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Chapter Text

Steve was alone for the first time in forever when he first met Capt. Jack Harkness. Well, not alone-alone. He was in a packed bar, with fellow soldiers jostling all around him. He had a brown bottle of not-nearly-strong-enough-to-get-him-wasted something or other, and was completely ignoring everyone around him when some soused sergeant fell off the stool next to him only to be replaced by a grinning, dimpled young man with a cleft chin and white suspenders.

“What are you doing here alone, soldier? Looking for some fun?” the man asked Steve with a wink and a cheesy smirk, and clinked a few coins down on the table for the bartender.

Steve raised his eyebrows and gulped the mouthful of is-that-bourbon? so quickly some of it went down the wrong hole and he sputtered a little, trying to catch his breath.

Was this…man… flirting with him? He’d never been very good catching if someone was flirting with him, early on because there was no one flirting with him, and later because he had other things to be thinking about, like rescuing Bucky, saving the country, trying find a way to take down Hitler. But most of the girls who flirted with him (girls!) were more subtle about it. And they were girls. Not that he had anything against boys who liked…boys. He was in the army after all, he had seen all sorts of things, walked in on all sorts of things, would like his mind scrubbed of any memory of all sorts of things, so it wasn’t that. No. It was that even if such things happened in the army, were accepted (again, in a hidden, secretive sort of way) there was still a lot of scandal wrapped around such things and so men would never be flirting with other men, in public!

But the man was still waiting, gazing down at Steve (how was he doing that? Steve was at least a head taller than the other man, so how could he be gazing down at him?). He hadn’t moved, and there was even a look in his eyes that told Steve he was ashamed of nothing, and wouldn’t accept any back talk, thank you very much.

Or maybe he was gloating over the fact that he had made Captain America choke on his drink.

Well, Steve was not one to back down from a challenge.

He straightened his shoulder and looked the man straight in the eye. “Who says I’m here alone?”

The man laughed and leaned back, completely at ease in this environment. “Sipping bourbon at a bar, hunched over, ignoring all of the yelling in this stuffy place. You didn’t come here with anyone.”

“Well, what’s it to you?”

“Just curious seeing a young man alone at a bar. You only drink alone if you’re melancholy or looking for a hook-up.”

Steve couldn’t stop his eyes from growing impossibly wide, but he did stop himself from sliding backward off of the stool. He looked around to see if anyone had heard the man’s voice, but no one was looking at them strangely. Steve lowered his voice slightly, wary about someone overhearing them even if it seemed unlikely. “I don’t want to cause any trouble, and I’m not going to report you or anything—” he raised his hands defensively even though the man’s expression hadn’t changed and he still looked at ease “—but I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go around propositioning…” he can’t keep a blush from heating his cheeks “people…in such open places.”

For a minute Steve thought the man was going to… well, he didn’t know. Maybe leave? Slink away? But he looked too comfortable to slink… maybe saunter off without a care? Or maybe the man would laugh it off, deny everything, call Steve crazy for even saying such a thing.

The man did none of these. Instead he gave Steve an appraising look, and then stuck out his hand, pushing it insistently into Steve’s personal space. “Captain Jack Harkness, at your service. Thanks for watching my back.”

It was a kind smile, the man—Jack—gave him, and it made Steve think that maybe it was easier than he’s ever thought to make friends, without having to save their life first. He extended his own hand and gripped Jack’s firmly.

“Steve Rogers.”

Jack wiggled his eyebrows in a way that 1) Steve wasn’t sure until that moment was physically possible and 2) still felt a little too flirty. “Steve Rogers, eh? Well I’ll be damned. Captain America himself sitting on my barstool.”

Steve jumped to his feet, thinking he understood why Jack was paying so much attention to him (it was definitely ‘cause he’d taken the man’s seat. Everyone knew you never took a regular’s seat) and tried to wave Jack over to the stool he’d been occupying, but Jack just chuckled and motioned him back to sitting. “I’m only joking, soldier. No worries. Just a surprise to see such an enterprising hero sitting alone in a backwater pub like this.”

Steve sighed and took another mouthful of bourbon and wished for the thousandth time that night that he could at least get tipsy. It was only times like this that he regretted following Dr. Erksine so many evenings ago. Pre-serum he could’ve at least drowned in alcohol. Now he floated above it, always so far above it. “Sometimes it’s nice just to get away from everything, do you know what I mean? I’m so much more crowded now than I ever was growing up; sometimes I just need to step out for an hour or two.”

“Captain America needs alone time? That’s adorable.” Steve’s shoulders tensed automatically, but Jack went on and eased Steve’s mind. “I do understand though. Sometimes everything is a bit much and getting away is the only way to calm the mind.”

Steve raised his bottle to the man in a quasi-salute downed the rest of the bottle. Jack laughed again and downed his glass of whiskey. Steve checked the time and startled to his feet. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Can’t be late again, not after last time.”

Jack stood as well and threw a few more coins on the table. “I’ll walk you out then, least I can do for keeping you.”

Steve gave the man a half-smile, still unsure of this man’s intentions or what kind of person he was, but didn’t hesitate to let the man walk with him from the hazy room.

The night was cooling. Not chilly, but covered in the crisp blanket of refreshing that seemed to creep in from the sea after the sun set. Steve paused outside to look up at the stars dotting the sky. It always made him more comfortable knowing that there was so much out there no one knew about. So much mystery. He was a big fish in a little pond, sometimes, uncomfortable in his new skin, but knowing that there was so much unknown out there and that others felt the same way about it wrapped around him like the hand-stitched quilt his mother had made him for his ninth birthday. He didn’t matter to the universe, and it was a relief to know that somewhere out there people didn’t even know he existed. He sighed in contentment at finding himself surrounded by twinkling balls of fire that didn’t know his name.

Then he felt a flat hand smack his left butt-cheek with a resounding ‘thwak’ and he spun around.

Jack Harkness stood, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he watched Steve Rogers sputter and raise his hackles.

“Wha?” Steve finally managed to get out, unable to comprehend such a forward advance from someone he had just rejected. What was happening to him? What kind of guy was this Jack Harkness?

Jack stuffed his hands into the pockets of his long coat and leaned back with such cockiness that for a second Steve thought he was an automaton piloted by Howard Stark out for a laugh. It would be just like Howard to try and embarrass Steve like that, and honestly, Jack looked real, but what other explanation was there?

“Oh don’t look so offended, Stevie.”

“Stevie?” Steve most definitely did not squeal.

Jack waved it off. “Yeah. I think we’ll be right ol’ pals in no time. You can call me Jackie if it makes you feel better.” He leaned towards Steve and his grin reminded him of a shark’s: all danger and no familiarity.

Steve blinked a few times and there was an awkward pause before he was able to talk without it sounding like he had bypassed puberty altogether. “Why did you.. uh… smack—”

“Your ass? I smacked your ass ‘cause it’s a nice ass.”

This time Steve swallowed the squeak and when he spoke it was a lot calmer than he was feeling. “I thought I had just finished telling you that I am not looking for a… hook up.”

Jack patted Steve’s arm consolingly. “Don’t worry, big guy. It wasn’t a pre-coital slap on the ass. It was a friendly, platonic, dare I say it, even brotherly slap on the ass. No need to worry.”

“Jack!” Steve spluttered for a second. “Jack, brothers do not slap each other’s asses, not like that.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Alright Stevie. If you want, I’ll kiss it to make it feel better.”

