He hasn't been in his room for more than three minutes when he hears a knock.

Bucky turns to find Castle standing under his door frame.

"Yes, sir?"

"On a scale of 1 to 10…" Castle starts, "how much do you want to punch a wall?"

"Sir?"

The man steps closer, eyeing Bucky in a way that makes him feel exposed. "You just shot 6 men. For the first time ever. Death was just caused by your hands. And no matter how much they may have deserved it, 6 bodies dropping like dolls isn't something you will soon forget. So. I repeat. How much do you want to punch a wall?"

Bucky stares into the man's eyes and all he sees is understanding.

"A lot."

"Good." Castle responds, surprising him, "men who kill just to kill and feel nothing for it are a danger. Men who are angry they've had to kill are who I want on my team. You're young. I don't want you getting desensitized."

That nausea that's been plaguing him since he got up from his perch rolls again. "I don't think that's a possibility, sir."

"Good." He gestures to the wall, "other than walls, what can I do?"

"Don't tell Steve."

Castle tilts his head, "don't tell him what? The guy was watching you the whole way back after the drop off. He already knows you're feeling off."

That surprises him, "oh."

"He hasn't come to you yet because I ordered him not to. Wanted to talk to you first."

"Oh."

"Is that going to be an issue?"

Bucky looks up at him, "is what?"

"You guys are obviously close. Barton said brothers but I assume that's more in bond than in blood. And I'm all for loyalty. But I don't want to have to worry that you or he would go off the rails if we lost one of you."

The thought paralyzes him. He knows death is a possibility. But not a reality. He can't imagine dying or losing Steve or Clint.

Castle steps closer, his eyes narrowing, "if Rogers died would you stay on this team?"

He glares, "if Steve is dead then I probably am to."

"Why's that."

"Because I'll die before I let anything happen to him."

Castle raises an eyebrow, "okay, sort of dramatic, but I guess you're big brother Barnes." Then he leans in, "what about the dumpster, huh? You didn't stop that from happening."

Bucky feels the blood drain away from his face and he steps back, "that was different."

"How."

"I—" Bucky's voice cuts off and he can't think of anything to say.

Castle just raises his hands in surrender, "I came to ensure you knew I was here if you needed anything. I remember my first kills. It brings up a lot. Didn't mean to interrogate you. Just know… you're as important to this team as Rogers. And I don't need either of you making the sacrifice play for each other. Just… be smart."

Then the guy retreats and Bucky is left standing alone.

—-

"How was it?"

Steve takes a deep breath, "I'm fine."

Peggy is quiet for a moment before her tone takes on a sort of firm quality, "that's not what I asked."

Steve stares at the wall. He'd been feeling really good about the op. Confident in how it had went. Then they'd ensured a safe drop for the woman and headed back home.

He'd been content with it. Until he'd looked at Bucky.

The haunted and faraway look in his eyes.

Steve had replayed the whole mission in his head.

And as he thought about the way they'd gotten the woman, and gotten her out. The realization struck.

When the plane landed and Bucky practically bolted from the cargo bay, he'd stepped out after him, only to be jolted to a stop by a hand on his arm.

Steve had looked up, Castle looking at Bucky's receding back, "I'll talk to him first." Castle had said, "if you don't mind."

"Okay…"

Then Castle had left to go follow after Bucky.

"I think…" he starts, trying to figure out in words, "Bucky's… they call it a body count. Well. They don't. Blaze does. But his started today."

"Oh…" her voice changes a bit, "did yours?"

"Less than his."

"I see." He hears her clear her throat, "well, feeling fidgety about taking life is preferred to no feelings at all. But I'm sure you'll be there for him. And him for you. And I'm here. Whenever you need me."

"I always need you."

He can hear her smile, "if you were here I'd kiss you."

"If you were here I'd let you."

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Everyone thinks, feels, and experiences life differently."

His response is slow, unsure with where she's going with this, "I know that…"

"Barnes is allowed to be upset about taking life. Even if it was the right thing to do."

"I know that." Steve insists.

"Don't go try to cheer him up by saying he did the right thing."

Steve pauses, "okay, I won't." Then he sighs, "and why not?"

