Steve shivered as the icy Arctic wind seeped through the cracks in the Valkyrie's windshield, whipping against his skin and through his hair as he attempted to make heads or tails of the control panel in front of him. None of it was familiar, the controls nothing like those in the cockpit in the Quinjet or in the plane Howard had flown him in to Austria to search for Bucky. From what he could see through the window and discern from the settings of the various dials and knobs, his altitude was steady, with water visible through the soft, puffy clouds beneath the massive aircraft as far as he could see. But based on what he could decipher from the plane's current course headings, he wouldn't be over the water for too much longer. The aircraft was on a direct collision course with New York, no doubt heading directly for the Tower, but so far all of Steve's attempts to contact Tony or Sam to warn them had been futile. JARVIS was no longer responding, which Steve was choosing to assume was due to the radiation burst the Tesseract had generated right before it disappeared. Steve remembered Tony and Bruce saying that the Tesseract emanated a gamma radiation signature, which he knew in large amounts could be harmful based on what had happened to Bruce, so who's to say that it couldn't knock out a UI-controlled comm system as well?
That assumption was at least far, far better than the alternative, which was that Tony and Peter were already—
"No!" he said, giving his head a hard shake. "I can't—I'm not—"
Steve couldn't go there. He just couldn't. He had to assume that his husband and son and the rest of the team were all fine until he had rock-solid proof that they weren't.
And they had to be fine. They just had to. The Avengers were the world's last, best hope against the Chitauri. If they fell, then the rest of the world would follow, and that was something that Steve could not allow to happen.
"JARVIS, are you there? JARVIS, please come in," Steve tried again, shaking his head in frustration when the UI failed to respond. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to stamp down his welling panic as he scanned the strange controls again, searching for anything he might be able to use to send a message. A button finally caught his eye, one that looked so like the old communication devices he had used back during the war that he blinked, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes to make sure that he wasn't just seeing things.
Which apparently he wasn't, because when he looked again, the button was still there. Pursing his lips, Steve pushed it.
"Uhh, this is Captain Steve Rogers," he said, grateful when his voice didn't tremble. "Come in, please. Does anyone read me?"
"Captain Rogers!" came the frantic response of a man, so quickly that Steve nearly collapsed in relief. The man's voice sounded familiar, almost eerily so, but Steve had no time to waste on trying to figure out why. He had already spent way too long trying to figure out the plane's controls, and time was in too short of a supply to waste on nonessential details.
"Captain Rogers, what is your location?" the man asked.
"Um…" Steve said as he scanned his trajectory readout again, his heart lurching when he saw that he was only minutes away from New York. "Um… I'm on a straight shot for New York City, and I can't—I can't seem to figure out how to change it. This plane is heavily armoured, which means if it gets to New York, a lot of people are gonna die. Including my—my—"
"It's okay, Steve," another voice suddenly said over the radio. This time it was a woman, and one that Steve could instantly place.
Peggy Carter.
"Um… Peggy? Is that—is that… you? " Steve asked, his head swirling in confusion. He and Tony had last visited Peggy about two years ago, shortly before she passed away in her sleep in the D.C. nursing home where she had lived for the last decade or so. They had even made the trip out to London shortly afterwards to attend her funeral, leaving Peter behind only because they hadn't wanted him to miss more school.
So how in the world could she be talking to him right now?
"Of course it's me, Captain," Peggy responded in the sharp tone she'd always reserved for the insubordinate Science Division recruits. "Now, give us your coordinates and we'll find you a safe landing site."
"But… you're supposed to be—" Steve broke off, gulping down the rest of his words. As confused as he was, there literally was no time to waste on trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He had to do something now, or Tony and Peter, along with millions of others, would die.
"Nevermind that now," he said instead. "This aircraft is heading straight for New York, and the course controls seem to be frozen. I need to figure out a way to—"
"Steve, it's okay," Peggy cut in. "I promise, they'll be okay."
"What?" Steve said. He let out a violent shiver as the wind whistling through the windshield cracks suddenly picked up speed. "What're you talking about? Who will be okay?"
"Your husband, and your son," she said, causing Steve's belly to sink to his knees. "Steve, they'll be okay, but only if you do what you know you have to do."
Steve's throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, fighting against the tears threatening to appear.
"And what's that?" he asked, even as he feared that he already knew the answer.
"I think you already know, Steve," Peggy said softly. "Don't you?"
"Yes," Steve said on a gasp, gripping the steering controls even tighter. "I've got to put her in the water."
"Yes, that's it," said Peggy. "But don't worry. You won't be alone. I'll be right here until it's over."
A strangled cry forced its way from Steve's throat. "And—and will you—will you make sure that they're—that they understand? 'Cause I'm not—I'm not sure that they will, and—"
"They will, I promise," Peggy whispered. "Maybe not right away, but eventually they'll come around. Tony is not Howard, Steve, remember that. He will never neglect his child because he lost you."
"Oh God," Steve choked out, his lower lip shaking. "No, I know he's not, and I know he won't. Tony is such an amazing father, and the most wonderful partner I ever could've asked for. I'm—I'm going to miss him." He hastily swiped at an errant tear before it could freeze on his cheek. "And Peter, he's—there's no way I could ever be prouder of him than I am. Someday, he's going to change the world."
"Yes, Peter is a doll, is he not?" Peggy said, and Steve could hear the wide smile in her voice. "And he knows how much you love him, Steve, he and Tony both. That will help them get through what's to come."
Steve nodded, sniffing. "You—you promise?"
"Yes," Peggy murmured. "I promise."
"You promise," he whispered. "All right then." Curling his fingers around the yoke, Steve began to steer the massive plane down towards the white puffy clouds, his lower lip caught tightly between his teeth to help keep his sobs in check. Despite his brave words, Steve was scared out of his wits. He had already done this very same thing once before, and knowing what was likely going to happen to him was far, far worse than believing he was going to die the first time around.
