It takes less than 16 hours for Steve to piss off Castle.

He's prepping them on the op, and talking strategies when Steve raises his hand.

"This ain't a classroom, kiddo."

Steve lowers his hand and then tilts his head, "so you just want me to interrupt you?"

Castle blinks, "no."

Steve's head tilts further, "so your solution to this is?"

And Clint sees it. The annoyance. "Just—" but he stops. Because everything Steve could do to get his attention would be adolescent, (hand raising, desk tapping, note passing) —Clint grins at the thought of Steve sliding a note across the desk to Frank Castle— or it would be an interruption. "Just wait till I pause."

"And if it can't wait?"

"Why can't it wait?"

"Just covering all the hypotheticals." Steve retorts. Bucky is pursing his lips and keeping his eyes on the table. Clint keeps nudging his boot to get him to look but he refuses. Coward, Bucky knows Clint would get him to laugh.

Blaze and Morita sit quietly, watching the exchange.

"If it can't wait, someone better be dying—"

"That's exactly my point. There will be times where we're not in a room around a table, are you the kind of guy who can be interrupted without losing his shit about it?"

Castle is just staring at Steve, and it clicks in all their minds that this is some sort of test from Steve. Testing Castle's leadership.

Well, Clint thinks, he's been burned (literally) by bad leaders before.

"If it's pertinent, you can interrupt me." Castle grits out.

"And if it's not immediate but I'd like to speak, how would you prefer I get your attention?"

Oof. Castle either has to backpedal or think up something new. Putting him on the defense.

"Just wait till I pause, then speak."

And damn, Clint wishes he'd backpedaled. He can see Steve's disappointment in that answer. Who cares if raising your hand is adolescent? It's effective. Everyone knows that. But Castle wanted to stay in control. So he chose to double down.

"Okay." Steve responds, his tone very clearly in disagreement.

Too bad.

Bucky looks up at him finally and there's the tiniest wince that Clint mirrors.

—

"Stop being a menace."

Steve looks up and Bucky is staring at him across the table, his tray in his hands.

"No." Steve responds, stabbing at the food.

"Yeah," Bucky snorts, "it was worth a shot. You get a package yet?"

"No," Steve responds, "Howard said sometime today. And I hope it's soon because I'm starving."

"He changing the recipe again?"

"That's what he said. I wish I had been smarter about rationing the ones I had."

Bucky's tray slides closer, "have mine, I'll be fine."

Steve glares at him, "that's not what i'm asking! I'm just hungry. It's not your fault, and I'm fine for a couple hours. I just—" he grimaces, "I keep worrying I'm going to be this hungry forever."

"I know." Bucky is nodding, looking sympathetic as he pulls back his tray and starts eating, "I know."

Another tray clatters and they look up to see Johnny Blaze. "You mind?"

Steve gestures no, and the guy sits. They're only on base until the op and then they move to a more classified house. So until then they're on army rations at LeHigh.

"You got an issue with Castle?"

Steve looks at him, trying to see if his face is judgemental or prying. But it seems like just genuine curiosity.

"No."

"Why the runaround?"

"You disagree?"

Blaze grins, "that's not what I asked."

"Then you already know my answer."

Johnny nods, picking up his fork, "I'm curious about how some orphan from Brooklyn turned gangster. I mean, hell, the dumpster story was mad, but now you're here, willfully questioning one of the most deadly men on the planet and you ain't even blinking an eye. How's that for guts."

Steve takes one second to process what he's just heard and his head turns slowly to Bucky whose eyes are also wide in surprise. Which means it wasn't him. The most likely culprit is still in line. Steve doesn't blink, he picks up his bread roll and throws it, hard.

"Ow!" Clint whines, turning around looking ready to sock someone. When his eyes catch Steve standing, very clearly having thrown the projectile, his shoulders drop, "what?"

Steve looks down, "how much did Clint tell you?"

"I assume everything. Castle wanted to know. Barton said he'd rather tell us than YouTube."

And that makes Steve pause. His immediate wrath turning to a simmering anger, "oh."

"Castle wanted to know why the hell a billionaire was invested in you. Led us down a rabbit hole."

Steve takes a deep breath, "oh."

Clint walks over, looking pouty, "what happened?"

But Bucky beats him to the punch, "Blaze spilled that you spilled. Dumpster and all."

Clint grimaces, "oh." Then he looks genuinely apologetic, "I figured that was better than—"

Steve holds up a hand, "okay. It's fine. I get it."

Then he sits back down and starts eating again.

Clint sinks down, and Steve ignores the worried look Clint's still giving him.

"You didn't answer my question."

Steve looks over, and Blaze is chewing on something.

"What question was that exactly?"

"I saw the before. I wanna know how we got to the now."

Steve quirks an eyebrow, "You're going to need to be more specific."

