Steve waited on a bench near the bakery as he read Cat's Cradle on his phone. Like Dean suggested he had stopped at the bookstore in San Francisco, but wanting to travel light he only brought one book: On the Road. It took place after his time, after he'd gone under the ice, and the war had ended. It took place from 47' to 50' telling of road trips across the U.S in the era of jazz and greats such as Charlie Parker, and the generation living in post war America. It was interesting, and although the book started out slow he burned through it by the end racing to the finish. He didn't approve of the drug use, but he thought it funny how the character Dean Moriarty seemed quite a bit like Dean Winchester; easygoing and carefree and speaking without self consciousness.

He had texted Dean about, even though it took a while because he tried not to misspell anything. Dean had read On the Road a number of times and his favorite character was Carlo Marx.

Steve thought it might be rude to go in without walking in with Dean, so he just waited outside until he heard the Impala roaring down the road to turn into the parking lot. He put his phone away when Dean got out of his car and waved. Dean had said his job had been a rough one, but he didn't say he'd look like he'd lost a fight there were bruises around his neck and a purple one completely covering his right cheekbone. The scratches were bad enough, and a ghastly frankenstein stitch was on his collarbone. In shock, Steve jogged over to him meeting him halfway, "Jesus, Dean. You said you got pretty banged up, but you said it wasn't that bad! What's happening with that Frankenstein looking stitch on your collar?"

Dean shot Steve a half smile as he shrugged, "It ain't that bad! My brother stitched me up, and I'll have you know he's the best one in my family at stitches. A little Whiskey for disinfectant and pain, a sewing needle, and some dental floss and you're good to go!"

"There are these things called Emergency rooms."

"I don't have health insurance. Sue me."

Steve shook his head but still smiled, "I probably shouldn't even be chew you out for it anyway. When I was young and scrawny I used to get into fights guys twice my size. My best pal used to always chew me out for it saying it wouldn't make me a chicken to just do what was smart, and he said he was thinking I liked being punched, but it wasn't for kicks. I just don't like backing down from a fight, and if I ran I thought they might not stop."

Dean nodded, "I can understand that. Although, I'm having a hard time picturing you small and scrawny."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, "It was a long time ago, before I got into the military. Is Sam in the same shape as you?"

"He's got bruises and scratches." Dean said, " I stitched up a deep scratch on the back of his neck, but he took a rough tumble so he's back at the motel icing up and watching the History channel. Now this is a very important question. Do you or do you not like pie?"

"I love pie. My favorite's apple." Steve replied.

Steve didn't think he'd ever get tired of Dean's fifty watt smile, "As every good man should. Sammy thinks cake's basically the same thing as pie; the fucker."

"Cake is not the same as pie. Cake's good on occasion like birthdays, but pie's good everyday."

Dean slapped Steve's back as he opened up the bakery/cafe door, "Damn right, and this place has the best apple pie I've ever tasted; close to my Mom's even."

Sammy seemed like the most important thing to Dean, along with his car, and pie was a close second.

They ordered two apple pies with coffee and at a table near the store window. Without any further conversation Dean dug into his pie, and Steve couldn't help but blush at the sounds Dean made. He spoke with a full mouth, "Dude, seriously try it."

Steve actually cared if anyone heard him making those sounds, but they were pretty warranted. The warm apple, crisp crust, and sweet cinnamon all melded together perfectly in his mouth. he swallowed before speaking, "Wow-You weren't fooling. That's really good."

Dean raised a brow, "Better than Mom's"

"My Mom made Shepard's pie; it's meat and potatoes, but my buddy Bucky's mama made damn good apple pie. This may be a close second."

Dean scooped up more pie, "I always tried to get my Mom's apple pie recipe just right for Sammy, but it always felt like it was missing something."

Steve said, "I thought he was a kid because they way you talk about him sounds like he's your whole world. I never had any siblings, closest I had was Bucky, but Sam sounds like a real put together fella."

"He kinda is my world. I know I should let up on him a little, and I'm trying, but I can't help looking out for the kid. I tried my best to make sure he came out okay, got food in him, anyone messed with him they messed with me. He's real smart and for a 6'4 nearly 200 pound guy he's a softie. He likes to think people are good. He's trusting and his heart's always in the right place. He likes to wear his hair long, he listens to the latest pop songs, he likes froffy coffee, and a slightly unhealthy love for his laptop."

Steve covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. Dean glared, "Why're you laughing?"

Steve replied,"Your little brother's taller than you are."

Dean huffed, "Shut up, he's taller than you too. The kid just drank more milk than me growing up. Hell, I'm taller than you by an inch."

