but then Steve got recognized and they had to bail. But someone decided to follow them and they had to do the four turns thing to make sure they were really being tailed. So then they panicked about it and looped the song 'Life Is A Highway' six times to hype themselves up into speeding to try and lose them. Only Steve is a horrible driver and they ended up spinning into a ditch fifteen minutes from the apartment. They had to walk the rest of the way back with the table held over their heads because Steve didn't want to call Tony for help and admit what had happened, and no taxi was going to let them strap a table to the top.

"Captain America and Spiderman. The dream team." Peter said grimly as they set the new table down in the living room. Steve sniffed a bit, hands on his hips as he supervised their find. Peter had the same stance, observing the new table critically. "I think we just bonded like, even more."

"I think we did too." Steve admitted, holding out a fist. Peter bumped his fist against it. "Pizza and breadsticks?" 

"Please." Peter sounded a bit tortured. Steve came him a consoling pat on the back.

They took a selfie with the broken table to commemorate. Steve decided that he was probably more of a hazard to Peter than being Spiderman could ever be. It was... oddly reassuring. Only, there was still one thing he absolutely needed to know. Non-negotiable information. It had been eating at Steve since the whole identity reveal, but he hadn't wanted to mention it during the drive. Peter might feel cornered being in the car and Steve didn't want that. But now he could freely ask and Peter could escape if need be...

"Can I see the suit?" Steve asked. Peter lit up, and Steve rushed out his next question. The one he actually needed to know the answer to, lest morbid curiosity eat him alive: "Also, do the webs come from you or from somewhere else?"

Peter's face said it all.

Chapter Text

Finding out Steve is actually Captain America and just declined to mention it? Admittedly shocking, but on brand for him. Peter does feel somewhat like an idiot for not noticing, because what sort of self-respecting teenage boy isn't going to immediately coin an Avenger? Not even as just a teenage boy: as a fellow super hero, Peter totally had a reputation to uphold! A reputation that entailed recognizing highly recognizable individuals who just so happened to be national icons. He saw Steve like every single day and the dots had somehow still never connected. 

You're probably thinking that something between them had changed. Funny. If you know ANYTHING about Pemdas, then you know that the Captain America thing and the Spiderman thing cancel one another out. Not that they're negatives, but it's true principle of the matter, okay? Don't worry about it. They're still best friends, everything is great, and their best lives are actively being lived. All's well in casa de Peter and Mr. Steve. They even have matching t-shirts!

...Fine. Peter knows it's in the realm of totally weird, okay? But so is being bit by a supercharged, radioactive mutant spider and then growing abs overnight. Nothing about his life up to this point has been normal and as far as Peter can tell, that fact is absolutely not going to be changing anytime soon. Especially considering he just found out his best friend is Captain-goddamn-America. Which is just... so cool. Really, really cool. He's still freaking out a little. But also like, Peter doesn't know what's going on.

"It wasn't a big fire." Peter rationalized, staring at the wreckage. Half of he and Steve's entire relationship was just breaking stuff and then staring at it until they decided to fix it. Yet it was still somehow enjoyable. Probably because Peter likes spending time with Steve and fixing things, and because Steve likes helping people and spending time with Peter. They coexist with mutually-assured destruction on their coattails. Any good (best) friendship can be defined by this aspect, though! Totally not exclusive to them! "If we don't know how to cook, we probably shouldn't cook."

"I've definitely figured that one out by now." Steve sniffed a bit, staring at the blackened oven. For context, the oven is supposed to be white. No, they're not sure how it managed to combust. All they know is that it happened and it's definitely their fault. "I grew up in The Great Depression. There was no food to cook. I have a completely logical excuse as to why I may set things on fire in a kitchen."

Peter made a face. This was beginning to sound suspiciously like Steve was placing all the blame on him. Which would be totally plausible—because Peter's decision making skills suck. Please reference like, the entire Vulture incident pretty much— if not for the fact that it's not on him this time. It's definitely on Steve. Not only is he the only supervising adult, this whole kitchen excursion was his living, breathing idea to begin with! His brainchild! 

"I was doing my Calculus homework. You got bored and hungry and decided that you wanted cinnamon rolls. You even preheated the oven. I touched it like, once." Peter argued. Steve was avoiding eye contact which was pretty much an admission of guilt in and of itself. "I'm telling all my friends that Captain America is a liar."

"You have approximately three friends and one of them is me." Steve pointed out unnecessarily. Peter side-eyed him. Steve side-eyed him back. The vibes were resonating in the air and they're definitely on the same page at the moment, it's just that the page is actually not a page at all. It's a train wreck and they're both going to crash and die a gruesome death. But willingly. It's like suicide, but not literally. Peter doesn't want to die and he's about 94% sure Mr. Steve doesn't either. Except sometimes Steve does has these moments of self-loathing that concern Peter a bit, and he always has to break out the ice cream and reassure him that he's cool when-- yeah, never mind. Not the point. 

"You're a mean person and a bully." Peter decided. He turned back to the stove. "We need a new oven."

"And a lot of scented candles." Steve said, because it smells like a barbecue gone wrong in here. He paused. "And paint. If we want the scorch marks off the wall and ceiling. Do you think that cabinet needs to be replaced, or can we just gloss over that?"

Peter sighed very deeply, which Steve could understand and relate to. It was uncanny for Steve to think about his life before Peter. It was hard to imagine it, as though it were nothing more than a distant memory. Which is funny because the memory honestly isn't distant. At all. Not in the slightest. Just a month or so ago he was sitting alone all day sadly reading like, books. What self respecting man his age sits around all day reading books? He's young, spry, and a super soldier. He should be out doing things! 

Which he has been. Peter has changed his life irreversibly. After realizing that Steve had been extremely literal when he admitted to never getting a childhood, he had jumpstarted the whole having fun thing with gusto. They are now banned from four different arcades and one mini golf course that is now going out of business due to their interference. Steve doesn't want to talk about it, but he vindictively thinks they do deserve it. Fuck them and their dino golf extreme putt putt experience. Ask Peter, he'll back Steve on this one. They had it coming from a whole mile away. 

Things have been good. It's been good for Steve to get out like this and do things as himself and not as Captain America. He spends the time Peter's at school doing things at the tower. And when he says things, he means he tails Bucky everywhere and tries to bond, jog his memory with subtle slips, and get to know this newer him. And right when Bucky is getting tired of him, boom! Peter's out of school and badgering him into hanging out! Instead of wallowing by himself all day, Steve instead gets to be around his two favorite people ever for an optimal amount of time. All without annoying either of them with his constant presence! 

He wishes Bucky could stand him more instead of just looking at him like he's some big blonde oaf that doesn't know what he's doing. They're distant and he has no idea how to bridge the gap. Steve wants to ask Peter for advice, but he feels too sad about the whole thing. If he could just get Bucky to open up even a little, he could introduce him to Peter. Bucky and Peter-- man, he can tell they'd get on like a house on fire. They could be the three amigos! It's just that Steve sometimes gets the impression that Bucky wants nothing to do with him at all. It... hurts. But he's getting used to it. 

