Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

>p>hi everyone! this is my first fanfic ever!!! I'm very excited to be writing this!
First, I'd like to say that English is my second language, so please be kind about any mistakes.
I'll try to update as often as possible, but I can't promise anything!
I'm not sure yet, but maybe I'll also post this on Wattpad.

this fic will take place after infinty wars. so i decided that no one will die and that steve didnt leave for peggy. i havent seen the nw captain america or the thunderbolts so i will not be taking those into my story, or atleast not yet.

I have decided that some characters ages will differ from the original movies.

Chapter Text

When the sun hit my face this morning, I knew it was time to get out of bed. I quickly took a shower, letting the warm water wash all over me, staying under the water longer than necessary.
As main breadwinner of the house and caretaker, I almost never have time for myself. Especially trying to also get my law degree at the community college downtown.
When I got out of the shower, I dried my hair and put it in a braid.
After throwing on a pair of sweats, I quickly went downstairs. My mom and I live in quite a big house, but she won’t tell me how she got the money for it.
She doesn’t tell me anything about her job really. The only thing I really know about it is that it's probably very illegal. So, I always go up to my room whenever there are “work friends” over.
Lately, they have been coming over less often now. Probably because she is sick and isn’t able to do a lot anymore.
When I got downstairs, I went into the kitchen to make some breakfast for me and my mom. I made some eggs and bacon with some fruits and coffee on the side. A bigger portion for myself.
I’ve always had a big appetite and fast metabolism. But my mom says it’s okay, and I probably got it from my dad. I don’t know who my dad is; it’s another secret my mom keeps from me. She knows who it is—or at least she says she does—but that I was born out of a drunken one-night stand, and after that, never heard from him again.
Whilst trying to balance two plates and two coffee mugs in my hand, I walked to my mom’s room.
When her sickness got worse, she moved to one of the many rooms downstairs, as walking up and down the stairs became really hard. She won’t tell me what it is, and she won’t see a doctor, as she doesn’t trust them.
When I got to her door, I tried knocking on it with my foot since my hands were occupied.

“Mom, are you awake? Can I come in?” I ask.

“Yes, honey, you can come in.”

Even though she keeps a lot of things from me, we still are pretty close.
I mean, as close as possible. She used to travel a lot for her work. And she used to leave me alone most of the time—sometimes for months.

I opened the door. “Good morning, Mom, how did you sleep?” I ask while putting her food and coffee on her bedside table and then flopping down on the chair next to her bed.

“You know I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” she says, sipping on her coffee.

“Yes, I know, Mom,” I reply with my mouth stuffed with fruit.

“Do not talk with your mouth full, Jules,” says my mom sternly. “I did not raise you like that.”

I quickly apologize, as I don’t want her to get all worked up.

After we finished breakfast, I stood up. “Okay, Mom, I’m just going to check your vitals, just to make sure you’re not getting worse,” I say whilst rummaging through one of her medicine cabinets. I run some tests just to make sure she is all right.

“Okay, you are good to go,” I say. “But you do need to take your pills, okay? They help you.”

“I know, honey.”

“Okay then, if everything is settled, then I will be going, or I will be late for work,” I say, walking out the door. “Ooh, also Mom, the cleaners are coming today. Everything is paid for already, but please be kind. And don’t scare Rosa like that again. If you need anything, just call me!” I yell.

Sometimes my mom goes into these episodes where she doesn’t remember anyone or anything. The last time that happened, she attacked one of the cleaners. Lately, these episodes have been getting worse, unfortunately.

I run upstairs to grab my work uniform and a change of clothes and my book bag, in the hope I’ll be able to go to school today. For me, picking up extra shifts at my two jobs is more important than school.
My mom doesn’t want to move, but with her not working anymore, we can’t afford the house for much longer.

I put on a bit of makeup to make sure I don’t look like a zombie who just rolled out of bed.
I hop onto my bike since I don’t have my license yet (I’m too busy). Within a few minutes, I arrive at my job. I work at a little coffee shop in the middle of town.
When I arrive, I quickly park my bike and walk in. I don’t really like working here, but it pays my bills.

“Good morning, Jules,” says my boss.

“Good morning, Maria,” I say back.

She isn’t my friend, but she always has been nice to me. I’ve never really had friends. Parents always told their kids to stay away from me because they were scared of my mom. Scared that their kids would hang out with the kid whose mom is rumored to do illegal things.

I put on my apron and clock in.

Halfway through my shift, I have a quick 10-minute break.

“I’m taking my break,” I yell to no one specifically, but just so my colleagues know. I walk outside to get a bit of fresh air and check my phone. 4 missed calls from Rosa.

I immediately call her back. “Rosa, what’s wrong?” I ask.

“Jules, it’s your mom,” she says in a shaky voice. “I was cleaning her room like you asked and suddenly she had one of her attacks. I tried to stop her, but then she suddenly fainted. I called an ambulance because I didn’t know what to do. We’re almost at the hospital now. Please come.”

I quickly run inside again. “Maria, I need to go, it’s my mom, I’m sorry,” I say whilst grabbing my stuff and taking off my apron.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, worry lacing through her voice.

“I don’t know. She suddenly fainted and she’s on the way to the hospital now,” I say, almost out of the door already.

