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♥ Main blog is/I reply as xy-zero | Masterlist here | relic_amaranth on AO3 | Just makin' some fanfic, switching between Supernatural and Captain America/Avengers (MCU). | Reader-insert focused with a drizzle of not!Reader-inserts. | If I do angst, it's with a happy ending in mind. | I swear a LOT, so beware; strong language abounds. | I am sorry but I do not take requests. | No beta (or posting schedule) we die like human disasters ♥

[fanfic-scribbles]

Masterlist

This post is formerly the masterlist for all stories, but it started getting too long so I portioned it out. Please click the title of the fandom you are looking for below to find new, better organized, masterlists. <3!

Supernatural Fanfic

Avengers/Captain America Fanfic

[fanfic-scribbles]

Second Helpings Chapter 6

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. And a boyfriend. Integrating two asocial partners sounds difficult, but it might be easier than anyone thinks.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader; Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes; eventual Steve/Bucky/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 6: Sleepover

Chapter Summary: An impromptu sleepover breaks the ice a little more.

Chapter Word Count: 3154

~

Living in New York City was an adventure, sometimes. Most of the time that adventure was ‘try to find food that is cheap but good and won’t hurt an aging digestive system,’ and that suited me just fine. It suited Steve just fine too.

Unfortunately, apparently aliens were now just a thing we had to deal with from time to time. And by ‘we,’ I meant Steve. I didn’t think uselessly worrying and watching for evacuations really counted.

Steve: Coming back down. Are you okay?

I squinted at my screen and tried not to think exactly what he meant by that. I failed. Coming down from where?

Me: They were nowhere near anything important, from what I can see. Homefront is fine; I’m at work and people aren’t even glancing at the windows anymore. Me: Are YOU okay? Steve: No injuries. <3 Talk later.

I sent back a cursory heart but set my phone aside. I thought about maybe checking in with Bucky, but decided against it. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and he probably wasn’t out with the Avengers given the whole…Tony thing. As far as I knew, they were all taking it day by day, and that was as far as I would push my nose into that business.

…But what if he had been in a bad spot and Steve also assumed (like me) that he was perfectly fine and no one was bothering to check in–

I picked my phone up and tried to think of the best nonchalant way to make sure someone wasn’t dead.

Me: All well on your side of town? Bucky: Yeah. Why? Me: Just being nosy Bucky: Nosy or worried?

I rolled my eyes. This is what happened when I was nice.

Me: Well, what if you got hit in the head by a stray rock? Terrible way to go. Bucky: A rock falling wouldn’t hit hard enough, and even if it did, it wouldn’t cause permanent brain damage, unless it fell from a lot higher than the buildings around me.

I…didn’t want to think about how that seemed a lot more knowledgeable than I was comfortable with. That was a common enough thing, if you knew Bucky long enough.

Bucky: Thanks for putting that in my head though Me: That a rock’s gonna fall from the atmosphere and bonk you? Bucky: That YOU might get bonked walking around

I snorted. He could say Steve got everything from him all he wanted, and written history was proving him out, but nobody cared about me like Steve did.

Me: Oh you don’t have to think about it Me: Getting bonked by falling architecture requires me to be outside and I refuse <3

~

So my apartment building was fine.

Mostly.

We just had no water and no electricity– for the entire night and probably into tomorrow. It almost wasn’t a concern. Almost. Realistically, I could live without a shower for one night, I had a powerbank for my phone, and as long as I didn’t open the fridge, my food would probably be fine.

But fuck it if that didn’t sound fucking miserable after spending so much of the day wound up and stressed out. Meanwhile, Steve had gotten home even before I got off work, and his place was just fine and dandy. And this gave me an excuse to check on him with my own eyes without actually having to admit I had been worried. That always made me feel kind of crappy– like it seemed I was questioning his capabilities, when I was really just a neurotic worrywart.

Me: Hellooooo best boyfriend ever whomst I love most dearly

Steve responded…well, quite reasonably, actually.

Steve: Oh God, who did you kill? Steve: Bucky says he can help with cleanup.

I actually smiled. That was oddly touching.

Me: The populace remains safe from me another night Me: But: I do need a favor

I explained the situation, putting in a lot of sad faces and emphasis on how stupid it all was, ending with…

Me: Soooo I could try to struggle my way up the stairs and stare at my tiny phone screen until bedtime Me: Or maybe I could crash on your couch? <3 Steve: Sweetheart. Steve: Of course you can come over. Me: You didn’t even ask Bucky Me: I mean it, I know it’s sudden so it’s okay if I can’t

Another message popped up.

Bucky: Don’t be stupid. Bucky: Come over and tell Steve what to get for dinner. Bucky: I don’t wanna. Me: Oh shit Me: That’s a high price, but I will do my best o7 Bucky: What’s the o7 mean? Me: It’s a salute! The o is a person’s head, then the 7 is the arm extending up and bent at the elbow Bucky: Hm.

“You are such a grandpa,” I snickered to myself, and refrained from texting that just because he was nice enough to share his home for the night. Also, that kind of thing required being in person to see his face. Slowly but surely he was loosening up around me, and I wondered what his reaction would be.

~

My trip over was spent dutifully researching everything within close walking distance of Steve’s place, and sorting them based on menus that offered good but also safe stuff, in case Bucky wasn’t in an adventurous mood.

I had five options ready to go when I walked in the door and saw Bucky and Steve setting up plates and opening takeout containers.

I put my hands on my hips. “I thought you wanted help.”

“Steve thought of something,” Bucky said, brushing something off his hands and then frowning at the metal one as he tried to wipe something off it. He frowned deeper, then shook his head and blinked. “Bank it for later,” he said, and lifted his hand again.

I walked over and pulled his hand down to have a look. Food was smeared on it– and his other hand was the culprit, with a bigger spot of sauce. I grabbed a napkin from the table, wiped the mess off the metal, folded it, and handed it back to him for his other hand.

“Thanks,” he said and went about wiping himself down like he was removing a much bigger mess. I shrugged and left him to it to go greet our shared partner.

“Thank you for letting me take refuge,” I said and snuggled into Steve.

“Of course; how could I leave you to the horrors of no electricity or running water. How could anyone possibly survive that,” he said dryly, but his smile grew into a grin as he wrapped his arms around me.

“Har har,” I said and headbutted him gently. “How long do you think I would survive in the trenches?”

He stopped and thought about it. He then quickly turned to the counter and started dishing out food, then handed it to me just as fast, like I was about to starve. I rolled my eyes, but I took the food for the gesture it was.

I sat at the counter while Steve and Bucky stood and ate, even though Steve’s eyes were actively drooping while he tried to tell us funny stories about the briefing that had happened right after everything had settled. I noticed Steve didn’t talk about what the incident actually was, and I made a mental note to try and get it out of him later. It didn’t seem incredibly bad from how his tone was naturally fairly light, but him being this tired meant it hadn’t been an easy ordeal.

As soon as Bucky was done with his plate, he and Steve started sharing glances. Bucky shuffled in place for a moment, then forced himself to still. Steve sighed. “Bucky, I swear it’s fine,” Steve said, his voice suddenly very loud in what was surprisingly utter silence. I hadn’t noticed just how nosy I was trying to be.

“Is this about how Steve is falling asleep into his food?” I asked, bright and loud, because fuck it.

Steve looked at me with exasperation, and definitely on the verge of being cranky at me, but Bucky said, “Yes.”

I put my hand over Steve’s before he could get too cross. “I’m tired too,” I admitted, because I was– and if he got bitchy, I was going to be the same, and I didn’t want to do that when I was crashing in on them. Steve frowned but gave his fingers a half-hearted twitch. “You’ve had a longer day than either of us. Just get me some blankets before you go to bed.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and Bucky huffed. When I turned to ask Bucky what his problem was, I was faced with him looking stern with his arms crossed. “You’ll take the bed with Steve,” he said. Before I could protest, he added, “This is my place too and I help make the rules. So don’t even try it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“But you’re a guest, and I am one of the bosses of this apartment,” Bucky said.

I shut my mouth, and couldn’t help but scowl a little bit. But Steve made a noise, and when I looked at him again, he looked like he was trying not to lose his shit. He had his hand clamped over his mouth to help muffle the laughter. God but he must have been exhausted if he was cracking up this hard at something so little.

“S-sorry,” Steve said and he rubbed harshly at one of his eyes. “But I’ve never seen two people get into a fight over hospitality quite like this.”

“We’re not fighting,” Bucky said imperiously.

“We’re going to if you keep acting so fucking smug,” I said and glared at Bucky again.

He rolled his eyes and pointed at the bedroom. “Both of you to bed. Now. Before we actually get in a fight and I have to kick both your asses.”

I sulked, but Steve got up, and so did I. “At least establish a safeword before you start bossing me around like that,” I grumbled as I started to follow Steve.

“Nah,” Bucky said. “I’m not letting you tap out.”

It took me a moment to realize he got my reference easily. When I did, I froze, and then spun to face him. “What the hell have you been looking up?”

He kept his face flat, and pointed. “Bed. Now.”

I shook my fist at him, but bed did sound nice. “Thank you,” I said, far too sullen to be convincing, even though I did mean it. Mostly.

Steve burst out laughing. I tried to sleep on the floor out of spite, but he didn’t let me.

~

I woke with the feeling that something was off, and I lifted my head in time to see Bucky…pacing. I frowned and looked at Steve, wondering for a moment if I was still dreaming. But it was dark and the kind of relative quiet that could only exist in the very early morning hours, before even Mr. ‘Gotta stretch my legs’ was up and at ‘em.

“Hey,” I whispered lightly. Bucky jumped– like feet leaving the floor and everything– and I wasn’t sure who was more shocked when he looked at me, me or him.

There was a beat of awkward silence, and then he started to shrink in on himself. He took a step back. “Sorry…sorry, I–”

“Hey,” I said, before he could run away. He stopped, thankfully, because I got caught up in a yawn and practically snapped my jaw when I rushed through it to say, “Why don’t you stay?”

He froze. “What?” he asked, quiet and genuinely confused.

I leaned over to gently pat Steve’s other side. “Separated by a wall of boyfriend.” I stopped to fight another yawn and won. “No cross-contamination worries.”

“What?”

“I won’t give you cooties,” I said and patted the space again. Steve was shifting, so I didn’t speak again, but I tried to be inviting without being insistent. ‘Come on,’ I mouthed, and settled back down, in case Bucky would feel better without me watching

I waited. It was so silent I was worried he’d left, but then the bed shifted, and I breathed a sigh of relief and shut my eyes.

~

When I woke again, the sun was up.

And Steve was still in bed.

Not for the first time, I wondered if I was dreaming, but it was early yet (for me) and Steve had been run pretty ragged the day before. He also moved a little too smoothly…

“Did you get back into bed?” I asked, my voice cracking a little bit. I surreptitiously tried to look over Steve’s body, but I could tell Bucky was long gone without much lifting at all.

Steve turned, and faced me. He still looked sleepy when he smiled. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I had to stretch this morning, but after I came back and took a shower…I decided to take a page out of your book.”

“I am very wise in the ways of naps,” I said and snuggled closer to him.

He slipped his arm behind me. “Except for those times you complain about going down in the afternoon and sleeping for, quote, “five thousand years?’”

“I’m right today.” I pushed my face into his chest and shut my eyes. He did smell nice, and the way he immediately relaxed helped me fall right back into a doze.

It was a hazy amount of time later that the sound of knocking close by made me jerk awake, but when I saw Bucky lounging against the doorway my heart stopped trying to beat out of my chest. Steve started to stretch, and I flumped back down into my pillow.

“Are you two gonna sleep all day?” Bucky drawled, arms crossed.

“Sorry, is it your shift with the boyfriend?” I grumbled and rubbed my face.

Bucky snorted. “I don’t need a shift,” he said and walked over to the bed. I braced myself for him forcibly upending us out, but he actually…got in, and snuggled up on Steve’s other side. Bucky still wasn’t capable of doing anything less than a murder stare, but it was still kind of cute, even if he did look like he was about to make my skin a literal suit even while resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder. I briefly wondered if such a supreme bitchface could be taught, but in the instant I blinked, he was back up and standing behind Steve’s side of the bed. “Get up ya lazy slugs.”

“Oh my god you are such a grandpa,” I groaned and turned over, taking the blanket with me.

Alas, Steve was not on my side, and he got out of bed, gave Bucky a quick kiss, and disappeared out of the room. I lay there for a moment, orienting myself. I was going to get up, really, I just needed a second. Or two.

A hand outstretched by my face. I blinked, but Bucky didn’t rip me out of bed– he waited, and when I gave him my hand he helped me up, like an actual gentleman. He also, however, gave me a funny look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked. Oh, so apparently the funny look was mine, first.

“Nothing. That was nice; thanks,” I said and stretched a little. He still looked annoyed though, and I had been completely sincere, so I asked, “What?”

“What did you expect me to do?” he asked. “It’s not like I’m gonna throw you through the wall.”

“Oh, I know,” I said. “But if Steve was helping me out of bed, he would have been a pest about it.”

Bucky looked even more annoyed. “But you’re his girl.”

I tilted my head. “If he treated me like tempered glass, I wouldn’t be,” I said. Bucky frowned. “Hey– no, I’m sorry; it was a joke.” I opened my arms and dropped them. Crashing in on his home and putting him in a bad mood– I was the worst houseguest ever. “Told you I was a bitch,” I said, trying for lightness again.

Bucky shook his head, and left the room. I stood there for a few moments, letting the disappointment wash over me, before I walked out to sit at the kitchen counter. Bucky wasn’t there, of course, and a full plate of food was sat in front of the empty seat next to Steve. Steve was halfway through his meal, and when I sat down, he put his hand at my back and rubbed comforting circles.

“How do you put up with me so well?” I asked, not even able to pretend I was joking.

“I know you,” he said and leaned over to kiss my head. “He’ll be fine. Now eat before your food gets any colder.”

I ate. It was good, even though I couldn’t really taste it. It probably served me right.

Some hours later, I was sitting with Steve on the couch and thinking about going home, when Bucky returned. He entered the place like nothing was wrong, no stiff or uncertain movements, so I actually started to relax. Maybe he wasn’t mad or carrying a grudge or–

I barely heard something just before Steve moved, shoving me back against the couch to get in front of me. I felt momentarily bewildered as to why when I saw him holding onto a bag of…something. It looked like snack food.

And I realized Bucky must have tried to chuck it at my head at the speed of fucking light. Okay, maybe a little grudge then. “Dude, what the fuck?” I asked Bucky, while Steve’s face said as much the same.

Bucky, however, looked smug. Before I could ask, again, what the fuck, he shrugged off his jacket, said, “I knew he wouldn’t let that hit you,” and sauntered off to the bathroom.

Steve and I were both silent at first. When all of that settled in my head, I grabbed the bag. “DICK!” I yelled at Bucky just as the shower started, but I cracked open the bag and offered Steve the first handful.

“Why are you smiling?” Steve asked warily, but he took the offer and dug around.

“Because that means we’re good,” I said.

“You two are so weird,” he muttered.

I turned my head and stared at him. “And you’re dating both of us,” I said. “So what does that make you?”

He opened his eyes wider. “The luckiest man alive?”

I kept staring at him, and staring at him, until his faced cracked and he started laughing, and I was justified in taking a pillow and smacking him with it. Dicks, the both of them. I probably deserved that.

I leaned my head against Steve’s shoulder. Lucky me.

~

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[fanfic-scribbles]

Second Helpings Chapter 5

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. And a boyfriend. Integrating two asocial partners sounds difficult, but it might be easier than anyone thinks.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader; Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes; eventual Steve/Bucky/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 5: Test Case Scenario

Chapter Summary: Helping someone discover new things (or things new-to-them) is a love language. Or at least, a ‘like’ language. Progress is progress.