Steve, possibly already getting used to Jack’s obvious inability to have a decent, non-sexual conversation (and he never would have thought that he’d be thinking that ever), merely rolled his eyes and cuffed Jack on the shoulder.

Instead of looking chastised as Steve thought Jack should have, his eyes lit up. “See, Stevie? It’s the same sort of thing. You slapped my arm, I slapped your ass. It’s practically identical.”

Steve gaped at the strange man before him and the way Jack’s face lit up in a smile, his dimples practically glowing in happiness.

“Jack! Jack, it’s not the same at all!”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“No! Jack, you can’t go around slapping other people’s a—butts.”

“I thought you had somewhere to be?” It was obviously a try at changing the conversation, and Steve regularly wouldn’t have let it go, but when he looked down at his watch he saw that now he had less than 5 minutes to get across town to meet Peggy so they could talk strategy. He cursed.

“See?” Jack said, his smugness radiating off him in waves. “Now, Captain, you’d best get going. I’m sure we’ll see each other some other time.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but gave a short wave before turning away.

Then, in a move that had Steve thought about, he really should have anticipated, Jack smacked his ass again.

“Jack!” Steve snarled and spun on his heel, ready to really have it out with the guy, but Jack was already walking away, his dark coat fading into the night, and all Steve could hear was the man’s irritating laugh. He rubbed his butt cheek, checked his watch, and took off at a dead sprint, unwilling to keep Peggy waiting any longer than he already had.

Chapter Text

The second time Steve met Jack was just as, if not more, surprising than the first. He was with the commandos, in the woods, sitting around a campfire, trading stories and slugging shots and everyone was wasted.

Except Steve.

Again.

He was drinking though, which meant he still had to piss like the rest of them, so when a lull in the conversation happened he begged off another drink and got up to go find a tree against which to urinate.

He went far into the woods because, even though he knew none of them could see or hear him (or would even be able to if they weren’t singing and shouting and trying to one-up each other in a who’s-slept-with-more-bouncing-blondes contest) he could still hear them thanks to the super soldier serum and he didn’t want to hear their descriptive red light stories while he was trying to pee thank you very much.

The light got further and further away, the sound of Dum Dum’s off-key yodeling (though he didn’t suppose it was supposed to be yodeling) and Pinky’s guffawing dimmed, and finally he was alone in the dark with nothing but the quiet hum of crickets and a full bladder.

He relieved himself against a pine, and only realized that he let down his guard when a low whistle from somewhere to his left reached his ears. In a move so dexterous and quick that one might have thought he’d have practiced for this very scenario for hours, days even (though he really, actually hadn’t, because that would have just been weird and awful to explain if someone had caught him at it, and really it had never even occurred to him that that would be something he’d have to practice) he tucked himself away, fastened his fly, and had his knuckles three centimeters from Jack Harkness’s face before he realized that he recognized his peeping tom.

“What a beaut!” Jack said succinctly, completely at ease with having Captain America’s actual fist less than an inch from his face.

Steve couldn’t keep the blush from suffusing his face, but he was able to lower his hand without either reaching out to smack Jack across the mouth or running away.

“Jack,” he said, as if talking to a small child, “what are you doing here?”

Jack batted his question out of the air as if it were a pesky gnat flying around his face. “Oh you know, army stuff.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away. “Army stuff. What does that even mean?”

Jack, in response, slapped his ass.

Steve’s fist was back up in record time and again he was able to only just stop himself from punching the man in the face. He took a deep breath and let it out. Then another. “You know, one of these days I’m going to actually punch you in the face, and then you’ll have to deal with only having half of your teeth in your mouth for the rest of your life.”

As if taunting him, Jack’s grin widened, showing off his pearly whites which practically glowed in the light from the moon which trickled between the trees. “Well why haven’t you? Anyone would have by now, you know? Harassment and embarrassment and all that jazz.”

There were any number of reasons why he hadn’t yet divested Jack of his “Never punched by Captain America” card. One was that Steve, with his new super soldier strength, would actually cause some serious damage to the captain’s face. He generally knew how to regulate how much force he put behind a punch, but in times like this when he was off his guard, it would probably be a full on whammy, so it was better to just cancel out the whole deal.

Another reason was because, while he wouldn’t have stood by and watched Jack smack some dame’s—you-know-what, he wasn’t any weakling and could tell that Jack didn’t mean any harm by it. He didn’t know why he knew such a thing, but it was evident, at least in his mind, that Jack was just a ham who was testing the waters with him.

He probably should have punched the man at least once, perhaps called it off as a mistake, regretted it immediately, just so the man would know not to do it again. Instead his inability to physically harm the man was practically an invitation.

Instead of saying any of this, he shrugged and said, “I guess I’m just a coward.”

In another surprising turn of events, Jack did not shrug it off or laugh in his face but frowned. “Steve. You’re not a coward.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and repositioned himself into a more relaxed pose, but far away enough from Jack’s grabby octopus arms. “Why do you think I haven’t given you a black eye then? I suppose you think I like it.” He scoffed.

Jack rolled his eyes and tucked his thumbs underneath his suspenders, stretching them out before him. When Jack talked it was slowly, as if he was trying to find a way to correctly word his sentence. Steve wished he’d just say it so Steve could return to his safe little campfire and the uncomfortable conversations around it which now seemed as uncomfortable as lying on a down mattress. “No…” he paused, “I don’t think you lied back at that bar. You hold honesty, truthfulness, too high to knowingly lie.” Steve raised his eyebrows. “Stevie, baby, don’t tell me you thought that was a secret. You practically project it in everything you say.”

“You’re off topic.”

“My bad. Well, I’m going to tell you something, Stevie, and I promise I have a point, ok?”

“Go on.”

“I once met this girl, name was Rose, she was a firecracker, and together we had a lot of fun.” Steve could feel his face heating up and wanted punch someone, Hitler maybe, because the serum made him able to fight bad guys, save the day, flip tanks even, but he still couldn’t control whether he blushed or not. Jack laughed and leaned sideways against a tree. “Not like that, Stevie. No, she was just a friend. And through her I met another friend, the Doctor—”

“What doctor?”

“Oh, just a doctor. And he was my friend too. And then they left and I’ve been stuck alone, out of time.”

“I understand how you feel,” Steve said, thinking back on his life pre- and post-serum, and how very much like night and day the two were. Lots of things had changed. Steve let the pause lengthen, lost in his memories, comparing skinny Steve Rogers from Brooklyn with Captain-saves-the-day-every-day-America. He shook his head to bring his thoughts back on track. “But I’m not sure how that explains anything.”

“Well, you kind of remind me of him…just a little… the Doctor, I mean. He was all for truth and justice and helping out the little guy, and you’re just like that.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “Okaaaay. So I remind you of an old friend and that’s why you smack my butt in greeting instead of shaking my hand like a normal person?”

Jack gave him a small smile and said, “You remind me of an old friend, and so I slap your ass because I know that you wouldn’t hurt me, just like he’d never hurt me. You remind me of him when you stop yourself from bitch-slapping me all the way to Boston, because he had your self control and you have his loyalty.”

Maybe it made sense after all. He looked at Jack in the darkness and saw some truth in his face. The man was an actor, a good liar, an all-around good guy but filled to the gills with secrets. But, he was telling the truth now.

“You dying or something, Harkness? Is that why you’re letting out all your little secrets?”

Jack snickered, and it turned into a chuckle, and then a guffaw, and finally full-blown hysterical laughter. Steve placed his hand on Jack’s arm and gave a squeeze. Jack’s laughter faded, and he calmed, but Steve couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been hiding this, how long he’d been alone, and how many more secrets he was hiding.