I jump onto my bike to the hospital.
When I arrive, I throw my bike onto the ground and rush in. I walk up to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m looking for Evelyn Smith,” I say to a nurse. “She just got rushed into the hospital.”

“Let me check the system,” she says whilst typing something on the computer in front of her.

“Yes, I’ve found her. She is in surgery now. You can wait for her there. I think someone came with her on the ambulance ride. You can wait with them.”

“Okay, thank you,” I reply as I walk into the waiting room. I look around for a bit. When I spot Rosa, I quickly walk to her.
When she sees me, she walks towards me.

“I’m so sorry, Jules, I didn’t know that was going to happen and I know I wasn’t supposed to call an ambulance or a doctor or whatever at any point but she suddenly dropped down and I didn’t know what to do so I just called one and I’m so sor—”

“It’s okay,” I say, stopping her from rambling. “You did the right thing. You can go home now. Thank you for calling me.”

“Are you sure? I can stay with you as long as you want.”

“It’s really okay,” I reply whilst taking a seat in the waiting room.

“Okay, well if you need anything just call me, okay?”

“Yes, Rosa, I will,” I say. I grab one of my school books out of my bag—if I’m sitting here for some time, might as well use it to study.

A few hours later, a nurse walks in. She scans the room and when she sees me, she walks up to me.

“Excuse me, are you here for Evelyn Smith?” she asks.

“Yes, I am. Is everything okay?” I reply.

“Your mom just got out of surgery and the doctor would like to talk to you.”

Chapter Text

"Ooh yes, that is great," I say. "Let me just grab my stuff."

I quickly throw my things into my bag.
"Okay, I'm ready. Can I go see her?"

"Not yet. The doctor wants to talk to you," she says whilst walking out of the waiting room. After a minute of walking, we arrive at a door, which seems to lead to an office.
"Doctor Hawkens is waiting for you here."

"Okay, thank you so much," I reply. She smiles at me and then walks away. I take a deep breath and then walk in.

"Hi, I'm looking for Doctor Hawkens. Are you him?" I ask the man sitting at the desk. It is indeed an office.
"Yes, I am. And you must be Evelyn Smith's daughter," he replies.
"Yeah, I am. My name is Jules."
"Please take a seat," he says.
"Okay," I say, whilst dropping my bag next to the chair he is pointing at.

"Is my mom okay? When can I go see her?" I ask, worry lacing through my voice.

He takes a deep breath and starts speaking.
"Jules, there is no easy way to say this. Your mom's sickness spread to her lungs and heart. She died on the operating table."

My heart sank to my shoes. What am I supposed to do without my mother? She might not have been the best mom, but she was my mom. My mouth falls open and I put my hand over my mouth, holding down a sob.

"I'm so sorry, Jules. I know this must be hard for you," Dr. Hawkens says.

"Before she died, your mom asked me to tell you something."

"What did she say?" I ask, needing to know what happened.

"She said that you are only 19, which means you are not allowed to live alone yet. So she called your dad and told him to pick you up. He will be here tomorrow."

"My dad?" I almost shout. Standing up, I bang my hands on the table, causing it to get a crack.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I say, sitting back down.
"That's okay," he replies, with a strange look on his face.

"I never met that man in my whole life. Do you know who he is?" I ask in a softer tone. So she did know who he was, she just didn’t want to say it, I think to myself. What if he is one of those horrible men she works with?

"No, I don’t. I’m sorry," Dr. Hawkens replies. "You can say goodbye to her if you want. I’ll lead you to her. Then I recommend you grab your stuff and go home."

"Yes, I’d like to see her, please," I say, my voice trembling now. Because that is the last time.

"Okay, let’s go then." I quickly grab my stuff and follow him.

- A few hours before this encounter -
- Tony Stark’s perspective -

I really had better things to do than this. But when Pepper called, saying that she just got a call from SHIELD and that she immediately needed to talk to me, I knew it was important. She filled me in on what was happening.

"What do you mean Capicle has a kid?" I shout into the microphone, almost knocking over my cup of coffee.
"Stark, there's no need to shout," says Fury with annoyance lacing through his voice.

"Yes, I'm sorry. That won’t happen again."

"Just tell him soon — maybe the team too."

"Yes, I will. Bye," I say, hanging up.

"FRIDAY, please call a team meeting."

"Yes sir. Would you like me to tell them to go to the conference room?"

"Yes please," I say, whilst wiping my face and walking there from my workshop.

Almost everyone is there when I arrive.

"What is this about, Tony?" says Nat.
"Yes, couldn’t this have waited till tomorrow?" Bucky chimes in.
"Aww, does the old man need his beauty sleep?" replies Sam.

Peter swings in last.
"Sorry I’m late, Mr. Stark. I was out patrolling."
"That’s okay, kid. Just take a seat."

"Okay, so there is no easy way to say this. But Cap, do you recognize this woman?" I ask, whilst pulling up a picture of Evelyn Smith.
"Uhh, no, not really. Why?" he says.
"What’s her name?"
"Evelyn Smith."

"Isn’t she, like, a big drug lord, with ties to Hydra?" Nat asks.

"Yes, ten points to Agent Romanoff," I say jokingly.

"But Steve — to Steve, she is also something else."

"What is she to me then?"

"She is your baby mama," I say.

"Holy shit," he mutters under his breath.
"LANGUAGE!" everyone yells at him.

