Steve: What is he gonna do?

Everything Else

Steve is suddenly awakened by a loud noise out in the hall. He barely has enough presence of mind to put on a shirt before three people crash through his new door.

It's Clint, thank fuck, but for some reason he has two kids, a cat, and a dog with him. It takes the scruffy landlord two full minutes to notice he's in the wrong apartment. Steve doesn't mind. The kids are tickling the poor man.

"Oh shit," Clint says.

The girl gasps. "You said a naughty word! I'm telling Papa!"

"Well, Wanda, it's a bad situation. Tell your dad whatever you want, he needs my help. He won't 'fire' me." Steve can feel the air quotes even if Clint still can't move his arms. They're being pinned down by the animals and children on Steve's floor.

"Wow. There's, like, nothing in here." Says the little boy. He zips over to stare up at Steve and scrutinizes him. "Who're you?"

"Steve Rogers. I assume you were looking for Sam?" He answers, unfaltering.

The boy grins at him. "I'm Pietro. Watch what I can do." As if she heard him from across the room, Wanda starts to distract Clint. It looks pretty easy for her, if Steve is being perfectly honest. Clint doesn't notice at all when Pietro steals his wallet and keys, rifling through cards and cash, throwing things on the floor as he pulls them out of the little leather container. Steve smirks.

"We were actually looking for Nat," Clint says, turning to Steve and yet still failing to notice the kid next to him throwing his belongings on the ground like its a daily occurrence. "Wanda and Lucky found this cat, and Natasha is supposed to teach the kids Romanian today. It's time for their lesson."

"Sounds like fun," Steve offers nonchalantly.

Pietro scoffs. "We're already learning Yiddish from Temple and Polish from Papa. We're twelve years old, we don't need to know four languages." He mutters something else, and somehow Clint's hearing aids pick it up even though Steve doesn't.

"I heard that, you little poo," Clint grumbles. Steve fights hard not to laugh at the insult. "You'll need a babysitter until your dad says you don't. Manhattan can be scary, kids."

Pietro rolls his eyes. "Whatever, old man. As long as I'm faster than you, I consider myself free."

"I like learning Romanian," Wanda mutters.

"Well I hope you want to learn Russian, too, because Erik wants me to start on that next month," says Natasha, appearing out of nowhere as usual. She slips by Clint, who is still by the door, and high fives Pietro.

"Aw dang," Clint says, defeated. "You gotta stop pickpocketing me, you little snot. I'm within my rights to call the police on you."

"But you won't." Pietro counters bravely. The fact that he hides behind Steve sort of detracts from the bravado, but Clint doesn't seem to notice. "You're too afraid of Papa."

"You little punk--" Clint glares.

"Auntie Nat," Wanda says, holding out the cat, "we brought you a present."

"That's very nice of you, malyutka, did you find her nearby?" Natasha says. Steve is struck by how sweet she is with the girl.

"We checked shelters all this morning," Wanda assures. "She doesn't have a missing poster out. We bought her a collar, but we wanted to check with you before we got the tag. Naming animals is the best part of adopting them."

"They live on the third floor with their dad," Clint explains. Pietro has gravitated toward Natasha, so Clint apparently deemed it a good opportunity to explain everything to Steve. "The people down there are kinda weird, but they like to say we're worse. Whatever. Their mom was Romanian. She died in childbirth. Erik still beats himself up about it. I think that's why he won't go out with his psychologist friend down the hall from them. Charles Xavier. Whatever. They're totally in love. I hear the others down there have a poll going on their love life. Xavier totally knows about it, he's just waiting for Erik."