DELETED SCENE #1:
DIANA AND STEVE VS. THE WORLD

Steve Rogers didn't know what to think when he stepped out of his apartment to find a familiar blond girl standing in front of him, sunglasses perched on her nose and a black leather jacket draped over her shoulders, covering a bright red shirt.

"Hi?" he greeted, unsure of what to do as he closed the door behind him, "Don't you have school?"

She shrugged, adjusting her sunglasses. "I'm skipping today. Nicky called and said that he needed someone to cover for a few hours since he can't take care of Rhett's class until later on, so I'm here."

Steve raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone. "He texted the exact same thing to me."

There had been an incident at Rhett's school that had caused all the teachers and substitute teachers to come down with a type of sickness that the Fantastic Four were still trying to remedy. That meant that the teachers had to find quick replacements and the school was too busy worrying about insurance to care much about the students.

Steve wasn't going to last long.

"I know," Diana said, beginning to walk out of the building, the man following her, unable to do much else, "He called and asked me to help since he heard you yelling to Rhett about how you're not good with kids. I'm not either, so this'll be fun."

"Is that why you're dressed like a biker's girlfriend?" he couldn't help but ask, and she laughed, taking off the glasses.

"Since I'm skipping school, my godsister—well, adopted sister now, I'm still getting used to this—wanted me to wear something rebellious so I could take pictures. Did it translate well?" She smiled up at him sweetly and he laughed, nodding as the two stepped out of the building and out onto the sidewalk.

"I gotta tell you, I'm really no good with kids," he sighed as they made their way to the school. It was still very early in the day, so they didn't have much to worry about, and he had to wonder just how early the girl had to wake up to get to him on time.

"So I've heard," she said, stifling a yawn, "So what about the Bill of Rights?"

He groaned as he remembered the conversation he had had with Rhett the night before which mainly consisted of him shouting about what he was supposed to do if they started to cry.

"What do I do, do I recite the Bill of Rights? Do I even know the Bill of Rights? Damn it, Rhett, I'm a national icon and I forgot the Bill of Rights, I can't take care of these children—"

Rhett had interrupted to remind him that, now, he was a war criminal, which meant that no one was going to expect him to know the Bill of Rights, let alone a group of second graders. After promising to make it up to him, the man had hung up and sealed Steve to his fate.

Diana giggled at the story, running a hand through her near white hair. "You'll do fine, Mr. America, just don't punch anyone and you'll be fine. Though I have to say, you really aren't good with kids, you nearly killed my boyfriend. Though Iron Dad did say you weren't really trying."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Iron Dad?"

She shrugged. "I don't see him as a father figure, but whenever I talk to him, he laughs when I call him that, so might as well let it stick."

The supersolider just smiled, stomach lurching as he caught sight of the school across the way. Looking down at the teenager, he took a deep breath. "Okay. We can do this. What could go wrong?"

º º º

Everything was going wrong.

Diana had gone out to the bathroom for a few minutes, her godbrother—adopted brother, now—having called. The moment she left, Steve was bombarded with a slew of questions regarding Rhett, how he was doing, and when they were planning on having their wedding.

"Kids, kids," he said, completely flustered and overwhelmed, "Why don't we just go back to our art until Mr. Green comes and you can continue whatever you guys were doing yesterday?"

"You're really bad at changing the subject," Mollie called out, and Steve was ready to go back to his usual script during his show pony days until he was able to leave.

"Why aren't you gonna get married to Mr. Reiser, you're dating now, that means you're in love," one of the other students called out, waving him over to show a very nice picture illustrating the wedding the two men were going to have, complete with an intricate flower bouquet and a flaming motorcycle stuntman.

"Well, it's not as easy as that kids, these things take time," he explained carefully, looking over towards Diana who had walked back into the classroom, "You really need to think about your feelings and how the other person feels, how well you work together, if you can stay together even when things go wrong."

"But love is also fun," Diana quickly added, nodding towards the man who nearly slumped over with relief, "Because it makes your stomach all weird and you get really happy whenever you see that person. Usually, at least. But just because things aren't always fun doesn't mean they're not good."

Mollie turned to look at her. "Do you know what it's like?"

The teenager shrugged slowly, thinking. "Maybe? You never really know, but maybe. I think I do."

"You think?" one of the called out, "Why don't you know?"

