I've got a soft spot for Steve recovering pieces of his past. Imagine some great grand cousins on the Rogers side contacting Steve, showing him pictures of his father, to see if that's really who they think it is?
Tony had told him not to go, because it’s the twenty-first century, Cap. Anyone can seem like they’re honest. It’s a scam. Don’t go.
Steve had gone.
(Natasha had handed him a manila folder without a word and Steve hadn’t needed it, was going to go anyway, because he’d known the man was honest, he didn’t need Natasha’s background-check-ancestry.com-spy-skills to prove it.)
They met in a café, small and out of the way. The man was reserved, with an average build, but he had a wry quirk to his mouth, the same square to his jaw.
His name was Joseph (call me Joe) and they muscled through stilted small talk for several minutes before Joe caved (Steve never said he was always the brave one).
“I brought –I thought you might like to see these. It’s why I tried to contact you in the first place.” Joe produced an envelope with a handful of black and white pictures in them, edges worn but lovingly kept. “I think we’re…” Joe paused. “…cousins.”
Steve sifted through them carefully: a man in a military uniform with a serious set to his mouth, sporting the jaw that Steve and Joe seemed to have inherited; the same man and a woman smiling, the man in his uniform and a slight woman –a slight –Steve’s mother- in a white dress.
“That – that’s my mother.” Steve set the third picture down carefully. “Where did you get these?”
The ghost of a smile was hovering on Joe’s lips. “My mother. Her grandmother had a brother that died young, in the First World War. I didn’t think much of it until I saw-“
“Yeah.” Joe smiled. “I just thought,” he motioned to his face, “there’s some similarities and what they had on your family, it wasn’t much, but it looked like the woman in the wedding pictures.” He shrugged. “I thought it’d be worth a shot.”
Steve smiled. “I’m glad you did. I didn’t realize I had any family. It was always Ma and me, and then…just me.”
Something shifted in Joe’s face that Steve recognized as what Sam called his Stubborn Ass Resolve face.
“Look, I know you probably have plans or invitations, but my wife and I host Thanksgiving every year. We always have room for more family.”
Steve sipped his coffee in an effort to distract from the itch in his eyes and be sure his voice would hold.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”