"Are not."

"Are too."

"You wear heeled boots."

Dean argued, "I've got have some way not to look small standing next to my brother!"

Steve made a compressive, "Fine, how about half an inch taller than me?"

Dean grinned, "So long as you admit I am taller."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Yes, because half an inch means so much. With that half an inch you'll probably be able to reach a top shelf to get something, and me lacking my half inch won't have that kind of capability."

Dean pointed at Steve with his fork, "Sassy Steve."

Steve laughed, "You probably say that to every fella with a S beginning his name. Your brother's name started with a S. Is he Sassy Sam?"

Dean thought it over for a moment, "Well, I guess Sassy Sammy works as ending in Y and starting with S, but he's more Bitchy Baby Brother."

"I don't think I'll ever understand you. Sam always ends up being a patsy in your jokes."

Dean quoted, ""Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly; Man got to sit and wonder 'why, why, why?' Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land; Man got to tell himself he understand." He slapped his forehead, "Shit, you don't know that do you?"

Steve had felt so accomplished when he had actually gotten Tony's Wizard of Oz reference, and he felt that feeling again, "I actually do. Before you pulled up I was reading Cat's Cradle on my phone. I never could've figured it out before, and I wanted to travel light, so I can't have a whole bunch of books on me. A colleague of mine is really sharp about technology, and I'm not so great with it, but I just have to press the little app thing now and I can read it. It's kind of why it takes so long for my to text."

Dean shrugged, "Sammy's always busting my balls saying I'm a technophobe. I'm not I just don't need a lot of the stuff, so I don't learn how to use it. Sammy practically had to force a smart phone into my hand when they started becoming more and more popular, and he can't handle me having a flip phone. If you want to call you want; I don't mind unless I'm working a job. Cat's Cradle's definitely one of the best, so it's a good first start for Vonnegut. You got a favorite quote?"

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, "Uh, well I guess it's-In the beginning, God created the earth, and he looked upon it in his cosmic loneliness. And God said, "Let Us make living creatures out of mud, so the mud can see what We have done." And God created every living creature that now moveth, and one was man. Mud as man alone could speak. God leaned close to mud as man sat, looked around, and spoke. "What is the purpose of all this?" he asked politely.

"Everything must have a purpose?" asked God.

"Certainly," said man.

"Then I leave it to you to think of one for all this," said God.

And He went away."

Dean responded with, "Say what you will about the sweet miracle of unquestioning faith, I consider a capacity for it terrifying and absolutely vile."

Steve furrowed his brow in thought, "That's not from Cat's Cradle; I think?"

"Nah, it's from Mother's Night. It's still Vonnegut."

"I'll have to read that one."

Dean's phone blared a song Steve recognized from Tony blasting it. Dean give him an apologetic look, but Steve said, "It's probably your brother. It might be important, or he could just be hungry and want you to bring him back something."

Dean pressed call and put the phone to his ear, "What Sammy?"

"Dude, you did you just wake up? You sound more whiny than usual."

"You're the asshat, and yes I'm there."

"Gez, fine I'll get it. Yes, I'll remember it. I'll see you soon then."

Dean shoved his phone back in his pocket, "That kid! You were right he is hungry, and extremely whiney. He wants a mocha frappuccino and two multigrain bagels."

Steve offered, "Let me get it; since you paid for the pie."
"I invited you to get pie!"

Steve stood up to go to the counter, "Still."

Steve watched Dean pout as he stood in line behind a woman getting a tray of coffee's, but the pout quickly faded into a small smile. The bagels looked familiar enough, but he wasn't so sure the frappacino thing was so much a coffee as it looked like a desert. Steve put the bag of bagels and the drink in front of Dean, "You sure that's a coffee. It looks like a malt."

Dean took a sip of Sam's drink, "Told you he liked frothy drinks. Here, try it."

"It's for Sam. You shouldn't be drinking it either." Steve argued.

"It's what big brothers do. Come on, just try it, and you bought it so by partially yours until it reached his hands. He won't ever have to know. I know you wanna." Dean waved the straw in front of Steve's face until he gave in, "Alright, I'll try it. Just a little sip."

Steve's took the straw into his mouth and pretended Dean wasn't watching him with a mischievous smirk. The drink hit his tongue and he instantly drew back and scrunched up his lips. The coffee taste he didn't mind do much, but the amount of sugar and cream in it was just too much for his tastebuds. It was almost like the time he had first eaten a banana in this time.

Dean busted up laughing, "Oh God, your face, dude! That was priceless; just priceless."

