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Chapter Text

Sleep had been a fleeting gift since he moved out of the Tower, but considering how much time he'd spent frozen at the bottom of the sea, he didn't see it as a problem (at least not one as big as the government funded scientists looking for an excuse to cut him open.)

He was still a fully functional supersoldier capable of following orders but they were determined to find a flaw or misstep so they could loot him for blood and parts.

He shook out of his thoughts, throwing back the covers and giving up on sleep and heading out for a pre-run meal.

He checked his pockets for cash and found the cards instead, absently thinking of the bullet points in his New Century Tutorial from his acclimation lessons.  Banks were safe now, money lived in phones and plastic cards.  New Century.  Sure.

Nat, Clint and Happy warned him about parking his motorcycle on the street because 'it's Jersey, Steve', but he wasn't going to pay for storage or take a train if he needed to get somewhere in a hurry.  He could be scary if he needed to and nobody would dare fuck with his bike.

(Tony would probably say he was baiting assholes just so he could punch some people without needing government oversight but Tony wasn't talking to him anymore.)

Wallet, sneakers, stairs and street.  His bike was intact parked under the streetlight but tonight, someone was openly studying her.

He was glad he chose his most broken-in shoes and quietly approached the slender man, huh, with a mask.  None of his friends or teammates wore masks that only concealed the eyes.  He wondered how they avoided facial recognition with such a flimsy disguise.

"I'm not touching, just admiring - everybody heard about what happened to Marco when he got too close," Mask said, turning to look up at him.  "Guess that explains why it's built to handle so much weight, wow - Big Guy."

"Marco?" Steve asked, a little put out that he failed at sneaking up on the weirdo.  

"Zapped his fingers good.  Who modded it for you?  It's top rate," he added with a swing of a hip as he stepped back.

"Not sure that's your business, but thanks.  Did you need something?"

He tilted his head, bright eyes twinkling through the domino mask.  "Nope, seriously, I was just admiring good craftmanship on my way home."

"Sure, no harm done," Steve said, his curiosity flaring.  "I'm new in town, not sure if the mask means you're a good guy or - "

"Ah," the man cut him off with a grin and a flourish, bowing dramatically in place.  "My ego has been redeemed - Nightwing, at your service, totally good guy right here."

Steve didn't remember the name from any of Nat's briefings about the NYC vigilantes but - right, this was Jersey.  "I'll have to take your word on that.  You know anyone around here that has a garage that does custom bike work?"

Nightwing laughed.  "Well, Marco's shop is the only legal one in the area but he's pretty sure your bike's possessed like Christine."

"Who's Christine?" Steve asked.

"Like the car in that old movie - never mind."

He didn't think he'd be adding that one to his list.  "I'll check it out, thanks."

"Where are you headed this late?  Probably not a good idea around here, no matter how much you can bench press."

"Not sure that's your business, but going with the idea that you're not a criminal, there's a diner around the corner that has decent pancakes."

"Better than decent around here," Nightwing agreed.

He didn't do a deep dive into research about the local vigilante, but he satisfied his curiosity with a few polite questions and learned everything he needed to from the neighborhood.  The kid slinging weed said he was a nuisance that needed to mind his own business, but Bridget from the diner, Yuri at the library and Marco at the shop only had praise for the cheery street hero.

"He's a little 'flamboyant' to quote the wifey," Marco explained when he could tear his focus away from the motorcycle to hold a conversation.  "But getting all the bad guys looking his way so the victims can escape is his whole vibe."

Steve's shield was painted like a target so he knew that vibe.  

"I don't know, man, this thing is a work of beauty, are you serious about wanting to rebuild it?"

"Can you make it faster?" Steve asked.

Marco's eyes went wide, bushy eyebrows at high alert.  "No way, this thing's like a rocket."

He laughed and hoped he didn't sound as hysterical as he felt.  "Probably for the best."

"Why do you want to mess with it at all?  I'm happy to do the maintenance and tune-ups but - "

"My ex bought it for me.  Told him I was thinking of getting a classic bike and - I'm not saying I don't love it, love to ride it - but, it's got so much of his memory built in that it's never going to feel like just mine."

"So get your own, fuck him," Marco shrugged.  "Keep this for whatever emergency gives you a reason to need this kind of turbo, and get one just for you.  A man can never have enough bikes, no matter what my wife says."

"Maybe you're right."

"You should hit up Mr. Penny, old guy that brings Grayson's brother around on the weekends - he looks like a snooty asshole but he knows a ton about classic motorcycles."

Grayson was his neighbor if the names on the mail slots were correct but he hadn't met him yet.  "I'll do some research."

He found an art supply store near the library and with the bike on his backburner brain, he overfilled his shopping bags with paint and fresh brushes and pencils and colors to fill new canvases.

He would use all the stuff he brought from Tony's, just - not right now.  He felt like he was running in place between missions and would never get off the treadmill to make progress again until he cut the tether.

Just say no to Stark, even if that meant 'Jersey' - Clint's advice but he could stick to it better than any of the 'I told you so but - ' alternatives.

He was sticking to his decision - he didn't trust the military, hell, any wing of the government, enough to enlist or sign a contract like Bucky and Sam; didn't want to go to space with Thor or tempt fate with Scott and Bruce in science labs doing danger math - he wanted - 

He wanted something else.  Not a family like Clint, not a solitary peace like Natasha or a public display of private affection like Tony.

Fuck.  He could do this.

He clicked on his communicator to take the call on his walk home, not wanting to put his bags down.  (Tony had never been able to track the tiny tech but Scott and Nat trusted them enough to use them as Bluetooth for personal calls so Steve rarely took his out.)

"Heya, Cap," Happy chirped in his ear.  "Boss said you took your bike to a shop, wants the scoop."

"He can call me himself, Happy."

"Not yet, don't cross the streams - or whatever, you know what I mean.  What's going on out there?"

"I vetted a local garage, disabled the alarm system to do basic maintenance, not a full diagnostic because only your boss can do that," Steve said.  "He promised not to track me, how is this different?"

"I DON'T WANT TO WAIT FOR ANOTHER APOCALYPSE TO SEE YOU - ROUTINE MAINTENANCE IS - "

He blinked when Tony's voice cut out and Happy's tired sigh filled his ear.  "Sorry."

"He's drinking already?"

"Yeah, I get a huge bonus to do the drunk dials, but I appreciate you picking up, I was going to call you myself later.  Did you unpack yet?"

He let himself relax and turned the corner toward his apartment.  "All moved in.  Thank you for the books and the shelves.  Thank Pepper, too."

"None of us wanted you to leave, but we all want you to be happy."

"Might take a little longer for that, but between you and me, I'm doing okay.  Is Tony - "

"Tony's surrounded by people to watch him spiral, but you're all alone in Jersey.  I mean, out of every place in the world you chose - anyway.  I'll call you tomorrow when I'm not on the clock."

He hated that Tony was day-drinking, hated that it was his fault by default for leaving instead of settling into the friendzone like Pepper or Rhodey but - he wasn't built that way.

He focused on getting his bags upstairs and called out a thank you to the older man and child that held the door for him.

"Pardon me, but is that your motorcycle parked across the street?" the older man asked, eyes sharp despite his polite British tone.

"Yes, it's a replica of - "

"I must stop you there, it's definitely not a replica, whoever rebuilt it for you used original parts.  Parts long believed lost to time."

The young boy was watching him now, suspicious.

He flashed back to Marco's suggestion.  "Are you Mr. Penny?  Marco suggested I talk with you, said you had an eye for the classics."

"Pennyworth is knowledgeable in all things," the boy scowled.

"Thank you, Master Damian," Pennyworth said, giving him a fond look.  "But I am always happy to discuss vintage cars and motorcycles."

Mr. Pennyworth, or Alfred as he introduced himself when he'd dropped off the child, announced his ulterior motives once he had poked around Steve's apartment.

He would never be one to judge someone's age at first glance but Alfred plucked the painting from the wall with the Commandos and announced he'd worked with Monty and Dernier in the years after the war.

They quizzed each other for a few minutes and once Steve recovered from the ache of all the time he'd missed with his friends, he settled in to listen to Alfred's stories.

