Author's note: To those who are reading both Marvel stories I am currently posting, you may want to read today's new chapter on "The Third Life of Steve Rogers" before you read this one, as a plot development regarding one of my OCs will make more sense if you know what happened back in 1991 before you find out what's happening here in 2012!

And as always, thanks to reviewers Nimrodel 101, Guest, LoverGurrl411, and all my other loyal readers!

Chapter 24

All his life Steve had enjoyed better birthday celebrations than many people got, even in the lean years when his mother had not been able to do anything beyond making the evening meal a little more special: there was always a parade, complete with marching bands and waving flags, and in the evening there were fireworks to light up the darkness. His mother had often joked that no matter what the midwife said about the baby coming "too soon," she had purposely chosen the Fourth of July to give birth as a way to show pride in her new homeland. And to further drive the point home, she'd given him the middle name of Grant, in honor of one of America's presidents.

But this year's celebration topped them all. The Fourth of July came only two months after the Battle of New York, and the Avengers were still the daily topic of discussion across the country... which meant an invitation had been extended to Steve Rogers and Tony Stark to be the grand marshals for the parade down Constitution Avenue in the nation's capitol. Director Fury had strongly encouraged Steve to take advantage of the good publicity being offered, and so it was that he found himself donning the new Captain America uniform in public for the first time and performing motorcycle stunts for the crowds lining the streets, while Iron Man flew overhead doing aerial maneuvers to the delight of everyone.

That wasn't the end of the festivities, either. He and Stark were then taken to the White House to meet President Matthew Ellis and a number of other dignitaries, where they were awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom and trotted out for the press before being served a meal in the East Room.

In many ways it was the welcome home Steve had missed out on, being asleep in the Arctic when everyone had taken to the streets to celebrate Germany's surrender as well as the subsequent victorious homecoming for the Allied soldiers, and he was grateful for the belated respect everyone showed him now. Even the president was gracious and deferential. He was only sorry that he and Stark were the only guests of honor when all six of the Avengers should have been there. Bruce Banner had not been invited, and it was easy to guess why. Thor was of course unreachable, while Fury had declined to let Romanoff and Barton appear, given that their jobs still depended on some measure of anonymity and discretion. The spotlight hadn't zeroed in on those two, anyway; fair or not, the more fantastical powers of the other four had drawn the lion's share of the public's attention.

Still, despite his deep gratitude for receiving all these honors, Steve was relieved when the last round of handshakes was over and he was whisked away from the VIPS and taken outside, where Agent Hill was waiting by an unmarked SUV to take him back to his apartment. It had been mentally exhausting to be in the intense glare of so much attention, and he was glad it was over. Stark, on the other hand, hadn't seemed to mind a bit; in fact, far from being nervous, he had seemed far too casual as he flitted from one official to the next at each event, talking a mile a minute, doing little to show dignity or tact even when talking to the president himself. He'd also visibly snubbed Senator Stern and called the Speaker of the House "Boss Tweed" to his face without a trace of embarrassment. Steve had been embarrassed enough for him, and he wondered what was going on; Stark had certainly been talkative and irreverent during their first adventure together, but he seemed different this time; his energy almost manic, his smiles and quips not fully convincing, with more acid than fun behind his eyes.

"Hey, Cap!"

Steve paused just as he was about to climb into the SUV, and turned around. Tony Stark was jogging down the steps from the Rose Garden, turning slightly to impatiently shoo away a small entourage that was attempting to follow him.

"Mr. Stark," Steve said politely as he approached.

"Okay, you gotta knock that off," Stark said. "Stop me if I'm wrong here, but I think saving the world together is one of those things that qualifies you to call someone by their first name. I'm pretty sure Emily Post said that. Or maybe it was Martha Stewart."

"You're probably right," Steve admitted.

Stark — or rather, Tony — scrutinized him for a moment. "Well, I've had just about enough fun for one day, how about you?" he said.

"Yeah," Steve agreed.

