Steve stares at the watch that is nestled against the velvet. It looks very nice.

And very expensive.

His mind flashes to the two guys who mugged him just a few weeks ago and he tries not to openly grimace. This would be a magnet for thieves for sure.

"Do you like it?" Howard asks, a hint of something almost manic in his tone.

"Yeah, Howard." Steve replies honestly, "it's really nice. Too nice, I—"

"Nope.' Howard cuts him off, "no objections. I had it made specifically for you. Here, let me show you why."

He jumps into a long and convoluted explanation about heart and lung monitoring, about how he can receive messages on it and calls, and even send out an emergency alert. Easier than a phone he says with a small smile.

Steve just nods and thanks him again.

—

Clint packs the last of his boxes and stares at his empty room. New Years was in two days and he had found the tiniest, dumpiest apartment halfway across town. It was further than he'd like from work, but at the price, it couldn't be beat.

His step mom, Melissa, stands in the doorway with a frown on her face.

"I guess this is it." He says slowly, picking up the two small boxes and facing her.

"I'm so sorry, Clint." She whispered, "If my name was on the lease I'd fight for you to stay."

He shrugs and smiles at her. "It's fine. I'll be happy to be out from under his thumb anyways. You take care of yourself, right?"

She nods, "you'll visit?"

He smiles, "I'll visit you. We can meet at Milo's."

She nods and moves out of his way.

—

The new year starts off well and Bucky is relieved that school is relatively normal. They're sitting at lunch when they hear a commotion.

Bucky asks someone who passes by and the kid just shrugs, "dunno, some kid was yelling'."

"About what?"

The student rolls his eyes, "what do I look like, an encyclopedia?" Then walks off.

"Geez." Scott huffs, "let me go see if I can figure it out."

He comes back a while later and wrinkles his nose, "apparently some kid was getting too close for comfort with a teacher and the teacher sent them to the principal's office, but then the kid started yelling and throwing things."

"What?" Natasha asks, "what happened?"

"They sent the kid home. People who saw it said he was missing a few marbles I guess."

They nod and continue eating.

—

Natasha watches from up high as Bucky and Clint climb up towards her. She'd beat them because they'd been bickering about rope colors and she'd left them in the dust.

Her eye catches on Steve who is sitting at the bottom on a bench. He has a book out on his lap, but he's looking up at them climbing and smiling.

They'd offered to help lift him and get him up but he'd refused. "Too much pressure on my joints." He said causally, pulling out the book, "I like to watch anyways."

Now she watches as his eyes blink slower and slower until they close and she sees the way his shoulders drop in sleep just as Clint reaches her, beating Bucky by a few seconds.

She points down and they look. Bucky's lips purse and he sighs. "I've been noticing the exhaustion creep back in."

Clint nods, "Tony mentioned that his dad said something about a change in medication that didn't go so great. So now he's weaning off one to be able to start another."

"He;s happy though." Natasha says softly, "he's actually pretty happy."

Bucky watches as the book slides off of Steve's lap and onto the bench. Natasha was right, Steve is happy. Peggy is a big part of that, they know. She has a fire in her spirit that doesn't let you stay down for long. And Steve is infected by it, seeming more cheery and upbeat even through the days where the weird patches appear on his skin or he vomits. But Bucky can't help but feel anxious. Everytime Steve got happy… something always went wrong.

—-

Steve yawns as the subway rounds the bend back towards their stop. He, Bucky, and Nat get off and trudge towards the house, waving goodbye to Bucky as they walk up the steps.

"Have fun?" Sam asks, as he washes dishes.

"Uh-huh." Steve says with another yawn. "But I'm beat. I'll see you guys in the morning.

He leaves and Sma looks at Natasha, "he doing okay?"

She just shrugs, "I think so."

—

Steve hears the yelling and pops his head up from the quiz he is taking.

The teacher stands, looking concerned and walks to the door. She sticks her head out the door and the class stops, watching her.

