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cuthian · 4 years

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Dancing in the Rain Chapter One

Welcome to the piece you've all been waiting for so very patiently!

This piece /can/ be read as a standalone piece, but should you have any questions if you do, be sure to ask in the comments, I'll reply as soon as I can :)

This entire work has been written and edited already, and will be updated on Mondays :D

As always, much thanks to Juulna for putting up with me!

Lots of love, Annaelle

Dancing in the Rain

Life is not about how you survive the storm It is about how you dance in the rain —Unknown author

Chapter One

REBECCA BARNES RESIGNS AS EARTH’S AMBASSADOR TO ASGARD AFTER PREGNANCY LEAK

Move comes only days after The New York Times published an article ‘outing’ Rebecca Barnes’ pregnancy, based on the say-so of Barnes’ former obstetrician, who says she was fired after Barnes filed a baseless complaint about the care she provided.

In a move that was predicted by several political experts following the tell-all article, Rebecca Barnes confirmed today that she would be resigning from her post as Earth’s Ambassador to Asgard—less than a year after her initial appointment. […]Ambassador Rebecca Barnes’ decision today came after several politicians from across the globe expressed their concern about Barnes’ ability to remain impartial and to represent Earth.

Barnes released a pre-recorded statement, in which she confirms that she is, indeed, pregnant, and that she will be stepping down from her post as ambassador. […]also distances herself from the statements made by her former obstetrician, confirming she chose to switch to a different doctor due to irreconcilable differences in opinion.

“I have always taken [her duties as ambassador] very seriously,” Barnes said in her statement, “and it is with a heavy heart but a clear conscience that I now resign from those duties. My relationship with the Aesir now runs far deeper and more intimately than anyone thought it would, and as such, there would always be a fear that my opinions and actions would be biased. This can be a very good thing, but it’s also only right that we do the correct thing and have an Earth-focused ambassador. Someone focused on the big picture instead of… well, instead of the small, the personal.”

[…]mixed response to Barnes’ announcement and resignation. Various media outlets have latched onto the story and have begun spinning various iterations of the same question: now that Barnes is—most likely—expecting long-term boyfriend and Prince of Asgard’s first child, will the couple finally be tying the knot? And, if so, does that make Barnes the first human princess of Asgard? Will their child(ren) be recognized as an heir to the Asgardian throne?

“[…]must be something in the water over at the Avengers Tower,” talk show host Jay Leno also joked during his latest broadcast. “First Potts, now Barnes—what’s next, Captain America going for his daily Central Park run with a stroller?”

Leno’s remarks were likely partially inspired by recent pictures of Captain America reading “What to Expect when You’re Expecting” and other varied baby books in several coffee shops and parks across Manhattan and Brooklyn, and tweets by Pepper Potts detailing the Captain’s dedication to helping her out however he can, more so than even her own partners.

[…]not clear when a replacement ambassador will be elected. There is much discussion amongst the various governments of the world about which government, if any single one, should be allowed to elect one of their own, or if the many governments of the world should form a council of representatives not unlike the European Union or the United Nations solely dedicated to communications and relations with extra-terrestrial nations.

—Max Colchester and Jason Douglas, The New York Times, “Rebecca Barnes Resigns as Ambassador”, January 2016

——————

Chicago, Illinois, United States of America April 12

, 2016 Steve

“Captain America!”

“Captain America, a statement, please?”

“Captain America, anything to say to reports that the Avengers orchestrated this attack to be able to save the day again, to get good press going for them?”

“Captain, any word on why Thor hasn’t joined the fight today?”

“Captain, captain, is it true Thor has threatened to cut ties with Earth if Rebecca Barnes’ child really is yours instead of his?”

There were a passel of shouting reporters standing by the barricades, barely held back by several police officers in—somehow—pristine blue uniforms, cameras flashing and microphones held out as far as they were able to reach.

Steve heaved a sigh, unclipping his helmet and running a hand through his dirty, sweat-soaked hair before he chanced a look at himself. He was covered from head to toe in fine dust and dirt, splashes of blood streaking across his thighs and chest—that seemed about right.

The giant insects that some wannabe supervillain had set loose on an unsuspecting Chicago had been hardy and mean, and it had taken him and the other Avengers—minus Becca, who’d been benched as soon as they all learned she was pregnant and was now holed up in the Tower with Pepper, shouting at them over the comms, and Thor, who had been called back to Asgard—well over seven hours of constant fighting to exterminate them all, even after Natasha had gotten her hands on said wannabe supervillain.

He was tired, he was sweaty and covered in dirt and blood, and all he wanted was to go home to the Tower and take a hot shower and then sleep for twelve hours—but someone had to talk to the media, and it looked like it was going to be him.