“No,” Jack finally answered, “I’m not dying. Not for a long time yet. No, I just think I can trust you to keep a secret. You can keep a secret, can’t you soldier?”

Steve nodded, and he couldn’t help a little bit of pride sneaking in behind his shield and straightening his spine.

“Good man. Now, I’ve got very important army things to get back to, and you have a something, I’m sure. I’ll see you again sometime, soldier.”

“And what army things do you have to do?” Steve asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Jack gave him a flamboyant wink, said “I never kiss and tell.” And then he was gone. Not like, zap, disappear. He walked away, but it was a quick transition from there to not, and it wasn’t Steve’s place to follow. After a long sigh, Steve started making his way back to the campfire, and was disappointed to find that when he returned, everyone had already passed out around the still crackling embers.

He doused it, and set up camp alone, muttering “never kiss and tell, what does that even mean? Is he kissing the military? What if he’s kissing Colonel Phillips? Eew, why would I think that? Now I’m going to have to scrub out my brain, I hate everything. And these lousy…have to clean up their mess…howling commandos my ass, more like yodeling…the yodeling commandos…Stupid…”

Chapter Text

The third time Steve sees Jack, he’s in the middle of fighting. He’d just taken out four guys with guns, boomeranged his shield to take out three more guys, and had just finished pistol-whipping a masked man that couldn’t have been anything but straight out of training when he feels a quick slap on his right butt cheek.

Without even flinching (and didn’t he feel just like Pavlov’s dog if getting slapped on the rear by a fellow captain didn’t even rouse his temper) he spun and grabbed Jack’s hand. “I will shove my shield so far down your throat, I swear to God, Jackie.”

It wasn’t until Jack’s smile grew so big that it threatened to take over his entire face that Steve realized he’d called Jack by that stupid nickname the man had jokingly offered so long ago. And you know what? He wasn’t even ashamed. Perhaps he should resign himself to Jack being a regularly occurring nuisance in his life. And then a bullet hit the wall above his head and he threw his shield at the attacker. Three more guys came, and then two more, and then five, and he was everywhere at once, kicking, punching, spinning men over his head into walls face-first. Captain America was a very busy man. And then the fighting was over and the commandos were there, and so was Peggy, and some other enlisted Americans wet behind the ears, and Jack was nowhere to be seen.

***

The fourth time is in a bar again, and Steve felt a slap on his ass and Jack slid onto the stool next to him and Steve didn’t even say anything, he just raised his finger to get the bartender’s attention and ordered his friend a beer.

***

The fifth time was actually walking down the street. Steve was on leave, just for the weekend, and Jack saw him from across the street, hollered “Stevie!” at him, and ran across four lanes of busy traffic to get to him. He almost gave Steve a heart attack.

“Don’t do that,” Steve ordered in what he personally considered to be his most Captainly voice, but Jack just laughed him off and went for another ass-slap. And while Steve would normally be ok with it (ok being a relative term that means that he can’t always stop it and it’s harmless so just go with it, ok? Ok), today he was aware enough of the throngs of people around him and so he caught Jack’s hand before it even came close to his rear-end.

“What is it, Stevie?” Jack asks in his most innocent voice. (And incidentally, hearing Captain Jack Harkness sound that innocent raised all kinds of alarms in Steve’s mind).

“What is it? I’ll tell you what it is, Captain Jack. You just ran across a busy street without so much as looking where you were going.”

“I looked!”

Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Ok, so I didn’t. I was excited. It’s not the worst thing I could have done.”

“You could have been hit.”

Jack rolled his eyes and Steve squeezed tighter. He didn’t need to see another young man die before him, not on his day off, not when he couldn’t blame the Nazis or high-ranking officers. Not when there was no bad guy.

“Ok, Steve. I get it. I promise I’ll be safer next time.” Jack pulled at the arm Steve still held in a vice-like grip, and Steve dropped it, scared that he might have actually hurt the man, but Jack just rubbed at it subconsciously as he gave Steve another shit-eating grin.

“Thank you. I guess.”

“So what are you up to? Going to go somewhere fun?” He wriggled his eyebrows as if he’d said something containing an especially clever innuendo, but Steve was starting to think of himself as immune to whatever Jack said or did and so ignored him. Jack followed him as he walked, and he ended up showing Jack the street where he’d grown up.

***

Steve never told anyone about Jack. It wasn’t that he was keeping it a secret, he just never thought about it. It was unimportant. Jack was his friend, just like Bucky was his friend, or Peggy, or any of the commandos, or even Howard Stark, but unlike all of them, Jack only ever saw Steve when he was alone. It was accidental. They always seemed to bump into each other at the most random moments, but it wasn’t a problem. He wasn’t sure what Bucky would say if he met Jack (they might actually get fired up enough to engage in a bout of fisticuffs over one too many innuendos gone awry), or how Peggy would react to Jack’s inability to greet Steve without slapping his rear-end. Steve liked Peggy. Liked her-liked her. He didn’t want to ruin it by introducing her to a sex-crazed idiot with grabby hands, especially since Jack seemed to fall both ways and would probably try to woo Peggy. Then he actually might punch Jack in the face.

Steve never saw Jack when he was around other people, or more specifically, his friends-turned-family, and so it was no surprise that Jack popped up just when Steve least expected it, in the middle of a fight between him and a scrappy young Nazi with a tank. Steve was alone. The other commandos had headed off the rest of the Nazi fighters, ambushing them, and no doubt beating them up at that very moment. Peggy was needed elsewhere (as she had often said to him when he questioned her going off so often. She was an agent after all, and she had places to go, people to see, and giant alien conspiracies to solve). Stark was building stuff. Bucky was with the rest of the commandos. It was one-on-one, Steve vs. Nazi with a Tank. And you know? It wasn’t as one-sided as one might think.

Steve tried to advance, holding his vibranium shield in front of him to ward off dear-god-are-those-missiles? It wasn’t working well. Every two steps forward he’d be shot at, and though his trusty shield took the brunt of the beating, the actual force would push him back those two steps, driving his heels deep into the dirt.

He didn’t stop. If he kept going long enough, the tank would run out of missiles, and then he could jump the tank, stop the kid, save the day, yadda yadda.

His plan was even working and everything. After what seemed like hours into the stand-off, though it was probably forty minutes tops, the tank stopped firing at him and he peaked above his shield just a bit. Yep, that was silence. And then the top of the damn tank swung open and out popped an angry man with a gun. Never a good combination.

The Nazi shot at Steve, but Steve blocked it with his shield, and was relieved to note that the gun’s bullets were doing considerably less damage against Steve’s advancements. And then it all seemed to go to hell.

There was a rustling off to one side, and with as much care and caution as Steve possessed he looked off to the side only to see Captain Jack damnit-get-out-of-here Harkness sauntering toward him with a devil-may-care grin splitting his face. Could the man not see the Nazi? The tank? The indentations of both his boots from being pushed back so often and the spatter of holes everywhere from when the tank had fired at him? Or was the man being purposefully obtuse and suicidal?

“Stevie!” Jack called out as he reached the end of cover, and Steve could see in his peripheral vision the man in the tank swivel, aim his pistol at Jack’s heart, and squeeze the trigger. Before Steve could blink his shield was out of his hand and slamming into the Nazi’s head. It was too late; the bullet had met its mark.

