"I'm just saying- we don't need some one-armed scrapyard terrorist with a superhero-complex around here," Harper huffed as she threw a pillow towards the bed, only narrowly missing your head. You chuckled at your sister's comment as you straightened the sheets, not quite sure how you felt about the three men having a hushed conversation in your father's office downstairs. You doubted your father would do anything to endanger you and your family, but taking in the primary suspect of the bombing of the Vienna International Centre was certainly not what you had expected. The footage of the showdown between the Avengers at the airport in Germany had leaked a couple of months ago and had shocked the world. But you hadn't been nearly as shaken until your father sat you and your sister down this afternoon to announce that the most-sought after man in the world would be staying with you and your family for a while.

"You shouldn't call him that you know- he might be innocent," you offered as you looked around your brother's room. Harper shrugged her shoulders at you as she collected the final box of Carter's clothes and slid them on top of the wardrobe. Your brother Carter had left for the army three months ago and hadn't bothered to clean his room before leaving. Then again, no one in your family had expected to be needing his room in the first place. Your lips formed into a small smile as you imagined the Winter Soldier, a highly trained brainwashed assassin, having to sleep underneath you brother's faded Star Wars sheets, surrounded by all of the sci-fi memorabilia which decorated the walls.

Suddenly, you heard the sound of your father's creaky office door opening downstairs, followed by muffled voices which continued a hushed conversation as they disappeared int the kitchen. You locked eyes with Harper and barely managed to take one step towards the door before she pushed you aside like a well-seasoned rugby player and rushed out of the room. Sadly, the thunderous sound of you and your sister charging down the stairs like an elephant stampede did not go unnoticed. Because at the end of the hallway, blocking the entrance to the kitchen, stood your mother. Even though you had celebrated your 27th birthday only last week, and your mother's scowl was usually only meant for Harper's nightly escapades when she went drinking with the other rebellious teenagers of Lewistown, you felt as affected as you had when you had broken into your father's liquor cabinet with nothing but a hairpin and some tweezers at the young age of sixteen.

"Upstairs- both of you," your mother's voice demanded in the weighty reserved way only mothers can speak. You grinned at Harper's scowl who, despite having called your family's new guest a scrapyard terrorist, still seemed very interested at sneaking a peak of the Winter Soldier and Captain America who had accompanied him. Like you, your mother seemed somewhat amused, but was clearly attempting to hide it as she hadn't had to be a strict mother ever since you had become an adult. Your younger sister had been somewhat of a surprise and had forced your parents back on the track of pretending they were responsible role models and pretended not to smoke cheeky cigarettes outside when you were asleep.

"I'll bring up some tea in a moment," your mother smiled, clearly not enjoying the strict tone she had taken. You nodded, thanked her and laced your fingers around your sister's arm, dragging her back up the stairs. Whereas your face was flooded with disappointed, you detected mischief in your sister's eyes, knowing she would find a way to spot the soldier before morning. But before you and Harper had even made it up the stairs, your all-seeing omnipotent mother added a curt "-and don't even think about disturbing him."

After you and Harper had both gone your ways and settled into your rooms, you changed into your pyjamas, took your pill, cleaned your face and tried in vain to read a book finding yourself incapable of processing the words on the page. In the end you settled for staring at the wall, waiting for sleep to come. Your room was small and hadn't been painted since you were young. You had skilfully covered the childish wallpaper with countless posters, polaroid's and pictures. Your desk was covered with blueprints and maps of your latest projects. Whereas most of your peers had moved out of their parent's houses, you found yourself still living at home- preparing to take over the family business. Within the next five years, your parents would move out and retire themselves to a life of peace and quiet.

An hour later, sleep had still eluded you as were staring at the slanted ceiling, counting the veins in the wood when suddenly— you heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. You held your breath as you heard the footsteps stop in the hallway for a moment, followed by the creaking of Carter's bedroom door, which just so happened to be right next to yours. On the other side of the wall, only two feet away from you, you heard two thuds— probably shoes being dumped on the floor. Next, you heard the squeak of the bed's worn metal frame as a body significantly heavier than you brother's slumped down on it. The ½ inch drywall was the only thing separating his bed from yours and you found the idea of a darkhaired bulky stranger sleeping so close to you strangely numbing. The last sound you heard that night was a deep fatigued sigh.

Sleep did not come quickly as you spent many an hour wondering if your father's honour bound kindness would be the death of all of you. The sole reason why your father had accepted Captain Roger's request to hide the Winter Soldier, was because of the picture frame which rested in your father's office. In it, your grandfather, lieutenant Y/L/N, posed with his platoon. On his left stood a young soldier wearing a sergeant's insignia, a slanted army cap and a cheeky white-teethed smile on his clean-shaven jawline. You had studied the picture for a good long while before dinner, trying to recognize the face of the young charming soldier in the images from the blurry footage that had been released to the public. The footage was far too blurry to be able to recognize any of the features.

So, you had decided to trust in your grandfather's stories that had been passed down to your father. The final years of your grandfather's life had been spent in a haze, his brain suffering from forgetfulness and memory loss. From what your father had told, your grandfather had always considered the young bold sergeant with a fatherly kindness and respect. And your father had chosen to honour that relationship. Your father's instructions to keep the soldier's residency in your home a secret had been crystal clear.