Tony inclined his head. "Come on, let's go get a drink. Or a cheeseburger. Maybe both." He took in a quick breath and let it out. "Definitely both." In the bright sunlight, now that he was up close, Steve could see that Tony had dark circles under his eyes that had been camouflaged with concealer, done so artfully that he wouldn't have spotted it if not for his enhanced vision.

Steve smiled a little. "Thank you. But Clint and Nat are waiting for me; I think they have some birthday celebration planned for me with some other people from S.H.I.E.L.D."

Tony looked momentarily taken aback. "Is it really your birthday? I thought that was just part of the Captain America propaganda package. What are you now, 91?"

"Twenty-eight," Steve corrected. "Listen, you're welcome to come. We can all catch up with each other. I'd like that." He hadn't had a moment today to talk to Tony one-on-one, as they'd been continually mobbed by people as they were whisked from one event to the next.

He thought Tony would probably refuse; whatever Clint and Nat had planned wasn't likely to be much like the high-society parties Tony must be used to, but to his surprise Tony said, "Where at?"

"My place. About 15 minutes from here."

Tony shoved on a pair of sunglasses. "Let's take my limo. I don't want to ride in some poky S.H.I.E.L.D. paddy wagon."

Steve went over to explain to Agent Hill, and then he and Tony strode over to the dark limousine parked some distance away. It was close to the rope that cordoned off this secured area, and a cluster of photographers hanging around saw the two of them coming and instantly sprang into action, cameras whirring and snapping away. A stocky curly-haired man standing by the limo opened the back door. "Happy Hogan, my head of security," Tony quickly explained as he gestured for Steve to get in first.

The back seat wasn't empty. Halfway in the act of sitting down, Steve realized there was a woman sitting across from him, dressed in an elegant silk blouse and skirt and high heels. She had long auburn hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Steve looked at her in mild surprise.

"Hi," he said.

She smiled widely, and he saw that she had very even white teeth. "Hello, Steve Rogers."

Shoulders falling a little, Steve couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, and yet he really shouldn't have been surprised. Tony was like Howard in so many other ways, of course this would be the same, too. Of course Tony would have the "flavor of the week" waiting for him in the limo. Steve clenched his teeth slightly even as he smiled at her politely, bracing himself for the awkwardness that was about to ensue during the ride to his apartment. He would have to watch them cuddle and coo at each other, knowing full well that in a matter of weeks or even days Tony would toss her a diamond bracelet or whatever peace offering he had devised to help him get rid of the women he tired of, and then she'd be shown the door by Tony's handlers, politely but oh-so-firmly.

The woman held out her hand toward him in a graceful gesture. "I'm Pepper Potts."

A second, more powerful wave of surprise hit Steve as he recognized the name, and instantly he was ashamed of himself for coming to a totally wrong conclusion.

"You're the CEO of Stark Industries," he said, taking her hand and shaking it. "I read about your press conference in the paper yesterday; they said your company's stock is going back up."

She nodded, smiling in pleasure at the recognition. "Yes, I think we've finally convinced the investors that Tony Stark can do more than just build weapons," she said. She had a pleasant speaking voice, low but clear. "What happened in New York this spring helped with that, as unfortunate as it all was. I guess there's a silver lining to every cloud."

Steve glanced at the open door of the limo and realized Tony wasn't getting in to join them. He had stopped on the sidewalk and was facing the crowd of journalists, swapping quips with one of them. The camera flashes going off in his face made it look like a lightning storm had just arrived. Steve looked back over at Miss Potts, suddenly uncertain.

"Should I go back out there, to help-?" he started, concerned, but she quickly shook her head. "Only if you want to," she said. "Tony has no trouble holding the spotlight all by himself, believe me." She laughed wryly. "By the way, did he behave well in there? For Tony, I mean."

"Uh..." Steve said, knowing in a flash that he couldn't lie, but not exactly wanting to be a tattle-tale, either.

Miss Potts briefly looked up, as if appealing to heaven for help, and lifted up a hand to forfend him. "Say no more."