Jack fell, and Steve could not even force himself to look away from the glazed look in the man’s eyes. He did not check to see if the Nazi was passed out or dead. He did not retrieve his shield. He did not run to get help. No, he ran to Jack, forcing himself to look at the hole that had gone clear through the captain’s brain. Lucky shot. Such a small target, so far away, the bastard should have missed. But he didn’t, and Jack was gone.

Jack lay on the ground, blood seeping out of the back of his wound and into the ground. Steve kneeled by him, not knowing what to do.

That was his failure. He never knew what to do when he lost a man. He hadn’t known what to do when he lost his mother years ago, hadn’t been able to figure out if he was supposed to cry or supposed to stay strong. He did both anyway. And now, he seemed unable to even will the tears to come. His cheeks stayed dry. Jack had been his friend, and he couldn’t even cry when he had gotten him killed.

What kind of monster was he?

And then, the most miraculous thing happened (and Steve has seen his share of miracles) Jack blinked. His eyelids closed slowly over glazed eyes and when they opened again there was recognition in them. And the skin around the wound in his head knit itself back together again. Jack groaned and brought probing fingers to his face. He gingerly patted around the hole in his head and sat up, Steve scrambling to help him up, his hands fluttering uselessly around Jack face and arms.

Then Steve did want to cry. He wanted to drag himself out of this hell-hole of a war, put himself in a nice, safe sanatorium where everything made sense, and cry his eyes out. Perhaps he could invest in a straightjacket.

Instead of doing any of these things (though he was close. No one would ever know how close he was to just walking out of the war just then) he placed a firm hand on Jack’s shoulder and said, very precisely, “Wha’ tha’? I ca—wha? I don’t… can you…muh?”

Jack looked at Steve, and though the man was sitting, Steve could still see the puddle of blood from his wound seeping slowly into the earth. He forced his eyes away from the rusty dirt and focused instead on Jack who looked vaguely apologetic. That in itself was enough to make Steve think he really had gone insane, because Jack has never looked anything but confident (cocky) or self-assured (cocky) and Steve was probably hallucinating.

“Sorry about that,” Jack started, waving at the puddle of his own blood.

Steve did squeal then, and he wasn’t even ashamed to admit it. He squealed a little more, than took two deep breaths, another even deeper breath, and said, “no problem.”

Jack’s vaguely apologetic expression morphed into his own version of hysteria, and Steve could see it coming, and knew—just knew that they could not both be hysterical so he took a deep breath and asked in his most this-definitely-makes-sense-yes-it-does-don’t-argue-with-me voice “What the hell just happened?”

Jack breathed in again, and combed his hair back with his fingers. “Well, do you remember those friends I told you about? Rose and the Doctor?”

Steve nodded. He had no idea where this was going, but after what he’d just seen (dead people did not come back to life) he would probably believe anything.

“Ok, well, before we parted ways, due to some unforeseen circumstances, and science so out there it translates roughly into magic, I was…you know what? I’m going to say gifted…gifted with the curious ability to not die. I…um… just can’t.”

Steve swallowed hard. “Right. Ok. I can deal with that. I think.”

Steve was content in what Jack had just said. He really was. He didn’t know how much of this he could handle. Maybe he could find Jack some other time and ask him any questions he was too shell-shocked to ask at the moment, but for now he was good.

Unfortunately, Jack had other plans. It seemed that once he started talking, well, the floodgates were open and they had no intention of being closed. Possibly ever again.

“You see, I can’t tell you too much about how I’m able to come back alive because I really don’t know too much about it myself. I swear I was normal before. Or normal at least in the sense that I didn’t actively revive myself post-mortem, but then the thing happened and I was alive again and Rose and the Doctor were gone and all that was left was me and the clothes on my back and my ability to never ever ever get killed which has worked very well for me in the army, because you know they are always trying to get new people to replace those who have died only they don’t need to do that for me because I don’t die and so it really is a perfect solution except that I don’t want to keep dying and I don’t mean to, really, but it just keeps happening, and it is painful to get killed, bullet in the head, not a pleasant way to go, and of course feeling your skin regrowing at an accelerated rate is pretty damn annoying too, but bones are the worst, even worse than organs and let me tell you, regrowing organs is a bitch, but bone is worse because it’s gotta grow grow grow and then solidify all in a short period of time and the skull is the worst and that’s why if that guy who shot me isn’t dead I’m going to kill him because this was fucking painful, Stevie. It hurt.”

Steve blinked. “I’m sorry.” He relaxed his stance a little. “If it makes you feel better, the serum in my blood makes me heal super fast as well, and so I know what it feels like to have skin close up around a wound as you look at it. And the pain. Of course the pain.”

Jack looked up into Steve’s eyes and smiled a little. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

Steve shook his head. “I didn’t save you. You got shot and then rose from the dead. I had nothing to do with it.”

Jack just gave him a small smile, “That’s not what I was talking about.”

Steve frowned. “What were you talking about, then?”

Jack just shook his head.

***

That wasn’t the last time he saw Jack, and Steve found that knowing there was someone out there who understood, even a little, of what Steve was going through made him feel good. He didn’t lose himself in the stars as much as he used to, and instead put extra effort into feeling comfortable in who he was now and what he was doing.

Jack and Steve never shared a battlefield again, but sometimes they’d end up at the same bar and Jack would smack Steve’s ass and Steve would wriggle his eyebrows (a trick he taught himself just to mess with Jack since the dimpled man took great pleasure in thinking he was the only one able to pull it off so easily) and buy the man a drink. They’d talk about what was happening in the war, what the president had to say about the war, whether or not Steve had the balls to ask Peggy out already goddamnit!

It was a friendly camaraderie, something close to what he had with Bucky, but where Bucky was Steve’s closest friend and brother, Jack was someone to relax with, someone to argue with, blow off steam with. Jack was a good friend, and maybe if Steve had felt a little more comfortable sharing his new friend with Bucky or Peggy or any of the Commandos, then he would have felt safe in the knowledge that one of them (not Bucky, never Bucky, never again) could break the news to Jack that Steve had nose-dived into the ocean. Instead, saying goodbye to Peggy, listening as he broke her heart and feeling his own heart shred to pieces within his chest, he felt this horrible incessant guilty feeling that Jack would have to find out about Steve’s death from the newspapers, and that was just not something Steve could live with. But then, as Steve hit the water and he lost signal with Peggy, Steve figured that he wouldn’t have to live with anything for much longer.

He was wrong.

Chapter Text

Steve liked the future, for the most part, and found himself liking the Avengers despite their first awkward meetings. He liked being around other super heroes, other people who could do more than most, other people who could have his back when he fought. He liked Natasha’s calm ability to take down an entire army of men with nothing but her thighs and fingernails, and at the same time berate Stark for making an inappropriately timed joke. He liked Clint’s sarcasm, and the way he was always there with an open ear and a bud light. He liked Thor’s loud exuberance and overly friendly hugs. He liked Bruce’s calming presence, and soft independence. And even though when he first met Tony all he could see was Howard who he’d talked to last week but who’d been dead for twenty plus years, Steve started to like Tony for his sarcastic wit and reliability. He was starting to love these people, these new friends-turned-family. They would never replace Bucky, the commandos, or Peggy, but they were his family now, and he loved them.

