Chapter 1
Steve cooks dinner as a squat gray cat winds his way between Steve’s legs. He deftly steps over the beast on the way to the table with a fond huff. The cat, Colonel Phillips, jumps on Steve’s lap demanding scratches between his ears as the front door opens. Bucky steps through smiling and, Steve notes, without an animal tucked under his arm.
“Good day at the shelter?” Steve asks. When Bucky first took the job at the Metropolis Animal Shelter, he had been reluctant; afraid of his own strength amongst such small helpless creatures. Steve, who remembered a young Bucky sneaking pieces of dinner away from the table to feed to stray animals, had no such misgivings.
“Yeah, we got the sweetest dog in today,” Bucky says fixing himself a plate of dinner while an orange cat watches from the counter.
“He was snarling up a storm when they first brought him in; we think he was abused,” Bucky says, “but I sat with him and by the time I left he was curled up in my lap, peaceful as a lamb.”
Steve looks up to find Bucky staring at him from across the table. It’s a look he knows well.
“No. We already have three cats, a bird, and two turtles. Our apartment doesn’t even allow dogs.”
“But Clark’s does.” Bucky points out. Steve bites back a grin. He even doesn’t question how Bucky knows that.
“Jimmy has a dog because of you, Lois has two cats because of you, and Perry has a parrot named Elvis because of you. Not everybody needs a pet.”
“I disagree. Everybody does need a pet, especially Superman.” Bucky says as a black and white kitten claws her way up Bucky’s leg. Bucky scoops Peggy up and rests her on his shoulder.
“Clark has said no to every pet you’ve offered him.” Steve reminds him.
“Those weren’t right for him, but I have a good feeling about this dog.” Bucky says. Steve rolls his eyes, but can’t stop the warm feeling spreading across his chest. This is the Bucky Barnes he is used to, the boy he remembers from Mrs. Mitchell’s fourth grade class. He’ll gladly accept a dozen more cats into the apartment if it means he gets to keep this version of Bucky.
Not that Bucky doesn’t still have his bad days. Nightmares are a constant, and there are days where Bucky will only talk to the cats, a haunted look in his eyes. Those days are usually followed by double shifts at the shelter, until Bucky can look at Steve with a smile again. Still, being in a world without Hydra, without anyone knowing the name Winter Soldier or his trigger words, has done more for Bucky than a year of therapy.
Steve finishes his dinner, and scoots Colonel Phillips off his lap. The cat gives him a judgmental stare, not unlike his namesake, and jumps down.
“I’m heading out for the Justice League meeting. You want to come?” Steve asks. Bucky rolls his eyes.
“Unlike you Steve when I said I was retiring from the superhero business I actually meant it.”
“Just checking,” Steve says.
“Say hello to the others, and tell Clark about the dog.” Bucky says, “We’re still trying to come up with a name for him.”
Steve waves him off with a laugh and a promise to mention it. Though privately he doubts even Bucky will be able to convince Clark to change his mind.
The Justice League is a very impressive name for what amounts to monthly ten minute rooftop meetings between Steve, Clark, and Bruce. Bruce refuses to even use the name, insisting that they are not a team and that these meetings are more like courtesy calls between colleagues than anything else. Clark, on the other hand, beams with pride every time the name gets mentioned. Steve’s quietly confident that they will eventually pester Bruce into using the name non-sarcastically.
Steve is the last to make it to the Daily Planet rooftop, where their meetings are usually held. Bruce is scowling impatiently beneath his cowl.
“I thought military men were always on time.” Clark says cheerfully.
“Retired military,” Steve says, “and there was a mugging on 5th Ave.”
“Now that we are all here, we can begin,” Bruce cuts in before Clark can ask for details.
“I know call this Justice League meeting to order.” Clark says. Steve can’t see Bruce’s eyes beneath his cowl, but he knows he’s rolling them. Bruce is tense; he always is at these meetings. Not even among allies does he let his guard down.
“The Falcone family has recently made moves to expand their crime operation,” Bruce reports, “they have sent out family members to Metropolis to scout it out. I suspect any attention from either of you should be enough to frighten them off.”
“I’ll take care of them. Bobby Bigmouth mentioned hearing something about Falcone’s nephew.” Clark says. Bruce gives a sharp nod.
“The quicker you take care of it the better. We don’t want them to get a foothold.”
“We won’t,” Steve promises, “Superman, what have you got for Batman?”
“We’ve been recently working to find out more about a group called Intergang. So far, they seem to be spread out across the nation. We haven’t heard of them being in Gotham yet, but I would keep an eye out for them.” Clark reports.
“I will. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard that name.” Bruce says. Steve isn’t surprised he’s heard of them before. Most of their tips to him are about things he’s already been aware of for weeks. The way he has his pulse on Gotham and his fingers in every pie reminds Steve of Fury and his obsessive need to know everything.
“Now if that’s all you have, I need to get back to Gotham.”
Steve sighs. Bruce is always nothing but business. Even pleasant small talk is beyond him. He wonders what life must be like for Alfred, to have to live with the most anti-social billionaire playboy in history.
“Actually it’s not.” Clark says, “I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but what’s this I hear about WayneTech and Luthor Corp. having a very public business standoff?”
“That has nothing to do with Batman.” Bruce says shortly.
“I know, but tell Bruce Wayne, that Luthor is dangerous.”
“Obviously he already knows that,” Bruce scoffs.
“Wait, I’m behind. What’s going on between WayneTech and Luthor Corp?” Steve asks.
“It’s nothing.” Bruce says shortly.
“Luthor is trying to buy out parts of WayneTech.” Clark says.
“Which I’m not letting him do.” Bruce says.
“But certain members of the board is being very public in their support for this potential buy out.” Clark explains, “Like I said, I know it’s none of my business, just watch out for Luthor.”
“Your concern is noted.” Bruce says, “Now if that is all, I will see you next month.”
Steve frowns. He knows that not everybody is a natural born team player like him and Clark, but he worries for Bruce. A part of him wants to order Bruce back and force him to come back to the apartment so he can meet the cats and they can have drinks. Anything to let Bruce know that him and Clark have his back, both when he’s Batman and Bruce Wayne. But Bruce would ignore him if he tried, so Steve remains silent.
“Okay, but if Bruce Wayne comes into Metropolis for this Luthor business he should have lunch at the little sandwich shop across the street from the Daily Planet. It’s delicious.” Clark says. Bruce doesn’t answer, but Steve swears he sees the barest hint of a smile.
“He never sticks around long, does he?” Clark sighs as he watches Bruce disappear into the night.
“Give him time. I really think he’s starting to warm up to us.” Steve says.
“Yeah, I gue—” Clark tilts his head, “Bank robbery on Broad Street.”
“Go handle it.” Steve says as Clark takes off. Steve watches him fly away before leaping to the next building towards home. He takes a meandering route, stopping another mugging and helping a drunk woman get home, before landing on his apartment roof. It’s a nice night. Steve lingers on the roof, enjoying the breeze for a bit. Contentment washes over him. He never thought a year ago that this place would feel so much like home. He slips into his bedroom window. The house is silent. He does a quick check to be safe and finds Bucky asleep, with one of the cats.
Steve heads back to his room and shoos the other cats off his bed before turning in for the night. As he drifts off, he concludes that tonight had been another successful meeting for the Justice League.