After a few seconds, she looks at the class and shrugs, "go back to your quizzes."

They do.

—

Steve's sitting on the living room floor, attempting to do his math homework, when the front door opens.

He looks at the clock, 3:40p.m. So it's either Daniel or Peter.

He stands, stretching and walks out to the front entrance to see Peter half bolting up the stairs.

"Peter?" He calls.

The kid freezes, halfway up the stairs.

"Yeah." He calls back, his face angled weirdly away from Steve. Something about it makes his neck hairs stand up.

"Peter, are you okay?"

An even squeakier "yeah" makes Steve start walking towards the bottom of the staircase.

"Come here, Peter." He orders, voice getting serious, "What is wrong?"

"Steve, don't get mad!" Peter practically begs, keeping his face away from Steve.

"What happened?"

Peter turns slowly, stopping Steve in his tracks at the large black eye Peter is sporting.

His hand grips the railing tightly, making his fingers protest.

"What happened?" Steve growls, "who did this!"

"Just some jerk at school. It's fine I promise. It wasn't a big—"

"Peter!" Steve snaps, "this is a big deal! He could have seriously hurt you! What caused the fight?"

"Nothing." Peter squeaked, stepping another step away from him.

"Peter Parker, you tell me this instant."

The kid winces at his full name and sags on the step, "the bully in my clash, his name is Flash and he was being mean to my friend Ned, calling him mean names, and I told him to knock it off, so he shoved me, and I shoved back and then he did this." He gestures weakly at his face and sighs, "the teacher got there then and pulled us apart. Don't be mad."

Steve walks slowly up to him and sits beside him. "I'm not mad, Peter." He says softly, ruffling the kids hair, "I just don't like seeing you hurt. But I am proud of you for standing up to the bully for your friend. That was a cool thing to do. Just be careful next time. Maybe get a teacher first."

Peter looks at him and frowns, "you never get a teacher first."

Steve winces, "you got me there kid." He sighs and they sit quietly for a moment. "How about this, I promise to try to get a teacher first too, and we can both avoid black eyes. How does that sound?"

Peter nods and Steve looks at the bruising. He'd like to walk over to Peter's school and give that jerk kid a piece of his mind. "If that kid bothers you again though." Steve says seriously, "you tell me and I'll take care of it. Okay?"

Peter smiles at him, a trust filled smile that Steve returns.

—

March is almost over and the Spring Banquet is quickly approaching. Steve spends painstaking hours painting a gift for Peggy to ask her to the dance.

He asks her that Tuesday night and she accepts happily, pulling him in for a kiss before gushing over the painting of their 'spot' at the cafe. She and Natasha go dress shopping while Tony sends Jarvis to take their measurements even though they insist they can just rent one.

The date of the dance is 7 days away when Steve feels it. He takes a deep breath and can't seem to get enough air. He tries again, sitting up in his bed, about to go to sleep. He walks quietly to the bathroom and turns on the light. He blinks at the parlor of his skin. Too pale and not what he remembered it looking like just a few hours ago. He sits on the edge of the tub and tries to take steady breaths, but they're hard to pull in.

He tips his head back and sighs. The new medicine had been working for his heart, but had been causing random issues elsewhere. He'd been warned it might interact with his asthma medication… So he assumes that must be what this is.

He sighs and heads back to bed. He'll tell Sam in the morning.

—

Bucky taps his foot against the linoleum gym floor and watches as Natahsa talks to some of her friends. He looks at the empty chair next to him and frowns.

Steve had been planning all along to go to the dance. Until yesterday when he woke up and could hardly breathe or keep his eyes open.

Sam kept him home, following doctor's orders. Peggy is there with him now too, and Steve had insisted that he and Natasha still go since it was their senior year.

And it is fun, it is. He enjoys the social aspect of the dance, and he loves dancing with Natasha. He's just annoyed that something is always keeping Steve out of the fun.

