Natasha takes off with Yelena, but threatens them to tell her if they hear anything. They promise that they will.
Jarvis drives them to Tony's house and they get to his room.
His dad pops his head in, "I got a call from Strange, he said everything went smoothly?"
"If by smoothly you mean the with decided to let Steve out of whatever prison she'd locked him in to get money then yes."
"It's something." Howard offers.
"I guess. Can I add a specification to Steve's glasses?"
"Like what?"
"EnChroma."
Howard scrubs at the bridge of his nose, "is there a problem this kid doesn't have?"
Tony watches as Bucky's fist clenches its knuckles pale and he feels a similar annoyance.
"Not for much longer." He snaps. Howard just nods, looking at the three of them.
"Let me know how I can help."
Tony feels surprise on his face again, but hides it quickly, "we will."
Once his dad is gone, he taps into his computer and rewinds the recording.
They listen as Steve and Jarvis chat on the walk home and Tony can't help but smile at how the little kid, Peter, seems to hang on Steve's every word, asking question after question that Steve is endlessly patient for.
They skip ahead and stop when they hear a new voice, her voice.
"So you're all back?"
"Yes ma'am." Steve says flatly.
Any of you blind? The lady laughs and Clint clenches his jaw at the joke.
"Four of us require glasses. They'll be delivered soon."
"Wonder if they'll be worth anything? Maybe I could sell them." The lady says in a snide tone that has Tony instantly standing up, fury on his face. The silence from Steve is almost palpable. The lady huffs, "you're too gullible for your own good Steve. So what will it be, you wanna go back to the basement?"
Steve's voice is a bit brittle when he responds, "no ma'am."
"Then are you gunna tell me where you were last night?"
"I told you, I was hanging out with friends from my summer class."
"Don't lie to me, Rogers. No one would be friends with you. Where were you really? Probably scrounging in the trash cans again, am I right?"
Bucky can't even see straight, he wants to punch the screen. One look at Tony and Clint tells him they feel the same.
Steve doesn't answer and it's a desperate silence. A silence of shame.
They are glaring at the screen as the realization sinks in, she has actually caught him digging through dumpsters.
Bucky chokes, "I can't— we have to do something."
"We are doing something." Tony hisses. He's glaring at the screen too, the little audio wave flat as no one speaks. "We're getting evidence."
The lady speaks again, smug, "that's what I thought."
—
Nothing else happens that night and Clint goes back to Milo's.
"—and so Tony installed a recorder in Steve's hearing aide and we're collecting evidence against her."
His uncle stares at him, face a bit pulled back in surprise. They may not be blood related but they do share something as his uncle leans forward, his voice deep. "You're telling me, that not only is Sarah Rogers' is dead, but I sat here, talking her up and rubbing how great she was in his face? And you didn't think to tell me?"
Clint winces, "to be fair, Steve just found out we knew not even 24 hours ago."
His uncle leans back, scrubbing at his eyes. 'Geez, kid. That's a whole lot to process."
"You're telling me."
"I'mma make you a lunch to take to him tomorrow."
"No need. Tony's got it covered."
His uncle looks him over, an appraising look. "You know, I dunno what it is about this kid, but… he's changed you."
Clint narrows his eyes, his pride raising his hackles. "What'd' ya mean?"
"I mean, you've always been a pretty black and white kid, even when you went through your… phase." Clint snorts, that's a delicate way of putting it, "and I watched you, unable to do anything, but seeing you here now, trying to help this kid? I'm proud. I know your ma would be too."
Clint rolls his eyes, but can't help the grin on his face.
—-
Natasha eyes them darkly as they hem and haw over whether to tell her what they heard last night. They'd promised to tell her whatever they heard, but admitting that Steve has had to resort to digging through dumpsters just seems too much.
"You heard something. Tell me."
Eventually they give in under her steely glare and are unsurprised when the pen she's holding in her hand snaps in half.
—
When Steve makes his way down to the cafeteria, Tony stops him from sitting down and announces that they're not eating there.
"Follow me."
He walks them out to the courtyard, and they arrive at the stone table they'd sat at before. Pizza boxes, a bowl of salad, and large bottles of soda are present. "I didn't want cafe food, and I gave our kitchen staff the day off from making me lunch, so I figured, hey, treat ourselves!"
