Chapter Text
Not many know they have a neighbour. Tony knew. He knows, and mostly owns, all of the companies and subsidiaries that hold property next to the avengers compound.
Nat knew. She made it her business to know what was in the woods that hid her new home. The cabin she found to the east on one of her excursions was cute. A little log number that looked like it jumped out of a storybook. It was about two miles into the woods.
Clint knew and visited often. He liked the odd neighbour that seemed completely unphased by the avenger on her wrap around porch. She made him tea and french vanilla cookies. He fixed a shingle on her roof.
The shield agents had no clue. You needed clearance that only Hill, Fury, and the Avengers had. They just knew the eastern woods were strictly off-limits. Not that many were dumb enough to just wander outside their workplace. Those that were were let go rather fast.
Most surprising of all one Steven Grant Rogers had no idea. Not until Tony gave him a folded map of all things the day after a hard mission. He plopped it unceremoniously in front of his coffee mug that morning while he was trying to read the paper.
Steve sighed, "What's this?" After taking out a small but stubborn HYDRA stronghold he was in precisely no mood to deal with Tony's shenanigans. Especially with only 4 hours of fitful sleep under his belt.
"A ticket to Disneyland, what's it look like?" He asked smirking. Steve's withering glare had little effect, "Oh come on. I figured the world's biggest boy scout would," he set his mug down on the breakfast nook of the shared kitchen to count his points out on his fingers, "One, still know how to read a map and two, want to be nice and friendly to our new neighbour."
Steve sighed in exasperation, "Of course I know how to read a map. I'm not- wait. Neighbour? Since when do we have a neighbour?"
"We've been here a month and you didn't notice that some of the team vanish into the woods with random crap like knock-off little red riding hood?"
He did notice. Sam walking into the forest with a box of Oreos in one hand and a trowel in the other two weeks ago was weird, "I figured if they didn't tell me I wouldn't ask."
"You are too polite for your own good. Go where the map is marked," he said scooping up his mug. Leaving the dining room he shouted over his shoulder, "And take a dessert from the staff kitchens. She has a sweet tooth."
That's how Captain America found himself jogging through the woods in upstate New York carrying a hefty slice of cherry pie in a to-go box. The weather was pleasant enough. A cool bite to the air in the shade was like a whispered promise of autumn. This quiet time let him wonder something, though.
Who in the world would Tony “Trust Issues” Stark let live next to the Avengers HQ?
Steve had no clue what to expect when he finally reached his destination but it wasn't this. A two-story log cabin in the middle of nowhere. A dirt road lead from a shed and disappeared around the house. Potted plants ruled nearly every flat surface on the porch and much of what would be the front yard was taken over by rows of carefully tended garden. A small woman sat in an antique rocking chair by the front door.
She crossed her legs and started rocking. She wore a light blue linen dress down to her ankles with a cream-colored apron tied around her waist. It honestly looked like something his mother would have worn. It looked good on her lean frame and olive complexion. Her black hair was tied back and braided to keep the locks from her face.
She was calmly sipping tea from a steaming mug. A plate of chocolate chip cookies on the small table next to her. He then noticed the other steaming cup next to an empty rocking chair. She cocked her head to the vacancy and pushed the plate of cookies over to what he assumed was now his seat.
“I was wonderin’ when you were gonna show,” She drawled. Her voice was high and musical colored with a deep southern accent, "Thought I'd go grey before you graced my property, Captain Rogers."
"Had I known we had a neighbor I may have…" he started awkwardly.
Her vaguely judgemental expression cracked as she tried to keep in her laughter, “Oh im only pullin’ your leg there Captain Rogers. I told Mr.Stark to not tell you until you got more used to the 21st century. My house is like a 1950s time capsule. I didn't know how you would react.” She stood to greet him properly with a hand held out, “My name is Willow Brown and it is very good to finally meet you.”
She pronounced Willow like “Willuh”. He shook her hand and took the offered seat on her porch. It was peaceful here and he could see why some of the team dropped by. God only knows how they needed some serenity in their lives.
