"All done." Bruce says as he pulls the needle.

"Thanks." Steve whispers, pulling his sleeve down.

"Drink something. Probably should eat something too." Bruce adds as he turns to the machine that Tony installed. He slips the vials into the holders, "Jarvis can you analyze this against his previous sample? Tell us when the results are ready."

Of course, Dr. Banner.

"Do you want to play this game?"

"No."

Bruce sighs, "then don't."

Steve turns to him and frowns, "oh, and you think they're just going to magically leave me alone after I tell them I'm not playing?"

"Steve—" Bruce says, grabbing Steve's arm, "Tony's twice your age. Me and Nat and Clint are almost that. We're…" he huffs and Steve feels the way there's a tension in Bruce's fingers, "we had no idea. We didn't. The things you've been through in such a short amount of time—"

"I don't need your pity—"

"I'm not!" Bruce snaps. "That's not—" he sighs and lets go of Steve's arm, "I'm trying to compliment you. I'm really impressed. To be so young and to have done so much so well. It's… amazing really."

Steve has no response to that.

"No one is going to force you to play." Bruce adds, "If you want to go run and hide I won't hold it against you."

Steve winces. He doesn't like that phrase. Run and hide.

"Do you think they'll actually be honest?"

Bruce turns to him, and he nods, "yeah, I actually think they will be."

The deep breath he inhales exits slowly as a sigh.

—

Tony is genuinely surprised when Steve returns with Bruce. Sure he would rabbit at the first chance.

Natasha is pushing the comfiest chairs into a circle and Clint is sitting in each one trying to make it difficult for her. She slaps the back of his head and he pouts.

"Okay," She starts, "everyone pick a chair."

They all take a seat and Tony eyes Steve, who now looks so young and 's insane just knowing he's nineteen has made it all the more apparent that he's young. Tony's not sure how they all missed it. Probably behind the confidence and cowl.

"Everyone understands the rules?" Tony says as he taps at his screen, we're going to do this virtually so there's no cheating." He turns to Clint who huffs for a second before grinning. "Winner gets a whole shopping spree, courtesy of Stark Industries."

The group laughs and 5 sets of holographic hands pop up. Tony watches as Steve inspects the hologram of his own hands, wearing the fingerless gloves he has with his suit. Bruce rolls his eyes at the Hulk size hands and Tony smirks at the gauntlets in front of him.

"Let the game begin." He says with a wink.

—-

Steve's not too sure what to expect but when Clint says, "never had I ever owned a cat." And Tony, Natasha and Bruce all put a finger down, he relaxes. Nothing too major.

"No cats for Cap?" Natasha asks him with a raised eyebrow.

"Allergic. Then ice. Then here." Steve wrinkles his nose, "Bucky always wanted a cat. He talked about getting one when we came home from war. Then he died." Steve sighs, almost tired from the words that he'd said without his permission.

Natasha winces, "okay, I'm sorry, that was my fault. I shouldn't have asked you a question." She looks truly apologetic, "it won't happen again."

He nods and then Clint points to Bruce whose turn it is. Bruce smiles and looks directly at Tony. "I've never had more than 100 thousand dollars in my bank account."

Tony rolls his eyes but Steve blinks, slowly gesturing for his holographic hands to lower a finger. His hands and Tony's flash with the movement and they all turn to stare at him in shock. "Steve?" Clint starts, and he can see Natasha's about to shush him but the question comes out anyways, "you've got money?"

"I held a few stocks in the 1940's. Gifts from Bucky's family and a few from my mom." He grits his teeth, trying to keep the words from spilling but it's no use, "back pay. From the army. And Howard and Peggy apparently had a fund in my name that they hoped would go to any family relatives I had. The Barnes refused to touch it even though they were listed as my next of kin. Howard had it in a high accrual account. Now I have it."

They're staring at him with wide eyes. Tony leans forward, "just how much money do you have, Cap?"

"17 million." He chokes out, "spread over 4 different accounts." Then he looks up, almost feeling guilty for having so much, "I want to donate to charities and start some of my own foundations to help the city but I don't know how."

Another round of silence. Then Tony blinks and he leans forward, "you need finance help? I got you. I've got loads of foundations. I've financial gurus out the wazoo. We'll set something up. Captain America sharing his wealth, that's great press—"

"No—" Steve cuts in, "I don't want it under my name."

"Okay," Tony accepts that immediately, "no problem. We can do it anonymously."

"Damn." Clint huffs, "Cap's got Benjamins."

