Steve sat down at the center console, a sharp breath blown out his mouth.

The mission was a success, overall. A splinter group of the organization Coulson's team had been clashing with (an almost rogue form of HYDRA) had found its way down to the nation's capital. The group had been digging through the remains of the Triskelion, determined to get to the buried lower levels and retrieve anything that had been left behind. Not there was anything of value for them to find; Fury had verified that all that was left of the lower decks were building implements and electrical parts. Certainly, those could be salvaged to build some new machinery, but anything that brushed intelligence had already either been dumped via Romanoff's handiwork, or erased completely. The alarms had sounded, and the Avengers were on the way, all of them advancing with SHIELD's blessing.

The team had a terrific handle on the situation. However, his presence had been requested, not only by Fury but Barnes as well. Both of them understood the need to have Steve in the area, and as soon as they called him and told him the destination, he understood, too. Though he was no longer Captain America, it would not do for him to not at least supervise in some capacity over the work in Washington, D.C.

He'd gone with, his suit donned and his shield on his harness just in case things took a terrible turn. With Sam's Redwing unit deployed, he was able to watch the progress of the others (night vision was a glorious thing, even if everyone showed up on a sickly green frequency). He radioed in every now and again for checks, pointedly pocketing certain medical items in his belt pack in preparation. However, a small pack of ten had torn off from the main group, stumbling in the dark until ran broadside into the quinjet. Frowning, Rogers felt there was only one thing left to do. Exiting the craft, he squared his shoulders as the hatch opened, the faces of those who had attempted to escape creasing in frustration and anger when they spotted him. Launching into action, he dispatched them fluidly, his touch not lost despite the lack of regular action. He'd kept in form for a reason, and he was glad to have done so as he vaulted over a fallen enemy, slamming the sole of his boot into the chest of another. His shield reflected the bullets of those smart enough to withdraw their weapons. Upon being flanked, he pressed the secret latch on the inside, the shield separating onto both arms. The deflections were devastating, and within minutes, the lost men were all on the ground, either knocked out or too injured to escape. As he zip tied those he'd fought, he'd heard the command from Bucky to start clean-up. The leader of the outfit had surrendered, and it was time to process everything.

Unfortunately, they'd also drawn the attention of the media with their arrival and fight, helicopters and news vans flooding the bridge right after the police and other law enforcement vehicles arrived. Rogers, having hauled over his opponents with the help of the Vision, had spotted the first wave of reporters pushing out of their vans, cameras and microphones at the ready. The law enforcement officers had put down restrictive sawhorses immediately, but they leaned over the barriers, shouting and calling for the Avengers, for the captain and the commander, to give them a word.

Well, up to a point, which was why Steve had returned to the quinjet well before Bucky had. He tapped a finger against the console as humor lit his irises, his earpiece still tapped in as Barnes finally wrapped up the final interview and was making his way back. Under his breath, he spouted out what could only be curses in Russian, and Steve was hard-pressed to withhold his chuckles as drew off his helmet and waited. Soon enough, hard stomps made their way up the hatch, the coiled energy of the new Captain America being expelled through terse movements and harsh glares. As he slung his rounded shield onto his harness, Bucky's gaze shot over Steve, and the other fellow cleared his throat.

"How'd it go?" he asked, the innocence in his features belied by the tiny, little smirk on his lips. He watched as Bucky drew back the masked cowl of his uniform, a choice hand gesture flashed at him mere seconds later.

"You're an ass," he growled, and Steve couldn't help the bubble of laughter in his chest. From up in the cockpit, he caught a smattering of snickers. Suffice it to say, Bucky had heard those, too, and he glared in that direction as well. "And shut up, Wilson."

Rogers tutted under his breath, a mocking chide for Barnes to fix his attitude met with another obscene gesture. From the left wing, another voice rang out, amusement laced beneath the musical flow of words.

"Hope you were better behaved with the press. They can be sort of sensitive," Natasha said, sidling out of the wing and up to her partner. Her wounds, minor as they were and already bandaged, did not stop her as she approached him. Bucky's gaze turned to her, the annoyance in them barely softening.

"You're not helping," he grumbled. Arching an eyebrow at her, he asked, "Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

The fiery redhead laid her palm on his arm, sliding it down to lace with his. "Most times."

With that, Natasha led him away, smacking at the button to seal the hatch behind him. Wilson sat at the helm, Lang in the copilot's chair in yet another attempt to teach him some flying basics. Along the right bank of seats, Wanda was curled up beside the Vision, the android curling an arm around her as she dozed off, his electric blue eyes focusing on a point along the far bulkhead. Everyone was onboard, safe and sound. With the remaining hour of flight to fill, the commander tapped at the console, drawing up a digital keyboard and typing at the interface. Since he had the time, he began a preliminary report, swiftly emailing it to Hill, Fury, and Chapman as well. Inspecting his digital inbox, he reviewed a message sent in from the field leader across the pond. Apart from a few hiccups off the coast of Portugal and Madagascar, there was little to report that week. Pietro and Crystal were on a recon mission at the moment (though Joe jokingly called it a mini-break holiday, whatever that was), and Duquesnes and Guerrero had called in Katie Bishop to examine files that had links to her parents' company. Their contacts in the CIA—rather, his contact, but he wasn't about to split hairs; if he and Sharon were happy with their situation, Steve wasn't going to say anything against it—were about to conduct a tour and review of the Raft, and the promise of note-sharing had been passed. Though it was all going to be off-the-books, Rogers looked forward to their assessment; it had been months since any of the Avengers had set foot in the place, the prison giving them all chills when they'd toured it. Perhaps the CIA would cooperate with Hawley, speak about improvements after several other government agencies had a chance to look at the facility.