"OMG," he says. "I do know her."
"Okay, please do share with the rest of the class. We’d really like to know if she’s coming to live with us." I say.
"I just got out of the ice, and I went to a bar trying to get drunk. I stumbled onto her and I spent the night with her. Oh my god… I have a kid," he says, sliding deeper and deeper into his chair.

Bucky and Sam start howling while the rest of the team starts laughing.

After a while, Bruce says, "But wait, does that mean that she is half super soldier?"

"I don’t know. The files on her, which I pulled, show no hospital records. So we can’t know. But anyway. A few SHIELD agents are picking her up tomorrow. She will be staying here till she is 21."

"So she’s my age?" Peter asks shyly.
"Yes, she is. She’s a few months younger than you."

"Finally, someone my age," he says excitedly.

"Hey, that’s not fair. We are your age," Kate says, pointing at herself and Yelena, whilst the other throws a pen at his head.

He catches it, of course, but I can’t help lecturing them.
"Hey, no hurting the kid."
He is like a second son to me… but I don’t say that out loud.

Chapter Text

I walk into the room, no idea what to expect. But seeing my mom lying there, all stiff, was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

“Take your time,” says Doctor Hawkins, who stands beside me. “There are people coming to get her ready for the funeral. I’ll give a little sign when they’re here,” he says while walking out the door.

“Okay, thank you,” I reply, even though he isn’t in the room anymore.

I drop my bag to the floor and slowly walk to the table where she lies. I grab a chair and take a seat next to her.

“Hey, Mom,” I whisper, grabbing her stiff and cold hand.
“Why didn’t you let me help you? Why didn’t you say anything? You must have known how bad the disease had spread... you had to feel it,” I whisper to her.

I feel a tear streaming down my face.
“Why did you have to leave me?”
The tears start flowing now. I hear myself slowly raising my voice.
“And why didn’t you tell me about my dad? I don’t even know him. And now I have to live with him. What if he’s a creep? Or what if he’s mean and cruel to me?”

I sit there for a few more minutes, softly talking to her. Not that she can hear me, but it feels like the right thing to do.

I hear a knock on the door.
“Jules, are you ready? The people from the cemetery are here,” I hear Doctor Hawkins say.
“Yes, I’m ready,” I reply back, squeezing her hand for the last time.

I know there won’t be a funeral. And the people picking her up aren’t from the cemetery. They work with her. I once asked my mom why there wasn’t a funeral for one of her coworkers — because that’s what they were to her, right? Coworkers? She told me I shouldn’t ask. So I didn’t.

I place the chair back where I got it from and grab my bag. I take one last look at her, and something inside me feels like it’s missing — like there’s a literal hole in me.

Then I walk out of the room. When I open the door, I’m greeted by the sight of a few men in black suits and Doctor Hawkins, who has pity in his eyes. One of the men I recognize. That’s Rumlow. I’ve seen him around the house a few times. He nods at me and mumbles something that sounds like condolences. I nod back, and they walk into the room.

I walk up to Doctor Hawkins and thank him for helping me.
“Of course,” he replies. “I recommend you go home now. Tomorrow, you’ll be picked up.”
“Okay, thank you,” I reply.

Then I walk out of the hospital, to where I threw my bike on the ground. I step on the pedals and make my way back home. When I finally get home, it’s already very late, so I decide to take a shower and go to bed. Normally, my mom would say that I should eat enough, but I lost my appetite the moment I got Rosa’s call.

I throw my bag somewhere on the ground in the hall and drag myself upstairs to take that shower. I don’t know how long I was in there, but I let the water and the hospital smell just wash over me. When I get out and dry my body, I don’t even attempt to dry my hair — I just want to sleep. I slump down on my bed and cry myself to sleep.

[The next morning]

When I wake up the next morning, for a few seconds, everything seems so normal. But then realization sets in: my mom isn’t here anymore, and today is my last day in this house.

I drag myself out of bed and throw on some jeans and an oversized t-shirt. My hair is an absolute mess, so I brush it through and put it up in a braid. I’ll put on some makeup later, but right now I just want breakfast.

I walk down the stairs, but as I do, the house feels so quiet it’s almost scary. Normally, I’d hear a show my mom was watching, or at least one of the machines she was hooked up to buzzing. And on the days I let myself sleep in, I’d hear Rosa shuffling around the house.

But right now, it’s dead silent.

I make myself some coffee and grab some leftovers from yesterday’s dinner — Rosa probably made it. She always makes something I can easily warm up, so when I get home late I can still eat a healthy meal. I open the lid of the Tupperware and see something that looks like tacos. I also grab some fruit to go with it.

Then I grab my mom’s folder with all the important information — our water bills, where we get groceries delivered from, etc. I start calling people to let them know what happened. I also call my small college down the street to let them know I won’t be coming anymore. The guidance counselor tells me she understands, and if I want to transfer, I can call her and she’ll help me.

Lastly, I call Rosa. After two rings, she picks up.

“Hey Jules, are you okay?” she asks immediately. “And how’s your mom? I did the right thing, right?”

“Yes, you did, Rosa. She... unfortunately died.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry to hear that, Jules. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, there isn’t, but thank you for offering. I was just calling to let you know that I... sorry, I don’t need your services anymore. My dad is coming to pick me up, and I’ll have to move in with him.”

“That sucks,” she replies. “And I totally understand. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call, okay?”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thank you for everything,” I say. Then I hang up.