"Well the thing about love is you never really know," Steve explained, "There are all kinds of love and we all feel it differently, we all show it differently, and it's for a lot of different people. You just gotta figure it out on your own."

Mollie rolled her eyes. "That's weird."

Steve shrugged. "That's love."

She sighed. "My aunt Mona's got a girlfriend, but they don't wanna talk about getting married yet. But that's okay, I guess."

"Wow, I didn't expect this."

Everyone turned to find Nicky standing in the doorway with an armful of snacks, grinning at the scene. Diana squealed and ran over to hug him, snatching a chip bag out of his hands, only to have it be taken back again.

"Nicky," Steve breathed, "Oh thank God. Uh, this was fun, kids! I'll be back soon when Mr. Reiser feels better and school can go back to normal. Until then, be good for Mr. Green and...say bye to Diana!"

"Bye, Diana!" the kids all chorused and the girl smiled, waving as she slid out of the classroom, motioning for Steve to hurry.

The man wasted no time, racing out of the classroom, the two running out of the school grounds, not stopping until they were at the end of the block and away from the children. He was barely out of breath, but she was already winded, bent over and gripping her knees.

"Never again," he breathed, shaking his head, eyes closed, "Never. Again."

"Yeah, I had a feeling after they asked you what your favorite meme was," she laughed, taking a deep breath, her shoulders heaving.

"I thought you were going to cry after one of the boys called you ugly," he commented, remembering how upset she had looked before she had schooled her features and said that only ugly people could tell if other people were ugly.

"He's gonna grow up so ugly, and I'm gonna laugh. You hungry, it's almost lunch?" she coughed, standing up to place her hands on her hips, her sunglasses slipping down her nose.

"Why don't you just go back to school?" he asked, looking out towards the city, "You can get free food there, right?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah...but I don't get to eat burgers with Captain America at school. C'mon, man, I'll even pay. Please?"

He tilted his head, unable to stop himself from just looking at her, remembering the story she had told him. "Are you doing alright?"

She nodded, clearing her throat. "I'm alright. It's just easier to be really excitable then really down, right?"

He tried not to purse his lips at her comment. "Let's go get lunch."

She smiled, the two moving to cross the street. "See, what's the worst that could happen?"

º º º

The train ride to Midtown was, to put it lightly, a complete disaster.

The two had gotten to the station easily enough and were just waiting for the train. They were seated on one of the benches and Steve couldn't help but look around every few moments, adjusting his cap and forcing himself not to touch his glasses. Diana, with her sunglasses and somber look, kept nudging him trying to get him to calm down and relax, not to draw too much attention to themselves.

The only reason why this was a problem was because someone had grabbed Steve by the shoulder and started shouting at him. He didn't know what had happened and to this day, he still wasn't sure why the man was yelling, but suddenly his glasses were being thrown and Diana was rushing to get them back before anyone noticed him, and then Steve was crushing the man's hand as he tried to get him to relinquish his grip.

"You broke my fucking hand!" the man howled, gripping his wrist, and Steve had no other choice, but to grab Diana and pull her into the nearest train car, just before the doors closed.

"Is this the right train?" she asked, handing him the glasses which were, thankfully, intact and not malfunctioning.

"I don't know," he said, clearing his throat as some people cast them strange glances, having seen the display outside, "But we couldn't stay there."

"That rarely ever happens," she whispered, "But lots of these people are still suffering from what happened during The Incident. It's kind of like what Reagan did by closing literally all of the mental hospitals, everyone was thrown out onto the streets."

Steve sighed. "So this was my fault?"

She frowned, shaking her head. "I didn't say that. No one thinks that The Incident was your fault, not most people, at least. I don't, and my parents died."

He pulled her close, placing a protective arm around her as they stood, waiting to reach wherever the train was taking them. There was a nice calm around the two, and Steve, in that moment, felt safe.

That all came crashing down when a mariachi band stepped inside.

"Wow, that's loud," Steve groaned, bending down to whisper to Diana who had fallen asleep, the two having been able to snag some seats when some people got off.

"Yup," she groaned, "But what can you do?"

If you were the person sitting just next to the band, you knew exactly what to do. That is, you stood up and punched the guitar player square in the jaw, wrecking your knuckles in the process.