"You're taller." He studies Steve, "and I know growth spurts exists but this ain't that."

He feels Clint and Bucky tense, since the height change directly correlates with his death.

So Steve decides to tell the truth. "I died. And then Howard Stark gave me magic potion and Dr. Frankensteined me in some machine and then I was back to life and I've been growing ever since."

He stares at Blaze, a flat expression that gives nothing away.

Bucky and Clint both have gaped mouths and Blaze is looking back and forth, trying to gauge what he's just been told.

Then he grins, "thought I smelled my old pal death on you." Then he goes back to eating like nothing is amiss.

So Steve does too.

—-

"Who is that?"

Natasha looks up to see Whitney hanging over her shoulder looking at her lock screen.

She looks down to see the photo of Bucky kissing her cheek, "that's James." She says, not venturing further.

"He's your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

Whitney plops down, stretching her ankles, "how long have you two been dating?"

"Couple of years."

Whitney seems mildly impressed but just smiles, "hell of a long distance."

That makes Natasha sigh ruefully, "you can say that again."

"I know I'm a bitch."

Natasha looks up in surprise, the non sequitur throwing her for a loop. "Uh—"

"I'm not afraid to admit it," the girl continues, "in fact, it's what has gotten me this far." She gestures to the stage and the other dancers who are prepping for rehearsal, "I had to be cutthroat. The best. I had to fight for every ounce of attention." The blunt honesty makes Natasha wary, wondering what the purpose is, "so it's all to my surprise when I get here and I don't land the lead role."

Oh.

Natasha opens her mouth to respond, she's not sure with what, but the girl stops her anyways, "so I thought to myself, 'okay, that girl must be a bigger bitch than me.'" She grins at Natasha and Natasha has no idea how to respond to that, "but then, to my surprise and kind of dismay… you aren't a bitch at all." The girl nods as if relenting, "fierce, yes, competitive? Hell yes. But never a bitch. And I just… I don't know. It bugs me you know? How did you manage? What's your secret?"

"I don't know," Natasha shrugs, "it just happened."

The girl scoffs, looking annoyed, "getting into the Royal Russian Ballet didn't just happen. What, you bribe someone or sleep with someone?" Now her anger is actually rising. Who does this girl think she is— "You have a rich daddy who's got connections?"

The words stop Natasha short. Her anger deflating as the words sink in.

—rich daddy—

She feels her chest start to pound, her blood pulsing in her ears, did…. Howard? Natasha looks up at the girl and she knows she's probably got the strangest expression on her face.

The girl looks impatient, "what?"

She grabs her cell, "I have to make a call."

—

Tony looks down to see his phone ringing.

Scary Red Head

He grins. That was the name he'd assigned her during that first summer group and he had just never changed it.

"What's up, Nat?"

He expects something quippy or some biting greeting, but what he doesn't expect is silence.

"Nat?"

"Did—" her voice sounds unsure, hesitant. Something he doesn't associate with Natasha,

"Nat? What is it?"

"That night…" she starts slowly, "when that scout in the audience noticed me…"

Tony waits, slowly starting to realize where this was going.

"Did your dad… arrange that?"

Tony's immediate response is to deny. To say his dad wouldn't do that. But even as he thinks it, he knows that's not true. His dad absolutely would use his money and connections to help Natasha.

"I-I don't know." Tony responds, "if he did, he didn't tell me…"

There's a long pause, "if I asked him… would he tell me the truth?"

Tony lets out a chuckle, "my dad is a lot of things, but he's not a liar. At least not about this."

"Okay—" she sounds nervous, and for some reason Tony can't stand that. "I'll talk to you later—"

"Nat." Tony interrupts, "just so we're clear, even if my dad did pay for a scout to come see you, you earned it."

"I'll talk to you later." She responds, not addressing his statement, "bye."

The click of her hang up makes him sigh.

—

Bucky isn't sure who is more amused, him or Clint.

Each day Steve and Castle argue. Everyday it's like watching two mountains stare each other down.

They leave for the op tomorrow, their first as a team and Bucky already knows Castle's MO. He'd be easy to fall behind in a line. Trust him implicitly and follow every order because in all actuality, the guy is a smart tactician, and he is quick thinking on his feet, and so fist forward that everyone flinches back.

Except Steve.

Bucky is continually shocked at how many ways Steve can piss Frank off and secretly impress him at the same time.

Castle's strategy for the op is solid, and Steve still found a way to improve it. It's like he was born to plan. To see everything at every angle and anticipate it.

Guess that's what growing up in a house like Steve did does to you. Wary and watchful. Always looking for shifts and signs of changes and danger.

"I'm living."

Bucky looks over at Clint, who is smiling and chewing some unidentifiable snack. "Huh?"

