Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

No. 562
Blanket measures 36 x 50 inches.
Materials:
Beehive Non-Shrink Baby Wool, 3 ply, 18 balls (1oz. Balls) of White and 7 balls of baby blue.
Knitting Pins, 1 Pair No. 3 (3mm size)

Steve Rogers sat at the kitchen table, feet not quite brushing the floor, huffing over a bowl of steaming water.  Sarah Rogers took a tea towel and draped it over his head to trap more of the wet air and rubbed her boy’s back between the shoulder blades.

“I-I just wanted,” he gulped.

“Shh,” she told him.  “I know.  I’m sorry, sweetheart.”  She wished there was something more she could do.  Sometimes she felt like it must have been her own fault, her own weak constitution that kept her son from playing out with the other boys.

Once his breathing was back under control, Sarah scooped him up and retreated to her bed, the two of them curled up against each other.  She pulled out her knitting and gave Steve some scrap paper that she brought home from the ward to draw on.

Instead of filling the paper with flights of fancy like he usually did, he just watched her needles ticking back and forth.  “What are you making now?”

“Mrs. O’Dea in 203 is expecting.  I thought it would be nice to make her a blanket for the little one.”  He watched her for a little longer.  “Steve?  Would you like to try?”

He wrinkled his nose.  “Girls knit.”

Sarah bit down a smile.  “Girls knit, but boys can too.  Your father knew how to knit.”

He looked up at her in surprise,  “Really?”

“Really.  He told me that a lot of the men in the 107th knit when he was in the war.  He said that especially when men were hurt or sick, they’d knit to keep busy, and so they’d still be useful.  Knitting made sure that everybody could help.”

She finished a row and turned the knitting.  Making her voice deliberately casual she said, “So… do you want to help?”

A host of expressions played over his face.  Uncertainty, frustration, curiosity, and pure Irish pigheadedness.  “Yes.”

“All right then.  Here, you hold these.”  She put the needles in his hands and looped an arm around his shoulders so she could guide him.  “Okay, you hold your yarn here, and loop it over the right needle like so, then pull…
In through the front door
Around the back
Out through the window
And off jumps Jack.”

She guided his hands once more, using the needle to pull one loop of yarn through another.  Then let him do it on his own, ready to jump in and correct if he needed it.  But of course her Steve didn’t need it.  He hesitated a little, repeated the rhyme under his breath, but didn’t go wrong.  So clever, her boy.

He got through a few rows and frowned at it.  “Ma, it looks all lumpy, not like yours.”

“The more you practice the more even you’ll be.”

“And Mrs. O’Dea will like it?  Even if it’s lumpy?”

“Mrs. O’Dea will love it.  Especially if she finds out you helped.  Even if it’s lumpy it will be special because you made it with love.”  

Steve nestled a little closer into her side.  “Well, that’s good then.”

“Yes,” she said, and dropped a kiss on his forehead, “That’s good.”

Chapter Text

Wear-Forever Socks with Replaceable Toe and Heel

What you need:
Beehive Non-shrink Sock Wool
For Regulation Length Socks: 3 skeins
Royal Society Plastic Sock Needles No.1


“I bet you miss those cushy stateside tours now, eh, Steve?”  Gabe said as he turned up his collar and hunched down against a scraggly pine tree.   They were on reconnaissance up in the Julian Alps, where it snowed all day long, even though the wind swept it away as soon as it landed. 

Steve shrugged, “It’s not like it’d be any warmer in Brooklyn.”  He stifled a grin, “California was nice though. I got to go there once.  Warm, real palm trees, you didn’t even need a heavy coat.”

“Don’t even TALK about California,” Jim moaned as he set up his radio.  “When they said Italy I was thinking beaches, not mountains.”

On Steve’s other side Bucky was going through his pack for clean…and more importantly dry… socks.  “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a hole in my lucky socks,” Bucky said, wriggling a finger through the hole in the toe. 

Jim raised an eyebrow, “Lucky socks?  Are you serious?” he snorted at the same time that Steve reached for them.

“Hey, are these the ones that I ma…”  He trailed off when he noticed the rest of the team staring at him.  “What?”

“No no, go on,  that you what?” Falsworth said with a magnanimous wave of his hand.