He was torn out of his musings as Lang's voice rang out from the cockpit, warning them all to prepare for landing. Exiting out of his email and shutting down the console, Rogers fetched up his shield and helmet, standing as soon as the landing gear touched the rooftop platform. The adrenaline of the night's events had drained away, and he felt exhausted. So much had been done that night, and there was so much to do during the day as well. Blinking, he stifled a yawn, shuffling alongside his teammates and telling them that their own reports needed to be in by Monday. Muttered agreements and yawns were volleyed back at him, and he took that as assent.

"You gonna make it home, dude?" Sam asked him as they headed across the platform to the elevator bank. There were a few that had rooftop access, but as a whole, the team were converging upon one all the way to the left, as it had access to the private apartments at the back. Steve shot him a sidelong glance, huffing out a breath.

"It's only fifteen minutes. I'll be fine," he said, getting into the conveyance and punching the button for the garage levels, which it also had access to. As they all rode down, he rested his hands on his belt, letting the small smatterings of conversation flutter around him. His team, his friends, were all right; there were minimal injuries, minimal damage, and there were apprehended leaders of the splinter sect for Coulson to interrogate. Not a bad mission at all, he mused, pleased with the end results. The elevator stopped on the floor for the Avengers' quarters, good-nights bid as all but one got off. Nodding to his team, Rogers murmured, "See you all tomorrow."

Affirmation of that fact given by his friends, the elevator doors closed again, leaving him on his own as he made it to the underground levels and to his truck. Within minutes, he was tearing out of the base, turning off the access road and on his way home. The drive itself yielded no issue, apart from the fact that his eyelids drooped on and off. Rolling down the window and letting the cool, night air flood the cab of the truck helped quite a bit, enough so that he pulled up his driveway and disarmed the security protocols for the property. The truck lumbered into the garage, the engine ticking in a cool-down as he shut it off. For a few minutes, he leaned his head back against the rest, nearly falling asleep there. Shaking his head violently, he pushed the door open, keys grabbed along with his helmet and shield. Going to the back door, he typed in the security codes as quickly as he could, a heavy breath pouring out his nose as he was eventually let into his house. Save for the click of the air conditioning, the house was silent, though JJ quietly reported that Holly and Grant were safe upstairs, as well as Bonnie. Locking up the back door, Steve moved as silently as possible to the living room, his shield and helmet placed on the floor as he slumped onto the couch. Inwardly, he was shouting at himself to take his boots off and head upstairs to bed, but he knew he couldn't make it that far.

Instead, he stretched out on the sofa, promising himself that he would rest for an hour, and then complete the trip. Upon a half-garbled command, JJ dimmed the lights slowly, lulling him into sleep.

The next thing he was aware of was something cold and wet nuzzling at his fingertips. His hand twitched away from the cold intrusion, but it had returned, followed by the sound of panting. Pulling his palm onto the cushion beside him, he turned onto his back, thinking that was the end of it.

A sharp, high-pitched yip shook him totally out of slumber, and he groaned. Miss Bonnie refused to be ignored, he thought dully as his other palm swiped over his face. Without opening his eyes, he let his arm flop over the edge of the cushion, patting down the little corgi's furry body for a few seconds. Thus satisfied, she scampered away, nails clicking and more yips resounding.

What got him to open his eyes was the sound of soft chuckles, and a happy, babyish croon cutting through the air. Slowly, his lids slid back, and he was met with the sight of Holly holding their son, looking at him from behind the couch. Her eyebrows raised as he smiled lazily at her, her tongue clicking as the little guy waved at him.

"And here I thought the days where you wore the suit home from work were over," she said, the tremor of a tease in her tone. Sitting up, Steve registered her words as she handed Grant to him over the back of the sofa, snorting even as he gave the little guy a hug and kiss good-morning.

"Can't exactly do sweeps in a button-up and khakis, sweetheart," he told her, placing the baby on the floor and turning him toward the basket of toys by the arm chair. As the little guy toddled over and dumped out a few of the plastic animals within, the commander tilted his head back against the cushion and let out a slow breath. "Had a little action down in D.C. to take care of."

Holly dipped her chin as she came around and sat down beside him. After all, he'd gotten the call just as they were getting ready for close up the house for the night. Obviously, she hadn't known the details, but she had worried all the same as he hastily sped out the door. The mission, no doubt, was one the team could handle themselves, but he had gone mostly due to the location of the action, she'd surmised then.

"Couldn't have been a helicarrier crashing, we would've heard the news by now if that was the case," she speculated aloud, half-joking as she twitched at the hem of her sleep shorts.