Chapter Word Count: 3187

A/N: Bucky and Reader at this point are becoming friends but also being a jerk is a love language in this circle. Bisexual on bisexual violence <3

~

For all the ways it could possibly go south, Bucky was surprisingly open to trying new places to eat. Within certain parameters of course– it couldn’t be above a certain level of busy, and where he needed to sit was limited to specific areas based on sightlines and exits, but once all that was taken care of, he was actually pretty relaxed. So the three of us were out again, this time at a sandwich shop. Steve had ordered a meat-loaded monstrosity, and Bucky had stared intently at the menu for about thirty seconds before he frowned and ordered the same thing Steve had.

I tried not to psycho-analyze him, because he was probably beyond a school of psychiatrists, and I was not about to throw stones out of my spiderweb-cracked glass house, but I’d been hanging out with the two of them often enough that I noticed Bucky did that a lot. Unless something caught his eye relatively quickly, he’d just order whatever Steve did. Steve was boring enough that Bucky never seemed dissatisfied, but sometimes he looked at what I (or anyone else close enough) had ordered with some curiosity. Like now.

“Want to try a piece?” I asked. “I can cut this last little bite in half.”

Bucky shook his head and looked down. I shrugged and ate the rest of it, and turned my attention to Steve, who was smiling at me. The sandwich had been pretty spicy, and my mouth and lips felt pleasantly hot still, so when he leaned closer, safely hidden in our little corner table in the relatively quiet off-hour, I couldn’t help but grin as I leaned in to meet him.

About an inch away, he suddenly realized his impending mistake and held me back. “Wait– no!”

I tried so hard to get to him, but I had no chance. “Spicy kisses! Spicy kisses!”

“No! No spicy kisses,” Steve said, but he laughed even as he fended me off. “Have you been drinking hot sauce? I can smell it from here.”

“Hhhhhhhow dare you,” I said, trying to breathe on him on the first word so hard I lost my breath. I stopped pushing at him and folded my arms as I sat back. “I didn’t love the sandwich, but the jalapenos were still good.”

“Did they double layer them?”

“Nah, the spread was spicy too. It was all right.” I noticed Bucky was staring at me, and I looked right back at him. “What?”

He cracked a small smile, and dragged one of his French fries around the plate. “You are so weird.”

I made my eyes as big as I could and clasped my hands together under my chin. “Thank you,” I said like it was the sweetest thing in the universe. I then got a fry to the face. I picked it up and ate it. “Yum.”

“Asshole,” he said, but he still had a little smile.

“Do you like hot sauce?” I asked.

He turned blank. His ‘thinking’ face, I assumed, because it came out fairly often and never seemed bad, unless he immediately followed it by leaving. Right now, he just sat and mulled the question over. “I…don’t know,” he said and squinted suspiciously at the condiments.

“It’s okay; Steve’s got no taste,” I said and took a ketchup packet, a hot chili sauce packet, and mixed the contents together.

“Gross,” Steve muttered. I rolled my eyes. Mr. No-I-Don’t-Need-Anything-To-Go-With-My-Aioli could shove the hypocrisy.

I pushed the very basic spicy ketchup towards Bucky, and nodded at his fries. “Just try one,” I said. “You’ve got a nice big soda to wash it down with if you don’t like it, but it’s good.” I snaked a fry bit, dipped it, and ate it just to show him it wasn’t poison.

Bucky stared at it for a few seconds, looked at me to make sure I wasn’t dying (and I strongly resisted the urge to fake poison because I was still figuring out what his buttons were, even though it would have been so funny), and tentatively dipped a tiny corner of his fry into it. He chewed way longer than was necessary, waited, then dragged a full fry through it and ate the whole thing.

Bucky looked at Steve. “Wimp,” he said.

“Hey!” Steve said but I could barely hear him over my own laughter. The experiment was a success, as Bucky smugly continued eating his fries with his new ketchup concoction.

Amused and dodging Steve’s half-hearted attempts to take a swipe at me, my mind started to wander. I’d gotten Steve into some new things. What else did Bucky have yet to experience?

~

Food was– well, not safe, but probably the easiest thing to be adventurous with. It felt a little silly in some ways– Bucky had listed off at least ten countries as some of the places he explored while he was off finding himself– but also, Bucky was a guy who, at least at this point in his life, only lived on the bare minimum, so how much had he explored really?

Today I had a bag of candy while I was hanging out with Steve. Steve had had his own bag, a big one at that– and had devoured about all of it as soon as he sat down. Tony could joke about Werther’s all he wanted, but I didn’t know anybody who could put away peach rings like Steve did.

Bucky sauntered in just after the sun had gone down, paused only a moment in the connection point where he could have easily gone for the bedroom, and chose to come in and sink into a chair across from the couch. Willingly spending time with me around– someday I was going to stop being surprised by that, but for now, I’d take the compliment.

“Hey Buck,” Steve said with a soft smile. “How was the time out?”

Bucky shrugged, and glanced at me. I held up my candy assortment, and picked one out. “Want some candy?”

He stared at the piece in my hand. And then blinked several times. Then he scrunched his nose. “Why’s it look like that?”

I almost made a smart comment about how he had been in the world for a while, surely he had seen candy in passing, but then I thought– I didn’t actually know that, I didn’t know what it meant to put your brain back together and what you did and did not notice or remember, so I stowed the sarcasm for the moment. “You’ve never had blue raspberry?” I held the piece and the bag closer towards him. “This is a travesty that must be rectified.”

Bucky looked at the itty-bitty little piece of totally unthreatening candy and grimaced. “I think anything calling itself “blue raspberry” is probably the real travesty,” he muttered.

I couldn’t actually argue that. “Are you sure you don’t want to try one?” I asked. He hesitated, but after several seconds, shook his head. “Okay,” I said, and ate the piece. “If you change your mind, let me know before the bag is gone.”

“What if I want one after the bag is gone?”

“I could try and feed you like a baby bird, but I don’t think any of us would enjoy that.”

He crinkled his nose, but his lips turned up with it. “Gross.”

I laughed and almost threw a candy at him– but thought better of it and popped it into my mouth. Steve snorted, and I leaned back and dangled a piece of candy next to him. He recoiled like it was radioactive.

“Wanna be adventurous?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“No,” he said, and even scooted away.

Bucky was by my shoulder in a second. He hesitated, but held his hand out. I tried to stifle my smile, but I placed the one single tiny piece of candy in his massive metal paw, and after several seconds he still didn’t budge.

“Hey, was cough syrup still laced with cocaine when you two were kids?” I asked, filled my hand with candy, and put all of it into my mouth.

Bucky gave me a glare, then lightened up just in time to say, completely deadpan, “I don’t remember,” before tossing it back into his mouth.

I cackled so hard I started choking and thus completely missed his reaction, while Steve tried to figure out how to pound on my back without breaking it.

~

“Hey losers,” I said, not looking up from my game as the door opened and two familiar treads came in and stopped at the entry. Bucky grumbled something under his breath and, while I couldn’t hear it, I could imagine what it was. “Steve texted me so calm down mother.”

“Still should check,” he grumped.

Suddenly a package was tossed in my lap. I jerked back– thankfully after I had escaped virtual death, so I was able to pause and investigate. It looked like a bag of mixed candies, with a name I had never heard of. I looked up and Bucky was standing nearby, looking around the room.

“They’re citrus,” Bucky mumbled, keeping his eyes away from me as he sat down in the chair.

“Neat. Thanks!” I said, and as soon as the game stopped saving, I exited out for the main TV menu. Steve came back from the kitchen with several drinks, handing one off to Bucky and then one he slipped into my lap before he moved to sit on my other side. I popped the tab. “Hey, Bucky– do you like music?”

He grimaced. “Some, I guess,” he said nonchalantly. “Some of it’s just a lot of…noise.”

“Hm,” I said as I took a sip from my drink.

Bucky suddenly had eyes on me like he was a hawk. It was kind of freaky, but I didn’t flinch. “What,” he said flatly.

“What?” I asked. I picked up the remote and turned my head towards the TV. “You guys have anything you want to watch?”

Bucky kept staring at me, I could feel it. Unfortunately for him, it only made me want to smile so big. Steve did, in fact, smile. He also rolled his eyes and stole the remote right out of my hand. “Knock it off Buck,” he said as he started navigating menus like a man on a mission. “You’re only encouraging her.”

“Shush; let him fuel my mischief,” I said and snuggled in next to him.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but when I peeked again, he looked relaxed. “Your nonsense, more like,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Same diff,” I said, and chucked one of the candies at him.

Over the next few days, I made three new playlists that I then shared selectively with Steve. The first one was “B – Calm, Easy, Quiet”; the second was made after a little hemming and hawing and titled, “B – All the Noise (To Drown Out Thoughts)”. The third one was made without any hesitation, but shared with a little– “B – If He Has A Sense of Humor”.

All of them were a mess of genres and traversed across multiple eras. The first was a collection of slower, quieter, deeper songs. The second was full of frenetic, screaming, and otherwise super messy songs that might be the exact thing he had grimaced about…but also might come in handy. You never knew who needed a little metalcore, and sometimes neither did they. The third was just me being a little shit. Who knew so many oldies were about memories? I threw in a few about how swell fellas are too. For the romantic in him.

Bucky: You think you’re funny do you

I sent back a lot of emojis full of obnoxious smiley faces, flowers, suns, and kissy faces. A few days later, he sent me a link to a playlist. I listened dutifully to the whole thing, and every single song was just a bunch of machine grinding noises masquerading as EDM.

My boyfriend had great taste in men, I had to admit.

~

“Hey, look at this,” I said to Steve as soon as I got inside his apartment. He backed away, giving me room to set my bag on the counter, and belatedly I realized he had been coming to greet me with a hug. “Oh, hi,” I said and kissed him quick before turning back to my goodies. “Hey– check this out.”

“Should I be afraid of how excited you are, or excited too?” he asked, slipping one arm around me as he leaned in to look.

“You can be both,” I said and pulled two packages out of the bag. They were gift sets, one an assortment of tiny shampoo bottles, and the other an assortment of tiny liquid soaps. Steve squinted at them, which was not unfounded– the packaging was very bright pink and more geared for the girliest teenager you knew. However.

“Why?” he asked, tone loaded with suspicion, and gave me a stare to match. Maybe he was spending a little too much time with Bucky. Normally I got at least a minute to lead in to my shenanigans.

“I remembered you have that stupid interview in a few days,” I said, and indeed, he winced at the mention. Some right-wing douchebag masquerading as a “centrist”. What else was new. “So I got you these.”

He kept looking at me, even though his lips twitched a little. “Still doesn’t explain.”

Because I was trying to find a suitably dramatic and hilarious way to explain it, but all I could do was shrug. “Well, I know you hate that guy, and I found out he has some thing about men smelling ‘feminine’ or whatever,” I said. “Apparently he went off on it for like, a half-hour on some trash alpha-male podcast or something, so this–” I held up the package of shampoos, “Is gonna make your hair smell so girly.”

He definitely looked more intrigued– just as I knew he would. “I got the soaps just in case– I know you’re fussier about that, but they’re all super frou-frou, so if you can stand the smell, it’s a really easy way to get on his nerves right from the get-go, before even shaking hands.”

I set the package back down and waited for, at the very least, faint praise for my thoughtfulness. But when Steve looked at me, it was with that sort of melting expression of adoration that made me so soft, but seemed way too much for something this small. Poor thing must have been more stressed about this stupid interview than he was willing to say. “I love you,” he said earnestly.

“I know.” I gave him a quick kiss. “And I love you too.” But when I went back to the bag, I hesitated.

“What else?” Steve asked and put his chin on my shoulder. “If you want to dress me, we’ll have to discuss that a little bit more.”

“You are a grown-ass man who can dress himself.” I played with the bag handle. “How’s Bucky with scents and stuff?”

Steve chuckled and kissed the side of my head. “He mostly sticks with the basics. What’d you get him now?”

“Well, for one I thought he might like to try some of those.” I gestured at the stuff I gave Steve. “He isn’t super macho tough guy, and he might genuinely like them. But I also got…” I pulled out three more gift sets. Shampoo, soap, and also lotion, because fuck it, why not. “He doesn’t indulge on his own. But I don’t want to be pushy, you know? I just think…”

“You’re overthinking,” he said, quiet but firm. “They’re great. I’ll tell Bucky you got them for me to try and that I’d appreciate the help in working through them.”

“You don’t have to lie.” I leaned back into him. “He’ll see right through you anyways.”

“Yeah.” He kissed me. “But it’s the thought that counts.”

~

We never talked about it. I had no idea if he even bothered to try the soaps, but that wasn’t really the point. They were for him, not for me, and if he liked them, great, he could talk to Steve about it to get more, and if not, no harm done.

We were out again, at a pizza place this time, late one night. Or early in the morning– I wasn’t really paying attention to the clock anymore. Bucky was quieter than usual, but he hadn’t ditched us yet, which I took for a good sign, even if I did want to kick Steve under the table for the way his eyebrows kept creasing. I didn’t know what was going on with them, but if they didn’t want to bring it up, then I was perfectly happy to let it rest. Bucky and I were friendly enough, I thought, but I was nowhere near nosing in to all his various moods.

So while I wasn’t as obnoxious as I could be, I still behaved like myself. I ordered all the food while Steve was distracted, and made sure Bucky had a lot of fun things to try, with a few safe standbys just in case. He picked at his food quite a bit, and every time he finished eating a slice he would wait until Steve gave him another one– until Steve got really into telling a story about Clint, and Bucky waited and waited and waited, his eyes flicking towards the remaining food. Steve didn’t notice quick enough, so I took a chance and put a slice on Bucky’s plate, not sure if he would take it from me or not. But Bucky relaxed his shoulders, gave me a short nod, and started eating again while listening to Steve talk.

He ate quickly enough that I was able to slip him three more slices without Steve noticing, all of them different. The fourth one though, Bucky put his hand out. “Not that one,” he said, making Steve stop, blink, and look around in confusion.

“You’ve had it before?” I asked and started sifting through the other pizza boxes. Most of them were empty– a hazard of eating out with two men who could chow through food in ways even competitive eaters could only dream of.

“I’ve tried some things without you,” Bucky muttered.

It didn’t sound like a dig, but it did make me pause. “You don’t have to try everything I give you,” I said.

“I know,” Bucky said. “But I…like it.” He frowned and looked focused in a way that let me know there was something else there. But he shook his head. I was curious, but didn’t press. Hopefully he’d tell me someday. “And you think of things sometimes Steve doesn’t.”

“So it’s okay to keep doing?” I said. Bucky nodded. I grinned. “Excellent.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. He looked at Steve, and then at me. “Maybe I take it back,” he said cautiously.

“Too late!” I said and picked up a piece of pizza. He’d drop that ‘maybe’ eventually, but for now, I wondered what it would take.

~

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[fanfic-scribbles]

Second Helpings Chapter 4

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. And a boyfriend. Integrating two asocial partners sounds difficult, but it might be easier than anyone thinks.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader; Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes; eventual Steve/Bucky/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 4: Time and Space Apart

Chapter Summary: There is no quick fix for pain and healing, it just takes time. So does getting used to new people. Time is stupid.

Chapter Word Count: 3027

A/N: I keep talking about cats. No plans for Alpine in this story as of this moment, I’m afraid, so it’s not foreshadowing; I just love cats and miss having them so they’ll probably keep showing up. And because cat-guy!Bucky is still one of my favorite things, even if I don’t give him one of his own.