"I don't know him well enough to know how he usually is, Miss Potts," he said quickly.

"Oh, don't call me Miss Potts," she urged him. "The only person who ever called me that was my high school principal. Pepper is fine."

Tony got into the backseat finally, and Mr. Hogan shut the door and then got into the passenger seat. Tony pressed the intercom button and said, "We're going to Roger's place." He glanced at Steve. "What's the address?"

Feeling a little awkward, unsure of how to talk to a servant, Steve leaned toward the intercom and gave his address.

"Get that, Harrison?" Tony asked, and through the tinted window separating them from the front seat, the driver turned and nodded briefly. "Yes, sir."

The limo started to move. Tony flipped open a panel and pulled out a crystal decanter and a couple of glasses. "Steve? Want a drink?"

"No, thank you."

Tony grimaced at him. "Tee-totaler, huh? Why does that not surprise me?"

"It's not that," Steve said. "It just doesn't do anything for me, not since the experiment. No point in wasting it on me."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Boy, talk about an unfortunate malady. And here I was, thinking you were perfect. Pepper?"

She gave him a knowing look. "Where are we going?"

"Steve's place. Birthday party. Should be a real kick in the pants."

"Then no," Pepper said firmly. "I'm not having a drink and neither are you. You're going to a party, Tony. You don't drink on the way there, you drink when you get there. In moderation."

Tony set the decanter back down, although he seemed reluctant. "You know me, I'm always moderate."

Pepper snorted. "Don't make me laugh."

"You would want to drink too, if you had just been subjected to three hours in the company of someone as charmingly slimy as old 'Thunderbolt' Ross," Tony said.

Pepper made a disgusted face. "Was he after Bruce?"

"That greasy little Napoleon wannabe tried to get anything and everything he could get out of me about Bruce."

"Please don't tell me you called him that to his face."

"Nope." Tony loosened his tie and settled back in his seat. "I called him 'a tin-pot dictator with delusions of grandeur.'"

Pepper glared at him. "Well, that's fantastic. Another PR mess for me to clean up. Thank you, Tony. I really appreciate that."

"Ross had you cornered for a really long time," Tony said to Steve, ignoring Pepper. "Was he trying to get you to stab Bruce in the back, too?"

"A little," Steve admitted. "But mostly he was trying to get me to quit S.H.I.E.L.D. and come back to the Army."

"Oh yeah? What'd he offer you?" Tony asked.

"Everything," Steve said. "Plus the kitchen sink."

"Tempted?"

Steve shook his head. "Knowing what Ross did to Bruce... no. Not really." He sighed deeply.

"You miss the Army?" Pepper asked curiously.

He took a moment to respond. "I miss the people I knew in the Army."

"Oh!" Pepper said, her face suddenly brightening. "Speaking of which... I read Peggy Carter's memoirs when I became CEO — it's practically required reading for any woman who finds herself in a job like mine, or aspires to be — and she spoke very highly of you."

Steve managed to not quite freeze at the mention of her name — he was getting better at that — and instantly went into an internal tug-of-war as to whether he should change the subject as quickly as possible, or let Pepper keep talking. He was hungry to hear about Peggy, but he was also afraid to. After an even longer pause, Steve finally managed to say in a mostly even voice: "I thought highly of her, too."

"Who on earth-" Tony muttered, looking down at his phone as he tapped at it, and speaking distractedly, "-is Peggy Carter?"

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Tony, you have to know who Peggy Carter is. You probably met her at some point. She worked with your dad on Project Rebirth, and she was director of S.H.I.E.L.D., too. Ten to one your dad had her over to the house at some point. Don't you remember meeting her?"

"Any part of Dad's job that didn't involve building things bored me to tears," Tony said frankly, still not looking up from his phone. "He always had people over. I couldn't be bothered with it."

Steve had to tamp down a rush of disappointment. He wasn't at a place yet where he felt he could call Peggy, although with the way his name got plastered all over the news after the Battle of New York, she certainly knew by now that he was back. He thought about it more and more often these days, and maybe someday soon he would be able to face that... but until he could talk to her himself, the next best thing would have been to talk to someone who had known her. He was sorry Tony didn't remember.