"Seeing this?" He points to the way Castle is studying the map while Steve is pointing out details, "I mean, no one has ever questioned him to this level." Clint explains, "Blaze always gots a snide remark, or Morita with a piece of info that just came in. But the way Steve can manage to unsettle his whole plan just an inch and resettle it back?" His grin widens, "I dunno. I'm living for it."

Bucky watches as Castle stares and then sighs, nodding. His own smile grows, "it's so strange, you know? Seeing how Steve has changed," he shrugs, "I didn't expect us to be on a special ops squad that's for sure."

"What happened to Steve wanting to do art? I never asked."

"He said he can do artsy things anywhere or anytime."

Clint shrugs, "guess that's true." Then he looks at him, "what about you? You dropped out of MIT, that's not nothing."

There's a long pause before he feels ready to answer. "I don't regret it."

Clint raises an eyebrow, "oh?"

He's nodding now, feeling more settled, "yeah, I mean, at the end of my life, I'm not going to count up the years that I worked, you know? I'm not going to say, 'man, I wished I spent 4 more years as an engineer'." He taps at the table, "that's not what's going to be on the forefront." He gestures to Steve and then to Clint, "you guys will be, my family, Natasha and whoever else is in my life. Spending time with them, having lived and grown up with them. You. This is what I need to be doing now. MIT can wait. And if they don't… then that's up to them. But it wouldn't change my mind. I'd spend everyday wondering about you and Steve. I already spend half my time thinking of Natasha." He knows he's being a lot more open than usual. Showing a vulnerable spot to Clint, but the guy doesn't look at him funny or roll his eyes, just listens. "A job is a job. Of course I want one that I enjoy. But that's not the focus of my life. No one at my funeral is going to wax long about what school I went to or what kind of money I made from my high paying career because I made connections at MIT. They're going to talk about how I made people feel. Who I loved and spent time with. The difference I made in their lives. That's what matters."

Clint blinks at him and then a smile of amusement crosses his lips, "deep thinker there, Barnes."

He grins, "I planned out this whole argument for my parents. Lined up all the reasons they should let me drop out to join the army."

Clint laughs, quietly because Castle will glare at him if he's not, "and I'm guessing it was successful?" He gestures to the fact that Bucky is here.

Bucky shrugs, "never got a chance to use it on them. They both didn't even fight me."

Clint's head tilts, "not even at all?"

His shoulders dip up and down, "I expected them to be totally against it. And all they said was, while they want to make sure I have the best opportunities in life, and they believe MIT could be an avenue to that, they also know I'm going to make my own decisions as an adult. And they're not going to stand in the way."

Clint sighs, "damn. You got so lucky with your parents."

Bucky winces, "I know. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize because your dad is decent and mine is a dumpster fire."

"Still sorry. I know how lucky I am."

He feels his phone buzz and looks down to see his dad is calling him. He grins, "speak of the devil."

Clint waves at him to take the call, "tell him I said 'hi' and 'will he be my daddy, pretty please?'"

Bucky laughs and flips him off as he walks out the door.

—

"How's it going?"

Steve's glad Peggy can't see his face. "It's… different."

There's a thoughtful pause before her voice is slow, "different good? Or different bad?"

"Why am I so annoying?"

Peggy's voice is confused, "wait, what?"

"It's like I can't shut up." He grits out, "if I see something pointed south or something I don't agree with, it's like I can't not say something! I'm pissing Castle off and I know that and I can't even freaking help myself. And I don't want to be the annoying one on the team."

She's slow to respond, "has Castle called you annoying?"

"Not yet. But I know he thinks it."

"Is what you're saying necessary?"

It's a good question. And he thinks it through. The op they're leaving for in less than 6 hours is an informant extraction on a highly volatile area. High stakes for a first mission and Steve had felt like he had insight that had been vital to make sure the plan was solid.

"I think so."

"You think so?" Peggy makes an amused sound in her throat, "since when do you second guess yourself?"

The words strike him to the core. He's not one to second guess or back down. Not since Mrs. Schmidt that is. And that was only ever to protect the younger ones.

His lack of response prompts her to speak again, "Steve, if you think what you have to say is necessary, then say it. If what you have to say is going to help, then say it. And if you're really feeling out of sorts then speak to your team leader. That's what he's there for. Address that concern. But don't second guess yourself when you know you're correct. That's not like you. Just because no one else is saying something doesn't mean you should also remain silent. In fact it usually means you should speak up. And there hasn't been a moment where you've ever said something that I didn't understand your logic on. Not that I've always agreed, but you're not some loon spouting nonsense. Remind me why he picked you for an elite squad?"

"Strategy—"

"Exactly." She says firmly, cutting him off, "you're worried about doing exactly what he hired you to do. If he has a problem, then he needs to say something. Has he?"