He sighed again and trudged towards the reporters, mentally trying to brace himself for the vastly inane questions he’d be getting about his supposed love affair with Becca that had now culminated in her pregnancy and his passionate tryst with Pepper, that had somehow also resulted in pregnancy.

Because apparently, in the twenty-first century, it seemed entirely implausible to the reporters that people actually remained faithful to their partners, rather than sleep around with the first reasonably attractive person in the near vicinity.

It was ridiculous.

Pepper had told him to ignore the rumours, that they’d go away as soon as the next big news broke, but it bothered him nonetheless. He didn’t like that people thought he was the kind of person that was okay with cheating on his friends, didn’t like that people thought him capable of something like that—and he hated most of all that the media still insisted on pairing him only with women.

It wasn’t like he was being subtle, or that his bisexuality was a secret.

He went to Pride parades dressed in a Captain Bi-merica suit every year, volunteered at several LGBT+ shelters and donated almost half of his Avengers income to various charities dedicated to at-risk LGBT youth. Everyone in his life knew that he and Bucky had been together, and everyone in the war had known too—even Peggy had known.

It’d been the worst kept secret in the U.S. Army—Captain America and Bucky Barnes were queer for each other, and entirely unapologetic about it too.

He wasn’t sure how that tidbit of knowledge had gotten lost over time when they remembered the fucking song.

The shouting got more frantic the closer he got, and he narrowly resisted the urge to turn on his heel and run the other way as fast as his serum-enhanced legs could carry him.

“Everybody,” he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the din. “I don’t have much time before I’m needed back, but I can tell you that we have successfully contained the threat and have taken the culprit into custody. We are currently coordinating relief efforts for affected families with local authorities. We expect displaced families to be able to return to their homes sometime tomorrow.”

“Captain,” one of the bottle-blonde women with far too much make-up caked on her cheeks demanded, “Is it true this attack was orchestrated by S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers to round up more sympathetic press in the wake of your scandalous affair and love child with Rebecca Barnes and Pepper Potts?”

Steve blinked at her.

“Tell me you're shitting me,” he deadpanned, barely even registering the way all of the reporters gasped. “Fifteen people lost their lives today,” he continued, maintaining direct eye contact with the woman who’d asked this fucking stupid question. “Fifteen people. Do you even know their names? I do. And I’m going to remember them for the rest of my life, because we didn’t get here fast enough—and not because of some imaginary sex scandal that exists absolutely nowhere but in your imagination, but because we’re only human too. We’re not here for better press, we’re here to make sure that those fifteen people are avenged. We’re here to make sure that no one else falls victim to one person’s greed, one person’s anger. Not because you’ve somehow got it in your head that I’ve been sleeping with the girl that may as well have been my own niece, if Bucky hadn’t died and if I hadn’t gone in the ice, and if I’d been allowed to keep the love of my life.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in, even for him, and though he wanted to groan and curse himself for losing his temper, he stood by his words.

He'd pretended to be their perfect little soldier—a dancing monkey—long enough.

He was fucking done.

He shot the wide-eyed, stunned woman an icy glare and said, “No further comment,” before he turned on his heel and walked away the way he’d come.

——————————

Cuthian:

Uuuhhhmmm… So tell me someone else saw this interview with Cap today?!?! @juuls, @betheflame ARE YOU SEEING THIS?

juuls:

YES @cuthian, I’m definitely seeing this. HOLY CRAP. We called it—we SO called it.

betheflame:

I SAID he’d slip it in during an interview! I WIN THE BET!

KlaudiaForPresident:

I’m so glad that we have someone as good and morally strong as Steve Rogers to represent us finally, but can we please talk about the way he was basically bullied into coming out of the closet?

There’s no way he felt comfortable sharing something so personal like this—just look at his face at 4:33, he said it in the heat of the moment, not because he was planning to tell us; and why would he?

It’s not like the media has been kind to him about his personal relationships since he’s been in the future. He’s been linked to nearly everyone he’s ever had a conversation with, and we need to acknowledge that that’s not cool.

Imagine how UNCOMFORTABLE it must be for him to constantly have to defend that he’s not sleeping with a girl he sees as a little sister, or a cousin—family.

Let’s just let him have his privacy, okay?

Even if we’re all ecstatic that he’s admitted his—potential—bisexuality, let’s not forget that he still lost the person he saw as the love of his life. He’s probably still grieving.

Let’s allow him to grieve and not push.