Steve shook his head, confirming her suspicions. "Nah. Just some rogue agents who couldn't stay ahead of our lead. Buck got roped into talking for the news this time, asking about his first year as captain."

Holly snickered at that, taking the plastic cow Grant was insistently pressing against her leg and patting him on the back in thanks. "What, and nobody wanted to hear from the commander?"

Steve shrugged, eyes tracking the baby as he waddled back to the toy basket. "Only long enough to get my opinion on his tenure, and then they tried to go for the inappropriate angle, so I shut them down. They were less than thrilled with that, so they moved on and I walked."

"Oh, I imagine they were," she returned, fixing him with a curious look. "They really kinda gave you the brush-off?"

"Trade-off for not being totally involved in the action anymore; they've learned," he retorted, raking his fingers back through his hair. (It was starting to grow out again, something he considered letting go on for awhile.) Attempting to tame it, he shot his wife a weary grin. "Some parts of my life just aren't interesting to them. Well, not the parts that involve dirty diapers and spit-up on my shirts."

"But those moments are so magical," she breathed, the sardonic arch of her eyebrows making him chuckle.

"Maybe, but if it doesn't involve risk to life and limb, they leave me alone." He coughed, considering something else as his hands lowered to his lap. "Or if they want to know some really private details about...us."

The tips of his ears were burning pink, which gave Holly an idea of exactly what details they were looking for. Nodding sagely, she sighed.

"Sex sells, dear." Her dark gaze wandered over him, her own fingers coming up to fix the strands of his hair. As she finished and rested her hand on the chest of his uniform, she muttered sarcastically, "Such a disappointment to the public: becoming a father, maintaining your safety so you can keep up with your family. How dare you be so selfish?"

He mockingly tsked at himself. "I know. I should be doing far more interesting things, like throwing myself headlong into danger instead of, I dunno, living my life the way I wish. Shame on me."

"Shame," she echoed, her giggle smothered when she leaned forward and pressed a peck to his lips. His arms curled around her, holding her still even as she leaned back. Her eyes lowered again, her thumb slowly swiping along the edges of the star in the center of his chest. "Still surprised about the suit, though."

"Doll, I got in at three a.m.," he pointed out, hands resting the small of her back and gently kneading the fabric of her sleep shirt. "I wasn't very concerned about what I wore home, so long as I was wearing clothes."

"Heard that before," she mumbled, her other hand coming up to join the first. They lingered along the bands of woven alloy stretching to his shoulders. The bright contrast of the silver upon the black Kevlar and microfiber weave, all stretching over the plates, struck her. It made her a little less annoyed that he'd brought his work gear home...again. "Hmm, at least it looks nice."

"Just what I was going for when I helped designed it," he stated blandly, smirking a bit. The curve of his mouth faded as he looked at her, tilting his head to the left. "Don't miss the red, white, and blue much, do you?"

For a long moment, she did not answer, the clicks of Bonnie's nails as she clattered into the kitchen for her breakfast and Grant's happy little chortles as he played filling the silence. Eventually, she had an answer for him.

"Sometimes I do, but I'm happier with the reasons behind the color change," she confessed, dark eyes meeting his bright ones, sincerity lacing them. Glancing down, her lips morphed into a smirk. "Besides, black is very slimming, y'know."

Steve chuckled, spiking an eyebrow. "Callin' me fat, dear?"

"No," she stated playfully, quirking her lips and giving his shoulder a sharp tap. The plating in the body armor absorbed it, same with the heat as she raised her legs and settled them in his lap. "It just...molds well."

His eyes went half-lidded, though not from exhaustion. Scooping her closer until she properly seated on his lap, he slid a hand into her sleep-tousled hair, kissing her soundly. It was harmless, getting in a little bit of morning necking as the baby and dog were occupied, before they had to prepare for the rest of the day. So he sipped eagerly at her lips, her hunger matching his. As his lips brushed along her jaw down, to her neck, he heard her gasp, but thought nothing of it. Well, he did not think anything of it beyond what was on the surface. As she tilted her head to the side, allowing him a little more access, he felt her back stiffen under his palm, and a question bloomed in the haze of his mind. Still, she spoke before he did.

"Steve, how much does your shield weigh?" Holly asked then, the tenor of her question making something in her throat catch. However, he flattered himself in thinking it was due to the press of his lips trailing along her skin.

"Uh, it clocked in around nine pounds," he said, briefly recalling the number as he ghosted a kiss on the tender spot beneath her ear. "Why?"

Despite her tremulous gasp, her hands pushed against him insistently, forcing him to stop and back away. When he did so, spiking an eyebrow at her movement, he noticed that she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she was looking across the room, her eyes wide in wonderment.

"Because Grant's pulling it all by himself."

"What?" he crowed, immediately turning his head to look, as well. Astonishment rolled through him as he watched Grant, pacifier in his mouth and a stuffed giraffe under one arm, towed his father's shield behind him across the floor. Even as it scraped hard against the wooden slats, the little guy showed no strain as he toddled over to the tiny bean bag chair that was his by the record player. Inhaling sharply, Steve gasped, "Holy shit."