Steve furrows his brow, "huh?"

"Money." Natasha says with a glare to Clint, "it just means you have a lot of money. Because Ben Franklin is on the 100 dollar bill."

"Oh."

"My turn." Tony cuts in, then he glares at the ceiling as if thinking. "Never have I ever—" then he grins "—been homeless."

Bruce and Clint groan and roll their eyes as they gesture for fingers to be put down. But Steve swallows hard and gestures for his finger to go down as well. They don't notice at first. They're too busy gripping, but when Tony gestures for it to be his turn, he pauses. And the pause makes them all look. "Cap?" Tony asks, "you've been homeless?"

"Yes." He sighs, "right after my mom died." He grips the armrests of his chair.

Natasha is furrowing her brow, "why didn't you live with the Barneses?"

"They had five kids." Steve answers, "they didn't need another mouth to feed. Let alone a sickly one." His jaw tightens, "I thought we agreed no questions."

The silence pervades the room and they all sit back in their chairs.

Steve stands, "I don't want to play anymore—"

"No—" Clint starts.

"Steve," Natasha cuts in, "no, don't quit. Yes, we're learning about you, but you're learning about us too, right? They were homeless at one point." She points to the two, "Right?"

"Totally," Clint starts, "me and my older brother were homeless, and then we joined the circus and then we learned how to be assassins by this really creepy—"

"He gets it." Natasha cuts in. "See? This is mutual learning. We're just surprised. You're a very private person so this is all new to us. We're just…" she takes a deep breath and acts like she's exuding calm, "learning. No more questions." She points to him, "it's your turn."

Steve wrinkles his nose and thinks. "Never have I ever…" he pauses, trying to think of something that will get all three of them, "ridden a skateboard."

They all blink, and Bruce's mouth pops open, "damn." All of their hands lose a finger and Steve points to Natasha, "your turn."

She tucks her feet up on the chair and thinks, "never have I ever…" she grins, "been able to lift a tank."

Steve huffs out a laugh and puts a finger down. As does Bruce and there's a brief argument about whether it's the Iron Man suit doing the heavy lifting, but in the end Tony puts a finger down.

The next round goes smoothly. Simple things about what they did in their childhood years and job assignments. 'Never have I ever been stung by an eel', makes all of them laugh and point at Clint who rolls his eyes and outs down a finger.

Then Natasha throws out a 'never have I ever been hit with truth serum', and Steve glares at her but the group just laughs and Steve puts a finger down.

Then, as they realize they're going to have to start getting more specific if they want to win, because the level of stuff they've all experienced is so high. So Clint tilts his head in thought and then nods, "never have I ever met Howard Stark."

Tony scoffs as he and Steve put a finger down. Clint's grinning as he gestures for Bruce. "Never have I ever…" he grins at the group, "met Peggy Carter."

Natasha sighs as well and she, Tony, Clint, and Steve put a finger down. "That's a low blow, Banner." Clint huffs.

"Tony's turn." Bruce says with a grin. Tony looks around, Steve has three fingers left, he and Clint only have two. Bruce has three, and Natasha has four. So he narrows his eyes at her and then smirks, "never have I ever been sexualized by a boss."

Steve feels his throat tighten, Natasha's glaring at Tony and flipping him off as she gestures for a finger to go down. "Let's not forget one of those bosses was you." She wrinkles her nose, making a face, "Natalie."

Tony laughs, and turns to Steve, "your—" his voice changes, "Steve?"

He hears them call his name. But he's fighting to stay still and quiet so hard. Even though it's not verbal, the urge to tell the truth by putting a finger down is so strong, like a compulsion. "Steve?" Natasha is saying, a hand appears on his shoulder and breaks his focus. His fingers wave, making the motion to put a finger down and the tightness of his muscles feel like they're going to snap.

He hangs his head, feeling exhausted at trying to hold back the serum's effect.

"Um—" he hears Clint say, "what?"

Natasha's kneeling in front of him, "Steve—" but he knows what's going to happen. They're going to ask.

"No." He shouts, standing up and pushing the chair back, "no, you promised! No more questions."

Bruce is standing, "but—"

"No!" He's stepping back, 'I don't want to talk about this!"

"Now?" Natasha throws in as he's walking backwards away from them, "or back then?"

"Back then—" he grits out, before shoving through the door and disappearing.

—

Tony waves the holographic hands away. The game forgotten.

Clint is standing, "Back then when he was 19? Or when he was fucking 17?"