Steve glared at Dean's joy at his suffering, but he couldn't put much heat behind it; Dean had just a wonderful laugh, "You should probably change the straw for a new one."

"No way! I once put Sammy's toothbrush under my arm. He can handle drinking out of a straw we both touched."

"That's disgusting, Dean. You should probably get it to him them. I don't think he'd like it if it melted before hand."

Dean got up from his seat, "Yeah, guess so. We should do this again sometime."

Steve shrugged, "Just give me a time and place and I will."

Dean asked, "How do you like pool?"

"Never really played it that much. I'm guessing you're a pro at it, hm?"

"Damn right I am." Dean replied, "I really don't know where me and Sammy are heading next, but I'll call you sometime, okay?"

Steve smiled, "Okay, I'll look forward to it."

Steve thought it only polite to walk Dean back to his car, and Dean patted him on the back before getting into his car. Steve went back to his motorcyle and held his face in his hands. He had actually told Dean he was looking forward to seeing him again. Lame; that was the only word that could describe him. Tony, Natasha, or Clint probably never had trouble like that. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Steve expected it to be from one of the Avengers, but instead the text was from Dean.

Dean: Dude, you know I'm not that far out of the parking lot. I saw you sulking, and I wanted to let you know there's no reason for it. You're cool, man. I'm serious. I don't hate you or anything if that's what your thinking.

Steve: I wasn't sulking.

Dean: Whatever, I took another sip of Sammy's frappe. I couldn't resist.

Steve: It was far too sweet.

Dean: Just like you.

Steve: I'm starting to think I just might not be the only lame one here.

Dean: I am a delight, Steve Rogers, I am a fucking delight.

The Impala went farther down the road until Steve couldn't see it anymore. He dialed Tony's number and waited for him to pick up. Instead, JARVIS answered, "My apologies, Captain Rogers, but Sir is a bit occupied at the moment, and if I can I would be glad to assist you."
Steve heard Tony yell in the background, "DUM-E! You get your metal ass back here right now! No, not you U, I'm talking to DUM-E! DUM-E, you put that down right now I won't have you being a little brat! I have done nothing to you."

Steve asked, "JARVIS, what does DUM-E have that Tony wants."

"DUM-E wishes to watch the movie Wall-E, but Sir does not want to. In return for not being pleased DUM-E had stolen Sir's boxers, and they are the only pair he possess in the workshop."

"I'm sure inventing naked doesn't boast his thinking ability in the slightest."

JARVIS replied, "Sir, had yet to believe it. Now then, how might I assist you, Captain Rogers."

Steve said, "I was going to tell Tony I tried a Mocha Frappuccino today, and wasn't overly fond of it. I also finished reading Cat's Cradle, and thought he might have a suggestion to what I could read next."

"For you, Captain, I would recommend reading Hyperion. I myself am quite fond of The Caves of Steel by Isaac Asimov. Sir, had me read quite a number of Asimov's works in learning what an AI should not be like." JARVIS said, "Sir, wishes to speak with you now that he has retrieved his undergarments. Good day, Captain."

"Thanks, JARVIS."

Tony practically yelled into the phone, "Hey Steve! DUM-E's in time out now, so what's up? Spend all your money at a strip club and you need me to wire you some?"

JARVIS said, "Sir, I told you what Captain Rogers said!"

Tony groaned, "But that's so boring. I agree with you on the the Frappe thing because I like my coffee steaming hot!" Tony continued, " I will never forget your reaction to how bananas are different that was just so amazing and I'm glad JARVIS got it saved. Also, Science is magic that works. I don't think I've read Cat's Cradle since I was a teenager, but I remember that quote. I wonder if I did the schematics for that engine I was working on. I know I sent the ones for the med stuff to Pepper to have RD look over. RD is full of people with their head so far up their asses they can't tell a G-Type Joist Girder and a Panhard Rod. For a book I reccomend Foundation it's also Asimov since were on a Sci-Fi kick. That makes me think of Kix cereal. I haven't had that for a while. JARVIS, make a not: Get a box of Kix cereal. Ah, where was I Where are you for that matter?"

Steve chuckled. It seemed impossible for Tony to stick to one train of thought, and yet it didn't cause him any trouble in the slightest. His ideas and thoughts would just flow from his mouth, and the gears in his head never seemed to stop running. Steve was beginning to think of Tony as a friend, and when he tried to bring up what he'd said on the Helicarrier when they first met he simply said 'Forgiven and Forgotten. That's Harry Potter. You should read it BUTTERFINGERS is a big fan.' Steve said,"I'm in Oregon. I was at a bakery and got some really great apple pie."