"Because even though it's true, it won't actually make him feel better, and he's not going to feel like he can express what he's actually feeling if he believes he should just grin and bear for the sake of the mission and what is 'right'."

"Okay, I'm hearing the wisdom there. What should I do instead?"

"Just listen."

"And if he doesn't want to talk?"

"Steve. There have been plenty of things you haven't wanted to talk about. What did Barnes do in those times?"

"Try to force it out of me."

She laughs and then he can just picture her shaking her head, "okay, and when that didn't work because you're stubborn as a bull?"

"He just stuck around. Waited."

"Exactly. Just be there. Support. Verbal or not."

"Tell me why I'm on this team and you aren't?"

"Because I'm too busy."

Now it's Steve's turn to laugh and he lets some of the tension he's been holding escape through that.

"Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"Is your laugh deeper?"

"I don't know, is it?"

"Are you noticing other changes? I know Howard was mentioning you might."

"Yeah," Steve stifles a yawn, "now that I'm not expending so much energy on marching and push-ups and physicality, I've started to grow. Again."

"Please tell me you're not getting taller."

He winces, "I think I am."

She sighs a humor filled sigh, "I suppose I must live with it. Any other changes?"

His fingers trail to his elbow, "the burn is starting to fade."

She's quiet for a moment, "the one on your elbow?"

Steve nods even though she can't see it, then he clears his throat, "yeah. It started to stretch when I was first growing, now it seems to be fading."

"Well good riddance I say. But I'm sorry if you're not happy about it. I know… I know you were worried."

"Nah," Steve replies, "I've come to peace with it. I'm okay with them being gone."

"What about the words?"

"Still there. But they seem lighter too."

"The bullet wounds?"

"Still there. No idea how much will actually heal."

"Well, whatever it is, I'm just excited to see you again. When will that be?"

"I'm hoping we get Christmas off, but maybe Thanksgiving beforehand?"

"Sounds lovely. I've got to go, but you'll call me soon?"

"Whenever I can."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

—-

It almost goes to voicemail before he answers.

"Hello?"

"Hey," she says with a smile, relieved to hear his voice, "you're back."

"Yeah, we're back on base."

There's a strange quality to his voice, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah."

Too quick. Too avoidant.

"James. Don't lie to me. Is Steve okay?"

A snort, "he's fine."

"Okay, are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I killed people on this mission, Nat. I put a bullet in them and I watched them drop."

"Oh…" she responds, the brittleness of the answer making her wince, "I see."

He doesn't respond.

"And you're… regretting signing up?" She asks. Not pointedly. Not as a jab to get him to 'get over it' or 'see the big picture'. But she's genuinely asking.

"I don't know." He responds quietly. "Maybe." And she recognizes the tone. The helpless flat way he sounded when Steve was missing in a dumpster and they didn't know. The same tone when Steve was dead in the hospital.

"No one would judge you if you quit."

Another derisive snort, "I don't know if that's true. And…" his voice gets quieter, "me quitting now won't bring them back to life. Won't undo what I did."

"That's true…" she concedes, "but it would keep from adding to the way you feel."

"I—" she hears a door open.

"Bucky?"

"Hey Steve—"

"Oh you're on the phone, I'll come back."

"Talk to him." Natasha urges, "I'll talk to you later, I love you."

"Okay. Love you too. Bye."

She hears the click and she sits there, staring at her dark screen for a minute.

Then she picks another number.

"Hello?"

"Peggy, it's me."

"Hello, Natasha."

Natasha pauses, the tone in Peggy's voice making her senses prick. "What is it?"

"I'm assuming you're calling because you've talked to James?"

"Just got off the phone with him."

"And how is he?"

She grimaces, "not great."

"That's what Steve alluded to…"

"I just hung up with him, Steve had come to talk."

"Well, how do you feel?"

Natasha blinks, "what do you mean?"

"What are your thoughts?"

"About?"

Peggy sighs, "I'm assuming he's told you why he's upset?"

"Yes."

"And what are your thoughts about it?"

Peggy doesn't ask questions that she thinks are a waste of time. So Natasha sits back and thinks. How does she feel knowing her boyfriend has now killed people? And a sort of stark clarity hits her, "I trust him. If he killed them, it was most likely to keep his team safe. He wouldn't just kill people for ease. I know that."