Who knew how long he would be frozen this time? Knowing Tony, it probably wouldn't be over sixty-five years, but would he even still be alive once Steve was found? Would Peter?
Were they still alive even now? Or had the Chitauri already begun their attack?
The wind was even stronger once he emerged from the clouds, with drops of salty condensation pelting him in the face as he continued his downward trajectory, his heart firmly lodged in his throat.
He had only a few seconds left.
"Peggy!" he cried as a beam of sunlight suddenly reflected off the smooth-as-a-mirror water, shining directly into his eyes. "Peggy, please! Tell them that I love them! Tell them that I had no other choice, that it was either this or—!"
Steve woke with a start, shivering and panting as he shot bolt upright on the bed. He gasped as he hugged his knees to his chest, glancing frantically around the room as he tried to get his bearings, his lungs screaming for air and his skin burning from the freezing cold Arctic water that he had just crashed a plane into for the second time.
Only, he hadn't. Because, despite what he had thought, he actually wasn't in a plane about to crash into the frigid Arctic water, he was in his bedroom in Avengers Tower. The bedroom he shared with Tony, his husband, which also meant that Peter was sleeping in his own bedroom just down the hall.
"Oh my God," he whispered as he squeezed his eyes closed, drawing in a deep breath through his nose.
He was okay. Tony and Peter were okay. It had all been a dream.
Just another terrible, awful, no-good nightmare.
"Captain Rogers?" JARVIS suddenly asked, his subdued voice still nearly launching Steve off the bed. "Are you in need of assistance?"
"What?" Steve asked as he glanced up at the ceiling, swiping droplets of cold sweat from his forehead. "JARVIS?"
"Yes, Captain," answered JARVIS. "How may I be of service?"
Steve shook his head, sucking more air into his hungry lungs as he released the iron grip on his knees and glanced down to where Tony was lying next to him, curled onto his right side like he usually was. For a moment, Steve could only stare at him, certain that his eyes were trying to trick him as he raised his hand and placed it carefully on Tony's shoulder, a choked sob of relief tearing from his throat as he realised that no, Tony wasn't just a figment of his imagination. He was actually real.
"JARVIS, is Peter all right?" he asked.
"Yes, Captain," answered JARVIS. "Master Peter is currently sleeping peacefully, with all vital signs within his normal parameters."
"Oh," Steve said as his shoulders sagged in relief. "Oh, that's—that's good. Thank you."
"You are quite welcome, Captain," said JARVIS. "Is there anything else I might do to help?"
"No, I'm—" he started, tightening his grip on Tony's shoulder as he drew in another deep breath. Peter was okay. Tony was okay, and now he was okay. It had only been a bad dream.
Nothing more than a nightmare.
"I think—I think I'm—I'm all right, now, JARVIS," he said. "Thank you."
"Very well, Captain," JARVIS said warily, prompting Steve to frown at the ceiling.
"But if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you could cancel my alarm for the morning," he added. It had been over three weeks since he'd taken a morning off from running, and despite his blatant attempts to ignore it, his left foot was definitely starting to notice.
"Of course, Captain," replied JARVIS. "Shall I also inform Mr Wilson that you will not be accompanying him for your usual run?"
"Yes, please. Thank you," said Steve. "Please tell him that I'll talk to him later in the day."
"Very good, Captain."
Raking his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, Steve carefully laid back down next to Tony, draping his arm across his husband's waist and tucking himself up behind him. Then he buried his nose into the nape of Tony's neck, struggling to keep his roiling emotions in check. While it wasn't unheard of for Steve to occasionally revisit his flight on the Valkyrie in his nightmares, this time it had been different.
This time it had almost seemed as though his two separate timelines, pre-ice and post-ice, had somehow become merged together into one semi-coherent series of events, something that Steve was absolutely certain he had no desire to ever experience. He had flown the Valkyrie into the Arctic water to keep it from unleashing its Tesseract-powered bombs onto New York City, and that's exactly what he had been doing in the dream as well. Only in his dream it had been in the here and now, not 1944, which meant that—
"Oh, God!" Steve gasped as he drew Tony even closer, causing him to flinch. "Please, no!"
Please, don't let us be caught off guard like that!
"S'eve? What's—okay?" Tony mumbled as he shifted under Steve's arm, turning to face him. Guilt flashed through Steve's body like a flare as Tony's eyes struggled to blink open, finally giving up as his palm thudded on Steve's shoulder. "What's—what's—?"
"Shh, sweetheart, it's okay," Steve whispered as he kissed Tony's forehead, brushing his thumb along his cheekbone. "Go back to sleep."
"Mmm," muttered Tony as his right eye cracked open just wide enough to glare in Steve's direction. "You first."
The corners of Steve's lips curled into the slightest of smiles. "Together," he said. "Okay?"
Tony huffed, ducking his head down under Steve's chin as he slid his leg over Steve's hip. "You're lucky you're cute."
"No, I'm lucky you love me," Steve answered. He wove his fingers through Tony's soft hair, his jaw tightening as he tried to keep his tears contained. He had no business waking Tony, not after how hard he had fought to get him to sleep in the first place. After an almost three-day stint where he had barely come out of his lab, not even swapping out Tony's coffee for decaf had been enough to get him to stop, finally forcing Steve to have to resort to begging him to take a break. Steve absolutely hated when he had to do that, as it felt very manipulative to him and always ended with him having to yell at Tony. But he needed Tony to stay as healthy as possible, both for his own sake and for Steve and Peter's.
If what they were potentially facing was as bad as Thor feared, then the entire team needed to be at its absolute best at all times. And that meant making sure that Tony slept more than a few hours every three days.