Bruce's neck is green, "does it matter?"

Tony looks at Natasha who is still kneeling in front of Steve's chair, her eyes far away. Then she sighs and turns to them, "and things were going so well."

"I said sexualized." Tony says quietly. "I didn't say assaulted. Maybe it's not that bad?"

Bruce stabs a finger at the door, "oh yeah? Then why did he run out of here like a bat out of hell?"

Mr. Stark.

Jarvis' voice cuts through the room.

Tony sucks in a breath and sighs, "Yeah, J?"

The toxin percentage is and there's the strangest briefest pause before Jarvis says higher.

"WHAT!" Three voices say.

"Higher?" Tony chokes out, "how?"

It seems to be attaching to the serum and multiplying at the same rate.

"Oh shhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittt." Clint sighs out, "what do we do?"

An antitoxin is recommended.

Tony looks at Bruce, "you down for a late lab night?"

Bruce nods and they disappear.

Natasha looks at Clint. "You down for hunting a super soldier?"

Clint sighs, "count me in."

—

Steve's back to floating in the pool. Jarvis had informed him of the development and he'd wanted to throw up.

He's not even sure if he can throw up. But he wants to.

Jarvis has soft music playing, presumably to calm him as he floats on the water with his eyes closed.

Then he feels a shift in the air pressure and he sighs.

Busted.

The water ripples and he looks to see Natasha and Clint sitting on the edge of the pool, feet in the water.

"Do you like swimming?" Clint asks.

"Yes." Steve answers, "I do."

"Did Jarvis tell you?"

He closes his eyes, "yes."

"You feel any different?"

"Just like I can't trust my body. I can't control it. If you ask me something, I'm compelled to tell the truth. Even if that means with my actions."

"That's why you put a finger down." Clint guesses, "instead of hiding."

Steve nods, "yes."

Natasha's mouth pulls to the side, then she's speaking in a soft voice. "You know my history with the Red Room. You know how awful that was." Steve's listening very carefully, "and when I got out of there." She nudges Clint, "when Clint got me out, I thought I was done with that. Free of their hands and their stares and the oppressive weight of men thinking they owned me."

Steve's watching her hand as it trails in the water, "then there was this bastard named Todd." She grimaces and Clint's face grows pinched. "He thought a brand new red Room recruit would be good for more than just one thing. Used his power of authority over me. Told me I was learning Shield's tactics for seduction."

Steve feels his eyes widen, "what?"

She nods, "yep. That went on for like a few weeks until he wasn 't satisfied with just the 'tests'." Her face grows wry, "and that's when he tried to shove me into an unused and un-surveillanced interrogation bay."

Steve feels rage, hot anger at a man he's never met. "But he forgot who the hell I was. Maybe I'd been gullible so far. But he'd made a miscalculation. So two broken arms, a concussion, and cracked hip later, he was on his way to a hospital and then prison. And I was explaining to Fury what had happened." Natasha shrugs. "Now every time it's happened it's been on my terms." She points at the ceiling, "Tony was a pawn in one of Fury's schemes when I worked for him." She grimaces.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you." Steve says quietly, the warmth and moisture in the air muting his voice. "That shouldn't have happened."

"And neither should whatever has happened to you." She holds up a hand, "all of it. You didn't deserve that."

"Thanks." He whispers back.

"Steve?" Her voice makes him look back up, "don't be mad."

He's about to ask 'about what' when she speaks again, "how old were you?"

"Eighteen." He responds, then he frowns, "don't."

"Who was it?"

"General Drammond." He sucks in a breath, "this isn't fair—"

She turns to Clint. "Look him up." But Clint just tips his head back, "Jarvis?"

There's a pause and then Steve is covering his face.

Born in 1898, General Gregory Drammond was a French General. During the German Occupation, he worked with the Allied Forces. He was born and resided in France for most of his life. Cause of death was disputed. The French forces claiming 'friendly fire' and American forces claiming 'an op gone wrong' on August 12, 1943.

They gape up at him. He grimaces, don't ask. Don't ask.

"Good for you." Clint says. "Bastard."

But Natasha is shaking her head, "you didn't kill him, did you?"

"No." Steve says with a rasp, "Dugan did."

Clint chokes, "Timothy Dugan? Legendary Dum-Dum Dugan?"

Natasha's voice is very level. And Steve can't seem to find the ability to leave, like he's trapped in the pool of honesty, "And why did Dugan kill him?"