But what did she do to earn the right to live so close to the avengers? Did she just refuse to sell? Did she have some connection to SHIELD? Something wasnt adding up.
“I can see the gears turning behind your eyes,” She said. That snapped him out of his musings rather fast, “Ask before you bust somthin’, Captain.”
“Please, call me Steve,” He said, “I hope you dont think me rude but why are you allowed to live so close to the compound?”
She just stared at him over her tea. Her gaze seemed to weigh his soul as it dragged on. She nodded and set the cup down, “Not rude at all. You want to protect your friends and you know enough of the world to not trust that a 5’3” woman is all she seems. You would also be right in that assumption. I am not all I seem. That's also why I haven't moved. No matter how many zeros were on the check Stark tried to hand me at first."
She laughed with the last statement. Steve pressed on, "If it was that high why not move? It's not exactly safe near our headquarters."
"I couldn't move even if I wanted to,” She stared into the distance for a moment then shook her head, “ I also have my ways of keeping safe," she said standing, "Now if we're done with the third degree I will now extend to you the offer I extend to all guests."
Her cadences changed then to a well-rehearsed tone like that of quote. Or a prayer. She opened her door and said, "I welcome you to my home and offer you shelter and hospitality. I offer food, drink and comfort at any time so long as you dwell herein and as long as you do no harm to me or mine."
He didn't know quite how to take that. He said, "Thank you?"
She smiled as she followed him inside, "Its a family tradition from 'the old country'. Back then you never knew who would go knockin on your door so you treated everyone like a king."
“Fair enough!” He said. Her living room was furnished for comfort in browns and creams. A sofa that had seen better days sat near an equally decrepit yet comfy looking lazy boy. Crocheted throw blankets added eclectic pops of color and a cozy feel. In the farthest corner was a television that had to have come out maybe 10 years into his time on ice. Maybe. In another was a large stone fireplace with various pictures on the hearth. Books were stacked on nearly every table along with lush houseplants of varying sizes.
She was right. It was like stepping back in time. He had no words for the odd warmth mixed with trepidation that filled his chest at the mix of decades he knew and decades he missed.
"Bucky would love it here…” Said Steve with a soft distracted grin on his face, “It might jog some memories. Good ones this time. He needs as much of that as he can get. ”
She put a hand on his arm and said, “You may want to take a closer gander at the frames on the hearth first. Don't want him to get the shock you're ‘bout to.” Her quiet and subdued demeanor she's worn the entire visit lit with playful teasing in her eyes. It seemed all her emotions were just subtle indications and small gestures up until she was messing with someone.
He squinted in suspicious am usement and went to the hearth. The usual pictures of family pets and adorable babies were there. One he could recognise as a five or six year old willow grinning gap-toothed at the camera holding a bass up in triumph. The next picture drew him up short. It was the howlies, greyscale and worn. The one after that made his jaw nearly unhinge it dropped so fast. An old man held the same little girl on Christmas it looked like. However. he could recognise that stupid moustache and bowler hat number anywhere.
“You're Dum-Dum Dugan’s granddaughter…” he breathed, wide-eyed in near disbelief, “You're one of the howlies’ granddaughters.”
He studied her face again. He could see just a hint of the Dugan he knew. The shape of her eyes had a bit of him. Same with her nose. He had no clue how long he stared.
“Yes I am,” she replied finally, “My full name is Willow Amanita Brown-Dugan. He was my paternal grandfather.”
The moment was bittersweet at first. Wonder warred with time missed and he looked over Willow. Would he have been Great Uncle Steve had he not had the time on ice? Would he have watched her grow? Now he stood next to freaking Dum-Dum’s grandkid who looks to be the same age he was when he crashed.
But he is here now and that's what mattered. Who knows? He saved a lot of people that day. Maybe Willows grandma was one of them.
A smile so bright she thought she might need to cover her eyes spread across his face, “You know what this means?” He said scooping her up in a rib bending hug, “You're practically family, doll!”
He thanked Stark... in his mind.