The dance starts to wind down and he and Nat take one last twirl around the floor before interlacing fingers and walking home. He gives her his jacket and she walks close to him, his arm around her waist. The subway is quiet and so is the walk to the house.

They walk into the door and see Peggy's shoes still there. They head up to the room and see Steve, propped up and reading a book while Peggy lays beside him on the bed, fast asleep.

Steve looks up and smiles, "you guys have fun?"

"Yeah Steve." Natasha says, sitting gently on the edge of his bed, "we missed you."

Bucky watches something sad cross his expression before he wipes it away with another smile. "I missed going to. I'll go next year."

They nod and he gently brushes Peggy's hair back, "I feel bad that I asked her and then couldn't go."

Natasha shakes her head, "I'm sure she understands, Steve."

He laughs softly, "she does, I just still feel bad."

Bucky pulls at his tie, loosening it and sinking to the ground, "what do you think about School on Monday? You think you'll be up for it?"

Steve shrugs, "I hope so. I've already missed a good bit. I hate being so behind already."

The flu had taken Steve out of school for almost two weeks at the beginning of March.

"I'm sure you'll be fine." Natasha says with a smile. "Now you get some rest."

Steve yawns and goes to wake Peggy.

—-

He ends up not being up to it on Monday, but does manage it on Tuesday. He turns in a lot of missed assignments and watches as the teachers study him with knowing eyes. He's not sure what all they know, but they're usually very accommodating to his late work and make-up tests.

Steve walks to his art class that evening, his folio hanging heavily on his shoulder and he's two hallways away when he needs to sit down. He wheezes over to a corner and pulls out his inhaler, taking a few puffs before leaning back against the wall and trying to still his fast beating heart.

He feels a vibration and without looking, pulls out his phone and hits answer.

"I'm fine."

Howard's annoyed voice comes through, "then why is your heart rate so high?"

Steve shakes his head and glares at the tattle-tell watch. "Just went up a bunch of stairs, I promise I'm fine."

"This has been happening more often at mundane physical exhertions, Steve."

Steve frowns, "yeah, thanks for the reminder, Howard."

He can practically hear the wince Howard does, "No, I— I, Steve, I didn't mean to say it like that. You know I worry."

Steve lets out a wheezy chuckle and responds, "I'm nearing my expiration date, things are bound to go down hill."

"You know I hate when you joke like that."

"Gotta keep light-hearted somehow."

"Fine, but just remember to take it easy. Okay?"

"Will do, Howard."

—

Clint catches Steve watching him at work one day. He blinks at the kid and raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

Steve just shakes his head, "Nothing."

—

May is half-way over and Natasha has a dance recital coming up. She twirls nervously in front of the mirror as Yelena and Wanda both 'ooh' and 'ahh' at the way the fabric flows. They hear the door pop open and Sarah's head pops through the door.

"Dinner is ready— Oh, my! Natasha, you look beautiful!"

Natasha smiles and curtsies. "Why thank you."

"I can't wait to see you in action." The woman says, walking fully into the room, "I can't believe it's been over two years and I still haven't seen you dance."

Yelena sits up and stretches, "she's amazing. Our teacher says that she's the top of her age group. No competition."

"Lena, hush!" Natasha admonishes, but she can't help the grin that crosses her face, "I do love dancing." Then she points to Yelena, "but this girl kicks butt in our martial arts classes, I can't wait til your next belt ceremony."

Yelena squeals and shimmies in excitement, "me either!"

Sarah, never one to overlook someone, turns to Wanda, "and what do you love to do?"

Wanda ducks her head shyly, "I don't know… Everyone seems to have 'their thing'." The girl sighs, "Natasha's is dance, and Yelena's is martial arts and Pietro's track team captain and Steve has his art…" She looks down at her hands and shrugs, "I don't know what I'm good at."

