3 Months Ago Prior
Bucky leans back against his roof, summer had just begun and they were hanging out at his house, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
Clint was half asleep on one of the ratty beach chairs they'd hauled up here a year ago, and Natasha was tapping on her phone.
Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Steve would be here shortly, and Tony couldn't make it, some MIT internship.
Bucky thinks about asking… he isn't sure if it's just been him who has noticed.
"Guys?"
He doesn't look at them, but he knows they've turned to listen, "you guys notice anything about Steve… recently?"
"Like what?"
"He's tired a lot." Bucky responds to Clint's question. Natasha sighs, looking out over the edge of the roof towards Steve's house.
"He's been kind of quiet in the house lately."
There's a silence and Bucky can feel Clint staring at them, "what happened?"
Bucky shrugs, "I dunno… maybe… Maybe he's just going through a teenager phase."
"He's entitled to it." Clint says crisply. "He's got a crap ton to deal with."
"You know he stopped going to Howard's?"
Bucky and Clint immediately turn to Natasha, "What?" Bucky almost shouts.
Natasha grimaces, "I don't think I'm supposed to know… I… I may have overheard him telling Sam that he was going to take a break like a month and a half ago…"
"Why didn't you tell us!" Clint huffs, "why did he stop?"
Natasha sighs heavily, "I didn't say anything because I wasn't sure how long the break would last… and if I'd been a human pincushion like him, I'd ask for a break too… you guys saw the bruises and stuff on his arms."
They grow quiet and soon enough they hear Bucky's back door creak open and the metal of the fire escape creak.
The soft footfalls tell them who it is without having to look.
"Hey guys," Steve says to them softly, sitting in the chair next to Clint. "Can't believe it's finally summer!"
They nod and the conversation continues on topics of how they plan to spend it.
—-
1 Month Prior
They stare as Steve falls asleep before their very eyes.
No one speaks. Just stare at the kid whose hand dangles off the arm of the chair, a fork held between bony fingers, a practically untouched peach pie perched precariously on his lap.
The soft music of Steve's favorite playlist fills the roof, since they just stare in silence.
"He's not eating much." Natasha whispers. "Yelena and I watch him at dinner and he mostly shoves the food around on his plate."
"He fell asleep on me yesterday when we were playing video games." Bucky adds softly. "Why is he so tired?"
Tony looks at Steve and his eyes blink slowly, "my guess? And I'm no medical doctor… it's gotta be his heart. Tires him out. Takes a lot of energy out of him. It's working really hard to keep up with his body…"
"What body?" Clint hisses, "he's a skeleton. He was gaining weight, looking more filled out and suddenly we're back to this?" Clint points at the sharp angles at Steve's wrist.
Tony's face is pinched as he speaks, "think about it. Kid is born with the defect right? So his body is already starting at a weaker point. Then you heard the doctor rattle off the list of ailments he had before witch lady got a hold of him. Scarlett Fever weakens the heart and so do a bunch of other viruses that he's probably had. Add that on top of malnutrition, abuse, stress? I'm surprised he's lasted this long. If the doctor says 30–" His voice cuts off and his jaw is tightly clenched for minute, "technically, if he was in perfect health other than his heart… he'd make it to 30… but he isn't and at this rate—" he swallows thickly, "he won't."
"Your dad's going to fix him right?" Natasha asks quietly, desperation in her tone.
"I wouldn't bet against him." Tony responds, his eyes on Steve, "but this isn't a machine. Steve's not a robot whose parts you can just replace…"
Steve shifts and they go quiet.
—
2&½ Weeks Ago
"Something's happened."
Bucky and Clint stop what they're doing and look up to find Natasha standing over them, hands wrapped for climbing.
"What?" Clint asks, standing up and flexing his fingers.
She frowns, "I dunno, not exactly. Steve's—-"
Bucky looks at her, something constricting in his chest, "Steve's what?"
She grimaces, "He's… cranky. I know that sounds stupid. But when you have a kid as nice and polite as Steve… you notice a change."
"What changed?" Bucky let's go of the carabiners he'd been inspecting. They shuffle to the wooden benches that line the fake turf on the ground. Natasha is staring at Clint's T-shirt, designating him as an employee, screams CLIMB ON! In bright neon yellow against a black backdrop.
"He…" she groans, rubbing at her eyes, "this sounds so stupid. I don't know. It's not like he's done anything specific… he's just… cranky."
"Not exactly a crime." Clint says calmly, walking away to help someone who needs assistance.