"Of course, you like apple pie. You American Icon you! Got to keep to the American , as American as Apple pie thats you, Cap."

JARVIS corrected him, "Actually, Sir, apple pies didn't originate in America."

Tony said, "Well the motto still fits for the patriotic captain. How've you been Steve-o?"

Steve knew Tony really didn't do emotional stuff, but it was still a nice gesture. Steve answered honestly, "Better, a lot better actually. I'm heading back east soon through north since I came this way from the south."

"Ew, the south. If you go through Illinois check out the Museum of Science and Industry. There's a really awesome exhibit there."

Steve asked, "I'm going to take a guess and assume it's about you?"

Tony gasped, "U has an exhibit? No, U, I'm not sending you to a museum so quit flailing like that." Tony said, "Of course, it's about me I'm one of the most brilliant minds of this age."

Steve retorted, "And yet you can't manage to get your unmentionables back from just one little robot."

Tony huffed, "When did you get so cheeky, Capsicle?"

Steve smiled when he thought of Dean calling him that, "I've always been this way."

"JARVIS, make a note. Steve will not have sanctimonious written his file and it will be replaced with sassy!"

"You had me as sanctimonious written in your files?"

"JARVIS abort the phone call! We're going into a tunnel. Your call has been disconnected. Beep!"
"TONY!"

A couple of weeks passed before Dean said to meet him at Edgar's Bar in Jackson, Wyoming. Dean would usually call when he had the chance, and he texted often, and yet Steve felt excitement over getting to see his friend again. He tried talking to Tony about pool to see if he could get any useful information but then he got a barrage of mathematics, angles, and logistics. JARVIS, knowing Steve would have some difficulty with Tony, gave Steve some good tips and more understandable information. It hadn't helped Tony had managed to go 72 hours without a wink of sleep. He thought something had been up when Tony's texts become more and more legible, and when Steve called he couldn't even keep up with Tony's talking let alone what it actually met. JARVIS handled it accordingly once he thought the hallucinations started.

Tony was out like a light for fourteen hours straight. When he bragged about it to Steve he tried to convince Tony to actually sleep regularly, rather than try and make up for the lost hours later. Dean was scolded when Steve told him the story about his friend going 72 hours, and he said he always tried to get his usual four hours. He tried not to be too serious about it. He'd get nightmares and while his insomnia wasn't too bad it did make sleeping difficult at times; Dean and Tony probably experienced those things too.

Old faithful, Yellowstone, the Wyoming Transportation Museum; Steve tried to visit as many neat sites as he could that he had once thought about visiting. He had an okay system: sleep, get up early, call Dean, eat, run, eat, visit some place, text Dean, maybe call Tony, eat, go to bed early sleep. Sometimes he'd still find himself lonely in his motel room, but becoming friends with Tony rather than just teammates, and meeting Dean helped that quite a bit. Dean had told him he didn't like traveling alone when he was younger and his brother was out of school, so he understood when Steve just called or texted for no reason.

Steve pulled up on his motorcycle to Edgar's bar and Dean was waiting for him. Dean leaned against the side of his Impala, "Hey, Rogers, are you even legal to drink?"

Technically, chronologically, Steve knew he was closer to his nineties. Even if some of the time sometimes referred to him as nicknames usually involving him being an old man he felt and actually looked like his age. Before the serum he had looked like a teenager being so small, "I'm 95 actually. I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to drink, and I'm not a lightweight either"

Dean laughed. He didn't know how true that statement really was. Dean didn't know his metabolism went too fast for alcohol to have any effect on him, "Very funny. What's it really."

"I'm 25. I was born on July 4th."

Of 1918.

Dean whistled, "Damn, I am 10 years older than you. You're in your prime and here I am middle aged."

Steve asked, "What's your birthday?"

"January 24th. Come on, I'll by you a drink and you can marvel at my awesome pool skills." Dean grabbed Steve's arms and pulled him into the bar. Whiskey, rum, gin, vodka, whiskey, tequila? Pick your poison. If hard liquors not your thing you can have a martini or something. I won't judge."

"A beer I guess."

The bartender asked, "What can I get you boys?"

Dean told the bartender, "Double shot of jack, and a beer on tap, please."

Dean sat at the bar and waited for the drinks. "Steve, go check out the pool table and see how it's faring." Steve did exactly as Dean asked, but if anyone was going to do the tip it was going to be him. He watched from near the pool table as Dean took his wallet out of his pocket to get a credit card. The bartender asked, "Uh, is that for the drinks?" Dean glared at the twenty dollar bill sitting at the bar then turned around to Steve to glare at him. Steve pretended he didn't see him. He handed the bartender his card and the bartender put down the drinks, "My buddy thinks he's sneaky putting down the tip. It's all good. Thanks for the drinks."