And some days, when they were fighting for their lives, he would see a blast of energy hit the Widow, or a bullet strike the Hulk, or something lash out and throw Iron Man across a lake and he’d be invariably reminded of a certain Captain he used to know who scared him to death getting shot in the head. And other days, arguing in the kitchen with Tony or sitting and having an enhanced Stark-ohol (because when Tony found that normal liquor did nothing to either Steve or Thor he took it as a personal offense and went about inventing something for them) with Thor, he’d think of Jack and remember that he missed him too. Even if Jack had never been family he had been an integral part of his life and Steve found himself missing the man’s playful leering and innuendos, even if he didn’t miss the abuse to his rear end.

But then Tony would challenge Clint to a contest with his video games, and Steve would join in, or he’d curl up with his sketch pad and pencil in a corner of a couch and watch out of the corner of his eye as Bruce cooked breakfast, and Steve could be content in the fact that he was here, and was moving on from his past.

Then weird things started popping out of what Tony called “a fucking rift in the time-space fabric of the universe.” There were all sorts of creatures popping up left and right, and most of them were, while weird, not difficult to handle. Or, not hard to handle if you were an Avenger. Which all of them were, obviously. And then fights about once a week turned into three times a week, turned into every day turned into three times a day and they were getting exhausted.

The Hulk lumbered into the tower and Tony, still in his suit patted the green monster on the back consolingly. “There, there, big guy. We’ll figure this all out somehow.”

The Hulk shook his head and headed towards the gym. It was the only room big enough to be comfortable for him, and easy enough to get to without using the elevator. Once the attacks had increased, the Hulk had refused to revert to Dr. Banner, and Steve could understand why. It was a lot of effort to transform back and forth, and when there were fights three or four times a day… well it must take a lot out of the good doctor.

Tony shook his head and trudged into the elevator, the rest of the gang following him mutely. The constant fighting was taking a lot out of all of them. Even Tony hadn’t gotten out of his Iron Man suit the last few times. And neither Clint nor Natasha changed into something more comfortable. Steve wanted to tell them to relax a little. It hurt to see these people, his team and family so exhausted but unwilling to rest.

But, Steve thought, as the elevator dinged and they exited into the communal living room, and Steve lowered his cowl, he hadn’t really expected to have time to relax anyway.

It wasn’t meant to be, Steve thought when he saw that Fury was standing in the middle of the living room, waiting for them.

“For god’s sake, Fury. Can’t you give us a fucking break?” Tony groaned and walked right past the director, flopping down on the couch with a heavy thud. He put his metal boots up on the glass coffee table with care, and then slouched down into a boneless sitting position.

“Director?” Steve asked and took a quick look outside the window to make sure that no more snarly half-human half-fish people were running amok in the city.

Fury straightened his shoulders, which Steve didn’t think should be possible with how perfect his posture already was, and said, “Stand down. It isn’t a new attack that I’m here about. I’m here because I’ve called in a specialist to help us out.”

“A specialist?” Clint groaned and perched himself on the back of an armchair as if that was the most relaxing position to be in. It looked awful, but Steve had seen the man sleep hanging upside down from a ceiling fan, so he figured it was all about perspective.

Fury glared at the man but Clint didn’t even look phased. Finally Fury spoke. “Yes, a specialist.”

“A specialist on what?” Natasha asked, and she must have been more exhausted than she looked because she sounded irritated, and Steve hadn’t heard her ever say anything to the director in anything less than complete neutrality.

“Aliens?” Clint asked

“Chimeras popping out of splits in physics?” Tony suggested.

“Pests?” Thor boomed, putting in his two cents.

Tony waved off Thor’s suggestion, but was interrupted before he could say anything by the coolly clipped tones of the British ceiling butler. “Director Fury, I would like to inform you that your guest has arrived. What shall I do with him?”

Fury swipped a hand over his face and muttered something under his breath.

“Show him up, JARVIS,” Tony interpreted.

“Captain, with me please,” Fury stated, and walked out of the room and down the hall into a barely used conference room. Steve followed. He was tired, exhausted really, and couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, or even slept, but if Fury had something important to tell him, it was his job to listen. It could be very vital information, and he wouldn’t risk his teammates lives just so he could sit down and rest a little before whatever special guest they had coming showed up.

“Rogers,” Fury started, once they were in the room, “I’m putting you in charge of making sure none of those idiots in there push our guest’s limits. You are most diplomatic of them all. I might have considered Banner, but he’s currently the size of a hummer down in the subbasement, and you are this team’s leader. I’m going to give you the responsibility of making sure nothing goes crazy while he’s here. And protect the guy, ok? From what I hear he’s a pain in the ass to handle, but I don’t want SHIELD getting on his bad side, you hear?”

Steve saluted. He could do this. It wasn’t the first time he was put in charge of making sure his team didn’t kill some annoying s.o.b.

“Good,” Fury said in a dismissive tone and walked out of the room. He didn’t return to the common area but entered the elevator. It looked like it was all up to Steve then. No introductions or anything. Who was this guy if even Fury didn’t like to be in the same room as him?

Advancing on the door to the living room, Steve could hear the quiet murmur of polite conversation, and he sped up. He was supposed to be there to smooth any ruffled feathers. Why couldn’t Fury’s guest have been slower, waited until Steve was there to make introductions and play host? And then he swung open the doors, ready to apologize for being late, and saw, standing in the middle of the room, clear as day with his cleft chin and white suspenders, Captain Jack Harkness.

Jack was in the middle of introducing himself. His hand was stretched out towards Tony and he was looking Natasha up and down, admiring her assets. But when Steve opened the doors he turned, and upon seeing Steve there, frozen in all his Captain America glory, his mouth split into a blinding grin. “Steve Rogers!” he called out, ignoring everything around him, and strode over towards Steve who was still frozen by the door.

Steve, in an effort to just go with the flow (a talent he’d really had to learn since showing up 70 years in the future where everything from communication to dancehalls had changed), stepped farther into the room, but he couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping. Jack Harkness, last seen so many years ago, and here he was, in the flesh. Or maybe he was a descendant of Jack’s. Maybe Jack quit the army, got married and sired a litter of little, eyebrow-wriggling boys and girls, and this was a kid of one of them. He stared at the man’s face, trying to find some difference between his and Jack’s features. He couldn’t find a single one. The dimples were the same, as were the glittering eyes, his ragged hair, and that cleft chin. He even still wore those white suspenders Steve had thought of as his identifier from meeting number 2 forward.

Steve wanted to hug the man, talk to him, ask him how he was seeing him here. There was no way this was a hallucination, or a descendant, he just couldn’t bear the thought. And this Jack was just as lecherous. It had to be the same man.

And then Jack was upon him, and Steve was still frozen in shock, examining his face, and Jack wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders in a great, big, bear hug. The tension ebbed from Steve’s form. This was Jack. He opened his mouth to ask Jack how he was still alive, not looking a day older than the last time he’d seen him in the 1940s, and to laugh a little, because here was one of his friends! Alive! Not everyone was dead! And then one of Jack’s hands left Steve’s back and with a loud crack, affixed itself to Steve’s ass.

“Ugh!” Steve cried out in repulsion, and without even a second thought all his long days without sleep or food caught up to him and held back his common sense as his arm coiled back and sprung, hitting Jack Harkness directly on the jaw. How could Jack not see how much of an inappropriate time this was? Steve had just learned he was alive! And Jack had looked surprised enough for Steve to know that Jack had thought him dead as well. There must have been questions! Jack must have wanted to know how Steve had ended up in this time, and he must have known that Steve had the exact same questions! And even besides all this, there were monsters terrorizing New York all the time, and Jack was supposed to help with that. Could there have been no questions? No congratulations, you’re alive? No tears of happiness at how they had found each other again after everything that has passed? And Jack had immediately gone for the ass slap.

