Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or ideas from any of the following: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men, The Losers, Harry Potter, or Star Trek. The use of these characters is purely for entertainment and I receive no monetary compensation for this story.
A/N: I couldn't get this idea out of my head. I hope it's at least entertaining. This chapter is a prologue. Real story begins in the next chapter. Let me know if you can guess the first of Steve's kids. All the rest will be in the next chapter. Please let me know if this is interesting enough to continue. Thanks!
Steve had always wanted to be a father, for as long as he could remember, but he'd never in his life thought that it would ever happen. Growing up in the Depression, so weak, he knew that he would never last long enough to have a family, never mind finding a lady who would care for him enough to want to marry him and start a family with him. It was only Bucky who kept him alive as long as he did, curling around him in the bed so he didn't freeze, propping him up and massaging his chest with his strong hands when his lungs weren't strong enough to keep out the fluid, and hauling in water to boil to keep their tiny flat somewhat humid so that Steve's nose wasn't bleeding at every little move during the long dry winters. It was Bucky who whispered to him on the nights he was laid up with a raging fever, certain he wasn't going to last until the morning, of a future that he knew would never come. Bucky whispered to him of children, as many as he wanted, running around in a yard with actual grass, playing, laughing, happy. He spoke a white house with blue shutters, like the one Steve's mom used to tell him about on the coast of Ireland before she decided her village wasn't exciting enough for the whole of her life. And he spoke to Steve of love, a great love that would make everything worthwhile, all of the pain, all of the sickness as a child. He spoke as if love would be enough to heal all of Steve's many health woes. A love for all time, he whispered as Steve lay delirious, certain that his small friend couldn't hear the love and desperation in his voice. But, Steve did. Every single time.
It was only after the tenth or so time that Steve realized he was going to have to be the one to work up the courage to say it. And so the next morning when he had survived another night and yet another fever had broken, still weak as a kitten, he taken Bucky's hand in his own and pressed a kiss to it, told him he loved him too. Bucky's eyes had lit up like he'd been given the world and, not wanting to risk an asthma attack on Steve's part, he'd pressed a lingering kiss to Steve's forehead. From then on they'd been a couple in every sense of the word behind closed doors and even though Steve knew he still wouldn't last long enough to ever have a family it didn't hurt as much any longer. Knowing he'd at least had a great love had been enough. The night before Bucky shipped out and Steve showed him his acceptance papers they'd clung to each other, each more scared for the other than they'd ever been before. Steve nearly cried himself into a fit when he had to stay behind in their little apartment while Bucky got on the train to take him away. He would have given anything to be able to say his goodbyes to his love and give him one more kiss as he boarded.
Dreams sustained him in the long months he was being used to sell war bonds. Dreams that even if he wasn't used for what he was intended, even if he never got to make it to the war, he would be able to welcome Bucky home with a smile. Maybe they could get that house Bucky always told him about. They'd have to be careful, of course, and they still wouldn't be able to be fathers like he'd always dreamed, but they'd be together. And now he knew he would survive. They could grow old together. But, those dreams were traded in for a war when he'd finally made it Europe himself and despite the terrible battlefields, the devastation he was painfully aware of all around him it had been one of the happiest times of his life. He'd felt useful, he'd had friends and he'd had love. Rescuing Bucky, the night shared in a tent when they'd gotten back to camp, simply laying together and talking as they ran their hands over each other's bodies, rememorizing each other as they were and not how they remembered each other. It had been a wonder to Steve how often he could kiss Bucky and still not run out of breath. Fighting side by side with Bucky for so many months had been almost as good as the dreams he'd once had of their little house with the big yard. Sometimes, both the good and the bad of the war, felt like it would last forever.
But, of course it hadn't. The war had come to an abrupt end for him over the course of just a few days. He'd only ever wished once in his life that he hadn't taken Erskine's opportunity. The night he'd sat in the bombed out bar, trying to drink himself into an oblivion that would never come, he'd wished more than anything, so hard that he'd broken a glass and couldn't even have the pleasure of glass shards in his hand, that he could follow Bucky to the grave. He was raised a good Catholic boy and there was nothing he would have done to force his death, but he'd be lying, even to himself, if he didn't admit that when he'd forced the plane down a good part of him was relieved…and grateful.
Then, when he'd woken up he'd gone through two years with the same feeling in his gut, but he'd never been more grateful that his prayers hadn't been answered than the day Bucky came back to him. It wasn't how he though they would be reunited and it had been a long, hard road to break seventy years of Hydra conditioning, but in the end Bucky's strength, Steve's persistence, and their love pulled them through the darkness and into the best five years of both of their lives. They were never completely at peace. They were Avengers, after all, but it wasn't a constant war as it had been before and in the new millennium they could be exactly who they were without fear that someone was going to come after them in the night and cart them off to jail or worse. They didn't have to hide from their own family in the tower. They kept their secret from the press and the rest of the world because they didn't want to have to deal with the hate that they knew would come their way if they came out publicly, not when they'd only so recently found each other and all they wanted to do was celebrate their love.