I sigh and take the last sip of my coffee. I have no idea when my dad is coming to pick me up, but it’s 10 a.m. right now, so I better pack up my stuff.

I walk back upstairs and grab a few bags and a suitcase. I just start packing everything. I don’t have much. I always used any money I had for school, groceries, my mom’s hospital bills, to keep the house… etc.

After 30 minutes of packing, I hear the doorbell.

Shit. Is that my dad already?

I hurry downstairs and open the front door.
“Rumlow? What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to let you know the house belongs to us now,” he says. He doesn’t specify what he means by “us,” but I can guess it means the people she worked with.

“Yeah, okay, that’s fine,” I reply. “My mom’s stuff is still here, so you’ll have to clean that up yourself.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” he replies. “I’ll be here tonight,” he says, then walks away.

I don’t know why, but that man has always creeped me out.

I don’t really care that they’re taking the house — it’ll take the bills off my name, and there are a lot of bad memories here. Good ones, too, but a lot of bad ones.

I resume packing, and around 12 p.m., I hear a knock on the door again. I run downstairs and check myself in the little mirror in the hall. Then I open the door.

I see a large man standing in front of me.

“Hi, I’m Hogan, but you can call me Happy. I’m here to pick you up.”

“Are you my dad?” I ask, unable to hold it back — I just have to know.

He looks at me with a glimmer of shock in his eyes.

“Oh, absolutely not. I don’t want kids. But I work for your dad, so I’m here to pick you up.”

“Oh... okay,” I reply, with a hint of disappointment in my voice. I thought he would come pick me up, but I guess not.

The man sees the mix of disappointment and hesitation on my face and immediately says, “He’s a very busy man. He wanted to come, but he couldn’t. You’ll understand. Now go grab your bags — he’s very excited to meet you. Do you need help?”

“No thank you, I got it,” I say, grabbing my two bags and suitcase.

He looks at me, surprised.
“Isn’t that kind of heavy?” he asks.

“No, it isn’t,” I say, not understanding why he would think that.

“Okay then. Well, follow me,” he says, walking ahead.
“Where are we going, sir?” I ask while following him.
“To the helicopter.”

“Helicopter?!” I exclaim. “Is my dad rich or something?”

“You could say that,” he replies. “Now get in. It’s a few hours to New York.”

New York. We’re going to New York.
“You didn’t know?” he asks, confused.
“No, I don’t. I don’t even know who he is. You could be kidnapping me for all I know,” I say while getting into the helicopter.

He lets out a little chuckle and takes a seat too.
“You’ll see soon enough.”

A few hours later

“Okay, we’re almost there,” Happy says after almost two hours of silence.

“He lives in the Avengers Tower?” I ask, almost sarcastically. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am

Chapter Text

As I get out of the helicopter, I feel my nerves rising. Why am I here? Is that Happy guy sure? Or am I really being kidnapped right now?

“Follow me,” he says. “Your stuff will be brought to your room shortly. But first, let’s make sure you meet your dad.” After he says that, he expects me to walk after him—which I do.

I grab my small bag, which I had with me the whole helicopter ride here. I climb out of the helicopter and follow him. He’s almost at the beginning of the stairs. I run after him and, in a few seconds, I’m next to him.

“Have you always been that fast?” he asks. “Because that was unusually fast.”

“Euhh, no, that’s how fast I’ve always been.” He looks at me weirdly and then starts walking down the stairs.

I have no idea where we’re going, so I just follow him. After a few minutes of walking through something which seems like a maze, we arrive before two big doors.

“Okay, not to make this moment any bigger than it already seems, but your dad is behind those doors,” Happy says. “You can meet him now and the rest of the team later.”

“Euh, okay?” I say, still not sure if I’m being kidnapped or not.

“Anyway, I’ve got to go. You know, I’ve got important stuff to do. I’ll probably see you around sometime,” he says. He tells me good luck and walks away. He immediately grabs his phone and starts calling someone. I hear what he says, but it doesn’t seem important.

I turn to the doors. It seems like nothing. It’s just a door. What can go wrong? I grab a bit tighter onto my bag and take a deep breath. I take a step forward and put my hand on the doorknob. I slowly open the door and take a peek inside.

And then I saw him sitting. Captain America. Or Steve Rogers, which is his real name.

“Euh, hi. I’m sorry to bother, but this guy named Happy just dropped me off here and said that my dad would be inside… but you’re Captain America, which makes me wonder if he was lying to me because why would you be my dad.”
I pause.
“I’m sorry, was I rambling? I apologize. My mom always says—”
I pause again.
“—said that I rambled way too much.”

Then I notice that he isn’t talking. Like, at all.

“I’m sorry… is everything okay?” I ask, worried now because he stands up. He looks me deep in the eyes and says,
“You look a lot like her, you know.”

He is silent for a second before he clarifies,
“Your mom. You look so much like your mother.”

And then it’s me who’s silent, because this means… he’s for real my dad, right?

He keeps on talking.
“I know how much of a shock this must be, so take a seat. Because I think we both have a lot of questions.”

I slowly walk over to the seat he’s pointing at. I put my bag on the ground next to me and take a seat.

“Sooo… you’re really my dad, huh?” I ask.

