Age
Tony sighed and looked in the mirror, glaring at the wrinkles that marred his forehead. He wasn't vain, far from it, but he didn't like the idea that he was older than the other Avengers either.
None of them would ever say anything, but he didn't like the idea that someday, they might go out to fight, and he'll be left at home, alone.
Steve poked his head into the bathroom. "Hey, Tony, do you know where the soap is?"
Tony looked at Steve's reflection in the mirror, and noticed for the first time that Steve doesn't need to shave, even this early in the morning. "Yeah. Try the fourth door to the right in your hall." Steve had gotten half a floor of the tower to himself when Pepper found out that he liked solitude. Tony had agreed with her, mostly because he didn't want Steve to get lost while looking for the gym and end up in one of his labs and breaking something.
"Oh, okay. I can never remember that. Thanks." Steve nodded and grinned at him, before leaving.
~Steve Rogers is Captain America!~
Steve looked uncertainly at the razor resting in his hands. There had been a stack of them in his personal supply cabinet, and he was the first to admit he had never used one. Had never needed to use one. But he had glanced in the mirror this morning and noticed that his jaw line was shaded slightly darker than it should have been, and he had remembered that when this had happened to Bucky, he had started shaving.
But still… He didn't want to. He didn't want to shave. It would mean he was growing up, and leaving his past behind him. And if that wasn't scary, Steve didn't know what was. But he also couldn't just grow a beard.
Reluctantly, Steve went into his bathroom, carrying the razor, a blade, and a can of shaving cream. Carefully following the instructions on the can, Steve Rogers shaved his face for the first time. He cut himself twice, but by the time he was done, they were already half-healed, leaving only faint red lines to mark what had just taken place.
~Steve Rogers is Captain America!~
Natasha studied the contents of the fridge, eyeing the yogurt. A door banged open behind her, but she ignored it, recognizing the soft tread of Steve as he padded through the kitchen in his socks, Mission following him.
"Hey, Natasha." Steve greeted the assassin as he opened one of the cupboards to retrieve a can of cat food for the purring feline at his feet.
"Steve." She nodded, taking the yogurt and closing the refrigerator door before snatching her spoon out of her coffee mug.
"Good morning." Steve shoveled the cat food into Missions bowl, before covering the can with plastic wrap and setting it in the fridge. He placed the bowl in front of Mission, and smiled as she gulped her way through it.
Natasha stared at the Avengers' team leader. Sunlight streamed in from the kitchen window, bathing his face in the soft glow and emphasizing the curves and rounds of his features as the grin wreaths his face. Somehow, he looked younger, without responsibility weighing him down and his cat scarfing down food at his sock-covered feet.
Natasha felt slightly shaken. Steve couldn't be younger than twenty-three, could he?
~Steve Rogers is Captain America!~
A week later, Clint was reading Moby Dick (again) when Steve popped up in the common living room.
"Oh, hey." He smiled easily, Mission in his hands, his own book under one arm. "You liked that?" He nodded at Clint's book.
Clint glanced up at him, then back down at the page. "Yeah. It's kind of cool."
Steve chuckled, sitting down on the opposite recliner. "I never got around to reading it." He admitted. "I was supposed to in-" Steve stopped. "Uh, I mean, I meant to read it, but never got around to it."
Clint looked up at Steve again, this time, his interest fully focused. "When were you supposed to read it? Don't tell me," he grinned evilly. Steve felt a writhing mass of nerves that was supposed to be his stomach erupt. "That Captain America skipped school assignments?"
Steve chuckled nervously, a relieved grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, even the mighty Steve Rogers skipped school assignments in graduating year. I mean, of course I went to twelfth grade and I graduated, all of SHEILD's records could tell you that." He began to babble, clutching his book a little too tightly, body tense and cat forgotten on his lap.
Clint blinked at Steve. "Steve, you're rambling."
"Oh, uh, yeah. I'm gonna go now. Lots of stuff to do. Bye." Steve hurriedly stood up, Mission falling out of his lap. She blinked up at him as he left, shutting the door behind him, apparently not believing that her nice owner had dropped her, and then left the room.
Mission hopped onto Clint's lap and curled up purring. Clint scratched her ears, looking at the door, confusion swirling inside his mind.
~Steve Rogers is Captain America!~
Bruce groaned, ruffling his hair with one hand, other hand holding a tablet. Tony, sitting beside him, looked over.
"Huh. What's the fancy equation for?" He asked, scanning the numbers and variables over quickly.
"Oh, nothing much. I think I might have figured out one of the chemical compounds of Veritorse*, but my equation isn't working out, so maybe not." Bruce tapped in a few numbers. The small computer beeped, and showed the wrong result. Again.