#Captainbimerica #stucky #totallycalledit #birepresentation #thisismycaptain #captainamerica #psa #leavethepoormanalone #mediasucks

——————

Lagos, NigeriaApril 15

, 2016 Steve

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he told Becca after he’d switched his comm to their private channel, watching as Wanda, Nat, and Pietro moved into position on the small square between the Center of Infectious Diseases and the local police station. “Feels too easy.”

Becca hummed in agreement, and Steve didn’t need to see her to know she was sitting cross-legged on one of the extra-wide, extra-comfortable desk chairs Tony had designed especially for Pepper and Becca, frowning at her screen, keeping an eye on the security footage the same as him. She’d been on desk duty since she’d hit twelve weeks in the pregnancy, when the small but unmistakable baby bump became visible to everyone.

Thor had—understandably—been entirely unable to focus on the battles they fought while Becca was still in the field with them, and after he’d taken a harpoon to the arm because he’d been too busy covering Becca to cover his own ass, the rest of the team had voted unanimously to have Becca on desk duty for the rest of her pregnancy.

Becca, while grumpy, had not put up much of a fight about it.

“I’ve ran all the background checks imaginable on our informant though,” she replied calmly. “Nat and I went over all of the intel with a fine-tooth comb. It’s legit, Steve, you know that.”

Steve harrumphed grumpily and crossed his arms over his chest. “That doesn’t mean it’s not a trap,” he retorted, watching as Wanda ordered a cup of tea, keeping her—by now recognisable—face covered with the clever sweep of her hair and the slightly dramatic make-up she and Natasha had spent almost an hour applying. Pietro was hovering just out of sight in the alleyway, nearly vibrating out of his skin, as he always did when he had to stand still for longer than a few minutes.

“Oh, it’s definitely a trap,” Becca said in his ear cheerfully. “But that just means we’re making them nervous—means we’re closer than we thought we were.”

Steve sighed.

She was right, of course. The intel had come rather unexpectedly—while they’d been able to clear Sharon of the murder she’d been accused of, it’d been more by chance than by design of any kind. They’d stumbled across footage of Sharon at a gas station nearly forty miles away at the time of the murder, and through the footage several witnesses who swore she’d been there.

The matter had been dropped relatively quickly after that.

Still, whoever was running this show was good—good enough that Tony’s various algorithms and even J.A.R.V.I.S. hadn’t been able to pick up on much more than the vague pattern that Natasha had initially noticed. There were more cases like Sharon’s, and though the investigation against her had been dropped, and she had clearly had a lot of fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and all of the Avengers in her corner, there were a lot of rumors still flying around about Sharon’s supposed involvement with her informant’s untimely and rather gruesome death.

Steve still wasn’t sure how it’d benefit a shadowy terrorist organisation to discredit one agent—no matter how good Sharon was—but he assumed there was a reason.

There were at least half a dozen other cases that J.A.R.V.I.S. and Nat had flagged as suspicious that hit mysterious dead ends: one former A.I.M. scientist turned S.H.I.E.L.D. informant who’d been on the verge of revealing something big vanishing off the face of the Earth; a STRIKE team getting massacred after being given faulty information on an infiltration mission that should’ve been easy; and a U.S. senator who’d been known for her progressive style changing her tune entirely seemingly overnight…

Even the sudden suicide of a popular, if somewhat reclusive, wealthy murder mystery writer had pinged on their radars—the man had been researching the inner workings of police stations and its politics, and had, one week prior to his apparent suicide, rewritten his will to leave his entire family out of it, donating his entire estate, worth an estimated 60 million dollars, at least, to assorted police stations in his home state, and several police officers specifically.

Something was going on, on a large and likely unprecedented scale, and Steve wasn’t sure they were ready to figure out just how big this thing was.

They even had a mole in S.H.I.E.L.D.

One relatively high up the chain of command too, if the sort of information they had access to was any indication—Sharon’s real identity had been classified to hell and back for years. Her deep-cover missions were more intense than Natasha’s half the time, and she hadn’t gone by her own name for longer than a few weeks since she’d joined S.H.I.E.LD.

“All set,” Becca said quietly, breaking him from his musings, drawing his attention back to the security footage, showing Natasha having moved into position too.

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “Here we go.”

He switched back to their shared comms channel and watched as Wanda added a sugar packet to her teacup with calculated, graceful movements, stirring the spoon in the hot liquid before she sipped, taking the time to glance around the square surreptitiously as she did.

He barely suppressed a proud smile as she clocked several hidden gunmen—two of which he hadn’t noticed himself—and whispered their location to her brother, who moved to get them out of the way before anyone could so much as blink.

“Alright,” he said into the comms as soon as Pietro had taken the men out of commission. “Good job, guys. Wanda, keep going; what do you see?”