Holly nodded, her dark gaze flicking to him and the corner of her mouth starting to curve. Catching the mischievous glimmer in her irises, he shot her a warning look.

"Don't even say it." Now was hardly the time to tease him about slips in language.

"Wasn't gonna," she replied, her voice a little faint as she promised. Jerking her chin at her baby, still holding onto the shield and bopping his stuffed giraffe toy along it, she nearly whispered, "My mind's pretty preoccupied right now."

"Doll..." Steve's voice faltered as he watched Grant on his little chair, the edges of the shield in his lap and the pure joy lighting his face as he patted the painted vibranium and giggled. Coughing, he forced himself to continue, "Our son has my shield."

She dipped her head in a slow nod, and then she glanced back at him. "Think this is a sign?"

"Yeah. It's a sign that I really need to not leave it on the floor anymore," he groaned, palms cupping his wife's waist. Gently, he lifted her off his lap, helping her shuffle back onto the couch cushion beside him. With his ardor cooled, it was best to take care of the situation at hand and remove the shield from his son's grasp. Getting up and crossing over to the little boy, he knelt down, gauntleted hands closing around the edge of the defensive item. "Okay, bud, give it here."

Tugging carefully, Steve felt another wave of surprise flutter through him as Grant's grip tightened. It wasn't enough for it to be a true contest of wills, but it was enough for the older man to fully understand the development of strength in the little man.

"Hey, now," he chided with a teasing tone, trying to keep the baby from getting upset.

Grant's pacifier fell away, his little face screwing up in dissatisfaction as he held on. "Nuh!"

Sighing, Steve reached out, one palm still gripping the shield's edge and the other plucking at the baby's wrists.

"This isn't a toy. You could get hurt," he admonished the young one, getting his tiny fingers off the vibranium long enough for him to pull it out of his reach. "There."

Little hands tried to grab it again, but Steve swept Grant up into his arms, standing and pointedly crossing the room so that the little guy wouldn't be tempted further. Still, he remained rather wiggly in his embrace, the claw-motions of tiny fingers now scrabbling at the shoulders of his uniform.

"You did good, son," he praised his son quietly, despite the wonderment and worry that laced his heart upon sighting him with the shield. At the back of his mind, an image was conjured up: his boy, a grown man, bearing the shield and taking his place in the future. It made his stomach clench and his heart drop, even as a good measure of pride filled him. "Making your old man proud."

Grant's blue eyes narrowed at him, and he pouted as he sniffled.

"Mama," he whined, petulantly thumping his hands against his daddy's suit. Stifling another sigh, Steve glanced up at the ceiling as he nodded.

"Okay, I'll take you to Mama, since you're not mad at her," he promised, circling back to the couch to Holly. She had watched the little display between father and son, the pride in her eyes dissipating as he handed Grant to her.

"He's not mad at you, Steve," she murmured, patting the baby's back and attempting to soothe ruffled feathers. "He just—"

"I know, doll," he replied, a sardonic grin stretching his lips before he pecked her cheek. He knew all about the bit of temper the little guy had (they both did). After all, he was only a year old; anyone who told him 'no' was either ignored or pouted at, regardless of their relation to him. It would be forgotten in minutes, and Steve himself was not going to dwell on it. Striding over to where he'd left the shield, he swung it up and latched it onto the back harness of his uniform, looking imposing for a second or two after grabbing up the helmet as well. The tired, boyish smile he directed at his wife as he gestured to the suit banished that bearing in an instant. "Gotta go get this off, anyway. Can't show up to the party looking like I'm about to beat some bad guys down, huh?"

She snickered softly as Grant nestled against her, plaintive whimpers not impeding the once-over she gave her husband.

"Well, you could, but it would bring a tense layer to this little man's blow-out," she pointed out.

"Don't want that," he concurred, smiling at his family before heading toward the stairs, Bonnie trotting after him and following him into the bedroom.

Due to Grant's birthday being on the past Monday, the two parents had planned a party for their boy on that Saturday. Presents from his aunts and uncles in the Midwest, plus his grandparents, had already been sent along and opened on the actual day, a bit of cake devoured then. Still, they wanted to do something more for him. All of Grant's Avengers aunts and uncles had been invited, as well as some children from the daycare who had taken a shine to him. Despite the mission the night prior, Steve would be a part of the day, sans uniform. Shucking it off and showering, her swapped places with his wife, choosing to help his son get dressed and ready for the day. Grant had recovered from his earlier displeasure, babbling to his daddy as his button-up tee and shorts were pulled on, and his sandy brown hair had been combed into place. He sat relatively still, gumming at a cool washcloth (his teething had been underway for months, a few pearly whites smattering along his gums) while he tended to. His small shoes and tiny bow tie affixed at the collar just as the master bedroom door opened, his mother coming to them both and crooning over how handsome the boy was.

