Steve bounds across the street and then takes a left and three rights to lead him to the front side of the children's home he lives in. He can't believe that he lives across the street from Bucky. Probably the only reason they haven't run into each other is because the entrance is on the opposite side of the building. But still.. He'll have to be more careful.
He steps through the doors and silently creeps up the thick wooden steps to the room he shares with the others.
The door creaks as he opens it and a head whips towards the door. When she notices it's him she comes running.
"Steve!" Wanda shouts, rushing up to him and giving him a hug, "where were you? You're never gone this long on a Saturday."
She and her twin brother Pietro are just 3 years younger than him. They were sent away from their home country when they were 8 after their parents died in an attack.
"Sorry Wanda," he says, hugging her back, "ran into a friend."
She pulls back and looks at him. "You have a new bruise." Her face turns into a pout, "what happened this time?"
"Nothing, just the brothers again. Where's Pietro and Peter?"
"Pietro's down in the kitchen, he and Aldrich are on potato duty."
"Ah, I see." Steve glances up, noticing her omission, "where's Peter?"
Wanda stiffens, stepping away.
"What, Wanda? Where is he?"
"The basement."
"What!" He immediately feels panic. Mrs Schmidt shoves kids in the basement when they've done something she doesn't like or if she's annoyed with them. "Why?"
"He was playing too loud and she got mad." Wanda looks up with pitiful eyes and fury rips through Steve. The Schmidt's barely treat them like humans, to begin with, and it makes him so mad that they just treat them like this. "I'll be right back, okay?" He says through clenched teeth.
"Steve, your lungs."
"I'll be okay."
She nods slowly, her eyes following him as he walks out into the hallway.
—-
He peaks into her office, where she sits asleep in her big chair, head lolled to the side and mouth hanging open. A half full glass and an almost empty bottle sit on the desk in front of her. He sighs in relief, she's a messy and forgetful drunk. If he can get him out, it's unlikely she'll remember putting him down there.
He swallows hard and calms his breathing before snaking his hand up to the hook by the door. He uses his thumb to snag the keyring and his slender fingers to hold them steady in his palm so they don't jangle. He can't even remember the amount of times he's done this exact thing. He pulls his arm back through the cracked door. Sneaking off down the hallway.
—
He quickly unlocks the basement door, replaces the keys back to her office and slowly makes his way down the stairs. His lungs react to the damp air and the dust almost immediately. He takes small shallow breaths, trying to limit the intake of the air into his lungs.
When he hits the bottom step he doesn't see him. He steps further, searching behind shelves and crowded piles of junk. He finally catches sight of a little shoe hidden behind an old pile of furniture pieces.
He walks softly towards it and his heart wrenches at the sight. Peter sleeps tucked up and under an old desk. He can see the angry red welts on his upper arms from a belt.
Steve crouches down, shaking him softly. "Pete? Hey Peter."
The kid blinks awake, yawning almost immediately and looking at Steve. His eyes are glazed but clear quickly, "Steve, you're home."
"Yeah, buddy. Sorry I was gone for so long."
"What happened to your eye?"
"Nothing to worry about, Peter. Let's get you out of here."
Peter nods and sits up, Steve grasps his hand and pulls him to his feet. The effort on his joints makes him wince but he doesn't let go. He leads the smaller boy up the stairs and tells him to wait. He peeks out the door, making sure the coast is clear before quickly exiting and hauling him up the stairs to their room. It's a risk. If she does remember putting him down there, they'll both get a 'learning lesson'. But usually she doesn't, and he wasn't about to let him stay down there alone.
Wanda comes rushing the moment she sees them. "Peter! Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Steve got me out."
"Your lungs?" She demands, turning towards Steve.
"I'm fine Wanda." He clears his throat and takes a deep breath, to prove his point.
"Okay. Good." They watch as Peter shuffles over to his bed, dropping down on it.
Peter is one of the youngest in the house at 8 years old. When his aunt and uncle were killed in a robbery 2 years ago, he was sent here. Steve remembers that horrible day. This tiny kid, dressed only in his pajamas, crying, carrying everything he could keep in a small backpack, and all Mrs. Schmidt could say was, 'wow, orphaned twice, you must have really bad luck.'
