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The first time Steve witnessed a Sentinel and Guide meeting, he was too young to understand what was happening. He was seven and his mother had taken him to a diner, a rare treat for the both of them. They were sitting in their favorite booth looking towards the waitress bringing their plates when the woman stepped into the diner, wearing a police uniform and that special collar that meant she was a Sentinel, though anyone seeing a woman wearing a police uniform knew she had to be a Sentinel either way. Back then, ordinary women weren't allowed into service.
Seemingly completely out of the blue, the waitress dropped their plates and Steve remembers being dismayed, staring at his pancakes scattered and broken all over the floor, wondering if he had to starve now and if his mother would cry. Back then Steve had always been terrified that anything that happened and that could even vaguely be perceived as his fault would make his mother cry, primarily because she cried every time he got sick. He wasn't sick at the time, but that didn't mean much. Winter was coming and they both knew he'd be struck by the flu that always hit him so much harder than anyone else soon. Every time Steve lay sick and feverish in bed, his mother was scared he would die, and she worked hard to be able to afford the best medicine as she could buy for him.
Steve's pancakes and his mother's breakfast were scattered across the floor, and the waitress stood frozen in the middle of it, black shoes stained with eggyolk. And yet, she diddn't react at all to the stain or the mess even as the other diners' guests did, turning in their seats to stare. But the waitress was focused on the Sentinel, who stood frozen staring at her for a moment before striding towards her purposefully. With an animalistic snarl, the Sentinel grabbed the waitress, but even not understanding at all what was happening Steve could tell that her grip was gentle, protective and careful. The way his mother touched him when she dabbed the sweat from his forehead with a soft, cool cloth, murmuring to him soothingly.
The Sentinel took the waitress in her arms, and the waitress laughed and they kissed, and then the Sentinel took her away, out of the diner, leaving Steve and his mother's food a dirty mess on the floor.
Worried what he'd see, Steve had looked at his mother only to find her smiling. Not widely – his mother was never joyful, never even quite happy – but a lot more than Steve was used to seeing from her. Startled, he'd asked her what happened, and she had explained it to him.
At seven, Steve already knew what not to say to his mother, so when she used words like "true love" and "forever", he didn't ask "like you and father?" even though he wanted to. He understood that there was no "forever" for his parents, knew that his father was dead and buried, and while he wanted to know whether there had been something as deep and meaningful as the bond between Sentinel and Guide between his parents, he knew better than to ask.
The other waitress brought them fresh plates of food and apologized for the delay, and they didn't even have to pay. His mother's smile stayed for the whole day.
The memory stuck with Steve, stark and clear against the blurry background of his childhood, bright against the steady thread of sadness and sickness weaving through the years.
Fifteen years later Steve is in hell, also to be known as World War II, and he sees Sentinels and Guides coming together, fighting together and dying together. They're not special in the sense that they're worth more than the average soldier, but it's undeniable that in some instances they're priceless. Not to mention, they're good to have at your back because they form bonds with the people they spend a lot of time with. Steve gains a healthy respect for Sentinels and Guides as individuals, and the respect he already has for their bonds increases every time he witnesses what should've been an impossible feat of action being executed to protect a bondmate.
Eighty-seven years later Steve witnesses the first meeting of one Tony Stark, the son of one of his best friends, and Loki, an unknown yet clearly dangerous entity. And Steve knows – he knows not all Sentinels and Guides are good. They're people just like everybody else, can come with different moral codes than Steve's. Being a Sentinel or Guide doesn't automatically make them good people, nevermind their instincts. Howard Stark was a good man and a good friend to Steve, but having him as a father doesn't make a person automatically good either. And truly, Tony Stark does not make a good impression on Steve the way he comes in expecting everybody to be wowed by his brilliance, bowing to his perceived superiority.
That doesn't mean at all, however, that Fury has a right to deny Tony Stark, a Guide, access to his Sentinel and mate. Especially not considering both their age and how painful it must have been for both of them to be without each other for so long. Frankly, Steve is shocked at Fury's attempts at interference and he fully supports Guide Stark's actions when he forces the doors open. If nothing else, it's the expression on both their faces – even more heart-wrenching than that waitress and policewoman all those years ago, almost as heart-breaking as the bondings he witnessed in the middle of the battlefield. Steve doesn't understand Fury at all, and he's unpleasantly surprised when it turns out that Fury doesn't appear to be an outlier but the norm when Barton actually tries to physically interrupt the bonding. That's why he's a little out of line when he demands, "Are you insane? You can't interfere with a bonding!"
Barton looks angry and confused both. "That's not a real bonding," he claims, "he's just faking it, come on, everybody knows Stark doesn't have a mate."
Steve didn't know that and as bad an impression as the man made on him, he feels a stab of sympathy at that. No Guide deserves to live with that sort of knowledge or reputation. "He didn't use to," he returns firmly, pulling Barton away because the Sentinel – Loki – is going to be volatile and Steve is sure that if Barton makes another attempt at interrupting, that will end badly for everyone involved. "Clearly, he does now."
The next moment Stark and Loki vanish into thin air. Fury immediately starts bellowing orders for them to be found, to be tracked, chaos breaks out. With a disgusted expression Barton twists his arm out of Steve's grip and turns away.
Thor, Loki's brother, looks confused and angry in equal measure, clearly having no idea at all what just happened. Agents Barton and Romanov are talking, heads leaned together and expressions displeased, Fury is nowhere to be seen, and Dr. Banner has retreated to the other end of the room, out of the way of the chaos. Steve looks around, looks at how angry they look when Guide Stark and Sentinel Loki rightfully sought seclusion to commence their bonding, how they seem to think it's some sort of trick or a ploy, and wonders if there is anything left over from the world he grew up in at all. Remembers the expressions on Stark and Loki's faces, on that waitress and policewoman's, and knows that there is.
The others might not respect it, but Steve will. Stepping forwards, he puts a hand on Thor's arm and says, "Come, I'll explain it to you."