Chapter 2
Alfred rises just before sunrise. In the dim pre-dawn gray of the morning he shuffles into the kitchen and takes out numerous pots and pans. He always wakes up extra early when Bucky and Steve visit. Super soldier metabolisms demand super soldier sized meals. How the army kept them fed, Alfred has no idea.
He cooks eggs, and bacon, and sausage, and hashbrowns, and toast, and chocolate chip pancakes with maple syrup because Dick has an insatiable sweet tooth. Then he stacks several plates expertly on the tray and heads down to the batcave. He never heard Bruce come up last night and it's not the first time the man has fallen asleep at his computer.
As he descends the steps Bruce comes into view. He’s slumped over the computer, his head tucked into his arms atop the keyboard. Next to him is Dick, curled up in his chair and wrapped in both his and Bruce’s capes. Alfred lingers on the sight, smiling softly. Then his eyes travel further into the cave towards Bucky and Steve. Bucky is asleep, his chin buried into his chest and arms crossed. Steve is…
“Oh my!”
The tray slips from his hands. Plates shatter as they hit the ground, spilling breakfast across the cave floor. Bucky and Bruce are on their feet immediately, both ready to fight. Dick flails under the capes and crashes to the floor. All eyes find Alfred, but he doesn’t notice. He can’t tear himself away from the sight of Steve.
At the sound of the crash Steve bolts upright. The thin sheet falling away to expose his bare chest. A chest that only hours ago had been a wall of solid muscle. Now Alfred can see every rib beneath tightly drawn skin.
Bruce follows Alfred’s gaze. His face spasms at the sight of Steve small form. Wordlessly he turns back to his computer and pulls up the results of the tests he ran just before falling asleep. He finds nothing useful in them.
Dick tries to cover an audible gasp with his hands. His eyes flicker between Bruce and Alfred, searching for guidance. When none comes, he goes back to staring at Steve.
Bucky recovers from his shock the fastest, his face morphing into a slight smile.
"How you feeling pal?"
"Like my chest is on fire" Steve coughs, bringing his hand up to rub his boney chest. He freezes as he runs his hand over his bony ribcage. It feels sickeningly familiar. Blinking the sleep from his eyes he stares down at his body.
"Buck," Steve says quietly, "what happened to me?"
He stares at himself in horrified fascination. He breathes deeply and listens to the way it rattles in his lungs. It’s been over half a century since he last heard that sound, yet he recognizes it instantly. His eyes travel from his chest to his skinny arms. There’s an ache deep in his muscles. Not the normal ache that always follows a fight, but the more painful ever-present ache of muscles not strong enough to carry the body.
Bucky flashes Bruce a look that’s desperate for answers. Bruce stares helplessly back.
“I’ll put on a pot of tea,” Alfred says as the panic laden silence stretches on. At the sound of Alfred’s voice, Bruce snaps out of his shocked trance. He grabs a syringe from the medkit.
“I need to take another blood sample.” He mutters. Steve holds out a thin arm. Bruce grabs it, his fingers able to wrap all the way around Steve’s slight wrist. He can feel Steve’s pulse fluttering beneath his hand. Heart troubles. A faint memory of Steve mentioning that crosses his mind. He makes a note to have Steve give him a full report of his issues later. For now he gets to work drawing the blood, keeping his face schooled into a neutral expression.
With the sample in hand, Bruce brings it back to the computer and pulls up Steve’s previous samples for comparison. The difference is immediately apparent.
"The serum...it's gone."
“What? How?” Steve asks. He stands up, keeping one hand around the waist of his now comically too large pants, and walks over to Bruce.
“I don’t know, but it must have been whatever was in Poison Ivy’s spores.” Bruce says. He glances over his shoulder at Steve to gage his reaction. Steve’s face is carefully blank as he stares at the results on the screen.
"But we can reverse it, right?" Bucky asks. Bruce doesn't answer. The serum is a scientific marvel. One that, according to Steve, nobody has ever been able to crack. And while Bruce is in many ways a genius, he is not a biologist. When it becomes apparent that Bruce won’t respond, Dick answers instead.
"Of course we will!"
A tiny smile flits across Steve’s face. It quickly dies however, when he turns to face Dick and realizes that they are the same height. His stomach flips, but he tamps down on the medley of feelings racing through him. He’s just lost so much, he refuses to lose his dignity too by breaking down in front of his team. Besides, he can tell that Bruce is unnerved by his new appearance and Bucky looks like he’s moments away from a panic attack. Right now, they both need someone to be strong.
"We need to call Clark and let him know the spores had an effect," Steve says, privately grateful at how even and calm his voice sounds, "then I want to take some blood samples to Tony and Bruce. Let's have their computers take a crack at it… And I think I need a change of clothes."