They'd been talking about coming out to the rest of world, finally ready to take the next step in their relationship, marriage and maybe even the adoption of a child or two, when the worst had come to pass. Super soldiers were strong, it's how they were engineered, but not even Bucky could survive the three-inch diameter pole through his chest in the middle of a battle. Steve didn't even know what had happened until it was all over and he found Natasha on her knees, Bucky's head in her lap and a blank look in her eye as a single tear made its way down her cheek. Bucky's eyes were open, gazing up at the sky, but there was no life in them. His face was relaxed and when Steve fell to his knees and closed his eyelids gently he looked almost peaceful. It was the peace that broke something in Steve that he wasn't sure would ever really mend. He wasn't even aware he was screaming as he took Bucky in his arms and rocked back and forth, not until Bruce finally joined them and managed to force the cocktail of drugs into him that he'd managed to create to sedate a super soldier.
For two months Steve walked around in a daze. He didn't even really feel like himself. He felt…distant…as if he were already with Bucky in death and his body just hadn't caught up to it yet. He could see the concern in the others' eyes when they looked at him, hear it in their voices, but nothing they said, none of the looks they gave him, could make him care. He was numb to everything around him. When he could work up the energy to care about anything at all he was distantly aware that he was scaring them and he could almost regret it, but then he would see Bucky in his mind's eyes, peaceful, still…dead…and the numb would wash over him all over again. He ate when Natasha and Bruce put food to his lips, bathed when Tony and Clint led him into a shower though he couldn't even work up a blush when Clint finally just stripped down and joined him under the water to wash him. Nothing could break through the clouds. Even Fury and Hill coming over and outright ordering him. When he wasn't eating or bathing he was just…existing. Sometimes he slept, sometimes he didn't. He sat or laid wherever someone led him.
It was just any other day in his new existence when Bucky brought him back to life, just as he'd done five years before. He was simply laying on his bed, staring at the wall when the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard in his life called out to him.
"Hi, Stevie," He rolled over to see what was obviously a holographic projection standing at the foot of the bed. Bucky looked just as he had in Steve's best dreams. He was in his uniform, his hair still long, but pulled back in a neat tail at the nape of neck, his face clean-shaven, his eyes bright. Steve sat up and let the blanket that Tony had placed over him pool around his waist.
"If you're seeing this then I'm gone. We've always known it's a possibility that we're going to die in the field. It's kind of been out life for a long time, huh? I'm going to ask JARVIS to wait a couple of months to show this to you if I kick it. I know you, Stevie. You're a drama queen and I know it's going to take you a while before you're ready to listen to anything. So, I want you to listen to me now.
I want you to know that you are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I thought it when you were still my scrawny little idiot who didn't know how to back down from a fight and I think it now that you're my big idiot who still can't back down. Everything good that has ever happened to me has happened because of you and when it comes to loving you I have no regrets. Not about following, not about loving you. None.
It's going to be hard for you, when I'm gone, doll, I know that. You let yourself love me maybe a little too much. You make me the center of your happiness and if I'm gone then you can't do it anymore. But, I'm begging you, Stevie, please, please don't let yourself give up. You have so much to give. And not just as Captain America. Fuck, Steve, the captain is the least of who you are. I know you and I have talked about putting it all down, letting ourselves just be us…family…kids. If it feels right, Steve, I want you to do that. You're going to be an incredible father someday and even though I hope I'm there with you just because I might not be isn't a reason to deprive some kid out of you as a dad.
I guess, if I died, I'm sorry if it was because I did something stupid and I'm sorry I couldn't be with you to the end of the line. It's all I ever needed to be happy and I hope that you're going to go and find what you need to be happy, too. I want you happy, doll. That's the most important thing to me. Your happiness. And if you find some other fella or a dame or whatever…well, whatever it takes. But, be happy. I love you, Punk."
"I love you, Jerk." Steve whispered as the hologram froze with Bucky looking slightly embarrassed, that sweet half smile on his face that Steve was so used to. And finally the clouds lifted and he felt everything that he'd been holding back. Bruce had to have been close because he ran into the room just a moment after Steve began to howl like a wounded animal and held him silently as he weathered the storm of his emotions. When it was finally over Steve was more exhausted than he'd ever been in his life and he slept for twenty-seven hours without waking.
When he finally did wake everything still hurt like hell but he felt like he could breathe again. He took a couple more weeks to think long and hard about what he wanted, re-watched Bucky's message close to a thousand times, and finally came to a decision. Fury was understandably angry when he took the shield to him and told him he was done. But, all the threats, all the angry words, and finally all the pleas wouldn't change Steve's mind. Bucky wanted him happy and for the first time he felt like he wanted to be happy, too. So, he was going to go find his happiness. All he knew was that it wasn't being a hero any longer. The weight of so many depending on him was killing him. He'd given his life in service of his country and now it was his turn to live.