He waves at the boxes and starts dishing them out, handing Steve a plate with 5 slices.
"Tony," Steve laughs, "I can't eat this much."
"That's quitter talk." Tony gripes. "I need all of you fueled up for this afternoon. We're having a big meeting at my house and I need your brains firing on all cylinders. That sound okay?"
They nod and agree and start eating. Halfway through their meal, Rumlow and a few of his cronies wander over.
"Heard y'all were having a pizza party like a 6 year olds birthday."
Tony doesn't glance up, "Rumlow, why don't you stick your nose somewhere where the sun don't shine and leave us the hell alone."
Rumlow's grin turns wicked, "now, why would I do that when we're such great friends?" He slaps his hands down onto Steve's shoulders, making the kid wince.
"Get your hands off him." Clint snarls.
Rumlow's grip tightened. "He's a big strong boy, he's fine, aren't you fine Steve?'
Steve's shoulders were rigid and his eyes pointed at the table, "I'm fine."
"See! He's fine, don't get your panties in a twist."
"What the hell do you want, Rumlow." Natasha says, standing up.
"I just wanted to challenge you guys to a bet. A wager."
"No." All four say, only Steve remaining quiet.
"Oh, come on," Rumlow teases, "it will be fun! We'll make the ending project more interesting."
"Please take your hands off my shoulders." Steve finally says, his throat tight.
"Ah, come on, pal. We're buddies. We've played baseball together, we've broke bread together." As he says this he reaches over onto Steve's plate and grabs a slice, stuffing it in his mouth.
"Piss off!" Bucky shouts, standing up and yanking at Rumlow's shoulder. Rumlow laughs and shoves him back, Bucky stumbles and sits down hard on the stone bench.
The sound of a wet slap and a huff of surprise brings the courtyard to a silence.
Tony stares wide eyed as Rumlow blinks, pizza sauce and cheese dripping down his face, and visible in his hair. Steve is twisted at the waist, face angry and the piece of pizza he'd just slapped onto Rumlow dropping to the ground.
Clint snorts, trying to cover his laughter but Rumlow's eyes snap to him and his face turns murderous. He wipes at his eyes, smearing the sauce and reaches down, yanking Steve up by his long sleeved shirt collar and scraping him against the stone as he drags him off the bench.
"You think that's funny, you little rat!"
"Let me go!" Steve shouts, swinging his fists and pummeling against Rumlow's chest who acts like he's just a fly to be swatted. He's dragging Steve further away from the group and they're all jumping up, ready to intervene when a booming voice cuts through the courtyard.
"Let him GO!" Rumlow freezes, looking up to the double doors that enter into the school and instantly dropping Steve to the ground.
Bruce walks out, striding forward angrily and stabbing a finger in Rumlow's face. "What do you think you are doing?"
"They attacked me first!" He shouts, stepping backwards, "Barnes shoved me and Steve attacked me with a pizza."
Bruce's jaw is tight and flexed, one hand clenched at his side and the other still pointing at Rumlow. "I watched the whole thing, don't pretend you didn't antagonize them. Get out of here."
Rumlow rolls his eyes and disappears, his cronies already gone.
Bruce holds a hand out to Steve who grabs it, letting himself be hauled back up onto his feet. "He's really got it out for you." Bruce says. "You need to be careful. Bullies like him don't let stuff go."
Steve just shrugs, wiping the dirt and grass off his clothes.
"Are we not going to address the fact that Steve just slapped Rumlow with a piece of freaking pizza?!" Tony crows, "I've never—" he laughs and laughs and the tension from the courtyard fades, Steve turning a shade of red.
They hand Bruce a box of pizza. He tries to turn it down, but Tony insists. "Hey, us science people gotta stick together. You helped us, let us help you."
Bruce just chuckles, holding the box under his arm and letting his eyes slide to Steve. "You're sure you're okay?"
Steve huffs, "I'm fine, thanks."
"Stay outta trouble." Tony doesn't miss the way Bruce's face turns worried when he thinks they've stopped watching. He waves goodbye and heads back inside.
—
"What are we gunna do about Rumlow?" Clint asks as the lunch hour draws to a close. "If we don't do something he's going to annoy us for the rest of the program."