But, of course, that person was stopped by none other than Captain America himself. Though, because no one knew he was Captain America, the person tried fighting him as well, which went as well as could be expected. That is to say, his arm was grabbed, he was forced back into his seat, and the guitarist was taken care of by the teenage girl with that was accompanying the very strong man.

By the time the two made it to the diner that Diana had been so eager to show him some time before, they were exhausted and more than ready to just collapse. The emotional toll—and physical, in Steve's case—was enough to put them in a very quiet, rather sour mood.

"Well shit," Diana said, glancing up from her fries to check her pockets, "This is...fun."

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, looking up from his burger to catch her frustrated expression.

"Hold on, I'm just gonna do something really complicated," she said, holding up a hand and pulling out her phone, typing furiously and mumbling to herself.

She received a call midway through and picked it up instantly. "Look, I'm sorry, but I forgot it in my room and there's really no way around it. Please? I'll do your English for a full month. Thank you."

She put away her phone and continued to eat, ignoring Steve's suspicious look. Too tired to press further, he just decided to keep eating, finding that he was very comfortable in the diner they were sitting in.

An older woman approached them, smiling kindly, and Steve's heart jolted at the idea that, perhaps, she recognized him. However, his fears were soon alleviated the moment she spoke.

"I think it's lovely that you're taking your daughter out for dinner, it's so lovely to see that even young parents like yourself still care about spending quality time with your children, it's so lovely," she said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

"Oh, well, thank you, ma'am, but she's not my daughter," he said, smiling up at her, glancing over to Diana who was grinning behind her glass.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry," the woman said, blushing, pulling her hand away, "You two just look so alike. You aren't related?"

"No, but I get this a lot, at least with his boyfriend," Diana said, fishing out her phone from her pocket, showing the woman a picture of her and Rhett that Nicky had taken during Christmas Eve, "I think it's the hair, but I hear it's also the nose."

"Why, you three would make a very beautiful family," she said, reaching over to playfully smack Steve's arm, pointing to the picture of Rhett, "He's very handsome, don't let him get away."

Steve laughed, ducking his head as his ears turned red. "Oh trust me, I won't. You have a good day, ma'am."

"You as well," she laughed before heading out of the diner, disappearing from view.

"Steve," Diana began, pocketing her phone, "Let me just say that it would be an honor to be your daughter. I was just recently adopted, but I'm sure Rosie would be more than happy to grant you custody."

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Didn't you just see me at the school. No, I'm fine without kids for a while, thank you. By the way, what should we be worrying about?"

Diana lifted her head to smile at something behind him. "As of now, just getting home."

Steve turned to see a spider-shaped drone flying over towards them, a wallet clinging to its legs. It dropped down on their table and Diana stroked its head fondly as she pulled out some cash before pocketing the wallet.

"I had money," he pointed out.

"I offered to pay," she retorted.

Steve was about to argue when he caught sight of some people whispering to each other, motioning towards him. Clearing his throat, he motioned for the waitress, leaning forward to whisper. "I'll walk you home."

º º º

"This was fun, Cap," Diana said, turning around to face him as they stopped in front of her apartment building, "Let's never do it again."

The man laughed, looking away for a moment before nodding down at her. "Yes. Never again."

Before he could react, the girl was pulling him into a hug, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shirt. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back.

"This was the most interesting day I've had in a while," she said, pulling away, "I didn't really miss it, but it makes a pretty good story."

He scoffed. "It makes an awful story. But it was nice spending time with you, Diana. You're a good kid. Take care of yourself."

"You too!" she called out, watching as the man began to walk away, heading back towards Brooklyn. "Hey, wait!"

Steve turned around. "Yeah?"

"You, me, and Rhett," she said, "We should have a family night, go bowling or something."

The soldier just laughed and headed back home. Family night. It had a nice ring to it. Maybe that could work. Not now, but maybe later.

DELETED SCENE #2:
CARPOOL KARAOKE

Rhett didn't know what to think when Tony Stark pulled up in front of his school in a car that looked like it cost more than his life. He just gaped and gawked with everyone else as the man in the driver's seat just stared forward, sunglasses perched on his nose, looking as carefree and rich as he always did.

He watched as the man pulled out a notecard from his pocket and read, in a monotonous tone, "Get in loser, we're going shopping."

He cleared his throat and tossed the notecard to the side. "Well, that was...interesting. Uh, get in, Nicky's roommate, I'm taking you home since your roommate doesn't want you taking public transportation or heading home by yourself. Whichever you usually do."

