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Chapter Text

Being pardoned was an amazing feeling. One of the best things one could feel. Steve Grant Rogers, "Captain America", has been pardoned for his "war Crimes", as well as (what the people called them) "The Rogue Avengers". Bucky was no longer wanted due to Wakanda helping him, and getting rid of those Trigger Words, and giving him a new arm. And, The Accords were sorted.

Well, "sorted" isn't exactly what happened. It wasn't in a "we sat down and talked it out" way, it was in a "it was proven to fail" way.

There was an alien attack in the middle of New York (why not Barbados?), and the UN were sat around a long table, in fancy suits and safe, debating on if the remaining Avengers should go and help, or if the army was going to go and sort it out. Tony and James' suits were withheld, Vision wasn't allowed to go, T'Challa was busy and wasn't given permission to leave, so while the UN were debating, the Vigilantes of New York saved the day.

These vigilantes extended to; Spider-Man - a man who patrolled Queens and helped little old ladies cross the street; Daredevil - a man who was rather brutal and patrolled Hell's Kitchen; Deadpool - an insane mercenary who hung around Sister Margret's; The Punisher - a man wanted with a killing streak around Hell's Kitchen; Iron Fist - a man who had magic (?) or chi; Luke Cage - a man who was incredibly strong and patrolled Harlem; Jessica Jones - a drunk P.I.; and Clint Barton, who had promptly said "fuck my ankle tag, they need me", as he had been under house arrest in New York.

By the time the UN had said "yes, we should send in the remaining Avengers", the vigilantes had gone to get Shwarma, winding down from of fight well won. The next thing the UN knew, people were pulling out of the Accords, and the "Rogue Avengers" were being pardoned, with the police listening to the Vigilantes.

Steve Grant Rogers didn't say "I told you so", laughing and index finger pointing mockingly at Tony and the Government, instead he stayed silent, quiet and contempt. Sat on the sofa, his head in his hands, while he debated his next move.

Tony was both wary and happy that The Rogue Avengers were back in the building. It had been killing him to be alone, to not have his old friends, anyone could see it. He was happy that things were going back to normal.

Except, it wasn't.

Steve knew Tony probably wanted the team to go back to normal. But, Steve couldn't. Did Steve want to be an Avenger forever? Watching the vigilantes who stepped up when the Avengers didn't brought him back to his days in Brooklyn, back alley fights, defending peoples honours, trying to protect people, and effectively getting the shit beaten out of him in return. Not to mention, being on the run allowed him to work much like a vigilante, and it was good, Steve enjoyed it, and it felt like he was doing good for once.

Did he want to be an Avenger forever? To just go for the big guns, or as Sam, his boyfriend, says "the Big Three; Androids, aliens, and wizards". What about the ones on the ground? The people who are abused, raped, robbed?

When he voiced these questioned to Bucky and Sam, they said, "what do you want to do? We'll have your back."

So, here Steve Rogers was. He stood up on an apartment building in Brooklyn, overlooking the dark streets, watching people walk about, heads down, or chattering, or drunk, or even high. The moon was bright, but that meant nothing to criminals.

But, this brought back Steve's dilemma. As he rocked on his feet, he thought, unsure of what he should do. Should he be helping people, or should he just go back to the Avengers Compound? Logically, he should be out there, going into alleys and helping people, but would people take too kindly to that? What if hit someone too hard? Well, one might argue they deserve it, but... for robbers who are trying to get by, would it be deserved?

He turned with a defeated sigh after his thoughts, what was he thinking? Nobody would take too kindly to him, I mean... to go from a "Big Time Avenger" turned "War Criminal" and turned to "Vigilante", nobody would be too happy about that.

He took a few steps away, when suddenly there was a scream. A high pitched, terrified scream, mixed with panicked sobs, of a female yelling, "help! Please! Stop it, don't touch me! Officer's! Spider-Man! Deadpool! Anyone!"

No longer thinking or debating if he would be welcomed, Steve turned and didn't hesitate. He rushed over to the edge of the building and ran in the direction of the screaming, and jumped down, landing on the dirty, wet floor with a thud. There was a woman, pinned against the cold, filthy wall, with a greasy man holding her there, pulling up her skirt. Steve felt queasy, he couldn't lie.

"Hey!" Snapped Steve, getting the mans attention. "Wanna leave her alone?"

The woman looked over with teary, blue eyes, her chest shuddering and sobbing, and gasped as the man covered her mouth.

"Captain America," greeted the man, scoffing. "Dis is a bit below ya pay grade, innit?" He asked, sarcastically. He snorted, sneering as his nose scrunched up, "go fight some aliens 'r somethin'."

Steve paled; he hated that. Hated that people such as this guy got away with what they did, and the Avengers did nothing because it was "below their pay grade". And, it must be, or something akin to that? I mean, where's Tony Stark?

Squaring his shoulders, chin out, Steve said, "no."

The guy slowly looked to Steve, and tightened his grip on the frightened woman, "what?"

"Let her go, or else," Steve warned.

The guy glared, and turned to the woman, and leaned into her ear. That was the wrong move apparently, as Steve rushed forward, and tore the man away, slamming his fist into his face. But, he pulled his punch, breaking the guys nose, but not knocking him out or killing him, like he could have.

Falling to the floor, the guy looked up, "what da hell?!" He scrambled up, clawing at the floor.

Steve stood in front of the guy, blocking him from the woman's view. "Ma'am can you call the police?"

The woman leaned on the wall, panting, and covered her mouth, panting. "Y-yes..." She pulled out her phone, and began calling 911.

The guy got up, and yelled, running at Steve, his fist up and threw a punch. Steve caught it with ease, and squeezed slightly, breaking his fingers, and kneed the guys stomach, and the guy fell, panting.

Steve hesitated; what was the procedure for a first time vigilante with a rapist? It's certainly not death. Tie up and leave for the cops, that's the answer. Is there anything around here? Wire, there's wire... he pulled out the long wire from the trash and wrapped it around the man, effectively tying him up.

He was vaguely aware he had to leave. He was working outside of the law right now, but this woman needed help.

She was off the phone now, calming down, as she eyed him, "t-thank you."

Steve smiled softly, "no problem ma'am." He moved to her, yet stayed a distance as to not overwhelm her. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah..." The woman stuttered, eyeing him and the rapist. "W-what do I say when the cops get here?"

"What he was doing to you," Steve said. "Just the truth. And, that someone saved you."

The woman nodded, "r-right..."

Steve held his arm out, "let's get you into the light." He said, eyeing the street lamp, and the people filtering down the street. She took his arm, and he led her out, "a-are you going to be okay, until the police come?" What was he meant to do? Stay here?

"Yeah," smiled the woman, a lot better now she was out of the weed smelling alley. "Yeah, you go and be Captain America."

Steve smiled, and let go, "stay safe." He backed up, watching her, until he was in the alleyway, and climbing up the fire escape.

Huh, that was pretty awesome.

I could do this all day.

I can't do this all day, Steve thought in pain. He lay on his back in a dumpster, full of food and bugs, and dirt, blood dripping from his mouth and head, his nose bent and twisted. His eye was tender, so that was definitely bruised, and his jaw was aching. There was a cut on his leg, a bit too deep and wide, and his shoulder was dislocated.

How did he manage to get dumped in a dumpster, one might ask. Well; his new streak of vigilante-ism led him to the outskirts of Brooklyn, travelling to Queens. He had stopped rapists, petty theft, muggings, acts of racism - you name it, he's dealt with it.

But, this? He hates to admit it, but he bit off more than he could chew. It had started with a simple mugging turned big, suddenly, there was more than one guy, there was ten; they were vicious.

Steve is used to aliens, magic and guns, but this was crowbars, tire irons, bats, brass knuckles, knives and fists. Beat him black and blue, and dumped him in a dumpster.

Tired and in pain, Steve's eyes fluttered closed, just as he saw a figure peak over the dumpster and mutter, "oh shit."

Peter Parker was not your average teenager. He was a bit of a nerd who could graduate to MIT right now if he so wished, he (begrudgingly) interned at Stark Industries (though at first it was a cover), though mainly worked at Rand Enterprises, with a bit of help towards Nelson, Murdock and Page, and he was a vigilante known as Spider-Man. He's been in the vigilante business nearing two years now, coming on three, and while he was no expert he knew exactly what he was doing.

He had a burner phone with the vigilantes numbers on, including Claire's, so when he came across a bleeding Captain America, passed out in a dumpster behind Bleeding Fist's Steak House hideout, he muttered, "oh shit.", then promptly called Claire, grabbing Rogers shield, and took off to a safe house in Queens.

Claire was already there, waiting for them, "do I have to look after another dumbass vigilante?" She asked, not at all impressed, her arms crossed.

Peter lay Rogers down on the sofa, and looked to her, "I have no idea. Just, help him?"

Claire sighed, and nodded, "of course." She pulled out her bulky first aid kit, and pulled out pain killers for when he woke up, and got to work cleaning and stitching wounds.

"He'll burn through the pain killers in seconds Claire, and he heals fast too." Peter said, moving to the kitchen.

Claire paused, and looked over, "fast like you?"

Peter waved his hand in an unsure manner, "kind of. Not as fast as me broken bones wise, but cuts and bruises, yeah."

Claire hummed, and looked down to Rogers shoulder. "This is gonna hurt him," she whispered, and grabbed his shoulder, popping it into place, and wrapped it, ignoring how the unconscious body hissed in pain.

Peter winced, and looked away as she began stitching the long cut on Rogers leg. He looked around his kitchen, and sighed. It was only a safe house, one that he crashed in when his injuries became excruciatingly painful, and needed to rest. Though, the amusing part was that there was another safe house not too far from here that belonged to Frank Castle, and he and Frank would wind up in each others at times, have a good laugh about it, make sure the other was okay, then would be on their way.

However, back to the reason why he was bringing up it's a safe house; it only had the necessities. That meant, it had a sofa and a bed, and had a microwave, oven, and a stove, with a freezer and a cabinet, full of dry food and frozen food. There was a working sink, and there were plates and glasses, and a working heater. And of course, a first aid kit.

He moved to the freezer, and knelt, opening it and looking through the things; he had a lot of pizza's. He turned on the oven, and brought out two plates, and two glasses. He turned to Rogers, and crossed his arms, watching Claire pack her things.

"Make sure he eats and drinks plenty of water," Claire said, tone serious. "You owe me."

"You love me really," grinned Peter, as Claire rolled her eyes, and walked out. She didn't even live in the area, and yet she hauled ass to get there. Oh, Peter is so paying her and giving her a cake.

"Alright Rogers, let's hope you wake up soon."

There was a pain in his leg, and a dull throbbing in his shoulder, his nose numb. Slowly, Steve opened his eyes and groaned, looking around. Where was he?

"All right, Captain?"

Steve looked over, eyes wide in shock, "Queens?"

Spider-Man nodded his head, his mask rolled up to his nose and eating a pizza, and sat on the counter. "I've made pizza," he said, jerking his head to table. "Eat." He reached over, and pulled out a glass, filling it with water and set it on the table.

Steve slowly sat up, and winced, holding his side.

Spider-Man looked up quickly, "stay down! You've bruised your ribs." He moved over, and handed over a pizza.

Steve took it, and eyed him and the pizza, "where am I?"

"A safe house in Queens," Spider-Man said, shrugging. "What are you doing in Queens?"

"Well," Steve hesitated, and took a bite, relaxing instantly. "I was out, in Brooklyn... and uh, well... I might have been, you... y'know?" He gestured to Spider-Man, unsure how he could describe it.

"Vigilante-ing?"

Steve nodded, looking to the pizza. Would Spider-Man be mad? I mean, this is something new, and he did move into Spider-Man's territory.

"Well, you certainly got into trouble." Laughed Spider-Man, "you ended up fighting the Bleeding Fists."

Steve looked up sharply, "well why aren't you?"

"What you saw was the last of the Bleeding Fists, what do you think I've been doing?" Asked Spider-Man, tilting his head. "They had a lot of hide outs scattered around Queens, I've been taking them down. That was the last one, and the most powerful."

Steve winced, "I'm sorry — "

Spider-Man waved a hand, "stop. You didn't know." He smirked, "though I suggest you stay in Brooklyn, and stay away from Hell's Kitchen."

Steve looked up, confused, "Hell's Kitchen?"

Snorting, Spider-Man grinned, "you wanna piss off Daredevil and The Punisher?"

Steve's heard of them; Daredevil is brutal and The Punisher is all guns and death. He shook his head, "staying away from Hell's Kitchen."

Spider-Man smiled, "though, you can come and visit me in Queens. I've never seen someone get that beat up." He eyed Steve's legs, "stay here, get better." He pulled out a pad, and wrote down a number, handing it to Steve, "here's my number. Call if you need me."

Steve couldn't believe it... he has Spider-Man's number!

"Do you have any idea how worried you made us?!" Snapped Sam, pacing in their bedroom.

Bucky was standing still, staring, "you came home at five in the morning, and didn't think to tell us you would be late?"

Steve sat on the bed, looking down sadly, "I'm sorry, but I got a bit hurt..." He explained, fingers intertwined.

"We can tell!" Screeched Sam, eyeing Steve's bruised eye. With a sigh, he sat next to his boyfriend, and kissed his cheek, "talk to us, Steve... what happened?"

Bucky sat on the other side of Steve, and took his hand gently, squeezing.

Steve looked down, "uh, some group called Bleeding Fist's. Ended up in Queens... Spider-Man saved me..."

"Tony's kid?" Asked Bucky, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, I guess?" Steve said, unsure. He had no idea who Spider-Man was, and while he sounded young, (twenty three? Four?), he clearly knew what he was doing. Maybe, he could stand to learn a few things?

"You're pulling your punches."

Steve's back straightened at that, as he glared down at the guy who was about to beat on a poor, old defenceless woman, and turned to see, "Queens."

"Brooklyn," came Spider-Man's teasing voice.

The guy scampered up, and went to run away, but was caught by Spider-Man's webbing, and then yanked back, and suddenly, webbed up. Spider-Man landed on the ground in a crouch, and asked, "are you alright, ma'am?"

The woman smiled, old and tired, "oh yes, thank you very much... I-I would call the police, but... well, I..." She faltered, and looked down, as if ashamed; she didn't have a phone.

Steve went to pull out his phone, but Spider-Man said, "already been called ma'am. Would you like us to stay with you?"

