Clint is sprinting, flying past people who give him annoyed glances and scoffs but he doesn't pay them any attention. He slides around a corner and hops over a slowing down taxi hood as he races across a street.

He glances at his phone, getting closer to Steve's last location ping when he hears the siren 'whoop' once. He's bolting around a corner when a cop car goes past, someone in the backseat, and his heart stops in his chest.

Then he hears Steve's voice.

"—glad it worked." He hears Steve's laugh, "lucky aim."

A woman is half babbling, emotion thick in her throat and Clint rounds the alleyway. A small crowd is gathered and Steve's in the middle, leaning against something as he talks to a lady who's maybe in her early 30's.

His brain is having a hard time catching up as he pushes gently through the crowd into the circle. Steve looks up and smiles, "hey Clint, sorry for the false alarm."

"What happened?" Clint asks hoarsely.

The woman smiles and taps on Steve's shoulder, "this young man saved me from some lowlife trying to steal my purse!" She holds up the now slight mangled looking leather bag. "I screamed for help and the next thing I knew the guy was falling over!" She laughs a bit hysterically, adrenaline probably still pumping hard through her veins.

"Who knew this was a multipurpose tool, huh?" Steve asks with a smile as he holds up his cane. Clint can see the bend in the metal where it must have hit the guy.

"You—" Clint starts, "you're okay?"

Steve laughs, "I am, bit tired, but I'm fine. He went down with one solid hit. I'm just lucky I hit the right spot."

"You really saved the day, Steve." The woman says, and Clint feels off-kilter as a police officer walks up and asks for them to come down-town and get their statements.

—

Clint sits a bit in shock as Steve finishes up his statement. The woman hugs Steve fiercely before her husband or boyfriend or whoever showed up to pick her up comes through the door. The man shakes Steve's hand and tries to offer Steve money but Steve waves him off, "just doing what anyone else would do."

They say their goodbyes and Clint stands as the police officers inform Steve that he's finished.

Steve nods and stands, wobbling slightly on his now warped shape cane. Clint's at his side in a second and they make it down the stairs and out the door into the now dying afternoon light.

"Sorry for the crazy call." Steve says with a wry smile, "I didn't mean to freak you out."

Clint shakes his head as they make their way back to the subway line, "you gave me a heart attack, but I'm glad you called." He pauses thinking back to the voicemail, "You said something about promising Peter?"

Steve chuckles softly, "Yeah, he uh, came home with a black eye one day and I got after him for not going to a teacher and then he threw the fact that I never went to a teacher or asked for help in my face so I promised him I'd start trying to do that."

"Hell, if Peter asking you to do things is what works I might have to start funneling requests through him."

Steve shoves his shoulder and he moves sideways even though the strength behind the push was negligible.

—-

They tell Sam who looks half impressed and half wary as Steve seems very calm and relaxed while telling the story.

"I'll need to grab a new cane." Steve says with a tired yawn. "But I should be fine for the next day or so."

"Howard has more." Sam says quickly, "I'll text him."

Steve shrugs, "okay, I'm heading to bed."

Clint looks at the clock. It's not even 8 yet.

"Okay." Sam says, "sleep well."

Steve gives a small salute as he slowly climbs the stairs.

"Should he be living upstairs still?" Clint asks.

Sam snots, throwing Clint an annoyed look, "you think I haven't brought that up to him? You wanna try to convince him to move downstairs away from the other kids? Be my guest."

Clint grimaces, "gotcha."

Sam's washing the dishes and Clint can tell something's bothering him.

"What is it, Sam?"

The man is drying his hands with a dish towel. "I just…" he sighs, tossing the towel onto the kitchen counter, "I hope this doesn't go to Steve's head."

Clint's brow furrows, "what do you mean?"

"We keep trying to convince him to take it easier, to stay out of high stress situations, to avoid things exactly like today to avoid getting hurt. And here he is, unharmed and having successfully protected someone." Sam scrubs at his face, "it sounds horrible, but I'm worried it will give him overconfidence the next time. Not every mugger will go down like today. Maybe next time they fight back, maybe next time they hurt him."