Rhett couldn't do anything but nod, making his way around the car, trying not to run as his heart raced, stopping on the other side, unsure how to open the door. Tony most likely rolled his eyes behind his glasses, reaching out and opening the door from the inside.

"Thanks," Rhett breathed, stepping inside and closing the door, searching around for the seatbelt, pressing himself back into the very nice leather as Tony reached out and grabbed it for him, buckling him in.

"Okay, let's go," he said, backing out of the parking lot, only to take a different route than what Rhett usually took. Before the teacher could point that out, the man explained, "I wanna take the long way round, hope you don't mind."

"No, you're good," he coughed, surprised that he was able to get any words out at all.

"So Nicky tells me you're dating Steve now," Tony said, over the roar of the wind, "How's that."

"Oh God, are you gonna kill me?" Rhett asked, looking around to find that he didn't recognize his surroundings, "You're gonna kill me. Oh God."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Breathe. I'm just asking, it's a question. As adults, we can have a nice conversation about how it is you came to have seduced America's golden boy?"

"I have no idea," Rhett admitted, "Really, I think he was the one who seduced me, but he is really in love with my eyes and hot water."

"I knew I should've found him a nicer place, but he insisted on the bare minimum," Tony sighed to himself, leaning back in his seat, "Well, I'm glad you're looking out for him. What's the relationship like, have you..." he trailed off, waving one hand ambiguously.

Rhett couldn't help but smile, glancing away from the man. "Yeah. Yeah, we have. It's pretty great."

Tony reached out and patted his knee. "Congratulations. Do you want a cake? I should buy you a cake. A 'CONGRATS ON DEFLOWERING THE WORLD'S OLDEST VIRGIN.' I'm sure someone would write that, no questions asked."

Rhett laughed, leaning back in the seat. He sighed, turning to look at the man. "He worries about you, you know? When I first mentioned that you knew Nicky, he was so worried about you. He couldn't stop smiling when I told him you were talking to someone."

Tony cleared his throat. "Yeah, he's like that. Is he alright, I mean, he sometimes...sometimes things come back."

Rhett pursed his lips. "I'm not sure. I think he's alright. For the most part he is, but whenever he's out, he's always looking around. Hiding from someone you can't see isn't fun, let me tell you."

"I'm sorry that it's so hard. For the both of you," Tony said, his voice so quiet it was barely able to be heard over the wind, "If you need anything, just call, I'll see what I can do to help."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," he mumbled, glancing down to draw light patterns into the leather.

"Call me Tony," the other man said, and Rhett turned to look at him, surprised. He scoffed. "C'mon, Nicky's roommate, it's not that big of a deal."

"Yeah, but it's still nice to hear," Rhett said, "I hear a lot about you, Tony, but I never thought I'd actually get to see some of it for myself. How are you holding up?"

Tony cleared his throat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "Recently, things have actually been looking up, at least somewhat. I'm actually around people again, I...I don't know. I've lost two families now, I don't want to lose a third."

Rhett turned to look at him. "I know what it's like to lose people. I know that your first instinct is to distance yourself because on one hand you want to hold on and never let go, but you're also afraid. Afraid that they'll leave or that if you hold on too tight, you drive them away. You just gotta find yourself a nice balance. You have to let them in first, then they'll let you in."

Tony sighed softly. "Easier said than done."

He couldn't argue with that.

Rhett tapped the side of the car, unsure of what else to say. The two continued to drive in a tense kind of silence, the kind where both wanted to say something to the other, but weren't sure how to begin and where to start.

Before long, they were in front of Rhett's apartment and the man wasn't sure whether he wanted to get out just yet.

"We'll talk again later," Tony mumbled, and Rhett got out, mumbling a thank you and watching as the man drove away after one last jab about the silence between them.

They would talk later. Rhett would hold him to that.

DELETED SCENE #3:
NICKY VISITS STEVE

Steve wasn't sure if he was upset or not. Still reeling from the news that Rhett had given him, he was going through a rollercoaster of emotions, part of him upset, the other guilty, another wanting, a different one resigned. He wondered what he did to deserve this, before getting upset at himself for wondering. He kept daydreaming, imagining what his life would be like if Rhett had been able to come back, but he felt disgusted at himself for it, yet he couldn't help himself.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the glass being shoved into his hands. He looked down to see Rachel looking up at him sympathetically, giving him a small smile. "You look like you could use it."

