Bruce tries to follow Steve home the next day. He watches him out of the corner of his eye as he enters the subway with one of his classmates, Barnes. He manages to get off the subway stop with them, but they don't leave right away, they stay talking on the platform for a few minutes, the older boy speaking kindly to Steve. Steve nods, his eyes on the passing subway cars.
Bruce whips his back towards them as Barnes glances his way. He quickly exits and sighs, leaning against the railing. He'll just have to get the address from the front office again.
He slips back onto the subway car and watches as the door slides closed.
And then what? His brain supplies. So you'll know where he lives, so what?
He tries not to think about the fact that he has no idea what would come next.
—
The next two weeks fly by without incident. Steve, to their knowledge, doesn't have any new injuries or bruises, and they've each been working steadily on their classes and group projects.
The four of them are secretly relieved that Rumlow seems too preoccupied with his group to be paying attention to Steve. They relax a little.
They're halfway through the program, when the other TA, the female, stands at the podium at lunchtime.
"Alright, Monday, as you know, will be the "halfway mark" tradition. Two softball games each day of the week, during the study hall period. You need to make teams of 10. If you don't pick teams, they will be picked for you. The winning teams get a prize!" The cafeteria is instantly abuzz with the news and the rest of what she says gets drowned out.
Natasha notices Steve's excited face and she can't help but smile. "You like playing baseball, Steve?"
"Yeah, I haven't played much, but I've always liked it, I have pretty decent aim up close."
It's one of the first nice things he's said about himself and the rest of the group starts chatting excitedly about who their other teammates will be. They decide to ask the other five kids in their elective class, and they readily accept.
"Okay, so we have our team, now, what's our strategy?"
"Um," Clint says, looking at them with a wicked smile on his face, "I would like to request to be the pitcher." No one has a problem with that and he smiles, leaning back.
Natasha takes catcher, Bucky takes first base, Tony takes third base, and Steve looks sheepish when he asks if he can take shortstop.
They run it by the other part of their team during electives and there's no arguments from them. They'll cover second base, outfield, and have a coach on the third baseline.
"Tony," Natasha asks, "she said it was a tradition, what's it usually like?"
Tony deadpans, "You think I've ever stuck around for a game before?"
"What, you would just skip?" Bucky asks, folding up his chip bag.
"Conveniently I didn't feel well each year." He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "But I got a good reason to stick around this year." His eyes kind of glaze and then he's leaning forward, grabbing his phone off the table and typing something on his phone, and looks up. "We gotta pick a team name."
—
Tony saunters into the cafeteria on Monday, a bundle of something in his hands. He waves at them and heads over to a few other tables, dropping something off with their other teammates.
"Did he make…" Natasha trails off, shock across her face.
Tony walks over, dumping the remains of his bundle on the table. "Ta-da!" He throws them each a t-shirt, their agreed upon name stitched on the front The Misfits. They turn it over and they each have their last name placed over a large number.
"Tony…" Clint starts, looking at the shirt in his hands, "How'd you manage this so fast?"
Tony scoffs. "Heelllooo, rich smart boy here. Money can get you basically anything. Especially rush delivery." He smirks and sits down, grabbing his own baseball style tee from the table and holding it up. "We're gunna be the best looking team out there. Especially with me there." His comment is met with good-natured groans and Tony laughs, watching with a gleam in his eye as Steve clutches the shirt like it's a precious heirloom.
—
They're leaving for the day and Tony notices that Steve puts his baseball shirt in his locker.
"Woah, woah woah, you're not taking it home?"
Steve flushes, "Oh, uh— It's.. I just don't want to forget it. I'll take it home after we play."
Tony wants to protest but he doesn't, just nods and motions for them to get going. Jarvis was waiting to take them to his house.
—-
Three days pass before their team is up. They step out onto the small field cut out behind the school and Tony walks up to the umpire who is holding the coin toss to see who bats first.
Clint groans as Rumlow walks out from the other team. "You're kidding me." Clint huffs. "How out of 9 other teams are we up against this jerk?" He glances at Steve who looks completely unbothered. Natasha just shrugs and Bucky glares at Rumlow from afar.
They win the coin toss and choose to bat first. Natasha scores one run in the first inning, surprising the other team, and they cheer her on as she rounds home. Rumlow looks calm, but his eyes are aflame. He's the pitcher for the other team and his pitches are ruthless, wild, every one different and hard to anticipate.
No one scores anymore runs for the next few innings. Each team is desperate to not let the other team get ahead. At the bottom of the 8th it's still 1-0.