He lets out a little chuckle and takes a seat too.
“Yeah, I guess I am. But if you don’t believe it, Tony made sure with a DNA test.”

“Tony? DNA test?” I ask, sounding a little worried now.

He looks at me.
“Tony as in Tony Stark. And DNA test as in—he had one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents find something that could contain your DNA at your house and test it against mine. Which showed you are my daughter.”
He pulls a paper out of a beige binder. The binder has a weird type of eagle on it. But then my attention shifts to the paper he glides over the table toward me.
“It shows it all here,” he says.

I grab the paper and take a look. I don’t really understand what any of it means, but the parts I do get show that he really is my dad.

I stare in shock at him.
“Holy shit,” I mumble. “Captain America is my dad.”

He chuckles again.

“I think you might have a lot of questions, so you can ask me anything,” he says.

“How did you meet my mom?” I ask. “Because she would never tell me.”

He turns a little red.
“It’s really not an interesting story, you know. But I’ll tell it. I came out of the ice around twenty years ago. I didn’t know anyone because they had all died. And the world had changed a lot. It was a lot to take in, so I walked into the first bar I saw. It was a quiet, slow night. There weren’t a lot of people there.

“I took a seat at the bar and ordered something to drink, hoping I could drown out everything that was happening. Just forget everything for a minute. After a while, this beautiful woman came and sat next to me. We got to talking, and then I did something I’m not proud of. We went to her apartment and had a one-night stand.

“That morning I woke up very early and I sneaked out. Because I was supposed to be the face of a good America. You know, responsible and everything.”

He stops talking for a minute and clears his throat.

“I deeply regretted that night. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

Oh, I thought. So he doesn’t even want me.
He probably sensed something was wrong by the look on my face.

“No, no, no. Not like that. I don’t really know you, but in the reports I got, you seem like a smart and good young woman. And for helping bring someone like you into the world, I’m not ashamed.
“It’s just that I’m not proud of how I treated your mom. That just feels wrong to me,” he says immediately.

I sigh in relief.
“Ooh, okay.”
We talk a little more, awkwardly getting to know each other.

After a while, he checks his watch.
“Shall I show you to your room?” he asks. “It’s quite late, and I can really understand if you want to settle in.”
I nod.
“Yes, that would be very nice,” I say.
“Okay, follow me.”

But unlike that Happy guy, he waits until I’ve grabbed my bag and say, “I’m ready to go,” before he starts walking. He walks next to me while leading the way.

“You can meet the team anytime you want. Most of them live here, so you’ll bump into them sooner or later anyway. Since you’ll be living here. But I’ll let you settle in first.”
I nod and say,
“Thank you.”

After walking a bit longer, we arrive at a door.
“Here. This is your room,” he says while opening it. He walks in, and so do I.

It’s quite a big room. It has a big window too—you can overlook the whole city. It’s very plain though: white walls, a queen-sized bed, a desk, two dressers, and a door.

“What’s behind the door?” I ask.

“Ooh,” he says, walking over and opening it.
“This is your bathroom.”

I walk toward him and take a look inside. It’s very plain again—a toilet, a little vanity, and a shower.

“Okay,” he says, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “I’ll let you settle in. If you’re hungry, you can come downstairs for dinner. I think Wanda is cooking tonight, so it’ll be good,” he says.

“Wanda?” I ask. “As in the Scarlet Witch?”

“Yes, as in the Scarlet Witch.”

I look at him, perplexed. He chuckles again—but this time longer and harder than before. Almost like a real laugh.

“Are you going to do that every time you hear about any of the people who live here?” he says. “Because we’re also just people.”

I look at the ground, kind of ashamed.
“Ooh, sorry. It’s just a bit hard to adjust.”

He bows down to my height so he can look me in the eyes.
“It’s totally normal. If you need anything, my room is right next to yours, and on your other side is Nat’s room. You can always ask both of us for help. Now I’ll really let you to it.”

In my head, I make a mental note of that—while also realizing he means Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow.

“Ah yes, thank you for letting me stay here and showing me around. I have just one question left.”

“Of course,” he says. “Anything.”

“Do I have to call you Dad?”

“Of course not,” he says. “You can just call me Steve.”

“Okay,” I say, smiling. He closes the door.

I drop down on my bed, exhausted and still kind of in shock.

Chapter Text

Jules' POV:
I decide to take a short nap. I stand up and walk over to my suitcase, where I know I packed something more comfortable than the clothes I’m wearing right now. I open it and grab a sweater and a loosely fitting pair of pants. After changing, I walk over to my bed.

I set an alarm for half an hour—just enough to rest for a bit. I drop down onto the bed and get under the covers. Almost immediately, I fall asleep.

Steve's POV:
I walk out of the door and close it behind me. I stand there for a moment, just letting it sink in—my actual daughter is in there. As I start to walk toward the kitchen, I hear a door opening behind me.

“So, how did it go?” I hear someone ask.

I turn around and see Nat standing there. I walk up to her and sigh.

“I think it went well,” I say, but the hesitation is obvious in my voice. “She seems like a very bright young woman, but also just a bit scared and confused. She didn’t even know how I met her mother.”

Nat looks at me like she’s thinking about what to say. After a moment, she responds.

“You know, I think she just needs time to adjust. She's scared. Her mother just died, and now she’s had to move away from her home to a new place filled with people she’s never met. That’s a lot to take in. Just give her time, try to earn her trust, and build a bond with her.”