"And does he know that?"

"Know…?"

"How you feel about it?"

"I— No we hadn't got that far."

"Make sure he knows. James knowing that the people who love and support him don't view him differently after having to take those actions will be really important."

"I will." Natasha says firmly, "I definitely will."

"And how are things over there?"

Natasha looks around her little apartment, "it's good. Winter is starting to approach here, so it's getting darker earlier and colder. But I like it for now. How's college?"

"Infuriating." Peggy says with a laugh, "I swear no one has any brain cells left. Or maybe I'm the issue. Who knows."

"What's happening?"

"I'm just doing this project with these —-" she huffs, "I suppose biologically they're men, but ugh—" she sounds like she's tearing out a piece of paper, "they make me question my faith. Perhaps I do believe men evolved from apes."

Natasha laughs, "yikes, they're that bad?"

"One is nice, Daniel, he's at least genuine. The other, this pompous idiot named Jack defies all logic. I swear he just sees my lipstick and assumes he can take charge."

"I'm sure you're making him see sense." She responds with a grin.

"I'm about ready to make him see stars. I have an internship with him the whole year and I'm not sure how I'll manage without strangling him."

"Well if you need an alibi—" Natasha offers, "you can always come visit me in Russia."

The laugh echoes through the phone, "don't tempt me."

"You're sure he doesn't just have a crush on you?" Natasha teases, "men tend to act like idiots around the girls they like."

There's only a brief hesitation before Peggy makes a half amused 'hmph' that has Natasha's eyebrow raising, "I highly doubt it." The Natasha gapes as Peggy changes the subject, "I hear the Starks are headed your way?"

"Ohhh…" Natasha laughs, "have you told Steve?"

"Told Steve what?"

"That you have an admirer!"

A grated annoyed sound meets her ears, "I do not. And can we stick to the subject?"

"You're the one trying to change the subject! Did he ask you out?"

An insufferable sigh, "which one?"

Natasha gasps, "they both asked you?"

Peggy groans and she can picture the girl pinching her nose, "well, one asked, the other made it seem like he would be doing me a favor."

"Oh no," Natasha breathes out, mirth bubbling up at the thought, "what did you do?"

"Thankfully I was able to 'misinterpret' what Daniel meant and let him down easy, although I don't know if he's given up. The second one we were interrupted by someone and so I haven't had the chance to respond."

"I reiterate. Have you told Steve?"

"What for? If I told Steve everytime a guy asked me out…" then she huffs, "I swear don't men have something better to do then just pounce on every female who doesn't immediately state she has a boyfriend?"

"I can't tell if you're bragging." Natasha says with a chuckle, "it sounds like bragging."

"And you're going to tell me that no good looking ballerinos have asked you out?" Natasha winces, "ha!" Peggy snaps triumphantly, "and did you tell James?"

"Okay, fair point. But let's not forget that on the flip side… there's Lorraine—"

"What did I say about ever mentioning that bitch's name to me."

Natasha guffaws in laughter, then shakes her head, "and maybe girls have talked to Bucky. I don't know."

"That's what we get for all being so damn good looking."

"I guess so." Natasha teases back, "I guess so."

—-

"Wake up, pal."

Tony sits up, sliding off the stool and hitting the ground hard, "ow!" He looks up to see his dad standing by his lab station. "Dad? What the hell?"

His dad grins and leans towards him, "patent and name and everything all approved. Manufacturing is going to commence in a few months and then it's off to the races."

Tony accepts the offered hand and stands, brushing himself off. "What? Really?"

"Not even any corrections. You've got a gift, kid—" his dad stops and tilts his head, looking at him. "What is that?"

Tony looks to where he's pointing, realizing it too late to hide it as his dad reaches forward and grasps his wrist, turning his forearm up, "what the hell is this!"

"It was an accident, dad."

His dad's eyes are wild and worried, "accident from what?"

There's a long pause. A pause where Tony doesn't want to tell him. But he takes a deep breath. "You know how two weeks ago they had their first mission?"

His dad's eyebrows pull down, "Clint, Steve, and Bucky?"

