A Little Talk
When Steve wakes up the first thing he notices is how much his side hurts, just below the ribs. It burns in a way that almost cancels out how cold he feels. He shivers. Someone has draped a worn blanket over him. It’s a thoughtful gesture, but it doesn’t do much to protect him from the cold wood floor he’s lying on. Which is strange, because he definitely wasn’t lying on a wood floor when he passed out. He looks around in the dim light. This isn’t his apartment either. That realization sends him sitting up. He gasps as the sharp pain in his side makes his vision go blurry.
“Lay down,” a voice says gently. A woman’s voice. For one confused jumbled up second Steve thinks it’s his mother’s voice. Then he catches sight of a red headed woman curled up on a chair watching him.
He blinks at her.
“Lay down.” She repeats.
Clearly he’s dreaming. It’s really the only thing that makes sense. His last fight ended with him getting hit a bit too hard and now he’s dreaming he is in a strange apartment with a strange lady. Perhaps she’s supposed to be his sister in this dream, because that’s the first thought that comes to his mind when he looks at her. The way a small worried frown tugs at her lips and her eyes are watching him closely for any signs of discomfort; she looks at him exactly like how Bucky looks at him. He lays back down, exhausted but comforted by thought of his dream sister watching over him. As he drifts off to sleep, his last fleeting thought is how he wished it could have been his mother.
The next time Steve wakes up light is streaming through the window. His dream sister is still sitting in the chair, dozing this time. He blinks. He blinks again. She doesn’t disappear and Steve is pretty sure he is awake and lucid this time. Not a dream then. Steve looks around. A dark haired man and blonde man are arguing, trying to keep their voices low. Steve recognizes the dark haired man immediately. He thinks he might recognize the blonde man too, but his memories of yesterday are a bit fuzzy.
His side stings painfully in a way that makes his chest tight and he focuses on keeping his breathing steady.
“Are you crazy Barton? He’s never going to believe that.” The dark haired man scoffs. He’s animated, never fully sitting still despite how tired he looks.
“Then what do you think we should tell him?” The other man, Barton, asks.
“How about the truth?”
Both men jump at the sound of his voice. To be perfectly honest Steve is a bit surprised with himself as well. The dark haired man flashes him a dazzling grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
“Steve, good to see you awake. How ya feeling?”
Steve cocks his head at the stranger, glaring. Not sure how to answer, or even interpret, the question he ignores it.
“Who are you?” Steve asks furiously, “You’re the loony who has been following me. What’s your problem pal? Why are you stalking me?”
The two men share a look. Barton opens his mouth and then closes it.
"Can you give us a moment before we answer that?" The dark haired man says. Steve looks like the only thing keeping him from jumping up and punching the both of them is the bullet wound in his side, keeping him from making any fast movements. Instead, Steve contents himself by trying to burn a hole in their heads through sheer force of will. The two men do their best to ignore the uncomfortable glare.
"Tell him the truth. He's not stupid and this will be easier for us if he trusts us." The woman is sitting up now, looking alert.
"Yeah, but Cap said-"
"Yeah, well Cap's plan to stay incognito went out the window when we let him get shot." She says flatly.
"And I think I have a right to know why someone tried to kill me" Steve says, inserting himself back into the conversation. He gives them all his sternest look. The one that even makes Bucky back down occasionally when he's being too smothering.
"He's giving us his disproving look. We can't lie to Cap’s disapproving look" the dark haired man groans, and if he hadn't sounded so sincere, Steve would have suspected that he was being made fun of.
"Alright, alright. The truth. I'm Clint Barton, that's Natasha Romanov, and he's Tony Stark." The blonde man says.
"Stark, are you related to Stark Industries?" Steve asks. Tony's lip twitch.
"Kid, I own the company"
"No you don't. Howard Stark does. You guys promised me the truth. That wasn't even a good lie. Half the papers are talking about Howard Stark right now" Steve scowls at them.
"Actually, Howard Stark is my father" tony says, and there is a note of bitterness in his tone that nobody presses.
Instead Steve zeroes in on this new lie, "He's too young to have a son your age."
If this was some bizarre attempt to distract him from the truth it is a very poor attempt.
"Now he is, but someday he's going to be my father" Tony says. Steve cocks his head. Maybe these people weren't trying to lie to him. Maybe they were just crazy. He glances at the door, be doubts he could make it before someone tackled him. They all looked in much better shape than him. Plus, walking right now seems like a monumental task at the moment.
"Time travel Steve, we’re from the future." Natasha says bluntly, clearly impatient with the way the other two are dancing around saying it. Oh, so definitely crazy then. Maybe he should try for the window. Natasha follows his gaze.
"Don't you dare try to jump out the window. We aren't crazy." She says.
"Besides we can prove it" Clint says. He takes something small and black out of his ear. He approaches Steve slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal. Steve holds out his hands expecting Clint to drop it in them. He ignores Steve’s hands and hooks it around his ear.
"Testing. Testing. Steve Rogers" Tony says and Steve's eyes grow wide when he realizes that Tony’s voice is right in his ear. He pokes the device.
"A radio?" He asks.
"Sort of. A communicator" tony says.
"Where are the wires?"
"Doesn't need them" tony says.
“It’s so small,” Steve says in awe.
“I bet you’ve never seen anything like this before have you?” Tony asks. Steve shakes his head.
"Did you invent this?" Steve asks, taking it out of his ear to examine it closer.
"Nah, I invent impressive things. That's nothing special." Tony says.
"Seems pretty swell to me" Steve says handing it back to Clint, "so you really are from the future...but why did someone try to kill me?"
The three exchanged looks.
"How up are you on current events?" Tony asks.
"Enough. I read the papers. Is this about the war? War is coming, isn't it? Hitler just invaded Poland last month." Steve says.
