10. Sins Of The Father 9

The day after his museum trip, Steve found his schedule inexplicably cleared. He double checked his calendar on his tablet, then triple checked with JARVIS, but it was the same result: he had nowhere to be and nothing to do. He stared at the tablet, sitting at his desk in his den.

“I believe Ms. Potts took the liberty of rescheduling your day, Captain.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“She was concerned about your needing time to process your experiences from yesterday,” JARVIS said as gently as an AI could.

Steve shook his head. “After everything I’ve been through, JARVIS, seeing my old apartment doesn’t really rate very high.”

JARVIS was quiet for a moment. “Sir is at the door, requesting entry.”

“Sure, why not? Let him in.” Steve tipped his head back to rest on the chair and stared at the ceiling.

“So this is you moping? I was expecting more pouty face.” Tony came in and propped himself up against the desk.

“I’m not moping. I’m wondering why Pepper cleared my schedule. I had an interview and then testing for Bruce.”

“So your plan was to stay busy? Okay. We can do that too.” Tony whipped out his phone and started tapping at it.

“No, Tony. No.” Steve waved a hand at him, for all the good it would do.

“Ta da! Museum time. You're an artist, you’ll love it. We’re going to the Met.”

Steve sighed. “I like the Met.”

“You’ll like it even more now. It’s bigger.”

Steve laughed as he stood up. “That’s your qualification for better? That it’s bigger?”

Tony opened his mouth and then shut it again, clearly at pains to stay quiet.

“Tony, I was in the Army for two years and before that I was a working class kid in Brooklyn. You can’t tell me any off-color joke I haven’t heard before,” Steve said, leaving out how the crudest jokes he ever heard were the ones the drag queens at Little Buck’s had told.

Tony did an awkward body dip that was almost a shrug. “I don’t know about you, sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not what I expected. You’re not like all the comic books and the bad movies, or even anything like my father told me.”

“Howard…Howard talked about me?”

Tony stared at him as if he was growing a third head. “You do realize that the expedition that found you was funded by Stark Industries, right?”

“What? I thought it was SHIELD.”

“They were along for the ride. My father left a whole chunk of his personal fortune to continue the search for Captain Steve Rogers. You were one of his greatest accomplishments; Erskine couldn’t have done what he did without Dad’s tech. Dad was very possessive about you. Your memory, I should say. You visited Rogers’ House yesterday, so don’t tell me you don’t know the history of that.”

“Yes, but… I didn’t think he’d talk about me.”

Tony inspected his nails. “Well, he did.”

“Okay, I get it. You don’t want to talk about that. Fine. We’re going to the museum?” Steve walked out of the den.

Tony trailed after him. “Pepper’s joining us.” He spun in place in the main room. “Have you done anything to decorate this place?”

“No. It’s great like it is. Pepper did a good job.”

“She did a good job with the paint and the carpet. You’ve left everything empty.”

Steve pointed to the kitchenette, where he had hung up the annual cat calendar from the Humane Society of New York.

“I really…no, this is too much. We’re leaving. And I will buy you a damn art poster from the Met, and you will hang it on your wall using thumbtacks like a sophomore finally getting a single dorm room, and Pepper and I will admire it like proud parents seeing our boy all grown up.” Tony flailed his arms and stomped out. Steve figured that their lack of understanding was mutual.

"That's creepy, Tony," Steve said as they got into the elevator.

"Shut up, you're at least fifteen years younger than I am." Tony said sharply, although his lips were tugging into a smile. "Kiddo."

"Don't start with me, old man."

"Ouch. How you wound me." Tony put his hands in his pockets and let his smile break free. Steve worked hard not to stare because relaxed and smiling, Tony was leagues ahead of his father in looks and charm, and Steve really did not need to be thinking about that right before they were joined by Pepper to spend the whole day in close proximity.

When the elevators opened up on the parking garage, Pepper was standing in front of the limo, bouncing in a pair of comfortable flats, while Happy smiled at them indulgently.

"You take the express elevator?" Tony asked, kissing her cheek and for once not having to get on his toes to do it.

"The Met!" Pepper grinned. "Of course I took the express." She turned and smiled at Steve. "I don't know what you did to convince him to take the day off for a museum trip, but thank you!"

"Anything for a lady," Steve said, following them into the limo.

"You hear that?" Pepper said, giving Tony a playfully waspish look.

"Sorry, what? I'm so old, my hearing is gone." Tony cupped a hand over his ear.

Pepper looked confused, glancing between them.

"Tony was being creepy, talking about you and him being proud parents." He shrugged, trying not to blush.

Pepper's mouth dropped open. "Of YOU?"

Tony let out a loud laugh, nearly snorting with it, and bent over his lap cackling.

Steve smiled at Tony, and Pepper started giggling, lighting up with delight. She reached out for Steve's knee and clutched it as her giggles turned into full fledge laughter, and Steve was helpless then to stop himself from joining in until they were all nearly in a pile of hysterics. Steve began to think that the museum trip was the best idea Tony had ever had.

