You had always known the weight of your last name. Rogers. It wasn’t just a name; it was a legacy, a responsibility, an unspoken promise to live up to the man who wore it before you. From the time you could walk, you were running in your father’s oversized boots, wielding a makeshift shield, mimicking the symbol of freedom himself. The Avengers had laughed, Tony calling you "Mini Cap" while Natasha and Clint took bets on how long it would take before you started trying to punch your way through problems.

But as you got older, admiration sharpened into something stronger—determination, defiance. You weren’t just Steve Rogers’ child; you were his heir in every way that mattered. The Super Soldier Serum pulsed through your veins, gifting you with strength beyond your years. Yet, no matter how fast you ran, no matter how hard you trained, Steve insisted on keeping you out of his world.

“No,” was his favorite word. No training, no missions, no being an Avenger. No, because the world was dangerous. No, because he couldn’t lose you.

But you weren’t built to sit on the sidelines.

Peter was your escape, your partner-in-crime, sneaking out to do what you were born to do—help people. The first time you stopped a robbery, adrenaline had roared through your body like fire. The first time Steve caught you, fear had thundered in his voice like a storm.

Tonight, the storm finally broke.

"You almost died!" His voice cut through the air like a blade, his shield discarded on the floor beside him. His hands trembled as they ran through his hair, exhaustion lining his face.

"You think I don’t know that?" you shot back, standing toe-to-toe with Captain America himself. "I saved lives today!"

"You nearly lost yours!"

You swallowed hard, fists clenching at your sides. "And what if I did? Would that make you proud? That I didn't just do nothing while people got hurt?"

The silence between you was heavy. Steve's chest rose and fell, his blue eyes blazing with a thousand things he wanted to say.

You both knew the fight wasnt over