"You're an idiot, you know that." Bucky glares at Steve who's staring at his hands. The car rolls to a stop and Steve thanks Jarvis before getting out, ignoring Bucky's comment. "Steve."

But Steve doesn't stop, his shoulders up around his ears, walking away.

"Steve, stop!" Bucky runs up behind him and grabs at his arm. But Steve flinches away. Bucky recoils as if slapped.

"Sorry." Steve mutters miserably, still walking towards his home. Bucky recovers and plants himself in front of Steve, forcing him to stop.

"I'm done figuring these things out, after it's too late."

Steve tilts his head. "Figure out what stuff?"

Bucky looks at him, trying to decide something when he huffs and scrubs at his face. "you, Steve. I'm done finding out what the problem is after the fact."

"What are you talking about?" Steve's face hardens, "there's no problems."

Steve pushes past him and rounds a corner.

But Bucky's anger flares. This kid is such an idiot, he almost died because he didn't want to say anything. He quickly overtakes Steve's pace and stops him in his tracks again. "No, Steve. There are problems. You're half blind, you're deaf in one ear. You're being burned and beaten at home! You—"

Steve's face flattens and he tries to step around him but Bucky doesn't let him, blocking his path. "I'm fine—" Steve spits out, teeth clenched, still trying to escape him.

"You're not fine! Steve, that's bullshit! You had bruises on your neck and that burn wasn't there at the beginning, so it's happening to you now. Not to mention you and your siblings are being starved—"

He cuts off as Steve stops trying to get around him. His face crumples and he jams his head into his hands. Bucky's stunned for one second before his brotherly instinct takes over and he's hauling Steve into his arms and hugging him, just like he would Becca. "I'm sorry." Bucky rasps. "I didn't mean to—" he feels Steve wiping at his eyes and he hugs him tighter, "I just don't know what to do, you need help. Let me help—"

He feels Steve stiffen under his grasp. "No," he whispers, "No, please just leave it be."

"No way!"

"You'll make it worse." Steve admits miserably, pushing back out of Bucky's arms. Bucky's never seen his face so forlorn as Steve looks past him down the street. "I've tried so many times. I've tried so many different ways. It just makes it worse. She knows. She always knows. Please, just leave it be."

The admittance doesn't surprise him that much. It's not surprising that Steve would have tried to do something to help the other kids. But all the more reason.

"Steve, we're not just letting this go—"

"We?"

Bucky hesitates and gives Steve a knowing look.

Steve groans, "I'm fine. It's just 4 more years and then I'll be out of there and I'll try to fight for custody—" Bucky feels the surprise cross his face.

"You're gunna try to adopt all of those kids?"

Steve's face darkens, "I can't leave them alone with her. I'll do whatever it takes—"

"No judge in their right mind would—"

But the flash of anger across Steve's face cuts him off, "I have to try something. I can't just leave them there with her alone!"

"Then let us help you."

"No, you don't get it, she—"

"Steve! We already have a plan!"

This stops him short, "a plan?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

Bucky frowns, "I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell you."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Great." Then he glares at Bucky. "Is this why Tony had all of us see a doctor?"

Bucky looks sideways. "I'm not saying a thing." Steve huffs and throws his hands up in the air before walking past him. Bucky about faces and matches his stride. "Just… what else?"

"What else what?"

"What else will cause you to spontaneously suffocate."

Steve glares at him, crossing his arms as he marches forward.

"I'm being serious!" Bucky growls, "your little stunt back there took a freaking year off my life from worry. So spill."

"You already listed them all."

"No, you're lying." The side eye from Steve is wary and annoyed. "You're allergic to a lot."

Bucky watches as Steve's shoulders sag. "Yeah."

"There's nothing wrong with being allergic to stuff, Steve." There's a clawing desperation that appears on Steve's face. "What?"

"Nothing." He rasps.

"No. No more of this tough guy routine! Tell me!"

"I'm not trying to be tough." His voice is annoyed and brittle. Bucky rolls his eyes as they stop at the corner right around the door from Steve's home. "I'm not." Steve insists, shame clearly written across his eyes and facial expression.

"Then what?"

Bucky watches as Steve stares at his shoes, his hands fidgeting with his school bag. "It's just… it's hard to get enough to eat already, without being allergic to half the food she buys."

The open raw nature of that statement cuts Bucky to the quick. He feels his fist clench and he tilts his head down to catch Steve's eyeline.

"Not for much longer. We have a plan."

Something about the plain look of disbelief on Steve's face adds to Bucky's growing sense of dread. "Okay." Steve says quietly before turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

—-

Clint finds himself reaching into his pocket multiple times.

He's thrown the pack away. His brain knows that. And the two he had at home too. But his hands keep searching for them out of habit.