Thankfully, it didn't take long for Tony's body to relax and his breathing to even out. Letting out a slow sigh of relief, Steve pressed another kiss to the top of Tony's head and closed his eyes, willing himself to think of something—anything—else besides his fateful flight into the ice.
A mission that proved to be futile, as minute after minute slowly ticked by. Steve watched through their bedroom windows as the stars moved across the sky, telling himself that he wasn't scanning for possible incoming attacks, but knowing he was only lying to himself. And then, as the first tiny slivers of light began to peek through the surrounding skyscrapers, he shifted again, carefully tucking the blankets up over Tony's shoulder before sliding out of the bed and padding towards the bathroom. He still wasn't planning to go running, as his foot did need the break, but there was no sense in just lying in bed when he wasn't asleep. Time was short, and there were plenty of other things he could be working on instead.
Like trying to figure out how to defend the planet against another alien invasion.
The team had come home from their trip to Wakanda both rejuvenated and with a sense of optimism that they had sorely needed. For Steve, though, both of those had only lasted a few days before dread began to seep back in, weighing on him like a leaden cape draped across his shoulders. Every spare moment he could find he spent strategising, sometimes with Sam and Bucky's help but most of the time alone, while Tony shut himself up in his lab, refusing to take off his nanite armour case for any reason and constantly building things in his own attempt to beat back his demons of fear. More equipment for the team, including an upgraded version of Sam's Falcon pack, new Widow's Bites for Nat, and a new bow and hundreds of new arrows for Clint. Then there were the new armoured suits, two of which went to James down in D.C. as upgrades for his War Machine armour, but most used to repopulate the Iron Legion that had been retired ever since Tony had perfected his defence drone design. The Iron Legion suits now numbered close to thirty, at Steve's last count, and had been placed at strategic positions throughout the Tower and Compound's properties, programmed to launch at the first sign of anything out of the ordinary. Tony had even asked Principal Morita if he could station three of the suits at Peter's school, but was turned down when Morita reminded Tony that he would first have to receive approval from the city's school board. Since neither Steve nor Tony wanted to involve any branch of government in any of their plans, no matter how local or small, they had instead settled on positioning two of the suits inside the Tower's roof facing the school, ready to launch if given a signal by either Steve, Tony, or Peter.
And while Steve was grateful for the extra protection that the suits provided, especially for Peter, he did not like how stressed out Tony had become because of it, and his complete failure to help alleviate even a tiny amount of Tony's stress even less so. Steve always had far, far preferred to be on the offensive instead of defensive and had always despised waiting, so this whole waiting-around-for-something-to-happen and trying-to-prepare-for-anything mentality he was in was not only harder than hell, it was also just plain annoying.
But with no idea when or even if another attack might occur, at the moment, that was all Steve could do.
After taking a shower that was so burning hot he could barely stand it, Steve shuffled his way into the kitchen, quickly whipping up a half a dozen scrambled eggs and a large stack of homemade pancakes. His notes from the night before were still scattered across the kitchen table as he sat down, pouring syrup over his steaming hot pancakes as he shuffled through the various pages that, according to Bucky, closely resembled football play diagrams.
Whether or not they would turn out to be effective plays, Steve had no idea. Hence the majority of his frustration.
If only he knew better what to expect. During the war, Steve had known exactly who his enemy was and where they were hiding, and so only had to come up with good ways to beat them.
Which he had. It had been Steve's plans that had led to the successful raids against the HYDRA facilities scattered across Western Europe, and it had been his idea and his strategy that had allowed him to be captured by Johann Schmidt, the Red Skull himself, and ultimately defeat him.
Now, though, it was as if Steve was flying blind in the dark. Even when the Chitauri had first attacked New York, the team had still had some advance warning thanks to Loki divulging his plan to Thor. They had known that the sceptre had been involved in Loki's theft of the Tesseract, and were able to successfully beat him and the Chitauri back thanks to Tony's flight through the portal.
But here, Steve could only guess what the team would potentially be up against. There was little doubt in his mind that when the Chitauri did return, they would do so in far greater numbers, and with the power of potentially multiple infinity gems spurring them on, Steve had no way of knowing just how powerful they might be.
There were just far too many unknowns. Steve had never liked having to strategise without all of the variables, as it just left behind too many ways that things could go wrong. Battles by their very existence were already barely-controlled chaos, so any sense of control that Steve could add through his strategising would only help keep the chaos to a minimum.
And it was up to him to do so, as arrogant as it may have sounded. After both SHIELD and the government allowed HYDRA to grow undetected to the point where they nearly attained unmatchable power, there was no one who Steve could trust to help outside of his team.
In fact, something that he had only chosen to share with a couple select people, namely Tony and Sam, Steve still was firmly convinced that if he hadn't crashed the Valkyrie into the water, there would've been no way that HYDRA would've been able to take cover under SHIELD's umbrella, biding its time until it could reemerge and wreak havoc on the world. Steve would've discovered them, if not right away then eventually. And he would have stopped them.
And how things might have been different if he had done so! Would the Chitauri have even bothered with Earth if Howard hadn't accidentally found the Tesseract after the war, paving the way for HYDRA to resume their secret work with it? Nick Fury had stated that it had been Thor's appearance in New Mexico that had led to the Chitauri's initial interest in conquering the planet, but that hadn't been the whole truth. Loki was already familiar with Earth as one of the Nine Realms of Yggdrasil, but it had been the presence of the Tesseract that had lured Loki there, which meant that it had likely been the infinity gem hidden inside the glowing blue cube that the Chitauri leaders were after when they had promised to elevate Loki to Earth's ruler. Loki had just been a pawn in their game.