Steve could feel the back of his neck going hot.  But he took the socks.  “My mom taught me to knit,” he fixed his best ‘you wanna make something of it’ glare on them, which worked a hell of a lot better now than it did back in New York. Well, except on Dum Dum.  Steve didn’t think anything worked on Dum Dum.

Bucky laughed, and for a moment some of the exhaustion faded from his eyes.  “Relax bud, nothing you’ve got to prove here.”

Steve turned his attention back to the socks, more for the sake of the smile than anything else.  Plain khaki brown, ribbed at the top, with a tiny line of red at the heel and toe.  He’d started them as soon as Bucky started basic training.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t made other things for him, but you couldn’t take scarves or mittens with you in your kit.  Socks were fine though, as long as you made them in regulation colors. And it’d made Steve feel a little better that at least something he’d had a hand in was staying with Bucky.

He looked over the socks and found where the heel was so worn it was practically see through, where Bucky had used plain cotton thread to try and close up a hole.  These were socks that saw some use.  “I’m pretty sure I could fix these,” he said instead of any of the dozen other things floating in his head.

“Really?”

Steve dug around in his pack, underneath his sketchbook and pulled out a small ball of navy yarn with four plastic needles.  “It won’t match, but no one will see.”

"I can't believe you're carrying that around with you," Gabe said.

"You play an imaginary trumpet while we're stuck somewhere, at least the Captain's little eccentricity is useful," Falsworth replied.

Steve just went to work unraveling the sock toe so he could re-knit it in the navy.  Bucky ruffled his hair, "Thanks." 

Steve felt his neck going hot again, and ducked his head, with Bucky's fingers still tangled in his hair.  For a moment it felt just like normal between the two of them.  Back like it was before.   Warmth curled up in his stomach.  But before he could say something potentially sappy Dum Dum shoved his foot in his face. 

"When you're done with those, can you get these too?

"Ugh!  Get those outta my face!" Bucky slapped the toes out of the way.  "Steve! Make 'em stop!" And the rest of the commandos laughed.

Steve grinned. 

On the other hand, the new normal was good too.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Classic World War II Watch Cap
Yarn weight: Aran / Worsted
Needle size: US 7 - 4.5 mm
Yardage: 180 - 190 yards (165 - 174 m)

SHIELD gave him a tiny phone with a “GPS” so he wouldn’t get too lost, and let him out into the city.  From the sour looks on the agent's face, Steve guessed that he’d expected him to be a lot more impressed by the little black bar than he was.  But honestly, it looked almost exactly like the transmitter Peggy handed him all those mont—years ago when he went after Bucky, only shinier.  

And it was just about as useful.  Steve much preferred wandering through neighborhoods, committing the streets to memory, figuring out what was the same and what was different. It was like something out of a dream.  One minute he’d be walking down a street of brownstones that he KNEW, then he’d turn the corner and see a big glass cube with an apple on it, or the construction on the new skyscraper, and be all screwed up again.  But he was always able to find his way back to base.

He was wandering down Broome St when bright colors in a shop window caught his eye.  It was all yarn.  Red, blue, orange, pink, all jammed in a wall of cubbyholes.

Steve found himself walking in before he even finished thinking about it.  He had plenty of down time while SHEILD try and figure out what to do with him.  Why not?

“Hi, welcome to our shop.  Anything I can help you find, or are you here on an errand from your girlfriend?”   There was a middle aged blonde woman behind the counter that was watching him with an appraising look that reminded him a lot of the USO girls.  She saw his panic and her smile went slightly crooked.  “Errand from your boyfriend?”

“Uh!” Steve squeaked.  “No, just…just looking.”

“Ok, well let me know if you’ve got any questions.  The yarns are all divided by fiber type, and the information is on the cubby cards.”

“Uh, thanks,” Steve said quickly and went to one of the bookshelves to look at the pattern books.

That wasn’t much less confusing.  The ‘Knits Men Want’ book was nineteen dollars.  Dollars!  The old Beehive book that Steve had had growing up had been twenty five cents.  