Clint sits there quietly. Processing what Sam was saying. Steve being successful today makes him more likely to step in again next time. Maybe next time doesn't go so great.

He winces and Sam slides into a kitchen table. "There's nothing I can say to convince him otherwise anyways."

And Clint knows that's true.

—-

Steve hears the doorbell ring.

"Hey Howard." He hears Sam say.

Steve grabs his backpack and slowly makes his way to the landing and then the stairs. Howard stands there with a new cane looking at him with a narrowed eyes.

"Hey Howard." Steve says, "thanks."

"You're beating up muggers now?"

Steve laughs, his brain tells him to take the first step down the stairs, but his hands grip the railing and his knees tell him that's a bad idea. So he pauses. "Didn't go looking for it."

"How does it always find you? I'm a billionaire and I've never been with one block of a mugging."

Steve pretends to be amused as he tries to convince his aching hip to move, "well, I guess I'm just lucky."

Sam snorts, "you and I describe luck very differently."

The two men share a laugh and then look up the stairs. Steve feels his heart beat faster as their looks go from amused to concerned. "Steve?" Howard asks, "you planning on coming down those stairs?"

"Yep." He responds quickly, "just enjoying the view."

Sam's eyes go narrow and he crosses his arms over his chest, "having some trouble there?"

Steve forces his left foot forward, ignoring the way his knee and hip protest. He sets it on the first step and then somehow manages to stay upright as he slowly makes his way down. He finally hits the landing and then the last few steps to the ground. "Nope." He says a bit too breathlessly. "No trouble at all."

He snatches the cane softly from Howard's hands and walks to the door. He can feel their eyes on his back as he opens the front door, but the cane steadies him and he doesn't look back as he walks out, "see you guys later!"

The door shuts before either of them respond.

—-

Natasha ices her feet, sighing at the coolness as she rests her head against the cool tile. "You good?"

She looks up to see her roommate, a nice if not a bit off girl named Dottie, smiling at her from the bathroom doorway.

"I'm fine." Natasha groans, "just a rough day in ballet."

THe girl nods, "I'm sure, I've heard her class is killer. Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do, thanks."

Her phone buzzes.

She smiles at the text.

B: I miss you. Tony is no substitute for your company.

N: I would hope not. What's up in Boston?

B: Nothing much. Got this huge engineering midterm coming up.

N: You'll do great. 3

B: Thanks. I hope so

B: Can't wait to see you soon

Natasha flips to her phone's calendar counting the days,

N: just 12 more days.

B: Can't come soon enough

—

Steve waits anxiously at the subway platform. His weight leaning heavily on the cane. He hears the telltale rattle of the tracks and movement of air.

The cars blow past, brakes screeching as it slows down. The doors hiss open and the rush of the crowd starts to surround him. He looks, moving his eyes back and forth searching for her, hoping he won't miss her. He'd wanted to be a surprise.

Then she's there, stepping off, a bag draped over her shoulder and a jacket draped over her arm. He walks forward, a bit stiffly, stepping around people as best he can till he reaches out from behind her and snags her wrist, pulling her towards him.

"Hey-"

A fist to the nose is the last thing he knows before he hits the tile and things go fuzzy.

—-

Not even 30 second later he blinks, coughing at the blood pooling in the back of his throat.

Peggy is practically hysterical as she wipes at his face and is kneeling beside him on the tile.

"—Steve, I'm so sorry! I didn't even look, I'm so sorry-" her hoodie sleeve wipes under his nose again and he winces at the contact. She yanks her arm away and is cupping his face again, "are you alright?"

A small crowd is gathered around as he attempts to sit up. She helps him, leaning him against the nearest pillar.

"I'm okay." He says a bit dazed, "I'm fine, I think."

She's staring at him with such remorse and guilt that he tries to smile, but then the pain shoots through his face and he grimaces. "Ow." He huffs, "you got me good."

"Oh for bloody—!" She starts, "I cannot believe I decked you, I'm so sorry—"

"Peggy," he starts, cutting her off, "I grabbed you on a New York City Subway. I should have thought about that ahead of time—"

"Yes, but I could have looked—"

"No." He insists. "I'm glad you protected yourself. Lesson learned. I won't surprise you by grabbing you." He tries to chuckle but the action hurts and his eyes water from the stinging pain.