Even so, as much as Steve liked to contemplate the possible 'what ifs?', all of that would have required him to have been in two places at once, since there was no way in hell he would trade his current life for a theoretical one where he hadn't spent decades encased in ice. Even thinking about it was a moot point, and therefore simply a waste of time. He was constantly telling both Tony and Peter that it did absolutely no good to dwell on things that couldn't be changed, and, despite what his nightmare may have indicated, it was impossible to be in both the past and the present at the same time. Steve had heard Bruce, Tony, and Peter all corroborate that at some point or another, and if three of the smartest people on the entire planet all agreed on something, then Steve was well-inclined to believe them.
It was only a bad dream. Nothing more.
Picking up his pencil, Steve quickly became so engrossed in his work that he didn't even notice Peter entering the kitchen until he said, "Good morning," startling Steve so badly that he almost knocked over his chair.
"Oh no, Papa, I'm so sorry!" Peter said as he rushed forward, gathering up a few of Steve's papers that had fluttered to the floor. "I didn't mean to scare you!"
"No, no, little guy, it's okay," Steve said. He pressed his palm to his chest, over his thudding heart. "I think I just lost track of time is all."
Peter frowned, only adding to his adorably disheveled look. He had needed a haircut since before they had left for Wakanda, and now, almost three weeks later, his curls were pretty much out of control.
"Are you sure that's all it was?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow in such a perfect imitation of Tony that Steve's heart lurched. "'Cause I'm pretty sure you almost dented the ceiling with how high you just jumped."
"Yes, I'm sure," Steve said as he got to his feet. "Are you hungry for some breakfast?"
"You're kidding, right?" Peter asked, making a beeline for the refrigerator, and the huge bottle of orange juice that they replaced every two days or so. Twisting off the cap, Peter was just raising it up to his mouth when he caught Steve's eye. "Um… yeah. I'll, uh, get a glass."
Steve chuckled as he clapped his hand on his son's shoulder. "That's better," he said. "And when you're done, you can help me make you some scrambled eggs and pancakes, hmm?"
"Uh huh," said Peter. "Sounds good."
Since it had already been over an hour since he'd eaten, Steve prepared enough for the two of them, deliberately setting aside his work so he could focus exclusively on his son while they ate. He listened intently as Peter talked about everything from the latest Lego set he was coveting to the experiment he and Gwen were running in their chemistry lab, something having to do with designing a new type of Plexiglass. It seemed so normal, as the two of them had talked over breakfast hundreds of times before, especially given Tony's lack of appreciation for mornings. But this time, for some reason, it seemed to hit Steve a bit differently.
Despite all of Steve and Tony's attempts to ignore the inevitable, Peter was growing up, and it wouldn't be too much longer before he went away to college and mornings like these would only be a memory. And Steve was determined to enjoy every single possible second he got with Peter before that happened.
"Well, I think it's just gonna be you and me for the school run this morning, little guy," he said as they stacked their dishes in the dishwasher. "As long as that's okay with you."
"Yeah, that's fine," Peter said quickly. "I'm glad Dad's still sleeping. He needs it."
"Yes, he definitely does," agreed Steve. He glanced up at the wall clock. "Think you can be ready in about ten minutes? I thought we might take the bike this morning since it's so nice out."
"Really?" Peter exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up so high that they disappeared under his hair. "Oh, that'd be awesome, Papa! I'll go pack up my stuff!"
Steve smiled as he watched him race out of the kitchen, rolling his shoulders to try and loosen his stress-tight muscles. It had been a long time since he'd driven Peter to school on his motorcycle. With Peter's body temp instability combined with the rather finicky spring that New York had had so far, it just hadn't been warm enough to do so until now.
"All right," he said as Peter joined him in the living room, ready to go. "You've got everything, right? Glasses? Earplugs? Snacks?"
"Uh huh," answered Peter, patting his backpack. "I'm ready."
Outside, it was beautiful, the perfect day for a nice, leisurely morning ride on the bike. But as the slightly brisk late-April breeze whipped past Steve's face and whistled in his ears as he drove, Steve was once again reminded of the dream that had driven him out of bed, forcing him to have to focus far more closely on his driving than he normally did.
"Papa, are you okay?" Peter asked as they pulled into the school's parking lot. He slid off the back of the bike and handed Steve his helmet, his big brown eyes filled to the brim with concern.
"Of course I am, little guy," Steve replied, almost cringing with how fake he sounded. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, maybe 'cause your fingers are still white from gripping the handlebars?" Peter said as he jerked his head towards Steve's hands. "And your back and shoulders were all stiff too, like you were afraid something was gonna happen on the way here or something."
Steve shook his head, unable to admit just how right Peter was. In fact, despite his dislike that Tony had taken to wearing his nanite armour case around the clock now, even to bed, Steve had unconsciously grabbed his own case while collecting his wallet and keys, placing it underneath his leather jacket in the hopes that Peter wouldn't notice.
"There's nothing wrong, little guy," Steve finally said. "I'm sorry if I made you worry."
"Yeah, right," Peter said with a frown. "You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?"
His shoulders sagging, Steve opened his arms, his heart fluttering when Peter stepped right into them. For all of his proclamations that he wasn't a little kid anymore, both Steve and Tony were still relieved that he never shied away from a hug. Even out in public, where his friends could see.
"No, I don't, little guy," Steve murmured into his son's wild hair. "But you don't need to worry about me, okay? You just try and have a good day today."
"Fine," Peter said into Steve's chest. "Are you gonna try and go back to sleep when you get home, though? 'Cause, no offence, but you seem like you could use it."
"We'll see, okay?" Steve kissed the top of Peter's head, squeezing him one final time. "I love you, Peter. I'll see you this afternoon."
"Uh huh," answered Peter. "Love you."