It turned out that touring he Met with Tony Stark was not anything like doing something so mundane as walking around a museum. Rooms were closed down when they entered, extra security standing at entry ways and exits while Happy stood discretely behind them holding the Iron Man suitcase, and whatever staff happened to be the expert in that subject or era called up to give them a personal art history lecture. The museum director "dropped by" twice to make sure everything was to their expectations, and they got a private lunch in the exclusive Member's Dining Room overlooking Central Park. Steve mostly tried not to act like a hick, and was grateful that his social studies with his SHIELD tutors had covered modern art history a little.

Pepper was an art connoisseur and asked insightful, educated questions. Tony didn't ask anything but commented occasionally with observations that revealed a deep and thorough classical education. Steve's fingers twitched, wanting to draw in the presence of masters, but he did not have any questions. Certainly nothing he had to say would rival the erudite commentary of everyone around him. He suspected the security guards probably had a better high school education than he did.

In the Wisteria Room, Pepper lagged, looking thoughtfully towards the beautiful murals on the walls but not actually seeing them, she was so lost in thought. "Wait, wait. Tony. Tony!"

Tony stepped away from the Art Nouveau floor lamp he was studying. "Yes, Miss Potts?"

"Did you build a studio for Steve?"

"Three weeks ago. You love it, don't you, Steve?" Tony said dismissively, turning back to the lamp.

"Uh, yes. It's huge. Great. Really great."

Pepper put her hands on her hips, studying Steve with narrowed eyes. "Do you use it?"

"Pepper, I'm going to sic Agent on you. Don't you know that Captain Rogers was an artist before turning to war?" Tony turned around again and grinned at her.

"Excuse me for not punching my fangirl card, Mr. I-Own-an-Original-Enterprise-Model-from-the-Show."

Tony raised a finger. "The Original Star Trek, thankyouverymuch."

"That silly TV show Clint likes so much?" Steve frowned, and both Pepper and Tony turned on him. He raised his hands in surrender. "I like Flash Gordon. No offense."

An evil gleam came over Tony's eyes. "Heh. Flesh Gordon."

"No! Oh my GOD, no, Tony! No!" Pepper actually screeched and starting running at Tony, who turned and fled. By the time Steve slowly, very slowly caught up to them two rooms over, they were kissing heavily under Renoir's painting "By the Seashore." The room spoke more to Steve's meager art training than the world of the modern, stylish couple making out like teenagers, and he watched them from the corner of his eye as he studied a still life by Sisley. Pepper broke away, giggling like a young girl, and punched Tony in the shoulder before wandering over to see what Steve was looking at.

"I always admired painters," Steve said, uncomfortable for reasons he did not want to dwell on.

"Tony said that you're an artist?"

"Sure. But I never worked much with paint, it's expensive. I did pen and pencil, charcoal, that kind of thing. Water colors when I could get the right paper on sale. I always did okay with paint but learning a medium well enough to express yourself in it, that's tough. Anyway the publishing house mostly wanted ink work, or etchings. Color plates were a bit more upscale than my boss was willing to go in for. Dime novel covers, cartoons, comics, that kind of thing, that's what I did."

Pepper blinked a few times. "Oh. You worked as a professional illustrator?"

Steve stared at the painting. He wasn't sure how to explain that he thought of himself as an illustrator, that he worked at it professionally for ten years before becoming Captain America, or that most of the time he felt more like a small, hungry artist than the world's first superhero. It wasn't as if that part of his life mattered anymore. He shrugged. "Before the war."

It was the fall back answer that seemed to make people go quiet, Steve had learned, and it worked on Pepper too. She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his arm before following Tony to the next room. The rest of the afternoon passed in haze of art, and despite Steve's persistent melancholy he managed to enjoy himself. Tony kept making horrible puns and Pepper finally broke down and just grabbed Steve's hand to pull him from room to room. At one point Tony grabbed Steve's other hand and trailed along, yelling "Bueller! Bueller!" which made Pepper, Happy, and several of the security guards laugh. Steve didn't get the joke but found himself smiling at them as they marched in line through several galleries in the Contemporary Art department.

When they got back to the tower, the whole team was milling around on the common floor, and it was painfully obvious to Steve that they were there to check on him. Given the effects of the serum treatment, he wondered why people still thought of him as frail and delicate. He gave Phil a pained look as he walked through the room to the kitchen area. Phil, who was set up at the dining table with a tablet and a Hawkeye and a Black Widow, at least had the grace to cringe just a little. Clint laughed.

When Steve came back into the room with his liter of Coke in hand, Bruce had migrated from the far corner to his lounge chair. Phil was standing by the dining table, poking at his tablet to shut it down, while Clint and Natasha commandeered the small sofa for the three of them. Thor, who was being unusually circumspect and quiet, saluted Steve with his own liter of Mountain Dew and settled on his chaise lounge, looking exceptionally regal for someone wearing a Nyan Cat teeshirt. Tony and Pepper were already set up in their love seat, Pepper's feet tucked under Tony's thigh as she leaned back against the armrest and sighed in contentment. Steve was careful not to stare at the picture they made as he fell into his own chair. "I guess we're watching a movie?"