Finally, with the thought of a haunted super soldier on your mind- you fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning you found yourself awake later than usual, but feeling well-rested and eager to start the work you had set aside for today. The scent of your mother's eggs and bacon wafted through the house, waking up your tastebuds and making your stomach growl. You quickly dressed yourself in your most comfortable jeans, black tank top and an old unbuttoned checkered shirt which had once belonged to your brother Carter. You preferred to not damage your own clothes as you set to work, so instead you opted to use anything you could find lying around in your brother's room. You quickly tucked your notebook with all the measurements you would need for the day into the back pocket of your jeans. Cursed be the fashion industry who apparently felt it was a good idea to rob women of comfort and sizable pockets.

You bolted down the stairs two steps at a time and burst through the kitchen door with a smile, relishing in the sight of your mother sliding a serving of bacon on a plate which was already filled with toast and eggs.

"Mother- you look absolutely stunning," you grinned cheekily as you stole the plate from the counter, earning you a slap on your arm from her spatula. Your mother laughed, the aged lines around her eyes darkening as she scolded you.

"Those were your sister's!"

"Come on mom- she needs far less calories than I do. I mean- all she does is sit around in that bloody diner all day," you call back as you pushed your way through the door, knowing that Harper spent most of her shifts sitting on a barstool, checking her phone and sneaking an occasional Whiskey Ditch to one of her friends.

As you burst into the dining room, you were expecting to see Harper's fuming face staring back at you for robbing her of her breakfast, but instead- you found her at the table staring at a man hunkered over his breakfast. The sudden realization that you had forgotten that your family was now housing a fugitive robotic war criminal, hit you in the face like ton of bricks. The dark scruffy shoulder-length hair obscured most of the man's face, but you temporarily found two clear blue eyes- focussed on you as soon as you had bombarded yourself into the room. Before you even had the chance to consider feeling ashamed for shouting like a fishmonger, his eyes left yours and refocussed on his plate which held almost double the contents of yours. He was dressed in a Red Henley top which strained around his broad shoulders and thick upper-arms, with a titanium arm sprouting from the left sleeve.

"Morning bean. Slept well?" your father asked from the other side of the table. You looked up, realizing you had been staring and quickly found your seat beside your father as you pondered the picture from your father's office. The lightness of his eyes was striking and offset the soldier's dark appearance and grim facial expression.

"Yeah- I slept alright," you answered as you grabbed the syrup bottle and drizzled some on your bacon, ignoring the disapproving glance from your sister. Like your father, you had always snuck some on and couldn't give a rat's arse about what people thought about that. You felt somewhat dazed by the awkwardness of an enhanced superhuman and possible-bomber sitting at your family's table eating your mother's eggs.

"So sarge, as discussed with captain Rogers I do expect you to help around at the ranch. Nothing in life comes for free."

You almost choked on your bacon as you heard your father address him as sarge. He however, did not seem bothered as he looked up at your father and gave him a curt nod, seeming unbothered by the prospect. Your father had always respected military men and felt proud but fearful for his son joining the army like his grandfather.

"When the cabins are finished we can set you up in one, as Carter's room is quite small for a large fella like you. In the meantime, I could use some help on the tractor and perhaps you can help little bean here to finish up the barn and some of the cabins."

You felt your cheeks flush somewhat as the steely blue eyes found yours once more. You suddenly felt embarrassed by the nickname your father had used. Ever since you were a baby, he had called you that and it had stuck with most of your family and friends. In fact, many people in town didn't even know your real name. This was the first time it bothered you and you didn't know why.

"I'll be fine dad," you uttered. You preferred to work alone because then no one would try to force their ideas on you or would criticize your work. Last year, you had agreed to take over your family's ranch, provided you were allowed to change its business model. Determined to bring in more money and send your parents off to well-deserved retirement in a house closer to town, you had started renovating some of the cabin your grandparents had built for their seasonal workers. You planned on turning them into gorgeous accommodations for hikers and travellers who were visiting the Rocky Mountains. Additionally, you had been working on transforming the old barn into a space suitable for weddings and parties.

Before you dad could interject and insist you accept the help offered, you finished the last of your eggs and grabbed the last strip of bacon before getting up from the table and calling for your dog, "Staples!"

Within seconds, a large Bernese Mountain Dog ran into the kitchen and clumsily sat itself down at your feet, knowing his daily rash of bacon was waiting between your fingers. You smiled as you flung the bacon to the sky and felt Staples' front paws connecting with your waist as he jumped up to scoop it up from the air. You ruffled its black, white and copper fur as a reward for the neat trick.

"Love you dad," you said quickly and pressed a kiss on top of his head as you usually did. As you did so, you met the soldier's haunting eyes from across the table and for some reason- you smiled at him. It wasn't a smile with an agenda, there was no pity or comfort hidden in the corner of your lips- you simply couldn't help yourself. Lord- he must think you're an idiot. You quickly grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl before you bolted out of the kitchen, feeling the set of steel blue eyes follow you until you until you let the door slam closed behind you.