The woman shook her head, "no, no dearies. And, thank you."

Spider-Man nodded and smiled, the eyes of the mask lifting, "of course. Happy to help." He crawled up the wall, and onto the roof.

Steve smiled to the woman and followed up the fire escape. He paused, seeing Spider-Man in the middle of the roof, before walking over. "So, what are you doing here? Little far from Queens."

Spider-Man shrugged, "yeah, well... I used to venture out and patrol here some times. Old habits die hard." He crossed his arms, "you're pulling your punches."

"Yes, well... I don't want to kill anyone..." Steve reasoned, swallowing.

"You're pulling your punches too much, you didn't even leave a bruise. He feared you because your burly," Spider-Man reasoned, eyeing Steve's knuckles. They weren't bloody or even bruised. "Tell me, why not punch harder? What's the worry?"

"I hurt someone too much, or I... I hurt someone who doesn't deserve it..."

Spider-Man hummed, and nodded, "well... I say everyone who breaks the law deserves a black eye. But, mugging is different. If they look scared, or nervous, or if they jittery, it's usually a first time offence. I usually let them off with a warning, and refer them to a place to help them if they're homeless or struggling, if they don't agree, I give 'em a black eye. Anyone else, it's free real estate."

Steve looked up, "but... how much is too much, or not enough?"

"Depends on how you fight normally..." Spider-Man shrugged, "how hard, light and average you punch. I could show you, if you're up for it?"

Steve thought, silent and careful,"the Avengers are having a training day tomorrow. You're more than welcome to come?"

Spider-Man nodded, "see you then."

Peter pulled out his old suit... not his first suit, not his third suit, and not his fourth. No, he was packing away his fourth with a sad sigh, and pulled on his second suit.

"Hello again Peter," came KAREN's (which stood for Kick Ass Really Expressive - Naturally) voice.

Peter grinned sadly, "hey KAREN." He had reworked KAREN to create fake updates and locations, and created his own A.I. for his fourth suit, (made by Melvin Potter), which he called DIANA, that ran throughout his apartment. He opened the window. "Ready for a big day?" He asked, swinging out, heading to the Avenger's Compound, at first swinging between buildings.

"Big day?"

"Yeah, Rogers asked me to join in on training," Peter said.

"Yes, of course. Will you be training him, Peter?"

"Oh, Gosh no!" Peter said, censoring himself out of habit. What with Matt being Catholic, Peter found himself being told "language" too often with dragging the Lord's name into his messes, so he censors himself. "He's an Avenger! He just needs help knowing how hard to punch."

The guy never even picks up his shield. He should do, defend himself! If he doesn't, he'll be "Captain America, the guy who can't throw a good punch and is an idiot".

"True, however. He doesn't seem to know how to "vigilante"."

Peter couldn't deny that. As he found himself swinging through trees now, he said, "alright, fair. But, he'll be fine. I'm sure he'll figure it out!"

"If you say so," KAREN said, sounding unsure. You know; if an AI could sound unsure.

Steve was nervous to say the least. Not scared, but nervous. He was the first, and the only one in the training room, and he's been pounding on a punching bag. Spider-Man's been in the vigilante game a lot long than he has, and Steve doesn't have much to offer... what if he's appalling, and Spider-Man says "deal with it yourself"? Could he handle that?

"All right, Brooklyn?"

Steve turned to see Spider-Man sat on the wall, "Queens." His heart sped up, thundering in his chest, and his hands began to sweat. Oh god, this is it. Spider-Man is going to see he's a loser, and unable to conform to vigilante-ism!

"Relax dude, you're hearts racing," Spider-Man said, jumping down.

"Y-you can hear my heart?" Steve asked, unsure if the man was joking.

Spider-Man grinned, his eyes crinkling, "yeah. I can also smell your sweat, practically taste it, so chill." He moved over, and patted Steve's shoulder, then moved to the punching bags. He picked one up, "this is different..."

"Made especially for me," Steve said, arms crossed.

Humming, Spider-Man set it back down, and picked up one of the ordinary ones. He hung three up, then nodded to them, "right... I want you to punch each one. One lightly, one average and one full force."

Steve hesitated, wondering how this would help, but did so. He punched the left one lightly, it barely moved, a slight jolt, then the middle one swung, and there was a slight dent from his knuckles, then the right flung off the hinges.

Spider-Man's eyes widened, "oh wow..." He grabbed the bag and put it back. "Right. So, we need between average and full force." He put his hand between the middle and right punching bag, "injured but not dead." He said, "if it's a first time mugging, I want your average."

Steve nodded, "right. I can do that."

"Sexism and racism doesn't exist in this job, if they're a bad guy, get them. If they're a good guy, save them." Spider-Man said, knowing exactly how conflicted Steve felt about hitting a woman, it was as if he could read Steve's mind before Steve could think it.

Wait, can Spider-Man read his future thoughts? That would be so cool... okay, so he might be fanboying over Spider-Man just a bit, but he couldn't help it! Guy held up a jetway that Steve dropped on him, and stole his shield!

"Okay," Steve swallowed.

"Well, look at this!"

The two turned to see Sam and Bucky, flagged by the other Avengers.

"Hey Clint!" Called Spider-Man, waving with a friendly tone.

Clint grinned, "hey Spidey! How's you and your girl?"

Spider-Man rubbed the back of his neck, "oh, shut up!" He looked to Tony, and nodded, serious, "Mr. Stark."

"Hey Spider-Man," Tony said, tensely, with a tight smile.

Something's happened since Germany, Steve realised. But, what?

"What're you doing here?" Asked Wanda, confused, and unimpressed.

Steve answered for him, "I invited him. I wanted to see how to fight."

Wanda tilted her head, "you want to learn how to fight?"

"It's a different ball game out on the streets," Steve said, shrugging, not at all embarrassed.

Clint grinned, "you're telling me. Though, it's fun with Deadpool!"

Spider-Man's shoulders hunched, sounding so fond, yet tired, "good ol' DP."

"How does Team Red get anything done?" Asked Clint, with a cheeky grin.

Spider-Man scowled, and glared, "don't call us Team Red."

Clint laughed, and walked off, "come on Natasha, train with me."

Steve looked to Bucky, and jerked his head, "wanna train?"

"Sure," Bucky smiled.

Peter stayed away from Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. He watched as the group split off to spar; though Bruce stayed in the corner, reading. Wanda and Natasha teamed up and fought - Natasha was winning, with Vision helping Wanda control her powers. Tony was watching Peter, eyes sad and desperate, which allowed for James to ultimately beat him in sparring. Sam Wilson was standing with Thor, the two not sparring as they weren't on the same level, (if Scott was here, he's heard Sam and Scott spar), but watching Steve and Bucky spar.

Peter watched Steve carefully. The two were full on sparring, shields and metal fists. The boy noticed Steve favoured his top half, and left his lower half exposed. Makes sense really, after all, on a mission they're gunning to kill you so will be hoping for a lucky shot at Steve's head or chest, but out in back alleyways? They're stupid, sure, but smart; they'll go for Steve's legs and back.

He tilted his head and noted how all their hearts were steady, besides Clint's and Stark's. Their hearts were old and withered. Vision's heart wasn't really heart, it was the stone in his head, and it had a hum, slow and steady.

Steve's heart was naturally faster than average, but it was steady even now.

He kept watching, and clapped when Steve won.

Stark moved over, "so, Spidey — "

"Stark," greeted Peter, coldly. Yes, he interns at Stark Industries, but that's as far as his connection goes.

"How've you been?" Coughed Stark, nervously. "I haven't seen you at any Team Iron Man Meet Ups; happens everything Thursday!" He said, jokingly, as if to say Peter's not been around for months and years since The Vulture, since EDITH, since... the battle on Statue of Liberty.

"Well, I'll gladly join the Team Captain America Meet Ups," Peter said without missing a beat. "After all," laughed the boy, bitterly. "You knew whose side I'd have preferred if you told me the truth at your marriageable spat."

Steve heard and grinned, "holy shit, Spider-Man would have chosen our side!" He whispered to Sam and Bucky in excitement.

Spider-Man laughed, "you know, I can hear you Steve?"

Steve went bright red, his face flaming, "uh... yes?"

Spider-Man laughed loudly, and grinned. "Good!"

Natasha walked over to Steve, "come on train with me, Rogers." She grinned, eyes dancing in mirth.

Peter watched, as Steve and Natasha faced off against each other. Steve let his shield down, setting it to the side, and got in a battle stance. Peter couldn't lie, Steve was awesome and powerful! (He may have had a slight crush on him when he was younger.)

Natasha looked like a ballerina of death, but the way she held herself was wrong. Unlike Steve, who looked prepared and ready, she looked like had already won. And, that's not a good thing. The moment you get cocky, and believe you'll win, and know everything is the moment you'll loose.

So, imagine Peter's shock when it took Natasha a minute to get Steve pinned to the ground, with her iconic Black Widow move, of wrapping her legs around the victim and dragging them down. Not the best move, sure it blocks their view, but it you stay calm, you could throw her off. Use her weight against her.

Throughout the battle, Steve made the same mistakes even without the shield; he favoured his top.

"You're favouring your upper body," Peter called out suddenly, sitting on the wall, arms crossed.

Steve looked up, panting, "what?"

"You favour your top half." Peter repeated, with a smirk. "How did you take down Captain America?" He asked, rhetorically. He then said in a terrible German accent, "I shot him in zee legs because his shields zee size of a dinner plate! And, he's an idiot!"

Steve flushed, "wait, do I really favour my top half? Why did nobody tell me?!"

Peter laughed, "don't worry dude. You have something to protect yourself, and you rely on it. I did too." He shrugged, smiling.

Steve hummed, "you... you need to teach me, or something, Spider-Man."

Peter flushed, and rubbed the back of his neck, "uh. S-s-sure man, y-yeah!"

Natasha scowled at Peter, eyeing him with distrust, and jerked her head, "come on Spider-Boy. You and me."

Peter tilted his head, and heard her calm and steady heartbeat. "Sure, just don't go easy on me."

"Of course not."

Bucky and Sam would be lying if they said they weren't looking forward to Natasha knocking Spider-Man down on his arse. After the battle in Germany, their prides were slightly sore after the guy stopped Bucky's metal fist, and webbed Sam up. It didn't help that Steve had began fanboying over the man; that was new.

Steve moved to them, and he whispered, "do you think he'll be okay?"

Bucky waved his metal hand around in a "so-so" manner, while Sam shrugged; they hoped he'd come out bruised. After all, Steve doesn't really need help, and pointing things out like Steve favouring his top half? Stuttering while Steve looks up to him? The two did not approve.

Clint walked over, and said very loudly, "fifty Spidey wins!"

"You're on!" Came Bucky's voice.

"Fifty says Nat," Sam grinned.

Tony shrugged, "yeah, fifty on Nat."

"Yeah, sorry Spidey," apologised Wanda, not sounding at all upset.

Vision merely hummed, he didn't take bets, he believed he was above such things - and he was.

Rhodes walked over, "fifty on Nat as well."

Bruce with a defeated sigh, walked over, "no faith in the kid... but, I agree. Fifty on Natasha."

Thor hummed, "well! I for one, believe the Man of Spider's will win!"

Spider-Man made no indication if he heard, he'd have to really, and kept looking at Natasha, who was smirking ever so slightly.

"Remember, don't go easy on me," Spider-Man warned.

"I won't," assured Natasha, and so the fight began.

And then ended in thirty seconds, with Natasha panting, gasping for air, pinned to the ground by Spider-Man.

The room froze.

"Again," Natasha gasped. "I let you..."

"Of course," Spider-Man agreed, pulling Natasha up.

Steve watched in amazement, and watched as Black Widow did her move. By the five second mark, her legs were around his head, and Spider-Man didn't move much to everyone's confusion. By the ten second mark, Natasha threw him down, and Spider-Man went willingly, turning with her. By the fifteen second mark, Natasha had gotten dizzy from the spinning the two did, by the twenty second mark, Spider-Man had thrown her down, and held Natasha down, again.

There was no noise besides Natasha's panting, and then her hand tapping the floor, indicating she lost.

Spider-Man stood, and turned, looking directly at a pale Steve Rogers. He pointed to Natasha, and said, voice stern and authoritatively, echoing the too quiet gym, "that, is level I'm going to get you to Rogers."

Steve's back straightened suddenly.

"Welcome to my training lessons, for the next couple of weeks your life is going to be living hell," Spider-Man warned, there was no joking now.

Sam and Bucky swallowed; Spider-Man's been pulling his punches with them. Holy shit.

Spider-Man looked to Natasha, and said, "and you! Knock it off! You have this air about you, as if you know everything before anyone else, as if you've already won the battle and above everyone else. You're cocky. That is one of the major reasons you lost right now."

"And, not because of anything else," she muttered too quiet for anyone to hear and full of doubt, (Steve barely picked up on it).

"Natasha, I could fight you blindfolded and win." Spider-Man warned, tone not kidding, nor cocky, just stating a fact. "It's skill." He looked to Steve, "so?"

Steve nodded, "okay."

The two were standing in a boxing ring in the middle of a gym called "Fogwell's Gym". Steve had freaked out because they went to Hell's Kitchen, and it was terrifying, because Spider-Man had specifically said "stay away".

("Why are we in Hell's Kitchen? You told me to stay away," whispered Steve, eyeing the tall buildings.

Spider-Man looked over, "Double D owes me Steve. So, it's fine."

"And? Why... have do you have a key?"

"Double D gave it me," Spider-Man shrugged.

Steve swallowed, "and, he has it because...?"

Spider-Man said nothing.)

"So, what now?" Asked Steve, standing in the middle of the ring, unsure of what to do with his arms. He was so going to die. 

"Now," Spider-Man said, "we're going to see what you’re capable of."

"I don’t think the results are gonna be all that spectacular," Steve reasoned, nervously.

Spider-Man sighed. "Just so you know, I rolled my eyes. You have super-strength, right? You ever tested the limits of it?"

"Kind of? Maybe? I stopped a helicopter," Steve said, thinking of the time he grabbed a helicopter, pulling with sore muscles, desperate to keep Bucky with him.

Spider-Man squinted, eyes moving slightly. "How heavy was it?"

"Really heavy," said Steve, shrugging. 

"Huh. Strained? Hurt?"