—

Natasha fills Yelena in on what happened at Tony's and Yelena nods along with the story, cutting Natasha off before she finishes.

"Yeah! That happened when he was still at my school! The firefighters came and did a demonstration and he started getting really wheezy and couldn't breath! They kept asking where his inhaler was but he just told them he'd left it at home. He was missing from school the next day or two after that. So he didn't have his inhaler today either?"

Natasha hears their parents having a screaming match down the hall. She looks at the fading wallpaper and sighs. "I don't think he has one, Lena. I think that's just a lie he tells to keep people from worrying that he doesn't have one."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he's an idiot."

"Tasha!"

Natasha sighs, Steve's pale and gray face flashing before her eyes. The sound of his lungs barely wheezing in oxygen clear in her ears. "I don't mean it like that. I just…"

"Worry about him?"

"Yeah."

—

Tony's sleeping, or dozing. It's one of those half sleeps where his brain is taking a pause during one of his intense coding sessions.

A sound wakes him up. He jolts awake and blinks, unsure of what he heard. But then it happens again. A distant whimper. Whatever the sound is must wake up Steve because Tony hears him yawn and then move.

"Peter? Peter, wake up."

There's more whimpering, a sad little sound that Tony now recognizes. A nightmare.

"Peter, you gotta wake up, you're just dreaming. You're okay."

Peter must wake because there's a soft sniffling sound and Steve's talking a little more calmly.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks softly, "you want to talk about it?"

There's an incoherent mumbling and Steve is chuckling. "Come on up out of there, come on— yeah, I gotcha, there we go. Tell me about it?"

"The same one…" Peter's voice says softly.

There's a sad silence, "your uncle Ben?"

Peter must nod because Steve is speaking again. "I wish I could have met him, he sounds like he was really cool. You wanna talk about him?"

"I don't wanna be sad."

Steve huffs a sad chuckle, "you know… I miss my mom. And you're right. At first it was really hard to talk about her. Hurt too much. But… if I don't talk about her, then who will? After a while, it made me happier to talk about her more than it made me sad. It's good to remember the ones we love, especially if they're not here anymore."

Tony sits in silence. Just listening to the quiet whispers.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to leave us for your new friends are you?"

Even from the other side of town Tony can almost see the stricken look on Steve's face.

"What?" He whispers in a rasp, "no, I would never, why would you ask such a thing?"

"You're gone all the time now."

"Oh, Peter," Tony can hear the guilt in Steve's voice. "I'm so sorry. I don't mean to be gone so long. I'll try to be better at being home more. I promise."

That words must be lost on Peter because he just responds, "So you're staying?"

"Yeah, Peter, I'm staying. I'm not going anywhere."

Tony's sighs. They need to figure out a solution… and soon.

—

A shout wakes Tony. He slides out of his desk chair in surprise and slams his head on the desk as he tries to get up too quickly.

"Shit!" He exclaims, rubbing at the top of his forehead.

But someone is screaming and it distracts him from the growing goose egg on his head.

"Who left the dirty dishes in the sink!" The woman is screaming, "I refuse to live in a pigsty! Who did this!" The voice gets muffled and Tony assumes she's yelling in another room. Then she's back and screaming again.

"Which one of you rats did this!"

Steve's voice is deeper when he speaks, obviously just waking up, "what dishes were they?"

"It doesn't matter what dishes they are! I want to know who did it!"

"How can we know who did it if we don't know what dishes there are?"

Tony winces at the annoyance in Steve's voice. Tony's somehow surprised to find out that Steve does not seem like a morning person.

There's a pause and then a resounding slap.

"I won't have any of your back talk today!" She's shouting again. "You're getting too big for your britches and do I need to teach you another lesson? Aren't you getting tired of the basement?"

The threat and disgust in her voice makes the hairs on the back of Tony's neck stand up.

"You asked a question and I tried to get you the answer!" Steve's voice is still gravely with sleep, but Tony's shocked at the amount of vehemence on it. "You want me to just magically know who did it? How is asking what dishes they were backtalk?!"

Okay. Steve's really not a morning person.

There's a sharp intake of breath and Tony hears the squeaks of different children reacting to something.

"Let's see how talkative you are after Mr. Schmidt gets his hands on you!" They're moving, shuffling and struggling and Tony can hear Steve putting up a fight as she's shouting.

"Let me go!" He snaps, "stop!"

"You're not in charge here! She's hissing at him. "It's high time you stop acting all high and mighty!"

"Let him go!" A squeak of a voice speaks.

Steve's voice is sharp and full of fear, "Peter, get back in the room, right now!"

"Maybe I should let Mr. Schmidt teach the little one a lesson, maybe you'd both learn that you shouldn't be ungrateful dirty wretches!"

