I Thought You Were Different: Part 4

Okay

The sound of the fire alarm overhead at the compound was shrill and painful, piercing through what had been a lovely afternoon on your own without interruption. Of course, no time in peace was guaranteed, and all it took today was one forgotten lasagna in the oven to ruin it. "Dammit," you groaned, waving the smoke away with your oven mitt as you opened the door, "I'm shocked that I can keep anyone alive around here."

"Don't sell yourself short, (Y/N)," Clint smiled from his seat at the table behind you, "you made that turkey a few years ago and no one died."

"Because Grant saved it before we could."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Why are you making so much food anyway?" He stood up and made his way over to you, picking up various dishes and containers to see what you had put in them with a skeptical eye. "Mass murder?"

"Shut up," you hissed, pushing him back with your elbow, "I'm making enough for Steve, Dad, and the kids to get by while we're gone. So...maybe mass murder...now that you mention it..." You furrowed your brow and began to wonder if there was really any point to getting so prepared, and that they could probably survive on take-out just as well, if not better. Most of the rest of the team was set to leave within the next few hours and would be gone at least a week on a mission that would find you on the other side of the planet from home. Steve had done nothing but try to convince you to pass and stay home with him to work on what was happening with your family, shocking you with his determination now when he had just returned from running away in the first place. You needed this mission, you explained, and it would help clear your head to work on things when you got back; you craved the work and to be out of this environment for just a little while. You fully believed that this mission would save what little sanity you had left.

"Ugh," Clint coughed, quickly closing the lid on one of your dishes and spitting out what he had tried to sample into a nearby garbage. "No, you can't feed anyone that, (Y/N). I don't think even Cap could survive that one. Oh! Wait, we should bring this with us! Slingshot this into the Hydra base and we could cut this trip down to a day, max!"

~~~

"Okay, who wants to go first?"

The three kids sat together on one of the lounge couches with Steve on another, all of them looking at each other with anticipation of who would be the first to take the leap and ask him the uncomfortable questions that he wasn't ready to answer. Tony was invited to this as well, but he wasn't exactly feeling up to doing it just yet, so his turn was still to come and Steve already felt that he would have to prepare him before the first question was offered. The feeling of his own children carrying such resentment and anger towards him was a new thing, and he could barely stand it; he could barely look back at their judging eyes, but he forced himself to if for nothing more than to show his attention.

"Why did you come back?" Grant began plainly, his arms folded tight over his chest. He was easily the most energized and ready to take his dad on with everything that he had, and Steve expected no less. He'd likely be proud of his son's tenacity if it hadn't been aimed at him directly.

"Grant!"

"What? It's a valid question. Did you want to start him off soft, B? How about, were you really, really sad?" the boy mocked with a pout. "Is that why you abandoned Mom at the worst time of her life when she's the one who carried Maggie for eight months?"

"You need to calm down," Anthony warned, turning to his brother sharply, "and remember who you're talking to."

"I'm talking to Steve."

"You're talking to Dad," Brooklyn gasped, her eyes darting from him and back to Grant, filled with fear at the retaliation that Steve could bring. "Grant, come on."