Thank you for all the favorites and follows, I am really overwhelmed by this :'3 Just so you know, this will be more like drabbling and won't have a real over-all plot despite the previous chapters (Yes, I skipped a whole day :O). I'll try to make sure though that everything is consensual and will fit in the greater context and will follow a time line. I again want to remind you that you can always send me requests or the like.
In case it's unclear while reading this chapter, CA:TWS didn't happen and (as you might have guessed from the precious chapter) neither did (the end of) IM3. Well, not so many kids in this part, but I introduce a few major plot lines, so.. bear with me. Hope you enjoy!
Distraction
The pencil glides over the paper, the fine lines it leaves on the white thick page unify to form shapes, slowly starting to create features the artist hadn't seen in a long time. It's been twelve years for him, more than seventy years for the rest of the world.
Steve looks up from the sketch and lets his gaze wander over the skyscrapers of New York which look small from his vantage point. The men and women on the sidewalks and streets are barely visible as Steve looks out of the high windows of the top floor. Often enough he had brought the scene in front of him on paper but he never grows bored of the sight. From up here he watches the change of the seasons, can make out the bright green spots all over the city that hadn't been there a few weeks ago. After some moments he turns back to the face of the past, smirking at him, long lost but never forgotten.
There is a timid knock in the door, tearing Steve out of his thoughts. He turns around in his chair when the door opens and a shock of blond hair peeks in.
'Can we come in?', Rachel asks, glancing at the table Steve had been working on.
'Of course, Rachel.' The door opens wide to reveal his daughter and son. They come in and quickly look around the room to see if there is anything new to see. There is still a rather large painting standing in the corner, showing the street corner in Brooklyn he grew up in. The dark blue sofa Steve had added a long time ago is directly on the wall facing his desk so that the occupants can still look out on the beautiful city beneath them. Steve had added a few more books to the shelves next to it and is sure that his children will spot them in no time.
'Didn't you want to stay with your Mom?', Steve asks with a smile, watching them explore. He is happy to have his children around him but after yesterday's meeting Natasha had offered to watch them so Steve would be able to work. Last time the blond had seen them before going to his home office to work through the data they had been playing in the living room. About an hour ago Steve had withdrawn to his drawing room to clear his mind for the evening. He hadn't expected to see either of them this afternoon.
'She is.. thinking.', James says carefully. 'There was a call from Aunt Pepper.' Steve nods. So there had been a new problem within the companies laboratories and Natasha is trying to find a solution right now, freaking out about it. He smiles, knowing it's best to leave his wife alone in that state.
Currently Rachel is more entranced by her father's latest work and James seems to get curious as well. Steve pulls her on his lap when she tries to take a proper look at the sketch. She purses her lips when she can finally see it. James comes closer and stands on tiptoes to see what Rachel is looking at. All three look at the handsome face with the smirk Steve had known so well, the dark hair is windswept.
'Who is that, Dad?', he asks, not recognizing the face. Steve ruffles his hair with a fond smile, both of his kids' faces turned to him, waiting for an answer.
'That's..' Actually that is a really good question. Steve ponders over the question. He's my best friend, seems too little, and calling the man his brother would lead to more questions. How does he want to explain his children the fact that they never met him and what happened to him? Finally Steve settles for: 'That's your Uncle Bucky.' It's always best to go with the truth.
They frown both, trying to remember if they had ever heard about such an Uncle.
'We never visit him.', Rachel notes, glancing at her brother for confirmation.
'No, we don't.' He runs his hand through her blonde hair. 'You never met him.', he explains before they can ask.
'Why not? Are you not friends anymore?', James asks, tilting his head to the side. He looks a lot like his mother when she does that.
'We lost contact a long time ago. We grew up together in Brooklyn and lived together until he joined the army. The two boys from Brooklyn never met again.', Steve says with sadness lacing through his voice. Bucky has died long ago on a train somewhere in the wild, but he doesn't tell them.
Rachel slides to the floor and the children sit down on the couch, waiting with big eyes for him to continue his story about their uncle. Steve sighs, actually not wanting to talk about his former best friend, but begins to tell them innocent stories about his childhood and how he met the dark haired boy named James Buchanan Barnes.
'James?', his son peaks up at the name.
'Yes. You were named after him.', Steve admits. At the time of their son's birth he had asked Natasha for this in remembrance to his friend.
'Can we meet him?', the boy asks. Steve regrets ever starting with Bucky.
'Unfortunately not. But your Uncle was a hero.', he reassures James. The brunet boy nods, having probably noticed the past tense.
'Can you show us?', Rachel asks, looking at the big picture which Steve had tried to describe how their street had looked like. The sun is already setting, casting the room in bright orange light.
'It's almost time for bed.', Steve admonishes. Why he had thought about his old friend today, he can't tell. He tries to push away his past and concentrate on the presence but sometimes the melancholy just catches up with him. Bucky hadn't entered his mind for some time since he had accepted his life in the future. Steve hadn't even consciously started drawing Bucky, his face had just leaped up from the dark.