"Don't you dare touch him!" Steve seethes. "Don't you dare."

Tony hears the woman laughing and a thrill of fear runs up his spine. Tony's on his feet, his phone in his hand, and he's running.

—

"JARVIS!"

The man, somehow ready at all hours of the day, walks around the corner from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Yes, sir?"

"Come right now, please!!" He's dialing a number on his phone and dragging the man back to his room.

—

"— a matching set would look very nice on those skeleton arms!" The woman is screeching when they enter the room. Tony can hear Steve's breath is a wheeze, and he's not saying anything anymore.

Tony shoves the phone into Jarvis' hands, pressing call. "Tell her the glasses are ready!" He huffs, his heartbeat too fast, "tell her we need to see every kid to make sure they fit!"

Jarvis looks confused until a ringing sound blares from the computer speakers. Ringing once, twice.

The woman has fallen quiet. There's movement and a voice speaks from Tony's phone.

"Hello?"

Jarvis looks momentarily stunned but recovers quickly. "Hello madam, I'm calling because I've received word that the glasses for the children are ready and we would like to come by—" he pauses and Tony motions at a time on the clock, "this afternoon to test out the spectacles to make sure they are the proper sizes and correct prescription." Tony makes the universal sign for money and Jarvis nods, "there will be a payment for each child seen since we know this is late notice. Is today acceptable for you?"

Tony hears Steve's quiet but raspy breathing as the woman is silent.

"Yes," she says finally, "that will be fine. What time?" Tony holds up fingers and Jarvis nods.

"Would 4:30pm be acceptable?"

"Yes, that's fine."

"Thank you, see you this afternoon."

The line goes dead and Jarvis stands still, the phone in his hand. "I think you have some explaining to do, sir." He says with an eyebrow raised.

Tony opens his mouth to speak but they hear her speak first.

"Today's your lucky day, you little wretch. You better be here by 4:30 or you won't be going back."

Steve's voice is quite, breathy. "I'll be here."

They hear a door slam and little feet patter into the room.

Steve's voice is quiet but stern. "Peter, don't you ever do that again! She could have turned on you! And then what would I have done?"

"I wanted to help." Peter pouts.

Steve snaps softly, "Promise you won't do that again!"

"No." Jarvis and Tony trade surprised glances, "I wanna help."

Steve sighs. "I know, I know. I just… It's really scary to me the thought of her hurting you. Please, Peter, I'm begging you, don't do that again." There's a small huff but no argument and the sounds of walking and kids talking fills the space.

"Are you okay?" Another voice asks.

"Yeah, Pietro, I'm good. Saved by the phone."

"Who's dishes were they?"

"I didn't really get a good look, but my bet is they're hers from her drinking binge last night. I'll wash them before I go to school."

Jarvis eyes Tony curiously.

"Sir, I thought the glasses weren't going to be ready till tomorrow."

"They're not." Tony responds, clicking through screens and saving different sections of the audio files to separate folders. "But if we show up with 'bad' ones. And promise to pay her double to bring the right ones the next day, then we buy ourselves one more day of keeping them safe."

"Is this… the climate that Steve' lives in constantly?" Tony glances back at Jarvis, a sour look on his face. He'd explained some of Steve's situation, but hearing it was something else entirely.

"Yeah." Tony exhales, "from what I can tell, that's the norm. But not for long." Tony lets a smile cross his face. A dangerous, slow and smug smile as he speaks. "With what we just heard? That bitch is going down."

—

Tony says nothing about the incident that day. Not getting the chance to speak to the others privately. School ends and unlike usual, they go their separate ways.

—

Clint's crawling up the walls. It's only been 24 hours and his throat itches and his chest aches. After he can't stand to be in his room one more second he climbs up onto his fire escape, bringing a sandwich he'd asked his uncle for. Groaning at the humid evening, he crawls up the rest of the way until he lays on the rooftop, sweating and feeling like someone is knocking on his skull.

He chews mournfully and closes his eyes against the slanting evening sun.

It would be so easy.

There's a convenience store not two buildings over.

He wants to.

He wants to so bad.

Then he remembers the sound of Steve's wheeze. And the pleas of Miss Dawes, his step mom. His uncle.

He grits his teeth against the pounding behind his eyes.

He takes another bite.

—-

The ploy works perfectly. Jarvis reports that the lady was positively glowing when she was informed she'd be paid a second time.

Tony smiles.

—

Natasha sees Rumlow first, calling him over.

"You called?" He asks, a smug grin on his face.

"Yeah, what's the bet?" Natasha asks. "We wanna hear your big idea."

He slides his hands one over another and leans back against the next Cafe table. "Oh yeah? Couldn't resist, huh?"

