NOTE: This is a fix for CATWS. There was something left undone, and I don't see Steve's character letting it go unfinished. After all, he cared enough to make Natasha take her feet down from the dash.
As he lay in the hospital bed waiting for his wounds to heal, Steve could hardly stop thinking about Bucky. He felt an urgency to go after him. Buck had been so vacant, barely even there at all under the torturous mental conditioning of the Winter Soldier. Only a few times had Steve been able to see a moment of confusion to know that Buck was still in there, somewhere.
Being laid up with perforated insides made Steve anxious to go. The longer he lay there helpless and useless, the farther Buck had to run. He was going to run. Steve knew it. It was Buck's long time habit since they were kids that if something was too much for him, he'd go off and disappear to think for a while. Used to, Steve could find him brooding in the old foundry. He didn't have a clue where Buck would run to now, but he knew he'd go to ground somewhere to think and try to get his head right.
Shield and Hydra were too much to think about right now. Stark and Hill were on it, with Natasha and Clint doing the legwork to round up all available loyal agents. God bless Pepper Potts. In the news coverage on his hospital room television, he could see her hand in preserving the legacy of the good things Shield had done, making sure the news networks distinguished between the original organization and the cancer that had eaten it from the inside.
He felt too angry and raw right now to deal with the administration of a new organization. Hill knew what she was doing, and Steve trusted her. She'd been right there in the take-down of the Insight carriers. With good people on point, it would all work itself out.
The one thing that he felt he had to do personally as soon as he could get up out of this bed was to go return the truck he'd borrowed. He and Nat had taken it from the mall parking lot. Somewhere somebody was missing their vehicle. What if they needed it to get to work? To get the kids to school?
Three days after the fall of Shield, Steve couldn't lie still any longer. Yesterday he'd stopped letting the nurses help him to the bathroom. In the middle of the night he'd removed the IV line and needle from his arm. At breakfast, he'd sent the lady back to get him two more meals. His body was healed enough. He'd served in action while he was more banged up than this. The doctors didn't want him to go yet, and Sam was making disapproving noises at him, but he was ready.
"At least let me go with you," Sam said.
Sam and the two security agents assigned to him stood unhappily outside the cab Steve had just gotten into. A nurse was frowning at him, but she'd stopped trying to hand him paperwork when Steve had walked out the main doors of the hospital. He knew hospitals. They didn't want him discharged yet, so they would drag the paperwork out with excuses to keep him longer if he let them.
"Thanks for getting me some clothes, Sam, but that's all I need. Tell Stark I'll take him up on his offer," Steve said.
"Tell him yourself," Sam said.
He tossed his cellphone into Steve's lap.
"I don't need your phone," Steve tried to hand it back.
"You take that phone, or I'm getting in the back and going with you. You're crazy if you think anybody wants to let you go off comm right now," Sam insisted.
Steve nodded. He and Sam had had a lot of time to talk over the last two days. He was thankful for Sam's presence and his calm, steady outlook on things. He'd helped him deal with the worst of the anger and betrayal, and he'd talked him out of running after Buck too quick and eager.
The cab pulled away from the front of the hospital and Steve watched Sam take the phone from one of the agents and start calling someone, probably Hill, to report that he'd run off. It wasn't a bad idea, as long as they left him alone to take care of what he needed to do.
Steve glanced at the cab driver who was looking at him between watching traffic.
"So, you're Captain America? I've got Captain America in my cab?" the older, overweight man asked.
"Looks like it. Go here," Steve said, and he used the GPS on the dash to find a branch of his bank, "and then we're goin to Jersey. How much for North Jersey?"
The cabbie told him and Steve took a calming breath. Geez, things were expensive nowadays. Hill had brought him his wallet at the hospital, so the transaction at the bank went smoothly. Steve walked out of the bank branch and back to the waiting cab. This time he got in the back and stretched out with his legs mostly on the seat and his back propped in the corner.