And then there was the yarn.  He wasn’t an idiot, he knew the difference between fingering and worsted weight.  But now there was Lace, Sport, DK, Aran, Bulky, Super Bulky.  And what was superwash?  Was that the same thing as Non-Shrink? And what the hell was an alpaca? Or a merino?  

The woman sensed his confusion the way women seemed to do around him.  “Are you sure I can’t help you?” She asked.  “I mean, I don’t want to bug you, but you look a little lost.”

“I just…” Steve gestured at the wall, “This was a little more than I was expecting. I know how to knit, but…”  

He hoped he wasn’t acting too strange.  The SHEILD agent that gave him the phone had warned him not to stand out too badly.  But Fury told him there wasn’t much he could do in New York that would cause alarm.  Well, he'd actually said that no one would give a flying fuck, but the sentiment was the same.

But the woman just nodded wisely.  “You’re used to that box-store crap. I understand.”  She patted his hand in a way that was more comforting than predatory.  “So let’s start at the beginning.  What do you want to make?”

“I was thinking…a hat?”

“Do you need a pattern?”

Steve thought of the nineteen dollar book and shook his head, “I’m pretty sure I can do a watch cap from memory.”

She helped him pick out a set of double points.  Steve didn’t think he was ready to try learning ‘Magic Loop.’  And she gave him a look when he reached for the cheap acrylic yarn.

“Listen, I don’t want to be one of those shop owners, and if you like Berroco Comfort, I won’t say another word, it's a perfectly nice yarn.  But if you haven’t tried any of the good yarns, you really owe it to yourself to give it a shot.”

Which is how Steve found himself buying a skein of outrageously expensive merino/alpaca blend in a shade of blue that the shopkeeper insisted would bring out his eyes.  

She hummed a little to herself while she rang him up.  “Oh, hey, before you leave, you know about Ravelry, right?”

“What?”

“Oh!  Come here, come here, I’ll show you on the shop computer.  It’s the best website for knitters.  Join up and you can find any pattern you want…usually for free, and get advice… it’s the best thing.”

And it was.  

As she showed him all the patterns he could pull up, Steve’s eyes almost glazed over.  Some of these were way more than just plain sweaters, or scarves.  There was real art here.

“And they even have a mobile version for the iphone, starkphone and android.”

Steve pulled out the little black brick.  “You mean like this?”

“Yes, exactly.  Here I’ll show you.”

It turned out that you could do a whole lot more with that little brick than just make a phone call to HQ.  Now the SHIELD agent’s miffed expression made a little more sense.  


***

“You know, when we we gave you that thing we couldn’t even get you to use it, and now we can’t get you to turn it off.”  Fury grumbled.

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve said, not taking his eyes off the little screen.  “I just wanted to add this sweater to my queue.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Chapter Text

Preppy Tie

YARN: 
regIa SILK, 1.75oz/50g balls each approx 220yd/200m (55% wool, 20% silk, 25% polyamide)

1 ball #32 Burgundy (A)
1 ball #02 natural (B)
1 ball #91 grey (C)
KNITTING NEEDLES:  
1 pair size 1 (2.25mm) knitting needles or any size to obtain correct gauge
NOTIONS
:  Stitch holders; Yarn needle


Steve wasn't completely unfamiliar with hero worshipers.  There were plenty of kids at the Bond Drive Tours, or that woman who cornered him in the bookshelves back on base that one time.  But it was a little unnerving to run into a grown man that had trading cards.  Steve really didn't know how to handle that.

But Stark respected Agent Coulson, and you didn't have to work with Stark for very long to know that he didn't respect a whole lot of people.  

And then there was the way he faced down Loki all on his own.  You had to admire that kind of gumption.

Steve had to hold Stark back to keep him from punching Colonel Fury in the face, when they found out Agent Coulson was still alive.  Natasha did the same for Clint, but the look in her eyes promised that there would be payback later.  Steve would have rather taken the hit up front.   

Really, it was a bum rap that Fury messed with Coulson's trading cards... even if they were kind of creepy.  When Stark told him about it at the hospital, Steve thought the agent was going to cry.

That might have been the morphine though.  Steve didn't think Coulson was the type to use a whole lot of facial expressions normally. 

And even though it wasn't Steve's fault that Fury was a manipulative son of a gun, he still felt strangely guilty about it.