Tony nods, "yeah… well, the day they took off, I… I had a panic attack."

His dad's fingers trace the jagged scab on his forearm, "you... cut yourself?"

He shakes his head, "no. I got drunk. And I accidentally got angry at the lamp in my room and started swinging. And—" he gestures to the mark on his wrist, "snagged it on the metal cabinet desk drawer when the lamp knocked me out."

"When the lamp knocked you out?"

"Don't make me embarrass myself more by admitting I tripped and fell while flat out drunk."

There's a long silence before his dad looks up at him, "you swear that's the truth?"

"You wanna check my desk for blood and dna? It's still there."

His dad seems to accept that and lets go of his arm. "You're drinking?"

"You drink."

"It wasn't an accusation, Anthony. It was a question."

"I drink."

Immeasurable guilt crosses his dad's face, "because I drink?"

Tony gives a slow shrug, "I freaked out that they were going to die on their first mission and we hadn't finished the stuff to give them and to keep them safe so it would be all my fault."

Voices pass by his door and his dad looks towards the noise and then back, "why didn't you call me?"

"And have you freak out and jet over here? Probably give mom a heart attack all because I can't handle my emotions? No thank you."

"Hey." His dad snaps lightly, "that's not what's happening. And we'd prefer to know, I'd rather that then you go on benders. I can't—" his dad bites at his cheek, looking hesitant to say more.

"You can't… what?"

His dad turns away, looking out the window, only his profile in Tony's view, "I can't watch you turn out like him."

"Like who, dad?"

"Like my dad. Your grandfather."

"What was wrong with Grandpa?"

"Not Grandpa Hugh. Your biological grandpa."

Tony's head spins and he leans on the desk, "my… what!?"

His dad looks pinched in the face as he turns to face Tony, "Grandpa Hugh isn't your biological grandfather. Or my father."

Tony leans in, aghast, "then who the hell is he?"

"My mom's, your grandma's, second husband."

He finds himself sliding back into the stool, "what? What the hell! What!?"

There's an anxiety running through his father now, as he paces and gestures, "Geez, I didn't even know I was going to be telling you this today, or—" he huffs, "ever, I'm not ready to talk about this."

"YOU BROUGHT IT UP!"

Then his father turns, wild eyes that he hasn't seen since Steve's death in the hospital, "because you can't become him, Anthony, I won't allow it!"

"Become who! I don't even know who the hell he is!"

"An alcoholic." His dad snaps, "more than me, more than me by far."

"You're not an alcoholic, dad—"

"I was, almost. I kind of was. I—" he grimaces, "I struggled, that's why I try not to drink at all. Anymore. Usually. For the most part." He's rubbing his fingers against his palms in anxiousness and it's making Tony's anxiety ratchet up as well.

"Dad, you're telling me, I haven't even met my real grandfather?"

"Can't meet someone who is dead, Tony."

"Dead…?"

"Drunk driving. Got himself killed. Good riddance—" he cuts himself off, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that."

Tony feels a disquieting realization settle in the room. "Dad? Was he more than an alcoholic?"

His dad turns to him, "do not mention to Grandma Betty that I told you this. Do you understand? Don't ever mention it."

"I can't just pretend you didn't drop a bomb on me, dad!"

"He had panic attacks too." His dad is rambling now, "don't keep it to yourself. That's what drove him to drink, and you telling me you just did the same thing scares me. It scares me, Tony. I don't care what time of night it is, I don't care what day it is. If you have a problem, call me. Call your mom, HELL, call Jarvis. I don't care. Talk to someone. I can't… I can't watch that."

"I'm not going to become an alcoholic, dad."

Then his dad turns to him and he has a frightening look in his eyes as he stabs a finger at him, "that's what everyone says, Anthony. No one plans to become an alcoholic. We have it in our genetics. Okay? Generations back. So just—" he's pushing his fist against his nose and eyes squished shut, "just please, please promise me you won't do that again. You'll call. Or you'll fly home. I'll come pick you up. Okay? Anytime. Please."

Tony watches as his dad opens his eyes and they're pleading, looking at him, begging him to agree.

"Okay, dad. I will. I'll call."