"You're walking funny. You get shot up or somethin? I figure with all that drama in the news, something musta happened to you," the curious cabbie said.
"Shot up, beat up, half drowned. It happens. It's what, four hours to the address I put in the GPS? I'm gonna get some sleep," Steve said.
The cabbie grunted and drove til early afternoon without bothering him.
The slowing down and turning of the cab woke Steve. The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror uncertainly.
"This is a disaster zone. You sure this is where you wanted to go?" he asked.
Steve looked at the chunks and slabs of concrete lying around inside the still locked gate of camp Lehigh. The barracks were damaged from the missile strike on the underground base. Many of the windows at the camp had been shattered from the explosion and glass glittered everywhere in the afternoon sun. A thin, white film of concrete dust coated the vegetation all around and made it look pale instead of dark green. The place was deserted again, except for the late model pickup truck parked peacefully in front of the gate. The taxi pulled up beside the truck.
"This is the place. Thanks," Steve said.
"You want me to wait?" the driver offered.
"That might be a good idea," Steve agreed.
He got out and went to assess the truck. It was in good condition, with only a few impact dings in the paint of the hood and a chip in the windshield. Steve lay down on his back and scanned under the frame for any tampering or devices that might have been added. It was clean. Steve opened the driver's door and touched the wires to see if it would start. No problem. There was still a half tank of gasoline. Steve left it running and walked back around to the cab.
It was hard to keep moving subtly without appearing that he was dizzy or something, but he managed. He walked back to the cab and leaned down to look inside. His eyes scanned around as he pulled money from his wallet, then leaned down to pay. He passed the driver double the fare that was showing on the meter to cover the return trip back to DC, plus a good tip. The driver looked at him like he was a little funny in the head, but he didn't comment.
"You need a ride, Cap, you call me anytime day or night," the cabbie said.
He passed Steve a business card and shook his hand.
Steve nodded at him and put the card in the back pocket of his jeans with his wallet. The cab backed out and the driver waved. Steve returned the wave as he walked around, then got in the truck. He didn't want to linger here, just in case there were any loose Hydra agents waiting. His eyes scanned the surroundings. The old camp had too many places for a sniper to hide and it had been making his skin crawl the whole time since he'd arrived.
Steve quickly backed the truck out and drove to the nearest busy gas station. He fueled up and got himself four large packs of beef jerky, three king size candy bars with peanuts, three chocolate milks and two large waters. And a coffee. His body was clamoring at him for protein, calories, and fluids. It always did that when he was healing.
He got the vehicle's registration and insurance papers from the glove compartment. The owner's home address was in one of the lower middle class suburbs around DC. It was another four hour drive back to Washington, and Steve's eyes were constantly looking to see if he was being followed. For a while, he thought he might have had a tail, but it pulled off the interstate and he never saw it again.
When the navigation app on Sam's phone told him he was twenty minutes out from where the truck belonged, he started making phone calls.
"Hi, this is Captain Steve Rogers. I need to speak to your superior officer," he said into the phone.
Steve was glad he'd taken Sam's phone. This would have been a lot clumsier if he didn't have the ability to make the appropriate calls as he drove. He waited while the officer who'd answered got the right person on the line.
"Hello. This is Captain Rogers. I'm assuming you've had a report for a stolen truck in your jurisdiction. The owner is Thomas Givens, twenty-four fifteen Westmoreland Way. I want to report that I'm driving the vehicle to return it to the owner now," Steve said.
"Yes. Steven Grant Rogers. Army Captain, retired," he clarified.
The police chief on the other end of the line was having a hard time understanding the reason why Steve was calling in to report that he was driving a stolen vehicle to its owner. He'd found the stolen vehicle report in their computer system, and he sounded suspicious that he was being pranked.