'Tomorrow then?', Rachel sits now on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward.
'Tomorrow I have to visit Aunt Natasha and discuss work with her. Next week we can go.', he promises. A trip to the past will be hard but it's necessary. They have a right to know, he will just have to think how to make the story more believable. His kids know nothing of his icy prison yet and he doesn't want to change that just yet. He stands up to signal them it's time for dinner. James and Rachel stand up with a slight pout about the delay and that they missed the chance of more stories about their mysterious new uncle.
Steve takes their hands and they head towards the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Natasha already scurries through the room when they reach the foot of the stair. She's again in the tank top and sweatpants, her hair is done in a loose ponytail. When she notices Steve's surprised stare, she says: 'Had to distract myself. I called Bruce, he promised to come over tomorrow and help me.'
Steve frowns, noticing the dinner she prepared. 'You worked all day, thought you could need a break. Don't worry, Jarvis supervised everything.', Natasha rushes to say, if he wouldn't know her as well as he does, he wouldn't notice the pressure in her voice. She's wearing her glasses, a testament to just how desperate she is to find a solution. Natasha needs them, not everyday but she certainly can see a lot more street signs while wearing them, but she usually refuses, claiming she'd look old with them. Just her sunglasses, without them she usually doesn't go anywhere.
'I won't be here tomorrow.', Steve reminds her when she starts to scurry through the kitchen again.
'We won't be in the lab, it's more of a theoretical concept. And Bruce is going to bring Danielle.', Natasha tells him without turning. Steve has the feeling she isn't really concentrating on their conversation.
'Danielle is coming?' James smiles widely. He and Banner's daughter are almost of the same age and will in September go to the same elementary school. Steve is glad the children get along well and are friends, at least they will have each other to protect themselves and it makes meetings with the Avengers a lot easier knowing that the kids just play upstairs.
Rachel isn't overly happy about this news though. 'When you are playing you never let me join in.', she complains, then looks up to her father. 'Can I come with you visiting Aunt Tasha?'
Natasha Romanov lives for the time she spends near New York at Barton's place. Lila is a year older than Rachel but they often visit and play with each other when the adults meet to discuss Avengers business.
'I'll call them and ask.' He ruffles her hair and leaves the kitchen to call his friend after making sure his wife wouldn't burn down the Tower in the time Steve would need. Clint agrees immediately, he wanted to take his kids out tomorrow to give Steve and Tasha time to talk and doesn't mind taking his daughter's best friend with him. Since they had moved closer a few months ago because of Barton's work, his kids leaving all their friends behind, Lila had been happy to find Rachel there to play with her and be her friend.
Nat in the meantime seems to have calmed after being stuck in her work. Steve knows this is just a phase, a break from thinking until the next idea hits her and she'd rush off to check that or grab a piece of paper and scribble down some equations to figure out a way to include them.
'Go and set the table.', Steve suggests smiling and James and Rachel run off, both being excited about their plans for the next day. James gets some plates and Rachel the cutlery and they hurry to the dining room. The sun sets and slowly the lights come on, dipping the room in artificial light as the natural one fades.
Steve goes to the stove to peer into the pots. 'Smells good, what are you cooking?', he asks with interest.
'Huh?', Natasha turns around with a frown, trying to remember his question. She isn't really here with her thoughts and seems distracted. She glaces at the pots. 'No idea. Jay?'
Steve can almost hear his wife's invention sigh. 'This is couscous with chicken and vegetables, Mrs. Stark.'
'See, Steve? There you go.' Her face breaks into a grin before she hurries off again.
'Take a break.', he tells her, taking the knife out of her hands to continue where she left off, so she wouldn't hurt herself.
'I am. What do you think I am doing here?', she asks, glaring at him.
Steve smiles, letting her ramble about him not realizing a thing. Eventually she stops though and tries to take the knife back. 'Nat. You'll find a solution. Just.. don't hurt yourself.' He hands her the cutlery, knowing he'd sleep alone in their bed as she'd spend 'the short few hours' until Bruce would arrive, trying to find a solution on her own.
'Of course I will. I'm a genius.' Natasha tuts and turns back to her dinner, continuing to follow Jarvis' instructions. She shoos him out of the kitchen and tells her family to sit down and wait just a minute longer before returning to the kitchen.
Half an hour later which the children spend with questioning Steve about Bucky because despite all the excitement they haven't forgotten about that, Natasha carries in a delicious and not even burned meal.
In the middle of dinner she pulls out a pad, taps it a few times with her pencil but shoves it away again impatiently, then participates the conversation with a lot more enthusiasm, suggesting to watch a movie before bed.
Rachel falls asleep halfway through Snow White and Steve carries James to bed as well, not trusting his son quite to walk up the stairs by himself, being sleep-drugged as he is. Natasha still ponders over her notes.