"Maybe we should see what his wager is." Their eyes snap to Steve, who's casually stabbing at his salad with a fork as he speaks, "maybe if we agree to his stupid bet, he'll leave us alone until then."
Clint sees it then, he's unsure how he missed it before, but Steve is clearly fuming, angry and embarrassed about the whole situation. Hated being touched, hated being dragged.
"Steve," Natasha cautions, "bullies like him aren't going to play fair."
Steve's eyes are steady as he stares at each one of them, "And you think that's reason not to? You think we'd lose?"
And just like that each one of them feels a flip, as if Steve had found her weakness, her pride and his piercing gaze, daring her to back down from a fight.
She scoffs, "fine. As long as you don't expect me to play fair." Steve's grin is immediate and he looks to the others.
"Well?"
"Hell I'm up for anything else that might end with Rumlow's face covered in pizza sauce." Tony quips, nodding.
Clint is hesitant. He's known people to retaliate a lot worse for a lot less. It's dangerous to provoke a bully like Rumlow. Bucky seems equally hesitant, "I don't know, Steve. He already has it out for you, from the first day, how is putting you more in his crosshairs going to help?"
Steve stubbornly crosses his arms across his chest, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." His voice is sharp and filled with a surety that makes Bucky blink.
It's an ironic statement given everything that they know.
"Maybe we just hear the bet first." Clint offers, "before we agree?"
The rest nod in agreement, but Bucky sits there, dread in the pit of his stomach.
—
Bruce walks back towards the office and fills Erskine in on what he saw and what happened.
Erskine nods and they discuss what there is to be done.
"Him putting his hands on Steve was not right, but Barnes escalated it to a physical altercation and then it got out of control very quickly." Bruce clarifies, "I just hate the feeling that every year Rumlow gets away with this garbage. He's a bully and he knows how to ruffle feathers to get them to initiate, clearing him of blame. It's despicable."
Erskine's eye twinkle, "I agree."
"He should be banned."
"You'd have quite the fight on your hands from his parents. And then it would drag Barnes and Rogers' guardians into it as well."
Bruce winces, Erskine's implications clear. "Ugh." He sits down on the chair heavily. "I'm lucky I was passing by that window and saw. But from now on I'm keeping an extra close eye on Rumlow."
"I think that's wise."
—
They make it to Tony's house soon after school. They set their stuff down, grab bags of chips and packages of cookies, say hello to his mom, and head down to the lab.
His dad isn't home, but Tony starts flipping switches and initiating screens. The lab lights up, whirring to life and Tony rubs his hands eagerly. "Let's get to work!"
—-
About an hour later, one of the machines is printing a prototype and Tony stands up. "Okay, come this way."
He leads them up, through the kitchen and through a garage into another hallway. They enter into a tiled bathroom with a locker room attached and he stops. They glance around confused and he smiles. "Okay, I have every type of swimsuit imaginable here. You'll find something, let's swim."
He pushes open a door to reveal an indoor pool. The heat from the room is moist and warm, a perfect temperature.
"You have a pool!" Natasha cries, stepping forward eagerly and eyeing the vast body of water. "No way!"
"Way, little dancing queen, female suits are hung up there." He points to a few lockers, "guys over here."
Steve stands frozen, eyes on the pool.
"Steve?" Bucky asks, "you okay?"
"Oh, Uh—" he stammers, "I don't think I should."
"Should what, swim?'
"Yeah."
Bucky's brow furrows, why not?" Then something hits him, he lowers hisvoice to w a whisper "do… do you know how to swim?"
Steve's eyes cut up to him, annoyed, "of course I know how." He snaps, then ducks his head, "sorry. I shouldn't ha— sorry."
"No, no." Bucky says quickly, "I just didn't know why you wouldn't want to then."
Steve takes a deep breath, "I—"
Bucky waits.
Steve wrinkles his nose, "never mind."
He brushes past a confused Bucky and starts sifting through suits.
—
Steve's the last one out, nervously tugging at the hemline of the long sleeve shirt he's still wearing. His legs, tan, blonde hairs sun bleached, but too thin, are on display.
"Come on, Steve!' Tony calls, "the water's fine!"