Also, just a note: as things continue to be Not Great, now with some additional health issues, I have to realize sometimes even hitting my leisurely once-a-month posting schedule is not always going to be feasible, so I’m just going to say this now: while I will keep trying to hit my monthly goal, if you see I haven't posted in over a month or two, fear not, because I am literally writing on this story every day. Seriously: every day, and I have done so ever since I started posting Lunch Buddy chapter 1, even on the days when all I can manage is a single sentence. *And* as I have so much backlogged ideas for this fic I won’t run out for years to come, this story has far too much to ever be abandoned. Now that you know, I’m probably going to stop mentioning delayed updates and this is the last you’ll hear of it; I’ll just roll in with a chapter whenever I have it. Thanks for bearing with me <3 Now on with the good stuff.

~

It was a perfectly average Wednesday. Work had been so tedious I had counted down every ten minutes of the last two hours. My dinner plans mostly consisted of me getting off the couch and making mac and cheese from the box because I was feeling too cheap to order out and too tired for anything else. After that, I was going to veg out until bedtime. Wednesday: too far from the despair of Monday, too far from the excitement of Friday. The ultimate mid-tier of weekdays. Boring. Predictable.

Never trust a Wednesday.

The only hint I had that something was amiss came after eight, when someone knocked rapidly several times. I heard Steve’s voice sort of half-heartedly call to me, but he wasn’t loud enough that I could understand what he said. It didn’t strike me oddly at first; he was already getting his keys out, and I had my motivation to get up and stretch.

What got my actual attention was how he stormed into the apartment. To be fair, it wasn’t for long– he caught himself before he even fully made it to the living room– but that was at least five strong steps that had made me jump and immediately try to assess the danger. But Steve just looked pissed, in a non-urgent way, and Bucky slunk in behind him, crouched in on himself like a teenager in trouble.

“Hey sweetheart,” Steve said with a smile so strained it looked more like cracked glass.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I killed Stark’s parents,” Bucky muttered.

“Y-yeah…” I said. It probably wasn’t the best response to a murder confession, but we all already knew that. Right? Tony knew that. …Or was I misremembering? “Tony, he– he already knew– didn’t he already–?!”

“He knew, he knew; it just…came to a head,” Steve said and sighed. He held his head in his hands, and the adrenaline slowly left my system.

“Ah.” And they needed to get the hell out of that conversation, so Steve had probably walked, and Bucky had followed behind, and…here they were. Made sense. What kind of damage control could I even do with this, though?

“I’m sorry to– barge in,” Steve said, suddenly sounding hesitant. “I just…I just wanted to…”

He tensed up, his aggravation getting the best of him, and Bucky tensed, growing tighter, which made me tense, and so round and round–

“Hey Bucky,” I said. “Are you okay if Steve and I step into my room for a sec?”

Bucky actually nodded, but Steve frowned, and flicked his eyes to me. “Why?” Steve asked, growing defensive already.

Great. With how wound up he was I could already foresee the argument we were going to have, where I pointed out how upset he was, and he argued against it, and honestly that shit was boring and I had better things to do. Even on a stupid Wednesday. “Okay, actually, Bucky, there’s a good donut shop at the end of the next block.” I gave him some money and told him my order. “No rush; sit and have some coffee. I hear even the decaf is good.”

Steve said my name with tense, restrained anger. “Bucky, you don’t have to go–”

“I want to.” Bucky’s eyes darted and he actually fidgeted. “Can I?”

Some of the hot air left Steve and he slumped. “Yeah Bucky, of course.”

“Steve likes the maple bars and the strawberry jelly filled,” I said. Bucky nodded sharply, once, then turned to go. He stopped, looked at me, then apparently thought again and took off so swiftly it was like the door was closing on a ghost.

I went over to shut and lock it completely, and took a moment before turning back to Steve. He looked like some of the hot air had left him, though, and he pushed his hands back over his face and through his hair.

“Long day?” I asked as I sauntered over to him.

He made a sound that honestly took me a moment to decipher– like a moan, a hiss, and a laugh, that also maybe sounded like a cough? I stared at him, and he turned a little red. He tried for a smile, but even embarrassment didn’t fully touch him. He shook his head. “I’m…stupid,” he said, still terse.

“You can be stupid with me. I’ll only be a little judgmental.” I leaned on the counter. “Was it something you said? Because I’m an expert on saying stupid shit I don’t mean.”

“Thankfully I didn’t say anything like that,” he said, obviously distracted because normally he would push back when I was overly negative with myself. “I didn’t say…anything. I didn’t say anything at all, and I hate it. Bucky just had to sit and listen and take it and it–…it…”

I opened my arms, just in case, and Steve paused only a second before taking the offer for all that he could, folding down to fit better. It was hard to hold him in the way he needed, but I did my damndest, and he made himself a pretzel, and, well, it mostly worked. I kissed his head, and he took a few deep breaths.

“You’re wound up so tight Steve,” I murmured, trying to be as gentle as possible. “Did something bigger happen?”

He shook his head. I had to discern the motion by feeling, but it was easy enough when he was pressed so close against my body. After a few moments he gently pulled against me, and I let him go. He wandered over to the couch and sat down, heavily but not break-the-couch heavily, and I took a seat next to him. He was still settling, so I started pulling my fingers through his hair in gentle, slow motions.

“It’s the…balance of watching what I say.” He looked down. “But also feeling like I’m not sticking up for Bucky like I should. Like I want to. Because we–…because there’s no winning this fight.” He swallowed and shook his head. “It doesn’t feel fair, to just stand by and watch Bucky have to deal with this, but standing up to Tony was only going to make it all worse, and I don’t– Bucky made me stand back, and I don’t know if it’s because he knows it’ll just get worse, or he thinks he deserves it.”

If I knew Bucky it could have been a tiny bit column a and massively column b. Or all column b. Like Steve, the man was a born martyr. “I don’t think Tony means it,” I said softly.

“I know he doesn’t,” Steve said, but tilted his head slightly. “Mostly. The mostly that matters. He just can’t get at anyone who actually is responsible.” He waved a hand, and let it fall in my lap. I took it with my free hand, and wrapped my fingers around. He reciprocated. “Story of our lives, right now.”

“Yeah,” I said. Because a lot of those people probably died comfortable and at peace in their beds and there wasn’t anything any of us could do about it. Life wasn’t about getting what you deserved; most of the time it was just about getting on. “Well, you can stand down and relax for now. If you need to get to him, Bucky is just down the street, and he is more than capable of calling you for help if he needs it. But right now, he’s sitting with a cup of coffee and a donut. Probably one with sprinkles.” I ran my fingers through Steve’s hair again. “Does he like sprinkle donuts? He looks like he’d like sprinkle donuts.”

“He looks at them, but he always ends up getting plain glazed,” Steve said. He pressed his head to my shoulder. “I’m sorry I was a jerk.”

“Only a little bit of one. I’m honestly disappointed in you; you could be so much worse.”

He let out an attempt at a laugh. “Only to other people though, I assume?”

“Well, preferably.”

Steve didn’t say anything, and I let the silence go without comment. There was really nothing else either of us could say or do. Tony’s issues and Bucky’s issues…at best, those would iron out in time. At worst, neither of us were going to be able to do anything meaningful about it, aside from ‘be there’ and ‘try not to stick our feet in our mouths.’

“Hmf.” Steve’s vocalization had some guttural depth to it, and that was that. For a while.

Tentative knocks came at the door. Steve lifted his head from my shoulder and I stood and went to let Bucky in. He hesitated in the doorway, and looked around until he saw Steve. He actually frowned deeper then– I didn’t know why, Steve was just getting up from the couch and coming behind me– and Bucky quickly switched to looking at me.

“It’s all good,” I said and stepped back to let him in.

“Did you even check?” Bucky asked, already starting to drop his jacket around the bag he held.

“I knew it was you.” I held out my hands and flexed my fingers repeatedly for the bag. “Gimme.”

He let out a sigh that sounded pretty annoyed, but when I stopped and looked at him, he shook his head. “Always check,” he said, sternness melting away too fast for him to be actually mad, at least.

“You and Steve are such worrywarts. I promise, if it wasn’t you, Steve wasn’t gonna let me get the door,” I said, snatching the bag and taking it to the counter.

“It’s true,” Steve said. “I heard you grumble down the hall.”

“This lady almost crashed into me. Didn’t even apologize,” Bucky grumbled.

“Hey,” I said as I divvied up the goods for me and Steve. “Steve and I were discussing favorite donuts. Which ones did you get today?”

“Um…” Bucky ducked his head, suddenly shy. “It had strawberry frosting. And sprinkles.”

I looked at Steve. “I told you,” I said. “He is a man of culture and refinement. Of course he likes sprinkles.”

Bucky snorted harshly. “I’m definitely not all that. Barely a man at all.”

Steve frowned. I slid him a donut, and turned to Bucky with my choice in hand. “Well, it’s a new century and you don’t have to be a man if you’re not feeling it,” I said. “Unfortunately, though, we are all very corporeal, so you have to be something. A human of culture and refinement, then, because sprinkles are a sign of good taste. That’s science.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say. Maybe I came off too flippant, maybe I just should have stopped before I started, but Bucky went quiet and didn’t engage any more. He didn’t storm out, though, and Steve rubbed my shoulder and started talking about nothing in particular, just using words to lightly fill the air, until the donuts were gone and both he and Bucky looked worn out.

“Do you guys wanna stay here tonight?” I asked, glancing at the clock and suddenly feeling like I had been through hell, rather than just puttering around a mildly discomfiting weekday.

“No, we’ll go home tonight.” Steve then looked at Bucky, who stared straight ahead for several seconds, before giving Steve a quick, sharp nod. Steve let out a sigh of relief, but in an instant he was turned towards me, arms out, and I returned the hug almost as tightly as he gave it. “Thanks for letting us…”

“Any time.” I pulled my head out of Steve’s shoulder to look at Bucky. He ducked away, but I kept my eyes on him when I said. “Seriously.” I then took the pressure off him and looked at Steve. “I mean it.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, and slipped me a quick kiss before he pulled away, they gathered themselves together, and left none the better than when they first arrived. Calmer, more tired, but…

Fucking Wednesday.

~

Thursday wasn’t much better, but at least it was closer to Friday. However, when I stepped inside– when I stepped inside my apartment where I was the one paying rent and ostensibly owning the space– Bucky was already there.

“Are you okay?” I said, biting back any irritation. I did tell him ‘any time;’ it was probably my fault for not telling him to knock. We could go over that. Later, after I found out what was wrong. I looked around to double-check, but there was no Steve to be found or heard. Bucky walked up to me, silent and stoic, but not especially threatening, so I waited until he was right in front of me. He stood there for a few seconds, saying nothing. And several more seconds.

“Well, while you find your words…” I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance as I walked around him and started unpacking my bag.

Another few seconds passed before I heard him make some sort of disgruntled noise. “You should be afraid of me.”

I held back a sigh and turned to face him. So we were doing this now, huh. I would rather have not done it at all– I could not have properly expressed how not good I was at this sort of thing at any normal time, let alone when it involved a man turned into a living weapon for decades and then forced back to consciousness just in time to bear the weight of all the blood…

Well, I certainly wasn’t going to open with that last part, at least. He was still staring at me, and I was staring right back, trying to look more like I was doing intense calculations and less like my brain was still making dial-up sounds.

At last, my two brain cells made a single fuzzy connection that could maybe download a low-res picture over the course of ten minutes. “I don’t think I should be,” I said.

“You know some of what I’ve done.” He flexed his metal fist. “Some of what I’m capable of.” He looked at me again, this time with eyes narrowed and mouth in a straight line. “Even a little bit should be enough.”

Yawning was probably a bridge too far. But please. “Steve could pop my head like a grape,” I said helpfully, in case Bucky had forgotten I regularly chose to physically tangle with a super soldier who sometimes got too excited and had to watch his own strength. “If Tony gets too hyper all he has to do is move his lasers the wrong way and I’m a goner. Same with Clint and his bow, honestly.”

Bucky scoffed. “They wouldn’t–”

“Sometimes I annoy Natasha on purpose just because I think it’s funny.”

That one, thankfully, stopped him. Stopped him to the point where he actually loosened his shoulders and stared with much less tough guy attitude. “What’s wrong with you,” he said, his eyes darting over me. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t really wanna know,” I said. “But she knows I do it and she hasn’t killed me yet. And if you go walking around New York and haven't so much as lightly strangled someone, I swear you have way more patience than I do.”

“Control,” he said. He looked down. “I have to.”

“I know you do,” I said. “We all know that. Even Steve. He wouldn’t let either of us around each other if you didn’t.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Bucky, I had to sit in on a stupid impromptu SHIELD meeting that Steve, man who would rather jump off the Empire State building than sit through one on his own, defended. I fucking know it.”

That seemed to snap him out of whatever self-pity woe-is-me Russian depression he was slipping into, and he looked at me. This time, he really looked at me, and seemed to, finally, understand. “They were afraid, weren’t they?” he asked. “That I’d come after you. Because of Steve.”

“Steve was worried about it too,” I said. He blinked. “He didn’t tell you?” I asked. “It was after you–…after your…big fight. Where he saw it was you.”

“When I tried to kill him.” Bucky pushed his hair back and gripped it tight.

“Nobody knew where your head was at,” I said. “And Steve was, admittedly, willing to risk a lot to get you back. But even he got on me about having a protection detail.”

Bucky stopped trying to pull all his hair from the roots. “Really?” he asked, and slowly put his hands back down. His hair looked a little wild now, but at least his eyes didn’t.

“Nobody’s going into this blindly, Bucky,” I said, trying to gentle a bit. “It’s all…a fucking mess. Everyone knows that. Steve’s happy not because he doesn’t know everything’s complicated to hell and filled with tragedy. He’s happy because he has you– for whatever definition of you that you want to fill in. Say what you want, but he wouldn’t know what to do with a you from back then. You're both broken and fucked up. But you’re not a killer anymore, Bucky. Not unless you want to be. And I’ll probably die by the claws of that bitchy bodega cat a few blocks over before you decide to come at me.”

He huffed a little laugh, then looked thoughtful. “The grey one, with the stripes?” He frowned. “I like that one.”

“You fucking would,” I muttered. “I swear to god it runs between my legs when I’m turning the aisle.”

“She wants to be pet.”

“She ate all the rats and now she wants to feast upon my corpse.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “You're impossible,” he muttered.

“Now you’re catching on,” I said, unable to keep from smiling at his exasperation. “Just think– I’ll help you build up your patience so you don’t pulverize anyone on the subway platform when they listen to their shitty phone speakers out loud.”

Bucky seemed to think about it. He then grimaced and admitted, “I might not feel guilty about those ones.”

I beamed, and leaned in closer. To his credit, he didn’t move away. “I think we’re going to get along great.”

~

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[fanfic-scribbles]

WiP Wednesday - Second Helpings Ch 4

I'm still here, still chug-chug-chugging along. I should be on track to post in early March but I'm still working on this upcoming chapter so...we'll see how 'early' that remains 🙃 I haven't done WIP Wednesday in a while, but I hope you enjoy the sneak peek, and I'll see you with the full thing (hopefully) soon <3

~

The only hint I had that something was amiss came after eight, when someone knocked rapidly several times. I heard Steve’s voice sort of half-heartedly call to me, but he wasn’t loud enough that I could understand what he said. It didn’t strike me oddly at first; he was already getting his keys out, and I had my motivation to get up and stretch.

What got me first was how he stormed into the apartment. To be fair, it wasn’t for long– he caught himself before he even fully made it to the living room. But that was at least five strong steps that had made me jump and immediately try to assess the danger. But Steve just looked pissed, and Bucky slunk in behind him, crouched in on himself like a teenager in trouble.

“Hey sweetheart,” Steve said with a smile so strained it looked more like cracked glass.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I killed Stark’s parents,” Bucky muttered.