Sarah walks over and lifts her head up by her chin, "don't go getting down on yourself now. You have plenty of time to figure out who you are and what you want to do. You hear? You are going to do something amazing in this world. I know it."

Wanda smiles and Sarah looks at the group, "now, dinner is ready and I'll not have it be gettin' cold. Let's go."

The younger girls follow her out as Natasha takes off her dance outfit. She stares at herself in the mirror for just a second longer and then takes a deep breath. Heading out the door and down the stairs to dinner.

—

Clint's walking to work on a Friday when he sees Steve standing outside the front door.

He calculates in his head that Steve should still be at school, and starts feeling concerned that something has happened. He picks up the pace and jogs over.

"Steve?" He calls, "Steve what's wrong?"

The kid looks up and studies him. "Clint."

Clint waves his hands, "what? What happened?"

Steve looks at him, studies him, and then starts speaking softly, "I, Uh… I have this feeling you're hiding something from us."

He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Steve, "oh, yeah? And what would that be?"

Steve doesn't respond or wither under his glare, not that Clint expects him too, because Steve has never cowed under pressure, but the calm way Steve looks back at him gets on his nerves. "What?"

Steve tilts his head and sighs, "you can tell me, you know."

And that makes Clint mad. "Oh yeah? I can tell you? Like you told us everything you were going through?" He feels annoyance but mostly embarrassment, not wanting to admit he'd been kicked out. "Don't be such a hypocrite, Steve. It's none of your business."

Steve is staring at him with wide eyes, mouth parted in surprise at Clint's angry reaction since Clint's never been one to let his anger get the best of him.

He watches as Steve's throat bobs and then his face settles into acceptance. "You're right, Clint. I'm sorry."

And that just makes Clint feel like shit because their situations are nothing alike. "No, Steve, I—"

But Steve holds up his hands, "no, you were right. I shouldn't have pried. I'm sorry." He starts to back up, giving a small wave goodbye but Clint lurches forward, stopping him. Because the lesson he wants Steve to take away is not that he should hide stuff, because Clint desperately doesn't want that.

"No. Steve. Listen, I'm not mad, I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Steve shakes his head, "Clint, you're right, it's none of my business, I get it. I shouldn't have assumed you would want to talk about it. I know what that feels like. To not want to talk about it."

Clint's fists push tightly against his jeans. It's true, he doesn't want to talk about it. But… if he wants Steve to talk about his problems, then he should too.

"How about a deal?"

Steve looks at him questioningly, "huh?"

"A deal. I get to ask you a question and if you answer honestly, I will tell you what's up."

Clint doesn't miss the wary expression on Steve's face, but Clint's been dying to ask this question for almost 6 months. "Uh, okay?"

"How many times have you been back to the dumpster?"

The surprise and then the shift to a blank expression on Steve's face makes Clint almost regret it. But he doesn't look away, doesn't give Steve an out.

"Clint—"

"How many times, Steve." Clint asks, "and why the hell are you going back there?"

"I don't—" Steve starts, and Clint raises an eyebrow. Because he's either about to say 'I don't go there', which Clint knows is a lie, or 'I don't want to talk about it' which would also prove Clint's point. Steve swallows thickly and falls silent, eyes on the ground.

"Exactly." Clint says with a bit too much smugness. "Exactly." He turns and starts to walk towards the entrance when he hears Steve's brittle voice.

"I've been there a lot."

Clint freezes, turning slowly to look at Steve who isn't looking at him, but eyes trained somewhere far down the street. "What?"