"Oh yeah. Big time. I now no longer like heights..." Steve said, feeling a bit grim at the thought of it. He has to deal with it, but he doesn't want to.

Spider-Man wrinkled his nose in sympathy and, most likely in an attempt to empathise with Steve, he said, "I can’t deal with warehouses and enclosed places. Massive trust heroes."

"What happened?”

"Vulture and Mysterio," is all Spider-Man deemed necessary to explain.

"Oh," replied Steve, because really, what could he say to that? He knew the Mysterio thing was difficult for Stark to shift, but he did because he's "Tony Stark".

Spider-Man clapped his hands together. "You know your limits then. That’s good."

Steve pursed his lips. "I don’t, though, not really. Like, I know I can lift about a ton, and sure, those punching bags were easy yesterday, but I don’t know how hard I can hit before I break someone's nose. People are different."

"So you need control," Spider-Man said. "Fine-tuning."

Steve nodded. Control would be great, amazing, wonderful. It seemed impossible. 

"Okay," said Spider-Man. "Hit me."

"What?"

Spider-Man planted his feet deliberately. "Hit me," he repeated. 

"But... I just said I could break your nose!" Steve gaped, absolutely panicked.

"Well," Spider-Man tilted his head, and Steve knew by the way he shrugged, that the next thing he said was going to be profoundly unhelpful, "don’t do that."

Steve gritted his teeth, and glared.

"Steve," Spider-Man sighed. "You’re never gonna learn control if you don’t try. Calibration takes work. Sometimes you turn the dial too high and sometimes it’s too low, but eventually, you’ll get it right."

"That all sounds great, but I don’t think you’re gonna be real happy with me if I accidentally bash your head in."

"Then don’t aim for the head. Just hit me."

Steve, after a moment of hesitation, reached over very carefully and prodded at Spider-Man's bicep with his fist. Hitting a person is so much different than a punching bag, it's easy, there's not pain.

"Okay," said Spider-Man, very patiently. "See, that was an example of turning the dial too low. Do it again."

Steve winded up this time and hit him again, and it felt like a semi-normal punch, maybe a bit harder than what he wanted, but clearly he had put far too much force in it, because Spider-Man stumbled back several feet and nearly fell on his ass. 

"Yeah," he wheezed. "Perfect. Too high. Definitely too high."

"Holy shit! Are you okay?"

Spider-Man gave him a shaky thumbs-up. "Again," he said. 

"I don’t like this," said Steve. "Can’t I practice with a punching bag again?"

"No," Spider-Man said. "It's fine. Again."

"What d’you mean, it's fine — oh god, is this a masochism thing? Did you make me punch you so you could feel something?"

Spider-Man laughed, "you've got the quips down. And no. It's just, you need to get better at punching people. That's me. So... let's go."

Steve could finally land a decent hit on Spider-Man without breaking a rib, (which put the man out of commission for a day), without breaking a nose, ("damn it, my nose is gonna be permanently disfigured."), and without so much as bruising him.

"Now," Spider-Man said, when Steve accomplished this great feat, "I'll be fighting back."

"Okay..." Steve said, shifting.

Spider-Man tensed his body, as he coiled into a stance that was familiar to Steve. Spider-Man had allegedly been trained by Daredevil, he hung around some of the most dangerous vigilantes, and it showed in the way he held himself, the way he moved. Graceful. Dangerous.

Steve, unfortunately, had still not learned how to be intimidating, nor how to hold himself in certain situations. He had more of a "stern, military man, who will throw down with you". He was bulky and tense. Too much. Dangerous. But, clunky.

Steve jumped as Spider-Man tried to sweep his legs out under him, only to double over when Spider-Man delivered a swift punch to his stomach immediately after. "Ow, what was that for?"

"What, you think that bad guys are gonna let you off if you dodge?" Spider-Man said, grinning.

"But, you're always saying I favour my top half," Steve said. "So, I focused on my bottom half."

"Doesn't mean you forget about the upper," Spider-Man grinned. "Let's trying again."

Steve took a deep breath, and eyed Spider-Man, who was poised in front of him, fists up, and in a stance. Steve focused his eyesight and hearing on the man, muscles tense, heart fast like his - a fly in the corner, the flickering lights, his eyes seeing everything and nothing at once, with the faint smell of lemon and must, Steve could just hear a car outside speeding passed — 

Spider-Man aimed for the legs again, and this time Steve went down hard. "Where's your head?" Spider-Man demanded.

"Just outside the gym," groaned Steve, holding his hand out, and Spider-Man pulled him up with ease.

Spider-Man hummed in understanding and said, "ground yourself. Feel the mat under your feet. What does the air here smell like?"

"Sweat, and must," Steve said, nose wrinkling. 

"And under that?" Spider-Man prompted, gently. 

After a moment, Steve said, "leather. And something sweet, like lemon..."

"Air freshener. The shitty kind, Febreze," Spider-Man nodded, arms crossed. "Stay in this room. Don’t let your ears wander out of these walls."

"Easier said than done," Steve muttered, but he took a deep breath and tuned everything back in. The light overhead was humming, the fly bumped into the wall, someone down the street was playing trumpet and — no. Steve shook himself a little. Focus. 

Spider-Man's breathing was steady in front of him. His heart was beating rhythmically and fast — again, and again, and again, and there. Spider-Man's heartbeat hitched, just a little, before he swung, and Steve ducked, immediately jumping backwards to avoid the second hit. 

"Yes!" He cheered, and then he said, "ow," because Spider-Man had swept his feet out under him again. "Why," he demanded from the floor. 

"Next lesson," Spider-Man said, completely unsympathetic and highly amused. "Don’t let your guard down."

"Focus Steve," Spider-Man said, sat atop of a tall building with the man. The man in question was in his full gear, (besides his shield), and simply sat.

"Sorry," winced Steve, behind his cowl, and watched Spider-Man.

"Imagine it like a piece of string, expanding, and pinpointing to one thing. Then, you clear everyone and everything else out, as you focus solely on that one thing." He tilted his head left and moved his head slightly, "right. There's a Thai place literally next to us. Packed. I want you to get to table ten, it's at the left, what gender is sat there, health conditions, vitals, heartbeat, food and drink, all that."

Steve listened, and strained, but he couldn't hear passed the chatter of the teenagers between the two buildings - they were fine, just a group hanging out. Come on, Steve, focus... He tilted his head to right, not wanting to tilt left like Spider-Man, (he felt like he was copying him), and leaned forward, stretching his hearing. That was the important thing right now. Cars driving down the street, needs a new tire. With a defeated sigh, Steve rubbed his eyes and hit his ears. He tried tilting his head to the left, like Spider-Man, and strained, ignoring everyone in the apartments under him.

"Oh! I'm in the restaurant!" Steve gasped, smiling, and found himself sifting through people, then he got to the left of the place. He realised why Spider-Man moved his head around; he was chasing the sound. So he did, almost like he was weaving. "Female. Smoker. Hearts a bit faulty, so I'd say late sixties, early fifties? Stomach is growling, so the food hasn't been there for long, but she's eating. I can hear her chewing..."

"Right, what's she eating and drinking?" Asked Spider-Man, who was not brimming with pride, thank you very much.

Steve winced, "no idea... give me a second." He sniffed, and winced, smelling the sewers, and one of the teens aftershave. He moved passed it all, smelling a pizza ten floors under, water and rain puddles on the street — there it is! "Smells like... Spicy Shrimp Soup."

"Oh, Tom Yum Goong," Spider-Man said, with a sigh. "I'm starving now..."

"Lemongrass, chilli, galangal, kaffier lime leaves, shallots, fresh lime juice and plenty of fish sauce. Fresh prawns and mushrooms..." Steve sniffed again, "no coconut. The drink is gin and tonic," he grimaced. "Strawberry gin. She also has a glass of water."

Spider-Man nodded, "right." He looked over, "well done."

"Thanks!"

Tony eyed Steve, who seemed to hold himself differently as he took on Thor. And, he won. He pinned the guy down with some difficulty, but he did it anyway.

"So... what've you been up to?" Asked Tony, seeing Steve walk over to him.

Steve hummed, looking up, "oh... nothing much. Just... going out more?"

Tony squinted, "right..."

"Make sure to check on Andria Hill, there have been some guys causing trouble the past few days, and they may be back." Spider-Man said, as they sat on the rooftop one night eating a pizza. "And there’s a group out in Forter Front who keeps stealing cars, they seem to be dragging them back to a shop somewhere but I haven’t been able to find it yet."

Steve listened, chewing, but felt a sense of panic fill his heart, which promptly dropped to his stomach, as the man continued.

"Also, a few gangs in Downtown have been acting up, but if you go after any of them, make sure they don’t find out where you live, because they’ll burn your house down. And – " Spider-Man paused.

Steve could admit, he looked at Spider-Man a tad bewildered, and a bit overwhelmed.

"You’ve really never been a vigilante before, have you?"

"Does everything that went down from Lagos to Siberia count?"

"No."

"Then no."

"Okay," Spider-Man chuckled. "You’re more prepared than any of us were when we started out, so you shouldn’t have much trouble getting the hang of things. You’ll probably have your fair share of mishaps though, so be careful. Don’t piss off the police, or they’ll put warrants out for your arrest and shoot at you. When Daredevil started out, he got thrown into a lot of dumpsters - and I mean a lot - so if you want tips on how to avoid that, let me know, I'll swing him your way; he's more helpful than you think. But for the love of all that is good and sweet, don’t drag trouble after you into Hell’s Kitchen unless you want to get the crud beaten out of you. We keep burner phones in case we need backup; you might want to consider investing in one."

"You’ve all really thought this out, haven’t you?" Steve said, impressed, thinking of how he saved Spider-Man's number on his personal phone. He needs a burner.

"Trial and error, mostly," admitted Spider-Man.

Steve doesn't do it, but he should. Go out during the day as "Captain America" and patrol, that is. Spider-Man does, as apparently "crime doesn't stop Steve. But, I understand why some vigilantes only go out at night." So, for today, Steve does. He called Spider-Man, asked if he wanted to join him, and that's how Spider-Man and Steve patrolled that day.

Spider-Man let Steve take initiative on most things, standing back, and offering help when Steve asked for it. Steve had decided to do what Spider-Man does, he ended up saving three cats from trees, took a selfie with a boy, played hopscotch with a few kids, stopped a speeding car by taking out the tires, using his shield and brute strength, and managed to stop a purse thief. But, then something happened.

Spider-Man was swinging through buildings, when he turned, and Steve followed.

"What is it?" Steve whisper yelled.

"We're late, but there's a gun, and the victim is alive, and the gunner is rearing for another shot." Spider-Man said, and without a second thought, the two landed in the alleyway.

"Hey!" Steve snapped, and the gunner turned. A buff man, but easy to take, nothing special. Looks a bit frazzled, and when he see's the victim, he knows why.

"Dude, you shot Hawkeye!" Spider-Man gaped, eyes wide, seeing Kate Bishop - she has more than earned the title.

"With a..." Trialled Steve, eyeing the gun a bit tenser. This is different now. It's in the day, and why would someone do this in the day? Is he panicking? Oh, he's panicking. Most times he's close enough, but ironically, he's not really had to deal with guns when their safety has been off. He should know guns too, but he doesn't, despite being in the army.

But, Spider-Man does. "Type 94 Nambu 8 mm pistol," he said, "random." He then whispered to Steve, not looking from the guy. "But, dangerous. That thing can go off with one move, or accidental hit; The Punisher bitched about it throughout our gun lesson."

Mr. Bad Gun Guy glowered, and looked between the new Hawkeye - who was holding her shoulder in pain - and Steve and Spider-Man, who was waiting for an opening. "Get outta here, Captain America and Spiderman!"

"First; there's a hyphen between Spider and Man, very short pause. Quick. Second; we will, after you set the gun down," Spider-Man said, carefully. "After all, seems useless to kill Miss. Hawkeye, there is another one..."

"Dis ones caused me trouble!" Snapped Mr. Bad Gun Guy, aiming his gun to Steve and Spider-Man.

"You gonna shoot us?" Asked Steve, eyeing Miss. Hawkeye, who was unable to reach her bow and arrow without deepening the bullet. He was very tense now, that thing could go off Spider-Man said, this was a cause for panic, but he seemed completely calm.

"Nah, y'ain't worth it! She is though!" Snapped Mr. Bad Gun Guy, not once taking his gun from Spider-Man.

"Gun Lesson 101; never point a loaded weapon at someone you’re not prepared to severely wound if not kill." Spider-Man said, wisely, before shooting a web to the wall. The man turned, distracted, and Spider-Man shot a web again, dragging the mans hand down, the jerk made the gun go off.

He shot another web, and it attached to the gun, and he yanked it away, throwing it off to the side of him.

Mr. Bad Gun Guy paused in shock, and turned to run, but Spider-Man shot a web, and dragged him back, making him fall backwards, winded.

Spider-Man webbed the man up to the fire escape, and webbed his mouth shut, before webbing the gun there too. He turned to Kate, and knelt, "let me look, Miss. Hawkeye."

Kate let him, and watched as he pulled her clothing down, over her shoulder, "thank you, Spider-Man."

Steve was white, he had frozen up, Spider-Man had dealt with it before Steve had even thought of a plan.

"Eh, don't mention it," assured Spider-Man, seeing the bullet. "Bullet's lodged in, bleeding hard." He webbed it. "My webs'll act like a compression bandage, but to get the bullet out, you need this." He handed a vial over, "Wed Dissolver."

Kate took it, "thanks."

"Mr. Hawkeye with you?" Spider-Man asked, worried.

"Yeah, we just got a bit split." Kate said, standing.

Spider-Man "ah'ed", and grabbed the arrows and bow, handing it over to Kate, "here you go — "

"Kate?!" Called a familiar voice; Clint Barton.

Steve tensed, and watched, seeing Spider-Man step back next to him. Steve looked so sad, and apologetic, he knew that, he could feel his heart in his stomach, even Spider-Man's hand on his back did nothing for him.

"Are you okay?! What happened, I — "

"I'm alright Clint," scoffed Kate, rolling her eyes. "Spidey and Cap saved me."

Clint looked over, "Steve? Spider-Man?"

"Hi Mr. Hawkeye," smiled Spider-Man, waving.

Steve also waved, "hey Clint." He was blank,nervous.

"Thank you," Clint said, tense. "Seriously, it means a lot."