“Y-yeah…” I said. It probably wasn’t the best response to a murder confession, but we all already knew that. Right? Tony knew that. …Or was I misremembering? “Tony, he– he already knew– didn’t he already–?!”

“He knew, he knew; it just…came to a head,” Steve said and sighed.

~

[fanfic-scribbles]

Second Helpings Chapter 3

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. And a boyfriend. Integrating two asocial partners sounds difficult, but it might be easier than anyone thinks.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader; Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes; eventual Steve/Bucky/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 3: Snow Fight

Chapter Summary: Weather is better when you have company to share it with. Or bitch about it to, but that’s basically the same thing.

Chapter Word Count: 3820

A/N: I have nitpicked at this chapter soooo much over the past week and a half it is time to set it free. Also, apologies, but I don’t think I’ll have an update for February; my life is a metaphorical trashfire right now and there is a bit too much going on that requires my focus. I love you all, I hope your January is going MUCH better than mine, and I will see you in March <3

~

Sometimes, snow was pretty. Annoying as all hell, but pretty.

However, annoying won out in the end. It was just one of those days, where my mood wasn’t bad per se, but I was tired, the roads were wet, the air was cold, and I had to do things. The worst combination, truly.

So when a message came through in the early afternoon, I was relieved to have a distraction.

Steve: Hey. What are you up to today?

I smiled at all the smiley faces he sent, in, I assumed, an attempt to annoy me. Joke was on him; he was cute, and not present to see me get all soft and stupid about it.

Me: Being a responsible adult and cursing the sky Steve: Are those related or separate complaints? Me: Yes Steve: Well Steve: Do you want to take a break and come over?

I took a moment to think through my current mood.

Me: Sure Me: I’d love a captive audience; bitching to no one doesn’t have the same satisfaction Steve: I’ll warm up my best eyeroll Steve: For solidarity

I smiled bigger.

Me: For now Me: Until I get VERY annoying Steve: I know you’ll love it just as much when I’m exasperated, if not even more so

It honestly made me a little mushy to have my partner know me so well.

~

All good feelings were gone in the wake of wet subway stairs, equally bitchy people on the sidewalk, and still. More. Snow.

Honestly with all the tread of the city it wasn’t like it was too hard to traverse; it was just so wet and mushy where we all walked and there was something about the texture that was starting to grate my nerves. Also, part of my leg had gotten splashed, and the longer I was partly wet, the more my mood tanked down, to the point where I almost reconsidered going home even just a few blocks away from my destination. Except, in a few blocks, I would be warm, inside, and muttering unspeakable curses while wrapped up in my boyfriend’s arms.

I wrapped my arms around myself, got a headstart on those curses, and trudged down the street. When I got close to Steve’s building, I actually saw him standing outside, his back turned to me. My mood lifted some, but just as I was about to call out to him, he turned his head to the side and walked behind the side of the building to…somewhere else.

Wasn’t that just the way.

It was too much energy to keep muttering, so I just tromped down the (clear, shoveled, unburdened, but still wet) sidewalk until I got to the point where Steve had been. I then turned down a different path that led me behind his building, which…was actually a nice little garden area and a few parking spaces that I hadn’t known existed. And the snow looked nice back here, piled prettily, with only some scattered slush. It was almost like walking into a pocket dimension.

Steve and Bucky were there, shovels in hand and looking at me. “Told ya I heard her,” Bucky said, and moved his shovel to the other side.

“Hey sweetheart,” Steve said, brightening as he turned more to face me. “I’m sorry; we weren’t going to be long so I left a note for you upstairs.”

Because he was out shoveling snow, probably for someone else, meanwhile I could barely manage being a self-sustaining adult with only the equivalent of a divine-sized slushy spilled over the city. Sometimes I wondered what he saw in me.

I walked up to him and let my head fall into his chest in a gentle bonk. Steve let out a little huff and rubbed my back with one hand, and I soaked in his touch until I felt rejuvenated enough to stand up straight again. Bucky was staring at me, though, so I asked him, “What?”

He squinted. “Is that why you always send cat stuff?”

I blinked. I tried to comprehend where that came from, but only came up with a 404. “What?”

He looked mildly impatient. “Because you’re like a cat. With the headbutting.”

Steve laughed. I glared at Bucky and drew out an exaggerated, “Fuck yooouuuu,” while showing him double middle fingers.

“Hmf. Sounds like what a cat would say,” he said, and moved to start shoveling.

“Cats don’t speak English,” I said.

“How do you know. Maybe they just don’t want to talk to you.”

I actually thought about that. “I’d respect that. I already get annoyed enough just by people talking to me.” I gave Bucky a side-eye. “Maybe they speak Russian. Are you covering for them?”

He stopped, and gave me a flat stare. He looked more like a cat, in my opinion. “Yes. Cats are Soviet spies.”

“I would say ‘knew it’ but the Soviet Union isn’t really a thing anymore.”

He scoffed. “That’s where your disbelief lies?”

“Cats will change sides for a hint of a treat. A neighbor’s cat got out once and I snagged her with just a spoonful of tuna.”

“So you’re a snitch.”

“And don’t you forget it,” I said with an overly haughty sniff and dramatic turn. I looked around. This was probably a nice sitting area in any other season, even what with sharing the space with parking. “Cool place. Why are you shoveling?”

“I offered to help out; the building owner is actually a really nice man,” Steve said, brandishing his shovel. “And Bucky’s helping. Do you want to help?”

“Only if there’s an incinerator and each bit of snow screams in pain when I throw it in.”

They stared at me.

I kicked my foot– accidentally breaking open an ice puddle, gross, and I had to shake off my boot. “I am not having a good snow day,” I admitted, tapping my toe on the bench leg to get the extra water off.

“Oh. Well, why don’t you go upstairs and get warmed up?” Steve leaned in and gave me a kiss. “We’ll be up when we’re done.”

“Hmm.” Being warm and inside did sound nice, but also a little weird. “Actually, I think I’d rather sit and make fun of you while you do manual labor; that sounds more fun.”

Steve grinned, turned, lifted his shovel with flourish, and slid it swiftly across the bench to catch almost all the snow on it, which he then lifted and dumped, before turning back to me– and topping it all off with a little bow gesturing to the now open seat.

It wasn’t my fault how big my smile was; he was so stupid, and he did it just because he knew I thought so. “You are such a fucking dork,” I said, but I took my (cold, wet, but mostly clean) seat.

“Don’t you fall for it,” Bucky said, but he was smiling a little too, so at least I wasn’t the only one being soft about our dweeb of a boyfriend. Honestly, Steve was lucky he was so cute. And I didn’t mean in the supersoldier way– he was so fucking sincere it melted me a little bit, and made it easy to sit and watch him and Bucky go about their self-appointed task.

Though when they started playfully shoving snow at each other, I leaned back to get away from the line of fire, and when a pile landed almost on my feet I let out a little yelp and was halfway up the bench before I even realized I’d started moving.

Someone snorted and I glared hard at the both of them. Bucky turned away, already growing a smile, while Steve at least tried to clamp down on his. “Sorry sweetheart,” he said, and tried for something sweeter than I knew was pulling at his lips.

“I thought you were trying to help by shoveling.” But his charm was working on me, dammit, and I slumped back in my seat with arms crossed.

Steve grinned broadly, and I rolled my eyes and made a shooing motion. “The faster you scoop, the faster we all get upstairs and get warm.”

“We might go faster if you helped,” Bucky muttered and gave me a look with raised eyebrows.

“Oh you sweet summer child,” I said, at the same time Steve barked a laugh. I scowled at him deeper and he suddenly found it easier to start shoveling the snow again. To their credit, it seemed mostly done, and nicely at that. They had big piles that actually still resembled decent snow– maybe because nobody had been out here tromping through it. Either way, the walkway was clear and there were approximations of snowbanks that made it look quite–

–Something smashed against my shoulder and I yelped and jumped up before realizing it was just harmless, not-entirely-gross snow.

“Do you always make that noise?” Bucky asked, mystified but amused, as my traitorous, snow-throwing boyfriend bent over in half with laughter.

I inhaled deeply and opened my mouth…and thought better of my tactics when I caught sight of the snow-covered bench Steve stood right next to. I could get mad. Or…I could get even.

I put one hand over where the snowball hit me, then put the back of my other hand to my forehead and staggered over to him. “Woe! Betrayed by my beloved!” I fell into his arms and he was too busy being amused by my (amazing) performance to notice that while I held onto him with one arm, I slipped the other behind him to grab a handful of snow. “Might I have one last kiss before I slip into an endless sleep?”

“So your afternoon nap?” he chuckled.

“Basically,” I said normally, and waited until he was kissing me to shove snow down the back of his shirt. I felt like I barely got any in there, I was so hasty, but he yelped as he broke away and I laughed madly, even as he let go and I barely caught myself on the bench. The dance Steve did to get the snow out was so worth it, and Bucky’s roaring laugh made it even better.

“I shoulda known you’d do me wrong,” Steve said, grinning at me with a dangerous glint in his eyes. I scrambled to my feet and started backing up.

“You betrayed me first! This was well-earned payback!” I insisted even as he bore down on me. “Now we’re eve– Steve…Steeeeeve!”

I tried to run but, well, even if I wasn’t laughably out of shape, he was all super soldier and Captain America and built like a brick wall and whatnot; he grabbed me and tossed me into one of the larger piles of snow he and Bucky had collected. It was fucking cold and I retaliated by grabbing handfuls of snow and flinging them at him. He tried to cover himself but I kept up my assault with one hand until I got enough snow to make an actual snowball, quickly formed it, and chucked it at his head.

It actually hit. I threw up my arms in a well-earned celebratory gesture, and tried to wiggle out of the snow pile without letting any slip under my clothes. I was not entirely successful– though when Steve suddenly loomed over me, I had a bigger issue to worry about.

I scowled up at him. He grinned big and bright.

Then he grabbed me again and threw me over his shoulder. I hit his back, knowing it wouldn’t even phase him. “Steve, you goddamn caveman; put me down!”

“Eventually,” he replied cheerfully.

Bucky was still laughing to himself as he collected the shovels. Curiously, he pulled down his hat and pulled up on his scarf. When he saw me looking, he shook his head, and I let it be. I looked around, but no one else was out here, so I slumped and resigned myself to my fate as Steve walked me inside. It was mildly uncomfortable, but not having to walk was ultimately a plus. “If you drop me, I’m kicking you out of your own apartment,” I said, but I was actually too tired to put much heat into it. Morning errands and mid-day dramatics were, apparently, enough to do me in.

“I would never,” Steve said, chuckling, but he stopped and set me down. I looked up at all the stairs and sighed, but when I turned back to him, he gave me a kiss. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just running around too much this morning.” I realized it was oddly quiet and looked around. Bucky was nowhere to be seen. “We lost your–”

“He’s just putting the shovels away,” Steve said. He held his hand to me. “Do you actually want me to carry you, or…?”

“Too bumpy,” I admitted, because I was not too proud for a caveman carry when faced with stairs, but I took his hand. As we made our way up I really leaned on him, and he went slower for me, thankfully, taking every step one by one until at last we ended up right in front of his door.

“Sorry I’m so lazy now.” I bumped my head into his arm.

“It’s fine.” He bumped me back, looking ridiculous at my level and smiling. He stood up. “You’re cute.”

“I’m terrifying,” I said deadpan and followed him in. “I went to the bank this morning. And convinced everyone I’m a fully functioning adult.”

“Maybe they were just being nice,” Steve said and pulled me into his arms.

“Entirely possible,” I said. “They were highly professiona–”

He kissed me mid-nonsense and I let everything of the day slip away into nothing. There was a slight alarm in the back of my head that Bucky could walk in any minute– not that he didn’t know we– but also, was it weird?

My internal ‘fuck it’ won out and I kissed Steve back without any further hesitation. If I could imagine myself walking in on Bucky and Steve making out and not give a shit, I had to trust Bucky could do the same. Overthinking, as usual, was going to do me in worse than just living in the moment of having something nice with someone I cared about.

And yet, I had to pull back and hit my head on his shoulder. I wanted to do it more, but this was a person, not a wall, and I held myself back even though I felt so…so…

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, rubbing his hands over my shoulders.

“Can you squish me?” I asked. It was stupid, it was always stupid, but–

“Oh. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he said and started increasing the pressure of his hug more and more and more, until…

“There,” I said and breathed as he held me with the perfect amount of pressure to make my body still, and the urge to fidget and pace faded away from incessant buzzing at the back of my skull to ignorable background noise. I nestled my face into his chest and sighed.

“Tell me when you need to tap out,” he said, and nuzzled into the side of my neck.

“Just a little bit?” I mumbled into his shirt.

“As long as you need.”

I made a dissatisfied grunting noise. “What if I wanted forever?”

“Do you think they make adult baby bjorns?”

I poked him hard in the side, and he laughed– but he didn’t budge. “That’s not the signal we agreed upon,” he said, mildly chiding.

“No,” I agreed and settled back down. I sighed. “Sorry; just a little more.”

“As long as you need.”

I let it stand this time, and rubbed my forehead against his shoulder before resting it there– and then I jumped, a little, when I saw Bucky staring at us from the corner of my eye. “Jesus– fuck.”

He continued to stare. “What are you doing?”

I felt calm enough to tap Steve’s arm a couple times, and he let go. I cleared my throat, wondering if this was going to be embarrassing. But Bucky did just look curious, and I was trying to play nice, so…I gave it a shot. “Um, I was…anxious. Overstimulated, maybe? I don’t know, I haven't looked into it that hard, but basically I was kind of buzzing out of my skin and it helps if Steve…holds me as hard as I can take. Kind of resets me in my body.”

I kept staring at the floor, burning with some embarrassment. Having it out like that, it definitely sounded way more stupid than it even felt (and I started wondering why Steve had gone along with it so easily the first time I’d asked him for help…) but, well, nobody laughed. I peeked to see if Steve was maybe shutting it down somehow, but he was looking at me with a gentle smile, and Bucky…

“Interesting,” he said, and it sounded like he really meant it. He even looked like he was thinking about it, and he stepped closer to us. “The confinement…helps?”

“The pressure, mostly,” I said. “I’m not really confined. I tap Steve’s arm twice–” I did it just to demonstrate how light and easy it was, “–and he lets go immediately. I never really feel confined, just squished.” That didn’t sound right. “In a nice way.”

Bucky blinked. “Squished. But…nice.”

“Yeah,” I said, just as hesitantly, because this definitely wasn’t me being poked at for fun, but something about his tone was weird and I didn’t know what it meant.

“Clint says I give good hugs,” Steve said proudly.

I snorted, and then got mad at myself for being such an easy mark. Steve even grinned at me and I play-shoved him. Bucky shook his head. “I’m missing something,” he said, but he started shrugging off his jacket.

“Your boyfriend’s a perv,” I told him, and ignored Steve sputtering a protest behind me as I went to the kitchen to seek out something to eat.

“Hmm. Is he only my boyfriend when he’s in trouble with you?” Bucky asked.

“Well, he’s your boyfriend all the time, but he’s only yours when he’s in trouble with me,” I said and looked up from the pitiful state of Steve’s snackless shelf to look at Bucky. “Does that make sense?”

He gave it a moment, then nodded. “Reasonable,” he said.

“I think it’s entirely unreasonable,” Steve said, but in a tone that wasn’t very serious.

“Good thing nobody asked you,” I said. “Are either of you guys hungry? Because I’m starving.”

“We’ve got food,” Bucky said, unexpectedly– like he also didn’t expect to have spoken. He immediately ducked down.