Shortly before noon, the Rogers family piled into Steve's truck, supplies packed into the seats surround the car seat and in the bed. Once Grant and Bonnie were belted in, they started the vehicle up, the house locked down until they returned. Cutting across the countryside, they soon enough found their way into the village they often visited for groceries and such. The sleepy little town had long since stirred for the day, people dotting the crosswalks and cars moving in and out of the grocery store lot. The diner, set just within the limits and the great favorite of the base workers, was already full, but it was not their destination. Instead, they headed through the town to the small park on the other end, lines of trees bordering it to separate it from the nearby homes. Pulling onto the flat, tarred area dedicated to parking, it was easy to see the green expanse of it from the vehicle. One end held a soccer field, while the other held two baseball diamonds. In the middle of the treed area beside it was a well-sized playground, complete with a slide, swings, and a seesaw.

The covered pavilion in the park awaited them, Holly having booked it for the afternoon. However, it was clear that they were not the first to arrive. Wanda, auburn hair pulled back and a smile lighting her green eyes, had towed the Vision along with her, the sweater and khakis he wore a little at odds with the July heat. Sam and Kay were there, the agent having returned herself from a private assessment with the secondary team only a couple of days ago. Once Bonnie was situated, tied up securely and as comfortable as she could be, given the circumstances, the adults went to work, tacking up streamers and getting the food ready. As they worked, they passed Grant between them, the little guy being showered with affection and praise as they went around.

Slowly but surely, other party attendees found their way to the park. The rest of the team trickled in, having rested up from the previous night's excursions. Alongside them came Holly's coworker Todd, her supervisor Melanie just behind him with her husband. And, they were delighted to note, so did a few of the families whose children attended daycare with Grant. The ones that were his age were accompanied by older siblings, though the oldest child was only six years of age. A small playpen had been constructed for the babies beneath one of the trees, shaded from the summer sun while the slightly older ones milled around, bringing out their own toys and such along with the ones provided by Steve and Holly (they'd purchased very cheap foam balls with the hope of keeping everyone happy with minimal injuries. Thus far, it was working). Lunch, which consisted of hot dogs, chicken, and burgers, with a few side dishes set up—it was the one time Holly conceded to a potluck, and it ended up being a moderate success—was indulged in, everyone moving and eating at their own pace while wishing the little man a happy belated birthday.

"Couldn't have just rolled your birthdays into one, huh?" Lang had joked, coming upon the baby of the hour as he was being held by his father and greeted by his Uncle Bucky near the playground. Reaching out and tickling Grant's belly, he couldn't resist ribbing the commander a bit more. "Could've made it easier on all of us."

"Nope," Steve immediately denied, bringing up his boy and grinning widely. "The little guy deserves to have his own day."

The three men nodded at that, Scott giving the baby one more tickle before wandering off to seek out more food. Bucky, on the other hand, doled out a genuine grin as Grant crowed at him. Small hands made grabbing motions at him, wanting to be held by the other man. There was only a moment of hesitation, of question, in Bucky's irises, but he quickly held out his arms to the boy. Eagerly, the little guy flopped toward him, giving his father no choice but to hand him over.

"Well, rug-rat, you enjoying your big day?" Bucky asked him, smirking as the baby grinned and reached up. He almost managed to grab a hunk of Barnes' hair, but a big palm wrapped around his wrist, drew it down as he snickered. "'Course you are. It's all about you."

"Careful. Your furry little girlfriend is gonna get jealous, Buck," Steve warned him, eyes glittering as he nodded to where Bonnie had been set up for the day. The little corgi was on a long lead, one end clipped around a tree trunk and the other to her harness several feet out. A bowl of water and food had been place by the trunk, tucked between roots so they would not be easily knocked over. A couple of the children from the daycare were petting her, rubbing her belly as she rolled onto her back. All were under strict instruction to not let her off the leash, and the parents at hand were certainly watching their offspring like hawks. (Along with the drone that had been gifted—nominally—to Grant for his baptism, which he and Holly had their phones tapped into.) The small dog was veritably in heaven, and certainly paying no mind to the tall, brunet man she always snuggled on when he visited the house.

Bucky rolled his eyes, mumbling, "Shuddup."

The revv of an engine cut through the air, the men glancing over to the parking area. A gleaming, black Audi was shunted into the last available spot, doors popping open and the last of the invited guests smoothly sliding out of their seats. Dark and light eyebrows rose as they noticed the approaching couple, the light redhead linking her arm with the brunet man beside her, a big gift bag held in her free hand. Though they'd attempted casual wear, it was easy to see how high quality they were. Waving, Pepper Potts began to lead the way over to where the baby of the hour was. Tony Stark, his smirk turning somewhat indulgent as he let his fiancee tow him along. The pleasure in her face doubled as they said their hellos, her fingers gently patting the baby's cheek and combing at his hair before she hugged Steve in greeting. Stark and Rogers settled for shaking hands, and simple nods passed between him and Barnes. Directing her over to the pavilion where Holly was, as well as the table for gifts, Pepper left them after a few moments, another round of happy hellos passed as the three men stood amidst the chatter and flow of the day.

Eventually, Tony dipped his chin at the baby still in the new captain's arms. "Mind lettin' someone else have a turn, Barnes?"

Bright eyes widened, and Bucky shifted Grant, holding him out the billionaire. "Sure thing."