The bartender smiled before he got back to work, "No problem."

Dean handed Steve his beer and threw back one of the whiskey's. The last time Steve had tasted whiskey it had been stolen, he had sixteen, and it burned like hellfire in his throat. Dean made it look easy, "You're not as sneaky as you think. Come on, let's try and hustle these country boys."

Steve said, "Swindling isn't right, Dean, and didn't you say you were from Kansas?"

"Yeah, I was born in Lawrence, and you're a city boy, but we moved so much so it doesn't count. Sammy, used to tell me that all the time, but fine no hustling. We'll just play a nice friendly game of of pool, okay?"

"Okay, and I'm just from Brooklyn."

At Steve's suggestion at Dean not being able to drive Baby if he got anymore shots he switched to a beer. Steve knew Dean really didn't want to, mostly because their friendly game of pool ended in a tie. Dean pouted, "My dad taught me how to play pool before I even knew how to ride a bike. I should've won. Did your dad teach you or something?"

Steve figured half-truths were better than outright lies, "My dad died in military service and I was too young to remember him. I grew up with my mom, but she died when I was 20."

Dean's face instantly went from sulking to understanding, "My mom died in a fire when I was four. Sometimes I think I forget her and I'm worried I will. My dad passed when I was 26 and the man me and Sam considered more a father sometimes died about four years ago. I loved my dad, but he really wasn't the same after Mom died, and he was sometimes more a drill sergeant than a dad. It's mostly just been me and Sammy for a while. I always told him that when we were younger. That it was me and him against the world."

Steve couldn't help but feel an aching in his chest. Dean was spewing his guts out to Steve, and yet he couldn't tell him partially because of confidentiality until Shield was ready to reveal his real identity to the world, and partially because Steve was scared Dean would react negatively or not even believe him.

Dean gently punched his shoulder, "Enough of this sad shit. It doesn't look good on you. Pulchra tu habes oculos."

Steve furrowed his brow confused, "Did you speak Spanish or Italian? It sounded like it, but I'm not quite sure."

"It's Latin." Dean replied, "My dad and Uncle Bobby made sure we would learn it. Sometimes they'd have days where they'd only speak in Latin and if me and Sammy wanted anything we'd have to do it in Latin."

Steve asked, "What'd you say then?"

Dean grinned like the cat who caught the canary, "Not telling."

"Tá tú fear iontach."

"What the hell are you speaking?"

"Tá tú chomh dathúil." Steve switched to English, " My mom used to always speak it at home. Her parents were immigrants from Ireland and she was sure to teach me Gaelic."

Okay, so his parents were Irish immigrants, but grandparents sounded a bit more believable.

Steve didn't know if Dean knew any other languages, but if he did Steve had some German phrases ready to go. Dean grinned at him while he moved a hand around , pulled it into a fist, and moved it over. "Oh, you know sign language!"

Dean looked over Steve's shoulder to see the older bartender trying not to laugh. He signed back to Dean "I know what you said. My cousin is deaf. You told him he has a cute butt and he doesn't even know that's what you told him that."

Steve didn't know why Dean's cheeks went red or he instantly put his hands down. He didn't know what Dean had said, but he was sure it wasn't mean. He replied in German, "Ich mag dich. Du siehst wunderschön aus, wenn du rot wirst. How'd you learn sign langauge, Dean?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe it was a really personal story. "Bobby, the guy I told you about, he taught me. After my mom died I just didn't talk for a while. I'd only whisper to Sammy, but Bobby wanted me to still have a way to communicate, and I just kept on with it. It comes in handy sometimes. Where'd you learn to speak German?"

"Military."

World War 2, to be precise,

Steve said, "I know a little bit of other languages too."

Dean's cheerful mood returned if only a little bit dampened by the talk of his childhood, mother, and surrogate father, "No way, you're not showing me up any more! You and Sammy can have a language's I know face off sometime, but I'm not joining. Speaking German! Who speaks German?"

Steve shrugged, "I don't know probably Germans and a large number of countries in Europe."

Dean grinned behind his beer, "You're an ass, Rogers."

Steve really prefered it when Dean smiled.

egal since you were a guest I couldn't reply to you, but thank you for pointing out the German for me. The farthest my knowlege of German goes is a couple words; English, Spanish, French, yes, but German not so much. I used Google Translate and hoped for the best. Thank you for your help.