“Standard beat cops,” Wanda said slowly, talking into her cup so no one would see her lips move. “Small station, quiet street. Pretty good target, I can see why they picked it.”

Steve nodded. “There’s an ATM in the south corner, which means…”

“Cameras,” Wanda finished, glancing briefly towards the aforementioned corner before she returned her attention to the building in front of her. The info they’d gotten pointed to either the little police station or the Center for Infectious Diseases being hit by the as-of-yet nameless terrorist group they’d been chasing for the past six or so months.

Steve personally thought it’d be the CfID, not the little police station, but since the intel hadn’t been clear on it, they couldn’t risk losing their only chance to get their hands on whoever was planning this.

Especially considering they couldn’t find anything more concrete than a vague suspicion that things weren’t adding up. They—Pepper—had negotiated their presence there with the Nigerian government, keeping their interference on the absolute downlow.

Not even S.H.I.E.L.D. had been told.

“Both cross streets are one way,” Becca added over the comms, and Steve watched as Wanda and Pietro, once again hidden in the shadows, checked the street reflexively.

“Compromised escape route,” Pietro muttered, accent thicker still than his sister’s.

Steve nodded along. “Yep. Means our guy doesn’t care about being seen—not afraid to make a mess on the way out. A big departure from their usual M.O.”

It was true—these guys seemed to operate entirely from the shadows in every other way, and Steve wasn’t sure what it meant for them if they decided they were ready to step out of said shadows.

“It’s suspicious,” Becca insisted. “See that Range Rover halfway up the block, Wanda?”

“Yeah, the red one?” Wanda sipped her tea again. “It’s cute.”

Nat chuckled across the comms and said, “It’s also bulletproof. Probably private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for someone—probably us.”

“Plates aren’t registered,” Becca piped in. “J.A.R.V.I.S. is hacking into a few more databases to see if he can find that make and model listed anywhere, but it’s slow-going.” She huffed in annoyance. “There’s way too many red Range Rovers in Nigeria, what the hell.”

“Eyes on the target,” Steve reminded them sternly. “This is the best lead we’ve had in months. I don’t want to lose it.”

“Aye aye cap’n,” Natasha quipped semi-seriously, and Steve laughed along with the others despite himself.

“Tony’s almost there, in case you guys need him,” Becca reminded them, “and he’s being whiny about not being on the same comms channel, so if I let him in, will you play nice?”

Steve gasped playfully. “Why, Becca, I’m offended by the implication. I always play nice.”

“You’re a little shit, Rogers,” Becca told him, before something clicked and Tony’s voice became audible. “—and I mean, I can totally dig the seriousness of this mission, I’m cool, I’m just saying a little AC/DC never hurt anyone.”

“A little AC/DC would definitely hurt now,” Steve replied, eyeing the street before him again.

“Capsicle!” Tony exclaimed. “Congrats on the coming out! Papers are all over it. The U.S. is losing its shit. I applaud you, my good man. I’ll order you a cake when we get home. Bi-pride colors and everything. We can invite Aunt Peg and Aunt Becky. Also, I think FOX News is having a meltdown. Or going on lockdown. Not sure which would be more entertaining, honestly,” he hummed happily.

Steve stopped short. “What?”

“What?” Natasha and Wanda and Pietro echoed.

“Right,” Becca said slowly. “You left right after Chicago.”

Steve’s stomach sank. “Oh, fuck,” he said empathically.

Tony gasped theatrically. “Captain, language.”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve bit out, before sighing and rubbing a hand over his forehead. “How much of a headache is this gonna be? It just kinda slipped out.”

“Eh,” Tony said, surprisingly gentle. “I’ve caused bigger headaches. I think the conservative, racist part of the country is having a meltdown, because they can’t use you as a poster-boy for their ass backwards shit anymore, but most people are cool with it. Applauding you for being brave enough to come out for who you and Barnes were—and talking shit about the reporter that bullied you into making that grandiose speech in the first place.”

Steve groaned.

“Steve,” Becca said quietly. “You’re fine. No one is going to judge you, and people that do are really not worth your time or your consideration.”

“Uh,” Tony said. “While I totally agree, and hate to break up the moment… There’s a large group of people moving in the CfID—like abnormally. I can only see heat signatures, but I’m willing to bet these guys are armed. I’m thinking our terrorists might already be here.”

“Becca,” Steve barked, moving out the door and down the stairs of their look-out apartment before Tony had even stopped talking.

“Hacking into security cams now,” Becca replied immediately.

“Pietro, get Natasha and Wanda inside,” Steve ordered. “Then come back for me. Don’t be seen.”

