Title: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair

Disclaimer: not my characters. Title from Langston Hughes.

Warnings: talk of Steve's depression; minor language

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1980

Point of view: third

A week into the New Year, Steve is on his way back on way back to New York just to grab anything he can't live without (which, truth be told, isn't much). "But you're coming back, right?" Yasmin had asked, dark eyes wide, mouth trembling.

Bucky's daughter. Bucky has a little girl and she's amazing, and Bucky's so good with her, just like Steve always knew he'd be with his kids.

"Yes," he promised, gaze going from her to Bucky, who was busy whipping up some eggs. It's the first day of school and Yasmin was all ready, and Steve got to go with them to drop her off, and he still can't stop smiling. "I'll be back tomorrow or the day after, depending on how the team reacts, but I'm coming back. Nothing could keep me away."

"You swear?" she demanded. "You can't break swears or promises."

He nodded firmly. "I swear," he said. "You and Bucky, the two'a you are all I need. But I have to let them know or they'll raise a fuss."

Yasmin sighed. "Okay," she said. "But if you don't come back, me and Bucky are gonna go lookin' for you."

And then they ate breakfast, and then they rode in Bucky's Buick to Yasmin's school, where she kissed them both on the cheek before she slid out, and they watched until she was in the school, and then Bucky drove to the airport, where he and Steve got coffee and sat doing nothing but talking for two hours and then Steve couldn't take any longer or he'd miss his flight.

"I'm coming back," he told Bucky, grabbing his hand. He wanted to kiss him so bad but Bucky still shied away from touch sometimes, and rushed in an airport is not the way their first kiss since 1944 should go.

"If you don't," Bucky said, just the tiniest hint of threat in his tone, "I will come find you."

Steve grinned, squeezed his arm, and then hurried to the check in.

And now he's sitting in coach, trapped between a bored teenager and a snoring old man (yet still younger than Steve), and he can't stop smiling. Hasn't stopped smiling since his second day in Miami, when Yasmin and Bucky took him on a tour of their neighborhood and Steve, for an entire day, forgot about Captain American and the Avengers and anything beyond Bucky's eyes and Yasmin's voice. He met their neighbors in the apartment building, had dinner with Lucia's family, pushed Yasmin on the swings at the park – he was just Steve. Billy Taylor's friend. That was all anyone needed to hear and they welcomed him.

He's so tired. He's been fighting since before he can remember because there are right things and there are wrong things, and somebody's gotta stand up. He's always stood up.

And he still will, of course he will, if something like the Chitauri or Project Insight or Ultron ever happen again – but otherwise, he's done. He'll live in Miami and he'll find a job just so he doesn't get bored and he'll be with Bucky, and he might start feeling alive again.

Steve's done enough research to know that shellshock is depression is no one's fault. It's an illness, like any other he had before the serum. And there's no quick fix for it. But he knows that hanging up the shield and leaving the never-ending fight is a good start.

He just hopes the team doesn't give him a hard time.

…

"Sir, you wished to be informed when Captain Rogers returned," Jarvis announces in the middle of Tony, Bruce, and Jane's latest experiment.

"He's back?" Tony asked. "Good."

It's not the Tony was worried (because he wasn't) or that he didn't know where Steve was (because he did) – but, still. Leaving without letting anyone know? Dick move. And Tony knows from dick moves, okay? But he's grown as a person, so he mostly doesn't do them anymore.

Bruce sighs. "I suppose we're all going to go yell at him?"

Tony nods firmly. "Damn right we are."

Jane rolls her eyes. "Jarvis, make sure Darcy knows, okay? Steve owes her a sketch."

"Of course, Dr. Foster."

They stabilize the experiment, make sure to jot down where they are in the process for it when inevitably fails while they're gone, and then head up to Steve's floor together.

"Where do you think he was?" Jane asks.

Bruce shrugs. "I understand having to leave for a little while," he says, "but my problem is that he didn't warn us. That's the only caveat, you know?"

Jane nods. "That makes total sense," she agrees, turning her head to look at Tony. "You're being awfully quiet over there."

He smirks. "I know where our errant Capcicle went. The Artful Assassins probably do, too – but you really didn't try to figure it out?"

Jane and Bruce share a look that Tony doesn't bother to read.

The elevator opens before either of them says anything else.

…

Natasha is waiting inside Steve's den; she's known since he stepped off the airplane and is trying to determine which approach to take with him. She finally settles on concerned sister/friend and has her expression ready when he opens the door.

"Hi, Nat," he says brightly. "How's your New Year so far?"

"It's going great, Steve," she replies just as brightly. "What about yours? Have you gone gallivanting off without a word to the Sunshine State?" He gives her a glance as he walks past her towards the bedroom. "No, really, tell me all about it," she says, giving him her most earnest look.

"Florida was lovely," he tosses over his shoulder. "You should go sometime if you haven't yet."

She huffs in annoyance. He really is too good at this game. "Steve," she says standing up and going to the doorway, watching him dump the entire contents of his closet into a few separate bags. "Steve, what are you doing?"

