Steve studies Clint, reading the man with the ease of twenty-four years of life-based experience and almost twelve years of training.

"I'd like some tea," he says, resting a hand on Sarah's head. She looks up at him with Peggy's pinched expression, the look that says I know you're thinking something you aren't telling me.

"Could you get a little of the top-shelf for Agent Barton? The one with the black label that Uncle Dugan likes." Steve raises an eyebrow in question at Clint. Sarah takes her sister's hand and heads for the kitchen.

Once they're out of immediate earshot, Steve settles on to the couch, rubbing his knees with both hands. "Make yourself comfortable. I get the feeling we'll be here a while."

He has a million questions, but he won't start until Peggy's signalled she's ready.