“Yep,” Pietro said shortly, and Steve heard the slight rush of fast-moving air as the boy started moving.

By the time Steve’d reached street level, the other three were gone, and he barely had time to blink before Pietro blurred back into sight before him, grinning wildly. “Ready, Captain?” he asked, before putting his hands on Steve’s shoulders and moving.

The world blurred and moved, and his head spun wildly before Pietro came to a stop, hidden behind a large pillar, only a few feet from where Nat and Wanda stood, readying themselves for a fight.

Nat’s Widow’s Bites were sparking, and Wanda’s hands were already encased with that tell-tale ominous red energy. Steve checked that the straps of his shield were tight enough on his arm, and then nodded at the two women. “Definitely body armor. Possibly AR-15s—likely hand guns and knives too. I make seven hostiles,” he whispered, glancing towards the men dressed in black tac gear.

Natasha huffed and moved forwards, launching herself into the air by a graceful jump off a chair—she landed on two of the men, taking them down in a tangle of limbs and electric current, their choked off screams echoing eerily in the building.

Steve moved before the other men had had the chance to react to Nat’s sudden attack, lobbing the shield towards two of the other men, who had raised their guns to Nat immediately, knocking both of them clean off their feet. The man that stood next to them shouted in alarm, but before he could do so much as raise his gun, he was tackled to the ground by a blur of movement, and then fastened in place by an eerie red glow that spread, quickly, to encompass all other men, freezing their limbs in place.

“Good job,” Steve told Wanda when she appeared from behind the relative safety of the pillar, eyes glowing as red as the mist encompassing her hands.

“I can’t hold them long,” she told him calmly. “Natasha, you should cuff them so I can let go.”

Natasha was already moving, pulling handcuffs from wherever she managed to stash them in her skin tight outfit, when someone let out a strangled, “Stop!”

Steve spun around, finding one of the men had managed to move enough to pull his helmet off, revealing—

“Brock?” Steve said incredulously.

“What?” Becca demanded in his ear, as Natasha stepped up beside him, eyeing Brock Rumlow, who was held immobile by Wanda’s red magic in what looked like a very uncomfortable position, with a considering expression.

“What the fuck?” the other man demanded when Wanda released him after Steve nodded at her, collapsing on his knees before he managed to steady himself. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” Natasha countered. “No one is supposed to be here.”

“We got a tip,” Rumlow spat. “Jesus, Romanoff, we’re meant to catch some terrorist group that the higher ups are really interested in. You better fucking hope you didn’t scare them away! Now fucking let my STRIKE guys loose.” He glared at Wanda, who bit her lip and looked at Steve first, waiting for his approval before she did as Rumlow said and released the other men.

A chorus of groans and muffled curses followed their release, and a small part of Steve felt a little smug that Wanda had been able to keep at least ten guys—a full fucking STRIKE team—down without visibly breaking a sweat.

Take that, every asshole who ever dared imply she didn’t deserve her spot on the team.

“He’s telling the truth,” Becca said hesitantly. “I’ve got the paperwork here. J.A.R.V.I.S. just hacked into the S.H.I.E.L.D. servers. Orders came straight from Maria—probably from Fury or Pierce before it came to her. It looks legit, Steve. They got the same tip we did.”

Steve exchanged a glance with Natasha, who had her arms crossed over her chest, staring down each of Rumlow’s STRIKE guys with a blank expression that he knew was tailor-made to scare the shit out of even the bravest of men. Judging by their expressions, Rumlow’s guys may not be the bravest of men.

She just lifted one eyebrow at him, and Becca suggested, “Maybe tell him some of the truth?”

Steve exhaled slowly.

“We also got a tip,” he told Rumlow. “Couple of hours ago. It came directly to us, seemed urgent. We contacted the Nigerian government directly and flew in. We didn’t want to risk losing these guys.”

Rumlow scoffed. “So urgent you couldn’t notify S.H.I.E.L.D. at all?”

“Tell him we told Fury,” Tony butted in. “Becca, J.A.R.V.I.S. will make it happen.”

Steve didn’t question their decision to fudge the truth. They’d established Avengers Black Op on this entire mission for a reason, and much as Steve enjoyed beating the man up during his mandatory hand-to-hand combat sessions, Brock did not make the cut for trusted individuals.

Not even Sharon had made the cut.

“We notified Fury,” he said, shrugging. “Didn’t hear back from him, and the Nigerian government had already given us permission to be here, so…”

“Damn it. They should’ve run it through us, man,” Brock grumbled. “Could’ve saved us this whole thing.” He glanced toward the two men Steve had knocked to the ground and the man Nat had tased with her Widow’s bites, and groaned. “Paperwork’s going to be a bitch.”