"Chief, I don't normally go around saying this, but I'm Captain America. If you've watched the news lately, you know I've had a little trouble. Things were hot, Hydra was on me, and I had to evade until I could find the information I needed and the means to hit them back. I took the truck from the mall parking lot and drove it to Jersey. I'm en route to arrive at the home of the owner in fifteen minutes, if traffic allows. I'd appreciate it if you can have one of your officers at the address to clear out the stolen vehicle report when I arrive. Or you can arrest me for the theft. I did take the vehicle, so I won't resist," Steve said.
The police chief was quiet for a moment, then he briskly agreed to have someone meet him at the address. Next, Steve made a similar call to the insurance agent listed on the card from the glove compartment. Strangely, the nice lady on the other end of the line seemed to believe him more easily than the police chief had. She agreed to have an assessor come out and look at the truck immediately.
He was a little antsy about meeting the owner of the vehicle, if they were home. It was going on to evening, and people were coming home from work. Steve didn't know if Mister Givens would be in a forgiving mood, or if he would be angry. He had every right to be. It had probably been an inconvenience to him for his vehicle to go missing. Steve was prepared to deal with irate intelligence directors and Army brass, and even disapproving senators and judiciary committees. He always did his best to perform his duty, so when he'd earned a dressing-down, he took it with a hard face, as he'd been trained to.
But this guy, the truck owner, was a civilian. An average Joe. Steve knew if he stood there at attention when the guy wanted to yell at him, it would be awkward. Civilians didn't understand that kind of thing. He'd probably think Steve was being an ass and ignoring him. Steve huffed out an anxious breath and tried to put himself back in the mindset of little Stevie Rogers, when he'd been caught out doing something naughty. That's the attitude he was going to have to take.
As he got closer, the neighborhood looked more and more worn and tired. Steve felt worse. He'd taken a working man's truck, not a weekend plaything from a wealthy person. He carefully drove between the other cars parked at the curb and watched out for the kids on their bicycles. At the correct address, there was already a patrol car and two officers waiting. One officer was standing at the front door of the small brick house and the other was at the patrol car talking to who Steve assumed was the insurance assessor.
The curbside was available, so Steve parked the truck. There was a young woman at the door of the house with a baby on her hip, and a toddler on the grass with a plastic big wheel trike, and a little girl standing by the toddler. The mom, the kids, the officers, and the insurance lady were all looking at him, waiting. Steve forced another long, slow breath out and got himself out of the truck.
He was going to go straight to the door to apologize to the woman, but the officer at the patrol car barked at him.
"Over here, Sir."
Steve changed directions and walked the few feet to the patrol car.
"Dispatch said to expect a Captain Rogers. Your ID, please," the young officer held out his hand. Steve noticed that his hip and his weapon hand were hidden behind the frame of the car, but in the correct posture for quick use.
Steve kept his left hand visible and slowly pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He handed it to the officer and waited while he looked at his ID.
"Is there a reason you have such a large amount of cash on you?" the officer asked as the thumbed aside the bill fold.
"I went to my bank and took it out so I could cover any expenses the vehicle owner may have incurred because of my use of their vehicle. I'd like to cover their car rental, if they had one, and pay for the damage to the truck. Hello, Ma'am," Steve said to the officer, and then to the insurance lady.
"You really are Captain America," the woman said with a big smile.
"Yes, Ma'am," Steve replied.
Just then, a small rental car parked across the street in a hurry, and a man in smudged work clothes and boots strode across the street with fire in his eyes.
"Are you the guy that stole my truck?" he asked as he advanced on Steve.
The man was thin, and shorter than Steve, but that didn't slow down his aggression any.
"Yessir," Steve answered.
He could already tell what was about to happen. Steve held a hand out behind him in a halt gesture to the officer and let the smaller man sock him a good one across the jaw.
"Tommy! No!" the woman from the house started running across the small lawn with the baby on her hip, and the insurance lady yelped.
Thomas Givens shook the sting from his knuckles and stood up in Steve's face. Steve worked his jaw around a little to make the man feel like he'd accomplished something.
