Work Text:
Steve hummed along to the jazz music, paintbrush moving over the canvas in gentle strokes as the lake took more form with every inch of color, from outside the windows the sounds of early evening life in the quarter had him smile. Tourists laughing in the little restaurants, the locals on their way back home from work and errands.
God, he loved the city, loved the beauty and the music. Loved the culture and the people. In his heart, he would always remain a Brooklyn boy, would never forget where he had come from, but New Orleans...New Orleans was his new life. His muse. And a sanctuary, the people here didn't see in him the person he had been, they only saw the man he was now. No one. Just someone living his life among them, a part of them.
A part of New Orleans.
A breeze made it's way past the yellow colored curtains in front of the open windows, bringing with itself the smell of wine and gumbo. It almost made him hungry already and he thought about stopping by Celeste on his way home later, but for now he remained focused on the painting in front of him. Up in the private drawing up above the gallery. His gallery.
The buzzing of a phone snapped him out of his creative buzz, and his eyes blinked at the red phone on the coutner next to him. His stomach turned itself into a knot when he thought about the reason why he had brought it this morning, why he had longed for the distraction of work today. Number unknown, but then again, that was the case with most calls nowadays, there were only a hand full of numbers saved into his private phone and most of those people he saw on a daily basis.
“Hello?” He took the call after grabbing it, setting the paintbrush and color palette down on the little table, free hand twisting itself into the fabric of the old shirt he was wearing for painting.
“Fuck these burner phones, we need to invest in something real again.” Steve sighed out in relief and then smiled upon Sam’s kind of greeting.
“I take it the battle is over and was successful.” He concluded, cocking his head to the side when the blue on the canvas looked too light suddenly, his brain mapping out a plan to balance that out again while Sam made that small adorable huffing noise.
“No one shot at me, no one kicked me off roofs, no one ripped off my wings. Bad guys zero, Wilson a zillion.” Sam answered and then grumbled when the background erupted in angry muttering that the burner phone didn’t project good enough for Steve to make out real words, he thought he could hear Bucky though, “Buck says hi, but he is too busy pulling scales out of his arm to talk right now.”
That brought Steve up short and he raised his eyebrows at the lake image in front of him, “Scales?…No wait, I don’t want to know. I really don’t want to know.”
“Giant flying dinosaurs, man. Didn’t you watch us on TV? Steve, love, you wound me, my first big gig and you didn’t moon over my gorgeous ass?” Sam whined and teased at the same time and Steve snorted, grabbing the photograph of his client again.
“Too busy. Wasn’t exactly going to skip baby yoga to watch you swing that gorgeous behind of yours up into the air. And I’ve got paintings to finish, the gallery opens next week.” He explained and then looked over his shoulder when the sound of gurgling and happy babbling started up louder again.
“How is Riley?” Sam wanted to know, maybe a little worried, it had been the first time he had gone out after all, the first time he had left them behind for a job that could very well get dangerous very fast. But the world had needed him.
In the playpen, wearing that cute blue onesie that Darlene had brought the last time she had come down to visit, the one with the Harlem slogan that had Sam in hysterics for minutes. Riley played on undisturbed, babbling to his toys.
“Charming all the ladies as always.” Steve smiled and then grinned when the chubby little baby boy grinned up at him from the playpen, thumping the dog plushie onto the ground with his tiny hand. He looked so much like Sam, from the shape and color of his eyes to the way his lips curled into that breathtaking smile, to the softness of his skin to the beauty of his thick curls.
“That’s my little man. Listen, Stark wants a debrief…and probably about three thousand explanations for me turning up…with those new features, so I think you’re on your own with baby swimming tonight. That alright?” Sam asked, a little concern swinging along his voice, Steve smiled.
“Take your time, Sam, we’ll be fine. Don’t rush it. Throw Tony at T’Challa when it comes to the tech talk and then sneak out and come home. I’ve got plans for you, and me, and the night.” Steve chuckled and there was a deep groan on the other side of the line, having him smirk in response and turn back to his painting, he had another two hours of good light in the backyard, “Come home to me, Captain America.”
"About that, beautiful husband-of-mine." Sam began and then the background noise vanished, Steve suspected he had left the room or went into another one, "Stark needs you. And hear me out before you say anything, you know I am so so happy with you staying out of the danger and away from all of it. That the worst we had to face since this whole chaos started was that fucking shark in our garden, but...I think Bucky is in way over his head with all this needed Hydra expertise."
"Then why didn't he say something?" Steve asked and dragged a hand over his face, muffling a curse when he remembered the spot of blue color that had been dropped on it earlier, and was now probably plastered all over his face. Perfect.
"You know him, he wouldn't say a damn thing if it means you stay far away and safe with Riley at home. But I'm worried, T'Challa is, too. I'm not calling you to fight, Steve, I never would, but the Avengers could use that briliant head of yours." Sam explained and Steve sighed, "And I would honestly feel better with you here as well. It's Hydra, babe, only a matter of time until they start looking for the super-soldier no one knows anything about anymore."
"Is that an order, Captain America?" Steve chuckled out and set the canvas to the side with one look at the clock on the wall.
"I am getting real used to you calling me that, but no, it's not. It's your husband being worried for your safety and the safety of our son. And I really miss you." Sam reached for the ultimate weapon, "Think about it? During baby swimming?"
"Alright, I'll think about it. Go to your debrief now, don't keep them waiting. I'll call you later again. I love you, Sam." Steve said softly in the end, smiling at their wedding picture on the bookshelf in the corner.
"I love you, too, Steve." Sam replied and then cut the call, Steve turned towards Riley again.
"So, munchkin, time to get cleaned up, the pool is calling your name." He announced and Riley giggled, reaching up two arms and making grabby hands at him, Steve grinned and pulled him out of the playpen and into his arms, "And maybe we'll make a little journey after that. Daddy misses us, and you know I can't say no to him for long."