"Have you had a chance to catch up with her yet?" Pepper asked Steve.

Steve shook his head.

"I bet she would love to hear from you," Pepper said warmly. "She's retired now, isn't she? I think I read that she had gone back home to England."

Steve nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Something interesting about her memoirs-" Pepper started.

"She was British?" Tony asked abruptly, looking up from his phone at last.

Pepper looked annoyed at the interruption, but she answered readily, "The SSR took in personnel from all the Allied countries, Tony. She was trained by MI6, and she was the one who recruited Dr. Erskine and got him over the German border. The Army was lucky to get her to oversee operations for their project, although those idiots actually gave her a hard time. At first Colonel Phillips treated her like she was a secreta-"

"Yeah, but she was British?" Tony persisted. "With the accent and all?"

Pepper looked to Steve.

"Yeah," Steve said slowly, wondering why it mattered.

"The posh kind? Queen's English?"

"Yeah."

"So you did meet her!" Pepper said to Tony.

As abruptly as he had perked up, Tony shut down again, looking out the window and turning his whole body slightly away from them both, a frown pulling down the corner of his mouth.

"No. I never met her," he said shortly.

"As I was saying," Pepper said, turning back toward Steve, "it was actually Peggy Carter's daughter-in-law who co-wrote her memoirs, and they did something really interesting with the format. I've never seen memoirs published in a three-ring binder before. I wonder why-"

Pepper suddenly broke off, and a wild look came into her eyes. Pressing her mouth into a tight line, she jabbed a button with one finger and the window next to her rolled down, letting in the noise of the D.C. traffic. Then she reached over, tore the decanter out of Tony's hands just as he was about to tip it into a glass, and hurled it out of the window, where it dashed into pieces against the pavement as the limo zipped down the road.

"Are you kidding me?!" she shouted at Tony.

"Are you crazy?!" he snapped back at the same time.

"How many times do I have to-" Pepper burst out.

"That was Waterford crystal-"

"-say that you don't drink on the way to a party-"

"-it cost me almost a thousand for the set-"

"That's pocket change for you, Tony!"

"I liked it!"

"It was hideous, it looked like it came from a thrift shop!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do with this now?" Tony demanded, waving his empty glass meaningfully. "You broke up the set!"

"I don't care, stick a flower in it and call it a va-"

Tony chucked it out the open window.

"Oh, grow up!" Pepper said scathingly.

"You started it." He grabbed a second glass and threw it out too.

"Knock it off, you're littering-"

"It isn't littering if-"

"-and you're going to get us arrested, Tony!"

"-America's most heroic hero says it isn't!"

"Don't quote your own PR at me, there isn't enough room in this limo for that much hot air!" Pepper snapped.

"Whatever." Tony suddenly folded his arms and tipped his head back against the plush seat, eyes closing as if he were going to sleep.

Pepper sighed loudly, and then happened to catch Steve's eye.

"Oh, don't worry," she said reassuringly, seeing his expression. "We do this all the time."

When she stepped out of her apartment onto the landing, the first thing Sharon Carter saw was Steve Rogers coming up the stairs toward her, side by side with Natasha Romanoff. He didn't notice Sharon right away because he was intent on listening to whatever it was Romanoff was saying. He was still wearing his uniform from the parade earlier today, a new design with a S.H.I.E.L.D. patch on the shoulder. It was navy blue with a couple of white stripes going horizontally across the chest, along with the signature star in the center. His shield was strapped to his back.

Sharon liked the new uniform — it managed to convey the message that here was a man who meant business, while also setting him apart from the all-black that most S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives wore in the field — but she was surprised to feel a pulse of disappointment that he was wearing it. Their little game of pretending she didn't know who he was would be over now.

"-three if you count Eisenhower, but he wasn't president yet when I met him," Rogers was saying to Romanoff as they reached the landing, and then they both spotted Sharon.