"What do you think?" Natasha asks Bucky, "you and he get along the best, you think he's acting normal?"
"What the hell is normal for Steve? He's dealing with a lot. I'd be way more of a mess than he is. I think we can give him some leeway for being slightly cranky."
She doesn't respond.
—-
Present
Bucky sits in the library during his study hall. His earphones in as he stares at the Pre-Calc book in front of him. He blinks and feels his eyes go a bit heavy. He'd been up late talking to—-
He feels a blush warm under his collar and he shakes his head. Focus.
He feels eyes on him and he glances up, two pairs slide away from him quickly and he thinks nothing of it.
Then it happens again.
And again.
He narrows his eyes and waits this time, staring in the direction of the two boys who are whispering heatedly. Finally they glance at him again and he catches them in the act. He glares at them, taking out his headphones, "you need something?"
They gape at him and the teacher glances up, only to look back down at their computer.
"Take a picture." Bucky says crisply, "it'll last longer."
Then one actually pipes up, "You're uh— You're friends with that junior right? Steve?"
Bucky feels his mind go on alert, "yeah? Why?"
They light up, faces in awe and they quickly shuffle over, sitting in the seats across from him. Bucky leans back, startled by their enthusiasm.
"Were you there? When he got 'em?"
Bucky's brow furrows, "huh?"
"I googled his name, and he popped right up. Was it really Tony Stark who ordered the hit on him?"
Blood is rushing through Bucky's ears and he can't remember how to breathe.
"You okay dude?" One of them asks.
Bucky leans forward and grabs one of the kid's collars, pulling him closer, "tell me exactly what happened."
The kid's eyes go wide but he just starts mumbling, "I-in soccer. We had to play soccer, coach made Steve be skins—" Bucky feels his heart start to beat faster. He lets go of the kids collar, standing up, mind racing.
Oh no.
"WHY." Bucky shouts, "WHY DID THE COACH MAKE HIM?"
"Mr. Barnes, please be quiet." The teacher admonishes.
Bucky practically vibrates with fury, why the hell was Steve in PE at all? But he leans down, "tell me everything. From the beginning."
The kid is shrinking in his chair but he still speaks. "The coach assigned shirts and skins because the scrimmage jerseys aren't in yet. And Steve tried to request to switch to shirts, but the coach—" The kid swallows thickly and looks sheepish, like he doesn't want to continue.
"Keep talking." Bucky snarls.
"The coach told Steve that he should be more body positive and not be ashamed to be skinny basically."
Bucky's hands grip the table so hard the wood protests and the kid flinches.
"And." Bucky growls, knowing that's not the end of the story.
"So Steve was…" he glances at his friend, "he was standing in the middle of the field and just yanked his shirt off, and we played."
Bucky's eyes close, "and you're the only one who noticed?" He says it quietly, almost like a wish.
"Uh." The kids says haltingly, "no. It was real noticeable. Our whole team noticed immediately cuz we were standing behind him when he ripped his shirt off. Then the coach noticed pretty quickly after that and the game stopped. The coach tried to get him a shirt and Steve refused, which was pretty badass in my—"
"Don't." Bucky snaps, "don't have an opinion."
The kid winces, "uh- yeah, anyways, we kept playing and that's it."
Bucky rips out his phone.
—-
He's texted Steve 40 times. No response. He catches Natasha in the hallway who is already fuming. "He's not responding to me either." Natasha says, "I'm going to pull him out of his next class and talk to him."
"I hate that I have that stupid placement level test today in pre-calc!" Bucky groans, "forget it, I'll be with you. They can place me at the base level, I don't care."
"No." Natasha says firmly, "go take your test, you want to get into a higher course. We talked about this, it will be better for your college applications. I'll talk to him, get the story straight and then you can talk to him when you get a chance."
Bucky hates it, but he agrees.
—
Except that idiot gives both of them the slip. And when they get to his house, Sam just looks at them with sad eyes and says "he took off right when he got home."
"Where'd he go?"
"I don't know… What happened?"
"Nothing." Natasha says quickly, "we'll be back." They leave the house quickly and walk around the corner.
"SON OF A BITCH." Bucky shouts, slamming the back door of his house as they exit into the yard.
"Bucky." Natasha admonishes, "you're lucky your folks and Becca aren't home."
"What was he thinking?" He growls, "on so many levels. Why was he in PE? Why did he agree to take his shirt off? Why was he playing soccer?! That can't be good for his heart! The strain!"