He's about to step in the pool when Clint calls out, "Steve, your shirt's still on."
He goes bright red, tugging on it again and the group waits as he seems to make a decision. He tugs it up and off over his head, throwing the shirt towards one of the lounge chairs and turning to face them. His face is guarded, as if he expects them to say something.
But there aren't any words.
Each one stares at the ribs on display. Shoulder bones protruding against the skin and sharp elbows.
But that's not what draws their eyes the most. A huge burn mark on his elbow, a jagged scar running from his sharp collarbone down to his sternum, and a large bruise rippling out from his hip bone.
"What are you waiting for?" Bucky says, his voice cracking, "jump in." Steve seems to relax and he does as instructed, submerging himself before popping back up through the water.
It's only once he's distracted by swimming that Bucky glances around to see the tight lipped expressions on each one of their faces, his included.
—
The four of them are sitting on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water. Steve is back in the locker room, using the bathroom. They don't speak, just the sounds of their legs moving against the water filling the room.
Clint reaches backwards, laying his back on the tile and grabbing his pants that are laying on one of the chairs. He pulls out a cigarette pack, brandishing them at the there's. "Any of you mind?"
They nod 'no' and he pulls one out, putting it between his lips and reaching back into his pockets for his lighter.
He lights it, puffing out a few breaths before his shoulders relax and he sits back up, staring at the water. "That burn is new." His voice is low, and there's a steel behind it.
"The one on his elbow?" Natasha asks, "how do you know?"
"I'm positive I didn't see it before. I just thought he ran cold because he's freaking skin and bone. But he didn't always wear long sleeves. Just in the last few weeks."
"The size and scarring of it tell me it wasn't treated." Tony adds, his feet swirling in lazy circles.
"It's despicable."
"I don't know how long we can just sit around here, doing nothing."
"Add it to the evidence." Bucky says. "Then we're doing something."
Clint inhales a large pull, when a voice speaks, "what evidence?"
They all turn at the same time to find Steve right behind them, a perplexed expression on his face.
Clint exhales, sending a large puff of smoke into the air. "Evidence for our final project." He lies easily. "We need to have proof for why we think our product will be successful."
Steve's face turns sour, he swallows heavily and nods, sitting down beside Bucky and going quiet.
Clint glances at Natasha who shrugs. They continue talking, Tony and Clint discussing how to present the project while Natasha keeps throwing wrenches into the plans they're talking about.
Clint's on his second cigarette before Bucky notices.
Steve has angled himself from them, his shoulders hunched and head ducked down.
"Steve." Bucky calls. When he doesn't answer, Bucky places his hands on his shoulder and tries again, "Steve, hey, you okay?"
Still no response. Bucky pulls harder on Steve's shoulder, only to have Steve swat at his hand, but the effort is so weak that a sense of fear runs up Bucky. "Steve? Hey, Steve! What's going on!" The others have stopped and turned towards them. Bucky pulls Steve's shoulder hard, forcing him to turn towards them. Steve's eyes are red and watering, his face pale and drawn, and the worst part. He tries to breathe and all Bucky hears is a rasp of barely passing air.
Three sets of eyes go wide, "Steve!" Natasha shrieks, leaping up and kneeling quickly beside him, "what's happening!"
Steve blinks slowly, his hands trembling as they clutch and push against his suit. He tries to pull in another breath and Bucky watches the panic in his eyes as he doesn't get enough oxygen.
Tony's gone, running out of the room, the door slamming behind him.
"Steve!' Bucky tries, "what do we do? What's wrong!" Another raspy and too short breath is his response. They freak out, laying him down on his back and fluttering their hands around him, shouting at each other.
Steve doesn't have the focus to say anything, just barely blinks his eyelashes at them, but his breathing is worse than before so they haul him back up and set him in front of Bucky, who holds him around the chest, propping him up. They all share the same terrified look.
Tony comes busting back into the room, his mom following on his heels.
She heads for Steve immediately and crouches beside him, listening to his breathing and feeling his pulse.
"Steve," she tries, "Steve can you hear me? If you have asthma can you blink once?"
They watch as Steve slowly blinks.
Clint swears, standing up and shoving himself away from them.
Natasha glares at the sudden movement but turns back to Steve.