Which was what led him to sitting in the hospital hallway scrolling through Ravelry to try and find a good 'get well soon' project he could knit as a gift.

It was strange to see how many Captain America knitting projects there were.  He thought maybe knitting something patriotic would be good, considering what got ruined.  But as soon as he put 'America' into the search engine he found a baby blanket patterned like his shield, and a shield hat.  A sweater that looked like his uniform.  Some kind of cozy to put on a golf club that looked like his head.  Toy versions of him.  And...gosh, was that underwear? 

Steve swiped the screen back as fast as he could.  That was... he didn't think he'd need to filter out the adult projects looking up himself for Pete's sake.   

“I didn’t figure you for an early adopter, Rogers.”  Steve looked up to see Stark coming out of Coulson’s hospital room and slinging himself into one of the other uncomfortable plastic chairs that lined the hall.  “So what does Captain America play?  Where’s the Water?  Angry Birds?  Cupcake Avalanche?”

“Huh?”

“Not a gamer then.”  Stark arched an amused eyebrow.  “News feeds.  No, no.  Netflix?  No?  I’ve got it, Fitocracy!”

Steve just blinked at him.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.  Is that supposed to be English?”

“Just trying to figure out what a guy from the Forties finds so fascinating on his phone.”  Stark said.  He was practically vibrating.  Twitchier than Bucky after the Howling Commandos had discovered espresso when they were in Italy.  

“Nothing.”  Steve said quickly.  

Oh God, the last thing he needed was for Stark to find out about the knitting.  It wasn’t that he was ashamed or anything.  But anyone who’d literally take an electric shock to the Hulk was never going to let something like that lie.

But Stark was fast, and he’d already plucked the phone from Steve’s hand.  

“Hey!”

“Relax, Futurama, I’m good with these things.  Oh hey, it’s Ravelry.  Didn’t figure you for a Stitchen Bitcher.”

Steve’s protests died in his throat.  “I…you know what Ravelry is?”

“My Pepper crochets.  She made me donate a server so they could upgrade power searching.  Captain America patterns?  Didn’t anyone teach you not to google yourself?”

“I -“

“Hey, did you see these?”  Stark cleared the search and typed in ‘Iron Man.’  The screen filled with red and gold fingerless gloves with crocheted repulsors, hats with full on face masks.  And even a baby sweater.  

Steve squinted at one of the projects.  “Did they use glow in the dark yarn?”

“They have that?”

“Beats me.”

He drummed his fingers on the plastic phone case.  “So, looking for a new project now that you’ve saved New York?  Today the world tomorrow an afghan?”

“I thought I’d make a get well present for Agent Coulson.”

Stark blinked at him.  “And you thought you’d make him something Captain America themed?  That’s a little…”

“I know!  I know!  But, I only met the guy the day we went after Loki and… that’s the only thing I know that he liked!”  He looked over at Tony.  “Hey, you knew the guy.  What does he like?”

Stark looked a little bewildered.  “I… I’m so not the right person to ask that.  Pepper would know.  Cellos maybe?”

Searching the Patterns for ‘cello’ didn’t bring up any pattern hits.  There was a washcloth with a musical note on it but that didn’t seem quite right either.  Violin brought up a pair of socks that had violins knit into them.  Stark suggested that he could modify the pattern, but Steve didn’t think he was quite up to that yet.

The two men looked at each other.  “I could ask Natasha or Clint?” Steve said hesitantly.  “Or you could ask Pepper?”

Star-Tony gave him a look.  “And then they would kill us for not knowing better, and by us I mean me.”

The two of them hunched over Steve’s Starkphone, scrolling through all kinds of patterns, trying to find something, anything appropriate.  

Finally Steve said, “Ties are nice?”

“Yeah, ties are good, sure.”


***

“Welcome back, Agent Coulson, it’s good to see you.”  Maria smiled.

He smiled lightly.  “Good to be back.”

She reached over and tugged on his tie.  “Adding a little fashion into your wardrobe?  I didn’t think knit ties were your style.”

“TLC may have run a marathon of ‘What Not to Wear’ while I was on leave.”

“Good to know that you got something out of your downtime.” Maria laughed.