"I was supposed to pick up my wife and kids! They had to wait for three frikkin hours at the laundromat in the dark because of you!" Tomas Givens yelled.
"I'm very sorry, Sir. Mrs. Givens, I hope you and the children are alright," Steve said to the lady.
"Alright, people. We should move this out of the street. Captain, do you want to press charges for assault?" the officer asked.
"What? No! I deserved that," Steve said.
"Daddy, you just hit Captain America," the little girl said from her father's side.
The child looked disapprovingly at her father, and Mister Givens looked to Steve in shock.
"Dude," he said, bewildered.
Steve looked to the little girl who seemed to have a pretty clear grasp of what was going on. He squatted down to her level so she wouldn't have to look up so much.
"What I did was wrong. I shouldn't have taken your daddy's truck, so your daddy is right to be angry. I won't hit him back, I promise, because I know I was wrong," Steve said.
"But why'd you do the wrong thing?" the girl asked.
She was one of those awkward looking kids with glasses and freckles. That didn't matter when Steve looked at her face, because he could tell she was confused. Him doing the wrong thing was a big deal to her, and he felt the need to explain.
"I did the wrong thing because the bad guys were coming to get me, and I had to get away. I looked all around for something different to do, but the bad guys were coming fast. Your truck looked strong and safe, so I used it to get away," Steve explained.
The girl nodded as if that made perfect sense.
"We saw you on TV, and everybody was looking for you. They said you were bad and they looked mean. I didn't like them. Me and mommy and Georgie and Lisa prayed for you so you could get away from the mean people," she said.
Steve bit his lip and bent his head down for a moment. He bore down against the swell of emotion that hit him. He hadn't realized that folks would be praying for him. It meant more than he'd thought it would. He got himself under control and looked at the little girl.
"Thanks, sweetheart. That means a lot to me. I got away, and I got back at the bad guys, so I appreciate your help," Steve said.
"You 'sploded 'em," the girl said with a smile.
"I guess we did. We kinda had to. They were really bad guys," Steve said contritely.
Another thing he hadn't considered was that little kids at home might be watching the violence his job required, now that there were cameras everywhere. God, he hoped it hadn't been too gruesome. Didn't the news media have any care for who might be watching?
Steve stood up and held his hand out to Mister Givens. The young father hesitated, clearly feeling uneasy about the situation now that he understood. His wife shoved at his elbow until he took Steve's hand.
"I'm really sorry, Mister Givens," Steve said.
The man nodded, and his wife was staring at him unkindly.
"What? I didn't know," Thomas said.
"Mister Givens, do we have your permission to drop the theft charges against the Captain?" the officer asked.
"Yeah, yeah. Of course," Thomas said.
He looked at his truck, and the officer put a clipboard and some papers in his hands. Thomas signed the papers, then went to look at his truck for damage. The insurance assessor joined him. The two officers walked closer to Steve.
"Captain, if it's not too much trouble, do you think I could get your autograph? The guys are never gonna believe this," the younger officer said.
"Sure," Steve said.
He scrawled his name on the scrap of paper provided to him, and then did it again for the other officer when he offered his light blue uniform shirt sleeve. It wasn't unusual for people to offer him shirts and caps and sometimes more embarrassing things for him to autograph. Steve waved at the officers as they left, and ambled over to point out the dings and chips he knew his use had added to the truck.
"How did this damage happen, Captain?" the insurance lady asked.
"I was in a concrete bunker and they sent a missile after me and my partner. The truck was over a hundred yards away, but the impact was highly kinetic. I'm sure the dings and chips are from concrete projectiles," Steve said.
Thomas fingered the small damage spots and looked at Steve with a bit of awe.
"My truck was at an Avengers battle?" he asked.
"It was just me and the Widow, and it wasn't really a battle. I didn't have much ability to fight back right then," Steve clarified.
Thomas looked at him like he wanted to hear more.
"I'm sorry. It's classified," Steve told him.
Thomas nodded.