"He's not a glass doll." Natasha says crisply.
Bucky grabs at his hair. "Why would he leave his phone? Why doesn't he want to talk to us?"
That she has no answer to.
—
Bucky and Natasha sit on the steps. Waiting.
Clint had returned and told them that Steve was… not okay but not in danger at the moment. Just… upset. Or…
"You're right. He's really not himself." Clint says softly, looking at Natasha.
She just nods. She'd asked Sam a few days ago what he thought and the look that had crossed Sam's face had been unreadable.
"Talk to him yourself." He'd said, lips pursed.
"I don't know what's changed." She says.
After a while Clint had to go to an evening class. They promise to keep him updated.
The street lights have just started to come on when they spot him. Walking painfully slowly around the corner. Almost limping, but stiffly. His joints have not been improving.
They watch his slow approach and Natasha puts a hand on Bucky's arm, "stay calm. He'll shut you out if you yell."
Bucky clenches his teeth but he nods.
—-
Steve sees them and grimaces. He nods at them in greeting, "hey guys." Before attempting to walk past them on the steps.
A hand grabs his and he looks down to see Natasha's hand grasping his. "Steve? Please, don't—" she looks at him, radiating concern, "please, talk to us."
Steve pulls his hand away, hating the thought of how his bony hands must feel against her soft ones, "talk about what?"
"Steve. You know what." Bucky says as he stands, and Steve can see that he's practically shaking. Angry.
Well that's just freaking fantastic because he's angry too.
"And what do you want to say?" Steve snaps, looking at them, "what? Huh?" It's not the response they're expecting and they pull back in surprise. "You wanna tell me I shouldn't have been in PE? Okay, I'll quit. I'll be the kid who got the doctor's note and wimped out of PE. Especially after today. That'll be just great."
"Steve, no— We"
"What?" Steve shouts, his temper flaring higher, "think I shouldn't have taken off my shirt? That I should hide my body for the rest of my life? Not allowed to show it? That I made things harder for Tony and Howard?" Natasha winces at her words thrown back at her, "I didn't ask for these scars, but I have them. They're not going anywhere. And I'm sorry if the world doesn't want to see them. If it makes life harder for you when people know about them. Feel free to leave me alone at school. Then you won't have to deal with me and my choices at all." He glares at them, takes in their stunned expressions and he hates himself. Hates the words and the way they make them feel. But he doesn't relent. "I'll see you guys later."
He turns and walks inside. Closing the door behind him. He'd done a lot of thinking after Clint had left him in that bell tower. Sam and Howard were miserable. They deny it, but it's true. Everything they know about Steve weighs them down, and he absolutely refuses to do that to Bucky, and Natasha, and Tony, and Clint.
So it's better if he just creates some distance. Push them away. If he does a good enough job of it, then they won't even be sad when he dies 8 years before they're expecting him too.
He gets up to his room and is about to lay down on his bed when Peter walks in from the bathroom.
"Steve? You're back? Where were you?"
Peter.
Steve's heart cracks. Peter's eleven now and growing quickly.
He realizes he may not even get to see Peter turn 16.
He feels his chest constrict, "hey Peter. Sorry. I…" he doesn't finish. He doesn't know what he'd say. How does he even go about creating space between him and Peter? Or Wanda? Or Pietro? His siblings.
Peter's eyes stare back at him and he looks at Steve sadly, "why are you crying?"
"Oh, buddy." Steve says, wiping at his face roughly, "sorry. Just got a bit overwhelmed."
"By what?"
"Just stuff." They didn't even know about his heart. He couldn't bring himself to tell them. It was cowardice on his part.
"You wanna… you wanna play legos?" Steve feels exhaustion approaching and he shakes his head.
"Maybe tomorrow, Peter. Okay?"
The kid nods and Steve lays down on his bed. "Can you tell Sam I won't need dinner? I ate already."
A lie. He's doing that more. Lying.
"Okay." Comes Peter's small voice as he leaves the room.
And the answer is right there. Sam. Sure… He thinks they'll be sad when he goes. But Sam and Sarah and Howard will be here to take care of all of them. So Steve can rest knowing they'll never go hungry or without anything they need.
No one needs him now that they're around. But that's good. Steve says, convincing himself. That's good. Because he won't be around for very long.
—
"Sir?"
Howard looks up from his work bench and sees Jarvis standing at the glass door.
"Yeah?"
"Someone is trying to reach you from…" Jarvis hesitates, "I'm not exactly sure which site."