Steve feels his chest pounding, lungs aching without being able to suck in enough air. "It was like with you—" he looks at Natasha, "I was fresh into the army, didn't know protocols or what was normal. It started early on, right after the rescue after Azzano." He swallows and feels the rest of the words form without his permission. "He always talked about how French were so tactile, so affectionate. Like he used that as an excuse to be touchy with me." He shakes his head, and sucks in a shaky breath, "it never went too far. He was too smart for that, And I was too stupid to realize it was all a lie just to—" he cuts off, then his mouth forces him to continue, "Then Dugan started noticing his attention. I didn't even notice that he was noticing. I just knew I got the creeps whenever that guy was around."

"And…?" Natasha prompts.

"Then, whenever we were at the same camp, he would find a way to be in my tent." He sighs, "random inspections or meetings about potential upcoming missions. He would just try to get me alone, all the time. Then…" he sighs, "he woke me up in the middle of the night, told me there was an emergency transmission and he needed my help." Steve frowns, "I thought it was strange that he led me to his personal tent, instead of the command tent." Clint's clutching the edge of the pool really hard, "and then he turns on me, tugging at my nightshirt and pants." Steve's face goes pinched, "I was so confused and still sleepy, I pushed him away but he was so insistent and then Dugan was barging into the tent, ripping him off me." His throat feels so dry, the salt from the pool water making him thirsty, "and then the General starts spewing lies that I had come after him, and had assaulted him."

Natasha's eyes are wide as he continues, "and he threatened to get me sent back to America because who would believe the word of a 'disgusting showgirl' over a General."

"That rat bastard!" Clint snaps.

Steve huffs out a humorless laugh, "Dugan was spitting mad, and he punched the guy, which was bad because then the General was claiming Dugan was insubordinate and violent and that could get him dishonorably discharged." Steve rubs at his eyes, "so we hightailed it out of there and tried to contact Colonel Philips. But we couldn't get a hold of him. And the next morning the General was sporting a massive black eye and was telling the story that we'd assaulted him for disagreeing on a mission brief." He closes his eyes, remembering the terror and shame he felt, "they finally got ahold of Phillips who didn't know what to do, because he didn't believe the general's story, but publicly sporting the fact that a French General had tried something with Captain America would be really bad for the press." He scrubs down his face, "so they covered it. Buried it deep. But then the commandos go on a covert mission. And suddenly he's there." Steve feels the nausea in his stomach, "I told Dugan to leave it alone. But then the General found out we were in the same camp and came into my tent. He was gloating. Bragging. I didn't know it at the time but Dugan had been following him, listening. Drammond threatened to lie and say I tried to force myself on him, to make it clear who was in charge. I didn't say or do anything. Just stood there and listened, intent on not reacting until he left my tent. But… when he was killed in that op…" he pauses, taking a deep breath, "I just knew. The shot right through the mouth. The entry wound clearly on the back of his head."

He points to Clint, "You're an excellent shot. But Dugan must have prayed to Apollo that day because the conditions were shit, but his aim was perfect." His eyes blink slowly, "Dugan was stone faced for days. I begged him to tell me if it had been him. He never did. But I knew. I always knew." Then he feels the most sick at his next words, "And I was grateful. When we had to report what happened, Colonel Phillips looked like he knew too, his eyes never even glanced at Dugan. Avoided speaking to him completely, which was unusual because they got along pretty well before that. But it meant he took our side, didn't give into the demands to have the death evaluated. And that was that."

"Geez." Clint breathes out, "I always thought Dugan was cool. Now he's a freaking beast."

"You shouldn't be happy he killed a man." Steve grits out.

"Why not?" Clint responds, "he deserved it."

"It's still wrong—"

"Maybe." Natasha jumps in, "maybe. But it's understandable. If Dugan hadn't done what he had? Who knows what that man would have done. He sounded like he was intent on being a menace. Those people don't stop. Dugan," she smiles, "he was being protective of you. Like an older brother."

Clint tilts his head, "you said none of the commandos knew you were only 18?"

Steve nods, then pauses… "Well…" he looks up, realization crossing his face, "I mean. I never told them."

Natasha has a grin, "could Barnes have told them?"

Steve shrugs, "I don't know. They never acted like they knew."

Clint leans forward, "what would they have done differently? If they'd known?"

His thoughts whirl. "I don't know…" and it's the truth, they'd always treated him like family. Just like he had to them, "I don't know."