"It will be approximately nine hundred and seventy five dollars to replace your chipped windshield and repair the damage to the hood of your truck, Mister Givens," the insurance assessor said.
"I don't want it fixed. It's drivable, right?" Thomas asked.
"I drove it here. Are you sure? I'm happy to pay for the damage," Steve offered.
"Naw, man, I'm keepin it like this," Thomas said.
He rubbed his hand over the dings on the front edge of the hood. Steve tried hard not to laugh, and he looked at the insurance lady.
"How much for the car rental?"
"We've got that covered. Their out of pocket was fifty dollars and eighty-five cents," she told him.
Steve paid Thomas the money to cover their part of the car rental, but Thomas didn't want to take it.
"Come on. Here. If you don't take it, I'll give it to your daughter. She likes me," Steve said with a smile.
Thomas accepted the money.
"I'm sorry I hit you, man. I didn't know. I thought you were some punk out for a joy ride, or into drugs or something."
"No hard feelings. I understand," Steve said.
"Thomas, you bring him in for supper!" the wife shouted from the front door of the house.
"I really should get going," Steve said to politely give the man a reason to decline his wife's invitation.
"No, she means it. You better come eat," Thomas said.
The insurance lady shook Steve's hand and smiled, and then she left.
Steve followed Thomas to the house.
"Are you alright? You're walking a little funny," he asked.
"Gut shot. I'm fine," Steve said, and waved his hand as if it was nothing.
"Like shot in the stomach, with a bullet? Three days ago?" Thomas asked incredulously.
"Shhh, I don't talk about that kind of stuff in front of women and children. I heal quick. It's not a problem," Steve said quietly as they went inside the modest home.
"If you say so, man," Thomas said in awe.
Thomas went to say hello to his wife in the kitchen. Steve paused inside the front door in the small living room, and the little girl who'd spoken so clearly and intelligently to him immediately grabbed his fingers and tugged at him.
"You come play," she ordered him.
"Yes, Ma'am," Steve said.
"I'm not Mam. I'm Margot," the little girl said.
"It's nice to meet you," Steve replied as his mother would have expected him to.
He wanted to laugh, and it made his stomach hurt, but it made the rest of him feel good. There hadn't been much to be genuinely happy about lately, and the change of mood was pleasantly unexpected.
The child led him to sit in the middle of the floor with her little brother who crawled around among a pile of Legos. The baby bounced in a round, plastic seat thingy with toys attached all around its edge.
"Nnnnnnn!" the nearly year-old infant yelled at him around her pacifier. She bounced vigorously on chubby legs and the toys on her seat thing jiggled wildly.
"Hi," Steve smiled at the tot.
The little boy crawled onto his lap and banged him on the shoulder with a big yellow Lego.
"Heya, sport. What have ya got?" Steve asked.
His gut hurt when he lifted the kid to set him back on the carpet, but that was okay. The little boy picked up a blue Lego piece and banged it against the yellow one.
"He wants you to do what he does," the girl explained.
"Okay," Steve said.
He found pieces that matched the ones the boy grabbed, and he copied the kid as he made a rudimentary train out of Legos and plastic wheel parts.
"Thomas! You brought the Captain into this house and you didn't tell me! Georgie is making him play with Legos! Captain, you don't have to do that. I'm so sorry!" the lady of the house called from the kitchen doorway.
"It's alright. This is a lot nicer than what I've been doing for the last week or so," Steve told her.
"Well, you shouldn't have to sit on the floor with the kids. I'm sorry. Tommy isn't always very good with manners. Will you come to the dining room? It's almost supper time. Or, the hall bathroom is right there, if you want to wash up," she said.
Steve got to his feet with a hidden grimace and went into the kitchen where the lady was working to spoon food into serving dishes. It looked good, and smelled even better. It was some kind of chicken in a sauce, with vegetable-rice and broccoli.
"Sure. Thanks. Oh, I'm Steve," he said, and offered her his hand.