"Tony." His mother tries, but he's too busy staring at Steve in fear, "TONY!" His eyes snap to hers. "Your dad has that medical kit, the one we use for your cousin when he's here? Go get it."
Tony's gone, his footsteps receding.
"Steve," she says calmly, "stay calm, try to take as many slow deep breaths as you can. Can you blink if you understand me?"
His blink turns into his eyes closing and his breathing going too shallow.
She taps at his cheek, "no, no, stay awake for me Steve!" His eyes blink open, staring dolefully at her, "I need you to—"
Tony slams back into the room, skidding to a stop next to his mom and handing her the case. She snaps it open, grabbing an inhaler and lifting Steve's head back up, "I need you to take deep breaths, Steve. It may not be the right dosage, but it's better than nothing."
She puts the inhaler to his lips and instructs him to breathe as best he can on her count.
He follows her instructions, taking several puffs before it seems to take effect.
The others stand around, tense and rigid, ready to snap. Almost 20 minutes passes before Steve can muster up the energy to speak or sit on his own. Once she's satisfied he's okay, she leaves, her eyes watching them as she exits.
His cheeks are aflame and his eyes don't leave his own hands. "Sorry." He mumbles, his voice a rasp from a raw throat.
"What the hell happened?" Tony asks, the concern and confusion etched in his voice, "you have asthma?"
"Yeah." Steve says softly, "I've had it since I was little."
"So what made it act up?" Natasha queries.
Steve's response is too quick. "It was nothing. It happens sometimes."
Clint scowls, "that's bullshit, Steve and you know it!"
Steve's eyes don't leave his hands, but he doesn't respond.
"What do you mean?" Bucky asks, his eyes turning to Clint.
"It was me." Clint says fiercely, his face contorting, "ME. The smoking. Steve— I, can't you just—!" He groans, ripping at his short blonde hair, his shoulders curved forward, "you have asthma and you just let me smoke around you? Don't you have any self-preservation at all!" The words are fast and angry but the facial expression is wretched and guilt ridden.
"It's no big dea—" Steve starts to say before Bucky cuts him off.
"No big deal? No big deal? You just almost suffocated to death!"
"I didn't." He insists, eyes still on the ground.
"I almost killed you." Clint says flatly, "you could have died and you didn't say a damn thing."
"I thought it would pass." Steve says, his voice brittle and annoyed, "I hoped it would pass. I've run into smoke before and it's passed, but I've never—-" His voice cracks, the rawness of his throat causing him to cough hard. He draws in a deep shaky breath. "I didn't want to cause a commotion for nothing."
Tony hands Steve a bottle of water, which he drinks gratefully.
"What time is it?" Steve asks, looking for a clock.
"It's 4:15, Jarvis will drop you at Bucky's house, is that okay?"
Steve leans bonelessly against the lounge chair, he nods and his eyes sag a bit.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, just tired."
"Okay, let's get you home." Bucky says, "we'll see you guys tomorrow."
Tony walks Bucky and Steve out of the pool room, and the door swings closed Leaving a stiff and furious Clint and a cautious Natasha.
"You didn't know." She offers.
He stabs his fingers against his eye sockets, rubbing roughly, "I can't believe I—-" He chokes, his voice crackling, "I almost killed him, the kid who saved my life and suffers more than I can ever understand and I just sat here, smoking, like an asshole!"
"He should have said something." She says softly, trying to comfort him.
"You're damn right!" Clint shouts, startling her, "he should have, but he doesn't! Why? I'll tell you the hell why! Because he's asked that witch for help and all she does is neglect him! Burn him, beat him, lock him up! Of course he doesn't tell people what he needs! Look at what's happened before!" He's furious and slightly hysterical and Natasha tugs him down back to the tile. "I almost killed him. I almost killed him."
"But you didn't. He's okay. He's gonna be okay."
Clint's face morphs, turning to disgust. He grabs the cigarette pack laying in his jeans and tears it, snapping each cigarette and crumpling them. "That's it. I'm done. I've been trying to quit. No better reason."
She looks at him, eyebrow raised and face amused, "just like that? Cold turkey?"
He glares at her, grabbing at the pile to throw it into the trash. "Yeah. Just like that."
—-