Before he could say anything, she walked back to her usual spot, only a few friends surrounding her. He sighed and drank it, if only to get her attention away from him; it didn't affect him in the slightest, though the taste did leave his mood even more sour.

He sighed and slumped against the wall, pulling out his phone out of habit, only to find that he had no one to talk to. He had spoken to both Sam and Tony on the matter, asking their opinions and what they thought he should do, though there were aspects that he kept to himself, not wanting to share them just yet.

He didn't realize he kept so many secrets of his own.

That left a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach, remembering how calmly he had asked Rhett to leave, too numb to do anything else. The last image he had of the man was his beat up face looking at him, almost pleadingly, before nodding in understanding and leaving.

He missed Rhett. He really did. The man had been such an important part of his life, had somehow found his way inside and made himself right at home. Hell, he slept with the man. He missed him.

But he wouldn't be Steve Rogers if he wasn't terrible at knowing how to talk to someone he really cared about. At least, not right away.

"I know drinks don't really do much for you, but I'm sure you could use an ear."

Steve turned to his right, shocked to find Nicky standing behind the bar, dressed like all the other bartenders, smiling at him, holding a bottle in his hands, an empty glass sitting right in front of an empty barstool, right by the edge of the bar.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, unable to do anything else but sit.

"Just wanted to talk," Nicky drawled, pouring a drink into the empty glass, picking it up and downing it. He sighed, bending over the bar and looking Steve in the eye. "Rhett is a mess without you, I've never seen him so guilty."

Steve shrugged, bracing his forearms on the bar and shaking his head. "I don't know what to do, Nick, this is...I don't know."

"I know," Nicky said, "As a professional, I've met a lot of people like you. Well, not you exactly, but people who don't know how to deal with big news like this. And you need to figure it out by yourself, but I'm willing to listen and help you sort out the mess of emotions you're dealing with right now."

Steve smiled at him, because that's what people did when they were around Nicky. "Thank you, Nick, but I really think I need to figure it out on my own, talking things out isn't how I sort out my thoughts, that's more of Tony's line of work. Sam's tried to get me to do it, though, it only goes so far."

Nicky hummed. "Sam Wilson does counseling? Well, I'm glad you were able to find someone who was willing to listen, that's very important. And whatever works, you should do it. But you shouldn't just be alone."

Steve sighed. "In my case, I think I just need to be alone, just for a little while longer. Okay?"

Nicky nodded, moving back. "Okay. You have a point and that is completely valid, and I don't disagree with your choices. You should just take some time off, relax, read some fanfiction about yourself."

Steve blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, yeah," Nicky said, nodded as he stood, "There's a lot of fanfiction about yourself. I don't know, but Rhett is really into reading fanfiction about you. You and Tony mostly, though there are some about you and Thor that I've personally found interesting. Whatever, go check some out, you might find it interesting. A lot of people like writing ones about you and Bucky."

Steve just stared at him, remotely aware that his mouth was probably open. "What?"

Nicky reached out and patted his shoulder with one hand, sliding a key over the bar with the other. "I'll see you soon, Steve. If you ever need to drop by for any reason, use this."

Steve picked up the key, staring at it. It was small, insignificant, yet it held so much weight. He looked up to find Nicky walking away, putting the bottle back in its place and shaking hands with one of the other bartenders.

Just before he left, Steve called after him. "Fanfiction?"

He could hear Nicky's laugh as he disappeared into the back. "Have fun!"

Standing up, Steve made his way back to his usual spot against the wall, pulling out his phone and looking up 'CAPTAIN AMERICA FANFICTION,' finding himself staring at a very large search result list.

Needless to say, he had a lot of catching up to do.

DELETED SCENE #4:
SAM FROM HARLEM

Sam was a secretary now.

He worked as a secretary for an up-and-coming lawyer from Los Angeles. She was nice enough and paid well, grateful that he was willing to take the job that specifically asked for the person to not ask so many—i.e. any—questions; as long as he earned enough to pay his bills and have food to eat, he didn't care.

All he wanted was to get by.

He went by his mother's maiden name nowadays. Sam Thomas, secretary for Jennifer Walters, the up-and-coming lawyer from Los Angeles who must have a few skeletons hidden in her closet. Sam wasn't going to pry.