Steve had wanted to say some very heated things to her in that moment as they'd all stood in the entryway to greet the new arrival. But he'd just requested Peter to be in their room, and taken him up to get him settled.
He remembers the devastating look on Peter's face as he glanced around at his new surroundings. A then 12 year old Steve had walked him to the empty bed and helped him take off his backpack.
Hey Peter, I'm Steve. I know nothing feels okay right now, but just so you know, nothing that happened was your fault. You got that? Nothing. You're gunna be okay. I'm going to make sure you're okay.
He and Wanda and Pietro had stayed up half the night, telling silly stories and distracting him as best as they could until he fell asleep. They'd been a team ever since.
—-
Steve and the other kids slowly descend the stairs, and walk to the kitchen to help prepare dinner. Pietro and Aldrich have finished peeling and chopping the potatoes and Wanda goes to help them get them in the pots.
"What do you think, Peter?" Steve asks, eyeing the kitchen, "soup, or soup?"
Peter pretends to think about this. He furrows his brow and rubs at his chin. "I don't know Steve, that's a tough one. But I'm gunna have to say… hmmm…. Soup."
Steve laughs, patting Peter's back and nodding. "An excellent choice." After Peter had acclimated to his new living situation, everyone had taken to him immediately. A truly happy kid with an undeniable sense of optimism. Steve had felt fiercely protective of him since day one. Peter was actually the reason Steve had worked up the courage to call CPS the first time. It had ended with Peter being denied food, and Steve stuck in the basement for two days, but it hadn't kept Steve from trying again 4 months later when Peter broke a finger and the Schmidt's ignored it. That incident had led to the entire house being denied food for 3 days and a broken rib for Steve that he knew never healed right. The third and final time Steve tried CPS had been the worst. Instead of them turning on Steve, they'd put his entire room, the other 7 kids, in the basement for 2 days during the weekend so they wouldn't be missing from school. And had only allowed the kids to eat things that had peanut butter in them so that Steve was forced to stay away.
After that he'd stopped trying.
He and this team were usually responsible for making dinner. They were the oldest and had the easiest time working the old finicky appliances and stove. They work quickly and efficiently, having had years of practice. A simple potato and vegetable soup. They were allowed two meals a day if they 'behaved'. But she only stocked the kitchen with ingredients for three things: soup, oatmeal, and peanut butter and jelly, which Steve couldn't eat due to being allergic to peanuts, so the rest of the kids usually ate that when he was away at school.
Once the soup is on the stove, they clean the kitchen, set the table, and set about collecting the other kids. There's 16 kids total in the big house, 8 in each room. They usually have enough for each kid to have one bowl of soup. It wasn't near enough, especially for kids like Pietro who seem to grow taller each day, but it was what they had. When Steve had tried to give him more out of his own bowl citing he didn't need as much Pietro had glared at him so fiercely that Steve had surrendered without a fight.
Mrs. Schmidt comes out of her office groggily and stares at them as they ladle bowls out of the big pot.
"Good evening, Mrs. Schmidt." They chorus. The 'happier' and more 'well-behaved' they were when she was drunk the easier it is for them.
She grumbles something and disappears up the stairs to her room.
A visible relief is palpable on all the kids' faces. After they eat and clean up, Steve calls for their attention.
"Hey, tomorrow I have to go work on a project for my school. I'll be gone starting around 12:30. I need you guys to really promise me you'll do whatever it takes to not make her angry okay? I don't want to come home to anything. So stay quiet, stay out of her way, and you guys can have PB&J for dinner tomorrow. Don't worry about making soup. And when I get back I'll set up the stuff for oatmeal in the morning okay?"
They nod, and he smiles sadly at them.
"You guys are really the best, you know that? You're all tougher than anyone I know."
Peter's voice pipes up, "not tougher than you!" Steve's throat constricts and he has to swallow hard to be able to talk again.
"Well, we all make a good team."
—
Clint and Natasha make it there first. They arrive within 5 minutes of each other and sit on the steps of a building across the street from where they're supposed to get picked up. Clint has two big brown bags in his hands.