"Hey, short stack. Been awhile," Tony grunted as he took up and hefted the little guy. He hadn't seen him since New Year's; six months and some change had certainly rendered the boy bigger, if nothing else. Bigger, and with a few more teeth than before, he noted wryly. Slight confusion seemed to register on Grant's face, but soon enough he smiled at the older man. Chucking him under the chin, he exclaimed at how he'd brought something special for him, and then he smirked when the little guy started to pet his goatee. That earned a smile from the child's father, and the other 'uncle' at hand leaned his shoulder against the nearest tree trunk. Rapid footsteps beat along the ground, the grass stomped down as a flock of children descended upon them. Spying them, Stark's smiled dimmed slightly, but he maintained his pleasant tone. "And, hey, more kiddos."

"Come pway," said one little girl of the group. Her name was Lanie, and she was roughly three years old, and had taken to Grant since his first weeks at the daycare. Blond curls were stirred by the gentle breeze, her brown eyes wide as she stared up at Tony. She was quite a strong-willed child, as Jan often stated, and she had deep courage, marching up to three Avengers and inviting them to join her and the rest of the kids. Boldly, she reached out and tugged at Stark's pant leg, waiting for the answer. Taken aback by her insistence, the tech genius dipped his chin, the corner of his mouth curving after a moment or two.

"Uh, sure. Sure, let's go play," he said, his expression twisting into bemusement even as the small girl grabbed his free hand and led him over. Flashing a fast look over his shoulder at Steve and Bucky, he shifted Grant a bit as the girl pulled him along. "Whatcha got planned, a little rolling on the grass, or what?"

Whatever her answer was, it was lost as the ring of children she'd drawn him into started shouting and jumping around again. Two boys of the group looked back, calling New Cap and Old Cap to play, too. Bucky nudged him with an elbow, smirking wide at his friend being referred to as old, but Steve merely snorted and shook his head. He had to check in with Holly about when to bring out the cake for their boy. Still, that left Barnes at loose ends.

"Go on," he bade him, nodding to where the kids were circling around Stark, and then Lang when he went to join him. Smirking, he continued, "Could always do with more practice."

The amusement in Bucky's face dimmed, and he looked at the kids with uncertainty. "Steve..."

The blond man met his gaze, sympathetic but unwavering in his stance. "Kids aren't going away, Bucky. More will keep showing up. Might as well embrace it."

The way he said it caught Bucky's attention. Furrowing his brow, he glanced over to where Holly was. She and Kay were under the pavilion, the brunette chatting with Pepper as she dished up some food while the blue-haired agent hefted the gift bag with no effort. With the tables in the way and the roaster pans blocking the view, he could not see anything different on the young woman he was starting to call friend. But, as he knew well, that didn't mean that nothing had changed with her.

Barnes tipped his chin at her, lowering his voice as he asked, "Is she...?"

Steve, understanding at once, shook his head.

"No, but again, maybe for the future." Though they had begun trying again for more children since the month prior (both of them in agreement and too impatient to wait until the actual day of Grant's birthday for their promised "discussion"), Holly was not pregnant. Not yet, at least, he told himself; it was early days. Time would tell on that matter. And in any case, that did not mean there weren't other kids that would enter the Avengers' sphere. Peter was still a year away from legal adulthood, and little Cassie Lang was bound to come around for another visit. There were also Barton's children to consider; if Bucky continued to be Nat's fella, he was definitely going to see them from time to time.

Plus, the plans Hill had been formulating with Fury and Coulson, with Hawley's approval, could very well come to fruition soon. With the Inhuman phenomenon underway, it was understood that something had to be done with the children affected by it, as well as the adults. Talks of an academy, for housing and teaching the youngsters—as well as training them—were had back and forth since last May, and once the budget had been agreed upon, they would most likely start building sometime in the next few months. The upstate area could soon be inundated with many children, many who would be enhanced, lost, scared. Those were things Bucky could relate to, and could relate with them, should they come.

"If nothing else, for their future."

Steve tipped his head to where the other children were playing, a ring of them surrounding Tony as they passed balls and toys to one another. Bucky snickered at that, shaking his head.

"You see potential recruits everywhere, don't you?"

"Every kid has potential, period," Steve retorted softly, the truth in his words ringing in the air. "For one thing or another, not just to fight."

A final look passed between them, with Bucky huffing out a sigh and heading over to the little crowd of children, his friend moving off to connect with the other parents and tend to their needs.

With the new arrivals assimilated into the action, the party-goers continued to move and morph, new factions forming and others breaking off. In spite of being up and going consistently since their arrival, Holly had managed to find a moment to sit down. Grant was in the care of his uncles—Stark and Bucky were being remarkably tolerant of each other's presence, and it filled her with relief—Steve was managing to ingratiate himself with the fathers of the families that had arrived, and the mothers were flowing around watching the children and trading bits of gossip. Soon enough, she found a moment to sit, after she and Kay had retrieved the cake from the back of the blue-haired woman's Jeep. Briefly, she felt a twinge of sadness at her family not being able to be there for the party, but she comforted herself with the fact that they'd celebrated with them when they'd detoured into Minnesota a few week back. Sarah and Aaron were also not present, the pair of them in Virginia for Sarah's mother's birthday, but they sent their love and a tube of plastic animal toys for the little guy.