He was surprised at just how supportive the other Avengers were. Natasha kissed him gently, Bruce patted him on the back with tears in his eyes, Clint just smiled and nodded, Thor embraced him with all his strength, and Tony told a crude joke before he handed Steve the latest version of the Starkphone and yelled for him to call as he made his way quickly out of the room, citing important work in the lab. Steve rode away from the tower with tears in his eyes and lightness in his heart that he'd been missing for years. For a time he simply let himself be. He rode around the country, got to know it in a way he never had before, ate when he was hungry, slept when he was tired, sometimes camping, sometimes getting a hotel.
His wanderlust finally came to an end in a small Colorado town. It had once been a mining town, but that had been a hundred years before. The mining had gone bust, of course, but the town had survived due to the rich farmland surrounding it. The farms produced and the town grew up inside of them to support that production. It seemed like everyone knew each other's names still. One car lot, a main street, no big chain stores. Everything was still bought at mom and pop places that had been in the family for years. The restaurants were the same. Steve decided to stay for a couple of weeks to relax and when, by the third day, people were smiling and greeting him by name he knew he'd found home. It was somewhere between how he'd grown up and the new world he found himself in.
He bought a large house just on the outskirts of the town that had once belonged to a miner who'd made it big but sold and abandoned it when the gold dried up. A few had tried to bring it back over the years, the town's residents told him, but they all gave up. Steve had to admit, it was a monumental task, but his back pay from the army and his pay for his time employed by S.H.I.E.L.D. made it so that he could buy the old place in cash and still never have to worry about work another day in his life if he didn't want to. He took his time, a couple more years, bringing the old place back to life. He took it down to the studs in many cases, new wiring, new plumbing, and made it livable again. But, it was exterior that was his true pride and joy. By the time he was done it was restored to how it had looked in pictures in the local museum and he had never been more proud of something he had done with his own hands.
His work on the house, the construction, and the fancy details, earned him a reputation as a carpenter and he found that the reputation made him happy too. He built himself a workshop out back and made things that made him happy. Tables and rocking chairs, things that looked beautiful and would last. He was never more proud than when Miss Mary Elizabeth Johnston, whose family had been original settlers of the town, told him that she would be happy to sell his pieces in her general store. Soon he was working on commissions too and within another couple years he found himself with a small store on Main. All his own furniture and even some carvings and statues. Even if that has been all he had for income it sold well enough to keep him comfortable and the work pleased him to no end. After a couple of months the store did so well that he'd even hired someone to look after it so he could work on his pieces all the time and not worry about the presentation and sales aspect that he'd never enjoyed.
He'd found his place and it was all he'd ever wanted. Sure, he was a little lonely sometimes. It was a big house, after all, but his friends came to visit often. When they were with him Steve could tell they were relaxed and he was glad to be able to be that person, that place, they could come to when they just needed a break from all of the demands of the world. He was always happy to have them and it was his friends who changed his life forever when one winter night when the air was so cold you could taste it and the stars shined like shards of glass they brought him an unexpected gift.
Tony pounding on the door brought him out of a dead sleep and for a moment Steve reached for the shield he hadn't carried in years.
"Rogers!" His voice was strained, "Get your ass down here before I freeze my balls off!"
"Tony," Bruce's voice was long suffering and annoyed. Steve vaulted down the stairs and tore the door open, almost afraid of what he would find. What were they running from that they'd come to him so late?
"What is it? What's happening?" He motioned to them to come in and was already slipping back in the Captain when Clint stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"We…uh…" He stammered quietly.
"We didn't know where else to bring them," Natasha said softly, "We found them in a Hydra facility."
Steve finally looked down at the bundle he'd noticed in Natasha's arms and took in a sharp breath through his nose. She was holding a sleeping child, a toddler, against her chest. He was either just out of babyhood or maybe small for his age and covered in a blue, downy fur. Just the tips of a couple of long canines pressed over his lower lip and Steve could see a spaded tail wrapped delicately around Natasha's arm.
"Them…" Steve breathed and looked up to see a pair of shining pupil-less eyes looking at him tiredly from where a beautiful little girl, five or six with lavender skin and dark pink hair, was looking at him from Thor's arms.
"It's fine," Steve said, in a daze, "It's…come in. Let's get the kids warmed up. I'll just…go put on some coffee."
"I got that," Tony pushed past him and he led them all into the living room, unable to take his eyes off of the kids as he built up a fire.
An hour later when he was sitting in the living room, the little girl, Clarice, curled up against his side as she slept and the baby boy, Kurt, in his arms, it felt like nothing had ever been as right as things were right then. He breathed the sleeping kids in, looked at his friends, sitting around, too keyed up from their battle to sleep, but exhausted still, and smiled.
"You're going to be a great dad, Steve," Bruce smiled back.
"Yeah," Steve breathed, half in amazement, "Yeah. I am."