He stops and leans his head back, sighing. "I'm retiring, Natasha," he says, turning towards his dresser.

"Because of Barnes?" she asks.

"No." He looks at the shield, propped up in the corner where he'd left it, and Natasha has no idea how to read the emotions that cross his face – regret, grief, joy, and then hope, maybe? "I'm doing this," he says, looking away from the shield and grabbing everything from the top drawer, "because I'm tired of drowning." He actually smiles a real smile, the kind she didn't see at all before Project Insight, and says, "This is me gettin' out of the water."

…

"Did you really think you breeze in here, pack up your shit, and breeze back out?" Darcy demands. "Dude! You gotta give us something."

Look, if Steve wants to head out and stop living on-call for all the wanna-be overlords, that's entirely his business and she wishes him all the luck in the world. But to just sneak out and not tell anyone?

"You're right," he says, pulling a sketchbook out of his backpack. He flips it open and goes through the pages until he finds the right one and tears it out. "Here," he says, holding it out towards Darcy. "A sketch of Bucky, like I promised."

She takes it carefully and looks down: Bucky Barnes in full Howling Commando gear, smirking at something not shown. "Thank you," she says reverently.

"Okay, that's sugar-coma inducing," Stark breaks in. "But don't you think you should tell everyone where you were, Captain?"

Darcy watches the way Steve's eyes linger on the sketch in her hands and figures she knows.

…

They all settle in the communal entertainment room and Steve stands at attention in front of them all. Clint wonders why any of them are surprised; he's sure not. This has been coming from the moment Steve realized Bucky Barnes wasn't exactly dead.

"Bucky has a life in Miami," Steve starts. "He's happy. And there's room for me." He doesn't look at any of them, choosing some spot on the wall to talk at. "So I'm going."

"As Steve Rogers?" Tasha asks before anyone else can say anything. "Or are you going to assume a cover identity like William Taylor?"

Steve shrugs. "I'll do whatever Bucky wants."

Tasha scoffs. "That's sloppy, Rogers."

"Is Bucky's cover sloppy?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow and actually glancing at Tasha.

"… no," she grudgingly admits. "It's quite impressive, actually."

Nodding, Steve says, "Well, there you are." He sighs. "I need to thank each of you for your… your support while I looked for Bucky. For your friendship. But I can't…" He shakes his head. "I can't be Captain America anymore."

"And you really think we're gonna let you go without meeting your roommates?" Stark demands. "Without making sure the neighbors aren't plants?"

"Tony," Steve sighs, "you expect me to believe you haven't done that already?"

Stark looks uncomfortable for a moment; Clint glances at Natasha, who nods.

"Well, we have to at least meet them!" Stark argues.

Clint looks around the room; most everyone is wearing a face like they want to say something but can't think of what, so Clint rolls his eyes and decides what the hell, why not. "We'll give you a month to get settled, Ca- Steve. And then we'll pop in every now again and twos and threes. How's that sound?"

Stark glares at him but Steve nods, looking relieved.

"I'll create a schedule," Pepper adds. "Before any final decisions are made, I'll send it to you and – "

"Billy Taylor," Steve says. His smile is so fucking sad when he says, "Bucky Barnes is dead, remember?" And then, "Jarvis, I need to update what you call Bucky."

"He shall be Mr. Taylor from now on, Mr. Rogers," Jarvis says.

Stark barks out a laugh. "Oh, that's fuckin' precious."

Steve rolls his eyes, so Clint assumes he gets the reference.

…

Steve spends the night at the tower and in the morning they all have breakfast together; everyone cycles around to Steve to say goodbye, even if they don't use that word. Sam is the last and the only one to go with to the airport. (Was anyone surprised when Steve turned down Stark's private jet? Nope.)

"Thank you so much, Sam," Steve says as they wait in the check-in line. "I honestly have no idea what would've happened if I didn't meet you that morning."

Sam thinks about Riley and then he pats Steve's shoulder. "No problem, man. It's been a crazy-ass ride. Place's gonna be so quiet without you."

Steve chuckles, pulling him into a back-breaking hug. "Seriously," he says softly. "Thank you, Sam."

Sam nods. "I'm gonna come see you, give your boy a speech or two." Steve grins at him and then it's his turn at the desk. Sam goes with him as far as he can, wondering –

Steve has been so different since they got back from Europe. Lighter. Happier, Sam thinks. On their world tour of blowing shit up, Steve was a cold, focused laser, and just a bit terrifying, in all honesty. At the time, Sam had thought he just didn't get angry and lash out; he knows better, now. Steve was enraged that whole time and he was merciless with it.

But Steve now… he waves at Sam and heads further into the airport. Sam watches him go and can't decide if he's happy or not.

…

Nick answers the phone with a barked, "What, Rogers, this is not a good time."

"I'm retiring, sir," Rogers says. "Of course I'll step up if something world-ending is happening, and Bucky probably will, too. Otherwise, though, don't call me. I won't come." And the fucker hangs up.

Nick glares down at his phone and doesn't bother calling Rogers back. He calls Romanoff instead, and her explanation for letting him get blindsided had better be good.