Still, she was grateful for the company she did have, Kay plopping down beside her with a plate of seconds while Pepper Potts sat at the table across from them. They sat facing each other's benches, trading news of their own. With much deliberation had between the two, Kay and Sam had moved into a house, renting a little on the north end of the village. Though Wilson had spent the night at the base, he had moved the last of his things in that morning, and she was pleased with the step they were taking. On top of that, she'd been promoted in the testing department; when she was not busy with search and rescue duties, Kay would have more opportunities to investigate and choose the projects they developed for the agents and team members. The CEO of Stark Industries, chiming in when bid, had been looking into the results of the clean energy project that had been in development before the Battle of New York, and she was pleased to note that the other members of the board had approved continuing it in the hopes of developing it for the market in the next few years. As well as that, she and Tony had finally picked a date for the wedding, and she was beginning to streamline the process for the ceremony with the wedding planner she'd hired. New Year's Eve would not be a simple date to work with, but the elbow grease and favors she'd collected over the years, it seemed doable as the days went by.

"How the second great American novel coming?" Pepper asked Holly, taking a breath and picking at her plate of food. She was curious about the project; it had been just over a year since the younger woman's first book had been introduced on the market. It took a little snooping, but she'd discovered Holly's pseudonym and had picked up the book. It wasn't really her cup of tea, but she could see the hard work and dedication poured into it. If she were up to the task, there was no reason to think the next wouldn't be just as much a labor of love for Holly.

"It's going alright," she confessed, lifting a shoulder. In truth, it had slowed down a bit over the last month, what with going on an impromptu vacation and Steve's birthday earlier on. Still, she was making progress, the outline of the story prevalent in her mind. It would only be a short while, but she kept her fingers crossed and hoped she'd be able to submit the final chapter before her own birthday rolled around. Leaning back against the table, she murmured, "Main character's currently stuck in a sort of bar room brawl, which will eventually lead to her being lead to an underground resistance headed up by the young fellow she'd been torn apart from years ago."

"Ah," Kay intoned, swallowing the bite of chip she'd taken fast. A hand came up, pushing back the lengthening strands of her blue hair off her forehead. Waggling her eyebrows playfully, she joked, "Going for a bodice-ripping romance this time?"

Holly snorted aloud at that, barely hiding her laughter. "Only if it were set in a different period of history. And if you consider special powers, hand-to-hand combat, and government facilities sexy."

Natasha, ladling up another helping of pasta salad, chuckled then.

"Could be. There are a few things I could tell you about those things and their appeal," she stated, arching a well-shaped eyebrow as she sat down beside Pepper. Flicking her ocean-colored gaze away, she muttered, "Probably would be best not to share those in front of the children."

A couple of the older boys tromped by at that moment, one running after the other as he held away a ball that they were playing with. All the gathered women watched as they went, Holly's eyes darting to her own boy (being passed between Uncle Sammy and Auntie Wanda, his belly being tickled and his giggles floating out) before turning her attention back to Nat.

"I might have to hit you up for those in the future. Whatever's declassified, at least," she said, brushing her palms down the sides of her shorts. The redheaded beauty snickered again, raising her chin proudly and taking a good bite of pasta salad.

"No names, no locations, but there are a few details I can share." She tapped her fork on the plate, her mouth curving into a sly grin. "Would make it a bit more accurate than your first book."

A flush of pink invaded the brunette's cheeks, but to her credit, she did not shy away from the other woman's assessment.

"Yeah, well, I didn't think that…" she trailed off, flapping a hand in the air as a wry smile came to her lips. She half-expected the minor critique from the ex-assassin, had thought she would have something to say months ago. Kay had certainly done so; the accuracy of it, according to actual operatives, was questioned, but not terribly so. Evidently, Nat only just found the time to deliver it."I started writing it before I could be called out on that. Oops."

The Black Widow lifted a shoulder, maintaining her grin.

"Still entertaining" she pronounced, nods from Pepper and Szymik confirming her words. Leaning forward slightly, she focused on the brunette. "Did Chelsea actually kill Luke, by the way?"

The reference to the aftermath of the climax of her first story made her chuckle. She'd purposefully left the demise of the empowered girl's handler-turned-enemy ambiguous, and that was how she was going to leave it to them that day, as well.

"Sorry, Natasha, but you'll find out when everyone else does once it goes to print," Holly proclaimed, a finger coming up and pointing at Romanoff as she fixed with a suddenly serious look. "And if you hack my computer, I will totally change the storyline solely to piss you off."

Romanoff rolled her eyes, huffing out a great breath. "Damn. Fine, you win."

More chatter ran among them, but before much longer Steve interrupted their conversation, smiling in apology as he drew his wife away. As per their plan for the day, it was time to start doling out the cake, with presents attended to afterward. But first, they had to get Grant all set for it. With the Vision (drawn away from a discussion with Melanie about certain archive projects he could assist with in the future) taking command of the drone and ensuring the camera was indeed filming, a blanket was spread on the ground and anchored by a couple of large rocks found in the park. As their friends and the children started to gather, Grant was brought to his mother, his father locating the tiny smash cake that was to be all for him for the day. It was blue, with green polka dots ringing it and a small number 1 candle perched in the center. It was quickly lit as Holly sat the baby in her lap, a ringing chorus of the birthday song passing between the others. At its conclusion, cheers went up, and she braced the boy as she shuffled closer to the cake.