His history and recovery had been top news after the battle of New York but most of the surviving Commandos had gone into classified ops after his first death and he didn't bother hiding his curiosity with this man who knew his lost friends.  Alfred may not have known Peggy well, but he spoke of Falsworth with such respect that Steve trusted him immediately.

"Monty said Howard Stark never stopped looking for you."

Steve sighed.  "Yeah, he never got over it."

Alfred looked away.  "I didn't think Monty or Jacques would ever stop looking for Sergeant Barnes but - "

"They found his severed arm with enough blood to consider him officially KIA.  His sisters wrote Peggy a letter asking her to let it go, for both of us actually.  But Howard had the money to keep the search going long after the rest of the world forgot about us."

"I can assure you that neither of you were forgotten," Alfred said.  "May I ask how he is?"

"Bucky?  He's okay, they broke his programming, he talked it out with Tony and Congress and decided to get his redemption on government time," Steve said.  "Do I sound bitter?"

"I won't hold it against you.  Does he?"

"No," he answered honestly.  "We had different experiences and we need to get over them in our own ways.  He's been my best friend over a century, nothing's going to change that.  But everyone hates the fact I'm settling in New Jersey."

"As I told Richard, a temporary stay in this state is fine, but no one will be settling here.  I will not allow it," Alfred said.  He checked his phone and Steve realized they'd been talking for hours.  "The boys have noticed my car is still here and are not being respectful of my weekend free time."

"I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time, it's not often I get to share stories with people that remember who I'm talking about," Steve said.  "Would you like to stay for dinner?  Invite the boys, I'm not undercover."

"Why not?  You're exposed living in public under your real name, your history on full display in museums - anyone could approach you."

Steve smiled.  "When I went in the water, Alfred, the world was still at war - I didn't have a lot of good advice in the first few months and I had a healthy mix after the whole Alien thing.  Can't exactly drop off the grid right now, but I can fade into the background for a bit."

He didn't regret dating Tony, loving and trying to make a life with Tony - but he wasn't built for the stage and being with him meant a constant public performance.

"You have been awake far too long to need a sabbatical in New Jersey, I denounce any good things I've ever said about Howard's son."  Alfred stood up and opened the door, Richard's hand raised to knock with Damian, still scowling, at his side.

"Damian, Richard - this is Steven Rogers, a personal friend," Alfred said.

Richard's face crinkled with amusement.  "Alfie, he's my neighbor, he can't be on your 'personal friend' list before mine."

"Behave," Alfred scolded and Steve bit back a laugh.  They might not be Alfred's actual grandchildren but they were undeniably family.

Apart from a few weekends with Clint's family, Steve hadn't spent a lot of time with people that weren't soldiers, spies or superheroes.  (Tony's business parties didn't count, they were just like publicity circuits.)

Dick, who didn't actually like to be called Richard, was open and friendly and wore Nightwing's smile better with the full face to match.  (But at least he knew why the guy kept his distance once Steve started making friends with the other neighbors.)

Damian was prickly and sharp, carrying himself like an adult despite his age and size.  He made it clear he didn't trust Steve despite Alfred's reference but did a good job at feigning politeness.

"I was going to make curry, does anyone have any objections?" Steve asked.

"You're going to let someone else cook?" Dick boggled at Alfred.

Alfred took a seat at the counter with a slight shrug.  "It is my night off, I'm happy to supervise from afar."

Damian raised his chin in tiny defiance.  "I am vegetarian."

Steve took out another pan.  It wasn't like he wouldn't devour the leftovers with or without meat.  "Make yourselves at home, this will take a bit."

Dick was transfixed by the 'Catch Up on Culture!  :D' whiteboard with the list of movies and pop culture suggestions but Damian drifted out of the room immediately.

Alfred and Dick both took note and he doubted either of them let Damian out of their reach often.

"I don't keep weapons in the place," he said quietly.  "Only thing back there is the art room and he's welcome to look around.  I have video games, I just don't play them when it's just me."

Dick disappeared without a word but Alfred smiled, amused.  "I forgot you were an artist."

"Not an artist, barely a cartoonist," Steve corrected.  "But I've got lots of time now to learn new things."  He lowered his voice.  "It's great that they're so close, their dad must be very proud."

"If only it were that simple.  Bruce and Richard are estranged.  Richard raised Damian for over a year while he was missing and - everything has been quite - unsettled since his return," Alfred confessed, covering his face.  "I'm speaking out of turn."

"You already listened to my whole story, I'd be a crappy friend if I wasn't willing to listen to yours," Steve said.

Dick returned with an apologetic expression.  "Can I, like, buy one of those blank canvases from you and pay you for use of supplies?"

"I almost bought out the art store today, I definitely don't want your money but you can help me out," Steve replied when he saw Alfred's shock.  "Everything in the far back corner is his if he wants it.  My ex liked to give me gifts when we had a fight.  I can't throw it out because, wasteful, and I haven't donated it because I'm new in town."

"He likes it?" Alfred whispered to Dick who nodded solemnly.

"He said you took him to a museum in Prague and wants me to Google a painting, do you - "

"Open the closet," Steve offered.  "My ex's ex also liked to give me gifts when she found out we had a fight, got books of art alphabetized by country."

"We are putting a BOLO out for your ex," Alfred said.

Chapter Text

He enjoyed the company and looked forward to Dick bringing Damian over to finish the painting he started later in the weekend, but he didn't realize that he'd been adopted - or at least claimed - by Alfred until the man started texting and calling on a daily basis.

He briefly considered that it could be pity or nostalgia but accepted it as friendship when Alfred filled the time bragging about his other 'grandchildren', conveniently omitting any mention of his first official charge.  Looking after the Waynes was a full time job and Alfred never said it out loud, but he seemed lonely without friends outside of the family. 

Steve tried not to press the subject but his curiosity was piqued once he spent a few meals with Dick at his place, neither of them wanting to get a scolding text from Alfred about snacking versus meals.

Dick's walls were filled with photos of his brothers, his sister, and his friends but there was only one with his father and a younger Alfred.

For someone with so many photos, Dick seemed as lonely as Alfred.  Steve was eventually going to ask what he was doing in Jersey when the rest of his family was an hour away in Gotham but it wasn't top priority when they had motorcycles to repair and movies to watch.

Damian and Alfred visited every weekend on a regular schedule and Tim, the one in college, came over for coffee a couple of times (and probably could give Tony a run for his money doing math without a calculator) but it wasn't until Bucky and Sam surprised him with a visit that he realized how much Alfred's support system had blended into his own.

"Wait.  You're Alfred's friend?"

Steve went through his mental list of all of Alfred's 'charges' and matched up the streak of white hair and bulk to the 'lost' one.  "You must be Jason.  Is Dick expecting you?"

The kid - young man - whatever, they were all kids in Steve's head thanks to Alfred - blinked in shock.  "Uh, no, but do you know where he is?"

"Dami's in the back, he might know."

Jason frowned.  "It's a weekday, why is Damian here?"

"No idea, he knocked and I let him in," Steve shrugged, moving aside to invite him inside.  Dick came by for his morning coffee and met Sam and Bucky so when Damian turned up a few hours ago, Steve had let him into the art room without question.

"You said we weren't having a party," Bucky called from the couch without looking away from the video game.

"Neighbors, or neighbor-adjacents, don't count," Steve replied.  "Get your feet off the table."

Sam and Bucky both groaned but lowered their shoes back to the floor.

Steve leaned into the art room.  "Damian, your brother's here."

Dami rarely showed surprise but he clearly didn't expect Jason.  "Todd?"

"What are you doing out of school?"

"I have parental permission," Damian said.  Steve quickly backed out of the room because if he could spot the lie, Jason should be able to.

He took his place back on the couch and glanced at his friends.  "Did you decide on a movie yet, or any activity outside of my living room?"

"It's our leave time and we can spend it however we want," Sam replied.

"And maybe we want to get our scores back to the top since you've been letting randoms play our games while we're off serving our country," Bucky added.

"You know he's got you chipped, you're going to get Alfred's shiny new friend in all kinds of trouble if B pings you over here without permission," Jason was saying as he walked out with Damian.

Steve and Sam both glanced at the signal blocker below the game system that would redirect all GPS software in the immediate area.

"I have permission," Dami insisted.