Steve hung his head.

He hated to say it, but Brock was right, damn it.

“Get them out,” Rumlow told Rollins, who Steve had worked with on occasion, and a fresh-faced kid who was likely a new recruit, gesturing to the three men that were still on the floor. “Make sure they get medical attention and that you’re not seen.” He glanced towards Steve and the others and heaved a sigh, “tell Hill we got back up from the Avengers.”

“Actually,” Becca drawled, “Hill just sent me an Avengers Assemble alert. Looks like there’s… something going on a couple of miles from where you guys are. Some guy called…” she hesitated and then snorted, “Killmonger? I dunno, he’s American special ops, but he called in for help not even a minute ago, something about a crazy man with voodoo powers taking out his whole team. We’re the closest back-up he’s got.”

Steve groaned. “Alright. Tony, fly ahead, scope out the situation, see what’s what. Pietro—”

“Aye aye, Cap,” the young man quipped, before pressing a lightning quick kiss to his sister’s cheek and blurring out of sight.

“We got an Assemble alert,” he told Rumlow reluctantly. “Becca’s informed S.H.I.E.L.D. you need more back-up, but if anything goes sideways, hail us, yeah? Pietro or Stark can be here before you can even blink if you need them.”

Rumlow nodded. “Yeah. Let’s hope we haven’t managed to chase away our mark.”

“Let’s hope not,” Steve agreed, before turning to Nat and Wanda, nodding his head towards the exit.

He wasn’t sure how they’d managed to get their wires crossed so intensely, because he could’ve sworn J.A.R.V.I.S. had checked S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database for similar tips beforehand, but there wasn’t anything for it now. There was possibly something more going on, someone playing them all, pulling on their strings like they were nothing but puppets, but he didn’t have time to figure it out now.

Someone needed their help.

Rumlow, S.H.I.E.L.D., and everything else could wait.

———————

Fox News (@FoxNews) 36 min.

BREAKING: Captain America comes out of the closet? Has this national hero been lying to the country, or did he simply misspeak? Surely @captainRogers will clarify this misunderstanding soon.

Steve Rogers — Captain America (@CaptainRogers) 2 min.

@FoxNews Did I fucking stutter?

———————

Brooklyn V.A. Medical center, Brooklyn, New York, United States of America

April 20

, 2016Steve

Steve just barely managed to squeeze himself into the tiny little bathroom stall of the V.A. center with Becca, gamely holding his breath as well as Becca’s hair as she retched into the toilet after an unfortunate incident involving the snack table for the meeting and a stray sandwich with blue cheese.

“Ugh,” Becca groaned miserably, leaning back and wiping her mouth on a wad of toilet paper before dropping it in the toilet and flushing it. “I thought this part was supposed to be over.”

Steve smiled lightly and tugged her close so her head could rest back against his shoulder.

“From what I remember,” Steve said slowly, keeping his voice level and calm to help Becca calm down—because he remembered how much throwing up triggered Becca sometimes, and he knew how difficult the first few weeks of the pregnancy had been for her, how relieved she’d been when the morning sickness had finally abated—rubbing his hand over the swell of her stomach softly. “It can come up any time. My mom used to say it was because your senses are heightened, primed to notice anything that could be a danger to the baby.”

“That’s a nice thought, actually,” Becca nodded. “I don’t think I mind being sick if it keeps the baby safe.”

Steve smiled and leaned his cheek against Becca’s temple. “Well, I hope for your sake that you don’t have to be sick anymore.”

“Me too,” Becca hummed.

They sat quietly for a few more minutes before Becca gasped, suddenly, looking down at her belly with wide eyes. “Look,” she told him urgently, tugging on his arm urgently until he moved, and they were sitting opposite one another with their backs against the walls of the stall, Becca’s legs curled underneath her and Steve’s awkwardly stretched out.

Becca pulled up her shirt a little, revealing the pale expanse of her stomach, littered with little silvery stretch marks and a few dark, puckered marks that she tended to hide otherwise. Today, though, the marks seemed the last thing on Becca’s mind, because she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her stomach again, just next to her belly button. “Look,” she insisted.

Steve dropped his eyes to her stomach as well, and he couldn’t really stop the gasp that fell from his lips when, suddenly, the outline of what was clearly a tiny foot pressed out into Becca’s skin just above his fingertips, remaining there for a few seconds before it disappeared again. “Shit,” he laughed, looking up at his friend with a grin, “that’s so weird. And cool.” He looked down again, but the little foot did not make another appearance. “You’re actually growing a person in there,” he added breathlessly.