"I bet he knew." Clint says softly, "Some of the commandos were interviewed, you know?" He just a thumb up to the common room, "they talked about meeting Barnes first in that prison camp. How he'd told stories about you and him in those cells." He grins, "I bet they knew, never said a word. But they knew."

And Steve can't explain why that creates such a surging sense of relief.

—

Synthesizing.

"Thanks J, tell us when it's complete.

Yes, sir.

"Wonder if any of my dad's war journals write about that Drammond guy."

Bruce shrugs, "I dunno. Seems like it was kept pretty tight lipped."

"Pfft. My dad knew everything." He grins, "he was good at having his ear to the ground."

"What good would it do?"

Tony shrugs, "dunno, just curious."

"I'm just glad he died a violent death." Bruce states flatly.

And Tony is quietly reminded that the man in front of him deals with breathtaking anger management issues. The words are so chilling Tony has to fight off the urge to shiver. Instead he just nods, "no arguments there."

—

He wasn't sure what he expected after they knew that story. Something he'd kept so tightly to his chest that knowing they knew it felt like he was naked. Exposed.

But all through the day they just acted normal.

He'd always been embarrassed by that story. As if it was his fault or that he'd been too naive to handle himself, so Dugan had done it for him.

But they weren't acting that way. They were acting the same. Maybe…

He watches as Natasha throws coins at the microwave trying to get it to start.

"No," Clint corrects, "you have to flick harder, hit the popcorn button."

Natasha narrows her eyes and concentrates, flicking her wrist. The microwave beeps and turns on. She laughs and Clint high-fives her. "Good job."

—-

Tony finds Steve and points at him, "Phillips knew."

Steve's brow furrows, "knew what?"

"About Drammond. He filed a report against him in case he tried to retaliate later. Now, Drammond died before he even got a chance to cause more trouble. But Dugan must have reported all the details to him. It's a very heavily classified and very thorough dressing down of what a clown Drammond was."

Steve fels his chest constrict, "he knew?"

Tony nods, "yeah, and he was totally on your side. He makes it very clear that you were never out of line."

A sad smile crosses Steve's face, "Phillips was always such a gruff guy. He didn't want me for the program at first. But…" his head bobs up and down, "he was a good guy. Harsh… But good."

Tony's nodding, "yeah, I only got to meet him when I was real little, and I think he'd softened a bit by then. Had a ton of grandkids and some great grands even. Good guy."

"Yeah…" Steve says quietly, imagining what it would have been like to be able to see that happen. To witness Phillips' life. To have his own.

"You really wish my dad had found you right away, huh?"

"Yeah—" his voice is hoarse, "I really do."

"I'm sorry that he didn't. I know he was sorry about it too."

"Thanks." Steve responds quietly, "I appreciate it."

"If you had the chance…" Tony asks slowly, "would you still choose to go back?"

"Yes—" he bites out, "that's not a fair question." He huffs, "I'm not trying to hurt anyone's feelings. But I don't feel like I belong here."

"But you do—"

"You've made it pretty clear I dont, Tony." He glares at the ground, "all the old man jokes, the out of time jokes. You called me 'capsicle'."

Tony winces, "Okay, true, but to be fair I'm a jackass to everyone." He points to Steve, "you just happened to be a very sore subject." He gestures to the room, "my dad was obsessed with you, and I felt very second fiddle."

"If I'd been found then he wouldn't have treated you that way—"

"Ew." Tony waves his hands, "don't blame it on yourself. My dad chose to be a neglectful cynic on his own."

"But I was the catalyst. Not finding me drove him to be that way."

"Wow, you think very highly of yourself—"

"What! That's not what I meant—"

Tony laughs, "I'm just messing with you." Then he grimaces, "Which I'm going to stop doing. Right now."

"I don't mind being teased." Steve says, "just like to know I'm not actually hated."

"No one hates you Steve."

And that elicits a sad bark of laughter. "Uh, huh, sure."

Tony narrows his eyes, "and who is it who hates you?"

"Fury, you—"

"Fury hates everybody, and I just made it abundantly clear that I, in fact, do not hate you. Come on, no one hates you. Just like you don't hate anybody." Steve stays quiet, and tony has to ruin it by forming it into a question, "Right?"

"Wrong." Steve opens his mouth and looks at Tony sharply, "Don't—"

"Who?" Tony asks anyways, "who could you even hate?"

"General Ross." Steve tries to hold his teeth together, "Schmidt. Zola. Drammond. The Hank brothers. My dad."