"Sure, a suspension from school and a stolen car - "

"It's not stolen, it is Father's car and belongs to the family, you're not even legally alive so - "

"There's a Jaguar missing all four tires at the end of the block," Sam said.

Both boys blanched at that.

"I'm messing with you," Sam grinned.  "But you probably should move it closer to the building."

Jason swatted at Damian.  "Move the car, punk, I'll call Alf."

"I have already notified Richard - "

"Which is why I'm calling Alf, you can't keep playing B and Dick off each other, they're barely speaking to each other as it is," Jason scolded.

Bucky slowly raised his hand.  "Is he, like, allowed to move the car?  Because Sam yelled at me for letting his niece drive the truck."

"She's seven years old!" Sam protested.

"Come on, kid, you can show me where Stevie got those blue tortilla chips that I accidentally may have eaten."

"All of them?" Steve gasped.  "There were eight bags - "

"Quick, before he turns any redder," Bucky darted for the door with Damian taking the exit on his heels.

"I did not need this today.  Sorry for getting dramatic in your place," Jason sighed.

"Call Alfred, then you can apologize," Steve directed.  He texted Alfred from his own phone to warn him and received an eye-rolling emoticon in reply.

Sam leaned in.  "I was worried about you only making friends with old guys but I gotta admit, this Alfred guy seems good for you."

"I'm still not letting you see the new bike until it's finished," Steve replied.  "And I have other friends, just not ones that come over all the time like Dick and his brothers."

"It's going to make it harder for us to convince you to come with us on our next op," Sam said.

He shrugged.  He'd turned down Natasha and Sharon's recent requests and only sat in on one of Rhodey's conference calls for a misguided job offer.  "Depends on the op."

"Yeah yeah, you'll come if we need you but not if we just want you around, I remember," Sam grinned, shoving him.  "I'm so proud of you."

Jason held out his phone and Steve accepted it.  "Hey, Alfred."

"Master Dick won't be home for several hours, can you make sure Dami and Jason are fed and haven't killed each other before he gets back?"

"Sure, but shouldn't their dad handle this instead of Dick?" Steve asked.

"For once, they're together, but unfortunate reasons.  It's not a good time for Damian to throw a tantrum.  Thank you for looking after them."

"Dami's no problem, but I'm not sure about the new one, seems kind of snarly," Steve said, glancing over his shoulder at Jason who crossed his arms with a frown.

"He's much better now, but the boys can be - lively - when confined together for too long."

"Got it, will make sure everyone has their own pizza on separate cushions," Steve said, grinning when Sam fist-pumped his approval.  

"No pizza."

"No pizza?  I guess I can cook," Steve frowned.  Sam beamed wider, giving Jason a high-five.

"You look like hell, Timmy," Jason said, eyes locked on the door when Steve let Tim inside after his timid knock.

He looked more exhausted than the first few times they'd met and was swallowed in one of Dick's oversized hoodies.

"Come have some food, you okay?" Steve lowered his voice at the question but Tim only shrugged and let himself be steered to the table.

"What happened?  Did you steal a car, too?" Jason asked, watching Tim poke and prod at his lasagna square before taking a bite.

"I tried to drop out of college.  Blew up at a professor and missed an exam," Tim said.

Jason flinched.  "Shit, man, why didn't you - "

Tim shrugged again before he could finish.  "I called Dick before I did anything - more drastic, dunno how Bruce found out but he fixed it."

Damian shifted in his seat.  "I alerted Father.  Grayson would only be concerned about your well-being and not give the proper attention to the consequences of your actions.  He is very - pleased with your performance."

"So you were trying to get me in trouble?" Tim frowned.

"No," Dami said quickly.  "Nothing pleases him lately.  Since you moved out he's been miserable and I don't want to be the focus of his attention.  I didn't anticipate Grayson and Father running into each other, I thought you would be safely out of the area before he arrived to fill his role."  He met Tim's eyes with a cool expression.  "You are the only one of us he trusts."

"Why didn't you tell Alfred?" Steve asked, his attention ping-ponging around the table at the all the Youth Angst.

Sam and Bucky both scoffed at him.  "He's an only child, ignore him," Sam said.  "You always go to a sibling before you go to a grown up."

"Richard would have made you confront all your teachers, but Father would never make you admit a mistake if he could pay it off first," Damian added.  "Why didn't you go home with Father if you spoke with him?"

Tim scrubbed a hand over his face.  "Dick wouldn't let me, he wants me to take time off work if I'm taking time off school.  Doesn't approve of multitasking as self-care, or something, that's why they're still outside fighting about it."

"So you work for your Dad's company and go to school?  That's just asking for a burnout," Bucky whistled but Steve was already on his feet.

"They're outside?"  He yanked open the window and spotted Dick and a taller man gesturing at each other below.  "HEY!  Dinner's on the table, don't think I won't call Alfred if you miss the meal!"

"I can't believe Alfred's outsourcing his hovering now," Jason murmured.

"And I can't believe Steve expects us to save enough for more guests," Bucky said, eyeing the dwindling lasagna dish.

He swatted him on the back of the head as he went to fetch the second round of breadsticks and pasta from the oven.

"You eat like starving vagrants," Damian said, curling his arm protectively around his vegetarian portion as Dick stepped into the apartment with his father.  Damian definitely had his father's features but the rest of the boys favored him in posture and attitude without needing the DNA.

"I'm sorry for yelling, but I promised Alfred that I would feed any of his wayward charges when they were nearby," he said, giving Dick a one-armed hug and offering Bruce Wayne a handshake.  "I'm Steve Rogers, nice to finally put a face to the name."

"Don't take it personally, Steve avoids celebrity news if he's not being papped," Dick told his silent father, scanning the room for his brothers.  "Sorry for the invasion."

"We're not, he was going to order pizza until Jason turned up," Sam said with a polite nod as he gave up his seat around the table to reclaim his game controller.

"Sit down and eat, you can finish your argument on a full stomach in a more private place," Steve suggested, patting Dick on the back and waiting for them to step fully inside before locking the door behind them.

Chapter Text

"Alfred didn't mention - your age," Bruce said as he studied the plate of food Steve placed in front of him.

"What, that I'm older than he is?" Steve asked, checking to make sure everyone was satisfied with their drinks and meal before he sat down.  He paused by Tim's chair.  "Do you want something else?  You know my fridge is overstocked.  Got yogurt and granola for those parfait things."

Tim pushed the plate aside with a slight nod.  "Fruit too?" 

"If Bucky hasn't eaten it all, there should be," he said, sitting down once the kid headed to the fridge on his own.

Dick and Bruce stared at him.

"You eat like this all the time?" Jason asked.

"Supersoldier metabolism.  He is always eating," Damian sniffed.

"But - nobody but Alfred can get Tim to eat without a fight," Bruce blurted out.

"My ma would roll over in her grave if I didn't feed guests that I invite into my home," Steve said.

Bucky winked as he took Tim's discarded lasagna to finish.  "Be glad he's a better cook than his Ma.  You'll never find me crashing on anybody else's couch when Steve keeps a buffet on demand."

"We have a lot more options than Ma.  Like, they have so many different kinds of yogurt now," he said as Tim returned to the table with a salad bowl full of yogurt, fruit and granola.

"If your dad's not going to lecture you, we can totally eat on the couch," Bucky told Damian and Tim.  "He gets entirely too excited talking about yogurt and we can hook up the extra controllers for the game."

"I can't believe Alfred supports you all acting like fratboys," Bruce murmured.

"Can't start arguments at the table so I'm definitely moving to the couch now," Bucky replied.

Damian glanced at Dick, not his father, for permission, and Steve wondered what he was missing when Damian shuffled away.

"Do you really think the Winter Soldier is the best influence for Damian?" Bruce hissed at Dick.

Jason snickered.  "Guy killed a bunch of people against his will and dedicated his life to make amends, so I don't know, maybe I'm a better influence?  Whatever."

Steve was insulted.  "Bucky would never talk about that kind of stuff with a child and I believe you're the only 'fratboy' in the room.  Your children have never been as disrespectful or insulting as you - "

Dick cleared his throat with a sharp elbow in Bruce's side, cutting him off.  "Respect your elders, B."

"I love this guy, he's on Alfred's side and not yours - favorite new person," Jason laughed, taking his plate and Steve's to the sink before claiming a seat around the TV.