He had to thank Tony for helping him land this job. For helping him come out of hiding and find some semblance of normalcy after what happened in Germany. It was months after and Sam was starting to get antsy hiding out in Clint's farm, when they received a call from Tony, letting them know that General Ross had bigger fish to fry than them; it was safe to come out of hiding.

He didn't interact with Tony much. He and the man both helped Steve settle into an apartment in Brooklyn, back home like he wanted. Tony told Sam to stay close in Harlem, home sweet home. The only catch was he couldn't interact with Steve, or even let the man know he was in New York; it wouldn't be safe.

So Sam stayed as Sam Thomas, the man from Harlem who kept his head down and helped the old woman down the hall with her groceries because she was too feeble and her children were too busy.

"Your seven o'clock cancelled," he called out in the pitifully small office space, the door to his right being hidden from his site by a large filing cabinet, the door to his left being the exit, a few chairs filling the space between them.

There was a sigh before a woman stepped out from that office door, shaking her head. "I had a feeling that would happen. They probably paid him off or are blackmailing. Can you try again?"

"Calling the guy that either has a wad of cash or a gun to his head?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jen scoffed. "Well, we can't be sure until we try again. Put it on speaker."

Sam called again, the two listening in tense silence as it rang, the sound filling the small room.

A click. "H-hello?"

"Hi, Mr. Di Marco, just wanted to follow up. You're canceling?" Jen's voice was firm, but warm, something Sam found interesting about her; lawyers weren't warm.

"Y-yes, there's no problem anymore, it's fine, just keep the money, it's alright. Good day—"

"I'm afraid it's not that easy, Mr. Di Marco," Jen interrupted, stopping him, "I need to know if you're making this choice of your own volition."

There was a pause. Then the line clicked dead.

Jen sighed. "I'll make some calls."

"You want some help?" Sam asked, craning his neck as she walked away.

"I'm alright. Can you call to make sure my nine o'clock is still available?" she asked, phone already out and up to her ear.

"You got it, boss," he called out, flipping to the page in the planner and finding the number in the phone book. Theirs was a less modern approach, Sam finding it easier to use physical planners than ones on the computer desktop.

He dialed the number, pressing the cool plastic of the landline phone to his hear, the familiar ring soothing him as he waited for the inevitable unpredictability of the conversation; Jen tended to work with eccentric people.

It went to voicemail.

"Hi, Mrs. Ellis, this is Sam Thomas, I'm speaking for Jennifer Walters, just wanted to make sure you were still set for your appointment with her tomorrow at nine o'clock in the morning. If that won't be possible, please call back so we can sort it out, if not, have a safe day and she will see you tomorrow."

Jen poked her head out from her office to give him a smile. "You're getting really good at the spiel."

He smirked. "Learned from the best."

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly before moving back into her office, her voice trailing after her. "Jessica, please, you won't be doing much, just..."

Sam sighed as he leaned back in his chair. This was his life now. Answering the phone and setting up appointments. It wasn't awful, he liked Jen, but he missed his friends. He forgot how lonely he had felt after losing Riley, now the feeling was back with a vengeance.

The day ended painstakingly, but faster than it used to, and he was allowed to go home. He never left immediately, though, always waiting to make sure Jen didn't need more help or simply to say goodbye and let her know he was leaving; if something happened, she would be the only one who noticed he was gone.

"You need to have some fun, Sam," she said, stepping out of her office, "Live a little. Or at least go to a bar."

Sam thought back to the bar Steve now worked at, going by a new name as well, how they had laughed about it, though the laughter was strained. He wasn't allowed to go see him, which meant he couldn't go drinking there.

"Maybe," he sighed, trying to give her a reassuring smile that she saw right through, "See you tomorrow, Jen."

"Bye, Sam," she said, disappearing back into her office room.

So Sam went home. Back to his apartment in Harlem which wasn't far away from where he used to live with his parents and siblings way back when.

At the thought of his parents, he shoulders jerked. He didn't like to think of them. His apartment also wasn't far away from the church where his father was a minister. He thought back to the books he still had from when he was sixteen, from his father after he had insulted him, only to be met with acceptance and given the resources to make his own choices.

His apartment wasn't far from where his father was killed.