"Captain?" she asked.
Steve shook his head kindly.
"Just Steve. I mean, yes, I'm the Captain, but I prefer to just be me when I'm off duty, Ma'am," he explained.
"I'm Emily. I'm really sorry that Tommy hit you like that. He's kind of protective," Emily smiled.
Steve could see that she was not so secretly proud of her husband's bravery.
"That's nice to hear, Miz Emily. I used to pick fights with guys bigger than me all the time. It takes courage. Nothing wrong with a man standing up for his family," Steve said.
"But it wouldn't hurt for him to stop and ask a question or two, first," Emily told him.
"Well, to be fair, he did ask one question," Steve said.
Emily laughed, and Steve went to the hall bathroom to freshen up.
"Margot! Come put the glasses and pour the drinks," the mother called out.
Steve closed himself in the bathroom and started to wash his hands. With the water running, he paused and let the strangeness of the situation settle a bit. Of all the things he'd expected, the only thing that wasn't a surprise was getting punched by Mister Givens. The Margot kid was amazing for a little one, and the other two were pretty spunky too. Their mother was kind and hospitable, and Thomas was reasonable enough, once he understood what was going on.
He liked the feeling of domesticity in this small house. It wasn't fancy. The bathroom he stood in was tiny, with colorful stickers in the bottom of the iron stained tub, and rubber bath toys everywhere. There was a little plastic potty chair next to the regular sized toilet, and a red Iron man toothbrush lived in the cup at the sink, along with a blue Captain America one. The bristles were frayed and splayed out on the Cap toothbrush, like somebody didn't want to get rid of it, even though it was well used. Steve smiled. He was somebody's favorite around here.
A man's footsteps went by in the hall, and Thomas spoke kindly to his children in the living room. Steve finished washing his hands and dried them. He shouldn't linger, but this was nice.
Emily called her family to eat, and Steve hurried from the bathroom. In the cozy dining room, there was a place for him at the round table. Emily and Thomas sat next to each other, with baby Lisa in a high chair by her mother. Georgie, the boy, was clipped into a booster seat by his father, and Margot wiggled excitedly in her chair next to Steve.
"I'm a big girl," she said.
"I guess you are," Steve agreed as if he was impressed.
"Margot, hush. Captain, I hope we don't offend, but we say grace around here," Emily said.
"I do too," Steve murmured, and bowed his head.
"Thank you, God for the meal we are about to receive. And thank you for the Captain's safety. Amen," Thomas prayed.
"Amen," Steve agreed.
He felt a little embarrassed to be singled out in their prayer, but Margot was kicking him with the hard edge of her shoe under the table. It distracted him enough that he didn't blush. Emily reached for Steve's plate and served him a heaping pile. Steve nodded his thanks and waited politely until everyone was served.
Little Lisa yelled again and banged her hands on her high chair tray. She spit out her pacifier and smiled a half-toothed grin at Steve, but then her attention was all for the food, which she ate with her fingers.
Steve stared in fascination at the mess the baby made until Thomas spoke up.
"So, you blew up the office. Are you out of a job? 'Cause I could talk to my boss and maybe find something for ya."
"It's kind of you to offer. Thank you, but I think I'll be alright. Stark is lining up some work for me that should keep me busy. I'll be in New York after this," Steve said.
"So you didn't blow up the Avengers?" Margot asked.
"No, the Avengers are my friends. I just blew up the place with all the paperwork and where the boring boss people worked," Steve said.
Margot wrinkled her nose at him and shook her head.
"That's like homework. And teachers," Margot said.
She stabbed a piece of chicken on her plate vigorously.
"Right. So, me and Iron Man and the Widow, and the Hulk and Thor and Hawkeye still have jobs," Steve told her.
Margot nodded while she chewed.
Emily smiled and fed the baby a spoon of rice.
"You were hiding from Hydra in the mall?" Thomas asked.