"Damian usually holes up in the art room, Steve's got all kinds of books and keeps a YouTube playlist on different techniques queued up," Dick said.

Tim hummed, finishing his bite before chiming in.  "He's got a comprehensive database of movies and old TV, a lot of stuff that's not in circulation outside of his rich ex-boyfriend's connections.  He's got the radio versions of Doctor Who - so much content."

"You were Tony Stark's boytoy," Bruce said.

That was too far.  "I completely understand why no one in your family ever mentions you, Mr. Wayne."

"Jesus, B, you know he's important to Alfred, do you really intend to piss off everyone you care about today?  The hell is wrong with you?" Dick whispered when Steve stood up abruptly to passive aggressively do the dishes in the kitchen - just like his Ma taught him to avoid drama when people were still eating.

"Well, our work here is done - you're officially not wallowing in regret for your poor life choices and haven't started any local or international incidents yet," Sam announced, tucking his phone away as he joined Steve in the kitchen.  Dick, Jason and Bruce had retreated to his apartment but Tim and Dami were still on the couches.

"You're leaving already?"

"Not all of us have endless government backpay," Sam grinned.  "Rhodey wants us to run some recon for him, sounds simple so we might be back sooner rather than later."

He winced.  "You realize you just jinxed yourself, right?  Maybe I should - "

"Nah, we got this, you know Sam never turns down a chance to work with his hero," Bucky said, walking over with their gear.  "I still want to meet this Alfred guy next time."

"Then you'll have to stay a little longer," Steve replied, giving them both hugs and following them to the fire escape instead of the door.

"You want a moment to say goodbye?" Sam asked, shrugging into his flight harness.

Steve took the offered shield and checked it for new dings and scratches, appreciating the reassuring hum when he raised it to his cheek to listen to the metal.

"Please, never change, Weirdo," Bucky laughed as he yanked him into another hug.  "I'll text you before we go dark."

"Thank you.  Come back sane, both of you," he ordered before they both climbed onto the fire escape.

He watched Falcon take flight with Bucky and stepped out to wave goodbye, vaguely aware of Tim leaning out with wide eyes.

"He didn't say he was The Falcon," Tim said in an awed voice.

"He's Captain America now, they put out a press release and everything," Steve replied.  "And you say I'm behind the times."

Bruce took his son's place and Steve frowned.  "I owe you an apology, Captain Rogers.  May I, come out?"

Huh.

"Alfred's not very happy with me lately and I wasn't fair to you.  You've been very kind to Dick and his brothers and I don't want to leave without making it right with you."

"Alfred loves your family, he's never going to be happy if any of you are at odds," Steve said, accepting the apology.  He didn't want to be at odds with the oldest of Alfred's charges.

"I was - away for a while, over a year.  They thought I was dead.  Dick took care of Damian, Tim took care of my business and Jason - Jason finally came home."  Bruce shook his head, exhaustion flashing on his face for only a moment.  "When I got back - everything had changed."

Steve knew a little bit about how that felt but he decided not to interrupt.

"I'm trying to get back to normal but - Tim moved out so he could go to school and insisted that he keep his job and Dick questions every single decision I make for Damian and Jason made up with his brothers but he still hates me - "

"Pause," Steve said.  "You said everything had changed when you got back, but did you change while you were gone?  I didn't, I was frozen in the ocean and came back like waking from a nap - the world, the people we love - their time didn't stop, did yours?"

A low whistle interrupted before Bruce could respond and Jason lowered himself to the fire escape from the ladder, dropping a half smoked cigarette butt into Steve's guest ashtray.  

"It took three fistfights and a trip to the ER for Dick and I to figure our shit out and Tim lived with me for three months before he decided to go to college to get *away* from Dick and Damian was a disaster when you were gone," Jason said, poking his finger into Bruce's chest.  "We earned what we got now, but you - you haven't earned shit."

"How am I supposed to earn it when - "

"You want things back to normal - your normal.  You want Tim, not Dami, on your six - you want Dick to act like Damian's just his brother when he treated him like a son for a *year* and - " Jason held his father's gaze as he took a breath.  "And you still judge me for my mistakes instead of caring that I'm trying to be better."

"Of course I care," Bruce insisted.  "The fact you did it on your own, all of you - without any help from me - I'm so proud - "

"But he's probably feeling a little bit left out," Steve said when the moment hung over them.  "You filled all the spaces he left when he was gone."

"Nah, there's no replacement for the old man, we know that better than anyone," Jason said without breaking eye contact with his father.  "If he wants to be Damian's dad, then he needs to treat him like his son and if he wants Tim to act his age then he needs to take his responsibilities back.  And if he wants me to really 'come home' then he's gotta accept me for who I am now."

Steve knew he would be paying his mother a visit for fresh flowers on her grave very soon.  He smacked both of them lightly on the back of the head and got matching glares of outrage.  He pointed at Bruce.  "Tell your kid you love him, Jesus - and you - tell your father that you're glad he's not dead.  Now."

"Dude.  Your Dad is weird," Steve whispered when Damian slipped onto the fire escape at his father's call.  Bruce had commandeered the small area for private consultations with his family like Dick's apartment didn't have the exact same space across the hall.

Dick huffed out a laugh.  "You don't know the half of it but, yeah.  Eccentric, like your ex."

"Right, he's rich enough for eccentric.  I'm glad I got to meet him.  Have to give Alfred a full report tomorrow," he added.

"I'd ask you to take it easy on him, but - you're too honest for that.  I was so caught up in the fact that Tim asked me for help that I didn't stop to think about how B would feel about it.  He's already twisted up because Dami talks to me more than him and today Tim calls me first and it - might have gotten nasty if you hadn't channeled Alfred for us."

"You moved here to give them space to figure it out?" Steve asked.

"And to figure myself out," Dick admitted.  "My family has a way of - consuming my entire life and I neglected my friends and, well, everything when B was gone."

Steve patted him on the shoulder.  "You gotta check yourself before you wreck yourself."

"Oh my God, who taught you that?" Dick laughed.  "Never say that again.  Look, I'm going to head out for a few days to help Jay with something, but Tim's going to stay at my place and hopefully sleep the whole time."

"That kid's a workaholic, you can't just order him to stand down and accept him to switch off.  He'll be climbing the walls after his crash," Steve said.  "I'll keep my eye on him, see if he's up for a trip to Manhattan tomorrow."

Dick scanned him.  "You going to New York?"

He needed a pep talk after the 'boytoy' comment but he definitely wasn't telling Dick that.  "I feel a little - disappointed Bucky and Sam couldn't stay and I want to check in on my other friends to make myself feel better.  Don't really want to sit here alone and worried like some kind of war wife."

"That's good to hear since Tim's out cold in your guest room," Bruce said as he stepped out with Damian and his bag.

"Don't wake him, he likes the weighted blanket and I turned on my space noise for him," Steve said.

"Space.  Noise?" Damian asked, more relaxed under his father's arm than he'd been all night.

"Rainforest makes him have to pee, ocean reminds me of the ice and fire brings up camping nightmares," Steve shuddered.  "Space is fast and floaty and the beeps keep it from getting too quiet."

"I want a link to that," Dick said after a beat.

"I need to eat more often than I need to sleep," Steve said.

Damian stepped forward.  "I apologize for lying to you about Richard knowing I was here.  It won't happen again."

"Thank you," Steve said.  "Honesty is important.  I'm never going to ask for your secrets, like bank account or home address unless I'm being mind controlled or something, but you made me look like an untrustworthy neighbor and chaperone."

"I'm sorry," Damian murmured.

"You're forgiven.  We have that appointment to take pictures and sketch those goats at the yoga place on Sunday."

"Alfred has it on the group calendar," Bruce said.

Chapter Text

"I have no idea what kind of magic you worked last night but I am in your debt, Steven."

"Nonsense," he told Alfred, slowing his steps to a walk so he could take the call as he turned toward his apartment.  "So everyone made it home safely?"

"Indeed, in much better moods than when they left.  I can count on one hand how many times Master Bruce has apologized without prompting."

"We didn't get off on the best foot.  You guys warned me that Dami was spoiled but so far, I think Bruce Wayne is the brat."

Alfred laughed softly.