Becca snorted and shoved at him. “What, did you think I stuffed a watermelon under my shirt before now? You’ve felt them kick before.” She elbowed him in the side and chuckled, “You’ve read more of the parenting books than any of us have.”

“Well,” Steve spluttered, a little embarrassed, “yeah. But this is different.”

Becca laughed again, but it wasn’t mean or mocking, and Steve grinned too, despite himself.

“Steven? Rebecca?”

Thor’s voice was loud enough to drift through the walls even when he was clearly trying to be quiet, and Steve grinned at Becca when she perked up immediately.

“In here,” Steve said, raising his voice just a little—Thor’s hearing was just as good, if not better than Steve’s—as he moved to help Becca back to her feet.

Thor pushed open the door to the bathroom and leaned on the doorjamb, smiling at them lightly, although his forehead was creased into a slightly concerned frown. “Everyone alright?” he asked casually, reaching out to Becca as soon as she was within reach.

Becca grimaced but nodded, leaning into Thor’s touch gratefully. “Blue cheese,” she said, nose wrinkling in disgust, and Thor made a small sound of comprehension, needing no further explanation after the last time Becca had encountered blue cheese in the common room of the Tower, and instead rubbing his hand over her back in a soothing gesture.

“You ready, Steve?” Becca asked, turning back to him with a grin.

“Born ready,” he said confidently.

——————

Steve was absolutely not ready.

He fidgeted, his hands trembling just shy of imperceptibly when he took the microphone from Sam. The room was about as filled as it usually was for the Thursday V.A. meeting, but the thought of ‘sharing’ still reminded him of the feeling he’d had when Senator Brandt had first thrust him into the spotlight on a stage somewhere in Philadelphia, when he’d wanted nothing more than to run away, to hide so no one could see him ever again.

He’d been wishing to be seen for most of his life at that point, had wished that people would see and notice him, but it’d been nothing like he’d thought it would be.

He’d made a promise to Sam though, and he wasn’t going to back out.

Becca and Thor were tucked into a corner of the room, Thor’s hands absently rubbing across Becca’s belly while Becca smiled encouragingly. She’d shared with the group the previous week, and it’d broken Steve up to hear, first-hand, the things people had done to her—before, during and after her capture—but she hadn’t been the only one.

There’d been a young man, too young to have the same kind of shadows lingering behind his eyes that they all seemed to, who came up to her afterwards, who thanked her for sharing, and for reminding them that… that it was possible to build a life afterwards.

That it was possible to learn how to live and be happy again.

Steve had diligently pretended Becca wasn’t crying when they walked home, but he’d held her hand and hugged her close when she’d asked him to anyway.

He’d told himself that sharing what had happened to him might help someone else. He’d told Sam the same, and Sam had held him to it, inviting him up to speak after everyone who’d volunteered had had their chance to speak, because “No one wants to follow your act, Rogers.”

Steve swallowed thickly and glanced at the expectant, curious faces of their group. “Hi,” he finally said, voice cracking with nerves. “I’m sure all of you know who I am.” He grinned lightly and added, “I usually lurk in the back with my friend, eating all of the donuts, like the creepers we actually are.”

That got a couple of scattered laughs, and Becca shot him a thumbs up from her corner.

Steve exhaled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the lectern that stood at the front of the room. “I’m Steve,” he began. “I’m thirty-two, and I went to war when I was twenty-four, and sometimes it feels like I’ve never left it behind. Sometimes it feels like I never will.” There were a few understanding murmurs, and something loosened slightly in his chest.

He could do this.

“I went to war because I had to,” he continued, chewing on his lower lip. “Because there were good, healthy people dying on the front lines every day, fighting to defend us, our families, and I was dying anyway, so what right did I have to do any less than them?” He swallowed thickly. “I was dying anyway, and I wanted my death to have more meaning than my life had.”

The room had gone utterly silent, and Steve didn’t dare look up, for fear he’d lose his nerve.

“It’s a funny thing,” he continued, “to be so aware of your own mortality. I wasn’t even very angry about the unfairness of it anymore. Buck—my—the love of my life,” he admitted, still a little shy to be so public about something so private, “he was angry. He was the sweetest guy you’d ever meet, charming and handsome and kind, but he was so fucking angry at God and the universe and whatever else there was, because I was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do about it… and then they called him to war too.”

Steve blinked back a tear, a little startled by how emotional he felt, by how hard recalling the memories was. “And he went,” he said. “He went, and what else could I do than everything I could to either follow him, or to die trying?” He looked up, briefly catching Becca’s shiny eyes before his gaze fell to Sam. Sam, who’d supported him, who hadn’t let their rough start at a friendship get in the way—who understood in a way even Becca never had.