“Really? Where,” I said and started opening cupboards with abandon. They weren’t as pitiful as I was used to, but still no snacks, sadly. Bucky scooted in past me, opened the fridge and…

“Wow.” I stared at a fridge full of actual food. I looked at Steve, at Bucky, and then I pointed. “You cook?”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, but he looked away from me and his jaw tightened. “Just keeping busy.” He then slipped in beside me, not touching and also radiating ‘don’t touch’ like it was an actual forcefield. Steve’s kitchen wasn’t much bigger than mine and I was next to the wall so I couldn’t give him much space, but I still did what I could as he took out a couple of large Tupperware containers.

“Damn,” I said as he started dishing out what looked like stew. I looked at Steve. “Maybe I need another boyfriend.”

“You wanna borrow mine?” he asked.

Bucky snorted, and made a shooing motion at me. I scooted out of the kitchen and well out of his way, to take my regular spot at the counter. Steve stood behind me, his arms on either side of me as he braced himself on the surface to lean in close behind. “Though I notice you’re not heckling him,” Steve said.

“It’s more fun to heckle someone who doesn’t know how to use their own kitchen,” I said, leaning back to rest my head lightly against his shoulder. “Bucky knows his way around it better than you do.”

“Har har,” Steve said, gave me a quick kiss, and then snaked away so fast I had to catch myself to keep from falling into the suddenly open air.

“Jerk!” I said as he escaped to the bathroom. But I couldn’t help but smile about it– that was pretty good. I turned back to Bucky and did a double-take at the look he was giving me. It was still hard to parse his emotions because he really didn’t emote much, but he looked…perplexed? I guessed. “What?” I asked defensively.

He shook his head and went back to stirring at the stove. “And I thought I had issues.”

I rolled my eyes, but let it be. He had no idea– but he would. Eventually.

Later, when we were all full of food, we settled in the living room. Well, two of us settled. Bucky immediately went to grab his coat, and I shifted back up. “I’m not chasing you out, am I?” I asked, looking from Bucky to Steve and back again.

“No,” Bucky said firmly. He forced a grimace that was maybe supposed to be a smile, gave a short wave, then left. I waited until the door was shut and he’d had enough time to get to the stairs before I turned on Steve.

“Really,” Steve said emphatically. “He gets restless; he would’ve left regardless.”

“As in ‘would have left’ even if I wasn’t here?” I said sternly, watching him for any little twitch. “Even if I hadn’t come over at all?”

Steve nodded easily. Honestly. I settled back. “He really does just have to get out. He–” Steve stopped and cleared his throat. “He has to…check on things. He’s actually been settling more and more; I’m surprised it took him this long to duck out.”

“Okay. That’s good then.” I relaxed against Steve fully. Still paranoid– made sense, what with…everything.

Later that night, when I was back home, I got a text.

Bucky: That ‘squish’ thing actually is useful

I felt like I was floating, I was so delighted.

Me: And Steve is so good; two taps and he backs off so fast Me: Tony saw us once and he’s been trying to snag a picture ever since Me: But Steve’s too fast even for him Me: Probably not if Jarvis was allowed to help but

I was then distracted by my laundry buzzing, and by the time I got back to my phone Bucky had completely changed the subject to some Russian cat memes. It was so smooth that it didn’t occur to me that I probably shouldn’t be bringing up Tony.

It didn’t occur to me until a full week later.

~

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[fanfic-scribbles]

Fir

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: A trip to a tree lot results in a much bigger relationship milestone. Also, Bucky and Steve are idiots. It works out pretty well for everyone involved.

Quick facts: Romance – [established] Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff, the tiniest bit of angsting, sappy ending

Words: 1983

A/N: I was going to wait to post this until tomorrow because ‘Christmas season’ and all, but in case you need something else to read today here’s a little fluffy holiday something. For folks in the US, Happy Thanksgiving! For folks not in the US, Happy Thursday!

  ~

    Normally, you might find this funny. But they actually think they’re getting one over on you.

It’s almost offensive.

Sure, you may not have the most innocent blue eyes to ever blue, or the saddest pout on this side of the world, but you have a fucking brain.

“You “accidentally” bought a tree too big for my apartment?” you ask. They both nod rapidly. You stare at them. ‘Greatest tactical mind’ and ‘world’s greatest assassin’ your ass. “It has been five minutes since I lost track of you. How did you find the “perfect tree” and have time to pay for it before you found me? To, you know, ask my opinion on the tree that was supposed to go in my apartment?”

They are either good actors, or they feel a little bad. They are not and nor have they ever been anything resembling good actors. “Sorry,” Steve says and once more flashes you weaponized innocence. Eye lasers. They’re eye lasers. “I guess we just got excited. I mean, look at it!”

You roll your eyes. It is gorgeous, full and vibrant. It must have cost a fortune. “What’s done is done. It’s huge though– will it fit in your living room?”

“Of course,” they say in unison. With such certainty only an idiot could believe this wasn’t pre-planned.

Keep reading

[fanfic-scribbles]

Second Helpings Chapter 2

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. And a boyfriend. Integrating two asocial partners sounds difficult, but it might be easier than anyone thinks.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader; Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes; eventual Steve/Bucky/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 2: Overwork

Chapter Summary: Steve has two partners and they’re both over his workaholic nonsense.

Chapter Word Count: 3332

Chapter Warnings: I name a specific movie and reference a specific game that may not even have a place on modern consoles, but it’s for a good reason (annoying a character <3)

A/N: I’m soooo sorry. I will admit I have had this done for a few days now but I have been so lazy about formatting and posting and so I started working on the next chapter to procrastinate. I’m sorry. Next chapter is starting to look pretty fun though x3 I hope you’re all having a good month, and that next year is kind to you. See you in January! <3

~

Steve was having a surprisingly hard time with everything.

Not with having the two of us around, no– he was happier than I’d ever seen him. Almost buoyant sometimes, like even walking was easier. The idea of being insecure about that left my mind as soon as it came in– he had gotten the second chance nobody could ever hope to have in their life, and without losing anything he had thus far. Anybody would be deliriously happy about that, and I never had reason to worry. Steve made sure of that. Very sure. Perhaps even overly so.

No. The only one I had to worry about, these days, was Steve.

“Hey!” he said, breathless and hunched over slightly as soon as he came in the door.

I stood in my kitchen, in the middle of concocting a new delicious drink, (or crime against humanity, time would tell), and froze. I looked at the calendar on my fridge. Nothing was written down for today. I looked at Steve. “Hey,” I said and smiled, because I was never unhappy to see him, but… “Is everything okay?”

He blinked and stood, now utterly caught up with his lungs. “I…we were going to meet tonight. Right?”

I looked again at my calendar, then back at him. “Did I forget to write it down?” I asked. Seriously, because that was certainly a thing that could happen– but the dawning realization on his face said otherwise. “Steve?”

He put his hand to his face and took a few deep breaths. I immediately moved closer to him. “Hey, Steve, it’s okay–”

But before I could grab him, he stepped smoothly back and already had his hand on the doorknob, dammit. “It was– Bucky; I was supposed to meet Bucky at the– I’m so sorry sweetheart, I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Steve wait–!”

He was gone. I dropped my hand and sighed heavily. “Make up what,” I muttered to myself as I cleaned up my experiment.

Steve was…haphazard as of late, one could say. Scattered. He was running himself down for SHIELD in between a few missions the Avengers took to avert some near-catastrophes, while also trying to be some approximation of The Most Perfect Boyfriend Ever for both Bucky and I. I would be surprised if, in the past month, he’d had any more time to himself than whatever he spent going to the bathroom. It was ridiculous. But, because he was also Captain Avoidant, every time I tried to bring it up, he found a way to change the subject.

I pulled out my phone, and my texts with Bucky. The log was mostly just me sending him dumb pictures and gifs, but given he’d only cursed me out twice in Russian so far, (for being, admittedly, very annoying on purpose), we were doing all right. Now, though, on the verge of sending actual text with actual meaning, I found myself hesitating. It took me minutes before I figured out something basic to say.

Me: Steve just left here, on his way to you Me: He’s a bit panicked Me: I hope you haven't been waiting long

I stood there, waiting, for an eternity. Or a minute. Same thing.

Bucky: Jesus. Bucky: I’m fine; did he double-book? Me: No, I wasn’t expecting him Me: He just got his wires crossed

I tapped my fingers on the counter, then pulled the (metaphorical) trigger.

Me: I’m worried about him.

Bucky didn’t respond right away. That was…fair. Talking about Steve behind his back wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had, but I wasn’t sure what else to do when he kept trying to ignore the problem. It wasn’t at the point of frustrating me too far, but I really didn’t want to have that fight if I didn’t have to.

My phone buzzed.

Bucky: Me too. Bucky: But I’m not the best at…that.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Me: It’s okay. I mostly wanted to know I wasn’t crazy for worrying Bucky: You’re not. Me: I have an idea Me: I’ll tell you when I have an actual plan? Bucky: Affirmative.

I sent back a link to a video of a cat giving a thumbs up.

Bucky: Is that fake? Me: Some cats can have thumbs! Bucky: That’s terrifying. Bucky: They’re already taking over the world. Bucky: And they have built-in knives. Bucky: They don’t need thumbs too.

I grinned. Yeah, my boyfriend’s boyfriend was pretty all right.

~

Everything came together on an otherwise normal Friday evening.

“Hey,” Steve said, and even if his voice didn’t sound bedraggled, he certainly looked the part. He was moving much slower– more like me when he managed to get me out of bed for his early morning runs. And it was only six p.m. Bucky entered in after him, looking almost as exasperated as Steve looked exhausted, and when Steve almost mindlessly shut the door on him, Bucky merely caught the edge and rolled his eyes.

I refrained from doing the same, given Steve could see me. I was tired of the pretending, not of him, and I didn’t want to give the wrong idea. “Hey guys,” I said and gestured over the snack spread on the coffee table. “Ready for movie night?”

“Absolutely!” Steve said, feigning too much excitement. I didn’t let my face change, but I could see him wince at his own bad acting.

“Good. I’ve got a chill selection of movies, nothing too stressful, and plenty of food to nosh on,” I said. I then gestured at the couch. “Plenty of room; Steve you can take the middle. Bucky, do you have a corner preference?”

“Um…” His eyes flicked back and forth. “Do you mind if I take the chair?”

I hesitated. Before I could offer him and Steve the whole couch though, Bucky shook his head. “I get too closed in,” he said firmly.

“Wow.” I put my fingers to my temples. “Do you know what I’m thinking now, Mr. Mindreader?”

He had a hint of a smile. “A middle finger?”

“So close!” I dropped my arms. “Two middle fingers.”

Steve actually laughed, and though he did look more tired, he was undeniably fond. I didn’t stare at him, barely looked at him– just in case he tried to pretend again– but I took his hand and led him to the couch. I plopped down at the back edge, and patted my stomach. “Need a pillow?”

His smile softened and he came right over and settled in against me, turned partly so he could still sort of see the TV, but with his ear to my chest as his arm looped around my leg to keep it up. It was a weird system, but it was quite comfortable, and I felt his body relax.

“Need me to grab you anything from the table?” I asked.

“No…” he said, sounding half-asleep already. He cleared his throat and said, slightly more awake, “Not– not yet. What are we watching?”

“I don’t think we ever got through Totoro, and I’m needing something kind of comfortable,” I said and pulled up the remote. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” Steve shifted his head to the side and he smiled at Bucky. “These movies are a little odd, but really good.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said. “Couldn’t be odder than you.”

Steve grumbled to himself, and I snickered and set up the movie as I stroked his hair consolingly. But my simple actions caused his body to slump even more, so I kept it up. Steve was almost half-asleep even before the girls finished checking out the house, and fully passed out not long after, so he completely missed the hilarity of Bucky watching the Catbus show up. Granted, it wasn’t a big show, given his mostly expressionless exterior, but his eyes did this thing where they squinted, widened, furrowed, and squinted again.

“What,” he said, barely flicking a glance my way.

“You were fine with the big fuzzy Totoro and his little leaf, but not the Catbus?” I asked back.

“I feel like I’m having a hallucinatory reaction to something.” He then looked at the snacks and frowned.

“Oh please, I’m not fun,” I drawled sarcastically and took a cracker. Steve let out a little mumble and dug his face into my stomach, making me pause, but he settled right back down and so I went back to crunching with abandon. He didn’t show any signs of shifting again. “If I didn’t drug his sorry ass, I’m definitely not going to do anything to you.”

“You wouldn’t have to drug him, with how he’s been running around,” Bucky grumbled.

“Did he keep dodging the issue with you too?” I asked lightly, running my fingernails gently over Steve’s head. It was quiet, and I looked up at Bucky.

He looked away. “It’s okay,” I said and looked at Steve again. Not stirring even a little. “He would have just jumped out a window or something.”

Bucky snorted. “Christ alive, he fucking would’ve,” he muttered. He opened his mouth again but there was a buzzing noise– and he went stock still. So did I, minus the part where I paused the movie, and I watched him slip out his phone and very precisely swipe and type and…

“Is everything okay?” I murmured, not wanting to distract him from whatever had his attention so razor sharp.

“Yeah,” he said and let out a little puff of air. “Just gotta handle something. Don’t mind me.”

I was more than a little curious, but it was obviously not the time to be nosy. Later, maybe. But I didn’t want to miss any more potentially hilarious reactions to the movie, so I changed the channel, and picked up my controller. I tried to half-listen to what he was doing, but he was pretty quiet; mostly just soft sighs of disgust and grunts and whatever the ambient noise one could call swiping at a screen made, so I got bored with him and got into my game.

“What…the fuck is that.”

“Hm?” I glanced over at Bucky to see his phone was no longer the focus of his attention. The TV was. “Oh, it’s just a puzzle game. It’s–”

“No.” He scowled deeper. “That.”

I followed directly his line of sight. “Oh. That’s my character– the thing I’m controlling to play.” I jumped a few times and looked at Bucky again. He looked unreasonably annoyed. And life got just a little bit better, in that moment. “He’s just a little blob guy.”

Bucky kept staring at the screen. “Why does he sing?”

He sounded so consternated it actually made me grin a little. “What? Like this?” I pressed a button to make my character sing, and Bucky scowled deeper. “How can you not like his little song?”

“It’s stupid.”

I made my character sing again and watched Bucky’s face remain scowly. I pressed the button again and sang along to the fake language. He frowned at me. “Terrible,” he said flatly.

“How dare you,” I said and pressed the button multiple times in revenge. It was kind of hard to stay so quiet when I was trying to aggravate another person, but Steve remained blissfully asleep– both good and a sign of warning all its own. Once I got to the end of the level, I saved and exited.

“You’re done?” Bucky asked and stretched back. “Too bad. That terrible music was almost growing on me.”

“That song is adorable and heartwarming,” I said stubbornly as I put the movie back on.

“It’s gibberish.”

“It’s adorable and heartwarming gibberish,” I said and blew a raspberry at him. He huffed, but settled in.

Partway through the movie, though, when we were both pretty into it and Steve was still dead to the world, I noticed Bucky suddenly go very, very still. I turned my head– and saw him laser-focused on the screen. It was just the hospital scene where the girls visited their mom, but…

Oh. I focused on the TV, just so I wasn’t staring at him, but after a few moments I asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he sounded so normal I felt okay to look at him again. He kept looking from the TV, to Steve, to the TV, and back and forth again. He lowered his voice. “Some memories are…faint. Hard to grasp. I want to ask, but I don’t know how, yet.”

I nodded. “Have you tried working them out through writing?”

He grimaced. “Journaling? Like with the…tape?”

It took me a moment to wrap my head around what he was asking– my mind went immediately to tape recordings– until I realized the mildly derogatory tone with which he said ‘journaling,’ and I realized he was talking about the more…decorative aspects of it. I snorted, briefly resolved to find some pretty washi tape that would aggravate him, and then said, “It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just write shit down so you don’t forget. Or until you figure out your thoughts. I do that sometimes– I forget something, so I start writing down what I was thinking and follow the thread until I figure it out again.”