"He said he was sorry, told me he was having trouble fitting in after being presumed dead.  I'm starting to think his business is kind of shady if he has to fake his death or disappears for that long," he added.

"It was a - unique situation, we aren't members of any branch of mafia."

"That's what someone in the mafia would say," Steve murmured.  "But it's not my business.  Tim was asleep when I headed out for my run, but I left him a note.  Thought I'd take him with me to the city today if he's up for it."

"He doesn't need our permission but Master Bruce has decided you're a worthy role model in any case.  Please ask him to call me at his convenience.  Looking back, he must have been avoiding me so I wouldn't notice his exhaustion.  He should never have signed up for a full course load while handling Wayne Enterprises business."

"I think all of them are wound too tight for their age, but I'll make sure he's fit for duty before I drag him anywhere." 

Tim was eager to take the short trip with him once he'd told him the destination and he was a worthy distraction through the traffic.  Steve liked to drive fast and that wasn't possible in Manhattan.

"I'm supposed to tell you that Avengers Tower is officially six feet taller than the Wayne Enterprises building," Steve said as they climbed out of the car in the private parking deck.

"Noted, will mark down on the dick-measuring scorecard," Tim smiled.

"CAP!"  He was ambushed into a crushing hug and laughed when he recognized their junior Avenger.

"Hey, Peter.  So much for a surprise visit," he laughed when he could breathe again.

"You know Mr. Stark has an alert any time your biometrics cross into his surveillance range," Peter said.  "Hi!"

"Peter, this is my friend, Tim, who was kind enough to accompany from Jersey."

"Gross, not you, but Jersey," Peter said, shaking Tim's hand enthusiastically.

"Can you get him a visitor's pass so I don't have to drag him to the lobby?"

Peter shrugged.  "Ms. Potts already cleared you both for upstairs, pretty sure she thinks he's your new boyfriend."

"He's a child!" Steve protested over Tim's startled giggle.

"Pretty sure you're never going to be able to date in your age range, Cap," Peter grinned as he scanned his palm for the elevator.

Pepper cleared their work schedule so they could greet him and the circles under Tony's eyes were 'shadows of sleep' and not 'shades of hungover' 

Tim and Peter seemed to get along (from Pete's level of chatter anyway) so Steve let himself relax.

"What's really on your mind, Steve?" Tony asked after the first round of catch-up was done.

"Bruce Wayne called me your boytoy," Steve sighed.

Tony stiffened.  "What does that bastard know about - "

"I'm pretty sure he was just trying to rile him up," Tim offered quietly.  "He didn't even know you yet."

Tony strummed his fingers down his cheek until he met his eyes.  "You want another pep talk about how I love you for your heart, not your body or your brain?"

"You have no respect for my brain, I remember," Steve said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Would you like me to shame him on Twitter?  Totally part of my internship," Peter said.

Pepper spoke up.  "Absolutely not, we finally have a good working relationship with Wayne Enterprises since Mr. Drake started handling our contracts."

Steve glanced at Tim who was visibly surprised.  "You're Virginia Potts?"

"You're still on vacation," Steve pointed at him.  "Don't make me take your phone, Alfred told me I could if you did work stuff."

"But - I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt and - " Tim protested.

"Because you're not here to work, you're only here for moral support - I wouldn't have invited you if I'd known there was - work stuff involved," Steve said.

"Timothy Drake-Wayne, ugh, you shouldn't have hyphenated, now I'm going to have to update all my email filters so you won't get 404 errors.  Why are you mixed up with the Waynes anyway?  I told you New Jersey was an awful place," Tony took his hand and dragged him to the couch circle.

"His butler worked with Monty and Dernier, we're friends," Steve said.

"Pennyworth's still around?  Dad punched Thomas Wayne in the mouth once, pretty sure that's why SI never dealt with Wayne Enterprises until Pepper took over."

"Howard still has more enemies than Iron Man, which is not a challenge, Tony," Pepper said with a warning glare in his direction.

"I didn't get involved in Dad's business until I was out of college with no other choice - don't let your old man con you into doing his work for him," Tony told Tim.  "God, you haven't even had a scandal of your own yet, no sex tape or drunk and disorderly - nobody likes a teacher's pet."

Tim met Steve's gaze.  "You really went out with this guy?"

"It was legit crazy, like, Cap's so nice and Mr. Stark is so - anyway, you want to go rummage through all the gift baskets in his place?" Peter bounced to his feet.

Steve blinked.  "I have gift baskets?"

"Tons, congratulations mostly, for getting rid of me," Tony said.

"That's - awful."

Peter nodded solemnly.  "Awful.  But to waste that much fancy chocolate would be worse." 

"Sorting gift baskets sounds amazing," Tim said.  "I want to collect all the cards, for thank you notes and background checks."

"Oh, you'd make a great intern," Peter laughed.

"Will you stay for lunch if I order your favorites?" Pepper asked.

"Happy was supposed to meet me after I saw Tony," Steve replied.

She kissed his cheek, then Tony's.  "I'll make it happen, we'll be in your apartment downstairs when you're done."

"Relocating me downstairs to make me homesick?" Steve asked when he was alone with Tony.

"Nah, you never spent any time down there when you lived here, they're just making sure I talk to you," Tony smiled.  "I'm sorry I went off the rails when you left.  It wasn't your fault."

"I know that, you always relapse when you have a good excuse and this time it was me."

Tony snorted.  "I hate that you're making friends.  I hate that I couldn't hold it together long enough for you to miss me.  I hate that I haven't been able to come visit because I messed up my schedule with my spiral."

"I hate that all those things make me feel better about you not reaching out to me."

"I didn't want to call you when I was drinking."

"And I love you for that," Steve said honestly.  "But this works better for us, right?  Friends?"

Tony pinched him.  "You'll never be just a friend, asshole, you're a part of my life now, Jersey be damned."

"So you have this huge private apartment in the city but you're slumming it in New Jersey with Dick instead."

Steve snatched the bag of swiss chocolates from Tim as retaliation for the call out.  "I'm not 'slumming' it.  None of this is mine, you know?"

"Cap likes to make his own decisions.  Tony's tower, Tony's things," Pepper said, picking from Tony's plate while he chattered to Happy.

"Some of that's true," he agreed.  "I needed a fresh start.  This is where I worked, where I lived - loved - but it never felt like home.  Too much glass, too tall - too far from everything."

"It's a giant glass tower and Cap's the princess locked inside after being asleep for over a hundred years," Peter said dreamily.

Steve didn't have to ask how his Aunt May was doing after that description.

"Why are you in New Jersey?  He picked it because it's where Smol Steve became Cap - "

"Ugh, I have asked you repeatedly not to mention 'Smol Steve'," he groaned.

"Your doodles are epic, Babe," Tony said, joining their conversation and snagging some of the chocolates.  "But it's a good question, what are Brucie's kids doing in New Jersey?"

Tim recovered the chocolate before he answered.  "I flamed out in college so I'm hiding out at my brother's place for a while."

"Not true, he overworked himself and is taking a break at his brother's place," Steve corrected.

"College is so expensive," Peter said.  "I missed, like, a month of my freshman year because of reasons and I couldn't get a written excuse because of - well, other reasons."

"I didn't know that," Tony frowned.

"Reasons, he just said," Steve hushed him.

"I had to go to all of my professors and ask for make-up tests and extensions, but I made sure to read and study everything so I could prove I cared about the stuff I missed.  I would have lost all my scholarships and my aunt would have flipped out but most of them were understanding about it."

"If all else fails, they'll let you withdraw no fault and push the tuition to next semester, let you do-over.  I had to do that for a couple of binges when I was an undergrad, didn't want to deal with the teachers one on one so I went to the top and pled my case," Tony said.

"If you're as smart as Steve and Pep say you are, lay it all out for the professors and they'll give you a lot of leeway.  W.E. is a big deal in Gotham and your name - without the hyphen - was all over it for a while there.  Unless you don't want to go back.  Your brother dropped out didn't he?"

"Ha," Tim snickered.  "I can't wait to tell him you know that.  And I do want to get my degree, I just - had a moment.  I have a bunch of home assignments and I have to be back on campus in three weeks or decide to withdraw, which I definitely don't want to do."