He thought to his mother, who should have been there to see him graduate. She died a block from their house, a block away from his current apartment.

He didn't talk to his siblings as much as he should.

Sam made his way to his apartment in Harlem, the Subway clanking along as he stood, trying to keep his thoughts from going too deep.

The subway clanked along as he made his way home. Home sweet home, that was what Tony said as he helped him move in, after the two helped Steve.

"It's not gonna be the same without you," Tony had said, squeezing his shoulder.

Sam gave him a wry smile. "Didn't you say you were selling the Tower soon?"

Tony's smile had become more strained. "It's just better for us to be somewhere else. All of us."

So Sam from Harlem stayed in Harlem, Steve from Brooklyn stayed in Brooklyn, and the Avengers had now just moved to their new facility.

He was still reeling from the knowledge that no one helped that one guy he had fought in Germany from stopping that plane. If he had his wings, he could've helped, but it seemed like Tony had given those to someone else.

He sighed as he made his way up the stairs, pulling out his keys. He smiled at his neighbor who was doing homework outside of her apartment, headphones up.

"Roommate's got people over?" he asked as she tugged down the headphones.

She scoffed. "Yeah, but when does he not?"

"You wanna come in for a bit, my couch is comfier than the floor," he said, opening the door and motioning inside.

She smiled, but shook her head. "Thanks, Mr. Thomas, but I'll pass."

"Okay," he said, giving her a reassuring smile, before stepped inside and closing the door and locking it behind him.

He stretched and looked around his apartment. It was a two bedroom because he and Tony agreed that if anyone needed a place to stay, he would be the first to offer. Steve got a studio apartment because it was Brooklyn and he wasn't going to be seeing anyone anytime soon.

It was lonely, but it was small enough to be cozy. He looked towards his kitchen, frowning when he saw the pantry door wide open.

Heart racing, he grabbed a spatula from the nearest drawer and made his way to the pantry; the knives weren't close enough to him.

Peering inside, he found that his things were strewn about, but there was no imminent danger. He wanted to believe he had done this in his sleep, but that was unlikely.

Spatula still in hand, he made his way to the rooms, fearing for the worst. If something happened, no one would know he was gone.

Jen would go to his funeral. She was nice like that.

He reached the guest room first, the door creaking as he opened it. He inwardly cursed, expecting to be jumped the moment it opened. He raised the spatula, ready to fight.

The room was empty.

He checked the closet and under the spare bed just to make sure—it wasn't the best bed, but Tony was willing to do a lot—and found nothing.

That only left his room. His mind flashed to all the missions he had gone on, all the times he could have died, but didn't.

Murdered in his own home. A Wilson family trend, it seemed.

The door to his room, he discovered, was slightly open, but closed just enough that he couldn't catch it right away.

Sam was terrified.

He pushed it open and looked inside, ready to fend for his life. He expected them to hide in his closet or behind his bed or even just jump out at him.

He didn't know what he was expecting. He was thinking of a lean man with a weapon or powers or a brawny man with either, both, or neither. He might have even expected a woman, he knew what Natasha was capable of.

He didn't expect to find Tony sitting on his bed, eating chips and watching a YouTube video on proper parenting.

"What the shit, man?" Sam sighed, letting the spatula fall to his side, "What are you doing?"

Tony closed out of the YouTube video setting the bag of chips to the side and licking his fingers clean, wiping them onto his not as expensive, but still very nice looking pants. He stood in front of Sam, clasping his hands together.

"Sam Wilson," he began, giving him a small smile, "You're free to go."

Sam blinked. "I'm on the run, Tony, you can't just say I'm free to go, I escaped."

"Yeah, I know," Tony said, walking past him and patting him on the shoulder, "But now you can go visit Steve, tell him that you're not actually in D.C. like we've both been saying, but have actually been in Harlem this entire time."

"Why now?" Sam asked, turning to watch him go, completely floored, "Why—what?"

"Trust me," Tony said, opening the door of the apartment, looking at Sam from the other end of the hall, "He has a lot of explaining to do. Besides, who wants to spend New Year's alone?"

Sam watched as the man exited the apartment, leaving him to stare. He made a small noise in the back of his throat, picking up the file that Tony had left on his bed, flicking through it, eyebrows raising as he continued to read. Steve did have a lot of explaining to do.

Looks like he was going to Brooklyn.