I nod. She’s right.

“Want to spar?” she asks, a little twinkle in her eye.

“No, I’m fine, but thanks for the offer,” I reply. “I’m just going to see what Wanda is making for dinner tonight.”

“Okay,” she says, walking away. “If you want to get your ass beat, just say so. I’ll be down in the gym,” she adds with a smirk.

Jules' POV:
I slowly wake up to the sound of my alarm blaring in my ear. I reach for my phone to turn it off, but when I stretch my arm out, my hand hits the wall. Confused, I open my eyes.

Oh, right—I’m not at home anymore. I’m not in my usual room. Technically, it is mine now, but still. I roll onto my other side and silence the alarm.

I sit up and rub my eyes. It’s 7 p.m. Just as I’m about to get up, my stomach growls. I realize I haven’t eaten anything since this morning. I check myself in the mirror before heading downstairs. Yeah, I look presentable enough to meet the Avengers. No big deal.

I take a deep breath and open the door. I step out, ready to find the kitchen—only to realize I have no idea where I’m going. I wander a bit, nearly giving up, when I hear voices. A few seconds later, two women come around the corner. When they see me, they immediately walk over.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you,” I say. “Could you point me to the kitchen? I seem to be lost.”

“Yeah, of course,” the taller brunette replies. “We were just on our way there. You can walk with us.” She smiles. “I’m Kate—Kate Bishop. And this is Yelena.”

“Hii,” Yelena says in a teasing voice. “And you are?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m Jules. Jules Smith. I just moved in here because… well, my mother died, and then I found out that Steve is my dad.”

“Oohh,” Yelena says. “Yeah, we heard you were coming. And I’m really sorry about your mom. How are you liking it here?”

“It’s nice,” I reply. “It’s just a big building, so I don’t really know where to go.”

“You haven’t gotten the grand tour yet?” Yelena asks, almost offended.

“Uhh, no, I haven’t.”

“Well, let’s fix that,” Kate chimes in.

They take me along and start showing me around. After walking for a bit, I catch a whiff of something—food. At the same time, my stomach growls again. I laugh awkwardly, and so do Kate and Yelena—though theirs is a real laugh.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Kate asks.

“This morning,” I admit.

“Well, let’s fix that, too,” she says. “Wanda’s making tacos. And hers are delicious.”

We walk into the kitchen, me in the middle of Kate and Yelena. Everyone looks up, and suddenly the whole room goes quiet. Then someone says:

“Damn, she’s like your spitting image, Steve.”

I look up to see who said that. I don’t recognize him immediately—but then I do. He’s the Winter Soldier. The brainwashed Russian assassin guy.

Next to him stands Steve, looking very awkward. He clears his throat.

“Okay everyone, this is Jules. She’s my daughter. She’ll be living here for a while. Everyone—Jules. Jules—everyone.”

I wave awkwardly and mumble a quiet “Hi.”

Before anything else can happen, Yelena chimes in:

“Okay, you’ve all seen her. Can we eat now?”

A wave of chuckles fills the room, and everyone takes a seat. It seems like everyone has an assigned seat, so I pick an empty chair at the end of the table. In front of me sits Wanda, who I recognize from TV.

“Hey,” she says. “I’m Wanda. It’s nice to meet you, Jules. Also, I’m very sorry for your loss. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” I say. “That’s very kind of you.”

She smiles. “Here—have some of this. I made them. Thought you might like it.” She starts loading my plate with tacos.

“Thank you,” I say, and take a bite.

It’s wonderful—one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.

“Oh wow,” I say. “These are amazing.”

She smiles and puts a few more on my plate. “Here, have more. There’s plenty.”

Halfway through my second plate—don’t judge me, I hadn’t eaten all day—someone sits next to me. It’s a boy, around my age. He’s cute, I think. I’ve never really done the whole “boys” thing. I was always too busy with school or my mom.

“Hi,” I say shyly.

“Hi,” he replies. “I’m Peter. You’re Jules, right? Cap’s daughter?”

I nod. “Nice to meet you,” I say.

“Nice to meet you too.”

He looks at me kind of intensely.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask.

“No, nothing. You just have some sauce on your cheek.” He reaches out and wipes it off.

I go extremely red. He pretends not to notice, but across from me, Wanda and a guy I later learn is Clint Barton—Hawkeye—are trying not to laugh.

After everyone finishes eating, people head off to do their own thing. I bring my plate to the kitchen.

“Do you need help with anything?” I ask Wanda.

“No, that’s okay, sweetie,” she replies.

“Okay,” I say, and walk away.

I see Steve walking toward me.

“Hey,” he says. “How was it? I hope it wasn’t too overwhelming.”

“No, it was fine,” I reply. “Everyone’s so nice.”

“That’s good to hear,” he says. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Actually… could you help me find my room again? Kate and Yelena showed me around, but the building’s so big I’m worried I’ll get lost.”

He laughs. “Of course.”

As we walk, I decide to ask: “Who’s that Peter guy? I’ve never seen him on the news.”

Steve hesitates before answering. “He’s… just an intern from Tony. But they have a special bond. No one really understands it.”

“Aah,” I say—but I know he’s holding something back. I’ve always been good at reading people.

“Well, anyway—here we are,” he says, standing awkwardly in front of my door. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.” He hands me a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” I ask, confused.