"If you can't cut back on school, you can definitely cut back on work - get yourself an intern or make your dad pay for an assistant to delegate your load," Pepper suggested.  

"I shouldn't need help," Tim groaned.

"Everybody needs help sometimes," Steve said, tossing him a chocolate.

Chapter Text

"Someone's in my apartment," Steve said, looking up at the building through his bags of 'congratulations on your breakup' loot.

"You don't have security?" Tim asked, following his gaze.

"I do but - can you get my phone out of my pocket and hit the star button?"  His comm beeped in his ear once the kid followed instructions.  "Anybody in my house right now?"

It only took a moment to get a response.  "An apartment is not a house," Natasha said.  "Someone is watching your place."

"Explain," Steve frowned, mouthing to Tim, 'friendly'.  

"Two girls - not women, but girls - are monitoring the building, both in full costume."

"Next time call first, I'll be up shortly," Steve sighed and Tim hit the star again and switched off the comm.  "Tim."

"Yeah?"

"I'm never going to ask about your brother's night activities but do you think he would have asked for 'coverage' when he was out of town?"

"Oh," Tim winced.  "You know about that?"

"I absolutely do not know and do not want to, but my friend says she's being watched by a couple of masked ladies and we have a lot of enemies.  Are they enemies?"

"No," Tim said.  "I'll check in with Dick."

"Please.  Alfred swears you're not in the mafia but it's getting a little ridiculous," he added as Tim held the door open.  "If they're not enemies and are part of your non-mafia, please make sure they come in for dinner."

"You really don't have to feed us," Tim said.

"I'll let Alfred know you aren't hungry after eating three boxes of imported chocolate."

"Tattletale," he murmured.  "If they are who I think they are, I will invite them."

"Out of costume, I'm serious about not wanting to know about Dick's night job.  It's none of my business."

"You haven't asked Alfred?"

"Nope, because he would be insanely worried and he loves you all too much to need that kind of baggage," Steve said.  "Haven't even asked Dick because - none of my business."

"Thanks.  Not that I'm confirming anything you just said, but - yeah," Tim smiled.  

Natasha stood in his doorway with crossed arms.  "I take it your visit with the ex went well if you picked up a vengeance boytoy on your way home."

"I was going to say I missed you but now I have to wait until you apologize to my friend.  You know I hate that word," Steve frowned.

Tim moved forward with an extended hand.  "Natasha Romanov, number four on the BOLO 'trying to bang my dad' list, nice to meet a mutual gold-digger."

Natasha's face lit up with delight but Steve narrowed his glare and she laughed.  "Okay, geez, sorry, Steve - I'm sorry for objectifying your friend."

"Dinner in half an hour, I'm starving," he told Tim who slipped into Dick's apartment so Steve could greet Nat.  "Did you bring someone with you?"

"My sister wanted to meet you.  I planned surprising Sam and Bucky, too but - losers took a job," she said.

Natasha had mentioned her sister exactly once and Clint swore up and down that it was a traumatic memory not to be questioned in case it was a false one.  "Your.  Sister."

"It's complicated, and classified - as in I never put it on record.  A decision I do not regret considering how Buck's return almost went down," she added, taking the bags and steering him into his own apartment.

Yelena was full of snark and curiosity and Steve was honored that Natasha introduced them.  She looked at the younger woman like a treasured gift, one likely to disappear or be taken if she let her stray.

Natasha didn't like to share and he didn't want her to regret it but the way the two 'sisters' needled each other was the sign he needed to treat the younger one just like he treated Nat or risk flaring up sibling rivalry he didn't want to deal with in a civilian space.

Tim's knock distracted Yelena from touching more of his things and caught Natasha's rapt attention when Steve got up to let him in.

The kid stood between a young Asian girl with dark hair and razor sharp eyes and a perky blonde wearing an expression that made him expect an autograph request.

Yelena spoke behind him, in Russian to Nat.  "Is she one of us?"

"She is my friend's sister and the rest is none of your business," Steve answered in his uneven Russian before Natasha could respond.

"Um, kay.  Steve, this is my sister Cass and our friend, Steph," Tim said, glancing between the spies.

"It's great to meet you both," Steve said, ignoring Steph's starstruck stare to nod at the sister first.  "My friends, Natasha and Yelena are going to be on their best behavior."

"Absolutely," Natasha smiled, linking arms with Yelena who mirrored her innocent expression.

"That's totally convincing," Steph snickered.

Cass kept her face blank but Steve felt like he was back in Erskine's lab getting an x-ray.  She stepped forward and carefully put both arms around his waist in a gentle hug.  Aw.

"Cass?" Tim whispered.

"He's Alfred's friend.  Best behavior," Cass said, smiling brightly at him as she stepped back and elbowed Tim.  "We came to check on him but we didn't use our key to Dick's because someone was breaking into your place."

"We weren't breaking in - " Natasha denied.  "We were checking his security and it completely failed."

"So.  'Boytoy' and 'Cowgirl' are impolite words, but 'Dick' is allowed in polite conversation?"  Yelena asked Natasha.

"Dick's his name," Steph said.  "And - you're totally not a creepy gold-digger, you're the Black Widow.  They're not scamming your friend, they're spies - God, boys are ridiculous."

Steve liked her already.  "Any food preferences for either of you?"

"What's wrong with 'cowgirl'?  I need context," Tim frowned.

"Help Steve in the kitchen, we're going to have girl time," Natasha said, fluttering her eyelashes pointedly at Steve.  "Can we?"

"Not if they're children," he replied suspiciously.  Girl time always ended badly for his furniture.

"I don't think this will convince you we're not mafia," Tim said as Natasha spread the contents of her 'beauty kit' across his coffee table.  Her knives were sorted by size and material but Yelena and Cass both seemed to sort by color.

"Don't make a mess, and put up the board before you test anything," Steve warned.  "This is a brand new apartment."

"Are you questioning my aim?" Natasha asked, flipping her hair.

"Aim, no, motivations?  Always," Steve replied.

"Self-defense is a necessary skill," she replied.  "Yelena specializes in mentoring young, impressionable women."

Yelena blinked at her.  "No I don't, I track down other Black Widows and kill their handlers."

"No work or killing talk in front of the guests, please, Yelena," he scolded.  "They're not - spies or superheroes.  Keep up the good work, though - just don't talk about it?"

"Sorry, Steve, I'll keep it clean - please cook before you go full on chaperone on us," Natasha apologized.

"If their little brother was here, I wouldn't let you have the knives out at all - this is a normal, non-spy or vigilante apartment," Steve said.

"Noted," Cass nodded.

"Do you mean Damian?  Does he mean *Damian*?  Oh my God - " Steph covered her mouth.  "Sorry, yes - we got it, Captain Abs, I mean - "

Tim dragged him into the kitchen.  "Meal planning, that's your calm place and we should go there - what kind of dinner do you need after that massive meal we had three hours ago?"

Steve took a deep breath.  "Right.  Sorry.  Just - Alfred's my friend and I don't want him to think I'm being irresponsible with his family."

Tim laughed softly.  "You worry too much.  We're not mafia, but our family is made up of just as many misfits as yours.  Cass gave you a hug, she didn't hug any of us for, like, six months after Bruce adopted her - believe me, she's a great judge of character and can look out for herself."

"You're on vacation, but I appreciate the pep talk.  Go hang out with your sister and your friend - I'm making - empanadas."

Steph hopped onto the counter and took up Steve's space so he couldn't lay out his ingredients.  "Can you make something simpler so you can hang out, too?  There's no way we're getting Cass away from her new besties and I really need to quiz you on how you got Tim to sleep a solid cycle without medication."

"I already gave Alfred full instructions, but I'm pretty sure he had way too much junk food today for a good night's rest," Steve said.

"You're taking Alfred's directions too far, order food, charge Bruce for it and let us eat what we want.  Be the cool uncle instead of one that gives us boring rules," Steph said.

"She's obviously never tasted your food," Natasha smiled, slipping into the room and standing on her tiptoes in socked feet to press a kiss to his cheek.  "But I agree, I want to try the pancakes Cassandra recommends and find out why you went to see your ex without prior warning."

"We're still friends even if we're not boyfriends," Steve reminded her.

Natasha hummed, plucking the diner menu from the fridge.  "For the record, Tim, I have no personal interest in your father but my boss sends an agent to Gotham every year to prove to those ARGUS assholes that he can get in if he wants."