Steve was really enjoying the meal. The food was great, and Margot was good company, but he wasn't overly fond of the questions about recent events. He'd stolen Thomas' truck, so he felt compelled to answer as best as he could.
"Not exactly hiding. There was something in the mall we needed. Hydra found out me and the Widow were there. We got done with what we needed, and then it was time to run. I wish I hadn't had to take your truck, but we would have been in a bad spot without it," Steve said.
Thomas shrugged and ate.
"What does 'widow' mean?" Margot asked.
Steve looked up from his plate and waited for either of the parents to answer her. Thomas tended to his food, though there was a slight smile bending his lips. Emily looked pointedly to Steve.
"Um," Steve swallowed, took a long drink from his glass, and wiped his mouth to give himself time to think, "It usually means a woman who has lost her husband. But in my friend Natasha's case, it just means that she's really… dangerous. Even to men who are bigger than her."
"She still has her husband, then?" Margot asked.
"No. I don't think she's ever been married," Steve said.
He looked to the parents somewhat pleadingly, but Emily only smiled and cut up more chicken for Georgie. Margot saw that Steve's glass of tea was almost empty, so she grabbed her glass, which was almost full, and poured most of it into Steve's.
"Margot! That's not nice," Emily said, embarrassed.
"Why not? He didn't have anymore," Margot said.
"You can't pour your drink into other people's glasses. Guests don't like to share our germs," her mother said.
Margot looked down at her plate and Steve heard her take a deep breath and hold it. The kid's face turned bright red where he could see it from the side. Steve had to think quick. He had a feeling that Margot was his big fan in the house, and now she was painfully ashamed for the innocent blunder.
"What your mom says is true. You shouldn't do that to most people. But I'm Captain America. Germs don't do anything to me, so I don't mind," Steve said.
He picked up his glass and drank from it. Margot let go of the breath she was holding and looked at him. The kid had been really embarrassed. He could see through her glasses that she had tears on her eyelids. Steve set his glass down, smiled at her, and finished eating his food.
"You must have really been in a hurry, Steve. When you got in the truck, didn't you see that there was a booster seat in the back?" Emily asked.
"Yes, Ma'am, I was really in a hurry. I only noticed the booster seat on the way here this evening," Steve admitted.
Georgie was staring at him. The boy hadn't said a word all evening. Maybe he didn't talk yet. Or maybe he didn't know who their guest was.
"You said you'd go work with Stark. That's Iron Man, right? Are you going to live in his big tower?" Margot asked.
"I think so. It would make going to work easier if we were all in one place," Steve said.
The meal was almost done, except for wiping down the baby. She had broccoli on top of her head. Steve chuckled and looked to Thomas, who just smiled.
"Thanks for having me in for supper. It was great," Steve said.
He got up from his place and so did the family, except for Georgie, who was strapped in. The boy wiggled and bounced and strained against his booster seat until Thomas freed him.
"You're welcome to stop by anytime," Emily told him.
"Yeah, no bad for the truck, man," Thomas said, and shook his hand again.
Steve walked for the front door, and he felt Margot's fingers grab his hand. She dragged at him to stay and Steve made a game of lifting her up and bopping her feet along the carpet as he walked. The pain was worth it for her giggles.
"Wait! You can't go yet," Margot said.
She let go of his hand and ran off down the hallway.
Steve looked to Emily and Thomas. They each had a child on their hip. They didn't appear to have any more clue about what Margot wanted than he did.
Margot ran back with a stuffed cloth doll in her hand. She tugged at Steve for him to squat down. Once he was down at her level again, Margot looked at him bashfully.
"What?" Steve asked her.
"I can't kiss you goodbye. You're a boy, and that would be weird," Margot said.
"Oh, okay," Steve agreed.
Margot smacked him in the face with her doll.
"Margot!" her mother fussed.
"There," Margot said, and she looked satisfied.
"Wow. You're some kisser, lady," Steve rubbed his nose where she'd bonked him, and he stood up smiling.