Bruce dials Clark while Alfred, Dick, Bucky, and Steve go upstairs to find him a change of clothes.
“There’s an update on Steve’s condition.” He says in lieu of a greeting. Clark doesn’t say anything. Instead he hears a click. Thirty seconds and one gust of wind later, Clark lands in the cave.
"Steve's awake?" He asks hopefully.
"Yes. He's upstairs with Alfred," Bruce says, "trying to find clothes that fit him."
Clark cocks his head, "What’s wrong with the clothes he was wearing?"
Bruce gives him a look that verges on pity, “You’ll see.”
Bruce invites him upstairs and Clark follows. A deep sense of foreboding takes root in the pit of his stomach. They find Bucky first. He sitting on an antique couch in the spacious living room filled with décor that costs more than Clark’s apartment. Selena, a sleek black cat, perches herself on his lap, though Bucky doesn’t seem to notice. His face is buried in his hands.
“Bucky?” Clark says. Bucky grunts what might be a greeting, though Clark isn’t sure. Steve’s noticeable absence and Bucky’s demeanor only causes Clark’s trepidation to grow.
Footsteps pull Clark’s eyes away from Bucky as Alfred comes down the stairs. Behind him follow Dick and a pale blonde boy. Clark freezes and looks down at his suit. He hurriedly tries to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Superman would be in Bruce Wayne’s house. Bruce should have warned him that Dick had a friend over.
"Hi Clark." The blonde boy says in an unmistakably familiar voice.
Clark blinks and then gapes at the boy – no man – in front of him.
“Steve?” He says weakly. Steve winces and flashes him a self-conscious grin. The more Clark looks the more he can see Steve in the bright blue eyes and the wry curve of his smile.
"What happened to you?" Clark asks and he knows it’s rude, but he can’t stop staring at him. He’s so small. Steve has occasionally mentioned being a scrawny kid, but this is downright tiny. Clark has a strong urge to fly Steve to the farm so Ma can fatten him up.
"Poison Ivy's spores as best we can tell," Steve shrugs, "want to give me a lift back to Metropolis? I need Tony to take a look at my blood."
Clark nods dumbly. Steve steps closer. He looks so young. Has Steve always been so young? Clark hooks an arm around Steve waist, holding back a grimace. He’s so skinny. Clark is afraid of breaking him. Bucky joins them on Clark’s other side. There’s a comfort in the fact that Bucky feels the same; solid, strong, and not like he’s about to snap in half at a strong wind.
The trip back to Metropolis is slower than normal. An illogical part of Clark is afraid that if he goes to fast Steve’s new body will break. It’s ridiculous, but he can’t make himself speed up. He can tell Steve notices by the way he frowns as the wind gently ruffles his hair.
Clark considers dropping them off on the roof like he normally does, but then he wonders how Steve will get down? He doesn't have the upper body strength to scale the wall to the window. What if he falls? Clark flies through an open window, startling the cats, and drops them off in the kitchen.
"Thank you," Steve says, perhaps a bit stiffer than usual, but still faultlessly polite. He stands next to the portal that will take him to Stark Tower, clearly waiting for them to leave. Bucky and Clark stare back at him patiently.
“I don’t need help visiting Tony and Bruce.” Steve huffs.
“Who said you did? Maybe I just want to drop in on Stark and ask him to take a look at my arm. It was a bit squeaky yesterday.” Bucky says. Steve glares and then rolls his eyes. He pushes a button and the red light glows.
Steve squeezes his eyes shut as he's pulled between dimensions. He feels himself being yanked in different directions more roughly than usual. When he’s dumped out at his destination, he’s left gasping for air and clinging to Tony’s marble countertops. He waits for Friday's customary greeting, but it never comes. Confused, he looks around and finds nothing out of the ordinary. Except, of course, for the perpetual look of worry on Clark's face.
"Friday?" Steve says.
"Captain Rogers." Friday says in a tone Steve has never heard from her before. If he didn't know any better he would say she sounds uncertain.
"I will alert Mr. Stark to your arrival."
Tony and Bruce run up from the lab minutes later. Steve wonders exactly what it was Friday said to them. When they catch sight of Steve, the freeze. Their eye roam over Steve’s body and Steve fights not to cross his arms in defensiveness. Tony gives a low whistle.
“That you Cap?” He asks. Steve stands a little straighter. He feels like he’s being analyzed, like some sort of experiment that Tony and Bruce just can’t wait to dive into. Tony grins.
"I'd recognize that scowl anywhere. It is you!"
Steve rolls his eyes, "we ran into a situation with the serum. I was hoping for your help."
"Of course. We're always willing to help a pint-sized patriot." Tony smirks. Steve resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He can feel a migraine coming on. It's been a long time since he's had one of those.
