Five Years Later

"Teeny, it's time for lunch!"

"Teeny!"

"Anthonia!"

"Anthonia Margaret Morales it's lunch time! Last call or I'm eating this peanut butter sandwich! I think I did good this time!"

Steve paused, gently setting the knife down to balance on the rim of the jar, waiting to hear the reply from his granddaughter with a trained ear. It was his first time on solo babysitting duty while you took Brooke out to lunch after doing her final fitting for her wedding dress earlier that morning. Your home in Brooklyn had never felt smaller despite it being only you and Steve there now, but the flurry of Avengers past and present travelling through it for the upcoming nuptials had left the two of you yearning for a moment alone. Today, however, Steve wouldn't have traded these few hours with his girl for anything.

"Define lunch or be disintegrated," came the tiny voice from the far side of the kitchen. He turned to look at her and stopped, jumping slightly and knocking the sticky knife onto the floor as his elbow bumped it just enough to send it flying and crashing down.

"Woah, hold on, where did you get that?" he hurried across the room, removing the helmet from her little head. "That's Uncle Ant's helmet for his suit, baby. You can't be playing with that, it's not safe."

"No, it's not," Anthonia argued, "I found it in the garage."

"In the garage? What were you doing out there?"

"I was looking for somethin'."

"Hmm," Steve smirked, "was that somethin' this?"

"I was looking for the shiny hand thing with the light in the middle and found this," the little girl shrugged, her gaze dropping to the floor though her smile continued. "I wanted to shoot at the target Uncle Clint gave me but Mom won't let me have any arrows."

With a gentle roll of his eyes that came naturally and unable to hide, Steve snickered and shook his head, "can't imagine why. But sweetie, this helmet has to be... Uncle Ant's...wait..." he stopped, turning it over in his hands several times until they froze to a halt in his realization. They began to shake just a bit and his breaths caught in his chest, but he was unable to stop the rim of tears lining his lashes. "This was your great-grandpa Tony's," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, Grandpapa," Anthonia hurried to answer, her own tears now building in pure terror of her mistake of being caught. Tony's belongings were held in reverence on most occasions and she had been well educated on how she was never to risk breaking any of them by playing near where they were stored. "I didn't mean to take it, I promise. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, sweetheart," Steve offered quietly, his eyes still locked on the sight in his hands, "we can put it back and no one needs to know."

"Are you sure you won't tell Grammyma (Y/N)?"

"I won't tell her."

"If you have to, it's okay," the girl replied stoically now, chin up and eyes looking at Steve with determination to hold her resolve. She couldn't break in front of him; he was the strongest and bravest man in her life and she never wanted to let him down. "I did something wrong, and I'll tell her that I'm sorry too. Don't lie for me, Grandpapa Steve, I can take it."

Steve paused and turned the helmet to face her, "look, nothing happened. All you did was bring it to me, right? To make sure that I put it somewhere that you maybe can't get to next time, okay? No harm done."

"Okay," she smiled widely, and the moment of fear was washed away as fast as it had come. Pushing up on her tip-toes she tried to look past him but he was far too big for her tiny frame to get around. "You didn't really eat my sammich did you?"

"No, I didn't," he chuckled in return, "so grab a chair and you can get started while I put this away. Say goodbye to great-grandpa Tony." He held the helmet up for her as she hopped into her seat, waiting for her to put a small kiss on its cheek.

"Bye bye, Greatpapa," she paused, leaning in closer to whisper, "I'll find you again tomorrow."

~~~

It didn't feel real, much like the day that you had found out that your daughter was to become a mother herself, but now you found yourself watching in awe as she spun slowly before you, looking into a group of mirrors around her to show all of the angles of the fifth wedding dress that she would try on that day. She was easily beautiful in every one of them that you had seen so when she had asked for your opinion it really was nearly an impossibility to choose one. It had become so difficult that you had stopped to consider that maybe she should've asked her father to do this instead. All she'd have to do is watch for which one elicited the most tears from the guy.

"I think...yeah, I think this is the one," Brooklyn smiled widely, turning towards you. "Mom, what do you think?"

"I think it's perfect, sweetie. They've all been perfect, but this one...this one has made you smile like the others haven't yet, so I think you're right."

"Hmm," she smiled to herself, her hands smoothing down the silk front, gently touching the small diamonds that embellished the material. Her smile didn't last, however, as her mind did the same thing that yours would have if you had been in her place; it was a trait that you had handed down to your daughter, no matter how much you had tried to save her from the fate for her entire life thus far. "Do you think it's too much? I haven't even looked at the price-"

"Honey, you'll get whatever you want," you stopped her. "Grandpa left you money in an account for nothing else but the day you'd get married, so you use it for whatever your heart wants, okay? He wouldn't want you to worry about the tag on that dress for one second, and you know that."

Brooklyn knew that you were right, but her upbringing with Steve had left her with the need for realistic ideas and to not take advantage of the charms and advantages that had come with her name. He had grown up with nearly nothing, and despite the changes he had seen in his life after his rebirth to his second chance at living it and the advantages that came with it, he would always remember those days of being thankful for even the smallest thing that he could call his own. "Mom?"

"Hmm?'

"I think I'm going with the first dress."

"Okay, whatever you want."

"It's close to this one, but I think I can work with it a bit more."

"What do you mean?"

Brooklyn turned back to the mirror, "would you be okay if I wore your dress? I think if I get this one and make a few changes with both of them, I could make something really wonderful, and it would be my own." She paused at the reflection of you just behind her, your face carrying a bit of shock and confusion. Turning back to you quickly, she put her hands up to halt any idea that you'd be upset by it. "But if you don't want me to, that's totally fine, and I...I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry. That's your dress, and I shouldn't have thought about changing it."

"Sweetheart, if that's what you want, then I'm thrilled," you reassured her. "Of course, you can have it, and do anything you want with it. I can't wait to see your ideas."

"Really? Do you think Dad will be fine with it too?"

"Baby, you could walk down the aisle in a paper bag and that man is going to be a weeping mess at how beautiful you'll be. Trust me, he's going to love it."

~~~

When you had returned home later that evening, Steve had successfully put Toni to bed and cleaned up the mess she had left behind in nearly every room of the compound. The two of you had reluctantly decided to spend the last few years there, allowing Brooke and Miles to stay in your Brooklyn home while they focused on their wedding. They would look for their own place after that and took advantage of the offer you had given them to take that bit of stress from their lives. With the younger kids becoming the newest team of Avengers, Steve had felt safer being at the compound anyway, and more of a help to each of them as they adjusted to their new roles.

The man had never stopped to consider that he wasn't as young as he once was and being a part of the team was far more exhausting now. By the time you found him, he was sprawled out over one of the lounge couches, snoring loudly enough that you didn't even have to ask FRIDAY where he was.

"Steve," you nudged him gently, "it's late, let's go upstairs."

"Nooooooo," he groaned, pulling his blanket up and over his head, "I just got the kid to sleep and I've barely stopped moving all day till now."

"If you get up you know that bed is much more comfortable."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. I'll be there."

"Ugh," he grumbled, lowering the blanket slightly and kicking it away from his feet, "you know, it's hard to argue with you when you're right."

"Then after all of these years, I really don't understand why you keep trying."