Steve waits while the other man sizes him up. He's used to this game. It's not one he's ever played himself - he's too used to being considered the low rung on the male social ladder to merit more than scorn. When Peter offers his free hand, Steve gives it a very gentle shake and flashes a very small smile.

No threats here, honest.

Peter isn't convinced, but Olivia trusts the guy. As far as Peter himself is concerned, whatever fragile support of trust he'd built up since coming to Boston got shot down by... the other woman. The other woman, whom by now the rest of the team was half-convinced had killed their Olivia. He slips his hand out of hers and puts an arm around her shoulders instead. "Your parents have a sense of humor. Or didn't really pay attention to pop culture."

"I beg your pardon?" Steve clasps his hands behind his back, settling into the familiar territory of social ignorance.

"Steve Rogers. Captain America? It's a comic book thing. Used to read them when I was little." A pause, then Peter nods. "Thanks. For helping her."

Steve will get around to answering in a minute. For now, he's just looking at Peter like the man has pulled a rug out from under his feet.