“My number,” he says. “In case you need anything… or if you get lost.” He adds the last part with a chuckle.

I blush again, embarrassed.

“I might not reply immediately,” he adds. “I don’t always understand my phone.”

Now I’m the one laughing, and he’s the one blushing.

“Well, goodnight,” I say, stepping into my room.

“Goodnight,” he replies, walking away.

I close my door, put on my pajamas, and almost immediately fall asleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning, I wake up with the sun hitting my face. I groan, not wanting to wake up. Damn, this bed is comfortable. I turn around and grab my phone to see what time it is.

11:30. I never let myself sleep in this late. I always had work, school, or my mother to take care of. I slowly sit up and pull myself out of bed. I open the curtains, and I’m greeted by the most beautiful sight of New York.

I’ve always wanted to go to New York with my mom. I knew she would have loved it. I would too. But now I’m here. Alone. And it hits hard. Too hard. I quickly turn away from the window.

I decide to take a shower, but this time I don’t rush. I take my time and let the warm water stream over me. After a while, I get out. I dry myself off and put my hair in a clip. I walk over to my suitcase. I haven’t unpacked yet, but I’ll do that later today. I grab a pair of jeans and the first oversized T-shirt I can find.

Then I decide that I really need some food because I’m starving. I walk out of my room and try to find the kitchen. This time, I get there in minutes. I’m starting to understand the layout of the tower.

When I arrive in the kitchen, only Steve and Bucky are there.

"Hi," I say shyly, not wanting to disturb them.

They turn around to face me.

"Good morning," Steve says. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I did. I normally don’t sleep in this late, but the bed is amazing. The room too. Thanks for letting me stay here—I really appreciate it," I reply.

"No worries," he says. "We’re happy to have you."

I walk over to the coffee machine and make myself a cup.

"There’s food in the fridge," Bucky says.

I flinch—not because I’m scared of him (okay, maybe a little)—but because I’ve never heard him talk until now.

"Oh, thank you," I reply. I walk over and open the fridge. I grab some food and my coffee, which is about done now. I take a seat on one of the barstools.

"So, what are you planning to do today?" Steve asks.

"I don’t know," I reply, my mouth half full. I swallow before continuing. "I’m thinking I might just look around the city. I’ve never actually been in New York. Me and my mom always wanted to, but then she got sick and… yeah." My voice trails off.

"That sounds like a great idea," Steve says. "I’d love to show you around, but we—" he points at himself and Bucky, "have a mission later today."

"That’s okay," I reply. "I don’t mind going alone. I’ll just take the subway or something—I’ll figure it out."

Behind me, I hear a snort. I turn around to see who it’s coming from. It’s the same guy who sat next to me during dinner. I try to remember his name. Oh yeah—it was Peter. Tony Stark’s mystery intern.

"What?" I ask.

"You’re not going to figure out the subway on your own if you’re here for the first time," he says, taking a seat next to me.

"Why not?" I reply.

"Because it’s a mess," he says. "But I don’t have any classes for the rest of the day. I can show you around."

"Uh… yeah, okay," I say, not totally sure.

"Well, let’s go then," he says. "I’ll meet you here in 10 minutes. Just need to drop off my backpack," he adds, getting up.

"Okay," I reply, quickly downing my coffee and shoving the last bit of food into my mouth. "Thanks for breakfast!" I call out as I jog up the stairs.

When I get to my room, I put on just a bit of makeup—just so I look more alive. And maybe, just maybe, so I look cute. I check my phone to see what time it is.

Shit—it’s already been 15 minutes. I quickly grab my shoes and run down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Sorry!" I say when I arrive, finding him patiently waiting, looking at his phone.

He looks good. Too good. I shake my head—he probably already has a girlfriend, especially looking like that.

"I’m ready," I say.

He looks up from his phone. For a second, he just stares at me.

"You look good," he stammers.

"Thanks," I say, blushing. I hear Bucky snort. I choose to ignore it.

"Okay, let’s go," he says, jumping to his feet. "Follow me."

So I do. He leads me out of the building.

"So, I heard you’ve never been to New York before," he says.

"Yeah, I haven’t," I say. "I’ve always wanted to, but it was never really possible."

He looks at me while he talks. I like that, I think. It’s like he’s actually listening. No one really did that—or at least not the people I used to know.

"Well then, today I’ll give you the grand tour of New York," he says. "But first—I need more food. I know this great place for sandwiches. I’ll show you."

"Okay," I say. "I could eat."

"So, what do you study?" I ask him.

"Oh, I study chemical engineering at MIT. Mr. Stark put in a good word for me, so I got in."

"That’s nice," I reply. "Do you study anything?" he asks, looking at me again with those beautiful eyes.

"Well, I used to study family law, but… well, then I had to move. And before that, I couldn’t really attend because of my mom and my two jobs."

"Oh, I’m sorry," he says.

"It’s okay," I say. "I might pick it up again here."

Chapter Text

After walking around for a while, we arrive at a little sandwich shop.

“Let’s go in here,” Peter says. “They have the best sandwiches in New York.”

“Okay,” I say, quick to follow him because I'm scared to get lost in the crowd.

As we walk in, I hear a little ding from a bell announcing our arrival. Then I hear an unknown voice from the other side of the store.

“Aaah, Mister Parker. Aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?”