Steve leaned against the bike as he watched Peter enter the school, dropping his head once the doors had closed behind him. As much as he might have liked trying to go back to bed once he got home, there was no way that he could. He and Sam had a meeting at ten, one that Steve had already rescheduled three times, and he wanted to get some more work done before that.
Not to mention he needed to make sure that Tony actually ate something of substance once he woke up, instead of trying to subsist only on coffee for the next three days. Again.
Arriving back at the penthouse, Steve checked in on Tony—who was thankfully still asleep—before returning to his papers in the kitchen, managing to get the outline of another semi-decent plan worked out before Tony finally wandered in, bleary-eyed and yawning, just like Peter had been a couple hours before.
"What the hell did you do to me last night?" he asked as he shuffled over to Steve and slid right onto his lap. "I think I must've passed out."
"Well, I'm not going to apologise for it," Steve said as he wound his arms around Tony's waist, hugging him close. "You needed it."
That's what happens when you don't sleep for over seventy-two hours.
"Mmm," grumbled Tony as he stifled another yawn. "Well, as long as you didn't fight the war while I was out, I s'pose it's okay."
"Nope, no worries about that," Steve said with a sigh. If only. "Peter says good morning, by the way. And that he's glad you were able to get some rest.
"Ah, the kid worries too much about me," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "And that's your influence, by the way."
"Well, that's only because we both love you," said Steve. He cupped Tony's jaw, angling it down so he could kiss him. "I'm gonna make you some breakfast now, okay?"
Tony scoffed, but nodded anyway. "Yes, Captain," he said with a smirk. "Probably the only way you'll let me leave the kitchen, yeah?"
"Yep, you're absolutely right," Steve said as he pecked Tony on the nose. "Besides. I think we need to discuss a certain anniversary that's coming up in a few days. Don't you?"
The oh, shit! look that Tony shot him was so genuine and funny that Steve immediately burst out laughing.
"Uhh," Tony stammered. "What—what kinda anniversary are we talking about here?"
"Well…" Steve said as he picked up Tony's left hand, twirling the titanium ring that encircled his third finger. "It might have something to do with this."
"Oh, that anniversary. Yeah, I guess it's kinda important, isn't it?" Tony said, his attempt at humour thwarted by the trembling in his lower lip as he reached for Steve's left hand, and the ring that sat on his third finger. Unlike Tony's, which hadn't left his finger since Steve placed it there almost three—three!—years ago, Steve's ring was a duplicate, one that Tony made for him after HYDRA stole his original wedding ring when they took him prisoner. Steve had been so drugged and otherwise out of it at the time that he hadn't even realised it was gone until Tony and the rest of the team showed up to rescue him.
What Steve did remember, though, was that the HYDRA agents posing as FBI who had arrested him on the charge of falsifying his Army enlistment forms had done so right after he and Tony had enjoyed a late anniversary dinner together, and it had been that incident that had propelled Tony into developing his nanite armour. Never again, Tony had told him later on, would he ever get caught so completely defenceless.
"Steve," Tony said, low and thick. "Honey, I—I don't know—I don't know if—"
"Hey," Steve whispered. He slid his fingers under Tony's chin, tilting his head up to look at him. "We don't have to go out to dinner or anything, we could just have one of our old dessert dates out on the landing pad or something. Just a small celebration is all I'm asking."
Tony's beautiful brown eyes were glassy as they swept across Steve's face. "You think you could make that french silk pie that you made that one time? With the whipped cream, and the little chocolate swirls on top?"
"Absolutely," Steve murmured. "And I'll even carry you to bed afterwards, if that's what you want."
The corners of Tony's lips curled into a smile. "Mmm, long as you don't expect me to just go to sleep."
"No, I definitely do not," said Steve. "In fact, I was kind of hoping that we could recreate our wedding night, if that's okay with you."
"Ohh," Tony said, smiling widely now. "You are on, Captain."
"Good," Steve said as he tugged Tony's face down for a kiss, one that sent warmth spreading across Steve's chest and down his arms and legs by the time they broke apart. "But now, you need food."
"Fine, fine, mother hen," Tony said, winking. "Go ahead and feed me."
Since Tony wasn't as fond of pancakes as Steve and Peter were, Steve instead made him an omelet, complete with sharp cheddar cheese, green peppers, and tomatoes. Tony had told Steve when they first started dating that the Stark's old butler, Mr Jarvis, had often been responsible for preparing Tony's meals when he was a child, and that omelet had been one of Tony's absolute favourites.
"So, you feel like telling me what got you so freaked out earlier this morning?" Tony asked as he popped a stray slice of pepper into his mouth. Steve's fork, which had been halfway to his mouth, froze in midair, which Tony immediately noticed.
"Tony, I don't want to—" he started, lowering his fork when Tony quirked an eyebrow. "It was just a bad dream, mo grá. Nothing more than that."
"Yeah, I kinda figured that," Tony said softly. "But you still don't wanna talk about it?"
"No, I really don't," said Steve. "It was only a dream."
"Well, okay, you know I'm not gonna make you tell me," Tony said as he covered Steve's hand with his own. "But you are gonna talk to Sam about it, right?"
Steve gulped, shaking his head. "Tony, it's not important—"
"Nope, you know that's not gonna work on me, honey," Tony interrupted, gently but firmly. "You can't be mother hen-ing everyone else and then forget to take care of your own stuff, right?"
"No, I guess not," Steve muttered.
"Good," said Tony. "JARVIS, what time is Steve's appointment with Sam?"
"Mr Wilson expects Captain Rogers in the lobby of Avengers Tower at 10am, sir," answered JARVIS. "Which is in exactly ten minutes and twenty-three seconds."
"Well," Tony said as he reached for his coffee cup. "There ya go."