He sucks in a shaky breath after. His body is so tense from trying not to speak.

Tony blinks… then he blinks again. Steve's standing, he grimaces at the fact that he's about to run away, again.

"Ross I get. Man's a menace. I get Schmidt, Zola, Drammond. Don't know who the Hank brothers are—"

"Racist bullies on my block."

"Okay." Tony says, and he grabs Steve's arm, "why do you hate your dad."

"He beat her." Then he doubles over, "and me."

Steve feels nauseous, like that, his final secret spilling out of him leaves him so glaringly empty. Like eating something too strong on a starving stomach.

"Oh…" is the barely whispered word of Tony's response. Tony's hand rests on Steve's shoulder, "I'm sorry. That's…" he sighs, "I remember a few times my dad was so drunk I thought he might get violent. He never did. But the stress of the thought. The possibility scared the shit outta me. It's not the same. I get that. But I'm sorry still the same."

"I hate him."

"Okay."

Steve looks up, surprise across his features, "what do you mean, 'okay'?"

Tony shrugs, "okay. You hate him. That's not a crime."

"I shouldn't hate anybody." Steve says it harshly, like he's reprimanding himself.

"I mean…" Tony says softly, "sure. In a perfect world we wouldn't hate anyone. But I hate a lot of people. And for a lot more petty reasons than yours." He huffs out a laugh, "I think you hating his guts makes sense."

"But Captain Ameri—"

"I swear if you're about to say some shit about what 'the world' expects of Captain America—" Tony taps Steve's head as if trying to knock sense into him, "Captain America is not a real person. Steve Rogers is. And shocker of all shockers, he's a human being. With emotions. Including the ability to hate."

"But—"

"But nothing! For the love of all things, Steve!" Tony snaps, "stop expecting yourself to have it all together! To shove every emotion down the drain so that you can pretend to be this perfect marble facade! Hell, not that it's your fault, but that's half the reason I hated you so much! Being perfect isn't real. Even if you're really fucking close."

Steve grimaces, "I'm not—"

"Oh ggeeeeeeeeeezzzz!" Tony growls, shoving his shoulder, "SHUT UP! And take the compliment! You're barely an adult and you've managed to show the rest of us up! That's a good thing! But—" Tony's voice grows soft and he taps at Steve's chin, getting his attention, "this truth serum may be a nightmare to you, but it's like I'm waking up to see who you actually are." He points to the hallway, "and them too. Now we get to actually get to know you. See the cracks in the marble and know they're because you've been through a lot and come out stronger."

"You don't…" Steve pauses, "think less of me?"

Tony's brow furrows, "think less?" He laughs, "what the hell are you talking about? I'm actually more impressed with you! And that pisses me off because I didn't even know that was possible."

Steve sags, leaning his head on the cold metal table, "I always thought if people knew the real me. The Steve Rogers me… I'd be as hated as I was back then. And kid of Irish immigrants who had nothing to offer society but a weak heart and some bloody fists."

"Dramatic." Tony says with a raised eyebrow, "and poetic."

"No one wants a shrimp who has asthma."

"First, it amuses me that word play gets you past the 'truth rule'." He laughs, "don't know many shrimps with asthma." He grins, "and secondly, you want to go back there?"

Steve winces, "it's different now."

"Why? Because you're big and strong and therefore more valuable?"

"Yes."

"Again, gross. Is Natasha less valuable because she's weaker and smaller than you?"

"No."

"Okay, then you're an idiot for thinking the same about yourself."

"Ouch."

"Oh, you're big and strong. You can take it."

"You're being mean."

"Oooh. Cry me a river." Steve laughs, and Tony grins at it, "there's a real laugh from our patriotic robot."

"Thought that was Rhodey."

Tony's eyes widen, "oh. Wow. Haha. That's a good one." He laughs and points at Steve, "now we just have one problem left."

Steve tilts his head, "what's that?"

"Now we have to get you to believe you belong here."

"I want to." Steve's throat rasps at the word. But they're true.

Tony grins, "good."

—-

Two Years Later

"It's just a game that humans play, Thor." Clint rolls his eyes, "It's not that complicated."

"Teach me!" Thor grins, "I want to learn."

"Okay, you hold up 10 fingers—" Thor does, and then Natasha points at him, "then someone will say, 'Never Have I Ever lifted Mjolnir." She grins, "and then you put a finger down. Because you have lifted Mjolnir."

Steve grins from where he's sitting. And without anyone noticing, he puts a finger down.

—