“The machine they used to give me all of this—” He gestured vaguely at his body. “It looked like a coffin.”

There were a few gasps from the group, but no one interrupted when he continued, “And I thought it would be mine. There had been seventeen test subjects before me.” He looked down. “I was the only one to ever survive, but I didn’t know that when I went in. I thought I was going to be number eighteen, the one they could hopefully learn from, so they could help people.”

“Obviously,” he said with a weak smile, “it worked. And I went, and I fought, tooth and nail, for the life I’d been real eager to leave behind, for Bucky and his sisters, for his family—my family. I fought for everyone that couldn’t, for everyone we’d already lost, and for once, I felt like a hero.” He stopped and looked down, noting that his hands were shaking so bad he could barely hold the microphone without hitting himself in the face.

“When Bucky—the mission we were on—” He shook his head and lowered the microphone, breathing in deeply to regain some measure of composure. Because, while no one here would judge him, he wouldn’t be able to finish if he let himself cry now. “He saved my life, like he always did, like he’d been doing since we were both four feet tall and getting into fights with people twice our size. I got knocked down and he picked up my shield, and—” Steve choked lightly, tears running down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them at bay. “We were both nearly blown off the side of the train,” he said hoarsely. “I thought—God, for a second, I thought I had him. He managed to hang on by a railing, and I was so close. His—his fingers brushed past mine when it broke off and he fell.”

The room was deathly silent, and when he looked up, he saw that several other people were nodding, crying, knowing. “I almost fell,” Steve admitted. “I almost fell too. Sometimes I wish I had.”

He was quiet for a few seconds before he whispered, “Grief… Grief is a funny thing. Grief shatters something inside of you that you didn’t know could shatter, and it seeps into the cracks, like water that slowly freezes, slowly expands into ice until it’s all you can feel—until you can’t even remember what it felt like to live without the cracks, without the grief filling up that space. I didn’t… after Bucky fell, I lost my mind a little. I froze… long before I put the Valkyrie in the ice. I fought, and I killed, and I didn’t care that I was doing it, because every single Hydra soldier was one that was responsible for the love of my life dying alone at the bottom of a ravine. The Valkyrie…” He shook his head and sighed. “Putting down the Valkyrie was a relief, because at least it meant that whatever was going to happen, Bucky would be waiting for me on the other side.”

He swallowed. “And then I woke up here. And whatever soul, whatever heart I had left, it shattered further; the grief, the ice spread further, because everyone was gone. Everyone I’d ever known, everyone I’d ever loved—even the country I’d died for. Everything.”

He exhaled shakily and looked up, meeting Becca’s teary gaze, and managing a weak smile.

“I made it through. I made it through because I still had family that needed me, that missed me, that knew me, and that refused to give up on me even when I had.” He deliberately looked at every member of their group. “Including the Valkyrie, I tried to take my own life six times. I tried to leave, tried to give up what Bucky had died to give me—and I still think about it sometimes. I’m not always okay. I sit out missions that I know will trigger me, I have three different therapists, and I have an unrelenting support network. I’m lucky—so many of us don’t have all of that. But I want you, at least, to know that you do as well. I’m just one man, even with my name and reputation, and there’s only so much I can do—but when any of us, any of you need support, even if it’s just a shoulder to cry on…”

He shrugged one shoulder and smiled. “They’re a lot bigger and stronger than they used to be. I promise there’s room to help you shoulder your burden. I want you to know that you have that support. I thought I had no one for the longest time, even surrounded by friends and family, and I don’t wish that feeling on anyone.”

He looked down again and sighed. “The ice… the grief doesn’t go away,” he admitted. “Not really. But you learn. You learn to breathe with it, rather than against it, you learn how to cope, even when you can’t understand, and that’s all anyone can ask of you. Even on days when it feels like you’ll never leave the war behind, even when things are at its bleakest, there’s going to be better days. There’s always people that’ll care, that’ll miss you, that’ll need you.”

He squared his jaw and promised, “And when you have no one, I’ll be your someone. We will be your people. We’ll miss you. We’ll need you, and we’ll drag you through hell, to show you how good life is on the other side. You’re never alone.”

——————

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: (1)

Dancing with a Limp:

(1) (2)

Chances:

(1)

Starting Over:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

#IHWSBY sequel #Dancing in the rain #DitR #Stucky fanfiction #stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Thor #Rebecca Barnes #Tony Stark #Natasha Romanov #Pepper Potts #Avengers Family #my writing #Lisa writes

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