Relief sags through him and he nods, "good. That's good.

"You didn't answer my question." Tony says softly.

"What question?"

"Was he just an alcoholic?"

His dad shakes his head slowly and takes a deep breath. "Let's just say that maybe Steve being so clearly from a bad home awoke some pretty potent memories. Clint too for that matter."

Tony's throat goes dry. He'd always wondered why his dad had immediately gleaned onto Steve. Why he had been attached and ready to help so quickly. "Oh…"

"I was young." His dad fills in, "when he died. So don't go feeling sorry for me. I'm fine. And your Grandpa Hugh was such a huge change that I was given a real start to life."

"Any other familial revelations I should know?"

His dad huffs a laugh, "not at the moment. I'll let you know if any pop up."

"So, why did you really come here in the first place?"

The back to business expression returns, "I wanted to know what you're doing two weekends from now. And you weren't answering my texts."

Tony grimaces, "dropped my phone in engine oil… like… three days ago…" he makes a clicking sound with his teeth, "whoops."

His dad rolls his eyes and nods, "of course."

"What's in two weekends?"

"Their gear is ready. And I wanna hand deliver it to them. Thought you might want to come along?"

He nods, "oh, hell yes."

—-

Clint wakes up with a chill down his spine. He bolts upright, and listens. Waiting.

Nothing for a minute. But his pulse is racing. Even in his sleep, his body knows something is wrong.

"CLINT!"

He's out of his bed in seconds and down the hall, slamming into Steve's room.

Bucky is there looking terrified, Steve's on the ground, "what's happening!"

"I woke up, and I could hear him, he was…" Bucky shakes Steve, "wake up, Steve! Wake up!"

Steve makes a groaning sound and curls tighter, his whole body shaking.

"Call Howard!" Bucky bellows, "now!"

He's running out of the room to get his cell when he runs straight into Blaze. They collide, Clint practically toppling them both. "What the hell!" Blaze complains, "what's going on!"

But Clint doesn't answer, he shoves past and slides around the hall, into his room. He grabs his cell and hits Howard's number. Then he's running back. Morita is yawning, rubbing at his eyes, "what's with all the racket?"

"They're going fucking crazy." Blaze says, but his eyes telegraph worry.

He slides on his knees, landing at Bucky's side.

"He's burning up." Bucky says lowly, "like, way hotter than a normal fever."

Clint places his hand on Steve's forehead and winces at the almost scalding heat. "What is this? The procedure is giving out?"

"Hello? Clint?"

"Howard!" He shoves the phone to Bucky, who has been there longer and Bucky clicks the speaker.

"Howard, something is wrong with Steve!"

"What?" His voice shifts from confused to worried problem solver, "what is it?"

"He was in pain, crying out, but now he's not really responsive, but I think he's conscious? And he's broiling hot. Like… hot Howard. Brain boiling hot."

"Shit! Has he been eating enough?"

"He's eating three meals and like two of your bars a day!"

"Has he shown any other symptoms? Any other things? Or just now?"

"Just now!" Bucky snaps.

"Unless he didn't say anything." Clint adds quietly.

"Don't!" Bucky snaps, "don't even get started with that because if that's true I'll kill him."

"Water." They both look down, Steve is breathing heavily, eyes still pinched closed, "please. Water."

Clint's on his feet running to where they keep a stack of water bottles. He brings back a few.

"— can he hear me? Steve? Are you there, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you." Steve whispers out.

"Has there been any other symptoms?"

"No." Steve manages weakly, taking the open water bottle and downing it in second, "no, I was… I was feeling perfect. Just woke up dizzy and like I was struck by lightning. So much energy, and I just… passed out."

Steve drinks another water bottle and sighs, already looking more alert, "I feel better. I'm fine, I don't know what that was."

"How's your temperature?"

Clint watches as Steve sits up and feels his forehead, "I feel fine."

Bucky slaps his hand away and places his own on Steve's forehead. "He's still burning up. But it… It feels different. Like not as violently hot."

Steve drinks another half bottle and then takes a deep breath, "I really am fine. I promise. I think it was just a fluke."

"I don't like flukes." Howard snaps out, "this didn't happen for no reason. Something caused it."