“Hm,” he said. But it wasn’t dismissive, so I moved carefully to feel around in the drawer of the side table right behind me, unearthed a journal, and held Steve still as I tossed it in Bucky’s general direction. It fell on the floor.

“Terrible,” Bucky said, but he leaned over and picked it up before flipping through. “It’s…blank?”

“Well yeah, I’m not giving you a journal I’m using,” I said. He was looking at me with a scrunched face I just couldn’t read. “What?”

“You’ll need it later, then,” he said and slid it onto the coffee table.

I flapped my hand. “No; I have a bunch.”

“A bunch of blank journals?” he asked with a very telling eyebrow raise.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Judgy,” I said. “I’m gonna go back to my little blob song if you keep it up.”

“No, please don’t,” he said, entirely without emotion. But he was back to watching the movie, so I decided to be nice and let him enjoy it. I tried not to watch him too hard, but I did check in a few times just to make sure he wasn’t bored out of his mind. That was…hard to determine, given how little his face moved, but his eyes were focused, so I hoped that was good enough.

Steve started to stir just in time for the credits to roll. He shifted lazily, digging his face into me like he thought he was in bed. I snorted, stroked his hair, and sighed. “I love you, you giant pain in the ass,” I muttered as he settled back down.

A chuckle– a real, honest, genuine sound of amusement– made me lift my head just in time to see a real, honest, genuine smile on Bucky’s face. It was, admittedly, tiny, but it was there. “Yeah,” Bucky said and shifted down into the chair until he was lounging. “That’s how it goes.”

I shrugged one shoulder, and leaned back. “So it goes.”

For a little while. Until Steve woke up, and he found out he wasn’t the only one capable of guilting someone into self-care.

So it went.

~

Steve woke up much later, when I was starting to drift off myself and after Bucky had gotten antsy and taken off. He’d said to text if I needed him, but I was fairly certain I could have this conversation well enough. And if I couldn’t– that’s what Sam and Natasha were for. But I hoped I wouldn’t have to get nuclear with this.

“Hey there Sleeping Beauty,” I said and stroked his head to make the act of waking not quite so terrible.

He groaned nonetheless. “I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he mumbled, sounding like one foot was still in the Land of Nod, and I helped him sit up. He looked around, blinking, and asked, “Where’s Bucky?”

“He went home,” I said. “I told him you’d stay here tonight.”

He slumped and blinked a few times. I tried to ignore the tightening in my chest– for anybody else this would just be normal sleepiness, but for Steve, it was wrong. “Steve,” I said, a little too sharply, because while this was not like the hospital thing– he wasn’t drugged or dosed– it still itched at that moment in my mind. He looked at me with full attention, and I shook my head and composed myself. “This is…weird. Did something happen? Is SHIELD forcing you to do double-duty or something?”

He frowned, then smoothed it over way too quick. “No,” he said. “I’m just…”

I stared at him. He stared at me. I wondered if the serum did anything for eye moisture, because I was fully ready to make a fool of myself keeping the staring contest going for as long as possible, and I couldn’t see him doing the same. Thankfully, he didn’t try. Smart man.

“No,” he said. “I–…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I…don’t want them to regret letting him out. Or try to take him back.” Steve then looked deeply embarrassed by the admission, so I tried to be as neutral as possible, though he still rushed to add, “It’s not rational. It just…”

“It’s just a bad feeling, a fear; I get it,” I said. “But also– it needs to stop. This needs to stop. I’m not going to watch you wear yourself down to nothing.” I stroked his hair. “I’m okay with sharing your time with Bucky. Work though is on thin ice right now. Got it?”

He smiled at me. He then placed his hand on the couch arm behind me and rose up in one big swell and smirked, and I sank down a little in surprise. He leaned in, and I lifted my head to match his lips as he came back down to kiss me. He wasted no time getting deep, and when he pulled back, he said, “Let me make it up to you?”

I twirled a bit of his hair around my finger. I wouldn’t have described it as long, but it took noticeably longer to fall away than it usually did. “Promise you’ll fix the issue?”

“I promise,” he said easily. He looked a little sheepish when he added, “If you noticed, then…”

I rolled my eyes. I could have been offended, but honestly, he was right. “I’m glad you see how dire it’s gotten,” I said with a bit of dramatic flair, and I wrapped my arms around behind his neck. “You can make it up by taking me to bed.”

His grin alone took liberties. “A bit old-fashioned, but I’d be more than happy to,” he said and picked me up to carry me.

“I meant that literally,” I said, and let out a yawn.

“Oh?” He nuzzled the edge of my jaw and pressed a quick kiss that made me snap my mouth shut. “But I’m not tired anymore…”

“Hmf; well I a–…am…” But I couldn’t even give the sentence the oomph it needed as he started nibbling at just the right spot on my neck. “Steve…”

“Yeah, just like that,” he breathed as he lay me down in bed.

After a few seconds, though, his movements slowed to a stop, his body became really oddly and noticeably heavy, and a few questioning pokes revealed he was, in fact, fast asleep. I shook with laughter I tried to silence, but I could not stop, even as I rearranged us into better positions– the best I could, at least. It was a little awkward given he was basically dead weight half-draped over me, but, thankfully, he didn’t stir a whit. When I did manage to get at least mostly comfortable, I snuggled in and buried my grin in Steve’s shoulder.

I could not wait to tell Bucky about this.

~

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[fanfic-scribbles]

Second Helpings Chapter 1

Masterlist

<<Previous Story Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. And a boyfriend. Integrating two asocial partners sounds difficult, but it might be easier than anyone thinks.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader; Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes; eventual Steve/Bucky/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 1: Lost

Chapter Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to do with himself sometimes. Tonight, he gets roped into a snack run.

Chapter Word Count: 2259

~

Life was getting on pretty well, all things considered. Bucky was still KIA as far as the world at large was concerned, but plans were being made to control the inevitable media tailspin when people found out he was alive– which was being treated as a foregone conclusion at this point, and Steve had looked about as enthused expressing the idea as I felt whenever I thought about it.

So I tried not to think about it. Steve was back, he had his boyfriend, and, while things may have been a little weird, they were definitely looking up. And honestly, at this point, weird was almost synonymous with good, so I just accepted it.

Weird was sometimes just ‘weird’ though too. Like when I was doing a quick snack run late one night and made it down a block before I saw a familiar face. I blinked a few times just to make sure it was Bucky leaning on the wall and, indeed, my eyes did not deceive me. He looked…awkward. Like he was almost ready to run. Not at all like the surety he held himself with for our little ramen dinner, though he still waited for me to approach.

“Is this gonna be a thing?” I asked. “Because you have my phone number.”

His lips twitched in what was almost an attempt at a smile. Almost, because while he sounded amused when he said, “Maybe I’ve been thinking about blocking it with all those stupid pictures you’ve been sending me,” his expression was clearly attempting for a scowl. The ‘attempted’ scowl and ‘almost’ smile gave him kind of a weird grimace that he shook off for a tired look. “Sorry,” he said, ducking his head a bit. “I was just getting out for a bit, wanted to see your neighborhood, and then I…couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

Scoping my neighborhood wasn’t too out of bounds considering Steve spent enough time here. I was honestly more surprised Bucky hadn’t been around sooner. “Were you gonna stop by?”

He glanced at me for a split second. “I thought about it,” he said. “I don’t like spending too much time…out, and I didn’t have anywhere else to end up. But then that seemed…weird.”

‘Needed a place to go but then felt awkward about it’ was a feeling I could very much relate to. Was it weird? Sure, but I could truck with weird. “I was gonna go to the store to pick up some snacks,” I said. “You wanna come with and see if there’s anything you like too?”

He grimaced for real then. “Most food is wasted on me.”

“I’m sure we can find something. And everybody needs to eat– might as well make it something good.” But as hesitant as he seemed, he still looked a little lost. “Well, can you stomach the sight of it? I will find something else to bribe you with if it means I get help carrying the bags back home.”

That did the trick, and he visibly relaxed. “I can help,” he said, in a tone that more said he actually wanted to.

“Great,” I said and motioned him to come along, and he fell right in step. “And don’t worry; where we’re going is pretty chill at this time of night.”

“It is late,” he said and I could feel his side-eye.

“Sometimes you throw the dice on ‘murder’ or ‘dealing with too many people,’” I said. “I haven't lost yet.”

“Yet,” he repeated, again sizing me up. He sighed in dismay and muttered something under his breath.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Now: onward!”

~

To his credit, he only looked a little wide-eyed at the grocery store I had selected. I’d wished I was a little lazier, because then I could have done with the little bodega I liked, but they didn’t have some of the things I was really craving, and had the basic energy to get. So, mid-sized grocery store it was. “You good?” I asked and hoped I would get a real answer.

To his credit he did at least look like he considered the question before he rolled his shoulders and nodded.

“Okay,” I said, taking him at his word. He was a grown-ass man who’d been living a hard life on his own power for years now. I wasn’t about to infantilize him– or lead him to think I was going to be doing any digging. Better for him to find out right away that trying that ‘polite’ shit with me was a bad idea. “If I turn and don’t see you, I’ll assume you ducked out for a minute. Poke or text me if you’re going to leave entirely; I’m adding your arms into my shopping calculations.”

He snorted. “I thought this was a ‘snack run?’”

“Snacks can be meals if only you believe,” I said. But I took one basket to carry around. “Fine. Small snack run, only because I wanna go home ASAP. Now– let’s hunt.”

I couldn’t see the eyeroll, but I felt it.

Honestly though, he was pretty good company to have. He was so unobtrusive sometimes I had to double-check to see if he was still there, only to find him actively scanning the shelves. He grimaced at things sometimes, but then was too quick to look elsewhere for me to see what he was judging like that.

“How am I supposed to get a feel for what you like if I don’t know what you hate?” I whined and bumped into him half-heartedly.

He snorted, and squinted at me. “Why do I get the feeling you’re just bein’ a nosy cuss?”

“Because you’re smart,” I said normally and went to snag a bag of chips. I didn’t care for them, but Steve would demolish them easy. I grabbed another two bags. Chips were light, at least. “And god, we have got to update your vocabulary; I think I’d feel better if you just called me a nosy bitch.”

He stopped so suddenly and sputtered. I peered around him and his beautiful draping 90’s boyband hair to see his face doing very strange, minute contortions, until he looked at me with wide eyes. “I’m not gonna call you that!” he said as though I had mortally wounded his honor. He then pulled out his phone and started doing something with it. “That’s not– that word hasn’t changed that much has it…?”

“Relax, I was making a bad joke.” I patted his arm as consolingly as I could. He squinted at me again. “I call myself a bitch all the time. It’s most of my personality. Just ask Steve.”

“No it isn’t.” He scowled, but he put his phone away. “And Steve would never say that about you.”

“I think I’ve pushed him pretty close sometimes,” I said. “But he’s also an asshole, so his opinions are a little weird.”

“Hmf.” But he stopped looking like a fluffed-up cat and we got on our way. “You are kind of an asshole.”

“How am I an asshole but not a bitch?” I asked. Mostly rhetorically.

“It’s ruder,” was all he said to that. We turned and faced down the freezer aisle– and he stopped. This, actually, was quite familiar.

“Stay here; I’m gonna grab two appetizers and then we’re gonna go down a different aisle,” I said.

He scoffed. “I can handle standing next to freezers,” he said, and actually gave me a dirty look.

That was fair. “I know you can. But I swear it’s fine– Steve doesn’t like it either,” I said, trying to be as even-keeled as possible. I understood– both the reticence to go, and the impulse to prove himself a big tough guy– but me being too concerned would just be patronizing and no one liked that shit. “And I’m not even going halfway down; I’ll be back in a second. Just hang out here and…” I flashed him a big smile and ended with, “…Chill,” before I walked down to get my two items.

“Asshole,” Bucky muttered before I was a few steps away, and I laughed. But he did stay, and wait for me to come back.

“So what would it take?” I asked absently as I peered over the remaining aisle names. “To get you to call me the big B?”

“I’m not going to do that. Steve would clock me.” He shuffled uncomfortably. “And it would be something…too far, I think.”

“Interesting.” So that was out. “Good boundaries. You’re probably going to hear it a lot from me though, so that’s your warning.”

“You’re a warning,” he mumbled.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” I said, but I tugged at the very edge of his sleeve and we went for my last point of interest. The spread was looking good; it just needed a couple more things. “Okay, now…” I looked up and down the last aisle and sighed. There was so much stuff. “I’m looking for something kind of fruity and small. Easy to eat when you need something to munch on. If you see something good, let me know.”

As we walked his eyes scanned the shelves with a focus I’d only seen in nature documentaries about hawks. But he did zero in on a section of shelving, looked at me, and pointed. I grinned, and bit my lip to keep down a ‘good boy.’ I wasn’t sure of all the ways he’d been dehumanized over the years– context clues pointed me more towards ‘thing’ than ‘pet’– but better to stow the potentially offensive comments until I knew I wasn’t going to be stabbing into soft underbelly. Dumb jokes could come later when I knew him better. For now…

“Jackpot,” I said, scanning over the boxes until I found something that looked good enough. I was tired and wanted to go to bed. “See anything you like?”

He hesitated, but I followed his line of sight and picked something off the shelf. “Oh,” I said. “I think Steve’ll like these.”

He smiled slightly, and briefly, and looked at me with an intensity that wasn’t necessarily bad. “And maybe I’ll try ‘em too,” he said, a little quieter.

“Excellent.” I dumped them into the handbasket with flourish. “Let’s check out and get the fuck out of here. I’m people’d out.”

He snorted. “You’ve only been around me.”

I waved my hand. “There’s other people around.” But I led him along to the checkstands and while we waited, I commented, “I’m surprised you’re not people’d out just being around me.”

He gave me a small, wry smile– and then ducked his head away again. I shifted the stuff in my hands, and looked at what I had him holding. It wasn’t unmanageable– maybe three or so bags, and not that heavy.

“Hey,” I said and waited until he at least lifted his ear in my direction. “You can scoot, if you like. I won’t take offense–”

He gave me a very flat look– and right on, at that; eye contact and everything. “I’m walking you home,” he said, as matter-of-fact as I’d ever heard.

“I’ll be okay,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed easily. “Because I’m walking you home.”

I rolled my eyes, but it was my turn to use my own unimpressed look. It, predictably, didn’t work at all. Bucky took three of the four bags and left me to handle the chips while I also scrambled to put my wallet away and chase after him out of the store.

“You’ve got a weird idea of being a gentleman,” I said. Bucky snorted, taking my inane comment in the spirit in which I had intended, and we walked back to my place. He had a moment outside where he hesitated upon seeing a couple of other people going inside, and I stopped and hung back to watch them go in.

“It’s fine,” Bucky huffed, a little sullenly.

“The elevator’s not that big, and I’m not super keen on sharing it always either,” I said. I gently bumped into him. “You’re not the only asocial miser around, you know.”

He looked at me with suspicion in his squinted eyes, but he looked away again. “You got a long way to catch up to me,” he said quietly.

“I’m not catching up to anybody, I just am what I am,” I said and started walking again. When we got inside nobody else was in sight, and we were able to wait in relative peace. “It is kind of weird though, that Steve keeps attracting people like us.”

Bucky snorted, but said nothing. He didn’t really say anything else at all, actually; as soon as I unlocked the door he slipped in and set the bags down. After an awkward pause he nodded respectfully in a way I almost expected a perfunctory ‘ma’am,’ but he managed to stop himself, and as soon as I said, “Have a good night,” he was out the door so swiftly I was sure if I ducked my head out in the hallway I wouldn’t see him.