Besides, he and Peter have resonated. Like a couple of metronomes in time with one another. It's super fucking creepy and Steve was still wondering if this was all just some blissful coma he's fallen into. Can you blame him? He's happy. He's having fun and he loves his life for the first time ever. He almost just burned down an entire apartment building and he's completely content. He does secret handshakes and plays Wii and Legos with his free time and it's heaven on Earth. He's saved the world time and time again, but this? It can't be beat. Simply can't be.

"I told Aunt May about you by the way. Well, technically I didn't. I just framed a bunch of our selfies and made a gallery in the hall." Peter admitted. He was already looking up the model of stove so they could try to find an exact replica. Hopefully it wouldn't be as hard as the table. "I think she thought they were photoshopped for a bit before she realized I wasn't joking. She just told me to tell you thanks for making me do my homework and for feeding me."

"Tell her I said you're welcome and that she seems lovely." Steve said happily. His chest felt light and airy with the realization that he wasn't going to get kicked out by Peter's aunt, who had apparently seen enough at this point not to really care about this. Having an outsider look in and not find it weird really helped. Way more than Steve thought it would. Talk about a weight off his chest. "So. Tell me there's an obtainable copy of this stove somewhere that is within city limits."

Peter made a face and very slowly turned the screen towards him. Steve sighed heavily, but still bumped his fist against Peter's in consolidation when it was offered. Great. So this was going to be harder than the whole table thing. Steve wondered if that place with the Cinnabons was still open. At the rate this was going, they'd need the fuel.

Tony's been having a week.

First one of the lower labs blows up because some thickskulled idiot had somehow managed to combine concentrated amounts of chemical acetone, hydrogen peroxide, and an unnamed acid they still can't seem to identify all together in the same, compact little container. Do you know what that is? Do you know what those three things make when you put them together? Yeah, uh huh. Fucking TATP. What's that, you ask? Considering that the lower lab blew up, Tony thinks the answer is pretty goddamn clear. How stupid could you be? Why were those three things anywhere near each other? Literally everyone knows those things are volatile when put together! Everyone!

There's been half a million board meetings this week to boot, and Pepper has forced him to go to every single one without fail. Not because she hates him, but because he's apparently the 'face and name' of the company and he needs to be 'present and involved' in its affairs. She's literally the CEO now. He has no idea what all this other stuff even has to do with him. He upgraded the Stark phone and made a neat little smart watch to go with it. What more do these people want from him? Actual participation and commitment? Those two words don't exist in Tony's dictionary-- especially not in context of company matters outside of all the cool science-y stuff.

He's also had to deal with more frequent sighting of Barnes. Yeah, the resident terminator just downstairs. The in-home robocop. The one who killed his parents? Yeah, the very same. He and the guy are on amicable terms. Tony isn't going to kill him, Barnes isn't going to snap his neck. It's all very healthy. That doesn't mean he doesn't get shivers down his spine anytime he sees the guy. He knows he talked it out with Cap and agreed to let him stay here to rehabilitate, but come on. That's the guy who murdered his mom, his dad, and numerous other innocents no doubt. Pardon him for feeling a little antsy to find the guy lurking around every corner.

Lurking isn't the right word. No, it's more a mixture of wandering and moping both perfectly rolled up like a miniature prosciutto-wrapped mozzarella stick. Seeing the cyborg by himself was unnatural. Like seeing a baby duck all on its own. There were supposed to be other baby ducks stupidly waddling around with it. Yet there was no Steve Rogers in sight. He'd asked FRIDAY and yeah, no, Cap wasn't even in the tower. Nobody had any idea where he was. Tony had asked if this was a normal occurrence and yep, there's just one more thing Tony has missed entirely. Apparently Steve has been spending excessive amounts of time outside of Stark Tower. Apparently he'd made friends. Or a friend. One who liked Legos, according to FRIDAY's "astute research".

Topping it all off, he got some awful news from Happy that had been pretty much foaming at the mouth with nerves. You remember the spider kid? The one he tracked down and gave a suit so he wouldn't absolutely kill himself? That one? Yeah, he used to call and harass Happy daily. Like clockwork, the kid would call and give a detailed report of his day via voicemail. Very peppy, innocent, upbeat. Very friendly-neighborhood Spiderman. Well, Tony just got news that there hasn't been a single one of those calls in two weeks. Two. The kid is still swinging around out there, sure, but now Tony's definitely got to go check on him and make sure he's not... he doesn't know! Depressed, or whatever teenagers are these days!

So yeah, his week has been a week. He's got the shadow of his parents' murderer looming around every sharp turn, he's had back-to-back meetings from hell in which isn't even allowed to nod off, he's tired, the lab downstairs is in shambles and had compromised the building integrity enough that they've had to halt operations and even move some stuff just in case, Peter Parker has gone radio silent, and now... now this. This is his tipping point. He's gotten a collective nine hours of sleep over the past seven days. Do you know how close to absolute insanity that puts him? He's on the verge of hallucinating and breaking down entirely. 

"FRIDAY." Tony tries to say it in a calm, controlled way. It doesn't work all that well. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment, begging the lord above for just a shred more patience. "Where, pray do tell, is the Quinjet?" 

"Indiana." The AI replied without pause. Tony took another deep breath. He reminds himself that he no longer drinks alcohol and that he quit, and that he has not touched it since. He reminds himself that this is a good thing and that everyone is very proud of him. His liver is immensely grateful. It's all okay. All perfectly fine. 

"Great. That's lovely." Tony needs to be in Denmark yesterday or Pepper is going to kill him. He'd been looking forward to the coma he'd get to experience on the flight over. The one that was going to breathe life back into his deflating body and give him the willpower to tie up this much-needed deal that was going to get even more of their products outsourced into many, many parts of Europe. They were going to talk about opening assembly plants there. Assembly ones! For phones! And other Stark Tech things that would further the business and get them closer to their goal of creating a 'green world'. God, Tony wants to die. "I love to hear that. Why is it there?"

"Steve Rogers-- codename: Mr. Good And Righteous-- requested access to the Quinjet at 4:36 PM." FRIDAY reported as though Tony weren't actively shriveling up right before her very eyes. Tony dragged his hands down his face. "He did not give a reason why, though his flight pattern indicates he made a stop at a Cinnabon in Queens, New York. I have reason to believe he also picked up an additional passenger when he did this, though my scans remain inconclusive due to the protocols titled 'we have boundaries, Tony' and 'no peeping, that's really rude', put in place by Pepper Potts and Natasha Romanov respectively."

Tony is a good person. He's a good person who doesn't-- he doesn't maim people, or attack them, or use his outer space drones to shoot them out of the sky. He just wants to know if he's hearing this right. Steve Rogers, Captain actual America, highjacked his Quinjet to run off with his city buddy? To fucking Indiana? If it were somewhere cool he might understand better, but now he's just mad. Steve's probably being hustled by some star struck fan who knows how to put the moves on, and now Tony is without a Quinjet. Pepper is going to death ray him off the face of the planet!