Steve has finished the third bottle and goes to stand, using his metal bunk behind him for support. "I'm fi—" there's a creak and then a crunch then a thump and Clint looks down.

"What was that?"

Clint stares in awe at where Steve's hand has bent the metal, pushing a crater into it.

"What the hell?" All thre heads whip up to see Morita and Blaze still standing in the doorway.

He looks back to see Steve looking nervous, "uh—"

"Steve?" Bucky asks.

But Steve doesn't respond to him, he grabs the phone and takes it off speaker. "Howard? Can I call you later? And would you call Peggy and ask her about the rock at the gazebo at the beach? And tell her it's worse."

Clint can't hear Howard's response but he must be angry because Steve winces.

Then he hangs up and hands the phone to Clint. "Sorry to wake everyone up. I'm all good now."

Neither Bucky or Clint say anything because of the additional parties in the hearin vicinity.

"Oh," Blaze starts, stepping into the room, "we're just supposed to pretend you didn't just have some sort of episode and then dent the metal furniture?"

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head, "it's nothing."

"Oh yeah?" Morita asks, "and you eating the amount of two horses a day nothing? Or the way you never seem to get cold? Or how about the fact that you've been growing?"

Clint looks at Steve and then to Morita, "he what?"

"He's taller."

"I am growing again." Steve admits seeming annoyed, "I don't know why."

Bucky looks at him, "I thought I noticed that. When does it stop?"

"You're asking me?" Steve snaps, "I don't know! It's not like we have some reference to gauge this on!"

Clint grimaces. "You've been telling this to Howard?"

"Can we just wind it all back here?" Blaze cuts, stepping closer and crouching to their levels. "You've been on this base for almost a month. And you never so much as sneeze. Now you're passing out and got these two boys acting like chickens with their heads cut off but also you're calling billionaire Howard Stark like he's your personal physician—"

"I told you." Clint rolls his eyes, "I've already explained this."

"Experimental treatments is a broad thing to say." Blaze retorts, "what kind of experiments are him—" he points to the dented metal.

Steve stands, avoiding using anything to steady him, "I appreciate your—" he looks at Blaze, "is this concern? I don't know. But it's all good."

Blaze looks ready to respond but Steve's phone rings.

He looks at the screen and wrinkles his nose.

Clint snags it, looking at the screen.

Peggy

"What's the rock at the gazebo?" Bucky asks.

"Is that when Carter came back looking like you'd eaten her alive?" Clint teases.

Steve glares at him. "It's nothing."

"Stop saying it's nothing when it's something, Steve!" Bucky grits out, "you've been keeping things from us again. How many times are

you going to do this?"

"I'm not keeping things from you." Steve snaps, "and I'm not a kid in an orphanage anymore, okay? Can you just—" he inhales sharply and glares up at Blaze, "I already told you. I died. Howard Stark brought me back to life. There are side effects. Any more questions?" Then he turns to Morita, "you've seen all my files. Probably even ones I don't know exist. So stop waiting for me to explain things you already know. It's aggravating."

Clint watches it all click together in Blaze's eyes, and he shakes his head, "well ain't you our own little Lazarus. Why the smoke and mirrors?"

"Oh because if I'd told the truth you would have just believed me?"

And Blaze's face shifts to something serious, "I know the truth about death when I hear it."

"Geeez," Bucky groans, "why are you so obsessed with death? You're like the grim reaper."

Blaze just shrugs, "I know the circle of life. I ain't afraid of it. You alright now, Rogers?"

"I'm fine."

"Then night-night, boys." With that Blaze disappears back to his room. Morita twiddles his thumbs and then looks at Steve. "So it's actually true?"

"It's true."

"How?"

"Ask the scientist." Steve rolls his eyes, "I have no idea. One day I'm dying then I wake up. That's all I know."

"Are you sure you were dead?"

"I found him stone cold on the bathroom floor." Bucky snaps out, "I'm sure."

Steve grimaces, "okay, that's enough nostalgia for one night."

"Steve?"

They all turn to see Morita looking at Steve with a meaningful expression, "I'm sorry that happened to you. That must have been awful." Then he nods his head, looking a bit more wry, "but I'm glad you're okay and on this team. If it makes a difference." Then he waggles a silly salute and disappears.