Spider-Man shrugged, "no problem, Mr. Hawkeye. We're happy to help."

As the two sat on top of the roof, Steve was shuffling uncomfortably, opening and closing his mouth. Spider-Man sighed, "spill Steve. What's wrong?"

Steve didn't question how Spider-Man knew he wanted to say something, he just said. "I'm sorry... I panicked and froze. I've dealt with guns, but they've always shot at me. Y'know? He was unhinged and I... I'm sorry..." He looked down, shoulders sagging.

Spider-Man looked at him and nodded, shaking his head back and forth. "It's fine... I used to freeze... PTSD and all that..."

Steve looked to him, confused. PTSD?

"I saw this mugger... mugged a group of tourists... I did nothing, because I was trying to be normal. I could have stopped him... the same guy I let get away shot and killed my Uncle, who died in my arms," Spider-Man said, rubbing his back.

"I'm sorry Spidey — "

"Don't be... I've lost so many people, but I've been getting better... and I got help through..." Spider-Man trailed off, as if having an idea. "What if you had gun lessons! Understanding the gun really helps to better yourself!"

Steve looked over, "you're gonna teach me guns?" Spider-Man seemed knowledgeable in the weapon, and would no doubt be a good teacher for it.

"No, I know The Punisher. He could teach you!" Spider-Man said, shrugging.

Steve swallowed, did he really want to meet "The Punisher"? Turns out he did, because he was nodding.

"Hey Frank," greeted Peter on the phone. MJ was asleep on his sofa, the two having a movie evening.

With a defeated sigh, The Punisher said, "what kid? What have you done now?"

"Why you gotta assume I’ve done anything?" Peter asked, rather offended. He does not get into much trouble, thank you very much Matt!

"Well have you?" Frank asked, unimpressed.

"No. Look I need you to come pick me up tomorrow at five. Twenty ninth and sixth. I need an impromptu gun lesson," Peter said, tapping his foot.

"You? You’re good with guns." Frank said confused, "wait, is it Ben?"

"No, uh... I’m kinda helping Steve Rogers become a vigilante and he froze up." Peter said, nervously. He hadn’t actually told anyone about him and Steve, and Clint hopefully thinks it was just a team up.

"You’re teaching Captain America to be a vigilante?" Frank asked, voice laced in a bored, surprised drawl.

"Yeah? Look, just do this for me. Please?" Asked Peter, "I’ll be there the whole time, so bring Max."

"Done," Frank said, voice going softer. "Are you okay? Taking on an apprentice is a lot of work."

"H-he’s not an apprentice! I’m just teaching him a few tricks!" Peter defended, voice high pitched.

Frank laughed, "yeah right. He’s your apprentice. You’re just like Red."

"I am not," mumbled Peter, hanging up. Was Steve his apprentice?

Steve rocked on the balls of his feet, stood side by side with Spider-Man. "I have a burner phone now..."

"Could I take a look?" Asked Spider-Man, looking over.

Steve hesitated but handed it over - it wasn’t the most fancy looking thing. A round blackberry, scratched and chipped, cracked in a few areas, with one contact "Spidey".

"I’m gonna take this to mine for a bit," Spider-Man said, looking over. "I’m good with computers, I can make it untraceable."

Steve looked over, "really?" When Spider-Man nodded, Steve calmly asked, "do you have an AI like Tony?"

Spider-Man nodded, "yeah. DIANA. She’s my own creation... I got inspiration from the one Stark made me; I called her KAREN. Do you want one?"

Steve shrugged, "maybe?"

"If the protocols for me are still in place at the Compound, I can set up a room for you. It’ll help with networking," Spider-Man, voice calm and patient.

That would be helpful actually, it would help with networking and even communicating. "Could I think about it?" Would it be like working with Siri?

"Sure, I’m making it anyway, it'll give me something to do, but you don’t have to have it. Female or male voice, by the way?" Spider-Man asked, looking over.

"Oh, uh... I don’t mind." Steve shrugged, really not bothered.

"Cool."

A black van pulled up in front of the two, and Steve tensed up. He glanced to Spider-Man, who was perfectly calm and relaxed. Probably because it was The Punisher - someone Spider-Man knew, somehow? Gun lessons, was it? And, a dog. A very cute dog. A brown and white, short furred pit bull, that slobbered and drooled with each pant.

"This is Max," The Punisher said, gesturing to the dog. "I'm Frank Castle." He was looking to Spider-Man blankly, "hey Spidey."

"Frank," the man said back, all cheeky like. (He could see Frank vibrating at the sight of Captain America.)

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Castle. I'm Steve Rogers," greeted Steve.

Mr. Castle winced, "call me Frank." He squeaked, and coughed. "Mr. Castle reminds me of my army days."

"Oh, sorry Frank," winced Steve, before hesitating. "You was in the army?"

"I was in intense infantry training from the United States Marine Corps and special operations training by Force Recon. As a Recon Marine I went through Airborne School, Ranger School, BUDs, the Q-Course, and SERE; as well as cross-training with the Australian SASR during the Vietnam War." Frank said, sniffing, eyeing Steve.

Steve smiled sadly, "thank you for your service."

Frank smiled, it was barely there, as he saluted, and Steve saluted back.

"Now, hop in," Frank said, easing up, "we're going somewhere."

Honestly, getting Steve to join Frank on a drive out of the city had been easier than anyone had probably thought. Steve watched as Spider-Man happily began to petting the dog, and let Frank drive away.

It was an hour drive, with Spider-Man giving Max all the attention and love he deserves, with Steve asking a few questions to Frank, such as; how was his night? (Good.) What did you have for breakfast? (Toast.) What's your favourite colour? (Green.)

When they parked up, and got out, Steve finally asked, "so, what are we doing here?"

Frank stood, arms crossed, and patient, "I’m going to teach you gun safety and how to shoot."

Steve visible got nervous, and shifted. "Oh, um, that’s — "

"Look, Steve" Spider-Man interrupted, "if you don’t want to do this, we’ll turn around and go back to city and get a coffee. You got a little freaked out around a gun, and the best way to stop being scared or unsure of something is to know everything about it. Knowing what kinds of guns work different ways could help you know what to look for, which ones to get rid of first, and how to use one in a pinch. That’s how I dealt with my trauma. I’m not gonna force you to do things you don’t wanna do, so just say the word."

The dragging silence made Spider-Man visibly nervous. Of course, he didn't know that, but Steve saw a shift in his stance.

"Knowing this stuff doesn’t mean you’re gonna pick up a gun and kill someone," promised Spider-Man.

"I know Red 'n' Spidey's all high and mighty with that shit, but this is a defensive thing." Frank said, voice tense, watching.

"When you say "Red"?" Trailed Steve, confused.

"Daredevil," said Frank. "But, everyone in Team Red calls it each other for fun. They’re chaotic." He said, shooting Spider-Man a look.

Spider-Man looked unimpressed, "stop calling us that."

Steve shook his head. "Killing is bad in my eyes, but I’m not as um... high strung about it..." He said, shuffling, thinking about World War II, about all the lives he took, about all the lives lost in Sokovia and Lagos.

"The Avengers kill people, and everyone still thinks we're the good guys because we've got good PR. I know that that’s not everything you're about." Steve fidgeted for a second, pulling at the skin around his nails, before finally saying, "sometimes I freeze up, but I’d like to learn. Maybe it’ll keep me from freezing up. After all, guns are different now."

"That’s the point," nodded Frank.

"Franks the second best shooter in the multiverse," Spider-Man said, pointing to Frank.

"Second best?" Asked Frank, scoffing and offended.

"Yep. The best is Spider-Noir," shrugged Spider-Man.

Steve frowned, "uh who?"

"Remember those two other Spider-Men on the Statue of Liberty, fighting those other bad guys? They were from alternate dimensions. And, I was dragged into another dimension in which I met six other Spider-People and Pig. We have Monthly Multiverse Meetings," shrugged Spider-Man.

Steve’s eyes widened. He wanted that. To deal with such high stakes such as Spider-Person/Pig, (whatever that meant) villains, to deal with real world ending issues. Sure, there was Thanos, but that was... different. This is now. And this felt more dangerous than an alien, it was grounded in earth, done by real people for no reason other than for fun, or a selfish gain. Now that was terrifying.

"That is so cool," gaped Steve, completely fanboying at the aspect.

Spider-Man and Frank stared at him, as he went bright red.

"This is a gun safety class, I had to teach Spider-Man to not ninja slapping guns from peoples hands." Frank said, getting a scoff from Spider-Man and a laugh from Steve. Frank walked to the back of his truck, letting Max follow him. He flipped down the back of his truck, so they could use the bed as a table for the weapons Frank brought. "I’m going to teach you how to strip and put various guns back together, the best way to handle someone using each gun, basic gun safety, and then have you shoot them. Sound good?"

Steve nodded, watching Frank carefully.

Steve watched, memorising how each of the four guns were loaded and put together, taking the directions well, soaking it up like a sponge. Spider-Man had a mouth on him, and wasn’t afraid to sass Frank, much to Steve’s shock and amusement, but Steve genuinely listened. And, Steve took in the information and applied it with ease.

Moving onto ways to disarm someone with a firearm, Frank picked up the assault rifle, keeping it pointed away from Steve. "Your best bet with all firearms is to get out of the way and into some kind of cover. That won’t be your thing, I’m sure, since that leaves an armed and dangerous person out there. With your shield, you should try to cause a distraction and then use them to take the person down. Obviously, each weapon shoots differently and are dangerous for different reasons, so pay attention."

Frank went through the four guns he’d brought, talking about the various ways they shot and what was the most dangerous part of each weapon. He explained things like, if someone had a sniper and was shooting at him, getting into cover and trying to identify where the shots are coming from is important along with moving in a way that makes it difficult to get a clean shot.

When Frank moved to demonstrate how the weapons fired, Spider-Man flinched slightly at the pistol. Steve didn’t ask, but he assumed, and Frank didn't bat an eye. At least this way Steve had a better chance of knowing how to keep people safe.

The gun safety portion of their little lesson went similarly to the assembly and disassembly part. Steve was able to keep up with all of it, and with a weapon in hand, kept his finger off the trigger and pointed away from both himself, and was picking up information about new and improved guns with rapid fire.

Frank told Steve how to hold the pistol, and what stance to take up when firing. He explained the different ways to brace himself for the recoil before saying, "and finally, never point a loaded weapon at someone you’re not prepared to severely wound if not kill."

Steve lowered the pistol and frown at the ground. "I don’t think I need to know how to shoot these... I don’t want to kill anyone, I just hate bullies."

"Like we said, we're not gonna force you to learn, but you never know what might happen, Steve." Spider-Man said, from kneeling on the ground. He had watched the entire thing, checking on Steve and playing with Max. "It’s just important to know. This stuff's dangerous, and if you’re gonna use it, you gotta be prepared for the possible outcomes. If you wanna quit and go back to the city, we can."

Steve kept staring at the ground. Does he really want to continue? To learn how he could kill a man?

"No, I want to know. I need to be prepared."

Frank went through the four different guns he brought, showing Steve how to use each one and giving him a chance to shoot each one. Steve had a very steady hand.

It wasn’t long after that, that Spider-Man, Frank and Steve found themselves packing things up, while Spider-Man petted Max in between their clean up.

The ride back was quieter than the ride there, but the tension left Steve's body as Spider-Man hummed along to a couple songs. Besides the humming, there wasn’t much conversation until Frank went to drop the two off.

Frank coughed nervously, and looked over. "Rogers?"

Steve looked up, "yes?"

"C-could I... could I have an autograph?" Frank asked, hopefully.

Spider-Man laughed, as Steve grinned. He nodded, "sure!" This is so cool, The Punisher wants my autograph!

Steve happily gave his autograph, eyes sparkling, and Spider-Man climbed out the car with a final goodbye to Max.

"Hey," called Frank, making Steve pause. He handed over a phone, "it has my number on it. If you have my number, fair warning; you'll end up on a watch list."

"Okay," smiled Steve. Worth it.

"Well? How's it going?" Asked Sam, holding Steve in his arms, squeezing slightly. "Spiderman teaching you things?"

Steve, without missing a beat, said, "there's a hyphen between Spider and Man, very short pause. And, good." He brightened, and turned to Bucky, who was next to him, "I met The Punisher. Taught me to shoot a gun, disarm and strip one."

Bucky's eyes widened, "isn't he like... a terrorist?"

"You afraid of him?" Grinned Steve, remembering how excited the guy was meeting him.

Bucky scoffed, "I’m not afraid of a man who can’t protect his own children."

Sam sat up, "Bucky!"

Steve bit his tongue. After all, Frank's not a friend... right? He remembered the number in the burner phone, and his eyes widened, "oh..."

"What?" Asked Sam, concerned.

"Frank's a friend," Steve realised with a hum. "Oh my god! I'm friends with The Punisher!"

"What are you doing hanging out with the fucking Punisher?!" Snapped Tony, as he stormed into the dinning area, where the team was eating breakfast. He was looking on at his phone, which held a picture of Steve and Spider-Man getting into a car with The Punisher.

Steve frowned, "learning how to shoot, and dismantle and strip down guns?"

"And, what's my kid doing there?!" Tony snapped, sounding panicked.

Steve's frown deepened, "you mean Spider-Man? He's friends with Frank, and I'm friends with Frank. What's the issue?"

"The Punisher is a terrorist!" Yelled Tony, "a terrorist who couldn't protect his own kids — "

"And, you couldn't protect your own parents," snapped Steve, making the table fall silent. Tony had gone white, but Steve didn't care. "Frank's my friend. Don't go calling one of my friends."

"T-this is bad PR — " Whispered Tony.

"I don't care," Steve said, calmly.

"How did you take Natasha down?" Asked Steve one day, he and Spider-Man in "Fogwell's Gym".

Spider-Man titled his head and said, "when she wrapped her legs around me, she spun me, so I spun with her. I dragged her down, and pinned her, arm to her neck, spread her legs, feet inside her thighs to hold them open, pin them down, and her arms down with your spare arm."

Steve frowned, "could you... teach me?"

Spider-Man seemed to smile, "Steve, my goal is for you to take down Natasha."

Steve had high hopes, which was quickly crushed when Spider-Man kept dragging him down. Seriously? How?