I rolled my eyes and started unpacking my bags, stopping for one good yawn before I got back to business so I could get to bed. That had gone about as well as I could have expected. I had spent some more time with Bucky, without Steve or anyone, and nobody had died, nothing caught fire, and no one had been mortally offended. Also, it was kind of nice to know I wasn’t actually the worst socializer in the world. Win, win, win, win.

~

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[fanfic-scribbles]

Second Helpings Masterlist

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. And a boyfriend. Integrating two asocial partners sounds difficult, but it might be easier than anyone thinks.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader; Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes; eventual Steve/Bucky/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense, Reader/OFC (basically POV character) is written as female/bisexual/overweight, bisexual!Steve Rogers, bisexual!Bucky Barnes, slow slice-of-life vignettes for the most part, this is a follow-up to Dinner Date and Lunch Buddy

Chapter One: Lost – Bucky doesn’t know what to do with himself sometimes. Tonight, he gets roped into a snack run.

Chapter Two: Overwork – Steve has two partners. They’re both over his workaholic nonsense.

Chapter Three: Snow Fight – Weather is better when you have company to share it with. Or bitch about it to, but that’s basically the same thing.

Chapter Four: Time and Space Apart – There is no quick fix for pain and healing, it just takes time. So does getting used to new people. Time is stupid.

Chapter Five: Test Case Scenario – Helping someone discover new things (or things new-to-them) is a love language. Or at least, a ‘like’ language. Progress is progress.

Chapter Six: Sleepover – An impromptu sleepover breaks the ice a little more.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Dinner Date Chapter 44

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 44: Custody

Chapter Summary: Truces and arrangements are made, and the future looks bright for Steve, even with two prickly partners. They love him, though, and that’s really all that matters.

Chapter Word Count: 4820

A/N: Happy Halloween! I am soooooo sorry this took this long, I really didn’t want it to, but: here we are, at an end and a beginning. The next story will hopefully post within a week, though I cannot promise anything. It will come with its own masterlist here on Tumblr and shouldn’t make any waves; it will continue to be slice-of-life, slightly awkward from time to time, and pretty much more of the same, with one notable addition. But no matter if you’re going to be here for the rest of it or you just want to see the end of this particular story, thanks for coming along, and I hope you enjoy the end– as much as it can be called that =3 Have a happy 31st, and enjoy.

~

Steve came in like a…I didn’t even know, actually. He walked with purpose but also there was a downward slouch to his shoulders that made him look like a soda can being crumpled, which only intensified with each step.

I put my controller down and faced him. “Steve?”

He stopped, sighed heavily, and sloughed off his leather jacket. “Hey,” he said, sounding somewhere between dejected and angry. I stood up and approached him slowly, but he waited for me, and when I wrapped my arms around him he, still very slowly, returned the hug, and after a few more seconds, let out a gusty sigh. He rubbed my back halfheartedly and pulled away, even going so far as to give me the weakest smile ever. “How was your day?”

I stared at him. “Seriously?” I asked. “You came in with so many dark clouds you should have your own storm watch. What’s wrong?”

He lost the attempt and sighed, and this time he just looked annoyed. Incredibly, incredibly annoyed. “Bucky turned himself into SHIELD,” he said. His mouth twisted down further. “He’s…in custody. According to his own damn wishes.” Steve shoved his hands into his pockets so aggressively I heard one of them rip. He sighed in disgust. “I was going to talk to him– try and sort things out with…us, but.” Steve swallowed hard. “He even got Natasha to help him so I couldn’t stop it once I found out what he was doing.”

There was…a lot there. “Wow,” I said, turning all that over in my head. Bucky wanted that. He wanted it to the point of enlisting someone who was very much not a fan of his for help, and entrusted himself into the hands of strangers. I could not even begin to wonder what the hell his deal was. Admittedly, probably neither could any psychologist. “I have done some major procrastinating in my life, but putting off a heavy, emotional conversation by getting arrested is next level.”

The way Steve said my name was exasperated, but he looked about to cry. “Oh– oh Steve, hey, hey,” I said and tugged at him. “Baby, come here; it’s fine, he’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” he said, but he let me pull him in and rested his head against my shoulder.

“I know it as much as I know anything.” I ran my nails through the ends of his hair, and turned my head to kiss him. “I know you’re scared. I know it hurts to think of Bucky being treated poorly because he was made to do things beyond his control. But if SHIELD has people like Natasha and Clint and Sharon and Phil, then it has to have other smart people too, who can understand that.” I pulled back and nudged him so he looked at me, and I held his face. “Maybe they don’t care for him like you do, but there are people there that care about you. Right now, just focus on that. Natasha knows how much he means to you and she cares about you. Maybe it sucks to have to think of it like that, but the love you have for him will protect him because they care for all of your well-being. If you trust them enough now to still follow their orders even after the shit with Insight, you can trust them with him.”

And I doubted that Bucky, after the shit he went through with Hydra, and especially after his more recent reprogramming incident, would put himself right back in the hands of people he had not thoroughly, thoroughly vetted– if not for his own sake, then for Steve’s at least. But I also thought maybe it wasn’t a great idea to bring that last part up.

Steve did some breathing exercises, but he didn’t pull away from me. Eventually he nodded, and I pulled him back close in for some more comforting kisses that he returned a little desperately, until he sighed and once more just held me, and allowed himself to be held in return.

“…Also, there’s no way Coulson got to be a big Captain America fanboy without also idolizing Bucky too a little bit I’m just saying.”

Steve let out a weak laugh, but when he pulled back his smile was genuine, if small and wobbly. “There wouldn’t be a Captain America without Bucky.” He rubbed his eyes. “I wouldn’t be alive without him. I can’t…” He opened his mouth a few times, and clenched his hands into fists. “Natasha told me it was what he wanted, what he chose, but is it the right choice?”

“I don’t know, but it also doesn’t really matter. Sometimes, people need to be able to make their own choices even if they aren’t the best,” I said. “They’re not going to kill him. Even if they wanted to, I don’t think they could. Bucky’s held on for this long; this isn’t the way he’s going out.”

Steve nodded, still looking troubled. “I just don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m…I’m terrified. I don’t know how to protect him; I don’t even know what they’re holding him for. They won’t tell me anything.”

I didn’t know what to tell him either, so I just held him.

~

Things kind of settled in the following days. Steve was able to break through to his bosses and had a couple of sit-downs with Bucky. Heavily monitored, of course, and always too short, in his opinion, but even those short meetings stabilized him in a way that was genuinely a relief to see.

I still didn’t quite know what was going to happen. I loved Steve. Steve loved me. And Bucky. Would Bucky be okay with that? When he had the time to actually think about it, would Bucky be okay with me? If Bucky ended up deciding he just didn’t like me…what then? Steve wouldn’t be dissuaded so easily, but there was a part of me still anxious. What if he had to choose. What if Bucky took up all of his time and we drifted apart. What if, what if, what if. I tried not to think about it.

Until the day that was no longer an option.

I was making my way home from work and turned a corner, when my brief scanning of the people around me brought me to a sudden stop. There was Bucky. Just…standing on a corner, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world and didn’t just get out of SHIELD purgatory. I definitely did a double-take– and he actually had the gall to look over and raise his eyebrows at me, like, ‘really?’ I rolled my own eyes and, after a few seconds of hesitation, walked over and stood in front of him. For several more moments, neither of us said anything, and just sized each other up. He looked pretty good, actually; maybe it was just my imagination but he seemed steadier on his feet– less wild in the eyes. Even his hair looked shinier.

“I didn’t know you were out and about,” I said. I almost asked if Steve did, since I was sure Steve would have told me, but it was a moot point considering he was going to be unreachable until later. Bucky, for his part, just shrugged casually, and looked me up and down. I opened my arms and struck a little pose. “Do I need to twirl?”

He snorted, and actually made a small smile. “You…feeling better?” he asked, and ducked his head.

It took me a second before I remembered the last time we’d met, in the hospital, and I grimaced before I could catch myself. “Better,” I said and sighed. “Thanks. For saving my life and shit.”

His mouth twisted in displeasure. “Romanova let me have it. And she was right– I shouldn’t’ve left it on you,” he said, and he very obviously forced himself to look at me. “I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “I don’t blame you.”

He shrugged one shoulder, then glanced around. “You said there’s good ramen in New York?”

That was a weird fucking sentence. Until I remembered my last phone conversation with Steve, and I rolled my eyes hard. “So you were listening in,” I said and gave him the stinkeye.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“Mm hm. We’ll talk about that– over dinner.” Because ramen actually sounded really good. I checked my map and bobbed my head. “It’s not too far. You up for a walk?”

“Sure.” He stepped away from the wall. “You wanna invite Barton?”

“Is he hovering?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure. I bet Clint likes ramen.”

“Clint loves ramen!” Clint said as he popped up in between us.

I gave Bucky a flat look and then aimed it at everyone’s favorite disaster. “Clint is uninvited if he keeps talking in third person.”

“Aw.”

I then looked at Clint with a harsher eye. “Wait. Why are you hovering?” He wasn’t on the SHIELD detail thing, and I had been told there was no reason to continue it, with Bucky decidedly not a threat to me, so…why was he so conveniently here?

Clint looked at Bucky, starting to grin. Bucky looked away from him, towards me but not at me, while Clint looked directly at me. He also looked like he was having a pretty great day. “He’s technically not out of custody yet.”

With how cheerful he sounded, it took me a moment to really understand what he’d just said. When I did, I snapped my head to Bucky.

“Fury made a crack.” Bucky lifted his head imperiously. “I’m making a point.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay Jailbird; let’s get some food before the paddy wagon comes around.”

Clint laughed. “Jesus,” Bucky muttered. “You makin’ fun of my age, doll? Better be careful; your boyfriend is only a year younger than me.”

“Yet only one of you calls me ‘doll,’” I said dryly. “Now come on; the ramen place is really good so the only reasonable time to go is before the rush.”

We made good time, and sat in the back. None of us talked, though Clint had a pretty soothing presence. In his own way– ‘soothing’ was maybe the wrong word, but Clint was always pretty laid-back, and he was no less so now, even with Bucky basically being a…I didn’t even know. Escapee? It was weird to think of, as he had given himself to SHIELD in the first place, and Steve was right– what the hell were they even holding him for, now that the conditioning was broken? Did they plan to hold him forever? Did they have a way of figuring out if the conditioning could ever be fully broken?

None of those were appropriate dinner conversations, and I flipped my menu up and started perusing. It was better than focusing on the fact that I was out with Bucky, even though he seemed really stable, and we could…probably talk. About things. Like Steve. And whether…

I took a deep breath and tried to settle. Maybe we could talk about that another day. Maybe I’d be feeling less strung out about it later. And, while I was wishing for miracles, maybe I would magically form into the perfect adult who could handle their own shit all the time.

“Oops.” Clint pulled out a phone that was buzzing rapidly. He unlocked it, then sighed at the screen. “Aw jeeze; hang on, just gotta…”

He tapped and swiped away, and it was just…silent. I looked at Bucky. He looked at me. I was kind of glad Clint was there though– if he wasn’t, it would have been just as awkward, and this way, when he put his phone away, I had someone else who was at least familiar with my brand of awkward. “They’re not coming to crash the joint, are they?”

“Are you and Cap on an old gangster movie kick or something?” Clint asked and flicked my straw as I was going to put it in my drink, sending it across the table. I cursed and scrambled to get it before it could roll onto the floor. “And nah– we’re good.”

Bucky snorted, and I just barely had the chance to pretend to be dignified before the waiter showed up to take our orders. Bucky surprised me by ordering something spicy. And I must have been looking at him weird, because he frowned at me. “What?”

I shrugged. “You like spicy stuff?” I asked, just trying to find something to talk about that wasn’t our shared boyfriend.

“Yes.”

And that was that. I desperately sought out anything that might be remarkable in the restaurant, anything in the lower recesses of my mind that might have passed for civilized conversation, but I had nothing. And Bucky looked almost equally fidgety.

“Nice find,” Clint said and leaned back in his space.

“Steve found it, actually,” I said. I ignored how Bucky’s eyes shifted up. “Sometimes we try to outdo each other for finding new places to eat or order from. He’s a competitive bitch.”

“Yeah, if a fight’s going well and there are big numbers, he and Thor sometimes get a Gimli-Legolas thing going,” Clint said, slouching in his seat like it was a lounger.

“How often does he win?” I asked.

Clint grinned at me. “You competitive too?”

“Just when Steve’s involved,” I said. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just imply to him that it sounds like he loses.”

Clint laughed, and even Bucky let show a small smile. And after that, dinner was…okay. I was very, very grateful Clint decided to tag along. A little conflicted– I did want to talk with Bucky about…certain things, but I wasn’t sure if he was going to be okay with it yet. So I took what I could get, and what I could get was an uninvolved third party working very hard to make things not so awkward.

Like how he slurped so obnoxiously that Bucky and I both stared at him. He pulled his head up out of his bowl just enough to say, “What? It’s how you show your appreciation,” and then went right back to it. Bucky squinted suspiciously. I rolled my eyes, and made a move for the last gyoza Clint had, just hanging out on his little plate. Clint actually caught my hand with his chopsticks, and I couldn’t help but laugh as he scowled at me and placed my hand back down on the table in front of me.

“Worth a shot,” I said and went back to my soup.

“I knew it was a trap,” Bucky muttered.

“It’s not a trap; it’s a perfect end to the meal.” Clint, though, then sized Bucky up and moved the gyoza as far from Bucky and as close to his own body as he could without dropping it on the floor. “You’re all filthy food thieves.”

Clint then raced through the rest of his meal– not that he had been taking it particularly easy, but it felt like no time at all before he was setting down his empty bowl, devouring the gyoza like an anaconda, and sitting back with a contented sigh and patting his belly. “You’re right; this place is damn good.”

I nodded, and looked at Bucky. “You like yours?”

He flicked his eyes at me but kept his head down. “S’good.”

Good enough. Clint’s phone then buzzed, and he quickly got it out and let out a little discontented grunt. I was torn between a grimace at the prospect of being alone with Bucky, and pushing Clint out the door so we could get this over with. “Gotta go?” I asked as casually as possible.

“Yeah.” And then Clint actually nudged me and waited for me to look at him before he asked, seriously, “You good?”

I blinked at the sudden sincerity. But Clint was good people, and I still wasn’t sure if he was just that high-functioning of a disaster or if some of it was an act. Either way, I knew the offer was real. “We’re good,” I said decisively. “If we’re not, either one of us will just leave.”

Clint bobbed his head in an absent nod, then stood and started digging through his pockets. Bucky was watching him, then leaned back slightly and said, “Tell Dad I’ll be home by curfew,” in a sarcastic drawl that made both Clint and I let out surprised laughs.

“I’ll tell him–” Clint said, presumably still looking for his wallet, “–just like that.”

I rolled my eyes, but after only a few more seconds of him trying to find money, I batted his arm to get his attention. “It’s payday; I’ll cover you,” I said.

He stopped fumbling, half his pocket contents in his fingers yet somehow none of it falling. “You sure?”

“It’s fine,” I said. And I meant it. I was glad Clint had come and stayed– it probably kept both me and Bucky from bolting, and that was a good thing. Even if I wasn’t looking forward to it, this conversation needed to happen.

Clint shoved everything back in his pocket, then saluted, while walking backwards. “I’ll get next time!” he said and swiftly turned, ducking under a waiter and their enormous tray so swiftly they didn’t even register the near miss before he was walking out the door.

“I’m not betting on that one,” I said, more because Clint would honestly forget than he would dodge it. Bucky snorted, and I looked at him. …And I kept looking at him. Until the first question I wanted to ask popped into my head– then I grimaced.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What?”

I let out a puff of air. This was so fucking awkward, but I had to know. “So…how many of our conversations did you actually stick around and listen to?”