"I wouldn't be too put out." Steve was also in the lab, trying to sketch some beakers and fill out a report for Fury at the same time. "No one's figured it out yet for a reason. It's hard." He stuck his tongue out between his teeth as he made a quick curve with his pencil, before frowning at it and erasing it.
"Remind me why you're in the lab, anyway." Tony grumbled.
Steve grinned. "Because you two are supposed to be filling out reports and Pepper doesn't want a hole in the living room floor again."
"That was an accident!" Tony huffed. "How was I supposed to know that large quantities of baking soda and vinegar incased in a small projectile would pack enough punch to tear holes in stuff?"
Bruce and Steve laughed. "You're supposed to be a genius, yet you didn't know that." Steve chortled.
"So?"
"Sure. Hey, what's the date?" Steve asked, switching from his sketch back to his report.
"Uh, the twenty-seventh." Bruce glanced at the calendar on the wall in front of him.
"You don't say?" Steve blinked. "It's June, right?"
"Yeah, why?" Tony asked, filling out his own report.
"Nothing."
"Oh, wait. You're birthday is on the fourth of July, isn't it?" Tony's eyes lit up. "Sweet! Party!"
"How old will you be?" Bruce asked, starting on his own report with a sigh.
"Twenty-four." Steve answered quickly. Too quickly. Both scientists looked up at him.
"Are you two done?" Steve asked, face red. "I've got to go start supper." He left the room in a hurry, nearly tripping over his own feet and the door jam.
"You know," Tony looked at Bruce, "I bet he isn't twenty-three. And I bet he's younger. By a long shot." Bruce nodded.
~Steve Rogers is Captain America!~
July fourth arrived. Pepper had gotten wind that it was Steve's birthday and made a huge chocolate cake, frosted with a white base and red and blue stars. The rest of the team had somehow managed to procure gifts from somewhere, and the various sized boxes, all wrapped in some variant of red, white and blue, were stacked on the table.
Tony had insisted that a grill-out on the roof of Avengers tower was in order, and bought a special grill, steaks, hamburgers and hotdogs. As an afterthought, he had included a salad.
Thor had returned from Asguard for the occasion, bearing his own large wooden box that he had set down on the ground next to the other gifts.
In all ways, the party was in full swing. Clint was taunting Tony, Tony was trying to talk about a new hacking system with Bruce, Pepper and Natasha were making a few last minute calls to caterers (they, unlike Tony, didn't think that meat and beer made a meal.) and Thor was egging Clint on. In fact, the only one missing was the birthday boy himself.
Natasha snapped shut her phone and looked around. "Hey, guys, food'll be here in forty minutes. So, start cooking in ten." She had noticed Steve wasn't there, and a quick glance at Pepper showed that the other red-head had noticed too. "Come on." Natasha tugged her arm. "Let's go find him." She whispered.
"Hey, where are you two going?" Tony emerged from the argument long enough to ask as the two women headed into the tower.
"Girl problems." Pepper called back.
The billionaire paled slightly and nodded. "Uh, okay. Don't hurry." He quickly ducked back into the escalating fight.
Pepper and Natasha glanced at each other, stifling grins. If they ever wanted to sneak out of anywhere with these guys around, all they would have to say is 'Girl problems' and the superheroes would fall over each other to help them to the door.
"Where do you think he is?" Pepper asked Natasha once the door was shut behind them and the others couldn't hear them.
"His gym." Natasha answered promptly. She had noticed that whenever Steve got emotionally frustrated, he would head into his personal gym and begin beating on a punching bag. There was lots of other equipment in the room, and Steve used all of it, but when he was confused, the only thing he touched was the duct-taped red bag suspended from the ceiling.
Pepper nodded. She punched the button for the elevator, and a few minutes later, they were striding into the room. Steve was in there, pounding the poor bag like it had done him a personal wrong. He didn't notice Pepper or Natasha, but kept his focus centered on his fists.
"Steve." Pepper laid one hand on his arm. He jumped, and turned to face her, perfect Captain America smile already taped to his face.
"Pepper, Natasha." He greeted them, putting his hands behind his back like a guilty two year old who was found with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Stuff it, Cap." Natasha ordered, crossing her arms. "And for the love of Pete, drop the smile. We all know it's faker than Tony's hair."
Steve slumped, arms loose at his sides, smile gone. "Sorry I'm not up there. Let me get cleaned up. You guys go ahead."
Pepper patted his back. "You know that's not why we're here."
Steve stepped away from her and began to unwind the guaze from his hands. "I'm fine. Really. Just head up. I'll be up in a bit."
Natasha glowered at him. "Rogers." She barked. "Sit down."
Steve obeyed orders (really, who didn't when Natasha used 'that tone'), and sat down heavily on one of the benches near the door.
"Steve, come on, what's wrong?" Pepper sat down next to him, one hand rubbing comforting circles on his shoulders.
Steve fiddled with the guaze on one hand. "Nothing."