Clint is an excellent pitcher, perfectly aiming the ball just enough inside where it makes it hard for the other team to swing well to hit it, but still within the strike zone. Rumlow gets up to bat and Tony notices he steps a bit further back than he has the previous times. Clint notices too, and tries to throw it a little faster, but Rumlow swings, the bat making a clanging sound as it makes contact and the ball goes far, too far. Rumlow rounds the bases slowly, waving and enjoying his home run.
Tony seethes at third base, but says nothing, he can already see how furious Clint is, so he knows he won't let it happen again. Clint easily strikes out the next two batters and they head to the dugout.
"Okay. We're tied." Bucky says, "That's fine. We can do this. We just need to score one more run and then keep them from scoring. Got it?"
"Duh, Barnes." Tony ribs, "We've all played before." Bucky mutters under his breath but they all get ready, as the umpire calls them up to bat.
Clint is first. He makes a connection and makes it to second base before being stopped. Steve steps up, his skinny shoulders squared and face set firmly.
"Batter up!" The umpire calls and he lifts the bat over his shoulder. Rumlow grins, a nasty smirk that has Steve glaring at him. The first pitch is too fast, Steve doesn't swing and a strike is called. Steve grits his teeth and settles in, the toes of his shoes digging into the ground. He swings on the next pitch and makes a connection, but it goes foul. "Strike two." The umpire calls. Steve fouls, again and again, keeping himself alive, but unable to swing fast enough to get it inside the lines. Rumlow's face turns from haughty to clear annoyance.
"Keep it going, Steve!" Bucky calls, "you got this! Rumlow ain't got nothing on you!"
Natasha yanks Bucky away from the fence and shushes him, "you wanna make him more angry?"
Bucky cringes, "Whoops, no.." But it's too late. Tony watches as Rumlow's face darkens and he winds up. Something like a warning starts to make its way out of Tony's throat. His voice catches Steve's attention, causing his head to turn, but that just makes it worse. Steve's face is angled, facing towards his dugout as the ball flies, making contact with his right eye socket and flinging his head backwards. Steve's body goes rigid and he tumbles backwards, sitting down heavily.
The chorus of gasps and "Steve!" Has their team racing out.
Bucky reaches him first. He slides on the dirt, kneeling next to Steve who looks dazed. "Steve? Hey, Steve, can you hear me?"
Steve nods slowly, his eyes unfocused. A gash under his eyebrow bleeds profusely, and Steve's eyes are blinking rapidly, trying to clear the blood, but it just seeps under his eyelashes and into his eye making it appear more gruesome than it is. It's swelling a bit already and Bucky whips around to Rumlow, "You did that on purpose!" He leaps up and takes a step towards Rumlow only to get yanked back. He looks and Tony stands behind him, his fist grasping the back of Bucky's collar. "Let me go!" He shouts, but Tony's face is deadly and he shakes his head no.
Rumlow waltzes forward, "I did no such thing on purpose! It's your own team's fault for distracting him! Pitches go wild all the time."
Batroc, the umpire arrives, examining Steve and using a wet towel to wipe away most of the blood. His Algerian accent is heavy as he speaks. "I think you'll be fine. Just head to the school nurse and get some ice. Head wounds bleed a lot. No cause for alarm."
"No cause for alarm!" Clint responds, "Rumlow just beamed him in the eye on purpose."
The man stands up, his wide shoulders and eyes imposing towards their team. "It did not look on purpose to me. You should not be distracting your own teammates." Bucky's eyes widen in rage and only Tony's hand on his collar keeps him from yelling at the adult. "Your young teammate here can be excused to the nurse and your coach from third base can take his place."
"No."
They all look down, Steve is getting to his feet and wiping the residual blood away with the sleeve of his baseball tee. "I'm fine. I'm going to keep playing."
"What!" Bucky cries.
"Steve, no." Natasha warns, "You've just been hit in the head, You're—"
"I'm going to first base." Steve snarls. His eyes glaring at Rumlow. "Right?" He stares at the umpire. "I got hit, so I get to walk to base, right?"
The umpire is stunned for just a second before nodding yes. "Yes, you can walk to first base."
Rumlow opens his mouth and then snaps it shut, his body language reading fury. Steve stares him down and his team is surprised at how terrifying Steve looks with a black and blue bruise forming and a bloody eye. Steve makes it to first base and everyone settles back to their places.
Tony's up to bat and Bucky and Natasha stand behind the fence. Neither of them say a word, but their tense shoulders say it all.