Steve was glad he’d punched Jack in the face. Jack had to learn sooner or later that there were some times when Steve was just not going to stand for that sort of behavior. If he’d been more caffeinated maybe, or had more self-control he would have held himself back, but he was glad he didn’t because Jack was a dick for not explaining immediately and could go eat a brick.

Steve stormed from the room and receded back to his own floor to cool his head. He knew Jack was going nowhere, and he could sort it all later. Or maybe Jack could find him and apologize. And then they could celebrate them both being alive.

Back in the common room Jack knelt on the floor, cradling his broken jaw. He could feel his bone shifting back into place, molding back together, and the muscles of his jaw reforming. Steve really hadn’t pulled his punch, and Jack did not even give a flying fuck, because STEVE-FUCKING-ROGERS was alive! Alive! Stevie the beautiful and loyal was alive! And it was so good to see his old friend again that he stayed kneeling on the ground far longer than he’d meant to, staring after Captain America.

“He can sure pack a punch,” Jack mumbled as he finally climbed to his feet and he twisted his chin this way and that, testing out his jaw.

“I’m surprised he didn’t break your jaw. That sounded pretty painful,” said the short blond one with the chiseled features and the sweet ass. Possibly Hawkeye, if the arrows strapped to his back were anything to go by.

The other blond one, big, wearing armor and a cape, furrowed his brow and said “I do not understand why you greeted my shield-brother in such a fashion. Is it the common greeting to lay hand on a fellow soldier’s behind? This is indeed a strange land.”

Jack chuckled and waved him off. Steve was angry at him now, but it would blow over. They used to argue all the time and they always made up, but Jack didn’t think Steve would ever talk to him again if he let his buff blond friend think smacking ass was the way to make friends.

The buxom red-head with eyes like steel thankfully broke the silence, as Jack wasn’t sure how to explain without explaining. “No Thor. That’s called sexual harassment and is actually punishable by law.” Jack imagined that if this was an old gangster movie she would have cracked her knuckles or revealed a sidearm, but all she did was glance his way with such ice that Jack knew Steve had made real friends here.

“You know,” said Iron man, evident in his bright red and gold metal suit, “I’m not sure you’ve quite got down how to not ruin your first introduction with a group of superheroes who could tear you into pieces.”

“But he hit me,” Jack whined and batted his eyes at the handsome, man inside the suit. He’d always known Peggy was off-limits, but maybe Steve wouldn’t mind Jack seducing one of his teammates?

Perhaps not, as none of them looked too happy with him at the moment, Iron man even less so, as he said, “That’s what happens when you try to defile a national monument. America’s butt is off limits. No touchie.”

Chapter Text

An alarm ringing through the building started going off almost as soon as Steve reached his room, and he looked out the windows to see some awful creatures actually trying to eat through the first floor of the Tower. No time to assemble the team, he decided as he pulled on his cowl and rushed from the room. They would know what to do. Now all he had to do was fight.

Stepping out into the asphalt, he immediately threw his shield into the face of a—was that a fish-headed, yellow-jumpsuit-wearing, creepy crawly? The shield knocked the thing out, hit another one who was aiming a strange weapon at the sky, at—actually, that was Thor flying above the city, leveling lightning at foes every which way—and ricocheted back into Steve’s outstretched hand. By that time, Iron man too was out in the sky, shooting repulsor blasts at fish people, and Clint was flinging arrows down into the rubble, and Natasha was ripping the monsters apart with such acrobatics that Steve wished she’d offer to spar with him more often. If he could learn a third of her tricks, the things he’d accomplish.

Steve stuck a comm in his ear, and punched a halibut in the gills. “Info now people,” he muttered, throwing his shield at a salmon who had a gun-thingy aimed at Clint.

“Looks like fish…” came Clint’s voice.

“They smell strange, friends. Not the smell of fish captured straight from the sea,” Thor shouted and Steve winced. Thor still had to be reminded that the comms let everyone hear him without him having to yell.

“So you might say it all smells a little…fishy?” Tony asked, and Steve threw his shield through a puffer fish that had its finny-hands wrapped around Iron Man’s ankles.

Natasha kicked his shield back to him, and he could see her lips pull down as she grimaced and said, “Jesus Christ, Stark. If I wanted puns in the workplace I wouldn’t have agreed to join SHIELD.”

“You know you love me,” and Tony made a smoochy noise that was wet and disgusting.

Natasha scoffed, and her red hair flared like a fan behind her as she lunged her feet towards a catfish with a canon.

The fish-people were going down easy. They obviously weren’t trained to fight against gods, and assassins, and a metal-man. They fought like civilians who were trained only the bare minimum on how to use their weapons. Really fishy civilians. But there were a lot of them.

“Ok. Interesting, people, but how do we put them down and keep them down.”

“That’s what I’m here for, sweet cheeks,” and god-damn if that wasn’t Jack on the comm.

“Jack Harkness. If you don’t do your job right this instant, I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

Jack scoffed. “No you wouldn’t,” but it did sound like he was working on something. Steve could hear the sound of metal sliding against metal, a soft hum of electricity, and even Jack sounded a little out of breath from running around perhaps.

“I might. It’s been a long time. I could be a different man.” Steve caught his shield and threw a punch at a grouper who was getting a little too handsy.

“No. You would never change, Stevie. Still Captain Americano. Still loyal, and just, and totally bang-able. How are you all of those things, by the way?”

“Jack! Not the time! I just knocked out a codfish and there’s a tilapia running at me, this takes precedent,” Steve kicked the legs of the tilapia out from under him and moved on. The fish were thinning out, and Steve finally caught a look at the Hulk rushing through the fish, knocking them left and right in a weird, sea-creature wake.

Tony grunted and said, “Jesus, you two can flirt later. Didn’t Fury hire you to help us out, Mr. America-Molester?”

Jack laughed, and it was the same laugh Steve had heard a million times next to him in a dingy bar. It was the laugh Jack choked out when Steve said something particularly cutting or witty, or when he’d accidentally made an innuendo and didn’t know it at first, and usually it led to Steve blushing all the way down to his boots.

“Did you know,” Steve asked, because he could either concentrate on the fish or occupy his mind on something other than the sea-life he was fighting, and he had definitely been accused of rambling before, “that Fury ran off before introducing you to us? I thought that maybe he was too busy, but I’m starting to think that you did something so bad that even Fury can’t stand to be around you.”

An arrow flew past Steve’s face and skewered a koi that had been sneaking up behind him. Clint’s voice filtered through the comm., “Captain, this really isn’t the time. We’ll beat up this bozo later. We’ve got bigger fish to fry now.”

Natasha flung a knife a little too close to Clint’s face. “I will kill you.”

“Shall we eat these creatures, then?” Thor asked

“No,” Steve said, at the same time that Jack said, “I kissed his mom.”

There was silence on the comms before Clint—it sounded like Clint—let out a strangled yelp.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” Steve groaned.

There was a pause, and what sounded like a wire being snapped before Jack whined, “It was before he was born.”

“Ok, you are definitely going to have to explain that.”

Jack let out a breath, and Steve took that time to wrestle a giant, metal, laser (?) gun from the finny hands of a snarling (slobbering? leaking?) salmon and just barely avoiding getting hit by a pink ray of energy as the finny hands found the trigger. The energy smelled a little like crab cakes and Steve wrinkled his nose. He liked crab cakes, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat any for a while.