Howard nods, grabbing at the phone he has installed, "hello? This is Howard."
"Hello, Mr. Stark. We spoke a few years ago, and I wanted to call and give you an update?"
Howard squints one eye, trying to remember, "Update?"
"Yes, on the video."
"Video…?"
"About Steve Rogers? The false news story that was spread."
"Oh." Howard sits down on his stool, unease creeping in, "what's the update?"
"There was a large surge of views on the video today. Almost 300 in one day. It's quite unusual. I wanted to let you know."
"Oh." He says softly, "okay. Thanks."
"You're very welcome."
The line goes dead and Howard sits there, unsure of what that could mean. He dials Tony's number.
—
Steve hears his phone ring somewhere in the distance of his sleep-filled mind, but he can't seem to pull himself out of the depths of half-consciousness.
It vibrates again before falling silent.
Steve pulls the covers tighter around him and falls back into sleep.
—-
"Steve." He grumbles and turns over, "Steve, buddy, you gotta get up."
He blinks awake and looks around, "what's goin' on?"
Sam looks at him, eyes sad, "I was getting everyone else ready for school, thought you might have taken off early, but then I saw you didn't grab your lunch or eat breakfast and I—" Sam nods at the door, "Before he left, Peter told me you were still sleeping."
"Oh." Steve sits up, rubbing at his eyes, "what time is it?"
"7:25"
Steve stumbles out of bed, "oh my gosh" He rasps, "I'm going. I'm sorry." His knee gives out and he feels himself wobble.
"Don't rush. It's okay, don't worry." Sam says, grabbing his arm to steady him, "I don't care if you're late to school. I care that you're taking care of yourself. Do you feel okay? Do you need to stay home?"
Steve grimaces, "I can't."
"Why not?"
"People will think I'm hiding if I don't go." As if on cue, Steve's phone buzzes and lights up. Sam glances at it and his eyes widen at the sheer amount of missed calls and texts.
"Steve…" He says, glancing back at him, "what is going on?"
He knows he'll have to tell him eventually. So he does. The shortened and less dramatic version.
"Oh geez," Sam says, wiping at his face.
"You gunna yell at me to?" Steve says flatly.
Sam looks up at him, eyes held tightly. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because…" he looks at the wall where Steve has drawings pinned up, "you have to do what you think you have to do."
That's not the response Steve thought he would get. But there's something else in Sam's eyes. "What?"
"Maybe you should see a counselor."
Steve reels back, "I do, I talk to you all the time."
Sam nods, "I know, and I love that, but… Maybe I'm too close to the situation, maybe you should see someone else. Like a grief counselor."
Steve feels his fists tighten, "why?"
"Because you got horrible, terrible, no-one-should-ever-have-to-hear news, and you won't even tell anyone."
"I told you."
"No. I was there at the appointment."
"Howard—"
"Found out because he pays the bills."
"I— I'm not grieving."
Sam looks at him, not with pity, but with something that makes Steve equally as vulnerable and weak feeling. "You are though, and you have every right too—"
"I'm fine, Sam."
"No, Steve. You're not! You're barely awake half the day, you won't eat. I'm watching you fade before my very eyes and you won't even let me tell Sarah! She'll hate me when—" He closes his eyes and Steve feels his shoulders duck up around his ears, "That's not the point. I'll deal with that. I'm not trying to guilt you into telling people." He clarifies, "I'm just worried because you're not letting people in."
"Why let them in?" Steve responds quietly, "I'm just going to leave them anyway."
Sam's eyes pop open and he grabs Steve's shoulder, "so you don't deserve a life or friends or happiness even if it's for just a short time?"
Oh he hates this conversation. Feels like he's already one foot in.
"I gotta go to school."
"Steve-"
He's out the door and in the bathroom before Sam can stop him.
—
He makes it to school not too late. He's almost glad because the hallway are empty and he's able to walk to his class without anyone looking at him.
Of course when he enters the class every eye stares at him as if he has 3 heads.
The teacher marks him tardy and he slips into his seat.
Eyes dart to him throughout class.
He rubs at his knee and sighs.
—
"Hey." Steve turns from his locker to see Scott standing there.
"Hey, Scott."
"You're like a celebrity now."
Steve grimaces, "huh?"
"You're the cool mysterious scarred kid with the messed up past. Being related to Howard Stark is cool too."
Steve groans and slams his locker shut, "I am not related to Howard."