"Here you go," smiled Spider-Man, handing over a phone. The burner phone Steve had handed over. "That has mine, and Franks number in it. How's it going with Natasha?"

"Eh," Steve shrugged, looking it over. This had a password in now, and he looked over confused, "uh, password?"

"Yep!" Spider-Man said, "I've not added one yet. Thought it best to let you."

"And, I can do... anything?" Steve asked, eyeing it and thinking.

"Yep, just don't make it generic," Spider-Man said, watching him.

Steve thought, and began typing; RileyBecca

"So, what today?" Asked Steve, looking to Spider-Man, as he pocketed the phone.

Spider-Man looked over, "I have finished your A.I. if you want her. If not, that's cool too. But, for today, I want you to meet another friend. Does meditating, and calming exercises, works with chi." He moved over to the edge, and jerked his head, "come on." He flipped off, and rolled.

Steve stared, and backed up, running after him and mimicking the movement, floundering slightly at the end. Only for Spider-Man to turn back to him, and tell him exactly what went wrong, and how to fix it. He got it on the second time.

"You're going to meet Iron Fist. You ready?"

Steve nodded with a smile, "ready!".

"Let's go," Spider-Man said, and pushed the door to the dojo (if Steve had to guess) open and stepped inside. Steve followed, and was pleasantly surprised to find the inside of the building nicer than the outside, but still quaint.

"Sorry, we’re clos - Oh, hey guys! Can you lock the door behind you? It’d be hard to explain Spider-Man and Captain America being here," a sandy haired man asked, large smile on his face.

Steve was quick to lock the door behind them, then looked the other up and down. Danny Rand, right... from what Steve remembered of the press talks from the return of "Danny Rand", the man was in his mid-twenties, but sometimes acted a lot younger. The man could respect that actually. He got the feeling Danny also had people underestimate his abilities based on how he looked.

"Steve, meet Danny Rand, the Immortal Iron Fist. Danny, meet Steve Rogers."

Steve quickly extended a hand. "It’s really nice to meet you, Mr. Danny Rand, sir." He said, rattling off the titles.

Danny laughed and took it in stride. "Call me Danny! You could call me Sensei or Master while I’m teaching you, but otherwise Danny."

Steve thought, and shook Danny’s hand and said, "you can call me Steve, then."

"I'm a huge fan," Danny smiled, positively beamed.

Spider-Man crossed his arms and leaned back, "start with meditation, and channelling chi. It can help with panic attacks and to unwind after stress."

It was funny watching Danny puff himself up. "I’m the one teaching. I’ll decide where we start." Then, a little sheepishly, Danny said, "we’ll start with meditation."

Steve covered his snickering with a cough, "good idea, Sensei." He hesitated, "could I ask you some questions? About your abilities? Like with the Iron Fist, I think Spidey mentioned something about chi, but how does chi work? People’ve said that it gives off a glow when they’ve seen it, so I wonder if it gives off a heat. Oh, and is it really just the fist or like your whole body cause that’d be interesting if it was the whole body and really bright cause people would have a hard time looking at you while fight you."

Danny puffed up, prepared to launch into an angry explanation that the power he held wasn’t some science experiment or some cool toy. (After all, it was an ancient and revered power.)

Steve continued without pause, "can I see it? Or maybe - can you punch me with it? It’s gotta be incredibly powerful, and I’ve never fought someone with a similar strength to me. I heal fast, so I wouldn’t really get hurt, and it’d be a good reference. I’m also pretty sure the Iron Fist would be cool to see and get hit by!"

"Breathe before you pass out," Spider-Man said, slightly worried. He then muttered, "is this how Double D feels with me?"

Danny’s anger simmered down in the face of Steve's genuine enthusiasm, but he still said, "this power isn’t some kind of toy." Steve opened his mouth to apologise, but Danny waved him off and smiled. "But I want to see if I can break your shield with it!"

Before Steve could fist pump in excitement, Spider-Man said, "you’re not punching him with your glowing fist - Steve, Luke Cage couldn’t withstand the punch, let alone the damage it would do to this room. We both know Colleen would have your head, Danny. So no, no breaking Steve's ribs." (Someone had to be the voice of reason, and Spider-Man muttered about how he didn't like it.)

Both of them turned to pout at Spider-Man, but Spider-Man tapped his foot.

"Fine!" Whined Steve, honest to god, whined.

"Meditating!"

Meditating was harder than Steve thought, channelling chi was easier. If Steve had to guess, it was almost like channelling sorcery, feeling it seep through his veins, and circle his body, hugging his heart, flooding his mind and tingling the tips of his fingers. It seemed to almost go hand in hand.

"You did well today," assured Danny, waving a hand to dismiss Steve's disgruntled face.

"But, I didn't meditate," grumbled Steve. He's had issues with sitting still and staying silent after being on ice for years.

"It's hard," assured Danny. "Don't give up on meditating, try in different positions," smiled the man.

Steve smiled back, "of course, Sensei."

Danny wrote down a number and handed it over, "call me."

Steve grinned, "thanks!" He turned to see Spider-Man, upside down, on the ceiling, meditating, and frowned, "show off."

Captain:  Could I have that A.I.?

Spidey:  Coming!

Peter swung into the Avengers Compound with ease, and jumped through the window. He waved, "hey Clint. Where's Steve?"

Clint jabbed a thumb behind him, "with Bucky and Sam."

Peter winced, "uh FRIDAY? Is Steve free? Let him know I'm here."

"Of course, Spider-Man... Mr. Rogers is on route with Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson," FRIDAY said.

"Alright, thanks FRIDAY," thanked Peter. Should he have come in his Stark Spider-Man suit? Probably. But, he did not want KAREN to alert Tony, and he prefers DIANA. He flipped a small circuit board around in his hand, rocking on his feet.

"So," Clint said, leaning back in his seat. "Word around Queens is Spider-Man has an apprentice. In Captain America."

Peter sighed, "he is not my apprentice."

"That's not what the internet are saying," assured Clint.

"DIANA put in a reminder; look into what the internet are saying about me and Steve," Peter said, unimpressed.

"Of course, Spider-Man," comes DIANA's British voice.

Clint snorted and grinned, "people are saying he's your protégé."

Peter sneered, "protégé? No way. I'm Daredevil's protégé, that is a protégé. Steve's someone I'm helping out."

"Showing the way of vigilantism?" Questioned Clint, looking over, "helping him fight and heighten his senses? I've seen the way he's moving in training; he's pulling fluid movements that only you could pull. He can land punches with the right power, and he took down Bucky and Thor with ease."

Peter did not preen in pride, thank you very much! His chest did not puff out slightly, nor did he smile slightly, much like he had seen Matt do with him. No, of course not.

"Spider-Man!" Greeted Steve, beaming.

Peter looked up, and waved, "hey Steve! Mr. Falcon! Mr. White Wolf!"

"Spidey," nodded Sam, serious.

Bucky nodded, and said, "what are you doing introducing Steve to The Punisher."

"Frank?" Peter clarified, "I'm helping Steve learn and improve." He shrugged, "so, Steve! You ready?"

Steve nodded, "ready!"

"Lead me to a spare, unused room please," smiled Peter.

Steve led him down the hallway, going down another, and then another, and another. The hallway they landed in was remote, besides a generic painting on the wall of flowers, with doors down the hall.

"These rooms are all empty. Tony has them for our use." Steve said, shrugging.

Peter nodded, "right..." He eyed the rooms, and walked, picking one at random, and opened the door. He looked in, and noted it was a small room, with nothing inside of it besides a window, curtains, and lights. "FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Spider-Man?" Asked FRIDAY.

"Activate Protocol; Teenage Rebellion." Peter said, and at Steve's confused look, Peter shrugged.

"Activating."

"Steve is in charge of this room, you do not let anyone in without his permission, you do not know about this room, you act like it doesn't exist. And, you will not enter this room."

"Understood."

Peter jerked his head, "right, you need to let me in."

Steve nodded, a bit blank as he walked in, "come in, Spider-Man."

Peter followed. He pulled out a chip, and climbed up the wall, digging his fingers into a panel, pulling it loose. He put the circuit board in place, tightening wires with his fingers, and tweaking a few things. "Alright, say hello to your new boss."

The lights in the room came on, and a dig filled the room.

Peter fell to the floor on soft feet, and pulled out a wire from a hidden pocket, creating a small hole in the corner of the room, and connecting it to the mainframe, "right Steve. Meet your new AI."

Steve looked up, "uh... hello?"

"Hello Steve Rogers," greeted a chipper female voice, sounding very excited and pleased.

Steve smiled, and looked to Peter, "how did you do this? What's her name?"

"I'm letting you name her," said Peter shrugging. "And, I'm good at computers..."

"And, the wire...?"

"It's for interactive holograms, a way to watch footage and network, and whatever else you may need," said the female AI.

Steve's eyes were wide in amazement, and Peter smiled softly. "Spider-Man, this is amazing... how did you name DIANA?"

"It's an acronym for Dudette Is A Normal AI," Peter said, shrugging.

Steve hummed, and nodded, "an acronym..." He was in deep thought, and Peter stood, then jumped in shock as his AI rang. Steve looked over, confused.

"Answer DIANA." Peter said, confused, then smiled hearing the voice.

"Hey man! I've been looking into those disappearances you asked for, and the black van that appears, keeps going into Hell's Kitchen, but I loose them ten minutes into Daredevil's territory. I'm going to keep looking, and let you know. But, you should let Double D know what's happening."

Peter grinned, happy to hear Ned. "Thanks man, I'll let Red know."

"Is this gonna be a Team Red team up?" Asked Ned, excited.

"Possibly, but Deadpool's out on a mission," grimaced Peter, thinking of whoever Wade was killing. "I gotta go, with Steve."

"Captain America?! Tell him I say hi!"

Peter laughed, "will do. See ya."

"Bye!"

Peter smiled, "DIANA hang up."

Steve tilted his head, and frowned, "who was that?"

Peter looked up and smiled, "my Guy In The Chair." At Steve's confused look, Peter said, "he's someone who looks into police reports, or find footage and information, and helps me disable things, gets me information..."

"Does everyone have something like that?" Asked Steve, confused.

Peter shrugged, "kinda..." At Steve's confused look, Peter said, "alright next lesson tomorrow. I'm gonna tell you what you need. Good?"

"Okay, good," Steve nodded.

Steve bit into his pizza, and looked to Tony slightly. He's never really listened into his teammates heartbeats, or vitals, he's always managed to make the sounds fade into the background like a hum until it melded into one, and confused.

He was more interested in Vision though. He titled his head to the left slightly, listening; Bucky's heartbeat was fast paced, Sam's was strong and steady, Tony's was weak and faltering, Vision's wasn't a beat, more of a smooth hum, and Steve paused in his eating.

How interesting. He doesn't have a heartbeat... is it that Infinity Stone in his head? When they managed to get the stones back, they managed to restore the Mind Stone and give it back to Vision. That's whats keeping him alive.

Steve's hearing turned to Wanda, it was strong, and powerful, but it made him slightly uncomfortable; as if it was fighting to get out. He grimaced, and hissed as it gave a particularly loud thud.

Bucky looked over, "are you okay?" He asked, voice concerned, as he took hold of Steve's hand.

"Yeah, sorry... just... loud heartbeat from Wanda..." Steve smiled, painfully.

Tony paused, and looked over, "you can hear heartbeats?"

Steve looked up and nodded, "yeah. Spider-Man taught me."

Sam blinked, "Spider-Man can hear heartbeats...?"

"If he can take down Natasha, he can hear heartbeats," assured Steve.

Clint smiled behind his drink, "fucking knew it..."

"Knew what?" Steve asked, confused.

"Nothing," smiled Clint, knowingly.

Steve and Spider-Man's lesson was put on hold, as the two rushed off to help people. Currently, they was in a burning building, breathing in smoke, and they had to get everyone out.

As Steve rushed through the burning building, hearing and eyesight dialled to maximum, he heared a heartbeat. Solid, firm, yet fast... it's not that of a normal adult, nor a teenager, old person and child. A mutant? No... mutate, not mutant.

He rushed over, and paused, seeing a small child, curled up in the corner coughing. It was a split second, in which the wall, a solid brick, and fiery wall, fell. She screamed, and Peter caught it with a yell.

The girl looked up with amazed eyes, "Captain America!"

"H-hi," strained Steve, trying to sound cheerful. Come on, he's pulled at heavier. "S-Spider-Man?!"

Spider-Man rushed over and paused, "Steve!" He ran over.

"Y-you're gonna be okay," Steve promised. "You need to crawl." He said, feeling the weight increase. He was going to be crushed, or he would run out of air from the thick smoke, both ways would be slow and painful.

"I can't," whimpered the girl.

"Yes, you can," assured Spider-Man, taking hold of the other end, and pushing up with a groan, lifting it up. Spider-Man paused and turned to see, "Luke Cage..."

"Spider-Man," grunted Mr. Cage, rushing over and taking hold of where Steve was, gently nudging him away.

Steve reached out to the girl, and pulled her out, and covered her face, head to his chest. "You're okay, let's get you out?" He nodded to Mr. Cage and Spider-Man, "come one then rushed out.

The little girl cried, and reached out, "Mama!"

Steve handed her over to the sobbing mother, who looked to Steve, "t-thank you."

"Of course, ma'am," nodded Steve, before rushing off. There it was again, that same heartbeat...

Luke Cage and Spider-Man stood on a building together, watching Steve, who jumped and landed in front of him with a similar, fluid and smooth spin move he saw Spider-Man do a while ago.

Luke Cage gave Spider-Man a look, then greeted, "Rogers."

"Mr. Cage," greeted Steve. "You usually stay in Harlem."

"Travelling," shrugged Mr. Cage.

"Right, thanks by the way. For your help back there," smiled Steve, nervously. "I've uh... been meaning to work on my strength."

"How much can you lift?" Asked Mr. Cage, leaning forward on the building.

"About two tons," Steve responded.

"And, you struggled tonight because...?"

Steve looked down, disappointed in himself. "Just... off my game..."

Spider-Man looked to Mr. Cage, the two sharing a silent conversation. Finally, Mr. Cage nodded, and wrote down a note, handing it over to Steve. "Come to this place next week. We'll get your strength up."

"Oh! Thank you Mr. Cage!"

Steve was shifting and wiggling. He was trying so hard to meditate, and it just wasn't happening. Why couldn't he stay focused?