"Couldn't resist another chance to kick your ass?" Clint taunts, "you bet."

Rumlow's eyes narrow, but he doesn't bite, "You wanna hear it or not?"

They nod and Rumlow stands, leaning over their table, palms down on the surface. "First, the prize money. Whoever wins the end of the program project gets a huge pot. I know Stark can afford it. So can I." Bucky looks about to argue, but Tony holds up his hand. Rumlow continues. "But whoever loses, is barred from applying again. They have to leave the program, and they can't come back next summer or ever."

They blink. That's not exactly what they were expecting, and it's actually a lot to lose.

"Nah." Clint says, brushing it off. "Pass."

Rumlow's grin slips thinner, "knew you all were a bunch of cowards."

Natasha's eyes flash, but Tony just scoffs. "We're not cowards, we're just smart enough to realize that the stakes aren't worth it."

"Not even enough confidence in your project."

"Do we have to beat everybody?" Steve pipes in, causing Rumlow's glare to land on him, "or just your group?"

There's a pause, Rumlow considers the counter. "Just each other's. Whoever is ranked higher wins."

"We'll think about it." Clint offers, his eyes closed and head leaned back against the top of the plastic chair. "We'll get back to you."

"You know where to find me." Rumlow smirks and disappears.

Steve looks at them and shrugs, "I say we go for it. Imagine not having to deal with him next year."

"Steve, if we lose that means we can't come back, ever."

He doesn't respond and the rest of the group sits in silence, thinking about the pros and cons.

—

They decide to do it.

"Okay." Tony says, getting Rumlow's attention at the end of the school day, "we're in."

The smile that crosses his face makes them want to retract their agreement immediately, but he just claps his hands and nods, as if he expected this. "Okay, and just for clarification, everyone must be an equal participant in the project. No one is dead weight. Each of you has to be present and an equal contributor to the project. You all have to be there for presentation day or you forfeit."

Something about that request raises questions, "why?"

"Because I don't want you guys hanging off of Stark's coattails and being allowed to be in this program without having earned your place."

It bristles them, but they bite back sharp comments and agree to his terms.

"We'll tear his team to shreds." Natasha seethes as they walk to Tony's house after school.

They nod in agreement and push Rumlow out of their minds as they get to work.

—

That afternoon finds Jarvis back in the house with Steve and the kids. He's careful to not show special attention to anyone, but he does hand out candy in addition to the money he gives the woman, and Steve may have ended up with a few extra pieces in his hands.

—-

The kids who need glasses stick around after the initial excitement of Mr. Jarvis' arrival.

"Alright, Daniel was it? here you are." He says, opening a box and handing a pair of glasses to him. Steve watches as Daniel slides them on and his eyes widen.

"Thanks, sir!"

Teresa is next and she smiles and thanks the man after receiving her glasses.

Mr. Jarvis calls Peter forward, and he nervously wrings his little hands as Mr. Jarvis unboxes his pair. "Here you are, Mr. Parker." Steve gives a wry smile at the sight of Peter wearing the small frames.

"You look real smart there, Peter." he quips. The little kid beams up at him and Steve beams back.

"Now, Mr. Rogers." Mr. Jarvis begins, pulling out the fourth and final box. "Yours has a special adjustment made."

Steve's eyebrows furrow in question, "it does?"

"Yes, quite. Here you are."

Steve takes the glasses gently, a lightweight but sturdy frame holds two thick glass lenses. He carefully slides them onto his face and his world changes.

—-

"Steve? Steve, are you okay?"

He hears Peter talking but he can't speak. His eyes are taking in not only the sharpness, the crispness, of everything around him, but the colors. The amazing diversity in colors, colors he doesn't ever remember seeing before.

"Are you hurt?" He finally comes back to reality at Peter yanking on his arm. He looks down and Peter looks worried, "are the glasses hurting you?"

"What?" He mumbles, "No, why?"

"You're crying."

Steve reaches his hand up in surprise and wipes away the moisture. "Oh! Oh, uh, sorry." He tries but he finds that the tears won't stop when he looks at something new and discovers a new color or detail he'd never seen before. Peter hugs at his waist and he hugs him back, inspecting the different shades of browns in Peter's hair, the color of his shirt, or the details of the wooden floorboards.

He finally looks up and sees Mr. Jarvis watching them with a fond smile on his face. With one arm still wrapped around Peter, he sticks out his other hand and Mr. Jarvis grasps it firmly. "Thank you, Mr. Jarvis, and tell him I said thank you too, I'm so grateful, more than I can express and more than I can ever repay."

Mr. Jarvis nods and departs, leaving Steve marveling at the new world around him.

—

*A/N - thank you to those who comment! It's so appreciated and I love reading your thoughts and guess or just interest!