"Kate," Rogers said, eyes lighting up as he spotted her. "Hi. I want you to meet my friend, Natasha. Nat, this is Kate, my neighbor."

"Hi there," Romanoff said, nodding to Sharon with no hint whatsoever of recognition. "Nice to meet you." She jerked her thumb at Rogers. "We're not actually friends, by the way," she added in a conspiratorial voice. "We just work together."

"Hey!" Rogers complained, looking wounded. Romanoff made a face at him.

"So, you work together?" Sharon said, putting a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "Wait, don't tell me where. Let me guess." Her eyes swept up and down his uniform, and she was delighted to see his face fall a little bit as she did so. So he didn't want to the game to end, either!

"I know!" Sharon said, brightening. "You're a Captain America impersonator, right?"

That got a smile out of him, the best one she'd gotten yet. Romanoff had a small smile on her face, too, looking back and forth between Sharon and Rogers with a curious expression. Behind them, a small group of men were coming up the stairs toward them.

"I just moonlight on the weekends," Rogers said. "What do you think? How am I doing?" He spread his arms a little to show off the uniform, managing to look both self-conscious and hopeful at the same time.

Sharon looked him over again. "It's pretty convincing," she admitted, just as the men reached the top of the stairs and joined them on the landing. She recognized Brock Rumlow among them, along with other members of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team, and quickly she made a mental note of their names and faces.

"I don't know," Rumlow said, breaking into the conversation and drawling out his words for emphasis. "If you ask me, he shouldn't quit his day job." He squeezed Rogers' shoulders from behind in a rough, friendly kind of way, earning a smile from Rogers.

"Here, Steve, hand me your keys," Romanoff said. Rogers handed them over, and Romanoff opened his door and let into his apartment the steadily growing crowd of people arriving on the landing. Several more S.T.R.I.K.E. guys had just showed up, and Sharon made note of their names, too, as they filed in.

"Clint's up on the roof. I'm going to go help him set up," Romanoff said, handing Rogers his keys back and then disappearing up the stairs.

"Some kind of party?" Sharon asked, nodding toward all the people.

"Yeah," Rogers said, looking a little embarrassed. "It's... my birthday."

"No kidding," Sharon said, feigning surprise. "Well, happy birthday!"

"Thanks." He hesitated for a moment and then said, "You're, uh, you're welcome to join us. There's going to be food, and then we're going to watch the fireworks from the rooftop."

"Oh, thank you, but I already have plans," Sharon said politely, although she couldn't deny feeling a sudden stab of regret that she couldn't accept Rogers' invitation. Fury had specified that she should limit her contact to casual encounters, and as fun as it would be to attend a party with Captain America, there was zero chance she could get away with it without Fury finding out, considering the place was packed with S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives. She'd have to keep an eye on things from a distance tonight, listening to the audio from the bugs in his apartment and watching through the camera in her peephole to see who went in and out. Fury had emphasized the need to know who was getting close to Rogers, and a social event like this was the perfect opportunity.

Sharon glanced down to see a couple coming up the stairs: a woman with auburn hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and a man in a sharp suit and sunglasses. He took off his sunglasses and his face was instantly recognizable: Tony Stark.

Sharon stared at him openly — after all, that's what a nobody nurse in Washington, D.C. would do if she spotted the world's most famous playboy unexpectedly arriving on her doorstep — and Stark grinned broadly at her, seemingly anticipating the girlish squeals and requests for selfies that he probably figured was coming.

She squinted her eyes, scrutinizing Stark for a long moment. Finally, she shook her head and glanced back over at Rogers. "I think you've got your gig down, Steve, but honestly? His Iron Man impression needs some work," she told him, and was rewarded by another full-watt smile from Rogers.

"Feisty," Stark said.

He and his companion went on into Rogers' apartment, and they were followed by two men in dark suits. They weren't wearing earpieces, at least not that she could see, but Sharon instantly tagged them as security. One was stocky and curly-haired, while the other was tall and broad-shouldered and...