He chuckles at Natasha's raised eyebrows, "my uncle wouldn't let me leave until he knew we were going to be well-fed."
She smiles and nods, "you guys have always been close?"
"No. Clint responds immediately, "In fact, I used to avoid him at all costs."
"Really? Why?"
"Um… When my mom died? I took it really hard, and… I fell into the wrong crowd. Like the really really wrong crowd. Not proud of those days at all. My dad remarried, too soon in my opinion and I resented her and my dad and well… basically everyone. My uncle Ricky, my new mom's brother, he tried to get me out of it, to set me straight, offered me a job at Milo's and came and got me out of jail one night when I got caught vandalizing property." He grimaces and looks at Natasha who is calm and wearing a neutral expression. "And maybe like 5 months ago? I watched one of my so-called friends get carted off to prison, like real jail time, since he was 18. I've never seen someone so scared in all my life. I knew I was done. No more stupid choices just for adrenaline. No more hurting my family because I was hurting." He sighs and nudges the bag with his foot. "I have a roof over my head, and a stepmom who's actually pretty cool, despite my dad being a—" he glares down the street as two familiar figures appear. "And you look at kids like Steve, he's got nothing, and he's obviously lacking something at home, but he's still trying to be a good kid? Makes you rethink some things."
Natasha's face turns a bit desperate. She turns to him, "Okay, I wasn't going to tell you because it wasn't any of our business, but you've lost a mom you remember, so maybe you can actually be the most helpful out of all of us." She glances back as Steve and Bucky are getting closer. "Steve's mom died, like 5 years ago, my sister said. She doens't know where he lives now, but she says he used to come to school bruised all the time, and she always thought it was from fight,s but now… Idon't know."
Clint processes this, "wait… you said 'lost a mom you remember'. Natasha, did you—" He stops talking at her shaking her head. He glances behind him to find Steve and Bucky approaching.
"Hey—" His voice catches in his throat at the sight of Steve and a new giant bruise across his right eye, and cut on his lip. "Steve, what the hell."
Steve just chuckles while Bucky heaves a sigh and starts telling the story.
"So here I was, coming home from church with my family, and I heard a groan, so me and my dad go running and find Steve, being beat up in an alley by these two huge guys—"
"They weren't that big." Steve huffs.
"Steve, shut up, they were college kids." Bucky snaps good-naturedly, before continuing, "—and I'm about to step in but my dad scares them away, my dad's pretty scary when he wants to be, then Steve came home and we played Super Smash bros, which Steve is surprisingly good at, and now here we are."
Natasha stands, brushing herself off as she leans down to study Steve's face. His eyes widen but she just reaches out and gently touches the bruise on his cheekbone, "and who were these two college kids who did this?"
Something about her voice is terrifying, but Steve just shrugs, "just some nobodies."
Bucky scoffs, "Steve you said they had a grudge, that it happens anytime they see you."
"Bucky!" Steve growls, "It's nothing I'm fine."
"No, Steve, you can't just not tell people things! Those guys are jerks and if they're hurting you, you need to tell someone!"
"They're just mad, they'll get over it."
"You said 'old grudge' when did they steal from Reynolds?"
"Reynolds?" Clint pipes in, "the store?"
"Yeah," Bucky says, still glaring at Steve, "he said they were stealing from the lady who owned it and he turned them in. She pressed charges and they've been taking it out on him."
"The Fleming brothers."
Steve's head snaps up, "how'd you know that?"
Clint doesn't answer and Natasha has a look of understanding across her face.
"You're the old who told her?" Steve nods and Clint huffs out a laugh, "Geez, kid. You saved her store! She'd been on the edge of being bought out by some corporate store but the money from the settlement kept her afloat. She keeps trying to find you, you know that?"
Steve shrinks back a bit, scratching at his neck, not realizing he's showing off the healing bruises down there, "I haven't gone back since."
"Why not?"
Before Steve can answer, a sleek car pulls up and Tony sticks his head out the window, "come on you gang of ruffians, let's go." The door opens wide and they all file inside.
—