"FRIDAY. Please patch me into the Quinjet. Now." Tony demanded, feeling scarily close to real tears. He's a tired, tired man. Did he let his paperwork build up for three months and now he was rushing to finish it all before the deadlines and before Pepper could burn him at the stake? Yeah. Yes, this is partially self-inflicted, but you know what? You know what? He deserves better than this anyway. At least he's doing it now. You can't rag on him for being a procrastinator. 

There was a static fizz, a click, and then he had audio. It didn't sound like the jet was actively on. That was awful, if you were wondering whether or not that was a good or bad thing. He needed it back which meant it needed to be flying as fast as fucking possible back here. Chop chop, right now. Tony wonders if he'd get institutionalized if he ripped his hair out right now. He could probably lock himself down in the lab and hold out for a while before they staged a siege and dragged him out by his ankles. Tony sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment as the sound of Steve's voice came over the speakers. 

"I still can't believe we had thirty-two cinnabons total. And that she actually had the stove we wanted. I mean, I know it was on the ad, but this thing is sort of ancient." Steve says, which is decidedly not what Tony was expecting. His eyes snap open, and he blinks as a bang that sounds over the intercom. "Do you know how to install this thing?"

"It's like a microwave. You just plug it in and it does stuff." Another voice said-- the mystery guest. Tony stared blankly into the distance. That was definitely a young boy, right? He'd heard that? Did Steve have some sort of secret love child none of them knew about, or was he just kidnapping children now? The voice sounded almost familiar, but all those brats sound about the same until they make it fully through puberty and whatever the hell else happens whilst they grow. "She was actually really nice. I never knew homemade lemonade could be that good."

"The fact that she gave it to us for free is nice too. And all we had to do was carry her truck down into the garage." Steve seemed to agree, sounding like a perky golden retriever. It was a contrast to the usual sigh he had under toning everything he said. Tony frowned a little. Was this how he was supposed to sound? Because if so, he was downright depressing the rest of the time. That meant a lot coming from Tony. Damn. "I'm sort of hungry again. Do you--"

"Steve." Tony cut off, inciting dead silence over the line. He sighed for what had to be the millionth time today. His grey hairs are spreading at lightning speed. "Why are you using the Quinjet to go get... an oven? Is that what you just said? Jesus Christ." 

No response. Tony's ears strained to listen for any signs of life to no avail. Great. This is just what he needed. One thing after the other this week, isn't it? This sucks. Certified ass, and not the good kind. He's a genius billionaire. Things should not be at this level of booty without some sort of alien invasion. At least then there was a plausible reason for everything sucking. This was just unjust. 

"...Is that Mr. Stark?" A voice whispered. The kid again. God, Steve had taken a random child to Indiana. Why did he know a kid? Who was the kid? Why were they going to get an oven in the fucking Quinjet? The kid seemed to hiss a bit, and he heard a smack. "Answer him!"

"I'm thinking!" Steve hissed back. Tony wondered if he should let them know he can hear them. "What should I tell him?"

"I don't know. You're the one who lives with him. Maybe just be honest? I-I mean, it's not like we could drive to get the oven. I have school tomorrow." The kid whispered back, sounding anxious. School. Tony wants to bash his own head in. An infant. A mere fetus. Steve has taken a multi-million dollar aircraft to go get an oven with a toddler at his heels. Is he in hell? Maybe the hallucinations really have started. "Oh my god. Is he going to arrest us for stealing his spaceship?"

"What? No." Steve rushed out before he paused. Tony scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, wondering if it was healthy to deal with this much idiocy at once. No wonder Steve's hanging out with a child. He's practically is one himself, apparently. "He can't do that, right?"

"Right." The kid parroted. There was an unsure silence. Tony groaned. He can't do this today. Steve's been leaving the tower daily to, what, babysit? He's not sure he wants to know. He doesn't have the energy to. Steve is an Avenger and a legal, actual adult. Whatever the fuck's going on, it's probably not batshit and completely awful. Tony'll add it to his growing list of problems and deal with it later. If it's been going on for a month and has yet to blow up in their faces, it can't be that urgent.

"God, never mind. Just get the Quinjet back here as fast as you can. I've got places to be, deals to make." Tony groaned. He heard one of them sniff loudly on the other end. If Steve and his mystery mini-me were here, he'd throttle them with his bare hands. What the literal hell? This is reckless child endangerment at its finest. Who would ever trust Steve Rogers with their kid? Did the kid's parents know? "We can talk about how we're going to lie to the press if it gets out that Captain America kidnapped a child later. FRIDAY, wake me up when the Quinjet's back. I can't fucking do this today."

The line went dead before either of them could say anything back. Tony collapsed in one of the rooftop lounge chairs that was lined up right by the helipad. If he was going to wait for the Quinjet, he was going to do it unconscious. 

Chapter Text

Dropping Peter off on top of some random, really tall building with an entire oven ranks pretty high on Steve's list of "most terrifying shit I've ever willing done." They both share a hug and solemnly agree to never mention that they did this to literally anyone ever. May would roll Peter up in approximately sixty-seven layers of bubble wrap and then proceed to hunt Steve for sport. Getting condemned to hell by an angry Italian woman wasn't on his bucket list and Steve didn't plan on adding it anytime soon either. Godspeed.

Tony doesn't even seem to acknowledge him. He jerks up out of what seems to be a power nap and groggily wanders past him and onto the Quinjet, leaving Steve to awkwardly stand and watch the aircraft rise right back up into the air again not even moments after it just landed. He smiles and waves in a happy little way, feeling satisfied by the day's events. He's pretty convinced Tony isn't going to arrest him or track Peter down just for shits and giggles. Steve had always scolded Tony about needed to get more sleep, but the deprivation has helped him in this case. Can't argue with that. Perks, people, perks!

He did have plans to go back to Peter's apartment and help him with the paint issue and the cabinet catastrophe, but he gets a red alert text from the kid before he can leave. Aunt May's back. She's not mad but Peter is convinced that he and Steve will accidentally break something if he comes over to try to help. He's absolutely fucking right and Steve isn't going to argue with him. He sends him an array of American-esque emojis as way of salute and says his condolences. Making peace with Peter's inevitable death is hard, but that's life for you. 

Bucky helps him with the mourning process by sitting in his vicinity. And by that Steve means that Bucky was already watching TV when he got there and luckily hadn't moved yet. Steve will take what he can get. He's told Peter a little bit about Bucky— the flight back on the Quinjet was two hours, which was plenty of time to vent. He hadn't told him everything, but Peter had offered some potentially-fruitful suggestions despite the holes he left in the situation. Steve very much appreciated them, since Peter was a lot more socially articulated than he was. Which was a low bar, but you know. Semantics. 