Phil smoothed the navy tie back down in place.  He thought of the tiny white star on the reverse side and smiled.

“I suppose I did.”

Chapter Text

Urban Aran Cardigan

Yarn Needed: Bulky / 12 Ply (7wpi)
Needle Size: US 10 - 6.0 mm
US 10½ - 6.5 mm
US 9 - 5.5 mm

“No Tony.”

“But you knit a sweater for Nat.”

They’d only been together a few months, and most of the time Steve counted himself lucky.  Tony was smart and clever and intense.  And usually when he focused that intensity on a goal it was a good thing.

Usually.

“At first I thought you knit one for her because she’s tiny, but then you knit one for Bruce.  For Bruce!”

“Ribbing has a lot more stretch in it than people think it does,” Steve said mildly, turning the page of his book.  

“You knit everyone sweaters for Christmas but me!”  Tony flung himself into the overstuffed chair across from Steve.

“I knit for you.”  And he had.  A Steven West shawl-scarf that not many men could pull off without looking ridiculous, but on Tony it looked like the epitome of high fashion.  Not that Tony hardly ever wore it.  Which at least gave him a better excuse.  “You never use any of the knits I made you before.”

“What?  I so do!”  Tony looks honestly bewildered.  “Is this about the scarf thing? Because I’ve been in California the last week and it’s in the 70s there, and you really can’t blame me.”

He pouted at Steve.  “The socks were not my fault.  Wool is supposed to be self extinguishing.”  Before Steve could even parse that sentence he continued.  “But I wear my willie warmer all the time.”

“What did you do to the so— wait, willie warmer? What?”

Tony shrugged.  “The little tube thingy?

“T-Tony!  That was a coffee cup cozy!”

Tony only raised an eyebrow.  “Huh.  Well, it is kinda loose, I just thought you were being ambitious, you know, since we hadn’t started doing it yet, It was almost intimidating.”  He saw Steve’s horrified look.  “What?  You made it in cashmere, what was I supposed to think?”

“I can’t believe you.”  But Steve couldn’t keep the humor out of his voice.  Because he could believe it.  It was Tony all over.  And what’s more, he could imagine it… “What’s it like?”

Tony leaned forward, a filthy grin on his face.  “Warm.  Soft.  So soft.  And every time I move I can feel it slide against me.”

Steve swallowed, and put down his book.

“And I know that you made it,” Tony continued, voice dropping even further.  “And I think of you.  I have it on now, If you want to give it a go.”

Steve licked his lips.  Tony stood and leaned over the coffee table, closing the distance between them with a kiss.  Steve reached up and pushed his fingers into Tony’s hair, deepening it and...

Tony pulled back.  “Hey!  You’re trying to distract me.  Distract me from my sweater.”

He wasn’t.  But he would have if he’d thought about it.

“Tony,” he sighed.  “I can’t.  Not now.  A sweater is…”

“A sweater is what?  It’s yarn!”

“It’s important!”

Tony sighed, and shook out his shoulders.  “Ok, rewind, backup, start over.”  He pushed Steve back into the sofa, and arranged himself to the side with his legs slung up across Steve’s lap.  “I just wanted to pull you chain, I didn’t want to pick an actual fight. “  Steve just looked at him for a long, silent, measuring moment.  Tony let out a huff, “Ok yes, and I want a sweater, but I didn’t think it was a big deal! So sue me!”

“You’re going to laugh,”  Steve said, hunching his shoulders.  “I know it’s stupid.  But… there’s a curse.”

Tony looked utterly blank.  “A… excuse me? What?”  

“I swear to God, I’m not making this up.  I read all about it on Ravelry.  They say the minute you make your boyfriend a sweater he breaks up with you!  There are whole threads on the boards about it.  There’s even a wiki page!”

“Now Steve, we’ve talked about believing everything you read on Wikipedia.”

Steve said, “Listen, I know it’s stupid but…” He tucked a bit of Tony’s mussed hair back behind his ear.  “I don’t want to risk it.”

“You say the sweetest yet most infuriating things.  No sweater?”

“No sweater.”

“Because of some kind of special knitting magic.”

“Yep.”

“I fucking hate magic.”