"How do you get a regular invite if not from Bruce?" Tim asked.

"I'm not giving you my contacts, but if you run into Catwoman, tell her a spider says hello," Natasha said.

Steve rattled the menu in her hand.  "Go take the orders and stop stressing out Tim, he's on vacation."

She rolled her eyes and winked at him.  "I was just confirming I wasn't trying to seduce his father for money.  He's a baby businessman, probably doesn't even know who Catwoman is."

"Right," Steph and Tim nodded in unison but he was sure they knew who Catwoman was even if he didn't.  He'd have to ask Alfred.

Chapter Text

"Thanks for coming, I miss you," Steve told Natasha when they were mid-way through the second movie.

"I miss you too, but I should be thanking you.  Look at her, making friends outside of an op - I can't even do that," Nat replied, watching Yelena, Cass and Steph whispering and signing to each other.

Tim wasn't snoring, but he'd been asleep since the intro of the first movie and Steph warned him off moving him to a bed if he was already comfortable.

"Maybe you work too much to form connections in your real name.  If you even have a real name," he teased.

She elbowed him hard in the ribs.

Yelena moved couches to perch on Steve's knee and face her sister.  "I want to do a sweep of the neighborhood."

"You want to go play with your friends," Natasha interpreted.

"I am told there will be no play, but patrol," Yelena replied.  "You will have private time to lecture your Captain, he will watch over the sleeping boy and we will patrol.  Yes?"

"You don't need her permission but she's glad you asked," Steve answered, ignoring Nat's eyeroll.

Yelena pressed a kiss to his cheek.  "I do not want to meet you when you are angry."

"She's right, you're way too soft to be a big bad superhero," Natasha echoed, kissing his opposite cheek when Yelena moved to grab her bag.

"You are all giving me gross girl germs," Steve said but he's pleased Nat's sister approved of him.  

"Um, you don't need those," Stephanie said when Yelena brought out the handguns.

"Minimal violence for civilians, good rule," Nat nodded, nodding her chin toward her bag.  "Take my stingers."

Yelena's eyes went wide.  "Really?"

"If you break them, I'll never let you borrow my toys again, but - yes," Natasha sighed.  "Cover your face, too.  You don't want - whoever they are - to give you a bad reputation."

"There are some masks in the junk drawer in the kitchen - lost and found," Steve shrugged.  "Brought them from the old apartment and no, I have no idea who they belong to because it's none of my business."

"Big retired baby," Natasha snickered as Yelena hurried into the kitchen.

"I'm totally comfortable with being the friend you call for bail or backup without context.  HYDRA or Nazis - I want to know all about it, but anything else, just keep it to yourself unless you need help," Steve said.  "Retired."

"I thought HYDRA was taken care of years ago," Stephanie frowned.

"Sure, just like the Red Room was eliminated years ago, but Yelena's still finding Widows from all over," Natasha said, not hiding her bitterness.

"You are welcome to join me in the hunt, if you weren't always busy saving the stupid world," Yelena said, returning with a black mask that pulled down to her nose.  "There are no eye-holes in this."

Steve took it from her and slipped one of Natasha's knives from her hidden pockets so he could snip two slots before passing it back.

"He won't even notice if he ever takes it back," Steve shrugged when Nat gave him a look.

Dick hadn't returned by the weekend but Steph, Cass and Tim took turns having dinner with him while they were in town for 'unmentionable' reasons.

Alfred brought Damian for their scheduled goat sketching appointment and wasted no time bringing up his family's clandestine habits.  The handler was chatting with several of the yoga instructors on the other side of the observation window and Steve hoped they would ask before pulling out their camera phones.

"You don't have to tell me your secrets, Alfred, I'm doing really good staying out of other people's business so far," Steve tried to deflect.

"I fear you think of us as nefarious criminals," Alfred said as Damian settled with the largest cluster of friendly pygmy goats.

"Of course not.  White collar criminals, maybe, but not nefarious."

"We are very law-abiding," Damian offered.

"Great.  I'm glad it's not criminal stuff, Nat says those girls are top rate and she would worry about me if they were villains," Steve smiled.

"And you don't want to know - details?" Alfred asked, suspicion open on his face.

"Nope.  I mean, I can do basic field medicine if they need first aid - "

Damian spoke up.  "No thank you.  Barnes said you removed bullets in the trenches with rusty spoons."

"Did he really - I'm going to give him a piece of my mind about telling war stories to children," Steve groaned, barely managing not to face-palm.

"The Winter Soldier has a reputation and I expressed my doubt about a man of your - excessive humanity - as the actual merciless battlefield conquerer like the history books," Damian replied.  "But in the context of heroism in lieu of counting kills and counting saved lives - "

"Master Damian, I think that's enough," Alfred sighed, patting his hair.

"I am saving that discussion for when your father and that lying James Buchanan Barnes are here to witness," Steve said.

"I have exchanged several emails with James, he's quite concerned you're sinking into depression alone and abandoned in the wilderness of New Jersey," Alfred redirected the conversation.

"I'm not depressed or alone - he only stayed, like, one day, that's his own problem," Steve replied.  "I have lots of friends - not all of them are even part of your brood."

"Richard has failed to run thorough background checks or facial recognition on your visitors, I have notified Father," Damian stated.

"That's an invasion of privacy," Steve said.  "And you should trust me to choose my own friends - and stay out of my business like I stay out of yours."

Damian seemed to consider it.  "I will take it under advisement but no promises."

"That's all we ask," Alfred said, giving Steve an amused look that reassured him (slightly).

He managed to get a few good sketches of Damian and Alfred, and a couple of the tiny goats before the owner of the gym hurried into the room.  "Um, Captain Rogers, there's - someone outside for you."

He had been so focused on the observation window that he'd barely glanced through the window looking onto the street, or maybe he would have seen Thor when he dented the sidewalk on his landing.

"I'll totally pay for that," he told the owner, hurrying outside.  "Thor, you're back?"

"Captain!" The hug took his breath like always but he was glad to see Thor, like always.  "I have many stories and updates from our valiant Guardians of the Galaxy - alas, I must beg help from you first as there is a great danger to Midgard."

Steve stepped back and searched his friend's face.  "What kind of danger?"

"He is retired, he has no place in your battle," Damian's voice interrupted.

Thor moved forward and picked the boy up.  "A small dark-haired child that openly wishes me dead - he reminds me of my dear brother."  He held Damian out with both arms and scanned him sadly.  "It has been far too long - "

Steve quickly took Damian from Thor before he fully unsheathed the blade hidden in his tiny sleeves.  "Sorry, Dami, Thor forgets manners when he's off-world for too long, please forgive him."

"I mean no insult to your honor, Small Warrior, but I require my shield-brother's help and guidance most urgently.  Steven - "

"Of course I'll help, but if you need the whole team you have to call Tony, I'm backup team."

Thor's face twisted with distaste.  "By who's order, I will follow no other - "

Steve turned to Alfred.  "I'm so sorry, but I need to handle this."  He crouched down to Damian's level.  "Can you take my supplies and sketchpad back to Dick's?"

"Of course, but - " Damian leaned past him to glare at Thor.  "Are you certain he cannot resolve the situation without you?"

"He is not like my other friends, he rarely shares the 'glory of battle' unless he has no other choice."

Weirdly, his choice of words satisfied the child and he promised Alfred he would let them both know when he got back.

Thor drifted to the window where all the goats were gathered against the glass on their hind legs bleating at him.  "What curse has befallen these noble steeds?"

"Uh, I'll introduce you to the goats later, do you want - "

"Of course, let us gather our friends," Thor said, looping his arm around his waist and raising his hammer.

Dr. Banner's voice broke into his nap.  "He just needs to eat, the serum will take care of the rest but he's gotta have fuel."

"Oh wow, no wonder he's always eating, we thought it was part of his bodybuilding regimen."  Jason.

He blinked awake and refamiliarized himself with the ceiling of his apartment.  "Did I pass out on the plane?"

"Maxed out at three days without food this time, and yes, we're going to talk about this again," Tony said, filling his vision.

"Please no - " Steve groaned, pushing himself to a sitting position.  Banner immediately stuck a thermometer in his ear and a bottle of water in his hand.