"Bullshit." Natasha plopped down next to him. "A guy doesn't just pound on a bag of sawdust on his birthday while his best friends are making him a meal on his birthday. So spit it out." Her hand, like Pepper's, began to make comforting tracks around his shoulder.
Steve sighed. "You're scary, you know that?" He offered Natasha a half-grin. She nodded, and waited silently for him to start talking.
"I'm not twenty-four." Steve mumbled. Pepper raised her eyebrows at Natasha. Neither of them said anything. "I'm barely a legal adult." Steve continued, still playing with the guaze in his hands. Both women remained silent, their hands never pausing the the comforting circles. "I'm-" Steve paused, and swallowed thickly. "I just turned eighteen today." He confessed.
He glanced up, but neither Pepper nor Natasha's face held any judgement, just smiles. "Steve, we guessed that you were younger than twenty." Pepper informed him.
"You did?" Steve asked, looking her in the eye, confusion plainly written across his face.
"Yeah." Natasha nodded. "You only started shaving recently, you shuffle your feet, your face is still round, and you probably want me to stop now." Steve nodded.
"What about the others?" He rasped. "Do they know?"
Pepper's mouth quirked. "Tony doesn't notice that he hasn't eaten for days on end until I force food into his mouth."
"Clint and Banner probably have guessed, though." Natasha shrugged. "They're both observers."
"And I think that Thor doesn't care." Pepper smiled. "None of them do. Whether you're eighteen or twenty-four, they still know you'll fight for them and lead them."
"And eat all the ice cream when we get back from missions." Natasha added, grinning wickedly. With his metabolism, Steve ran out of energy faster than the others. So whenthey got back to the Tower from missions, Steve would make a beeline for the fridge and any sugary, fatty, pumped-full-of-calories food he could find.
"That was one time!" Steve blushed.
"Actually, more like five times." Natasha sniggered.
"Okay, okay, children. That's enough." Pepper broke in, but she was smiling as widely as the other two. "Come on Steve, go get cleaned up. You've got a birthday party to get to. And the caterers will be here any minute, and I really don't want Tony to get the door. He'll send them away."
"Oh, yeah." Steve grinned back and imitated Tony: "But, Pepper, what more do you need? Beer, meat, look, I even got a salad for you!"
Natasha snickered. "Yeah, that'd be Tony."
~Steve Rogers is Captain America!~
"Happy birthday!" Tony clapped Steve on th shulder. "So how old are you, again?"
Steve steeled himself and drew upright in a perfect at attention form. "I'm eighteen." He said clearly.
Tony blinked at him. "Well, what do you know, I was right." He turned to Clint. "Pay up."
Grumbling, the archer reached into his pocket and handed Tony a wad of money. "See, I said you were eighteen, Clint bet nineteen. And these two wet blankets," Tony waved at Bruce and Thor, "Wouldn't bet. Thor said something about not being able to judge age difference."
Steve blinked at Tony. "You knew?" He asked incredulously.
"What? Was I not supposed to? Sorry, but the fact that you don't shave is a dead giveaway. Oh, and you stumbled all over your words while you were supposed to be watching Bruce and I fill out reports a week ago." Tony explained. "Want a beer? You're under age, but if you can hold it, hey, who here is going to judge?"**
"Steve," Thor greeted his companion. "Your deeds are mighty for your age. You deserve this." And without any further warning, Thor dropped the box he had carried in into Steve's arms.
"Ah, thanks." Steve pushed the huge box onto a table. Carefully, he pried it open. A sword, long and gleaming, sat on a bed of Asguardian cloth. "Whoa." He breathed, carefully lifting the sword from its nest.
"As you have a shield, it seemed only right that you should possess a sword. Whether or not you choose to use it in battle, I leave the decision to you." Thor grinned at him.
Steve didn't respond. He was too busy exaiming the shining blade in his hands.
"Great. Now my gift looks cheap." Tony grumbled. Laughter broke out. Carefully, Steve rplaced the sword into its box.
"Let's see?" He smiled. "Does it?"
~Steve Rogers is Captain America!~
Yeah, there are probably several thousand of these 'Steve-is-younger-than-he-claims' stories on this site. But before I ever got on this fanfiction archive, it struck me as suspicious that Steve never had stubble in the movies. So, this was an original idea, even if it isn't any more.
*I don't think that Veritorse is a chemical. It's just something I made up. I think.
**Steve was not an under-age drinker in the movie. That law didn't get passed until 1984, at which point Steve was frozen. And honestly, if he burns his alcohol so fast that he can't get drunk, alcohol is little more than kool-aide for him, isn't it?
So, please review, tell me if you liked this or not (I see my followers and favoriters count go up. Someone likes it. Someone should review). And beware that if you didn't like it, I'll still keep writing. I rejoice in flames.
'Til next time!
-The Irish Lass