"No, but—"

"But nothing. No one likes being corrected. So sure he may be less than amused. But that doesn't mean he thinks you're incorrect either."

Steve takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, "I miss you so freaking much."

He can hear the smile in her voice, "oh my darling the feeling is mutual. The minute you have a spare moment you must come visit."

"I will," he promises. Then he pauses and he finally feels a bit more at ease, "Thanks."

"Anytime." She says and he just knows she's smirking, "I love to boost your spirits any day."

"Just talking to you does that."

"I'm glad. I love you, I'll talk to you when you get back?"

"I'll call you as soon as I can."

"Steven?" And her voice gets serious as she calls his full name, "stay safe. That's an order."

"Yes, ma'am." He responds easily with a smile. "I wouldn't dare disobey and order from you."

They exchange goodbyes and he hangs up.

"That the girl from the graduation?"

His heart leaps in his chest and he turns, finding Castle standing at the far side of the room, a stack of files in his hands.

Steve's shocked. He hasn't been sneaked up on since his hearing got sent to the max.

"Sir?" He asks, feeling caught off guard.

"I'm not annoyed at you." Castle states, letting Steve know just how long he's been listening. "I'm annoyed at myself for not having seen what you pointed out earlier."

Realization strikes, "oh…"

"Okay…" Castle grins, "that's technically a lie. I was pissed off at you. But then it turned into me being annoyed at myself. But never stop saying what you think you need to say. That's why I hired you."

He nods, "yes, sir. I shouldn't have challenged you about the other thing. The hand raising thing."

Castle looks at him and is silent for a long time, but then he shakes his head slowly, "I wish that was true. Because I don't like being challenged. And I especially don't like it when I'm in the wrong. But no, I'm just not used to someone who sees different or better strategies than me. When you've been at the front of the game for a long time it's difficult to watch a kid—" he grins, "— no offense, show you up. So keep challenging me." He turns ready to leave, "can't promise I won't be pissed off, but I can promise I will still listen."

Then he's gone, and Steve is left standing there in disbelief.

—

Bucky hears the whiz of the bullet as it zings past his ear.

Everything up until that moment had felt… he doesn't know, not real maybe. Like a game. Like he was training and just practicing and just prepping.

But it was never real.

Not until right now. Where the bullet flies so close it's centimeters from ending his life.

His adrenaline shoots up even as he freezes for a millisecond. Then training takes over and he ducks, rolling to the side and settling back into position, rifle on his shoulder and returning fire.

The shooting in his direction stops.

And he doesn't process what that means. Not right now. Can't think of that right now. That's not what he needs to focus on right now.

He just shifts his rifle, using the scope to check on his team down in the village below. He fires again.

And again.

And he just doesn't think about it.

Now right now.

—-

Clint watches as Steve holds out his hand to the woman. Blood drips from below Steve's eye as the informant, the woman before them, had come out swinging, worried it was one of the hostiles.

But Steve had barely even reacted, just flinched back, (not far enough) and Clint had heard the suck in of air as he'd taken the knife to the cheek.

There'd been a bit of tension rising as everyone reacted on instinct but Steve had held his hand up to calm Clint and Blaze, the only other two in the room.

"We're here to get you out of here."

The woman, not speaking English, just stares at him.

Steve clicks his comms, "Morita, tell me how to say—"

He listens to something because he pauses and then slowly repeats something in a different language.

The woman's entire body sags in relief and the knife clatters to the ground. Steve extended hand waits and she only hesitates a moment longer before grabbing it.

And he sees Steve smile. "Come on, let's get you somewhere safe."

Even though the woman doesn't understand the actual words, she must understand the sentiment because she nods and looks relieved, smiling back.

Steve stays by her side the whole transport, and she seems to trust him more than the others, even when Morita, who speaks the language, meets up with them, she doesn't leave Steve's side.

He seems perfectly at ease with her, staying calm and using Morita as a translator, keeping her spirits up and making her comfortable.

The woman, probably in her 40's, keeps her hands clutched in her lap, and then blurts something out.

Steve blinks and then looks at Morita, who grins, "she says sorry for cutting you." He points to Steve's face, the slice still very visible although no fresh blood is seeping out.

But Steve just smiles and shakes his head, Morita translating for him as he speaks, "don't you worry ma'am, this little scratch was worth it to get you somewhere safe."

The woman nods, curling in on herself and starting to cry as the tension and stress of the situation really starts to unravel the further away they get.

Steve gently takes her hands, holding them in a gesture of comfort, and Morita hands over a couple tissues.

The woman clears her throat and looks at all of them before shakily speaking, "I t-thank you."

Her watery English makes Steve smile brightly and he pats her hands, "no thanks needed, ma'am, that's why we're here."

And it settles in Clint's gut. A wry realization that Steve was right all along.

This is what he's supposed to do.

—-