Sharon froze as their eyes met. Her cousin Harrison! She knew that he worked security at Stark Tower, but she hadn't realized exactly what that entailed. Quickly, she looked away, feigning disinterest, but she lingered on the landing, pulling out her phone and pretending to check a notification as an excuse to stick around.

Everyone disappeared into Rogers' apartment except Harrison, who carefully inspected the window to see if it was locked. He didn't make eye contact with Sharon again, but she knew he knew she was there.

Keeping her head down pretending to text someone, she whispered: "What are you doing here?"

"Guarding Tony Stark's body, among other things," Harrison said softly, keeping his eyes on the window. "What are you doing?"

"Guarding Steve Rogers' body. Among other things."

They briefly made eye contact, and suddenly they both grinned at each other. Just then, the curly-haired man poked his head back through the door, and Harrison straightened up and turned his back on Sharon.

"Hallway secure, Mr. Hogan," he told the other man in a crisp voice.

Hogan nodded. "Why don't you go up and secure the roof. They'll be going up there soon. I'll stay here with Mr. Stark."

"Yes, sir."

Hogan disappeared back into Rogers' apartment and shut the door. The two of them were left alone again.

"How's Christina?" Sharon asked conversationally.

Harrison shoved one fist into his pocket, leaning back against the wall casually. "Sick of being pregnant."

Sharon was taken aback. "She's pregnant?" She hadn't seen Christina since Christmas, but she hadn't had any idea that was the case.

Harrison smiled knowingly. "Yeah, I know how you feel. This one surprised us, too."

"How many weeks?" Sharon asked.

"Thirty-eight."

"Brave man, to leave New York at a time like this," Sharon observed.

He shrugged. "Duty called. I made her solemnly swear not to go into labor today, so..." He winked reassuringly.

"Boy or girl?"

"A boy, they say," Harrison said, and then added wryly: "But I've heard that before, and look what happened."

Sharon smiled widely. "You two make pretty cute girls."

"I guess I could stand one more around the house." He grinned openly, laugh lines creasing around his eyes.

"I better not keep you from your work," Sharon said reluctantly, although she wished they could chat longer. Harrison had always been easy to talk to, and the similarities of their professions gave them plenty to talk about. She'd wondered sometimes why he hadn't followed in his grandmother's and father's footsteps and joined S.H.I.E.L.D. himself, but she figured he had wanted to make his own mark on the world in his own way, and working for Tony Stark was certainly nothing to sneeze at.

Harrison nodded, growing more serious. "I'll watch your man up on the roof tonight if you watch mine when he's down here," he said softly.

"Deal," Sharon agreed in a murmur, adding, "although I don't know who would be dumb enough to attack a party attended by four Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s STRIKE team."

She spoke lightly, intending it as a joke, but Harrison frowned in response.

"Eyes up, Sharon," he said softly but seriously. "Stay sharp. Especially here."

He headed up to the roof, taking the stairs two at a time, and Sharon went back into her apartment and quietly closed the door. Safely inside, she quickly texted the list of party attendees to Maria Hill, waiting long enough to get an acknowledgement before she settled into a chair to watch the peephole camera.

She knew she could trust her cousin to keep an eye on things up on the roof, yet she wished that she could be up there herself. Rightly or wrongly, she often thought that thanks to all the time she'd spent watching Rogers in New York — when he had been fighting the biggest but loneliest battle of his life — in a way she knew him better than anyone else did. It would have been nice to get to know him face to face, without artifice or limitation.

Oh, well. She had gotten two good smiles out of Rogers today, and she'd have to be content with that.

TO BE CONTINUED

Author's note: Someone asked me a few chapters back for more Tony Stark, so I hope you liked it! Also, I don't know why, but I get such a kick out of writing "first meetings" for characters we never got to see meet, like Steve and Pepper. Finally, if you're curious about Harrison Carter and haven't read my story "The Third Life of Steve Rogers," you may want to give it a try.

Leave a review and let me know what you thought!