Tony swings hard, his eyes razor sharp, and the clanging sound that the connection makes is sweet to his ears. Clint runs home, sliding in as Steve rounds third. He's a little wobbly and gets tagged out at home, but he's still smiling as he stumbles into the dugout. "Got 'em." He says, sitting on the bench, his eyes closing. "Now we're winning."
"You're a loon." Clint says sharply. But he hands Steve a water bottle and the kid smiles.
Someone from the other team gets the third out and Steve stands up to take his place at shortstop. "No, Steve, you can sit out, be our coach or something." Natasha tries.
Steve looks affronted. "No way, I'm not letting that jerk think he beat me! I'm fine. My eye is fine. Looks worse than it is." He pushes past them onto the field and they all sigh in resignation.
The first player up to bat, a kid named Aldrich Killian, manages to shift forward, getting hit by the ball and walking to first. Clint seethes, but shakes it off. They make it through the first two outs easily, although Killian is able to make it to third base. There's only one more out, and Clint is ready for this game to finish when Rumlow steps up to bat.
All of them tense, crouching and getting ready to do whatever it takes to get him out. If they can get him out without Killian scoring then they'll win.
Rumlow's body language is coiled like a spring, the bat raised and his hands tight on the grip. Clint takes a deep breath, winds up, and releases the ball, a tightwinder he hopes will throw Rumlow for a loop.
Except Rumlow makes a connection. Hitting the ball just underneath, giving it some height. One of the other teammates gets under it, tries to catch it, but he misses. Killian takes that as his cue to run and he races towards home.
The other teammate picks up the ball and throws it to Natasha to try to get him out at home plate. Natasha reaches out, stretching out her glove to catch it when Killian runs into her. Knocking her over and the ball hits the ground. Killian scores and his team cheers as Rumlow rounds second. Steve takes a split second before making a decision. He bounds forward, picking up the ball with his left hand as Rumlow is halfway between home and third. Steve turns to face him, his face set in determination. Rumlow growls in frustration as he's caught between Steve and Tony. Steve steps to home plate, forcing Rumlow to retreat to third. Steve throws it to Tony, trying to catch him but Rumlow changes direction, racing back towards home.
"Steve!' Tony shouts, throwing the ball as quickly as he can. Steve catches it, but Rumlow doesn't stop, barreling into him, knocking him off home plate in hopes it will make Steve drop the ball. They both go tumbling to the ground, a heap of arms and legs. Batroc, the umpire steps forward and pulls Rumlow off the ground. Natasha, Clint and Tony make it there first, Bucky right behind. They look at the figure on the ground.
Steve lays there, face up, covered in dirt, eye bruised and bloody again and clothes a rumpled mess, but he looks up at them and a white smile cuts through the grime on his face as he opens his glove and shows them the ball still nestled there. His teammates let out a whoop and a cheer as they haul him off the ground and dust him off. Steve looks over at Rumlow, whose face is pinched and furious. "Maybe next time." Steve says evenly as he turns to walk stiffly towards the dugout. Clint does not miss the way Rumlow's eyes follow Steve as he walks away. Something like a predator watching his prey present in them. Clint steps behind Steve, blocking Rumlow's view.
"Okay." Tony huffs, "Steve, you're our MVP. But holy hell, stop making things worse with Rumlow. That guy is a menace. You hear me?" Steve just scoffs, but the smile never leaves his face. "We have three outs to win this thing. We're tied now. But we just need one point. I definitely don't want to go to the 10th inning. So, first up is…"
He looks at the batting list and motions for someone from the other team to go. The kid gets struck out but no one complains, Rumlow's pitches are getting more vicious.
The second out has their teeth on edge. Bucky steps up, grabbing his bat and striding forward.
"You got this, Barnes!" Tony calls.
"Come on, Bucky!" Steve shouts, "Come on home!"
Bucky looks back, Steve stands behind the fence, dusty and bruised and smiling. He takes a deep breath and shakes out his shoulders, getting into stance and facing Rumlow. "Bring it on." He whispers.
Rumlow wings up, throwing a fastball that Bucky's eyes can barely track, but he lets his instincts take over, dozens of hours with his dad playing catch or practicing on the field, he swings, his arms slicing through the air. His shoulders and arms reverberate with the force of the ball hitting the bat, but he stays strong, swinging through. The ball flies, arching up and racing towards the fence.
He's stunned momentarily until he hears Natasha screaming, "RUN YOU IDIOT! RUN!" He does.