Steve has been overbearing to a degree, he will admit. He's given Bucky a lot of space, but maybe a lot isn't enough. Maybe there needs to be even more. Which sucks and makes Steve want to whimper like an abandoned puppy, but that doesn't change the fact that it may be exactly what Bucky needs. And maybe that's okay! It doesn't mean Bucky doesn't like him. It's just a personal preference. If he could acclimate Bucky to coexisting in the same space as him for a prolonged amount of time without him growing irate, maybe he could eventually work a little more conversation in.

Basically, he's been going about this all wrong. There are steps and he skipped like, fourteen of them according to Peter. Had they cited a lot of articles, most of which were how to domesticate feral cats? No comment. This is a pyramid and Steve needs to start with the bare minimum-- the base. Simply existing without direct engagement near Bucky for long periods of time instead of chasing him around all day, stressing him out and trying to talk to him nonstop. Steve hadn't realized it may be having a detrimental effect. He feels stupid looking back now, because it seemed rather obvious. 

So he sits on the couch as far away from Bucky as he can get and watches the TV like his life depends on it. He shoots Peter a message to let him know that the plan (lengthily titled Reintroduce Myself To Bucky Barnes In Bite Sized Increments For His Own Comfort So We Can Rekindle Our Dying Flames) is a go. 

He knows Bucky still cares about and him would do anything for him, it's just that he could only take so much on the domestic front, you know? There's a bit difference between "I would kill and die for you" and "let's discuss our top ten favorite songs and then you can tell me about your day." One of those things came easier to Bucky, that's all! Nothing wrong with that. Steve could adapt and overcome. Darwin, survival of the fittest. Natural selection: circa 1838. He's going to, in Peter's words, dunk on this so hard.

Peter sends him much encouragement and some photos of the process. May's anger was quelled by their detailed plan to fix the problem, and one of the stove's burners had been out anyway. This new one they got is in far better condition and has very little wear. It was obviously well-loved. They crack open paint and May even says not to worry about the cabinet! Something about it adding character. Steve is officially a member of the Aunt May fanclub either way. Steve wants to tell Bucky all about it in excruciating detail but he's not sure he can handle that enthusiasm. Casual cohabitation is the goal.

So, Steve proceeds to not fuck it up because he's a badass and Captain America and so, totally knows what he's doing. Thank you Peter, thank you internet. Put them together and you can get a step-by-step guide to just about anything! It may take several months to get Bucky adjusted to the temperature of this pool, but Steve is willing to hold off the party if it means he can hug him again without Bucky tensing up or shoving him off like he's on fire.

Thus, television. Steve is man enough to say that keeping his mouth shut is a little painful. Which is really embarrassing to admit and he is appropriately ashamed. He quells his urges by texting Peter, who is somehow managing to multitask with the whole painting thing whilst also talking to him at the same time. Steve very much appreciates it, making a face when he gets a photo of the kitchen wall. They'd just put some of the paint on only to realize it's not quite the right color, so now Peter's got to do the entire kitchen. Aunt May can be seen off to the side covered in paint and eating popcorn out of a bowl. Steve is afraid to ask what the floor looks like.

He wishes he was there. He wishes he and Bucky could both go and hang out with Peter and the famed Aunt May whilst spilling paint everywhere. The mere idea sends his brain spinning with possibilities. One day, would they be able to do something like that? They could invite Sam too. He and Bucky got along pretty decently, right? Or maybe that was just because Sam was one of the few people who spent any time around Bucky aside from Steve. Ugh, there were so many plans to make and so many things to consider. What sort of things would Bucky be comfortable doing if they did hang out? Did he... like going in aircrafts to go pick up ovens too, maybe?

"Alright." Bucky's voice spoke up suddenly, startling him slightly. Steve turned to look at him with big eyes. Bucky was staring right at him, eyes a little inquisitive and perhaps even... hurt? Scared? Apprehensive? No, that wasn't right. Maybe. Steve sort of sucks at reading people. "Why're you so quiet? What happened?" 

Steve stared at him, squinting. Is this a trick question? Bucky was staring right back at him, arms crossed over his chest and expression full of hesitant expectation. Steve would definitely offend him if he mentioned the plan. Bucky's a former Russian superspy and would definitely know Steve was employing techniques used on aggressive stray animals. Bucky knows practically everything at this point. Ish. It really varies from topic to topic, but Steve isn't willing to risk it by giving him a rundown of his immersion tactics. 

"Nothing! Nothing happened, I swear. Sorry." Steve blurted out when he realized he'd been quiet too long. Bucky faltered slightly, cocking his head. Steve nervously scratched at the back of his neck. It's fine. It's all totally fine and he isn't going to accidentally break their friendship into a million pieces just by talking. "I just didn't want to annoy you by talking too much. I know you're not as into socializing as you used to be and I can be... overwhelming sometimes. I don't want to scare you off, that's all."

He punctuated this all with a bright smile and a nod, ignoring the way he was beginning to sweat. Bucky looked notably stricken which was definitely not what he'd been going for. Steve took a moment to pray for aid. From literally anyone. Thor's real and he's a god, right? There's got to be other gods out there and one of them must hear him. He needs someone to do him a solid right about now to make sure he didn't just nuke this entire situation.

The whole atmosphere had changed from an upright, sleeping turtle to a flipped turtle that was stuck on its back panicking. Steve's not a huge fan of it and wishes he'd just gone over to Peter's anyway to help paint the kitchen. Sort of. That would be a copout, Steve knows. Bucky looks like he needs him and Steve wants to be here for him at any cost. He'd just afraid he'll push him further away if he keeps trying too hard. The thought is terrifying. Steve isn't sure he could take losing Bucky a second time over. 

"You never annoy me, Steve. I just-- sometimes I..." Bucky trailed off, unsure. Steve's hand dropped into his lap. Bucky looked incredibly nervous all of a sudden, maybe even scared. It was uncharacteristic of him. Clearly neither of them knew what they were doing. "I'm not going anywhere, Steve. I swear I'm not. You're not either, are you?"

Steve felt disbelief fill him. Him? Leave? What the hell was Bucky snorting that he thought Steve would ever, in literally any plane of existence, leave? Bucky had to know by now that Steve would risk everything for him and more. 

"What? No, of course not!" Steve sputtered, eyes going wide with panic. He found himself scooting a little closer unbidden and stopped himself before he could invade Bucky's personal space. Especially when he saw the way Bucky drew back into himself at his approaching, folding in and looking off kilter. This was the most open Bucky'd been with Steve since coming to live here. "I'd never leave you, Buck. I just want to make sure I'm giving you enough space and not overwhelming you, that's all. I can be a lot sometimes, but you know I'd do anything for you. It's me and you, until the end of the line. Remember?" 