Steve looks at both of them, and he sighs, "I don't know how many times I can keep telling that story without going insane."

"That's probably it." Clint offers, "castle will be told by them come morning. And he isn't going to ask about it. If he believes it at all. And no one else needs to know. But I want to know what caused this episode tonight."

Steve rolls his shoulders and then sighs, "I think I know."

Bucky glares, "no duh! Peggy? The rock? What is it that you've been hiding?"

Steve looks around and he snags a stapler off of his desk.

"Watch." He closes his hand around it, and then squeezes. When he opens it, the stapler part he was holding is crunched into the shape of his palm.

"Oh—" Bucky breathes out, "what."

Clint stands, pointing at the stapler, "you're fucking strong!?"

Steve nods, "I noticed back this summer. Kept leaving dents in stuff and breaking things. But only recently it's gotten past the explanation of faulty or worn out stuff. I kept trying to say it was an accident, or flukes. But now—" he gestures to the bed, "I guess I can't ignore it anymore. And—" he groans, "I swear if either of you laugh I'll punch you."

"What?" Bucky asks, "laugh at what?"

Clint blinks in surprise as Steve deftly removes his shirt. And then Clint blinks in surprise at something else. While still on the narrowing side, definition of lithe muscle are evident on Steve's frame.

"I noticed it last week." Steve says quietly, "the more I eat and rest the more I—"

"You're growing muscles?" Bucky chokes out, "what the hell? Just like, out of the blue?"

"You keep asking me like you think I understand any of this!" Steve gestures to his body and slams a palm to his forehead, "first my ears and eyes and then I'm growing? Then it's the skin and my strength? Then I'm full of energy and overwhelming emotions and now I'm growing again in so many ways I can't keep my head on straight!"

"But you've been telling Howard?"

"All but the level of physical strength. I was reserved about that one being real. But with four witnesses… it's hard to pretend anymore."

"Emotions." Clint asks, caught on that, "what about your emotions?"

Finally Bucky grins, "go on Steve, tell him about Hodge and the poiso—"

"Buck." Steve snaps, then he turns to Clint, "it's like everything's dialed to 20 on a scale from 1-10. It's sort of like… like if I felt something, I would feel it to the max. But it has toned down. It's more manageable now than it was a month and a half ago."

"Damn." Clint responds, leaning back against the desk, "do you think Howard knew any of this stuff when he worked with Erskine? I'm mean, these are some wild side effects."

"Remember when he stepped out of that pod thing." Bucky comments looking at him, "and Howard seemed disappointed that it hadn't worked fully. I think this is exactly what he hoped."

"I don't know." Steve responds, "all I know is that at some point it has to stop. Because I… I can't keep growing forever. I don't want to have to worry about having an episode on a mission."

"What if you end up being the tallest out of all of us?" Clint teases.

And Steve looks up at them and looks sad, "I think I already am."

"What!" Clint gaped, "what! No way, Stand up, Bucky, stand back to back." They both comply and Clint uses his hand to skim over Steve's head and see that he is in fact just a hair taller. And Bucky's already taller than him. Which makes Steve the tallest. "Holy crap. No way."

"I hadn't even noticed." Bucky says quietly, "when did that happen."

"I was talking to Peggy." Steve responds, running a hand through his hair, and just saying that now that we're not in basic anymore, like I'm not running a bunch and doing a million push ups. So instead of all my energy and focus going to that, it's switched back.. now with food and rest I'm growing again." Steve's phone lights up with Howard's number and he sighs, "I should probably answer that."

"You should call Carter back too." Clint responds, handing his phone back. "She's got to be worried."

Steve nods, "I will. Thanks for checking on me."

They both nod and as they step out of his room and into their own, they share a look. Bucky and him have been connected ever since they climbed into that dumpster together. Ever since they sat there holding Steve's body.

An unspoken agreement to do whatever it takes to protect Steve. But how do you protect Steve against his own body?

"It will level off." Clint says hopefully. "It hasn't even been 6 months."

Bucky's expression is flat as he walks into his room, "it better."

—