He rounds third as he hears the shouts around him increase in tempo, they must be about to throw him out at home. He doesn't glance backwards, just increases his speed, using the adrenaline to boost him. At the last second he slides into home, raising a cloud of dust as he glides over the plate.
"Safe!" The umpire calls and equal parts groans and cheers are heard. Suddenly there's 9 pairs of hands hauling him up and slapping his back and shaking him.
"We won! We won!" Someone is shouting and they're all cheering. Bucky is smiling and cheering and part of the celebration until he catches Rumlow staring at them. No, not them. Steve. He follows Rumlow's glare to Steve who is laughing and talking excitedly with Clint and Natasha. The look Rumlow is giving him is downright murderous and it sends a spike of fear down Bucky's spine.
If looks could kill.
—
They decide to celebrate at Milo's. Clint's uncle treats them all to free milkshakes and fries and they laugh and talk about the game, Steve is the most animated as he describes getting bowled over by Rumlow.
Clint watches his uncle grab Steve's chin and examine the goose egg over his eyebrow. "Geez." His uncle comments. "He clocked you good."
"Yeah, the asshole did it on purpose too. Stupid ump was biased." Clint seethes and the rest nod in agreement.
Steve just smiles as his face is still held in Clint's uncle's large hands, "I'm all good guys. It isn't anything I can't handle."
They talk for a while before Steve says he needs to go and Bucky says he'll walk with him. Steve walks towards the door and Bucky whispers to the table before taking after him.
"He doesn't walk alone. Not anywhere. You hear?" His face is deadly serious, "Rumlow isn't going to let this go." They nod and then they're gone. The door swinging shut behind them.
Tony turns towards Clint and Natasha. "Okay. Soooo…."
They look at him and he crinkles up his nose "I may or may not have… but definitely did… put a listening device in Steve's shirt."
Their faces of disbelief have him holding up his hands, "Now before you go accusing me of violating his privacy, which I mean, yeah, but it's up for debate if it's for his safety."
"Tony—" Natasha starts, but there's no real fire in her voice.
"Listen." Tony says, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "I did some digging. Apparently, kids in abusive homes don't come forward because it usually ends up worse for them. So you know how you," he points to Natasha, "thought the TA knew something was up? And then suddenly Steve's missing for two days?" They nod. Not liking the direction this is taking. "I think maybe the TA tried to call CPS and it ended worse for Steve. Haven't you noticed how present he's been lately? Banner? Like always near our table, asking Steve and us questions, like he's around us more than the other groups by far. But he can't do anything because last time he tried it made it worse for Steve. Or that's what I'm assuming. I've been reading news reports and I looked where Bucky said he thought the area Steve might live in is, guessing from their subway stop, and it's notorious for these types of cases to be ignored or mishandled. So, now it's up to us. We need proof. And the bug I planted on him will help."
"So, you're just gunna be a creep and listen to him?" Clint asks.
Tony scoffs, "you call it being creepy, I call it investigative protection. The kid literally doesn't have a self-preservating bone in his body. You see the way he just stood there and let Rumlow tackle him just to get him out? Yeah, I don't trust him to take care of himself."
Natasha's eyebrows raise. "So you're gunna take care of him?"
Tony wrinkles his nose. "Okay, let's just calm down. I'm just saying that the kid needs help. I'm not one to deny someone help. Especially not someone brave enough to stand up to that jerk, Rumlow." He wipes his hands on a napkin. "You guys want to come over? We can listen in and see what type of response Steve gets to his face."
Clint looks at Natasha and Natasha glances back. "Um.. okay, but can I bring my little sister? I'm supposed to pick her up from her martial arts class and walk her home."
Tony shrugs, "fine by me."
—
Bruce steps into his office and stops.
Something's off.
He steps around his desk and looks, not touching anything. He sits down at his chair and tries to think why he feels like something's wrong.
He opens his drawers and closes them. His phone and wallet are right where left them… He's about to shake off the feeling when he notices his briefcase. A corner of one paper sticks out and he reaches, gently tugging it free. It's Steve's file, specifically the one that has Steve's personal information on it. Age, school records, his home address.
Bruce looks from the paper to the briefcase. He's sure he didn't leave that paper sticking out. It's almost as if someone had taken it out and replaced it in a hurry. He stands up, paper in hand and dashes out the door. He sees a door swinging shut at the other end of the hall and he runs towards it, bursting through.
But only an empty hallway greets him.
He walks back to his office, a worried tension sinking his stomach like a stone.
—-