"Orders placed, on your ex's tab because I'm sure this is his fault," Bruce Wayne said.  Steve wondered why he was in his apartment.

"You wanna go, Bro?" Tony bristled.  "Because we can take this - "

"Stop it," Steve sighed, draining the bottle.

Dick crouched in front of him.  "One, this is not how retirement works, two, did you really not eat for three days?"

"It was a little - disorganized," Steve admitted, glaring at Banner when he waved the glucometer at him.  "Can you stop with the science?".

"Nope," Banner replied.  Dick caught his hand and held it still for the fingerstick..

"Traitor," Steve frowned.

"Nah, just a worried friend.  Your gigantic team and Stark totally interrupted a family argument so we had to investigate," Dick smiled.  "Alfred's quite unhappy with you - the battle even made the news in Gotham."

"Thor's distracting the rest of your neighbors outside, but these guys forced their way in," Banner offered helpfully.

"Oh no," Steve realized.  "Did Marco - "

"See you throw your customized motorcycle at a tentacle monster?  Oh yeah, the whole world saw and while he's grateful for the free advertising, he's pretty upset about the bike," Dick said.  "Why did it explode?"

Steve caught Tony's gaze and he laughed.  "Commandos gave up on convincing him to stop throwing vehicles in battle in the 40's but I decided to at least make them explosive if he was going to sling them at bad guys."

"No double vision or dizziness?" Banner asked.

Steve's stomach rumbled loudly in response.  "No, think I'm just hungry."

"Go intercept the pizzas so Thor doesn't eat them all, you know he will," Tony directed Banner, holding several opened protein bars out to Steve.  "I know you hate them, but none of our other finicky eaters fainted like a damsel on the jet."

"Yuck," he said but obediently ate the dry, gross 'protein'.  "Soylent Green is people."

"Where's the Wayne I like?  Wait, aren't you dead?  I specifically remember sending a donation to whales or something for you - no, not whales, orphans - " Tony snapped his finger at Jason.

Jason threw up both hands in Bruce's direction.  "See - that's what I'm fucking talking about, even Tony Stark knows I'm dead, you can't just *decide* to take it back."

"Sure you can, we got a guy for that," Tony said.

Steve swallowed the last bite of the gross nutrition bar.  "You know he hates when we send him zombie referrals."

Tony rolled his eyes.  "He has coffee with Vision twice a month and he doesn't even have a heartbeat."

"Don't get involved in their family drama when I have my own.  How much news did we make and am I going to have to move again?" Steve asked.

"Well, as much as I'd love for you to move back into the Tower, I have to remind you of the top rate publicity team assigned to keep you retired and invisible," he said.  "So yes, giant tentacle monsters are all over the news and the Avengers called in their auxiliary squad with you on it - but you can pig out, sleep for a couple of days and get right back to slumming it here in Jersey."

He opened his mouth but Jason spoke up.  "I guess he means he's got a guy for that, too."

Steve kept his eyes locked on Tony.  "You promise?"

"One of the reasons you left the city was because of your obsession with privacy, which is why I don't understand your obsession with another famous family right out of the gate," Tony said, glaring at Bruce.

"Why do you hate me, do you even know?" Bruce snapped.

"You sent Pepper a dick pic, like a loser, get with the times and leak a sex tape like a real man," Tony snapped back.

Jason and Dick both barked laughs and covered their mouths in unison.

"It's a stock photo, because I obviously have a higher paid publicity team working for me," Bruce fired back.

The door opened and Steve gave up on sorting out all the distracting drama and focused fully on the tower of pizza boxes.

Chapter Text

Steve held out the last empty pizza box for recycling and allowed himself to relax.

"Better now?" Jason asked.

"Much.  Where is everyone?" Steve glanced around his mostly emptied apartment.

"Your buddy, Thor, decided to kidnap a bunch of baby goats so everyone cleared out to defuse the situation.  What is up with that big green guy, is he always like that?"

"Really nice or green?"

"Both!" Jason confirmed.  "We thought the Hulk was some giant angry monster, not - a polite scientist."

"He's come a long way," Steve smiled.  "Stopped trying to restrain his inner rage and figured out how to integrate it into his personality.  When did you and Dick get back?"

"Yesterday," Jason whispered and he could tell he'd missed a cue somewhere.

Steve leaned forward.  "What did I say wrong?"

"Sorry," the kid shook it off.  "I got some of that 'inner rage' going on, just - "

"Your eyes go a different color green than his, pretty sure you're not hiding a hulk, plus, you're a regular squishy mortal like the rest of your family," Steve said, earning a glare.

"I'm a killer."

Ah.  "And you weren't before the green?  Is this about the whole 'legally dead' thing?"

A shrug, but enough for him.  "But you were still a part of whatever mess your family's into, just not with the fatalities?"

"Alfred said you wanted to have plausible deniability, but yeah," Jason sighed.  "I don't want to be announced - alive again if - I don't have a handle on my whole - green problem.  I need B to back off."

"Have you told him about the - problem?  Or are you just telling him the censored version?"

Another shrug.  "When I died, it set off this huge ripple effect, right?  And - when I came back to life, they don't know what it was like.  To them, it's this amazing miracle but - there's so much - so much they don't know."

"You're a fucking kid," Steve said, scrubbing a hand over his face.  "I need a head count, you can help me cook for all these people."

Jason blinked at him.  "You're not serious."

"And I need to call Bucky, and Alfred, who knows what you guys have been telling them."  

He patted the kid on the shoulder and pulled him to his feet in the same motion.  "I didn't come out of my resurrrection with blood on my hands, but Bucky did.  When I found out he was alive, I didn't care about the 'brainwashed' and 'programmed assassin' parts of the story, just the alive part."

He gave Jason a sheet pan and held his gaze.  "All I saw was my best friend with a second chance - all everyone else saw was the wanted assassin who killed Tony's parents and may have been the guy on the grassy knoll."

"So - I might have more in common with your father in this situation - but Bucky finally sat me down - knocked me down," Steve edited, remembering the sucker punch from that metal fist.  "And made me listen."

"To him - I was a faded memory, barely a blink in the years after he was 'wiped.  Said that my expectations for him to remember were too high, and if I really wanted to help I would try to make friends with the man he is now because he'd never remember the man he was then."

Jason stared at him.

"We didn't communicate the way we used to," Steve shrugged.  "He had been through too much and I hadn't been through enough - but we put in the work and - now we're back to brothers."

"He didn't want to put in the work before, and - maybe I'm still putting in the work on myself and don't need the hassle," Jason said.

"Right now, but you might need it later.  You're too close with your siblings not to run into the guy.  I mean, I don't like him but he keeps turning up everywhere," Steve said, conveniently as the door opened.

"Tony took your friends back to the Tower, courtesy of the unfriendly Bludhaven PD," Dick said.  "They're starting a kickstarter to get you a new bike."

"They agree with me that the Avengers are bad influences on the neighborhood," Bruce added.

"I'm still cooking all the food," Steve warned Jason before turning back to the other guests.  "Bruce - we need to have a chat."

Steve appreciated the flash of panic on the man's face.  

"You cannot keep coming here to start fights with your kids.  If Dick's not home to let you in, or doesn't choose to invite you inside - you are welcome to wait here - but not yelling in the streets or where the neighbors can hear you.  It's entirely - improper."

"There are phones that can send text messages or phone calls and - how do you even have this much free time?" Steve added in frustration.

"When I can't find my kids, I know they're here," Bruce sighed.  "They go to Dick with everything, never to me and - "

"We didn't go to you before, it's not - " Jason interrupted.

"Damian would barely look at me before, you were still trying to kill me and Dick - I feel like I'm trying to co-parent with my son - "

Dick let out a groan, throwing up his hands.  "I don't want to co-parent - I want to keep a job and go on dates and not have to negotiate arguments every five minutes - I gave up everything when you were dead - "

"I'm sorry - " Bruce started, but Steve whistled sharply.  

"If you raise your voices again I'm calling Alfred," Steve said.  "Dick, take those pizza boxes to the recycling bin - Bruce, wash your hands and help Jason with the mise en place."

"You can't let Bruce cook," Jason and Dick said together.

"You all have your orders," Steve frowned and everyone fell into position.