Soldier's Boy (Avenger X OC)

Chapter 7

Natasha landed the jet not too far from where the boys are, before getting out of her set and towards me, leaving the other SHIELD agent to look after the controls.

"Hey, we haven't talked much. What's your name?" I looked up at her as she came and sat next to me.

"Micheal"

"Micheal, can I ask you a question?"

I didn't see anything wrong with it, so I said, "Yeah sure."

"About what Loki said, Rogers" I look up at her. There was my last name again, but I liked it coming from her, she didn't have the same venomous hate that the other guy did. "I think it's a perfect fit, I mean, you look like a younger Steve Rogers."

I looked up at her, "How? I'm born in 1950, I'm nineteen years old, and if it is true, that this is 2012, then shouldn't I have about sixty years old? Do I look to be sixty? No."

"Steve went into the ice at twenty-seven, the shoulder be ninety-three, but does he look to be in his ninety's? No, he still looks to be in his mid to late twenty's."

There was a bit of awkward silence between us as Natasha looked around, anywhere but at me. I could see her eye land on my shield, but I didn't have enough strength to stop her from going toward it. "Why does it look like Steve's?

"My father looks up to him after Steve saved him in the second world war."

Natasha picks it up and span it around, before stopping it at the writing. Her eyes widened as I watch her read it over. "So, you are Steve's son?"

She was going to find out sooner for later, "It's confusing. And no one can know." She imitated zipping her lips before pasting me my shield and making her way to the front of the ship. As everyone else started to walk in.

Steve came and sat next to me and slowly whispered to me that I should get some sleep, which I accepted.

*Steve's POV*

I look down upon the sleeping kid. He had dark circles that hung under his eyes and smelled of ash, most likely from the burning building he told me about. His nails were back from dirt, his blond hair was knotted, and in need of a haircut.

I turned my head to look down at his shield. The paint looked worn and damaged due to battle, the shield was black with a red, white, and blue star in the middle, which reminded me of my own.

I looked towards the kid once more, he had pulled the zip down from his jacket before falling asleep. The shirt below that blue jacket and a lighter blue top that had a star in the middle towards the top reminded me of my uniform. The collar of the jacket had slowly started to slip off his shoulder bringing the SHIELD logo into view.

Footsteps pulled me out of my thought, as I looked up to see the caring face of one of our new teammates, Thor.

"You have a nice son there; you have taught him well. There is no one else who would be more fitting to be a father than you." Thor's question made me freeze. I didn't know how to answer it, he wasn't my son.

I look down at the kid again, and the answer came naturally, "Yeah, he's amazing." His parents are very lucky to have been gifted with a kid like him.

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The jet landed and I carefully picked up the kid bridal style and walked down the ramp of the aircraft.

"Hey, Steve." I turned around to see Natasha walking down the ramp I had just exited from. Holding the boy's shield "Are you talking Micheal back to his room?" Micheal that must be his name, with everything that has been happening, I forgot to introduce myself and ask for his name.

"Yeah, it's on the way to my room so it's not too far out of my way." Natasha handed me Micheal's shield and walked off after Mr. Stark and the two gods.

I carried Micheal all the way back to his room before twisting the hand to the door and walking in. I closed the door with the heel of my boot and walked towards the bed, carefully placed Micheal down, and pulled the blanks up over his body.

I hung his shield up on the hook that sat on the back of the door before beginning to look about his room to see if he had a spear change of clothes.

My eyes landed on an open drawstring bag that lay on his bedside table. I knew it is not good to look through someone's belongings, but he needs to have some clothes to get dressed into once he woke up.

I pulled the drawstring bag up and peeked inside. Nope, no clothes. I placed it back down on the bedside table and turned around and started to walk towards his door. I was going to get him some of my clothes.

My hands touched the metal door handle and were about to turn it open when something fell. Turning back to look I found the drawstring bag laying on the floor. The only thing that had fallen out was a card-like object.

I bent down to pick it up when I read what was written on the back. In neat handwriting, it read, Micheal Rogers 18th Birthday Day 1968. I turned it over to realize that it was a black and white photo of Micheal and another man that must have been his father. He reminded me of myself, the only difference separating up was the fact he looked much older and had grown a beard.

I placed the photo back in his back and moved it to sit back on his bedside table and walked towards the door. With one final look, I walked out of his room and down the hall towards mine to get him a top and some pants.

In my mind, I was trying to figure out how Micheal had ended up here if he was nineteen and had his birthday in 1969, as well as how he would have ended up with the same last name as me, most likely a relative of some sort.

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