"I was going to bring it up," Steve said slowly. Just maybe not this morning…
"Good," Tony stated. "'Cause you know that the team's only as good as its Captain, right?"
Steve dropped his gaze to his plate, poking at his eggs with his fork. "Yes, I do."
And he did, if for no other reason than both Tony and Sam frequently reminded him of it.
"Please, honey," Tony pleaded. "The 1940s may have been good for some things, but not for stuff like this. In fact, they really freaking sucked for stuff like this."
Steve huffed, pushing his plate away. He knew Tony was right to be worried. After the Miami battle, and almost losing both Tony and Peter in one fell swoop, he had spiralled down into what Sam had later identified as post-traumatic stress. It eventually got so bad that at one point, after he'd nearly burned all of his skin off in the shower, Tony had been forced to call Sam up to talk him down in the middle of the night.
And while he was better now, according to Sam, Steve knew he would never be able to be truly rid of everything he had experienced, which was why it was so important for him to keep working at it.
Even though he despised having to do so.
"I know," Steve finally said. "I'll talk to him."
"That's all I'm asking, honey," Tony whispered. "Thank you."
After making sure that Tony finished his food before he escaped into his lab, Steve kissed him goodbye and headed down to the lobby, where he found Sam talking with the owner of the newsstand.
"Hey, Cap!" Sam said as he walked up. "Glad you could finally make it."
"Yeah, yeah," Steve said. "So, where'd you have in mind this morning."
Sam shrugged. "Coffee shop okay with you?"
"Sure," answered Steve. "Lead the way."
After exchanging pleasantries with the newsstand owner, Steve and Sam headed out onto the street, bustling with its usual New York City foot traffic. Several people recognised Steve as they passed, which likely meant that his photograph would wind up being printed in at least one of the magazines that he always saw displayed in the grocery store checkout lanes. Again.
And while that didn't bother him, or at least not too much, it was just another reminder that people saw him as some sort of a hero, and saw the Avengers as the Earth's protectors. All of which meant that Steve couldn't afford to let them down.
Despite the busyness of the street, the coffee shop was fairly empty when they arrived. After placing their orders, Steve and Sam settled into a table in the back corner, where Sam shot Steve a wary look as he eyed Steve's large peppermint tea.
"What, nothing to eat?" Sam asked. "Don't tell me the super soldier's actually not hungry?"
Steve tilted his head, chuckling as he ran his fingertip along the lid of his cup. "Well, I've kinda been what Peter might call a hobbit this morning."
"Oh, really? Well, you'd be one tall-ass hobbit, that's for sure," Sam said, laughing as he tore off a chunk of his blueberry scone. "So, how many breakfasts have you had, then?"
"Ah, three," answered Steve. "One by myself, one with Peter, and one with Tony, about twenty minutes ago."
"Ah huh," said Sam. "And… is there any specific reason for this hobbit-like behaviour? I mean, I know it's not unusual for guys like you and Bucky to eat full meals every hour on the hour, but… something tells me that there's something more going on here."
Steve shrugged as he took a sip of his drink, swirling the hot, minty liquid in his mouth before swallowing and trying hard to ignore Sam's pointed look. Tony had always told him that he was an easy person to read, and it was times like this when he really wished that he wasn't.
"Steve, it's always helpful to get this stuff out, right?" Sam gently prodded. "It's not good for anyone to keep things bottled up, mainly 'cause then you're never sure when it's just gonna start bubbling over and make a huge mess."
"Yeah, I know," said Steve. "I just…" He trailed off, feeling more and more foolish with each passing second. Even Bucky, who'd grown up with most of the same mindsets and sentiments as Steve, had found it easier to open up over time.
"I had another nightmare, early this morning," Steve finally said.
"All right," said Sam. "What about?"
"It was the Valkyrie," answered Steve. "Only this time, it was… different."
"All right," repeated Sam. "How so?"
Steve scoffed, taking a long sip of his tea while Sam patiently waited. "It was still the same Valkyrie," he said, very softly. "And the same stuff was happening. The controls were frozen, I didn't know how to land, I radioed for help, all of that was the same."
"Okay, so… what was different?" asked Sam. "'Cause I have a feeling that's what's throwing you off here."
"It is," agreed Steve. "And it was—it was—" He huffed out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "It was like it was happening in the here and now, but still in 1944. At the same time."
Sam's eyebrows knitted together as he tore off another piece off his scone. "You feel like going into a bit more detail about that?"
"I knew I was here, now," Steve said. "I knew I was married to Tony, and that we were part of the Avengers. But then it was Peggy on the radio, just like she was in 1944, but somehow she knew about Tony and Peter too. She kept telling me that it would be okay, that they would understand what I was about to do, and I just—" He broke off, tapping the table with his palm. "None of it made any sense!"
"Okay, okay, we can work with this," Sam said. He took a sip of his coffee, his calm demeanour already easing Steve's frazzled nerves. "You said it was Peggy on the radio with you?"
"Yes," Steve said with a nod. "She was the last person I talked to before—before—"
"Yeah, okay," Sam cut in. "And when you knew her, did she know about you? That you…?"
"That I didn't like gals?" Steve asked. "Yeah, she did. I didn't know that she did until Tony and I went to visit her during the whole Project Insight mess, but apparently she had at least guessed it back during the war."
"Well, no one's ever gonna accuse you of being a good liar," Sam said, grinning. "Which is not a bad thing, let me just say. But anyway, it's not unusual for a soldier's mind to blend different battles together, Steve. I know it's happened to you before."
"Yes, but not like this," said Steve. "Getting details mixed up about the different HYDRA raids during the war isn't the same as having my two timelines merging together like this."