"Happy birthday, Grant. Blow," she sing-songed to her boy, smiling briefly up at Steve before bending closer to the cake (he had brought his good camera along, snapping pictures rapidly). Grant's eyes widened as the flame was extinguished, his mother's puff drawing out the spirals of smoke from the candle. The small, wax candle was removed, the tiny cake pulled closer to the little guy, and Holly adjusted his big bib once more before planting a peck in his hair. Staring at it for another moment or two, the one-year-old did just as the name of the confection implied, and smashed his hands atop it. The blue icing stuck to his fingers, clumps of white cake clenched in his fists as he first brought one and then the other up to his mouth. Cheers and claps ringed around them, and he smiled through the smears on his face, doing what Holly called his "cheese face" as cameras and phones lifted in his direction. Steadying him, the young mother nodded to her husband, the unspoken signal for him to start dishing up the rest of the cake for their guests. The plain sheet cakes from the grocery store bakery were consumed, and she furtively watched as the others indulged. Kay teased Sam with a bite of her, with him rolling his eyes before smirking and snapping his teeth at her fork. Natasha was chuckling at the bit of frosting that had gotten on Bucky's nose, carefully cleaning it off before he dug into the confection with gusto. Lang and Wanda were sizing up each other's corner pieces, while the Vision sat down beside his partner and looped his arm around her. Pepper whispered something into Tony's ear as they got their slices, the last of the bunch to do so after the other families and children had gotten a crack at it.

Grant jerked in her arms, pushing away the demolished smash cake with alacrity, and she snickered, reaching behind her to the package of wet wipes she'd sneaked over before the singing had started. Steve made his way back to her, two pieces of cake on paper plates in his hands and fondness in his expression.

"One year old," he said, putting down the plates and sitting beside her swiftly.

"It's been a good year," Holly mused, attempting to wipe up the mess on her son's face. Failing that, she tossed the wet wipe aside, holding him in her lap and chuckling to herself.

"One of the best," Steve concurred, sitting on the blanket beside them. It was true, to him, at least: he could not remember a time when he'd been more at peace, more loved and happy with life than that one. Opening his arms, he scooped Grant up from the blanket, having him stand up in his lap for a minute while he brushed down the back of his clothes.

"Many more to come, too," she declared, her brown eyes flicking over to him before narrowing in question. "Don't you think?"

"I hope so," he nearly whispered, wishing that deeply in his heart. Holding up his son, Steve looked him over. Bits of cake and frosting had found their way up to Grant's sandy brown hair, his bright blue eyes shining with mirth. He looked so much like him, and still, carried so much of Holly in him, too. His boy, a year old and his whole life ahead of him, stared back. He couldn't help the tremulous grin on his lips as he murmured, "Love you, buddy."

"Dada," the little boy crowed, patting his father's cheeks and smiling. Leftover icing now decorated the blond man's face, but he could not have care less at that moment. Grinning widely, Steve bumped the end of Grant's nose with his own as he bounced him up and down a few times. His arm tucked around the boy, he held out his free hand to his wife, relishing the brush of her skin as she took it and laced their fingers together. As she leaned her chin onto his shoulder, he closed his eyes, sure he would carry that moment in his heart for the rest of his life. It would be a comfort in the dark times, should they come, he knew.

At that moment, though, he treasured that time they had, unwilling to mar it. The Rogers family basked in the warmth of the day, of their friends, and held to one another as the bright July afternoon rolled on.

A/N: And that, my friends, is the end of In Due Course. I hope this was a fun, easy journey for you all to go on. It certainly was for me; I like being able to catch my breath a bit before something major rolls along.

As some of you have predicted, we got to see Grant's first birthday party, after a bit of action the night before for Steve. I think that not only is this a momentous occasion for the little guy, but for the father as well, considering that he is indeed living a life here that he would not otherwise be in canon. It's sticky-sweet and fluffy, but hey, that's kinda how this story has rolled.

I will take this moment to thank all of those, past and present, who have favorited, followed, reviewed, and enjoyed this story. You have all helped me, in one way or another; some of you have given me ideas, some of you have helped push me along, and even those who were silently reading gave me motivation to finish this. Truly, I thank you all for this.

That said, I am reminding you all: there is a fifth installment to this series, and I have just posted the first chapter to that, as well. It is entitled Darkest Before Dawn, and can be found under the My Stories tab on my page (if you don't already get the alerts, haha). The first chapter is sort of prologue-esque, but I hope you will check it out, considering it will lead onto the Infinity War and how Steve and Holly respond to it, along with the others.

Also, I have posted another chapter for Down the Hall, if you want to check that out, too.

Finally, if an alert for this didn't show up in your inbox, you can always go to my Twitter (PhanProTweets) to keep on top of that.

I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all in the next story!