As soon as Peter hears the voice, a soft smile spreads across his face.

“No,” he says. “My class was canceled.”

“Well, stay in school, kid,” the man replies.

I can now see a middle-aged man standing behind the counter.

“What can I get you?” he asks.

“I’ll have a number 5 with extra pickles—and can you squeeze it down real flat?” Peter says.

“What do you want?” Peter asks me.

I look up at the menu to see what they sell. In the end, I decide to have the same as Peter, just without the pickles.

“Ooh, and who might you be?” the man behind the counter asks.

“I’m Jules Smith, sir.”

He chuckles. “You don’t have to call me sir, you know.”

Then I hear him say something to Peter in Spanish.

“Bueno, ¿quién es esta bonita jovencita, eh? ¿Tu novia?”
(Well, who is this pretty young lady, huh? Your girlfriend?)

I don’t understand what he's saying. I dropped my Spanish class as soon as I could. I’ve never been very good at learning languages.

I look at Peter, confused. But as soon as I turn my head, I see his face flushing, slowly turning red.

“What does that mean?” I ask quietly.

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. His curls fall over his face. I would love to run my hands through them. I shake my head, trying to get those thoughts out. I’ve only known him for, like, a day.

Lost in my own head, I miss half of what Peter says back to the guy behind the counter.

“Ella es solo una amiga. Solo le estoy mostrando la ciudad.”
(She’s just a friend. I’m just showing her around the city.)

The man claps his hands. “Well, anyway, here are your sandwiches. And enjoy New York, Jules,” he says.

Peter throws some money on the counter. When we are outside the store, I start talking.

“I could have paid for that, you know.”

“It’s fine,” he says, already eating his sandwich. “Anyway, where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Maybe some of the more touristy places—Times Square, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building… you know, stuff like that. But I understand if you don’t want to see that. I imagine you’ve seen it hundreds of times already.”

“You ramble a lot, you know,” he says. “I’m more than happy to show you around—otherwise I wouldn’t have offered. I’ll show you the best places in New York. And now, you should eat your sandwich.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling a blush spread over my cheeks.

“There’s nothing like summer in the city, you know. Everything just feels so happy and free,” he says.

“Yeah,” I say, agreeing with him.

As we're walking around the city, he starts telling me all these random little things about it. It’s kind of nerdy, but it’s cute. I like this side of him.

After walking around for a while, it slowly starts getting dark.

“We should head back,” he says. “I’ve still got a lot of homework to do.”

“Ooh, yes, of course,” I say. “I totally understand. Let’s just grab some food before we go back, though. I don’t know who’s cooking tonight, but I’m craving pizza so bad right now,” he groans.

So that’s what we do. On our way back, we stop at an old Italian place where we pick up two pizzas. The owner gives us an extra bag of garlic bread.

“For the cute couple,” he says.

We both turn red immediately and start denying it.

As soon as we arrive back at the tower, I get nervous all of a sudden. It’s not that I don’t like these people—it’s just that I’m tired and not in the mood for talking to more people right now.

Like he reads my mind, Peter says, “You can go up to your room if you want. I’ll cover for you. Say that you’re tired.”

I look at him, kind of confused.

“Well… okay. Thank you,” I say.

As we get in the elevator, I hear a voice. I jump, not expecting that, and frantically look around.

“What the hell was that?”

Peter smiles at me, and immediately my fear of the voice disappears.

“That’s FRIDAY. I can’t believe you haven’t been introduced to her. She’s an AI and she'll help you with anything.”

“That’s right, Miss Smith. Or would you like to go by Rogers now?”

“Uhhh… Smith is fine for now,” I say, hesitant.

And then the elevator stops.

Chapter Text

what just happend? i ask. frantically looking around. i dont kow peter says. looking almost as panickd as i do. Friday? he asks but he gets no reaction from the ai. i look for the control panel to see if there is an emegrency button. but there isnt even an control panel.

its doesnt have a panel. Mr stark jjst relys on friday to bring you where you have to go. peter says. okay well what now i ask? well euh now im going to call mr stark to see if he can fix it for us so were not stuck in the elevator for the rest of whole etertyy, he half jokes. he pulls out his phone and starts calling someone.

im sorry peter but this is not funny. i say feeling my breath quicken. he finally looks up from his phone. are you okay Jules. yea im fine i say. but im not. i hate hate hate closed spaces. i grab at my chest trying to smooth my breathing out. i slowly slide down the wall until im sat on the floor of the elevator. why the hell am i stuck in a fucking elevator with peter.

my breathing starts going faster and faster. he puts his phone down and drops down to my level. hey its okay. our just having a panic attack, do you have these more often. i nod my head yes. okkay just realx we are getting out of here. im calling mr stark right now. well be okay. i nod my head not really listening to what hes saying. i barely register hm taking of his jacket. oh my god its hot in here he says. come on lets get that jacket of of you he says because youll boil to death otherwise. im not even listening. im just trying to calm my breaths.

thn i fell his hands on my shoulders. i flinch. its okay Jules its just m. im going to takes this of you because our really hot. he stuttters. i mean not in that way, not that i dont think yur hot cus our like really pretty but your very warm and if were going to stuck here for a while it might be helpful to not be so hot.

i chuckle softly. his rambeling is cute. it helps, distracting me form the fact that were stuck in a very small cubicle.