Sam leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Well, if it's any consolation, it's happened to Bucky too, and not just once. He's dreamt about falling from the train too many times for me to count, but lately he's been telling me he's been seeing me in those dreams too, along with you and the rest of your Howling Commando teammates. And that he knows that we're together when he falls."
"Really?" Steve said with a frown. "Almost like you were one of the Howling Commandos with us?"
"That's what he said," answered Sam. "The first few times it freaked him the hell out pretty good, but now he just kinda goes with it. As much as anyone can, I guess."
"Oh, that's good," Steve said. "You've been so good for him, Sam. He's very lucky to have you."
Sam grinned as he fiddled with the edge of his napkin. "Well, I'm pretty damn lucky to have him too. Long as you don't tell him that I said anything."
"You know that I won't," Steve said quickly. "I'm just glad he's okay."
"Yeah, he's okay," Sam assured him. "He still has his bad days every now and then, but… don't we all?"
"Okay, but then why?" Steve demanded, almost too harshly. "Why is all of this happening? I understand that we can sometimes have bad dreams, but why ones like this? And why now, all of a sudden?"
"Steve, I wish I knew," said Sam. "But I'm afraid that's a better question for people like Tony and Bruce. Or maybe even Thor."
"Thor? Why Thor?" Steve asked. "You think these dreams have something to do with the infinity stones?"
"Steve, I honestly don't know," said Sam. "The stones, that goofy HYDRA drug you guys all got, who knows? Probably some combination of all of it."
"But Peter got that drug too, multiple times," Steve insisted. "And he can still remember believing that either Tony or I was dead. In two different timelines."
"But those weren't timelines that had actually happened, Steve," Sam said evenly. "Yours and Bucky's did actually happen. Look, I know you don't like this, and frankly, neither do I. But I don't think it's just a coincidence that you're both having dreams like this, which leads me to believe it's gotta somehow be related to these gem things."
"No, I don't think it's a coincidence either," Steve said. He let out a heavy sigh as he downed the rest of his tea. "I just don't like not knowing what's going on. Especially if it's something that might be important, if that makes any sense."
"Yeah, it makes perfect sense," said Sam. "And you wouldn't be you if you did. But as much as we might hate it, there's just nothing we can do about it at the moment."
Steve's eyebrows knitted together. "Well, you're right. I do hate it."
"I think it would help if you talk to Tony about it, though," Sam said gently. "I know you think he's under too much stress to want to deal with your problems, but, Steve, I can tell you that it's more stressful for him to know that you're hurting, but not know why. 'Cause then all he can do is guess until you tell him, and his guesses are always gonna be worse than reality."
"Mmm," grumbled Steve. Sam was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Steve had always disliked dumping his problems on people. His ma had always been too exhausted and overworked for Steve to want to burden her even more, and since Bucky had been the source of many of Steve's issues growing up, Steve hadn't ever grown used to confiding in him either.
"I'll talk to Tony," he whispered.
"Good," replied Sam. "When?"
"When I get back," Steve said after a few heartbeat's pause.
Sam grinned, popping the last of his scone into his mouth. "That's better," he said. "See, you are learning."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Now, how 'bout we swerve onto something a bit more fun, hmm?" Sam said as he leaned forward. "About those Mets…"
"Okay, that's good," Tony said as he tweaked the knee joint of his newest suit design, one that he had dubbed Igor. "About how many tons can he hold now?"
"Approximately three, sir," answered JARVIS. "But be advised, the suit would only be able to withstand that amount of weight for exactly one hundred and twenty seconds, after which the legs would begin to buckle."
"Yeah, yeah," Tony said as he scrubbed his palm down his face. "The theory is that he wouldn't have to hold the weight for much longer than that, but… what would happen if we increased the density of the titanium in the alloy mixture by five percent?"
"That would increase the suit's weight-bearing capacity by fifteen percent," said JARVIS.
"Ah huh," said Tony. "So how long would that give us?"
"The estimated time would double, sir."
"Good. Then let's go with that," Tony said. He collapsed the hologram and reached for his coffee cup, which had annoyingly gone cold already. "Is Steve awake yet, J?"
"Not yet, sir," answered JARVIS. "Apparently your suggestion of a nap was indeed a good one."
"Yeah, well, tell that to him," grumbled Tony. Three heartbeats passed until he froze in place, glancing up at the ceiling. "Wait. You know that I'm kidding, right?"
"Indeed I do, sir."
"Good. Glad I programmed you with a sense of humour."
"Actually, I believe it's due more to my learning processor, sir," said JARVIS. "But yes, I am indeed grateful."
"Oh, whatever," Tony muttered as he grabbed his coffee cup and tablet and headed towards the kitchen, nearly running headlong into Peter, who was busy shoving Doritos into his mouth and reading from a piece of paper as he walked.
"Whoa there, buddy!" Tony said as he jumped back. "You gotta give me some warning here!"
"Sorry, Dad," Peter said, wincing as he licked orange dust from his fingertips. "But I just remembered that I forgot to get you or Papa to sign my permission slip, and it's due tomorrow."
"Oh? And where do you think you're going now?" Tony asked. "It better not be Columbia again, 'cause—"
"No, no, it's not for chemistry this time, Dad," Peter said as he handed Tony the paper. "It's for History."
"History?" Tony frowned, squinting at the too-small print. Of course he had left his glasses in the lab. "Why the hell would you need to go to the Museum of Modern Art for History?"
Peter shrugged. "I don't know, Dad. All I need is for you to just sign the form."
"Mmm. And you're sure that you wanna go?" Tony asked. He was already mentally calculating the range of the defence drones, making sure they could cover the distance between the Tower and the museum.