He was trying his best to focus on his own breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, and expanding his awareness. All it was really doing was putting him to sleep.

Danny opened his eyes and frowned at the man, who was restless and not calm, but not tense, "Steve. Maybe, you should try a different position? Hmm?" (He didn't really want him to fall asleep.)

Steve's shoulders slouched, then looked up with an idea. "Sensei? May I try something?"

Danny smiled, chest out, preening. Being called Sensei by another vigilante with such respect was an amazing feeling. "Of course."

Steve slowly stood, and walked over to the concrete floor, and he sat down. Instantly he relaxed, "it was like sitting on a marshmallow. Do you think this might help?"

"Go for it," smiled Danny, giving a thumbs up.

Steve gave a bright grin at the permission, and settled down on the concrete, he assumed the position Danny had directed him on, his legs crossed over each other, and hands on his lap, palms up. Once Danny settled back down, Steve started focusing back on his breathing, eyes closing, back straight.

Sitting on the hard, painful flooring helped far more than sitting on the mats.

He breathed deeply, inky blackness surrounding him, much better. Not perfect, but better.

"So, there're some things you're going to need." Spider-Man said, tone serious. "You're gonna need a "Guy In The Chair", but that could be anyone who knows about your nighttime activities."

"So, either Bucky or Sam?" Asked Steve, as he sat on the edge of the building, looking over the people walking back and forth.

"Yeah," nodded Spider-Man. "You'll also need someone in the NYPD. For example, I'm friends with Detective Terri Lee."

"How did that happen?"

"When I was framed for killing Mysterio, she was the one who arrested me. But, I managed to prove I was innocent. As you know. With irrefutable evidence, she apologised, and we became friends." Spider-Man said, shrugging. "You'll need a support system, outside of me, Danny, and Frank. So, Bucky and Sam."

Steve nodded, "right..."

"And, you'll need a safe house or two in Brooklyn. Frank has one too, but you'll need one too." Spider-Man said, tone serious.

Steve nodded, "okay..."

Steve looked to the ceiling. There was a desk in his AI room - he had yet to name her and was thinking - and a chair, with files, and pens and paper.

"Uh, Miss AI?"

"Yes Steve?"

Steve smiled, "uh... could you look into places for a Safehouse in Brooklyn?"

"Of course Steve!"

"Ah, Steve," greeted Spider-Man, perking up. "Glad you came."

Steve greeted back, "hey Spidey." He was eyeing the company. It was a woman. She had long dark hair, with a slim body, and holy shit, "you're Jessica Jones..."

Jessica Jones raised an eyebrow, "Captain America?"

Steve stuttered, "I-I'm a huge fan..."

Jessica hummed, and looked away to Spider-Man. "You hanging out with the Avengers again?"

"Technically, I'm supposed to be a Junior League Avenger," Spider-Man said, unimpressed.

Steve raised a hand and said, "I'm... I'm more into the vigilante game?"

Spider-Man raised a hand and gestured, "see?" He looked to Jessica, "anyway. Thanks for coming, since it's Saturday, the weekend."

Jessica sighed, and took a swig of her alcohol and Steve grimaced, eyeing her beige bagged covered whiskey. Jessica liked to drink, he knew that, but that was... a lot...

"No problem. I got a new case, not started. Looked at today, and I'm so not looking forward to it. I thought I could help you, like you asked." Jessica shrugged, and sighed, holding up a case file.

Steve hesitated, then raised a hand again, "c-could I...?"

Jessica handed it over, "it's not even difficult. I'm just sick of them..."

It was a classic case at first glance. Wife thinks her husband is cheating on her, he denies it, someone (Jessica in this case) is hired to figure out what he's been doing. So far, her notes say that he disappears for 4 or 6 hours at a time and that it's usually from 9 PM to midnight or 2 AM, depending on the night

Steve finished reading the file for the second time on one Andrew Anderson (what a name), and looked up. "So he has a second job right? Why does the wife think he’s cheating?"

Jessica stared at him, and Spider-Man looked over, confused.

"He has a what?" Jessica asked.

"A second job," he shrugged. "He’s gone for the length of a regular shift, returns exhausted, and his first job has been cutting his hours."

"Huh. Good point, Rogers," she said. She grabbed the file from him, and quickly wrote down some notes. She finished quickly, and tossed it back in her bag.

"It's still my day off though, so that's all the work we’re gonna do today," she said.

Steve nodded, but he looked a little disappointed, shoulders sagging.

Jessica watched him, "tell me, how's your networking?"

"Not too good, I'm rather new at this," reasoned Steve, shrugging.

Jessica hummed, and wrote down a location, "come here tomorrow. We can work on it." He looked to Spider-Man, "so?"

"That's what I needed you for, helping him network," shrugged Spider-Man.

Jessica scowled, "I hate you."

Alias Investigations Office was actually rather neat and nice, besides the front door, it did not scream "Jessica Jones Drinks".

Malcolm Ducasse, a black man with dreadlocks, sat at the desk, and asked, "can I help you... Captain America?" He squeaked, seeing Steve in his costume.

Steve waved, "hi... uh, Miss Jones said to come here?"

Malcolm eyed him, then smiled, and pointed, "down there..."

"Thanks," smiled Steve, walking down. He knocked on the door, and opened it, "hey? It's Steve Rogers?"

Jessica looked up and snorted, "huh? Spider-Man... oh right..." She stood, arms crossed, and waved her hand, "well? What do you know about networking."

"Patterns, high criminal area's — "

"High clustered," Jessica nodded. "There's a location, called Skullers, just outside Mart's Bar. That's a good place to see; find the patterns; what they look like. Make sense?"

Steve nodded, "sure. W-what if... I don't find it?"

"Rogers, you found something yesterday I wouldn't have seen," Jessica said. "I'm so used to men cheating that it had yet to cross my mind. You saw something I didn't."

Steve smiled softly, and flushed, seeing her look to him with a spark in her eyes. "All right..."

Steve sat in front of Jessica the next day, "right, so... clustered with mainly men, buff, in black and leather. But, they had tattoos of skulls on their faces, and they do drugs and child kidnappings. I can't go in yet, because there's more..."

"How many?" Jessica asked, patiently.

"At least three, as they each had different coloured skull tattoos on their fists," Peter said, "I've found one of the other locations, it gets weaker as I look into. I hit the weaker ones, the top dog falls."

Jessica smiled, "so, you know what you're looking for?"

"For stereotypes, but higher up people, suits. They use the little guy, such as gangs, and to get them, I'd need to do some questioning..."

Jessica smiled, "good work, Rogers."

Steve smiled.

There were whispers, these days. Talk of the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man acquiring a protégé. 

Spider-Man, a mentor, a teacher. 

Ha, some thought, very funny. Others frowned slightly, brows lowered in consternation, and thought quietly: this could be a very good thing or a very bad thing. 

Steve didn’t quite know which umbrella he fell under. He could feel himself growing—getting more flexible, more comfortable in his body. More dangerous, too. 

It was... he didn’t know what it was. Scary, probably. But good. It was good.

Steve rode out to a warehouse with Spider-Man on the back of his motorbike, the warehouse had trucks and crates, with chains and boxes. It was Harlem, and he was excited. He was going to be training with Luke Cage!

"Mr. Cage!"

Luke Cage looked over, and nodded softly, "Rogers, Spider-Man. Good to see you."

"You too!" Smiled Steve, as Spider-Man swung over and landed in front of him. Steve got up, and walked over. "So! What are we doing?"

"I want to see how much you can lift up." Mr. Cage said, nodding his head to a few white pick up trucks. "Pick that up, as if you was bench pressing. Then, you will be bench pressing."

Steve nodded, and smiled, "okay!" He slipped under the car, a white pickup truck specifically, and put his hands under it. He lifted it up with ease.

Spider-Man hummed, genuinely shocked, and lifted another car, and put it on top of it. "How much did you say you can lift?"

"About two tons," said Steve, struggling to now hold up the two trucks.

Mr. Cage and Spider-Man shared looks, and Spider-Man gestured to Steve with pride. Spider-Man lifted up a small metal crate, and set it on the truck.

"You're lifting seven tons," said Spider-Man, with pride.

Steve looked over, "I... I am?"

Spider-Man seemed happy, "yeah."

"Bench pressing," Mr. Cage said, "I'll spot you."

They worked in silence for a while.

Steve watched the car get closer, then further away, then close, then away. "So... what did you guys do before becoming heroes?"

Mr. Cage and Spider-Man grimaced, sharing looks, before looking back to Steve.

"I served in Marine Force Recon, and I'm also a former cop," Mr. Cage said, looking over to Steve.

"I work at Rand Enterprises," Spider-Man said without missing a beat.

Steve looked between them, "cool... thank you for your service, Mr. Cage."

Mr. Cage smiled slightly, "an honour."

"You cannot be hanging out with Jones, Cage and Rand!" Snapped Tony, glaring at Steve.

Steve wanted to take Tony's shoulders and to viciously shake him. "Why not?!"

"Because! You're an Avenger! They're vigilantes!" Yelled Tony, "they're bad people, who can get you killed, and work outside of the law!"

"Tony," snarled Steve in bristling anger. "They're good people!"

"Are they?!"

"Yes!" Steve sighed, and shook his head, "I'm not doing this right now..." He walked off.

"Uh-oh," Steve called, walking over. "You're in P.I. mode." He said, seeing Jessica, her face serious.

Jessica looked up, "yeah, just..." She handed over a file, "went missing. Wife's trying to find him."

The information was about a thirty year old man, he's been missing for three days, and the last place he was spotted was in Tookin's Talon's, it seemed like a bar. The man was called Mr. Nathan Mitchell, and Steve hummed. The guy was tall, and brunet with brown eyes.

"Good luck, Miss Jessica," grinned Steve, stealing the picture, before hopping away.

He was at Tookin's Talon's as Steve Rogers, not Captain America. And, with a fake beard, and brown contacts, and weirdly parted hair. Tookin's Talon's was a run down bar, full of people. Steve grimaced, smelling the strong, yet cheep alcohol.

He finally went inside, picture held tightly to his chest, nobody batted an eye to him, nobody cared, as he walked up to where the bartender is standing.

"Hey there, what can I get ya," the bartender asked, as he casually polished a glass that looks like it hadn’t been truly clean in years. Gross.

"I — " Steve bit his tongue, stopping himself from voicing his disgust. It was pitiful, and easy to make tears well up in his eyes. He always got what he wanted back in the Great Depression, baby faced, weak, terminally ill Steve would cry, and they'd give him something to eat. He set the picture he’d been clutching to his chest down on the bar with shaky hands. Voice shaking, hushed and whispered, "I’m looking for my husband. He hasn’t been home in a week, and I'm really worried, and I know he comes here sometimes, and I just want him to come home," he says, looking up at the bartender with the saddest eyes he can manage, and choked out a sob.

The bartender’s expression softened slightly, as he picked up the photograph and looked over it for a minute. "Sorry Mr., haven’t seen him for a couple weeks." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he just passed the picture back, messing with his wedding ring.

Steve tilted his head, much like he'd seen Spider-Man do, and heard a steady beat. He's telling the truth.

"Do... do you know if there’s anywhere else he might go? I-I know he has problems with drinking, and I just want him to come home..." Steve tried again, as he finally gets a couple of tears to drip down his cheeks.

The bartender looked conflicted again, and stares down at the glass and rag softly, and finally looked at Steve. "Frontier. Down on tenth," he said finally. "But, Mr., don’t go askin’ around there by yourself."

"Thank you — " gasped Steve, eyes wide and sparkling. "I won’t," Steve assured, hugging the picture to his chest for a moment, before he slipped it back into his pocket, and walked out of the bar, with fake wary looks.

Fucking Frontier, the scummiest of scums to ever scum goes there. It advertises itself as a gay bar, but in reality it was a homing beacon for all sorts of creeps, gay, straight, whatever. The owner’s a registered sex offender, and they’re pretty notorious for not ID-ing. Which attracted dumb kids, who don’t know better. Which is exactly the point of the place.

It took him about ten minutes to get there, and it was definitely the seediest looking bar on the street, sat between a corner shop, and a tattoo parlour. There was sticky, wet floors and people popping pills, and the loud bass of the music, and ew; the predatory look one guy gives a young teenage boy.

Steve eyed him carefully, making his way to the bar. Currently, he has no name, what name could he use? Frank... Barnes. Good name, yeah that.

Once he got to the counter, Steve flagged down the bartender, and reached into his pocket and grab the picture. He slapped it down on the counter - which very well may be stickier than the floor.

"You seen the guy?" He asked, abruptly.

"Maybe."

"I’m not playing your game. Tell me if you’ve seen him, and I promise not to get a cop who isn’t in your boss’s pocket down here," he snapped.

The guy rolled his eyes and just flipped Steve off, before wandering away to help some paying customers. Steve grabbed his wrist, and squeezed tightly. The guy froze.

"I don't think you understand," Steve said, growling. His voice dropped slightly, voice like rough nails and gravelly, a mix between The Punisher and and Spider-Man (when he saw him get angry once. That had not been fun, it had consisted of Spider-Man threatening a man, and saying "we're gonna play bad cop, worse cop, and it's your job to find out which one of us is the worse cop."). "You're gonna tell me about this guy, or ya gonna loose a fucking hand." He could do that, he could pull that hand straight off.

The guy whimpered, and Steve grinned, feeling the bones splinter under his finger tips. "He was in here a few days ago. Had a seizure after he did some bad coke in the bathroom. A big white guy put him in a cab to the hospital,” he said, panting.

"You remember what day?" Steve asked, yanking the guys arm, making him yell.

"Tuesday, I think!"

Steve nodded, "thank you." He let the guy go.

The guy gasped, "who the fuck are you?"

"Names Frank Barnes," nodded Steve, grinning darkly. He walked off, and sighed. He needs to track that cab.

It took searching with the AI (which he has called PEGGY (Pleasingly Expressive Graciously General Youth (since she sounded young))) for a few hours to find the CV footage, and he watched the big white guy heave Nathan into a cab. He watched the car drive off, and hummed, seeing Centre Hospital come into view, and watched as they helped him out.

He downloaded the footage, wrote down the address, and went off.

Steve landed in a crouch, in front of Jessica, "right, so. Your guy went to Frontier, last seen on Tuesday. Did coke, dragged off to hospital by a big white guy. He ended up at Centre Hospital." He said, handing the information over.