There was a click as Jack switched the comm to a private line, just for the two of them. “Well,” Jack started again, and Steve had almost forgotten that he was waiting for an answer, “you remember that time with the gun and the bullet and the blood and my head?”

Steve grunted in agreement while he back-handed a grouper with a missing eye.

“The thing that lets me do that…thing, also makes it impossible for me to die. Ever. I don’t age, and I don’t die.”

There was a pause where Jack was obviously waiting for a reaction and wherein Steve was a little busy getting out of a tuna’s chokehold, but when he escaped, flipping the tuna over his head and knocking him out with a swift kick to the face, he let out a breathless “Ok…I think I can handle that.”

Jack chuckled. “That’s what you said last time.”

“Sweet of you to remember,” Steve let out confidently and pushed a halibut out of the way with his shield, “now how about—”

“No,” Jack interrupted, “I told you my side, now you have to tell me yours.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Uh, so, you know I went down, right?”

Steve could practically hear Jack’s grimace over the line. “You mean that really happened? I was kind of hoping that that was all a show, a hoax or something. So no time travel?”

Steve frowned. “No. My plane went down and I was frozen in ice for 70 years. Cryo-something, Tony said.”

“Why didn’t you visit me?” Jack whined, and Steve huffed.

“I thought you were dead. Obviously.”

Iron Man repulsored a grouper, and Steve punched a puffer fish, and then realized that they were surrounded by twitchy and groaning, unconscious fish-people.

There was another click indicating that Jack switched back to the Avengers line. “Well, that’s no excuse,” Jack whined, and Steve could make out the distinctive sound of feet on metal. Jack was running through the tower.

Iron Man landed next to Steve with a squishy thump and flipped up his face-plate. “What is going on, Cap? Who is this guy? Do you know him?”

“They call you Cap?” Jack asked, and Steve can tell he’s smiling just by the way they echo in his ear. “How quaint!”

“Yes,” Steve prevaricated, trying to read Tony’s emotions in his face, “I’ve known Jack for a few years?” He wasn’t sure why he ended that line with a question.

Tony slung gold-titanium-alloy plated arms over his chest and pouted, really honest-to-god pouted. “How many years?”

“Look up, Stevie!” Jack demanded, and Steve’s eyes rose upwards, only to see Jack Harkness hanging out of an open window 30 stories above him. Steve’s shoulders tensed.

“The fuck?” Tony asked, and Steve nodded in agreement.

“Hello, boys,” Jack said, and flung something out of the window, “would you mind catching that for me?”

Steve sighed and stuck his shield on his back. Trust Jack to just assume that Steve would do whatever he wanted. But then, of course he had to go prove Jack right by jumping up and catching the damn thing once it got near enough. It was a metal box that looked halfway like a briefcase, and halfway like a microwave.

“What’s this?” Steve asked, looking up at Jack.

“Hard to explain, and a little bit out of time, so best not to know in case the time police come after you,” there was laughter in his voice but Steve wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

Tony grabbed the contraption and started prodding at it. “What is this? I know tech, and this isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. What is—”

“Just place it in the middle of the area,” Jack directed, “and flip the yellow switch. Then maybe close your eyes, ‘cause the light’s going to be pretty bright.”

“Is this a bomb?” Steve asked, and quickly snatched the thing from Tony’s hands.

“Maybe,” Jack said slowly, “but don’t worry, it should only affect those who have arrived through a rip in space. Walking through these rips leaves tiny particles on the object, like an organic tracking system, and that can be used to see where the fish came from. And send them back. The molecular dystrophy transporting device, not a bomb really, will pick up on those particles, and will pull the fish-guys back into their own realm.”

“I don’t understand,” Tony said, and sounded genuinely disheartened. Steve had no doubt that had Tony been at his best, if he’d been able to get any amount of sleep or more food in the best 72 hours, he would be drilling Jack on all things science, but as it was, none of them were really in tip top shape.

Steve picked his way over groaning fish, deposited the not-bomb in the center of the fishy bodies, flipped the yellow switch, and backed away, covering his eyes as he went. There was no boom, but there was a resounding silence, like the moment after the crash of the sound barrier being broken, and intense light. And when Steve opened his eyes, the fish were all gone, leaving the streets of Manhattan smelling like the docks.

“Well, that’s my job done,” Jack said over the comms.

“Debriefing first, and I’d like to chat before you leave?” Steve asked, and stepped closer to Tony.

“Of course, Stevie. I’m waiting.”

Steve sighed and looked at Tony. “C’mon Tin Man, let’s go talk to the man of the hour, my oldest living friend, Captain Jack Harkness.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony grumbled, but followed after Steve regardless.

Chapter Text

“That’s how I got those cutie patooty fish sticks out of your hair. Now all I’ve got to do is close that rift in space, and everything can go back to normal.” Jack was standing in front of the assembled avengers in the common area. “I’ll let SHIELD know when the rift is mended.”

Tony had rid himself of the suit, and even Dr. Banner had come out to play, since that last fight would hopefully have been the last one ever, at least against fish. Natasha was twirling a deadly looking dagger between her fingers, but despite her intentions, Steve could see that it actually turned Jack on a little. The man had once confided in Steve that he liked a little danger in the bedroom. Of course he had also confided that with the rest of the bar, but that was beside the point.

Jack had just finished describing, in great detail, how the microwave-suitcase-not-bomb had worked. Honestly, Steve was hardly paying attention. He was tired, and he trusted Jack. If Jack said he was going to fix it, he was going to fix it. Steve didn’t need to know how.

On the other hand, Jack didn’t look so happy that no one seemed impressed at his very elaborate and fantastically difficult (probably not) machine.

“What is it with you guys? Have you been talking to my team back home? They’re never impressed either. I thought, when I got this gig, that I’d finally astound someone, but nooooo!”

“I’m more curious,” Clint said, from where he perched himself on the seatback of the armchair, “with how you and good ol’ Cap here know each other.”

Thor shifted in his seat, leaning forward as if that mere gesture would clue him into the answer to all of his questions. “I, too, would like to know how these two captains met, and without us knowing.”`

“Or SHIELD,” Natasha added, and glanced darkly at Steve. Steve would be miffed too if he were a super secret spy assassin working for a super secret organization and neither he nor the organization knew of any connection between Captain America and a timey-guy.

Yes, maybe Steve had been explaining Jack’s abilities by calling him a timey-guy in his head. Sue him.

“And you said you’ve known him for years,” Tony interjected, giving Steve a dirty look, “You haven’t even been out of the ice long enough for that to be a viable amount of time.”

Jack pasted a smarmy grin on his face, the one Steve interpreted as the more polite version of sticking out his tongue. “You mean dear old Stevie hasn’t talked about me? Not once?” He gave Steve a caricature of a frown, “Don’t you love me anymore, Stevie-bear? Or should I call you Cap?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Jack, shut up. Don’t pretend to be hurt about this. It’s not like you go around proclaiming that you used to be best buds with Captain America himself.”

Jack gasped comically. “You consider us best buds? Stevie, I didn’t know!”

Steve ignored the man-child and turned to his comrades. “I apologize for him. If you want to kick him out, I’d be behind that.”

Bruce, the only one who looked to be following this conversation at all, despite also being the one who had missed most of the background, having been the Hulk for the past few hours, said, “I’m not sure kicking him out should be our first plan, though if we all agree to it later, I’m sure it can be arranged. But first, how about you introduce us?”