Which they easily could, or the discussion would've already been moot. With how frequent Steve's goofy timeline nightmares had been coming lately, Tony had the eerie feeling that something big was about to happen, and soon. Thor, Bruce, and Loki had finally taken off with the Tesseract in their newly repaired ship about a week ago, and while Tony hadn't expected to hear anything from them until they got back, every day that passed with no word was only making his twitchiness, as Peter would call it, that much worse.
But he wasn't about to wake Steve up over something as trivial as a school field trip. He and Steve had already decided that despite their own fears, they were going to try and keep Peter's life as normal as possible, and Tony supposed that included school field trips to boring art museums.
"Yeah, Dad, I'm sure," Peter said with a frown. "Gwen's going."
"Oh, well, then that makes perfect sense," said Tony. "Gotta go where the girl's going."
"Yeah, well, she's gonna be leaving soon," Peter said sadly. "We've only got another four weeks or so, and then—"
"Then the summer will be over before you know it, and she'll be back," Tony said as he ruffled Peter's hair. "Don't you always say that the summers go too fast?"
Peter shrugged. "Yeah, we'll see. So, can you sign it?"
"Yeah, just give me a minute," Tony muttered as he started digging through the kitchen's various junk drawers. "'Cause unless you want this thing signed with one of your papa's paintbrushes, that means I've got to find a pen."
"Um, I've probably got one in my room somewhere," Peter said. "Do you need—"
"Ah, I found one!" Tony exclaimed as he emerged from the depths of the third junk drawer. He signed the paper with only a bit of his usual flourish before handing it back to Peter. "Did Papa happen to mention what he was planning for dinner tonight before he hit the hay?"
"Yeah, he told me that I could order pizza if he's not awake by now," Peter answered. "So—"
"Go ahead and order whatever you want, bud," Tony cut in. "I'm just gonna go and check on him while we wait, hmm?"
"Yeah, okay," said Peter. "JARVIS?"
"Your pizza order has been transmitted, Master Peter," said JARVIS. "Estimated time of delivery is approximately thirty minutes."
"Uh huh. Thanks."
"You are most welcome."
Making his way down to his and Steve's bedroom, Tony stepped inside to find him just starting to stir. He quickly crawled onto the bed next to him, gathering his tall, broad husband into his arms as Steve's gorgeous blue eyes fluttered open.
"Hey," Steve said, all raspy and croaky and way, way too sexy. "Everything okay?"
"Ah, yeah, I was just coming in to peek at you," Tony murmured as he smoothed Steve's bangs from his forehead, his heart fluttering at the sheer amount of gorgeousness emanating from him, even in his barely-awake, disheveled state.
"You feeling any better now?"
Steve's full lips curled into a slight smile as he wound his arms around Tony's waist, pulling him down and rolling over so he was half-trapped beneath him.
"I'm much better now," Steve said, his warm breath on Tony's neck causing him to shiver. They had finally celebrated their anniversary the night before, including the recreation of their wedding night that Steve—and Tony—had so badly wanted, and it had been glorious. Even three years after the fact, Tony still couldn't believe that he'd been so lucky as to marry someone as incredible as Steve, and the amount of love and attention that Steve had showered him with the night before, well… it was pretty much indescribable.
And for Steve, who had never, ever passed up an opportunity to demonstrate his love and affection for Tony, that was saying something.
"Mmm, honey," Tony murmured, squirming as Steve's lips trailed along the side of his neck. "You keep this up and Pete will end up scarfing down all of your pizza."
He felt Steve smile against his skin. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're probably right. How 'bout I take a rain check for tonight, then?"
"Oh, so this is starting to become a thing now, hmm?" Tony said, rather cheekily. "You end up getting up way too damn early, which makes you want to take one of these afternoon naps of yours, which then only makes you wanna stay up all night again." He twisted around in Steve's arms so he could face him. "You do see where this is going, don't you?"
"Well, then you better tire me out tonight, mo grá," Steve said, so low and husky that a bolt of pure heat shot down Tony's spine. "Don't you think?"
"Steve," Tony whispered as Steve's lips attacked his neck again. "Honey, you know I'll do anything for you."
Steve breathed in, pressing Tony even closer to him. "I just want you to love me," he whispered. "I want to grow old with you, and I want us to watch Peter graduate, and go to college, and get married together. That's all I want, sweetheart."
"Well, then that'll be the easiest thing I've ever done in my life," said Tony. "But now, we should probably go feed you, hmm? I wasn't kidding about Pete eating all of your pizza."
"No, I know you weren't," Steve said, sounding just a bit more awake. "But I wasn't kidding about tonight either."
"Well, good, 'cause I'm definitely gonna hold you to that," Tony said. He pressed a long, lingering kiss to Steve's lips, trailing his thumb across his cheekbone. "C'mon, honey. I bet Pete's already getting suspicious."
"I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time," Steve answered. With a final squeeze, he raised his arm and sat up, helping Tony off the bed.
As evenings go, it wasn't too bad. They ate dinner with Peter, as they usually did, and then Tony headed back to his lab, determined to get Igor figured out before he and Steve went to bed. They had struck up a bargain once Steve's weird dreams had started that they would try and go to bed together every night, thinking it would help them both get more—and better—sleep, and so far it had worked out fairly well.
And the sex surely didn't hurt anything either. In fact, as he and Steve clung to each other later that night, with Steve's head resting on his chest, Tony was convinced that there had been far too few clinical studies conducted on the sleep-inducing prowess of orgasms, and that someone really needed to rectify such an oversight.
Pressing a kiss to Steve's forehead, Tony tightened his arms around him, begging the various deities floating around up in the heavens to let his man get some decent rest for a change, free from the nightmares that caused his beautiful face to screw into expressions of such unimaginable pain that it nearly caused Tony's heart to crack in two.
We're gonna be okay, honey, he thought as he felt himself drifting off. 'Cause I've got your back.
Please. Let us be okay.