Scott grins and Steve realizes he's messing with him. "Right. Humor."
"Left your funny bone on the bedside table this morning?"
Steve glares at the hallway of kids whose eyes watch him. "Something like that."
"Heard your pal hit a kid this morning already."
Steve's neck cricks, "what!?'
Scott hesitates, "oh, you uh, didn't know?"
Steve grabs Scott's shoulders, "what happened?"
"Someone called you Howard's bastard and your friend decked him."
"Oh—" Steve looks around, now realizing that it was strange that Bucky and or Natasha hadn't come to hound him. He'd almost thought that maybe his little speech had made them take a step back already… But this made more sense. Few people were as stubborn as Bucky. "You know where he is?"
"Office, I guess.
"Thanks."
"Anytime G-man."
"G-Man?"
"Hell yeah, scars like that are gangster."
"Please don't call me that." Steve groans. Scott laughs and waves goodbye as the bell rings. Steve walks towards the office, trying to hide the limp that the joint in his left knee is causing.
—-
He steps through and sees him immediately.
"What the hell, Bucky." He growls, walking over and crossing his arms over his chest, "what were you thinking?" Bucky scowls at him. "You can't go around hitting people."
Bucky stays silent. The door opens and the principal exits, walking out a red faced boy with a massive black eye. Oh geez. He looks at Bucky, who other than a tad rumpled looks uninjured. That mapped, Bucky was a natural fighter. He and Clint had taken to sparring on days they could get to the local boxing gym. Steve had asked to join, but he'd been informed by Howard that he should, could, and would not.
"Barnes?" The principal says, annoyance clear in his tone.
"That's me." Bucky says lithely, stepping past Steve into the office. The door shuts and the guy stares at Steve.
Steve glares back. "You got something you wanna say?"
"Yeah. Watch your back. And our buddy's."
Okay. People threatening him? He's used too. People threatening Bucky? No way. He growls and stabs a finger towards the kid. "You touch a hair on his head and you'll regret it."
"Oh." The kid fakes being scared, "what are you gonna do? Hell, what can you do? You look like a human twig."
Steve's not exactly sure how, but he manages to leap on a chair, leveling their heights, and throw his whole weight into a punch, landing it solidly on the other side of the kid's face.
Steve's hand explodes in agony as the kid howls and stumbles back.
The next thing he;'s aware of, he's being dragged backwards, and the kid is being held by the principal. Steve looks down at the arms holding him. Bucky.
"My office!" The principal shouts, "now!" He points to his door and all three file in silently.
—
Suspended. For two days. One the third day of school.
His mom was going to be pissed.
Natasha was going to be pissed.
He glances over at Steve who is cradling his (probably) broken hand against his chest.
They haven't spoken. The principal had just finished yelling at them and doling out their punishments.
"I'm going to have to call your parents." The principal sighs, "go sit out in those chairs out there and don't even think about looking at each other. Don't even breathe in the same direction. Do you understand me?"
Three ''yes sirs" and here they are. Sitting silently.
Until the door opens and the last person Steve and Bucky had expected to show walks through the door.
He waltzes in, phone twirling in his hand and eyes set on the two of them.
"You don't call. You don't write? Makes a guy feel like he's being left out in the cold."
"Hey, Tony."
"Hey, Barnes."
Then silence. Bucky watches as Tony looks over at the other kid to his left who is staring at Tony in shock. "Geez." Tony whistles, looking at the matching black eyes the kid is sporting. Then he clocks Steve's hand.
"Steve?"
"Hey, Tony."
"Let's get out of here."
The door to the principal's office opens and the man comes walking out. He stops in his tracks at the sight before him.
"Hey, Mr. Principal. I'm Tony. I need to borrow these two."
"They need to be picked up by their guardians."
"Yep. That's me."
The man blinks. "I'm sorry what?"
Tony smiles, a smile that Bucky knows means Tony's ten steps ahead. "Check their files. I'm listed as one of their guardians."
The man, who Bucky admits is a good guy, not a crazy power hungry principal or anything, but he watches at the man sputters, "you're telling me that Tony Stark—"
"Is right here in front of you telling you to check their damn files."
The man disappears behind his door and comes back a few minutes later.
"You're free to go." He says in disbelief.
Tony smiles, "Nice meeting you," he directs to the principal. "Later Ranger Rick," he says to the boy they had fought. "Come on, you two. Get your suspended rears in gear and let's go."
They only glance at each other briefly before scrambling after him.
—