Steve blushed, ashamed that he’d been caught out not being a good host. He stood, and stepped into place next to Jack. “Guys? This is Captain Jack Harkness. We fought in the war together.”

“Bullshit!” Tony called from where he lounged on the couch, his eyebrows narrowed, looking at Jack as if he were a puzzle to be solved.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, “that’s bullshit.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “Really now?”

“We never fought together. We just happened to be fighting the same war, occasionally near each other.”

“Semantics,” Steve groaned.

“Why haven’t we heard of him?” Bruce asked.

“‘Cause he was a little dick. And he wasn’t a howling commando. He’s right, we didn’t fight side by side. I actually don’t even know who he fought for.”

Jack looked at Steve as a parent might look at her child at their graduation. “My boy’s all grown up. Calling me a dick. Back when we met he could barely say the word ass. I’m so proud.”

“And now he’s going to evade that question, like he did all the others, forever.” Steve explained.

“Ok,” Natasha said slowly, tucking the dagger back into her boot, “let’s say I believe you. Jack Harkness fought with you in the war. That was seventy odd years ago, how is he still alive.”

Jack looked at Steve but Steve backed up a step. “No, this is all on you. You’re a nice fella, but Natasha means business and I don’t know enough information to satisfy her.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Fine. Short story, I can’t die.”

“I don’t believe you,” Natasha said.

Clint shook his head. “Me neither. Wanna know why? ‘Cause that’s crazy talk, no one is immortal.”

Jack shrugged. “I am.”

“Prove it!” Tony challenged from across the room, and then sat back, looking way too satisfied with himself.

Jack pushed his jacket back, and made to pull his pistol from his holster, but Steve staid his hand. “No. No, no, no. No. I’ve seen a bullet go clean through his skull, and then have him apologize about it in the next minute. I promise, he can’t die.”

Natasha grumbled in disappointment, but didn’t insist.

“I still don’t trust him,” Tony groused.

“You don’t have to,” Steve said, trying to keep himself from sticking out his tongue at the man, “I do.”

Tony huffed and got to his feet. “Fine, whatever. You’ll hole in the universe, or whatever, right? Good. Then my part is done. If anyone wants me I’ll be in my workshop.” He strode purposefully towards the elevator and soon he was out of sight.

“You will fix the…thing, right?” Steve asked.

“Of course. But, I’ll do it back at my base.”

“In Wales?” Bruce asked, and Jack nodded.

“You’re leaving already?” Steve couldn’t keep a note of sadness from entering his voice. He’d just gotten one of his friends back. He knew it wasn’t his right to demand Jack stay, or to cry and moan about it, but it wasn’t fair that the man was leaving so soon.

Jack cocked his hip out and smirked. “Yes, I’ve got to leave soon, but I think I can make time for one last drink. Is there a good bar around here?”

Steve nodded, then looked at the rest of his teammates. “Are you all good with me heading out for an hour or two?”

Natasha did not roll her eyes. She decidedly did not roll her eyes. She did not roll her eyes so hard that Steve had to hold back a wince. “We aren’t children, Cap. If we need you we’ll call.”

“Yeah!” Clint said flippantly and stepped down from his perch, “Go out for a night on the town!”

“But you might want to change into something nicer?” Bruce counseled.

Steve looked down at his dirty and torn suit.

“I think it’s a good look,” Jack said with a lecherous expression and a wink.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ll meet you out front in ten.”

***

Sitting on a barstool, nursing a Jack Daniels and Coke with Captain Jack sitting beside him, Steve could almost imagine that nothing had changed. His mind could pretend that the war was still going on, HD TVs were 70 years away, and that Peggy and Bucky were waiting back at camp for him to get off leave. But then Jack pulled out his touch phone and to answer a text, and Steve glanced up to see a football game playing in high-def on a screen in the corner of the ceiling, and he was reminded of what year it really was.

But with Jack it was hard to remember, because everything was the same with him. It wasn’t hard. They both just slipped seamlessly back into their friendship, no bumps at all.

Except when he had hit Jack, but that was beside the point.

“I’m going to miss you,” Steve said softly.

Jack put down his Sex on the Beach and gave Steve an appraising look. “Stevie, don’t look so down.”

Steve looked away, but Jack didn’t let him stay moping. He grabbed Steve’s chin and forced Steve to look at him. (Or, at least insisted, because Steve could lift a bus, Jack Harkness wouldn’t have been able to have moved him if he didn’t want to let him.)

“Stevie, it isn’t forever. I don’t know how long you’ve been on ice, but nowadays we have these spectacular types of telephones that are completely mobile. And, we can send text messages and emails and whatever online thing the kids use nowadays. This goodbye isn’t forever. It isn’t even for long! We can visit whenever. And talk. Write to each other. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but let a smile leak out. “I guess you’re right. I just can’t help thinking about the last time—when I went down in the water.”

Jack didn’t interrupt, and he even attempted to have a serious expression, which Steve appreciated.

“I kept thinking that Peg would know I was gone, because she was the one I was talking to, and that she’d tell the commandos, and whoever else in the SSR, but that no one would know to tell you.” Steve grimaced. “I can’t imagine how awful it must’ve been, finding out through the newspapers, or something.”

Jack’s smile was weak, but genuine. “It wasn’t too bad. I mean, don’t get me wrong, losing you was horrible, but… I’m not sure what to say actually. I guess what I’m trying to get at is: Don’t feel bad about dying?”

Steve chuckled. “Thanks.” And then a quick pause before saying, “Ditto.”

Jack smiled, but a ping from his phone had him dragging his focus down to the little square of technology. He sighed. “Sorry, Stevie, it looks like I actually have to get going.”

Steve stood and threw some bills onto the bar to pay for his and Jack’s drink. “Let me walk you out?”

Jack shrugged and they made their way out of the door. It had become night as they’d talked, and now the heavy darkness seemed to embrace them. Steve looked up, almost on instinct, to look at the stars, but he couldn’t see them. He never could anymore, something called light pollution, Tony called it. But that was ok.

“So, uh,” Jack started, and Steve smirked at seeing how nervous Jack could get just about saying goodbye, but then Jack pulled it around and asked, “You think you could hook me up with one of the Avengers?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Both for their safety and for yours, I’m going to say no.”

“What about Iron Man? He seems funny enough. Rich, and attractive. What could possibly be the problem?”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“Psshaw!” Jack said playfully. “Well, then, what about the Black Widow.”

“She’d skin you alive.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “Very probably true. Hawkeye?”

“Natasha would skin you alive.”

Jack waggled his eyebrows. “Is there something going on there?”

Steve sighed. “I’m going to say yes, just so you’ll drop it.”

“Thor.”

“Has a girlfriend.”

Jack threw his hands in the air, “What’s with all these girlfriends? Jesus! Well what about Dr. Banner. He seemed like a nice sort.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, and Jack answered for him.

“Right, turns into the Hulk when he’s angry.”

“And everyone’s always angry at you for something,” Steve said with a smile.

Jack laughed. “I guess I’m just stuck with you, then. Text me sometime, will ya?”

Steve nodded. “Of course. Once I can figure out how to use these new-fangled doo-hickeys.”

Jack gave a two-fingered salute and turned left, but as he stepped away one of his hands slapped Steve’s ass and Steve’s head whipped round to look at Jack. Jack was already hurrying down the road, laughing loud enough for Steve to hear him.

Steve shook his fist in the air in faux-anger. He would miss Jack. Probably.

“JACK HARKNESS! Damn you!”