"I go there every year on the anniversary of the day they threw me in. I go there when I'm mad. I go there when I'm upset. I go there and a stare at that stupid hunk of metal and I wonder if it would have been easier for everyone else if I'd just died then instead of prolonging everyone's suffering now. Including my own." Clint's mouth is agape and Steve is still staring a thousand yards away. "I'm such a coward." Steve says hoarsely, "I know that. I know that I shouldn't wish that. I'm happy now. Honestly. I've got you guys, and Peggy, and Sam and my siblings. I have food to eat and a house that is safe and so many other things to be thankful for." Clint watches as Steve's chin trembles just slightly and then the kid has the palms of his hands screwing against his eye sockets, "But I hurt all the damn time, Clint—" Steve rasps, "I can barely breathe or see, my chest has a constant ache, I feel nauseous or light headed or just gross all the time. I can't even walk up a set of stairs without Howard calling me worried!" Steve growls in frustration, shaking the wrist of the watch Clint knows is monitoring him, and then he wipes angrily at the tears leaking out of his eyes, "I'm 17 and I can't even plan for a future because I won't get to have one! And here I am whining about something I can't change when there's other kids who have it so much worse—"

"Steve—"

"No!" Steve shouts, "I don't want your platitudes or pity or reassurance that it's fine that I feel this way! I don't want it. I don't want it."

"My dad kicked me out."

Steve's eyes, red and shocked, find his. "What?"

Clint nods, shifting his feet, "yep. Kicked me out."

And Clint watches as Steve completely switches gears, "but where are you living? Why did he kick you out?"

"I got an apartment over on that side of town." Clint says calmly, pointing in its direction, "and he just said it was time for me to be on my own."

Steve frowns, wiping at his face, "but what about school, weren't you saving for that?"

Clint nods, "yep."

"And now that money is going towards rent…"

Clint sighs, "yep…"

"I'm so sorry, Clint. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Stop going to that damn dumpster."

Steve grimaces and shakes his head, "Sorry, didn't mean to get hysterical there."

"No," Clint corrects, "that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying, when you feel like that, don't go to the dumpster, come talk to me, or to Sam, or to whoever the hell you want. I'll listen and I won't try to solve your problems. I'll just listen."

Steve looks at him then to the ground, "how long have you known?"

"I saw you go there after you visited your ma's grave."

Steve's mouth makes an 'o' shape and he scratches at the back of his neck. "That wasn't a super great day."

"I coulda guessed that. Aren't you supposed to be in school right now?"

Steve shrugs, "yeah, but I told Sam I was coming here. He was fine with it."

"That man lets you get away with a lot."

Steve laughs weakly, "I think he just understands that school is important but it's not the most important. Especially to me."

Clint frowns, "truancy is no joke mister. Think about your future."

Steve lets out a full laugh, clutching at his stomach and doubling over. Clint joins him, letting out some of the tension he's been holding for the last couple months.

Steve sucks in a lungful of air, almost gasping for breath. "That was a good one." He wheezes, "Howard would be so mad if he heard you say that."

"Howard needs to lighten up." Clint says fondly. Clint has noticed a large upswing in protectiveness and overbearing behavior from the rich tycoon in the last couple months.

"Tell him that." Steve groans in mock annoyance, "he's like a monkey on my back."

"I'm not telling that guy anything. He's rich and eccentric. I know that's a combination for crazy."

Steve laughs again, and Clint watches as Steve's face relaxes. "Thank you for telling me, Clint."

"Thanks for telling me." The Clint gets serious, "but seriously. Stop going there."

Steve grimaces and nods, "I'll stop."

"You promise?"

And there is a second too long hesitation where Steve pauses, "I—" he starts, swallowing heavily, "I promise."

"Good. Now I have to get to work."

"Will you show me your apartment sometime?"

Clint laughs, "it barely fits me, but I guess a scrawny kid like you can fit too."

Steve rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh, "not everyone can be built like you and Buck."

"I'm way bigger than Bucky."

Steve chuckles, "uh-huh, sure you are."

"I rescind my invitation to my apartment."

"Clint!" Steve gapes, laughing, "it's too late. I'm coming."

They talk for a few more minutes before Steve waves and leaves for school.

Clint walks into work and waves hello to Mr. Coulson, his manager, before getting ready to clock in.

—