Tony nodded, head tipped back. "I'm done. I think we walked a marathon through that museum today, if I get blisters then—"

"Tony, shut up and pick a movie," Pepper sighed.

"He picked last time!" Clint sat up.

Phil cuffed the back of his head. "You sound like a child."

"Hey! I—"

"Make you a deal, Hawkguy: I pick the opening act, you pick the movie."

"DEAL!" Clint clapped his hands. Bruce rolled his eyes and surreptitiously pulled his own tablet out, clearly expecting the worst. Steve honestly wasn't sure what could be worse than Point Break but he knew better than to start that argument again.

Tony turned and looked at him with a surprisingly serious expression. "Up for a little nostalgia, Cap? Or is it too soon?"

Pepper frowned. "Tony."

"Go ahead, Tony. I think my delicate mental well being is safe for now," Steve said and took a swig from the plastic jug to show how much he didn't care.

Tony nodded and punched at his phone. The room went into "entertainment system mode" as Tony called it: lights dimmed, the huge movie screen appeared out of the wall and the walkways to and from the kitchen and the elevator were illuminated by low-level lighting tracks sunk into the floor.

And then Captain America saved the world.

Steve groaned as the old newsreels flashed on screen. By modern standards they looked worn and haphazard, even though Steve remembered the film crews as experienced professionals who lugged around hundreds of pounds of state-of-the-art equipment.

"Hey, pause!" Steve said. Everyone looked at him. He pointed. "See that? We were along the Marne, outside Reims. The film crew got flown in by Howard, it was a big secret. But you can see that Jacques is hungover as hell, most of the guys were!" Steve laughed. "The town had been liberated the day before and was just a stop-over for us, but the people there threw a huge party that lasted most of the night. We were basically on downtime but this film crew, they wanted some action shots so, here, play! Play!" The movie started up again and Steve laughed harder. "So we had Dum Dum put on a black coat with a scarf over his face and 'attack' the local inn; we all ran in and out of that damn building about twenty times. Howard just kept feeding the news guys raw film to waste. I don't think anyone was sober by the time they wrapped!" He was laughing so hard he was crying, holding his stomach. "Colonel Phillips was furious!"

Everyone else had joined in by the time the reel finished with a majestic shot of Captain America 'claiming' the 'enemy stronghold' with a bottle of local wine in his hand.

"Oh! God! Best idea ever!" Tony gasped for air as Pepper slumped against him, laughing so hard her face was red. "Jarvis! Next!"

Steve wiped his eyes as the next film started up with the familiar dramatic voice-over. "Oh, this was much later! You see—"

"Who is that?" Natasha snapped so loudly that everyone stopped to stare at her. Jarvis paused the movie.

"That is Sergeant James 'Bucky' Barnes, Captain Rogers' close friend who ow!" Phil yelped and then glared at Clint, who had elbowed him.

"Steve knows who he is, Phil."

Steve nodded. "Bucky. My best friend. We grew up together." He smiled at Natasha. "All the girls liked him, he was a real charmer."

Natasha had not torn her eyes from the screen, where Bucky was looking off to the side — probably at Steve, if Steve remembered the filming correctly. Even in black and white, Bucky's fierce good looks commanded attention, his dark eyes and fair skin a study in contrasts. Steve's stomach twisted.

"What happened to him?" She asked, frowning.

Phil opened his mouth but then glanced over at Steve.

"I lost him." Steve leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. Natasha looked at him sharply, and he shrugged. "He died on a mission a few days before I went in the ice. We were up a mountain. He fell off a moving train into a ravine. It was a…a long drop. I tried to grab him but the metal tore loose and I wasn't fast enough. He fell." Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then looked up at the screen again. "It doesn't feel very long ago to me. He was my best friend."

"Jarvis—" Tony started.

"No! No, keep it rolling. It's good to see him, like we used to be. I never thought about watching these reels, seeing everybody again. It's good, Tony. It's good." He smiled in the face of Tony's genuine distress. Pepper wrapped her arms around Tony and pulled him to sit back down with her.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Natasha said, but there was something wrong and stilted to the words. Clint was looking at her, his expression closed, and Steve wasn't about to touch whatever it was going on with them.

"S'okay, Nat. He was a good guy and I'm glad I knew him. Heck you probably would have gotten along great with him, he was a first class fighter."

She gave him a funny, lopsided and completely uncharacteristic smile. "I'm sure."

Steve nodded, and did not miss the looks that Phil and Clint were exchanging. "Jarvis, go ahead and start it up. I was going to say, this was a few weeks before, before Bucky went down." Steve continued on, and while the stories for the following reels were not all fun and laughter, he managed to make them amusing enough to lighten the mood again and keep his team entertained.

Later, as they watched Clueless (Clint's pick, although in a surprising turn of events Bruce backed him on the choice), Steve had time to wonder who Bucky had reminded Natasha of. It was clear that she saw something familiar and upsetting in Bucky, and that made Steve sad. Bucky had been more than the love of Steve's life: he had a been a good man, a good soldier, and a hard-knocks fighter. There was nothing not to admire about Bucky, and Steve found himself aching with the desire to be able to introduce his team to the one man who had really mattered to Steve, a long, long time ago.