Jessica blinked, and took the information, "you... figured it out?"

"No, I found him," corrected Steve. "Big difference."

Jessica smiled slightly, very slight, barely visible. She held her hand out, "give me your phone."

"Steve, do you have to go out tonight?" Asked Sam, tiredly. "Can't you take a break?"

"No," Steve said, as he pulled on his uniform. "Sam, I need to go out and help people..." He said, thinking of those teenagers. He had kept it to himself, nobody would understand. How could they?

Bucky sighed, "just... stay safe?"

"Always am."

"I heard you got on with Jessica yesterday," teased Spider-Man, though there was a level of pride.

"Yeah, I uh..." Steve swallowed, his mind going back to Frontier. "Spidey, there were teenagers... I couldn't do anything, I..." He gagged, breathing erratic.

Peter took his hand, calming him, "hey... I'll deal with it."

Frontier ending up without an owner for the next few years, the building on lock down; Team Red busted the place.

Steve had heard it over a police scanner while overlooking Brooklyn, and rushed off, he didn't know what to expect when it came to a bank heist with hostages, but he knew it wouldn't be fun.

He landed on the rooftop next to the bank, and knelt down on the roof. He eyed the building, which looked normal, had it not been for the police officers surrounding the building with guns raised, unable to go in.

Steve could though. He slunk into the darkness, shimmying down the side of the building, using the fire escape, and eyed the window, which allowed him to look straight in. There were fifteen men with guns, and one of them held a ten year old boy, who was struggling and crying, with a mother crying and begging, held back by two men. He was late, a few already shot and injured, (thankfully not dead), but he wasn't too late.

Steve slowly pulled open the window, and slipped in, twisting in a way he had seen Spider-Man twist, contorting muscles. He landed on the floor, silently, behind the cowering victims. A few jumped and looked over, brightening upon seeing Steve. He held a finger to his lips with a small smile.

Moving over to a pillar, Steve hid behind it, pulling his shield off his back, and peered out. He stared at the two men holding the woman, and threw his shield, lighter than one would, and it slammed into one man, then the next, which ricocheted off the second man and into the man holding the kid, the shield flying back into Steve's hand.

Everyone turned to Steve, and one opened fire. Steve jumped out of the way with a back flip, and ducked under a man who tried to hit him over the head. Steve slammed his elbow into the mans face, making the man fall down knocked out instantly (Steve was relieved he didn't hit too hard), and threw his shield at the man opening fire, knocking his in his chest. He turned to the others and counted.

Ten guys left.

Steve held up his shield, and cracked his neck, "next?"

Five ran at him front the front, aiming for his head, and Steve saw it for what it was. Distract him by aiming for the head, and actually go for the legs from behind. With a calming breath, he heard five more pairs of feet sneaking behind him, and he tilted his head slightly.

Two people swung crowbars at his head, and Steve ducked, dropping the shield, and grabbed the two crowbars, and pulled - the two didn't let go in time an slammed face to face. "Ouch, talk about a bad kiss."

Steve grabbed the shield and stood, catching a punch aimed at his head, and slammed the edge of shield behind him when he heard the click of a gun go off, the bullet bouncing off of it and hitting the guy in the ankle instead, breaking it and he screamed, falling.

Steve winced, hearing the bone crack and splinter apart, "hey man, don't be so broken up about it."

He ducked again as a gun was shot at his upper half, "are you mad at me?" The bullet hit the man who punched him instead. "If feels like your mad at me!" Six. Two in front, four behind.

Two from behind aimed at his legs, and he cartwheeled out of the way, and threw his shield at the two in front, knocking them down as it landed in their chests, winding them and cracking a rib. The shield fell to the floor, and Steve pulled his fists up.

"This is gonna be fun..."

The four hesitated, and one of the four yelled, and shot - Steve was too slow, and turned, so it hit his arm instead. The guy who shot kept shooting, and ran at him, only for Steve to quickly check nobody was behind him, and to dodge, then slam a fist into his face, knocking him back, and out. That was a bit tactless.

Steve looked to the last three and shrugged, "so, the four of us. Rubber of bridge? Barbershop quartet?"

One guy sighed, and mumbled under his breath, "he's clearly been hanging out with Spiderman..."

Steve considered than an honour, "there's a hyphen between Spider and Man, very short pause. Quick."

"What?" Asked the one guy.

"I can hear your not using a pause," Steve shrugged.

The second guy sighed in defeat, "great Spider..... Man's protégé is just as annoying as him."

Steve didn't want to throw the first punch, and swallowed. "You guys cowards or something?"

That got the third guy bristling, "what?!" He raised the gun, and Steve rushed him, grabbing the gun and pulling it from his hand, and swiping the guys legs. 

The second guy dropped his gun, and pulled out a knife, slashing at Steve, who bent back slightly, getting a slight cut across his chest. He raised his arm and bashed the gun from his hand, and uppercut the man.

Steve turned to the last man, "you wanna turn yourself in?"

The man swallowed, and knelt, hands up, "whatever you say Cap."

Steve made sure the criminals were arrested and hostages were safe, and comforted the small boy, as the mother rapidly thanked him.

One of the officers walked over to Steve, "hey, I just wanna say thanks for your help..."

Steve waved him off, "anytime sir."

"So... I've heard you've been turning to a life of a vigilante..." The officer said, watching Steve carefully.

Steve shrugged, "yeah. I mean... why shouldn't The Avengers look out for the little guy, right?"

The officer looked to Steve completely, "you really have been following in Spider-Man's footsteps."

Steve nodded, "yeah... he's helping me..."

The officer nodded, "hey... I don't know if you remember me. But, we met back in The Battle of New York."

Steve stared for a second, and his eyes lit up, smiling, "Sergeant Silva! Good to see you!"

"You too," smiled Silva, nodding.

"How've you been?" Asked Steve, easing up slightly.

Silva nodded, "I've been good."

"I'm sorry I was late, I only heard it over the police scanner when a cop car drove passed," Steve winced, itching the back of his head.

Silva nodded, and laughed, "you got here in time. If you ever need police help, call me." He smiled, and patted Steve's back. He looked and said, "you should go, officers are coming over."

"Oh right, vigilante's and cops don't get one," laughed Steve, rushing off.

Sarah Wilson for all accounts is a well adjusted woman with two sons, a brother who is an Avenger, and has two friends in her brothers boyfriends, former "terrorist" James Barnes, and former War Criminal Steve Rogers, aka; White Wolf and Captain America.

So, upon seeing Captain America take down a bank heist last night in the morning news, she panicked, and called Steve.

"Sarah?"

"Steve? Are you okay? Is Sam? Bucky? The Avengers?!"

"Sarah? What are you talking about?" Came Steve's confused tone.

"The bank heist!" Snapped Sarah, terrified.

"Oh! Yeah, I'm fine. It was just me, the others didn't come. I think it's below their pay grade or something - which is stupid if you ask me. I mean like, come on! The little guy is just as important. We should be fighting aliens and rapists and purse thieves!"

Sarah blinked, and said, "so what you're saying is; you're turning into a vigilante?"

"Well, hero and vigilante are sorta the same thing? And, have you not heard? I'm apparently Spider-Man's protégé." Steve said, with non-hidden pride.

Sarah frowned, "oh..."

"But, I was almost late yesterday. Spidey said that it happens, but it shouldn't have... I only heard it on a passing police scanner. So, I'm gonna need one of those."

Sarah thought, and nodded, "well... what you're telling me is... you need someone to help you..."

Steve fell silent, then said with a tone of recognition, "you mean like... a guy in the chair?"

"Yes, except... in this case it'd be a woman in the chair," Sarah said, eyeing her laptop, and phone.

"Sarah..." Steve said, tone warning.

"Steve, let me help." Sarah said, smiling, "I have everything I need. Let me help you, I'd be an honoured."

Steve frowned, "Sarah... please — "

"I'm going to help you either way," warned Sarah. "You have my number."

It fell silent for a moment, until Steve sighed.

"Fine. But, it'll be on my burner phone," Steve warned. He then said softly, "thank you. This means a lot..."

"Of course Steve, I'm glad you're alright." Sarah smiled, and then frowned - how is this her life?

"A robbery?! What if you was killed?!" Roared Bucky, furious as he paced.

Steve sighed, and he only got more miserable as Tony and Fury walked in. He hated the looks he was getting; Bruce was silently and careful; Bucky and Sam were panicking; Natasha was carefully and unimpressed; Wanda was judging; Vision seemed confused; Fury was angry; Rhodes was not amused, very much like he was when the "Civil War" broke out, and Steve had a different view; Clint seemed to understand; Thor was impressed; and Tony... Tony looked so disappointed.

"Rogers," greeted Fury.

"Director," he grumbled

"You had no back up!" Sam said, hysterical, running a hand though his short, black hair.

Fury crossed his arms, "so? Why did you do it?"

It fell silent.

Steve looked around the room. They seemed to be on the edge of their seats. "Why did I do... what?"

"Compromise yourself? Throw yourself into harms way? Not throw up a mission plan? Why?" Asked Fury, prattling off somethings.

Sometimes Steve asked Spider-Man questions, which he always knew were probably stupid in the vigilantes mind, but he had to ask, because he was apart of the Avengers Initiative, and there were certain things that just weren't done,but where being done with Spider-Man. And, Spider-Man answered the questions with patients, but with startling clarity, as if it was common sense.

"What?" Asked Steve, and finally, he understood what Spider-Man probably thought of him. As if he was an idiot - but learning.

"Why did you do it?" Fury asked, "why did you go in there and fight those robbers?"

With a startling clarity of his own, with voice full of common sense, he simply said, "well, why shouldn't I?"

The shooting range was fun. He never expected to be here, and yet here he was. With The Punisher, shooting. He's missed so many time, it's a wonder how he managed to his anyone with shield. Don't get him wrong, it did hit someone on the target, just not where he was meant to be hitting. Could Spider-Man hit a target?

"Can Spidey hit on target?" Steve asked, watching Frank hit target after target.

"When I began teaching him, it helped with things. Also, because he had to stop ninja slapping guns from hands." Frank said, "he can hit areas that matter, but not like this. At least in this dimension."

"Huh," Steve hummed. He grinned, "how bad am I?"

Frank laughed - honest to god laughed - and looked to him, "I've seen worse. Don't worry."

The Amazing Spider-Man rang on his phone, making Peter open a tired, and bleary eye. What was he doing last night? Oh, right... sending in pictures to the Daily Bugle, and looking over blueprints for Rand Enterprises, then had a movie night with Ned. His burner phone was ringing. What time is it? The alarm ready seven in the morning... and, he had fallen asleep on the ceiling, curled up. Ned groaned, waking up on the sofa.

He shot a web, and pulled, only to grab a crowbar and hit himself in the face with it, making him yell and drop the weapon. He webbed the phone, and answered, "heeeeoooo..."

"Hey Spider-Man, you okay?"

"Frank?" Peter grumbled, voice rough.

"Hey, Steve has terrible aim," Frank said, as if it was life and death.

Peter wished he was dead, given how exhausted he was. "Right? Okay... gonna call Clint. Thanks Frank." He hung up, and called Clint, who picked up a minute later, "hey Clint..."

"Peter! How are ya, dude?"

"Fine," yawned Peter. "Steve can't aim for shit apparently. According to Frank. Think you could teach him?"

Clint grinned, "sure. Get some sleep kid."

"Alright Clint," yawned Peter. He hung up and began typing.

Spidey: Hey Steve. Frank's told me your terrible at shooting, meet with Clint. He's offered aiming lessons. How can you be bad? You have a shield!

Captain:  Give me a break! Wanna hang out tonight?

Spidey:  Sure. Have fun!

He dropped his burner phone on the floor, not bothering if it cracked.

"Go back to sleep Ned."

"Whatever you say, Peter."

Steve stood in the middle of the training room, slightly worried. Sure, he knows Clint, but this is different. He's getting lessons from Clint. He knew he wasn't the best, but has he really been that bad with his shield? Possibly.

"Steve," greeted a cheerful, yet old voice, making Steve turn. Clint was walking over with a bow and arrow.

"Hey Clint," greeted Steve, smiling tensely, standing. He was slightly worried.

"Relax. You're in a different ball game down there." Grinned Clint. He nodded to a wall with a jerky head, "hit the wall with your shield."

Steve hummed, and looked to the wall. There was a huge bullseye on it, no doubt Tony would have complained and gotten involved, had it not been for the fact he wanted to keep the team together. He aimed, and threw. He didn't get bullseye, but he got close.

Clint grinned, and moved, pulling the shield and handed it back, and raised his arm, "higher Steve, straight arm. It's all in the wrist...."

Steve listened, and moved his arm, "like that?"

"Yeah, you're doing well." Clint assured, holing Steve's arm steady, "so, how's it going out there?"

"Fun, learning a lot," Steve said, shooting. "Missed." He sighed, missing again, but he got closer, so he guesses that's a win.

"But, better." Clint assured, waving a hand.

Steve rushed over, pulling it out, and moving back to Clint, and aiming again and shooting. "Damn it..."

"It'll take a while to get it," Clint smiled softly, "so... this a mentor and protégé thing you have with Spider-Man..."

"Something like that," Steve said, shuffling. "Is it bad I don't know his identity?"

"No," assured Clint. "Spidey's very protective of his identity. There's been issues with his identity, an near issues with his identity. So, it'll take a while. But, it'll happen."

Steve was interested and shrugged, "fair." He threw his shield, "yes!" Bullseye!

"Great! Now you have to keep that!"

Steve grinned, "right..."

Clint smiled, "how about same time next week?"

"Sure..." Smiled Steve, excited to hand out more.

Steve did pull ups on the metal bar, pulling up and down. Mr. Cage was under him, watching.

"So, how've you been?"

"I've been fine," answered Steve. He was bulking up and getting stronger. "Thank you for your help by the way Mr. Cage..."

Mr. Cage huffed a laugh, "call me Luke."

"Okay, Luke," smiled Steve.

Mr. Cage held a hand out, "give me your phone."

Steve smiled, and lowered his phone slowly. He watched as Mr. Cage Luke took he phone, and punched in a number, "call me."

"Okay Luke," smiled Steve.

Spider-Man and Steve were fighting; well, it was sparring in the middle of the roof.

