I just want all the descendants of the Howling Commandos to be this big, extended, up-in-each-others-business family
and they aren’t all in SHIELD but they all have a rough idea of what’s going on and if one of them shows up in the middle of the night, they’re guaranteed a safe place to sleep, a meal and a scolding
‘You better live through this. If you die, your mom’ll call my mom and there’ll be hell to pay’
I want them to have big “family reunions” every five years where everybody—fuckin’ EVERYBODY—makes it out to some campground or something where they all hang out and have a softball tournament and cut up a sheet cake so big it feeds two hundred people. That’s when you meet peoples’ new SOs and pass around babies and congratulate kids on their new jobs.
oh god, and if they had the first one five years after the war ended, they’re due for one in 2015, and it’s the first one Steve gets to attend, and he gets there and it’s basically the best/worst experience of his entire life to date, because there are all these people who walk like Jim and grin like Dugan and say their vowels like Falsworth, and they all want to tell him stories about Dad, about Granddad, about Great-Granddad, they want to hear his stories from the war, they want to invite him to college graduations and weddings and christenings, and when he starts to get a little overwhelmed by all of it one of Gabe’s daughters pulls him aside on some pretense and gives him ten minutes to pull himself back together before she gets his email for the howlingfamilies listserv, which she runs.
(oh god, and two hours into it he catches a pack of Dernier kids arguing in rapid French over whether they should tell their parents about the man up a tree at the far edge of the campground that they saw while they were playing hide-and-seek, and Steve walks into the woods with his heart in his throat, and the tree’s empty now but he hears a twig crack behind him, deliberate, because Bucky knows how to walk quieter than that, and when he turns around Bucky looks— well, a hell of a lot better than he did a year ago, a hell of a lot more like himself, even with the shadows still around his eyes and the smile almost wavering at the edges of his mouth.)
Instant. Headcanon.
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