Bucky looked sad. Like, really sad. Steve resisted the urge to press his lips into a thin line and internally scream, red lights flashing in his mind's eye. He'd definitely made a misstep here, he's just not sure exactly what said misstep was. All he can really say to this situation is a very final, very distressed 'oh, shit'. How did he mess this up already? He should've stuck to nodding and shaking his head. Maybe shrugging too, just to have a healthy middle in there as an option. All Steve ever seems to do is upset Bucky these days.

"But why?" Bucky's voice sounds impossibly small when he asks, and Steve feels like he's just been punched in the gut. He looks up and meets Steve's eyes, sincere, scared, and with terrifying intent. "Steve, I-I... I hurt you. I almost killed you. I'm still dangerous and I've got over a dozen assassinations under my belt. I'm not a good person and.... a-and I'm not the same Bucky you remember and that you want. I'm different. I'm not a good person. You shouldn't be around me. It isn't safe and you deserve better than this. I know you feel like you have to keep clinging to me, but you... you don't. You deserve to let go. I think you should let go."

Hmmmmmmmm.

Steve stared at him, rightfully horrified. Situation misread? Situation misread. Bucky is staring at him all earnest, like he thinks Steve is going to agree with him somehow. How could Steve be so stupid? He wasn't annoyed with the constant chatter, he was afraid of himself and had self esteem issues. Steve is a fucking idiot. Of course Bucky has a poor self image. He should've asked. He'd just been so afraid to push and that's why he hadn't ever pried and-- shit. Wow, okay. Whole new perspective. This is bad. This is really just not great. Bucky is looking at him like he's expecting Steve to melt into the floor and never return. He looks ashamed, and beat down, and not reassured about anything at all.

Translation: Steve sucks at his job of being Bucky's Emotional Support Super Soldier and wants to bury himself six feet under approximately right this very second. He'd missed all this. Hadn't seen it at all! How long has he felt like this? How long has Steve let him feel like this? What has he done in the past to inadvertently solidify his doubts without even meaning to? Steve feels sick to his stomach.

It makes so much more sense like this. God, why is Steve so bad with facial expressions?! Why is he so insecure?! Bucky hasn't been avoiding him because he's annoying and overbearing. He's been avoiding him because he thinks he's bad for some god awful reason. He can't get it through his thick skull that Steve actually wants to stay around and is committed even though he did almost drown in a river and get his face bashed in so hard he felt it for a week, super healing or not. He regrets not telling Peter everything. He's about 90% sure Peter would've been able to tell him this was the issue if he'd just given forth the information. Hell, Sam too. Bucky, even, if Steve hadn't talked himself out of nagging out of fear. 

"Buck." Steve's voice came out embarrassingly wet. He scooted forward and reached out, not faltering when Bucky jolted and tensed. He wrapped his arms around him tightly as though he could convey everything with just his grasp alone. He was really glad he hadn't left to paint kitchen walls. Bucky was shaking in his arms, and Steve wished he knew how to make him stop. "Bucky, you are everything to me. I'm not going anywhere. You're not a horrible person and you aren't going to hurt me. You're one of the greatest men I know. We've both changed over the years and that's okay. Time does that, but you're still you and I'm still me, and we're still in this together. Anywhere you go, you can bet I'm coming with you. And anywhere I go, I really, really hope you'll come with me too."

Bucky hesitantly raised an arm to return to embrace, but his metal one stayed tightly pressed to his side. It was tense, not moving an inch. Like he feared it would come up and wrap around Steve's neck if he gave it an inch of leeway. He didn't trust himself. Steve clenched his eyes shut and took a few deep breaths now. He knew now. Bucky had told him and he knew, and he was going to fix this. 

"Steve." Bucky rasps out, Steve's shirt bunching in his fist as it curls. Steve holds him closer and tries not to panic. Now would be a highly inappropriate time to scream. "I almost killed you. I-If I hadn't dragged you out of that river--"

"But you did, which cancels it all out. It was the best day of my life, Buck. I got you back. And now you're here, and we're okay. It's all going to be okay." Steve cut him off, refusing to let him obsess over these awful thoughts any longer. "I trust you. You're a good man who was forced to do bad things and nobody blames you for it-- least of all me. I'm not going anywhere, Bucky. It's me and you."

Bucky shuddered in his grasp but Steve didn't let up. He had to fix this. He had to find a way to show Bucky that he's good and that Steve is going to leave him. A reassurance that Bucky can hold onto and see. Steve just doesn't know how or what to give him to do that. He wishes his words were enough, but with Bucky they never quite are. He's always been like that, not sure enough of himself to accept praise that flies his way.

"Me and you." Bucky repeats quietly. He sounds wistful, like it's a pipe dream he can't quite believe. Steve ignores the way his heart wrenches, gulping and holding his friend tighter. He'll fix this. He'll find a way to fix this.

~~

"I don't know how to fix this." Steve sniffled, head planted face down on the table. He looked like a crumbled up cardboard cutout. AKA extremely pathetic and depressed. It was a miracle Peter had put up with his pity party for so long. The kid is truly a saint, barring all the times he's not and is a total menace. "How do I let him know I love him and want him to stay by me forever? And moreover, how do I get him to believe it?"

"That bad, huh?" Peter raised a brow at him from where he sat across from him, chemistry textbook open. It's not that he actually needed it or anything. The teacher was just demanding they pull citations directly from the book, which was somehow harder than the actual assigned work.

"It's been a week and I've glimpsed him maybe once in passing, if that was even him. FRIDAY won't tell me where he is in the building and I can't get him to talk to me." Steve groaned, rolling his head to the side so Peter could see his dark circles and pasty face. He'd picked Peter up from school today in the minivan he recently purchased. Don't ask why-- all Steve is willing to say is that it's easier for transporting things and not as scary as driving a pickup. "I just-- How do I get him to see I'm serious? He and I fell asleep on the couch together after talking and I thought we'd made progress, but when I woke up he was gone, and now he's avoiding me! He obviously doesn't believe me!"

Steve rubbed at his tired eyes in a defeated manner. Peter sniffled a little, pursing his lips in thought. Steve had been tied all up in knots over the whole Bucky thing for the past forever, and Peter wanted nothing more than to help. It was a delicate situation. Steve had given him a more thorough rundown than the one he'd gotten on the Quinjet and Peter had come to the conclusion that yeah, Bucky was definitely insecure and avoiding Steve. Not because Steve's obnoxious, but because he doesn't think he deserves to hear Steve be obnoxious. Big difference, but Peter doesn't blame Steve for missing it. He probably would've too in his shoes.

Peter chewed at the inside of his cheek. There had to be something-- an idea they could use, an approach they could employ. What if... wait. Wait, wait. Holy shit. Steve loves Bucky, wants to show his commitment to him, and wants him to believe he's serious about all this. That's brilliant. How had Peter not thought of this sooner?! Steve had given him all the pieces and god dammit, Peter has put together the puzzle. There's no way this wouldn't work.

