It took me some time to write this one. College and laziness take over me, but I did it and I'm already excited to write the next chapters. I'm coming to an end (only three chapters left and the prologue).

Hope you guys enjoy it. Perhaps this chapter could have turn a little better, but I don't think I wouldn't much more about it.

It features Steve and... Phillip Coulson! Yeah...

Enjoy it! :D

Home is where you don't need a shield to hide yourself

Steve got up early in the morning and tried not to wake up anyone while he was changing clothing. He looked at his friends sleeping. Loki was hogging the blanket from his brother, making Thor trying to sleepily snatch Natasha's blanket, but she slapped him in her sleep and so he turned around and kept on snoring and sleeping. Bruce and Tony slept next to each other, back against back, the younger looking ridiculously small comparing to Tony. And then there was Clint, balled and wrapped up on his blanket like a bird on its nest.

He wears two identification tags around his neck. He took a look at the two. One of them was his father's, the other his mother's. Steve sighed and tucked them inside his shirt again. After rummaging his backpack, he grabbed something he hadn't given use in a while: his asthma inhaler. He put it in his jeans' pocket, zipped the coat, put on his stocking cap and walked out the theater. Autumn in New York isn't very pleasant.

He had a long way to walk and he was going on foot.

It would be a lonely walk even though the streets' are always full of people and cars and noise. Steve was too depressed to even care about whatever was going on around. It had been two years without his mother and five without his father. Today he grieved about his mother; it was the two year anniversary of her death and he was going to her grave.

When walking by a flower stall he stopped. His hand slipped into his pocket and he searched deeply only bringing some dust under his fingernails and three dollars in coins. It saddened him even more. The florist noticed his sadness.

"How much do you have, little man?"

Steve opened his hand and showed her. "Three dollars. It's worthless."

"I sell you one flower for $2, 50. Any one you like."

"A lily then." He said without even giving it a thought. "Mom always loved lilies."

The woman felt a grip in her heart. "Any color you would like?"

"The lilac one, please."

Steve was already counting the money but she closed his hand. "My offer. My sincere condolences, darling."

"Too late for that now." Steve said on the verge of crying. "It's been two years."

Steve continued his journey, carrying now the flower in his hand. He wasn't too far away from the cemetery but he was feeling tired already. He had been walking for about half an hour now, without having eaten and feeling so miserable that a wave of melancholy was taking over his body.

He sat on the sidewalk for a while. The sounds leaving his mouth were so raw, dry and distressing that made it seem like a thunderstorm was forming on Steve's chest. With trembling hands he grabbed his inhaler and breathed in those little droplets of aerosol. It tasted and felt foreign, like when he started using the inhaler for the first time.

When he was recovered he continued his journey. To his surprise, he found someone at his mother's tombstone. A beautiful and huge floral arrangement was laid on the grass before the gravestone. He smiled for the first time in that day. He knew that woman and he ran to her, tears already rushing down his face. He was so happy to finally seeing someone he actually knew.

"Mrs. Coulson." He screamed as he ran to the elder woman.

She turned around, still wearing that same affable and warming smile as he always remembered. Steve embraced his arms around her and cried. It was a mix of happiness and sadness.

The woman stroked his brownish hair, telling him. "Hello, my little Captain."

"Hello Mrs. Coulson." He wiped his tears, asking. "You brought these?"

"Yes," She looked at the flowers. "I did. She'd like them, wouldn't she?"

"Yes, she would."

"I dropped some at your father's too."

Steve showed her the lily he was holding. "I only had money for this one."

"It's more than enough, dear. You being here is more important than what you bring."

The two then stood quiet before the gravestone, which one of them remembering Sarah as they loved her the most.

Mrs. Coulson was the Rogers' neighbor for ever since Steve remembers. She was married to a military man who died on the Second World War. They had married at the age of 20 and she was widowed by the age of 21, having a young baby on her arms. Mrs. Coulson never married again and raised their son on her own. He grew up to be a good man. He got married and had a son, who happened to be Steve's best friend. Phillip used to spend many afternoons at his grandmother's and so the two kids played.

"Where have you been, love?" She asked him. "Where did you go? Everyone says you ran away…"

"I did. I have no home and no family and I wasn't very fond with having to live in orphanages."

"You'll always have a family; alive or deceased. And you have me, I consider you my grandson. And a home? Home is where you feel comfortable, where you feel you belong. You know that in my house you'll always be welcomed. It's not the same as it was with your parents, but it's something, right? And you have a friend who misses you really much. It's been two years already and he still asks for you every once in a while. "

"Phil still stays at your house for the afternoons?"

"Yes. Actually, today he's coming to lunch at my house and he doesn't have classes for the rest of the day. Would you like to come and spend a little while with him?"

"Can I just stay a little more? I still want to go to my father's grave too."

"Dear, take all the time you want."

Mrs. Coulson waited for him from afar. When he was done he returned to her with red and swollen eyes. The old woman put her hand over his shoulder and the two walked side by side to her house.

Steve helped Mrs. Coulson with the cooking of the lunch. When the sound of the door being opened was heard, Steve panicked. He was about to meet Phil again after two years.

"Hey, grandma." Phil spoke, dropping his schoolbag over the couch and leaning the skateboard against the wall. "Steve!?" He asked confused.

"Yeah… it's me." Steve stretched his hand at him, fearing that he'd not even speak a single word at him.

Phil greeted him with a handshake and a smile lit up his face. "Where have you been?"

The boy swallowed in dry and started composing his lie. "In the orphanage. It's far from here so… I didn't come around… I saw your grandmother at the cemetery and she invited me to spend the afternoon…"

"You're staying for the afternoon? Cool."

"Before any play time, please you two wash up your hands and come for lunch. Phil, lead him to the bathroom, please."

After the lunch, the two were more at ease again (at least Steve), just like the old times. They went to a wasteland to play catch. The sun was already setting in the skyline when they decided to return to Mrs. Coulson's. They were having a blast playing together and Steve was already anticipating how hard it'd be to walk away once again.

On their way back, they walked past by the house that once belonged to the Rogers'. Steve stopped and stared; small and few memories of his time living there came to his mind.

"A couple lives in there now. The woman's pregnant, almost having the baby. A girl, I think." Phil explained. "They moved in quite recently."

"It's good to know that at least the house will have another family in there." Steve spoke after drawing a heavy sigh.

The two stopped before Mrs. Coulson's house. "So, I guess this is goodbye?" Phil questioned.

"Yup… I better get going. The walk will take some time… I'll try to come over when I can."

"That'd be nice…"

The two were just standing there, awkwardly looking around. Neither of them wanted to walk away. Phil stretched his hand and Steve gave him a handshake and then walked away without even saying goodbye. It was easier like that.

The theater was the biggest hullabaloo, as always. Everyone was entertained, doing whatever they please the most. Steve smiled, running his eyes through everyone.

"Where have you been, Steve?" Tony asked, curious as usual.

"Doing some stuff. But I'm back now."

He sounded happy to announce that, joining the others. He realized what Mrs. Coulson told him about having a home. He belonged there, with those folks that he grew close with. It's where he feels comfortable and doesn't feel the need to hide from; they're friends and they understand him, even though that most of the times they seem like the most dysfunctional and uncoordinated people ever put together.

Next chapter is about Clint, the seventh about Tony.

Leave a review telling me what you liked/not liked. Reviews make a writer work faster and unfortunately, for this fanfiction, that wasn't been my incentive... Many followers but no one willing to spare a minute for a simple review. Oh, well, I'm not complaining or begging, ok?