"They're going to be so cross at me." She says softly, guilt saturating her face, "first day of fall break and I've given you a phenomenal pair of black eyes."

"They won't." He insists, shifting against the pillar, "it's my fault for grabbing you." Then he pauses, "is it already bruising?" She winces and he huffs out a laugh, "that's a great right hook you've got."

The weary smile is only there momentarily, "never dreamed I'd use it on you."

He reaches out, grabbing her hand. "Come on, help me up. Let's get back so I can clean up before the others see."

She helps him up, getting his cane so he can stand. "Steve, I just really am sorry—"

"Peggy, stop apologizing."

They walk slowly out of the subway and to his house.

—

Natasha's just set her stuff in her room when she hears the door open. Sam had told her Steve had gone to pick up Peggy so she rushes out the door hoping it's the two of them returning.

It is.

She gapes from the middle of the staircase as Steve and Peggy walk through the door. Steve has blood covering his face and shirt and it's on Peggy's hoodie.

"What the hell!" She shouts, dropping down the last stairs and coming to a halt in front of them. The blossoming bruises spreading from Steve's nose to both of his eyes make her hands clench in anger, "who did this!"

Steve's holding up a placating hand but Peggy looks anguished as she speaks before Steve can. "I did, I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was him and I punched first and looked second—" Natasha can feel the guilt radiating off her.

"Peggy," Steve says with a wry laugh, "it's fine! It was my fault."

"No, Steve—"

"Guys." Natasha snaps, "explain?"

Steve starts, "I wanted to surprise Peggy at the subway and I accomplished that goal. I grabbed her wrist, and she slugged me, thinking I was some creep. Rightfully so, I don't know what I was thinking."

Peggy looks ready to protest but the door opens again and Bucky and Tony walk in, "Hey party people!" Tony says loudly, Natasha watches as Steve winces, looking down at his blood covered self.

Bucky comes over, hugging and spinning her around. She laughs as he sets her down and kisses her quickly before turning them towards the group. She can feel the intake of breath as he's about to say something when it dies in his throat at the sight of Steve.

"Buck—" Steve says quickly, "It's not what it looks like, I promise."

Bucky's entire body tenses but Natasha holds him tightly, "calm down." She says, "he's telling the truth."

Peggy looks like she wants to sink into the floor. "It's my fault."

"What's your fault?" Tony asks, still behind where Steve is standing.

Bucky's eyes are trained on Steve and it's quiet as Tony walks around the group and looks at Steve. His eyes bug out and then his hands go to his hips, "what the hell happened?"

Steve sighs and gestures to himself, "it looks worse than it is. I was stupid and grabbed Peggy trying to surpirse her on the platform and she thought I was some creep grabbing her so she punched me. Honestly I'm kind of impressed." Natasha watches as Steve stares at Peggy practically with heart eyes and Peggy covers her face with her hands, shaking her head.

"I've punched my boyfriend." She bemoans.

Tony's hand goes under Steve's chin, lifting it to the light, "geez Steve…" he pauses, "how long ago did this happen?"

Steve's head tilts, not even bothered by the hand grabbing his chin, "dunno, maybe less than 20?"

Tony nods, pulling his hand book, but there's a guarded look to his eyes that Natasha doesn't like.

"Hey, what's the commotion?!" Sam's voice carries from the kitchen as he walks closer. When he gets there, his eyes land on Steve and he stares at him like he's been slapped.

Steve sighs, "I need to send out a group text because telling this story is going to get old."

Peggy groans and Steve chuckles, pulling her closer.

—-

Clint receives a text and he has to read it 5 times to ensure he understood it correctly.

It isn't until a picture dings through, a group picture, that he believes it. Steve is smiling at the camera, eyes already dark and bruised. Peggy stands behind him, a hand covering her eyes in disbelief. Bucky and Tony and Natasha all surround Steve and are pointing to his face with disbelieving wry grins on their faces.

Sam stands behind Peggy, a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Geez-la-fucking-wheeze." Clint huffs out quietly, staring at his phone.

—

Howard says nothing about the bruises. Only shakes his head and raises an eyebrow at Peggy who hasn't let Steve out of her sight since the subway platform.