"You could propose. Like, marriage." Peter suggested, suddenly eager. Steve's head shot up so fast it looked like it probably made him dizzy. Peter grinned at the bug-eyed look he got, leaning forward slightly. "Dude, think about it! It's not like it has to be romantic, but it would show him that you're committed to him and give you guys a physical, legal tie that he won't be able to deny! It's perfect!"

Steve stared at him, cogs turning very slowly in his clunky, Steve-sized noggin. Peter was already throwing open his laptop as Steve had his come-to-Jesus moment across from him. And on the balcony of a bougie Starbucks, of all places. They're the only two out here though so it works. Steve had really needed the fresh air. He smelt like a stale saltine from all the wallowing. Good thing Peter had just discovered the solution to all their earthly problems. Sometimes he amazes even himself with his sheer genius.

"Oh my god." Steve breathed, sounding utterly delighted and stunned. He then deflated slightly, frowning. "He'd say no, though. If I could even find him to pop the question."

Peter paused. That was a fair point. Not to mention that he wasn't actually sure Bucky could get married whilst being on the type of probation he was actively on. But if it wasn't official it wouldn't be very convincing. They wanted to create a tight tie that Bucky couldn't possibly ignore. One to help him get rid of his self-doubts and fears. Steve wanted to prove his loyalty and was clearly super dedicated, and Bucky obviously loved him back.

"Well... what if we don't... ask?" Peter suggested slowly, cringing a bit at the incredulous look he got. "It would be for the greater good! I could hack in and totally fabricate it and get it into the system. Super smart, remember? Ned taught be everything he knows and I've watched like, a million Youtube tutorials in my free time. Plus, there was this one time when-- well. You know."

Steve squinted at him but Peter averted his gaze fast, which meant it was probably something illegal. What he was suggesting was also highly illegal. But it... it could work. It could actually, really work. They could always divorce later if Bucky met someone or decided it was awful, but this would show him for certain! Asking would get him a firm no and probably a horrified look to boot, as well as a trip to the psych ward when he was inevitable declared insane by his longtime friend. But Peter's right-- he is smart, and he could do this. Steve knows he can. What if this is the thing that gets Bucky to open up?

Having a tie to him like that would... it would admittedly be pretty nice. Steve isn't against it. In fact, it feels reassuring and makes him warm and fuzzy on the inside. It feels like a great idea! This new day and age is very progressive. Steve loves Bucky, Bucky loves Steve but is scared Steve is making a mistake because he thinks he's worthless and doesn't deserve love. Complicated equation, simple answer. This will show Bucky that Steve is all in. Until the end of the line. Literally, until death does them part. Steve is excited just thinking about it. 

"Bucky was legally dead up until his trial, and them immediately placed under watch. I'm... I'm not sure it's possible for him to get married. He'd have to have been married before the war or during it." Steve looked down at the table. The courts had pardoned Bucky from the Winter Soldier's crimes, but he was still to be kept under watch and tracked at all times. Like probation but way more serious. "I'm not sure he's got legal right to do those sorts of things right now. Someone would notice if you hacked in and did it, right?"

"Ugh. And Gay marriage wasn't legalized in New York until 2011, and he was still dead then. So there's no place to actually put the files-- they'd be like, null, since you can't put a new marriage certificate on a dead guy. You're right, though. The best way this works without us getting immediately caught is if you guys got married before, in the 30s or 40s." Peter frowned. His fingers tapped lightly on the keyboard, not actually pushing down any of the buttons. "Man, if only one of you had been born a woman. Or at least put down legally as... a woman..."

Peter slowly looked up and met Steve's eyes, staring. Steve stared back. They were having the exact same thought, Steve could tell. It was ludicrous. Really rather insane. But... but Bucky needs him and he needs reassurance. Steve would do anything for him. So what if Peter hacks in and changes a few meager details? He's still Steve and he's very in-tune with his own self-identity. This is all for reassurances sake anyway. It's already unconventional, so what if they mess around with a few more things?

"I am very secure in my masculinity." Steve admitted openly. 

"It would just be on paper. I mean, you'd still be a man." Peter wagered. Steve nodded, feeling more sure. Peter nodded back. "And if anyone asks, we just say the serum did it. Didn't all the files on it get burned anyway? So it couldn't be replicated?"

"I did look rather dainty before. It could pass." Steve offered, excited. "Everyone who could refute it is dead or has dementia severe enough that no one will believe them. And they did burn everything. The extent of what it did to me still isn't known."

Peter and Steve stared silently at each other for another moment longer. Peter's finger very slowly moved across the track pad. He clicked. Steve took a deep breath and decided to say fuck it. He survived being frozen in an iceberg for half a million goddamn years and Bucky somehow lived after falling off a train and getting intermediately tortured. They so deserve this win. 

"...You'd have been 18 in in 1936, right?" Peter asked, fingers beginning to fly. "And you were born in Brooklyn? That's who'd have your official birth certificate filed?"

Steve grinned and prepared himself to become a married woman. He wonders if this calls for wedding bands. He'll have to consult Google. 

Chapter Text

Steve's invested. Peter's invested. Everyone's invested! They'd made some real progress. Peter was good at hacking, but it was a time-consuming process no matter who you were. It required focus that Peter had trouble maintaining, but the kid had pulled through nonetheless and channeled everything into his efforts. Steve had felt like a useless idiot so he'd been making regular food runs and educating himself on female biology in the meantime. 

Wow, that sounds so incredibly bad. It's not like that. He's not watching porn-- he's about to get married and he's a loyal man, even if this is highly illegal. Steve's a rebellious guy, what can he say? 

Not the point. One day someone is going to uncover this fake marriage certificate in the system and it's going to hit the news. Sorry in advance to Bucky, but that isn't the part Steve's particularly worried about. When the press roots him out, Steve is going to have to hold a press conference. And he'll need ammunition-- proof he was once a girl. It's cover. He's studying. He hasn't had to do that since... well, ever. It's not like he stayed in school long enough for it. 

It's a lot of reading. Women have it a lot harder than Steve had ever realized, and now he feels like a horrible person. One who's ready to start a feminist movement to push for equality between genders, but you know. Steve discovers rather quickly that periods are probably the closest thing they have to proof that God isn't real, Thor's existence aside. An entire organ? Shedding itself? Because you didn't give it a baby? Steve used to murder Nazi's in his downtime but this may really make him sick. 

The swell of fondness that overwhelms Steve when Peter insists on not stopping makes his throat close up a little. It's almost enough to make him forget about the horrors of womanhood. He'd almost wanted to call the whole thing off after really researching. It felt bad lying and saying he was once a woman when he wasn't and had never undergone those hardships, but Peter had looked him in the eyes and told him that the ladies of the world would so want this for him. After all his reading, Steve had agreed and instead sworn to himself to be as respectful about it as possible.