"Sorry about that. She's a handful," Thomas muttered.
"Nah. She's great. Maybe she'll be an Avenger someday," Steve said.
"Hey, do you have a ride?" Emily asked.
Steve looked at his watch and stepped out into their front yard. It had gotten dark and quiet in the neighborhood while they ate supper. Steve pointed up at the sky. The Givens family went out to stand in the lawn with him.
In the distance but coming quick, there was a low flying aircraft. It sounded different from any of the regular planes that the family was used to hearing.
"My ride is meeting me in the ballpark down the street. If you're ever in New York, you can stop by and see if I'm in," Steve offered.
"It was nice to meet you," Emily called as Steve started to walk to the ballpark where the quinjet would pick him up.
"Bye!" Margot yelled.
"See ya!" Steve answered her cheerfully.
A week later, Emily was checking the mailbox outside the door. There was a small yellow package along with the bills and the junk mail. That was odd. She hadn't ordered anything recently. She felt of the oblong shape inside the bubble lined envelope. The baby swatted at the mail in her hand and almost knocked it to the ground.
"Lisa. No," she told her littlest daughter.
Once back inside, she shut the door and set the baby down. All the other mail went to the end table and Emily turned the package over. The return address was labelled S. Rogers in neat, fluid cursive ink. Sent from New York, NY.
"Margot!" Emily yelled down the hall to the children's room.
The girl came running.
"You have a package," her mother said, and handed it to her.
"Is it from Gran?" Margot asked.
She tugged her fingers against the adhesive of the sealing flap.
"I don't think so. Look where it's from," Emily turned the package in her hands and pointed to the return address.
"New York!"
Margot ripped at the package more excitedly. After a bit of struggle, a photograph and a plastic tube fell out of the envelope.
"A new toothbrush. It's a Captain America one! And look! A picture!" Margot gathered the dropped items off the carpet and hurried them over to her mother.
The picture was of the Captain in his uniform, with his shield on his back sticking up a bit from his shoulders. His hair was messy, as if he'd just taken his cowl off. Next to him was a beautiful red haired lady in a black outfit. Even smiling, she looked dangerous.
"That's gotta be the Widow!" Margot said.
"Mmhmm" Emily hummed.
The photo was a small print made from a phone selfie. It was framed in on just the Avengers' faces and shoulders. Both the Captain and the Widow had overly large, toothy smiles. Emily thought they looked goofy, like regular people instead of super-heroes. That smile was odd, but she liked the genuine crinkles at the corners of the Captain's eyes. Emily kept staring at the pic. Margot was distracted with opening her new toothbrush. Hmm. The smile was really odd. Very toothy.
On a hunch, Emily turned the photo over. There on the back side, in the same strong handwriting as the return address, was written: Great smile, kid, but you gotta keep a fresh toothbrush. Keep me in your prayers. I could use the help. Your pal, Steve.
Tommy was going to be very happy with this. His friends at work didn't believe him that Captain America and the Black Widow had borrowed his truck. She was going to have to threaten his life to bring the photo back to Margot unharmed, without any motor oil stains on it.
Emily wondered where Margot had gone to until she heard the water run in the bathroom.
Her daughter was standing in front of the sink with her new toothbrush, about to put the toothpaste on, but she'd frozen still in indecision.
"What's wrong?" Emily asked.
"Maybe I shouldn't get it dirty with toothpaste. It's a real Captain America toothbrush! If I use it, I might wear it out like my old one. And then what would I do?" Margot worried.
"Look here. He wrote on the back of the picture," Emily showed her.
"I think he means for you to use it and keep your teeth bright, just like him and the Widow, see?" she reasoned.
Emily turned the photo over again and showed Margot how nice the Captain and the Widow kept their teeth.
"Oh. I guess so," Margot said, and that was the end of that.
She happily brushed her teeth, then spit.
"Can I please throw away your old toothbrush now?" Emily asked.
Margot nodded.