—-

The whole group is at Milo's. Pepper, Peggy, and Laura had had to take off after the meal, but they'd promised to be at the movie theater that night after seeing their families.

Bucky sits listening as Clint recounts some stories from his classes. Tony quips in his own stories and soon they're laughing and talking and time passes faster then they realize.

"Geez, it's already 7:45." Natasha says, "can't believe how late it's gotten."

Suddenly Steve leans forward and goes, "What!? It's past 4:45!? I gotta go!" He looks at them expectantly, like he's waiting for them to laugh. When they don't he frowns, "come on, that's funny."

Natasha rolls her eyes, "you joking about being abused is not funny."

Steev huffs leaning back, "I mean, I thought it was. But okay."

Clint snorts, crunching up a chip bag, "I can't believe that was what four years ago? When Steve was somehow smaller than he is now?"

That elicits a laugh from the group and Steve rolls his eyes, "Oh sure, you guys can laugh at my size but I can't joke about Mrs. Schmidt."

"Yep." Natasha says, reaching over and ruffling his hair.

Steve swipes at her hand but he laughs, "man…" his eyes grow soft and he looks at all of them, "you know…" his face goes earnest and he lays his hands, palm up on the table, "I don't think I ever thanked you guys for everything you did. You guys saved me and I don't think I ever said 'thank you'." He looks at each of them and even through the black and blue bruises his face lights up, "thank you guys, for everything. For rescuing the kids and me and getting Sam."

Natasha lays her hand in his and smiles, which he returns. Clint is quick to place his hand in Steve's other palm and Bucky follows, placing his on top of Natasha's. Tony reaches his hand out, hovering it over Clint's.

"First—" he says matter of factly, "you don't owe us a thank you. But second—" he lays his hand down on Clint's and stares at the group, "I think we can all agree the feeling of being saved is mutual."

Steve looks at him, "what do you mean?"

But Clint answers first. "I was a punk, a real waste of space, but meeting you guys, I started to see who I wanted to be. Quitting smoking, letting my stepmom in my life, reconnecting with my uncle—" he gestures to the man helping behind the counter, "that all happened after you guys came into my life."

Steve's eyes are wide but Natasha jumps in, "meeting you gave me the strength to take Yelena and leave our house. I saw what you did and I knew I wanted better for us. Now we're in the best home ever."

Steve's eyes look like their getting red when Tony speaks up, "me and my dad…" he sighs, "we were always at each other's throats, but you brought us together. Gave us a common enemy and a goal to accomplish together. And ever since then we've been good. More than good. Hell, he's asking for help on projects from me. I never thought he'd do that. But now we're like a team. You started that."

Steve hangs his head, hiding his face and Bucky feels his heart clench, he rests his other hand on the back of Steve's neck.

"I don't get to say anything?"

Steve glances up at him, eyes wet, and he feels his own throat tighten. "Steve, as much as it pisses me off how often you get hurt, I've never doubted a second your strength or your intentions. Being friends with you has made me better. You hold yourself to such a high standard. Makes me wanna be like you."

Its maybe a bit more sappy than the others, but he knows it's true. And the firm grasp from Natasha tells him she agrees. Steve looks back down, his hands grasping theirs tightly and they sit there in companionable silence for awhile.

—

"Move your arm!" Tony growls.

"Nope." Clint quips, "I sat down first, therefore the armrest is mine to claim."

"Shh!" Natasha hisses, nudging Clint's side.

"Ow!" He yelps, leaning away from her sharp elbows.

Steve rolls his eyes and focuses back on the screen where some commercial about dancing soda is playing.

"How's your nose?" Comes a soft voice.

"Peggy, you asked me that like 20 minutes ago." He responds with a huff, "I'm fine."

She squeezes his hand and lays her head on his shoulder, "I feel awful. I think Howard was going to take a group photo this fall break."

"He's welcome to still." Steve says with a laugh, "let's not pretend I don't look like this fairly often."

"Hush." She sighs, "you're impossible."

"I think I look cool." He jokes.

"You don't." Tony says easily, passing him a box of skittles, "you look like that kid you and Bucky punched last year that first week."