The smirk drops off Tony's face at Steve's lack of response. Bruce steps around Tony, elbowing him on the way and sighing at his lack of tact.
"Of course we'll look into it. We just need to take some blood samples."
They bring Steve down to the lab. Bucky and Clark flank Steve like two overly protective guard dogs and Tony looks like he's valiantly trying to hold in multiple short jokes. Only Bruce manages to hold on to an air of professional calmness as they get to work. After the blood samples are collected Steve hands over the some of the spores that were left clinging to his clothes last night. Tony looks at it snorts.
"Are you saying Captain America got taken down by a weed?" Tony asks. Bruce elbows him in the side again. Hard.
"Don't underestimate Poison Ivy. She's a level 6 criminal according to Bruce." Clark says. Tony rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure she's the scariest plant lady on the block." Tony says as he feeds the spores into the computers with the blood samples.
"This might take a while," Bruce warns, "even if we figure out how the spores neutralized the serum, we’ll still have to figure out how to reverse it."
If it even is reversible. The thought hangs unspoken between them. Steve swallows down the fear and smiles.
"Understood doctor."
"Bah, give us a week at most," Tony says confidently, "and you'll be back to your normal 6'2 patriotic self."
Steve tries to feel a fraction of Tony's confidence. He can't. Being in this body is sore, exhausting, and humiliating. It's taking all of his optimism to just stay balanced about his current situation. He doesn’t have any left to spare thinking about the future.
"Thanks guys." Steve says giving them a weak smile, "we should get back through. Work tomorrow."
It's a weak excuse, but he can't bare standing another second in Tony's labs politely ignoring Tony's jokes and analyzing looks. He knows Tony doesn't mean anything by it when he calls him "pintsized" but the words hit a little too close to home. How many times had he been called "pintsized" "shorty" and "little guy" growing up? As everybody around him hit their growth spurts Steve had remained undersized and sickly skinny.
“What, getting tired already? Tony jokes. Steve just shrugs. Despite their clear desire to get to work, both Tony and Bruce escort them upstairs. The steps make Steve’s knees hurt. Only Bucky seems to notice, or perhaps he just remembers all the times Steve had to stop and rest halfway up the staircase to their old apartment. Either way, he doesn’t say anything – something Steve is immensely grateful about – just keeps a comforting hand pressed lightly against Steve’s back.
Tony and Bruce say their goodbyes, promising to contact them as soon as they find out anything helpful. Then in a flash of red light, Steve finds himself in his kitchen, forcing down a wave of nausea. Glancing at the clock tells him that it’s late afternoon.
"I should head to the store and get clothes that actually fit me for now, unless Dick has a dress shirt I can borrow for work tomorrow." He gives Bucky and Clark a slight grin that neither return. Instead they look at each other nervously.
"What?" Steve asks.
"Steve, you don't think you're going to work tomorrow, do you?" Clark asks. He speaks gently as if trying to sooth a great beast or pacify toddler. It rubs Steve all wrong. He crosses his arms.
"I don't need super soldier strength to hold a pencil."
Do they really think he that useless without the serum that he can't even draw?
"It's not that," Clark says, "but how do you expect to explain to our coworkers that you lost a foot in height and dropped half your body mass?"
"Oh." Is all Steve can say. Of course his new appearance will provoke questions. Questions that he can't answer.
"You could come with me to shelter," Bucky offers. Steve shakes his head, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“It’s fine. I can take a few days without work.” Steve says. Bucky snorts and Steve doesn’t blame him. Taking a break is not something he’s exactly known for. Clark looks equally as unconvinced as he stares at Steve like he’s made of glass.
“Seriously,” Steve says, “I’ll be fine. Go home and feed Krypto.”
For a moment Steve isn’t sure Clark will leave. His brow is furrowed and his lips pucker into a worried frown. He glances at Bucky as if looking for his permission to leave Steve. Steve has to fight back a scowl. He doesn’t need a babysitter.
“Go on.” Bucky says, “We’ll call you if we need anything.”
Clark nods, looking slightly mollified, and says his goodbyes.
Steve scoops up Peggy, letting the kitten climb up onto his shoulder and heads to his room. It’s been a long day and he has a headache.
"Steve, you sure you're alright?" Bucky asks. As much as Steve would like to be annoyed, he can’t. The concern on Bucky’s face is too familiar and comforting. It reminds Steve of rainy Brooklyn nights when things were simpler and the only worries they had were how they were going to pay the rent that month.
"Yeah, just tired. It's been a long time since my body has been so..." he trails off, gesturing at himself. Bucky nods in understanding.
"I'll make us some dinner." Bucky says.
“Thanks,” Steve says. Feeding him is how Bucky used to express his concern over Steve and Steve expects that, if nothing else, he'll at least be well fed for the foreseeable future.