Sometimes being best friends with Peter felt like a fever dream. What the fuck was going on? Steve sure doesn't know. He's just along for the ride. Peter is an energetic whirlwind of spontaneous decisions. They get along so well because Steve has so far been able to 100% get behind everything he does, and vice versa. Same goes for right now. He'd been a little unsure at first, but this was for Bucky. He'd offered to wait until morning, but Peter had promised it wasn't breaking and entering of Peter knew them well enough. Sounded plausible and completely correct to Steve.

"Ned, we need you-- stop screaming, it's just me-- we need you to help with this!" 

Ned clamped his mouth shut, eyes bulging so wide they likely would've popped right out of his head were he not laying down. Steve gave a polite sort of smile and offered a small wave that he aborted halfway through when he decided it was too awkward. He and Peter had been relentlessly working but had hit a roadblock. Said roadblock being that Shield also had a plethora of files on Steve, and try as Peter might, he couldn't seem to weasel his way in to change them on his own. At least not without someone being able to find evidence of the change if they went back and looked later.

Hence, the four AM visit to Ned Leeds. Peter had insisted that Ned was his Guy In The Chair (insert trademark here). Steve sort of had no idea what that was but figured that this just meant that Ned was the Bucky to Peter's Steve. Minus the marriage, but Steve is sure they'd be considering this avenue too if Ned had been kidnapped and tortured for approximately 70 years whilst Peter stayed in stasis in the throes of the Arctic Ocean.

"I am so hallucinating right now." Ned breathed, eyes never leaving Steve's imposing form. As though he hadn't just watched the man struggle to get himself through Ned's criminally small window for seven minutes straight before he finally stumbled in and almost fell on his face. It was by the grace of god and Peter's fast reflexes that he didn't break his nose on the cold hardwood. "This is the coolest dream ever."

"What? No! I told you about Steve, bro." Peter insisted, ripping the blanket of Ned mercilessly. Steve swallowed his bark of laughter and turned his face to the side, closing his eyes. The kid was wearing a set of Captain America pajamas. Peter had a matching pair. "Remember how you told me about that online friend you have? The Discord guy named PoolOfDeadPeople? You told me he's your soul brother even though all you talk about is Mexican food and what major politician is going to die next, and I told you that Mr. Steve and I have the same thing? This is him!"

Ned made a keening noise that made it sound like he was maybe, possibly, dying. Steve gave his friendliest grin to try and reassure him. It didn't help. Peter grinned too though, seeming unperturbed as Ned seemed to mentally reset himself. Steve had never watched a teenager recalibrate in real time. Ned wheezed concerningly. 

"Y-You talk about Mexican food and political assassinations with Captain America?" Ned's eyes finally darted away from Steve to look at Peter before they were back on Steve again. Ned pushed himself up on his elbows, expression twisting. "Wait, you're soul brothers with Captain America and you didn't even tell me? Bro!" 

"I heavily implied it! Come on, man!" Peter exclaimed, tugging Ned upright. Ned groaned. "I came here for a reason, you know! We need your help with something really important. Like, Avenger's level important. Lives are at stake and if you don't get up right now, who knows what'll happen!"

Steve made a sound of denial, slapping at Peter's head. The kid ducked. 

"What? Don't tell him that. You're a horrible person." Steve insisted half-heartedly. It was sort of super important. Now that Steve knew what was up with Bucky and now that Bucky knew that Steve knew what was up with Bucky, time was of the essence. The clock was ticking and Steve needed to provide reassurance as soon as possible. The plan was in motion and it needed to stay that way! 

"Hell's hot. I'll save you a seat." Peter griped back, the bags under his eyes speaking to the treacherous minefield he'd traversed through his hacking attempts. Ned looked between them with big eyes like he was witnessing some sort of miracle. Maybe he was, all his fanboy dreams coming true because Spiderman and Captain America are thick as thieves right before his very eyes and asking for his help. "Come on, Ned. Can you help us hack Shield?" 

Ned stared at them for a moment. Peter stared back with hopeful, earnest eyes. Steve wondered if he should mirror the expression or step back and let them hash this out. Hard to say, really. The super soldier sniffed slightly. You know, despite how late it had gotten, he really didn't feel all that tired. Peter didn't seem to either. Exhausted from his endless working, sure, but actually sleepy? Maybe it was an enhanced person thing. Or maybe it was just the coffee running through their veins. 