Steve winces when Peggy looks at him sharply, "you what?"

"He deserved it." Bucky says from a few seats over. "Guy was an asshole."

Steve shrugs and looks at the skittles in his hands.

"You both punched him?"

Clint speaks through a full mouth, "Bucky punched him first when he was being a jerk about Steve. Then Steve got on Bucky's case for punching him and then the kid bad mouthed Bucky and Steve went berserk on him too."

Steve scoffs as the movie theater dims, "I did not go berserk."

The group laughs and he shakes his head as the opening titles cross the screen.

—

They're sitting in the living room at Tony's house. Tony's helping Bucky with some engineering homework as Natasha lays next to him on the ground, a textbook on her lap as she seems to be counting out a beat, using her fingers.

Clint is against a wall, his legs splayed out in front of him, head drooping as he tries to stay awake.

Steve's on his stomach, finishing up a paper he'd missed the deadline for when he was out with a bad fever last week.

He looks up when he feels eyes on him. Howard stands at the doorway, leaning against the frame and smiling. Steve smiles back and the man clears his throat, "snacks anyone? Jarvis told me the cooks made some cinnamon muffins."

Everyone voices their assent and Steve shakes his head 'yes' even though his stomach is a bit nauseous at the moment.

They hear a knock and soon Peggy is walking into the room, "hello," she greets them, sitting by Steve's side and running her hand through his hair. "Your face looks improved."

Bucky snorts at that comment and Steve pretends to be offended. The group laughs and gets back to work.

—-

"Come on, Steve, if I do your session today then you don't have to come the rest of the week."

Steve groans, "can't I just skip this week altogether?"

"No." Bucky says firmly. "No skipping."

Steve grumbles, "easy for you to say. You're not the one being poked and prodded by the crazy scientist here."

Howard scoffs, gesturing to himself, "I prefer eccentric, thank you."

Tony stands, "come on, we'll all go down there and keep you company. Make sure my dad doesn't get carried away."

Steve looks up at Peggy who looks at him with a slightly raised eyebrow, not pushing him either way. He huffs. "Fine."

—-

Howard holds the vial of his blood and puts it in the small fridge that holds the other samples.

"Drink up." Tony urges, pushing the Gatorade bottle up to his face. Steve frowns but takes a small sip, feeling very tired.

"Okay," Howard says easily, "now I just need a—" he looks over at the white board and flips it over, revealing a bunch of equations and writings that look foreign to Steve. He starts rambling and gesturing to the board and Bucky laughs,

"Are we supposed to understand what you're saying?"

Howard waves him off, continuing to talk and work through his equation verbally.

"Just ignore him." Steve and Tony say at the same time. They look at each other and burst out laughing. Steve's lungs wheeze at the exertion but he can't stop.

Tony wipes at his eyes, "that's how you know you've been around my dad for too long."

Steve chuckles, taking another sip of Gatorade when he looks at Peggy ready to ask her a question.

But she's staring intently at the board, a hand covering the bottom half of her face as she stares at it.

"Peggy?" He asks, curiosity growing, "what is it?"

She doesn't answer, just stepping forward and without a thought, plucks the marker out of Howard's hands and makes a notation on one of the equations.

He sputters at her but then stops, staring at what she wrote. "What in the hell? I didn't know you were scien—"

"I've seen these equations before." She says softly, eyes still trained to the board. "They're not exactly the same, there's some differences, but…" she moves her fingers, ghosting over the numbers, "you're working on a formula?"

Howard's eyes narrow, "what's going on? How'd you know that?"

She turns to him, eyes alight and excited, "Dr. Erskine was working on something similar!" She leans forward, resting a hand on the table besides her, "I didn't work with it much, it wasn't really my field, but he and Dr. Banner were working very diligently on some sort of serum or formula or something, for cancer I think, or I thought, I'm not sure I didn't ask!" She turns to Howard, "you must call him."

Howard stares at her stunned, "Abraham? He's working on a health formula?"

"He must be!" She insists, pointing at the board, "I've seen these before!"

Howard's mind is racing and Peggy's face is beaming and Steve feels a sense of hope rising wildly in his chest.

—-