"Yeah, war is gonna happen. Good news; we win. Bad news; hydra is a bunch of sore losers so they are trying to change the outcome of the war in their favor."
"Tony, I said tell the truth, not tell him everything" Natasha snaps.
"Hydra? That's what the man who shot me said. Why did he want to kill me, I've got nothing to do with the war" Steve says
"Not yet, but trust me you've got a part to play. One that hydra very much wants you not to play. That's why we're here. We'll be your personal body guards until we can nab the wanna-be assassin and take him back to our time" Tony says.
Steve shakes his head, "I believe you're from the future and all, but I think you might have the wrong Steve Rogers. You're probably looking for a soldier or politician or something."
"Trust me kid, I've met you, and you are definitely you," Tony says. Steve gives him a doubtful look, like he's questioning both the truth of Tony's claim and his sanity.
“Okay pal,” Steve says neutrally, and Tony isn’t fully sure if he believes him or not. Steve checks his watch, “I’m late for work. I have to go.”
“Right now, Hydra thinks you’re dead, but it probably won’t stay that way for long,” Natasha says stopping him, “We have to keep you safe until we can catch him and bring him back to our time.”
“Plus you just got shot yesterday, so I’m pretty sure that’s grounds for a day off,” Clint adds.
“I have to go in,” Steve says attempting to stand up. It doesn’t work.
“We just told you that you’re important to the entire future and you want to put it all at risk so you can work at a grocery store?” Tony asks. Steve glares at him and then looks away his cheeks flushing.
“I need the rent money,” He says quietly. There’s a bit of a stunned silence. Clint recovers the quickest, “We will get you the rent money, just stay here.”
“What am I supposed to tell Mr. Dilworth? What am I supposed to tell Bucky? They’ll both have a fit if they know I’ve been shot.” Steve says.
“No, nobody is allowed to know that. Everything we told you is strictly confidential,” Natasha says.
For a second it looks like Steve is going to argue. They tense ready for an argument. All of them have argued with Steve before, Tony on average once a day, so they knew what to expect; a long drawn out debate where voices were never raised, but tempers flare. Then Steve deflates, arguments never leaving his lips.
“Sure thing, can I at least go change my shirt?” He asks. He plays self-consciously with what is left of his shirt, stained with dried blood.
“I’ll walk you to your apartment.” Clint volunteers. Steve looks at him and then out the window, where there is a clear view of Steve’s empty apartment.
“I think I can make it there and back without dying,” Steve says and there is an edge in his voice that suggests that this time he won’t back down.
“Of course, we’ll just keep watch from over here then.” Tony says smoothly. Steve hurries out of the room as fast as he can go, as if afraid that if he lingers too long they will try to follow him. His whole body aches and tingles with exhaustion. He’s careful to keep any expression of pain off his face as he walks across the street, mindful of three sets of eyes him.
Steve keeps his head down as he enters his apartment building. He’s not too concerned about anyone making a fuss, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s come home covered in his own blood, but better safe than sorry. He enters his apartment and looks out the window. He can see the three of them standing at the window, not even trying to be subtle about watching him. It’s creepy and he fights the urge to close the curtains. He doubts that will do anything, but send them running over to knock down his door. Steve flashes them a thumbs up to show that he made it across the street with no attempts on his life.
Leaving them to their stakeout, Steve goes into his room and changes his clothes, tossing his now unusable shirt in the trash. Bloodstained that it is, it wouldn’t even make a usable rag. More importantly, he would prefer Bucky not to see just how blood soaked his shirt had become.
Speaking of Bucky… It wasn’t the first time one of them hadn’t come home for the night. Both were grown men, free to come and go as they pleased. But if he didn’t come home and missed his shift Steve was sure Bucky was going to be concerned. Steve knows he can’t tell Bucky the truth. Even if he could, he really doesn’t want to tell Bucky that an assassin from the future is out for his blood. He can’t imagine any way to have that conversation that doesn’t end with Bucky forcibly hiding him under the bed for his own protection.
Still he can’t just disappear on his best friend. He grabs his drawing pad and pencil. He scribbles out a quick note.
Hey Buck,
Got into a nasty fight last night. Mrs. Connell saw the whole thing and made me spend the night. You know how she frets about me. It’s like she thinks I go out looking for trouble. Anyway, I missed the first part of my shift for work, so I’m going to stay late to make up for it. Not sure when I’ll be home. Try not burn the apartment down trying to cook your own dinner.
Steve
He rereads the letter. Nothing suspicious about it and Mrs. Connell’s memory has gotten so bad she wouldn’t remember even he had stayed the night at her place. Satisfied he leaves the note out of view of the others, but where Bucky will easily find it. Steve isn’t sure if the other’s will approve of it, but he really doesn’t care, they can’t just expect him to drop everything and hide under a rock until they get a handle on their assassin problem. Besides, he’s not fully sure of how much he trusts them. Their story is outlandish. He isn’t even sure which part is the most unbelievable; the time travel or the fact that someone who had the power of time travel would waste time going after him.
It was strange though, how quickly he had believed him. A voice in his head, that sounded a lot like Bucky, chides him on his gullibility…but despite that he couldn’t bring himself to disbelieve them. It wasn’t even the communicator device that convinced him either, it was the way they looked at him, like they knew him. The way Natasha had watched over him last night, or the way Clint and Tony kept smiling at him like he was the funniest thing they had ever seen. From their perspective he could even see the humor, they clearly came from pretty far in the future. He was probably an old man. It must be amusing to see such an elderly friend so young and clueless. Plus, there is a protectiveness that radiates from all three of them that he has only ever felt from his mother and Bucky. It’s comforting, and his instincts say trust it, and Steve Rogers is a man who always trusts his instincts.
Steve locks the apartment door and makes his way back across the street.