"Bro, why is that even a question?" Ned asked after a moment, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He grinned. "Of course I want to help you hack shield!" 

~~~~~~~~

Steve knows next to nothing about hacking but he gets the distinct impression that he just bore witness to something incredibly impressive.

"Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. Captain America, sir." Ned pushed back from his desk smugly, his rickety rolling chair giving a precarious creak as he did so. The beginnings of the day's sunrise were just now starting to peek through the windows, painting Ned's room golden in their victory. "How do you feel?"

"Married." Steve reported dutifully. Peter clapped him on the back hard enough for him to lurch forward slightly. He eyeballed the kid. He was really never going to get used to that. How come Peter gets to be simultaneously scrawny and beefed up? Steve had gotten blown up like a beachball. He shook his head slightly, gaze flitting back over to Ned. "Then it's really... I mean..."

"It's done!" Peter confirmed, clapping his hands together in victory and rubbing them together. He looked a little rabid, actually. His hair was askew, the shadows of his face seemed dramatized, and-- wait, why was Steve judging? He probably looked just as bad, if not worse. "Steve, you're a married woman. Man, Twitter is going to have a field day when somebody inevitably finds out. I can just smell the fanfiction."

"The what?" Steve's expression twisted, but he was pointedly ignored. Ugh. Come on, he's hip and cool too! 

"Oh, man. I didn't even think about that. I'm going to have to avoid the Avengers tag for months! I don't think any amount of filters will be able to spare me." Ned gasped out, suddenly distressed. He looked at his laptop like it was the one at fault in this situation. "This sucks. I guess I better start making collections now. Who knows-- they could find out in days, or it could be years."

"One can never be too cautious. I can send you my bookmarks, if you want." Peter offered. Ned looked grateful and Steve decided abruptly that he absolutely, under no circumstances, wanted to know anymore. It was most likely one of those coveted teenage things that a fossil like him wouldn't understand anyway. That, or he'd be horrified by it. He got the distinct sense that it was the latter just from looking at the grief on Ned's face as he angled the laptop away from Steve's view. 

Wow. Just like that, he was... he was married. He and Bucky Barnes were currently, actively, actually married. They'd done it! They'd been legally married since 1936! Looking back at all their memories together, it sure felt like it. Bucky had been with him through sickness and through health. Hell, they'd gone to war together. That felt pretty telling to Steve. He'd followed Bucky, and Bucky had followed him right back. And now they had paper documentation to solidify their otherwise intangible bond.

Is this what being a genius feels like? Tony has it better than he'll ever know. The pride Steve feels right now is so solid it may actually be taking a physical form in his chest. Peter holds his hand out to him and Steve doesn't hesitate to participate in their secret handshake, something that smells a lot like victory wafting through the air. They'd hacked shield. Steve is now effectively a woman by birth. He's also had a husband for several decades. When you put it that way, his existence sounds pretty goddamn fruitful. 

"There's no way he won't know how dedicated you are to him now. This is undeniably proof that you're not going anywhere. He can't possibly deny it or have doubts." Peter said surely. Steve nodded widely in agreement. Peter stretched his arms above him until something audibly popped. Ned paused in his violent clicking, eyeing him in slight disgust as his back gave a deafening crack. "Wow. That was the worst thing I've ever had to do."

"The back cracking or the hours of nonstop labor? I think my brain may have melted." Steve admitted. He stopped and thought about it, squinting. "If I ever really had one to begin with. I'm not even really sure what you just did."

"Broke the law." Peter looked wistful. "In so many ways." 

Ned nodded solemnly in agreement. Steve shrugged. If they got caught he had like, tons of cards he could pull. He's Captain America. He could surely keep himself and a couple of kids out of jail, right? And if not him, then Tony definitely could. Stark had made Peter's suit so he's got to be, rationally speaking, at least halfway invested in the kid. Even if he hasn't reached out to him in ages. Speaking of which, what's up with that? You give a teenager a supersuit and then ignore them indefinitely? That sounded not correct.

Steve smiled to himself, feeling warm and buttery on the inside. Success curled through him like wisps of flame, wiping away the weariness he'd accumulated over the past few hours. Hacking was tedious and meticulous, Steve had observed. How Peter and Ned processed any of what crossed the screen could not even begin to comprehend in Steve's 40s-set mind. It just seemed so impossible. Technology was a wonder he wasn't sure he'd ever fully adjust to.

Ned was a good kid and an even better friend, and he sleepily bid them goodbye as they made back through his window. Steve grimaced as he tried to contort himself through, this time going head first instead of legs first. His shoulders were wider than the window, so he had to shimmy diagonally and pray he didn't get stuck. Peter took plenty of pictures as he struggled which was rude but absolutely fair. He'd do the same thing.

Peter ended up on Steve's back, too beat down to move another muscle. Steve was in a cheery mood and certainly didn't mind. For all his arachnid strength, Peter weighed about as much as a sack of flour. Something about spider logic and aerodynamic potential. Steve really doesn't know. Though, Peter's previous comments about spiders having brains big enough to push their organs into their limbs had made him contemplatively gaze off into the distance for a while. 

"Your liver isn't like, in your thigh or something, right?" Steve asked, mildly concerned. What if got stabbed in the arm one day and his heart was just... in there, or something? Was that possible?

"I mean, probably not. Spiders have their brains located above their stomachs. Mine is still in my head as far as I know, and I'd think I'd have noticed if it grew." Peter said halfheartedly, draped over the super soldier like a dead deer being hauled in after a hunt. Steve marched back in the direction of the teen's apartment, determined to order them celebratory pizza. He would've offered to get Ned some too if the boy hadn't been so intently focused on his... fanfiction collecting. Whatever that was. Steve still doesn't want to know. 

"As far as you know." Steve muttered dubiously. "That's not reassuring at all. Say, how do you reckon I get Bucky's ring size? I want to get them as soon as possible. Then I can corner him and break the news. Then he'll know I'm dead serious." 

"Dead Sirius? Too soon." Peter said obnoxiously. Steve rolled his eyes, and Peter snorted. "Mr. Stark probably does maintenance on his metal arm, right? He'd totally know. Just shoot him a text or something." 

"He stopped answering my texts when I asked him how to change channels on the TV." Steve said honestly. Peter hummed in a considering sort of way.

"Does he have Snapchat?" Peter asked. Steve made a face. What-chat?

~~~~~~~

Tony blinked blearily at the screen. Back to back meetings piled onto his generalized lack of sleep had left him feeling like a shriveled up apricot. He probably looked like one too but wasn't willing to trudge over to the mirror to confirm. It was a small miracle he'd managed to fumble his phone out of his pocket. He'd almost missed the buzz it gave, feeling more out of it than he did that one time in college he tried-- you get it.

Though, he wasn't entirely unconvinced he hadn't been slipped something. It took him a good moment to process what his phone was showing him, and then another good moment to register that this was actually happening. Steve had actually used to Snapchat Tony made him. And it was... well, horrifying.

It was a slightly blurry selfie Steve had taken of himself. His face was way too close to the screen and only half in frame, the furrow in his brows visible. There was an semi-unidentifiable blob strewn out on a vaguely-familiar couch behind him. He could just barely discern a head of brown hair poking out from beneath a mound of blankets that made up said blob in question. There was also what appeared to be-- if he wasn't mistaken-- an actual fire in the kitchen behind them. 

It was a small solace that it wasn't any of his kitchens as far as he could tell. Very small. Tony distantly wonders if he should call his lawyers now and tell them to brace for fucking impact. Captain America being involved in the causation of a public fire of any kind-- Tony shivers just thinking about it. 

"What is Bucky's ring size? For his ring finger. -Steve." Is what the photo had come captioned with. Nothing about the flames behind them. What's even on fire back there? Is that a toaster oven? Is Steve aware or is his nose just blind to the smell of smoke? Tony feels dismayed. He's not sure why the hell he'd ever expected better. He should stop while he's ahead and let Steve deal with it. His problems are his problems.

Tony has so much to do it isn't even funny. He still has to contact the Spiderkid and see what's up with that. His lovingly titled "Paperwork Stack From Hell" has somehow grown double in size and continues to do so every time he dares whittle it down. Tony suspects Pepper is the cause but can't voice his suspicions without risking her raining down upon him like a banshee ascended from the ruptured cracks of the ninth circle itself. Thus: he must suffer in silence as a victim of unjust crime. His life is a tragedy.

After a moment of contemplation in which Tony questions a lot on an existential level he truly shouldn't touch until all his mental facilities are in function, he types in a simple '11' and shoots it off. That's all he's going to give. Anything to get Steve off his back. Steve's an adult: he can endanger whatever teenagers he so pleases at his own risk. 

Actually, never mind the potential act of arson. Why's he want Barnes' ring size in the first place? Is he... planning to pop the question? Tony hadn't thought the relationship was like that but according to Rhodey, the army can get pretty gay. Steve grew up in a time where it was less than acceptable, so he would've been conditioned to hide it. Tony rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling in dismay. Is this happening to him right now? Is any of this real?

"This is all a horrible nightmare." Tony told himself, voice a mutter. What's the point of being rich if he doesn't get to enjoy it? He wants to relax and do fun science stuff. Harass super arachnid kids and make sure they're not... he doesn't know. Suicidal? Antisocial? Endlessly depressed? "This is all a horrible nightmare and tomorrow I'm going to wake up and go on strike."

"Boss, I must advise against that course of action, as it could result in your untimely termination." FRIDAY relayed. Tony felt the last dredges of his lifeforce shrivel up and die, despair throwing its head back in the pit of his gut and howling. "Though sleep is much recommended." 

Tony, wisely, chose not to respond.