"I swear to god," Steve said, staring up at the black sky, the stars small and barely there. "Why do you always go for the legs?"

Spider-Man smiled behind his mask, more like smirked. "Why do you keep forgetting to jump?"

"I’m not forgetting," Steve said, frowning. "It’s just... difficult, y’know?” He looked over at Spider-Man, and held out a hand. "Help me up."

When Spider-Man offered his hand, Steve grabbed hold, and instead of using it to help himself up, tugged down and over his head. Spider-Man yelped as he fell, flung over Steve, landing hard on the roof. His mouth almost dropped open in shock once he realised what had happened, and Steve laughed. He honest to God, laughed. 

"Now that," Steve said, eyes sparkling under his mask, "was well-deserved."

"Rematch," Spider-Man demanded. (He was so happy - he caught him off guard. The next thing is; Steve pinning him down.)

Steve grinned, "you’re on."

"Jeez Steve, you're getting more flexible," Clint laughed, as Steve was aiming his arm, and hitting multiple bullseye's. Seven out of ten, not bad, but he wants full tens.

"Yeah, I've been picking up Spider-Man's moves," laughed Steve, snorting.

Clint grinned, "yeah. About that. When do I get to see you kick Nat's ass?"

"Never. I don't think I'm ready for that."

"Sure you are," promised Clint.

"Yeah, right," laughed Steve.

Clint looked to him, and handed him his phone number on a piece of paper. "Now, bend your knees slightly."

"I think the next thing you need to learn is how to work in a team," Spider-Man said, as he met up with Steve just outside of Hell's Kitchen.

Steve titled his head, "a team? I work with The Avengers, and since when do vigilante-hero's work in teams?"

"The Defenders, they battled ninjas and Elektra, saving New York. That's Daredevil, Iron Fist, Luke Cage and Jessica Jones. The Punisher and Daredevil regularly team up. So does Jessica and Daredevil. Deadpool and Hawkeye. You get the gist."

"But, that's... hectic?" Steve shrugged, looking to Hell's Kitchen warily.

Spider-Man laughed seeing him. "Yeah, which is why you gotta be able to adapt. I'm in a regular team; Team Red. This consists of me, Daredevil and Deadpool. So, tonight you'll meet Double D and DP, and see what we do." He climbed up a wall, and waved a hand, "come on!"

Steve hastily followed, close behind Spider-Man and said, "so, what are we doing?"

"We're taking down a child trafficking ring. And, because Deadpool's working with us, he's not going to kill anyone." Spider-Man said, as they jumped from building to building.

"And, how will they take to me being here?" Asked Steve, nervously. After all, Daredevil is terrifying, even Spider-Man warned him about him. And, Deadpool is insane. Simple as that. While Spider-Man regularly teams up with them, could they really be trusted?

"DP will flirt with you, but if you tell him it makes you uncomfortable, he'll stop. And, Double D will be all angry and brooding to you." Spider-Man said, "but, they'll shut up about it because I want you there."

"And that makes a difference?"

"Daredevil was my mentor when I started out, and Deadpool was my first friend in this gig," Spider-Man said, voice full of fond nostalgia. "They're terrifying and scary, and inappropriate, but I trust them with my life. They taught me everything I know. And, most things they know."

And, if Spider-Man trusts them, Steve will too.

They came to a stop on a building, and Steve tensed, seeing too figures in red, one with horns and the other with guns and katana's.

"Hey Red!" Called Spider-Man, making the katana guy turn.

"Baby boy!" Called the katana guy with excitement. Which then turned coy, "and sexy." He flirted, and moved around Steve, who tensed slightly. "That is America's ass, it's like a peach. And, I'm hungry." He purred.

So, this is Deadpool... Steve realised, and he scowled, unimpressed. "Taken."

"Does mean you can't have a third," moaned Deadpool. "Two dicks at once."

"Would you shut up?" Hissed the other with horns, this must Daredevil. He nodded his head to Steve, "Captain."

"Mr. Daredevil," nodded Steve, tense, heart racing slightly. It was like meeting a Father, especially now that he knew Daredevil trained Spider-Man.

Daredevil's lips quirked slightly, then disappeared. It was so quick Steve almost missed it. "So, you'll be joining us then."

"Uh, yeah? Spider-Man said he wanted to see how to work in a team," shrugged Steve.

Daredevil nodded, looking to Spider-Man approvingly, "good."

Spider-Man grimaced, "'Pool, do you have... mint?"

"No," Deadpool said, confused.

Steve frowned, hearing his heart beat change, "yes you do. You're lying. Spidey, do you not like mint?"

"It's not a case of I don't like mint, it's more like; I'm part spider. Spiders have an aversion to mint. And, I can't thermoregulate."

Deadpool waved a hand, "woah, woah! Wait! He can tell lies like you and DaddyDevil?"

Daredevil gave a disgusted growl, "I slept with you once." He whispered under his breath, while Spider-Man shivered in disgust.

"Yes, I taught him," Spider-Man shrugged.

"So it's true, Captain America is Spider-Man's protégé," hummed Deadpool.

Daredevil scowled, "can we focus?" He gestured, "ten minutes that way. Let's go."

Spider-Man patted Steve's back, as they watched Deadpool and Daredevil rush off. Spider-Man followed, and Steve was close behind again.

Steve wondered if he would just be watching, or if he would also be involved in the fight. Would Spider-Man let him?

The trafficking ring was an abandoned warehouse, dilapidated, crumbling, with at least fifty heartbeats of men with muscles, and at least a hundred small heartbeats of children in the basement. Steve felt sick, as Team Red and him knelt behind the opposite building roof.

Spider-Man looked to him, "talk to me Steve. What do you smell and hear?"

Steve looked over, worried, "what if I miss it up? My senses aren't as good as yours."

"And, mine isn't as good as Reds." Assured Spider-Man, "we fill each other. Talk to me."

Steve focused, he knew there was fifty, but there's more. Focus! "There's three floors to the building, floor one, floor two and the basement. Floor one has thirty people on, all have guns, all loaded, a few have grenades... ten have grenades... five in the back, two at the door, one on left and one on the right, one in the middle of the room... can't tell if there's knives, but they more than likely are. Second floor has..." He tilted his head, much like Spider-Man and chased the sound, moving it, "thirty on the top floor. Again, each has a gun... no grenades there. But, ten of them are in business suits. So, I'm guessing that's were the deals are going down." He said, "the basement has at least a hundred kids... hundred a fifty. All different genders, youngest is four, eldest is ten... there's a trap door on the floor. It's in the back were those men with the grenades are..." He looked to the others, "how was that?"

"Holy shit, you absolute sex machine," whispered Deadpool in amazement and lust.

Daredevil nodded, "good. But, you missed something."

"There's a kid upstairs," Spider-Man answered instantly. "She's seven..." He whispered, softer and voice tight.

Daredevil's muscles tightened, "still missing something. They've been drugged to keep them quiet and compliant." His index finger and thumb rubbed his chin, thoughtfully.

Spider-Man did the same, mimicking Daredevil. Steve watched them, and glanced to Deadpool, who didn't seem bothered by the mimicking.

"Captain, I want you and Deadpool upstairs, Spider-Man and I'll take care of downstairs. Remember 'Pool no killing," Daredevil said, tone serious and gravelly. Steve was sure it was put on, but nonetheless, it was terrifying.

"But they’re pedophile assholes Red!" Snapped Dedpool, "what are they gonna do, grow a conscience?”

Admittedly, nobody did not have much of a retort; Deadpool was right, child molesters and child trafficking ring workers have never made use of their second chance. "Come on, just this one time. Revenge and such! Pretty please cutie-pies, with whipped cream, some rainbow sprinkles, chocolate chips, ooo and maybe those colourful mini marshmallows — ?"

"No. No killing," Spider-Man cut off his rambling, voice stern.

Deadpool gasped, "did you hear that yellow? The disrespect! Yes, I know we deserved it white, but still!"

Daredevil grinned, his tone more mischievous, "but, I guess some accidental non-lethal bullet wounds here and there couldn't have been helped. It would be such a shame."

"Oh you sneaky bastard, Red," Deadpool sing-songed, wagging his finger then booping Spider-Man on his nose. Spider-Man promptly smacked his hand away and turned his attention back to their target.

Steve eyed them; they were so different, yet seemed prepared to work together. But, how do they get anything done? Spider-Man's a ball full of energy, Daredevil is tense and serious, and Deadpool is... well... Deadpool...

"Spider-Man enter through the back door, take out the grenades and move onto the guns. I'll go through the front - they won't be expecting that. Deadpool, top window the left, Captain top window to the right, get that kid out of there. I'll go in first, that's your signal to move in."

Spider-Man gave a thumbs up, "see you down there." He patted Steve's shoulder, "keep the kid safe. Good luck." He squeezed gently, before shooting a web and swinging off.

Deadpool rolled his shoulders, "maximum effort." He fell and landed on the road, rushing over.

Steve nodded, "right." He followed Deadpool, and moved to the right building, eyeing inside the window. He felt sick, the girl, that seven year old girl, was stood in the middle of these men in suits. They were leering at her, and it was gross, and pure... evil...

He thought he fought evil. But, he hasn't. He's fought bad, but not evil. When he started doing this whole "vigilante" gig, he began seeing evil, and this? This is the tipping point for him. This is evil. Where were the cops?... not doing there job, probably a bit dirty... and Steve knew... this is what he should be doing...

There's a loud bang, and guns being shot, and two grenades go off. He hears the door from the back bang open, and thwip thwip from Spider-Man. He hears glass shattering from the left upper window, so Steve smashes the right and jumps in.

Steve's eyes zero in on the girl, surrounded by men. They don't have guns. Steve lifted his shield, and blocked the bullets, as he threw his shield, knocking them all down. He rolls over, and gently pulls the girl down, covering her with a shield.

"Hi," he smiled to her softly. Deadpool could deal with bad guys, Steve needed to calm the girl.

"H-hi?" Whimpered the girl.

"I'm gonna take you outside, and set you on the roof. You need to stay there, okay?" Steve asked, standing, and picking the girl up.

"O-okay, Mr. America..." Whispered the girl, as Steve ran, shielding her.

"What's your name?" He asked, holding back a grunt as a bullet lodged into his side.

"L-Leah..."

"I'm Steve," he jumped through the window, and set her down carefully. "Leah, I need you to stay here, I'll be back, by Mr. Pool needs my help." Steve said, and checked her over, "can you do that?"

Leah nodded, "yes Mr. America."

Steve nodded with a smile, and rushed back in. He fought with all his might, he blocked and had Deadpool's back. Surprisingly, as chaotic as the three were, when it came to missions, they were deathly serious.

Steve's seen Spider-Man in action, how could he not have? But,this? This was personal for Spider-Man. He knew Spider-Man was trained and mentored by Daredevil, but this was different. So, so different. It was terrifying. Spider-Man was leaving behind vegetables, and Daredevil looked so proud, and Deadpool was squealing in excitement, and Steve only thought; we should be killing them. They don't deserve life.

He watched the bodies fall, broken and bruised, as they moved to the trap metal door. Spider-Man forced it open, and frowned, seeing the kids.

So many... how could they deal with this and continue on with their day lives?

As Spider-Man and Deadpool got them out, (as Deadpool was surprisingly good with kids), Daredevil tied up the men, and Steve went and got Leah. They waited for the police, calm and patient, and Spider-Man and Deadpool teased each other and poked each other, which entertained the kids, Daredevil stood over them like a protector and Steve just watched silently.

Daredevil titled his head, "cops. We gotta go." He rushed off, followed by a sombre Deadpool who waved.

Steve looked to Spider-Man, "do we go to?" It felt wrong to do this. So wrong. To just leave.

Spider-Man shook his head, "I stay until the last second. I can swing away, they need to climb."

Steve stared at him, and said, "I'm staying." So, he did, he stayed with Leah in his arms, and stayed even when Spider-Man swung off. He stayed until the police got there; a Detective Brett Mahoney who assured he was friends with Daredevil, and the rushed off.

"How?" Asked Steve, landing behind the three members of Team Red, who watched with careful eyes on the opposite building of the children. "How can you deal with this without feeling sick?"

"We do feel sick," assured Spider-Man, looking over. "We just... deal with it, then cry after patrol..." And, that sad thing was, he wasn't lying.

"I don't think I've ever seen you that... angry," Steve said, watching Spider-Man carefully.

Spider-Man blinked, and looked down, "I was seven..."

Steve felt sick. Did all "vigilante-heroes" have a tragic backstory?

Deadpool turned to Steve and grinned, "so! Now that that's been stopped!" He swaggered over, "how about a little smooch well done? After all, you American dreamboat! You was perfect! Didn't forget you lower half once!"

Daredevil stood and walked over, "well done. You did well." It sounded like it physically pained him to say it, but Steve guessed it was because he was technically Spider-Man's protégé.

"I'm Wade," Deadpool said, smirking behind his mask.

Daredevil shot Spider-Man a look, and then turned to Steve, "who else knows about you?"

"You two are the last to know," Spider-Man informed.

It fell silent, with Steve growing uncomfortable. He was about to apologise, when Wade yelled, "WHAT THE SHITBALLS?!"

Steve snorted slightly, grinning, "I met The Punisher first..."

Now Daredevil looked comically horrified, "Castle?! What the fuck, Spider-Man?!"

Spider-Man crossed his arms, "Double D! Seriously? It was gun practice! Frank's the best for that!"

Steve was now full on laughing, watching them all.

Wade grumbled, "and here I thought we had something special." He handed over a burner phone to Steve. "Give me a call gorgeous!" He jumped off the building, landing with a thud, and crack.

Spider-Man rolled his eyes and looked to Daredevil, "well?"

Daredevil seemed unimpressed, "you have my number. Give it to him."

Spider-Man saluted with ease, "yes sir."

Daredevil hesitated, "do you trust him?"

Spider-Man thought and looked to Steve. The back to Daredevil, "yeah..."

Daredevil relaxed, and patted Spider-Man's shoulder, then looked to Steve, "Matt... Matt Murdock..." He rushed off, and jumped from building to building, with death defying leaps.

Steve blinked, "did he seriously just tell me his name?"

"Yeah," Spider-Man said, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to Steve, and held his hand out, "Peter... Parker."

Steve blinked and realised, this was a changing point in their relationship. Spider-Man considered him a friend. As he took the hand, he smiled, "Steve Rogers."