He shook his head. “I sat out when they got personal,” he said and slurped some more noodles. I stared at him. He swallowed and gave me a flatly annoyed look. “Really.”

“I’d classify all of our conversations as personal,” I said. He opened his mouth but I waved my hand. “Yeah, yeah; I think I know what you mean. The more…couple-y stuff.”

His lips curled in amusement. “Yeah. Couple-y.” He shook his head and went back to his food, but he was almost laughing. “You gonna be this awkward all the time?”

“Hey, I’ve never shared a boyfriend before,” I said defensively. I stirred what was left of my soup. Mostly broth. “Give me some time; I’ll…figure it out.”

I ate some of the small broken noodles still in my bowl. “We will,” Bucky said, almost gentle, like he had been back in the hospital. I looked at him and he darted his eyes to the side. But then he flicked them right back so he was almost staring me down. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Are you?”

“You were with him first,” Bucky said and studied me.

“Technically you were. Being pulled apart by time and circumstance isn’t the same as breaking up,” I said. “But…I am okay. But only as long as you’re okay.” He opened his mouth so I rushed to add, “And I don’t mean that like, ‘oh I wanna be cool like you.’ I mean I’m genuinely okay with the idea, but if you’re not comfortable, then that’s going to put too much stress on Steve, and you, and me, and that would be too much for all of us. Yeah, I want to be with him, but…but you two have been a matched set for a very long time. If you really wanted me to, I’d…I’d step back.” God that was hard to say. But I meant it.

“I was fine on my own,” he said defensively.

I stared at him. “You’re gonna tell me you were ‘fine’ for the window of time between coming out of hellish torture and brainwashing and the moment you showed back up in Steve’s life?”

He scowled. “I got by.”

“Getting by is not being ‘fine’. And yeah, maybe Steve has nothing to do with it, but you two have been entwined since you were kids.” I kept my eyes right in his, no matter how uncomfortable it was. I didn’t want the bullshit he’d spout to Steve. I wanted the truth. “Steve’s entrenched in you. Probably as much as you are in him.”

His expression hardened. “You don’t know me.”

“That’s why I said ‘probably.’ But I do know Steve.” I sat back. “I thought about it, you know. Before Steve went looking for you, I…asked him. If he wanted to break up. He said no, that he didn’t know where your head was at, and what he wanted was for me to think about whether I could handle…” I gestured uselessly at him and me and everything. “…This.”

“Oddly sensible,” he said, chewing again. He swallowed and looked at me. “And?”

“I did think about it. I thought about Steve being with you. I thought about Steve being with both of us. I’ve thought about you not wanting anything to do with me, or being open to being friends,” I said. “In broad strokes, how I’d handle that. I can honestly say I’m fine with it. With us with Steve– the idea of it.” I leaned over the table and played idly with my chopsticks again. “Steve was the one who was less optimistic about it, actually. He wanted to find you to set questions to rest, to make sure you were going to be okay, but I don’t think he really believed you might love him like that anymore.”

Bucky snorted, and then looked a little surprised about it. I almost smiled. “He wasn’t sure if you’d be up for it, yeah,” I said. “But I know he hoped. I’ve been with Steve for a while. I know how he loves me. I know how he loves and loved Peggy. And I have seen the outlines of how much he loves you. If you can’t handle a relationship, that’s one thing, but if you back away from him because you think it’s “better” for him…” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “God, you’re both self-sacrificing assholes.”

I hadn’t meant to say that, but thankfully he barked a short laugh and didn’t look too offended. I waved my arms and looked anywhere else. “Sorry, I don’t– this is a lot more ‘emotions’ than I’m used to talking about.” I made myself face him. “But cards on the table, right? We oughtta know where we’re all coming from.”

“I just think it’s funny you call us that when you just told me you’d step back if it made Steve and I happy,” he said. “You’re the same kind of asshole.”

I scoffed, and tried not to think about that. Except… “I don’t know that it is selfless.” I swallowed. “Feels pretty selfish, actually. Because if I step back, I still get to keep part of him, rather than maybe watching him…watching it all break apart.”

That got too close to real for comfort, and I scrambled to pull out of that depressive tailspin. “I mean…” I tried for a sort of joke. “He definitely has reason to love you more.”

“It’s not ‘more,’” he said, looking at me with utmost seriousness. “It’s different. But Steve doesn’t know how to love except with his whole goddamn heart. He doesn’t love you any less than he loves me.”

I half-heartedly waved a flippant hand. “Logically I know this,” I said. “And…I don’t doubt it when he says he does. Like you said though, it’s different. Just gotta wrap my own head around it.”

“Hm.” He set his chopsticks down. “Are you gonna be able to?”

I nodded. “I will,” I said. “I get neurotic sometimes, but that won’t be your problem. I try not to make it Steve’s.” I leaned back and stretched my arm along the back of the bench. “But, he’s a nosy bastard.”

“Is that my cue?”

I jumped. Bucky snorted and flicked his eyes to the side, where Steve now stood, hands on his hips, and looking smugly proud.

“What the fuck,” I said, losing steam midway through. I was too full, and too spent.

Bucky actually turned his head and asked, “They sent you to bring me in?”

At that, Steve got a brilliant and beautiful smile. “No,” he said. “Fury says you’re ‘my problem now.’” But he then looked between the two of us– or, more accurately, between the empty seats next to either of us, like he didn’t know where to sit.

Bucky just gave me an unreadable look, so I decided to split the child. I held out my hand and said, “You're going home with him, so sit with me.”

Steve slid onto the bench on my side, and when he settled, I couldn’t help but slide my fingers over his in the space between our bodies that the table hid from sight. Well, I was going from having him all the time to having him some of the time, so I figured I’d take what I could get. Thankfully he seemed to feel similarly, and he wrapped his hand around mine and squeezed.

Bucky seemed amused as he looked at us, and at the space he surely couldn’t see. “Am I a third wheel?” he asked and glanced at me lightly.

“I wonder if I should feel like one,” I admitted and took a sip of my drink. “I don’t, though. It’s more like joint custody at this point.”

Bucky made a face. “You’re not gonna live by a schedule for all this, are you?”

He could not have made that sound more like an insult. But I didn’t get to respond– Steve started cracking up and did not stop.

“Hey,” I said, mildly affronted. Only mildly. “I can keep an appointment. Mostly. Thank you.”

Steve shook his head, put up his hands, but, perhaps wisely, said nothing. I rolled my eyes. Bucky looked a little lost between us, but the joke was old, dumb, and minor. However, it did get me thinking about how to catch him up on some stuff– some jokes that would relate to references I would inevitably make, and some stuff Steve would groan at. Not that Bucky hadn’t been well in the world for a while now, but how much had he actually tried to learn that didn’t relate to basic survival or going full Blazkowicz? Probably better not to ask.

“Hey, gimme your number,” I said and pulled out my phone. “I wanna text you dumb memes. Also, if you wanna bitch about Steve, I’m so here for it.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows but smirked and held out his hand. I handed it over.

“Wow. He gets the phone number on first meeting?” Steve said. “Should I be jealous?”

I rolled my eyes and Bucky snorted as he tapped away. “Yeah Steve, the two of us got together to hash out how much we love you just so we could dump you in a ditch and run away together,” I said.

Steve, predictably, turned red and hunched into his shoulders. “You did not spend an entire dinner talking about that,” he said, somewhat mumbling.

I gave Bucky my best ‘can you believe this asshole’ look. and took back my phone. He had put himself in with more than just his cell filled out. “You have a work number?” I asked.

“It’s more of a voice box.” He shrugged. “I don’t check it much.”

“Huh.” I skimmed through my photos and found a stupid looking cat to text him. His phone made no sound, but he pulled it out, looked at the message, and made a face.

“I don’t get the cat thing,” he said, as he started, I assumed, adding me to his contacts.

“Don’t worry. You will,” I said and put my phone away so I could finish drinking the last of my soup.

Bucky looked at Steve. “Am I going to regret this?”

“Many times,” Steve said cheerfully.

I glared at him the best I could with my face in a bowl, and I set it down to say, “You were the one being the bane of my existence after I gave you my number.”

“You made fun of me,” he said and looked away.

“Oh?” Bucky smirked at me. “For what?”

I leaned into the table. “So, Steve is pretty…chivalrous, let’s say…”

Bucky scoffed and looked at Steve. “Did you get in a fight defending a dame?”

“I wouldn’t be this embarrassed about that,” Steve said, muffled with his face in his hands. Bucky immediately looked to me, and I felt a surge of delight. Bucky was in, Steve was in, and I was in. For all of it.

~

<<Previous Chapter Next Story>>

[fanfic-scribbles]

Sleepless

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Anxiety keeps pulling you out of bed. Steve is there every time.

Quick facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, undefined anxieties, mostly non-descript but Reader is shorter than Steve, one allusion to sex.

Words: 1750

A/N: I don’t know what it is about September, but it’s like I see the end of the year coming months away and I just start dropping shit like I’m holding a hundred plates and standing on a see-saw. I need to finish a long story and start another one, and do about a million other things, but I needed a bit of unapologetic self-indulgence more, so I will deal with that later. I hope you enjoy this little one-shot <3

~

Steve is sleeping.

You should be, but you…can’t. Not for any good reason, but this happens and you’re used to it. It’s a relief that Steve is so tired he didn’t stir when you slipped out of bed, and right now you’re just quietly pacing back and forth in the living room, hoping to get tired enough to want to lie down. Work tomorrow will–

You shake your head and turn on the ball of your foot. Nothing to think about now, tomorrow will happen when it happens.

But what about that appointment you forgot to make?

You’ll make it later when you can. You’ll write a note, or ask Steve to remind you.

But what if you forget again?

You keep shooting down idle thoughts but they keep coming, one after another, some of them meaningless short-term worries, some of them larger anxieties about the world, your life, everything, that make your stomach twist and turn–

You bump into something and blink in surprise. A familiar pair of arms wrap around you and you inhale a short, startled breath, before you sigh and hug back. “I’m sorry I woke you,” you say into Steve’s chest.

“S’all right,” he mumbles, still half-asleep. Despite the lingering dread, you smile. His arms are even a little floppy, his grip on you uneven. “How long’ve you been up?”

“Not long. I just need some time to get sleepy.” You pull back and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Go back to bed. I’ll join you soon.”

He frowns in a way that pulls at your heartstrings. “I missed you,” he admits, and leans back in to nuzzle at your shoulder. “Come lay down? Maybe you’ll get tired there.”

You put your chin on his shoulder so he can’t feel you frown. You doubt it. There, it will just be so quiet and every bad thought will creep back in to eat you alive, but…Steve’s arms are so warm, and he’s so sweetly needy, and maybe you can stay, just for a little bit, until he falls back asleep. It’s hard to think of anything bad right now, at least, so maybe you’re safe for a few moments.

“Okay,” you say, and lead him back to bed, half-asleep as he is.

He curls around you there, murmurs how much he missed you, and starts telling you about his trip away. It becomes less intelligible the closer to sleep he gets, but you soak in the soothing sound of his voice and your heart stops racing as much. His arms are full around you, and his breath is warm in the crook of your neck, and when words are gone and all you know are his sleepy snuffles, you’re too comfortable to move, so you distract yourself by counting strands of his hair until the boredom gets to you. While sleep isn’t exactly restful, it at least comes to chase away the current dark.

~

Another night, another problem. Probably multiple problems, but you’re trying to push them back, sitting at the kitchen counter this time. Steve is out tonight and probably won’t be back until the morning, so that’s one less problem…and one less solution. Every now and then you can use his breathing and his touch to calm down, but you don’t have that tonight.

You meant to make some tea. Or grab some water. But you’re just sitting at the breakfast bar, head in your hands staring down at some photo on your phone you can’t even focus on. Or– did something move? Maybe it’s a video. You honestly don’t know. You keep thinking about everything. Everything going wrong, but right now, this moment is fine, for this moment you have shelter and food and it’s fine, and Steve is so good, so why can’t you just focus on what’s fine and good rather than what might go wro–

A hand sets on your shoulder and you seize up before you turn and see…Steve. Staring at you in concern.

Damn.

“Oh, hey,” you say, affecting your voice with as much normalcy as you can. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“I had enough energy to make it back.” He casts a quick glance down and so do you. Just a cat video, thank goodness. Then he’s wrapping his arms around you and pressing kisses from your shoulder to your ear, and you melt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you say honestly, because you always kind of miss him when he’s gone. Even when it’s better that he’s away, so he can’t see what a mess you are.

He leans into you for a moment, then pulls away. “Are you coming to bed?”

“Soon,” you say without thinking. You swallow. “I’m just a little hungry. I’ll have a snack and be right in.”

You’re not really, (and, in fact, are really not), but Steve accepts with a noise of affirmation. “You can bring it to bed,” he says teasingly, and nips at your earlobe.

“Steve!” But you smile despite yourself. “Maybe you should eat something instead.”

“Can I nibble on you?” he asks, and doesn’t wait for an answer. He starts kissing you again, pairing each sweep of his soft lips with a graze and light pinch of his teeth, tugging at your skin in a way that’s distracting, and only becomes more so when…

Well. It does get you to bed.

And the kisses he peppers you with after get you to relax enough to stay there, wrapped up in him, safe. For the moment.

~

You sniffle and look around. Everything is…mostly clean. Clean enough. And you can’t really do much when it’s so late that it’s far too early, so you shuffle into the kitchen and…stand there. You’re trying not to think, so you take inventory of the fridge without actually writing anything down. You shuffle things around in the corner drawer. And still there’s a nagging at the corner of your brain and a void sitting in the middle of your chest.

Steve wanders in and you realize you’re staring at the counter and not doing anything. You think maybe you should pretend to do something, but then you think you should actually do something instead of just being so damn useless–

“Hey.” Steve rests his chin on your hunched shoulder. “Can’t sleep?”

You swallow. You open your mouth. You…end up shaking your head.

He hesitates. He knows, so it’s not like you have to explain yourself, but…shouldn’t you? You don’t know. You don’t know when the apologies just become insulting, and you’re too scared to find out if you’re already there.

“I think I’d like some tea,” he says. “Would you have some with me?”

Well…your mouth is a little dry. “Yeah,” you manage to say. Only when he’s already moving to make it do you think to add, “I could–”

“I’ve got it,” he says, already at the kettle. But he smiles at you and says, “I could use your usual assistance though.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitch. A callback to one of your dates, when things were getting more serious and Steve had invited you over so he could cook for you. And was infuriatingly stubborn about not letting you help. The closest he let you get was hugging him from behind and snarking about his technique.

You shuffle over, and wrap your arms around him as he carefully moves to fill the water. “I don’t think I’ll have much to critique about this,” you say, peering over his shoulder as he pushes a couple of buttons. It’s a fancy kettle you can choose the temperature range for, and he’s set it for something delicate. Sure enough, he goes for the chamomile.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t still use the moral support,” he says and flashes you a smirk.

You snort, and pinch his stomach. “Brat.”

But you don’t have the energy to continue, and Steve doesn’t make you. You rest your head in the space between his shoulder blades and he puts his hands over yours until the little beeps start and he has to use them to prepare the tea. You focus on the sounds. Cups on the counter. Water pouring.

“Are you sleeping?” he murmurs.

“No,” you say, just as quietly. He turns in your arms, twisting his shirt, and before you can pull away he holds you with one arm (hand free of any hot liquid, thankfully,) and kisses your head.

“Maybe this will help a little,” he says, and gives you a mug with his other hand.

You take it, and meet his cup halfway with yours in a half-hearted little ‘clink.’ Maybe, you think and lean against him. Maybe.

~

You’re back to standing in the living room tonight.

Steve slips in and doesn’t say a word. He sets up the record player and music filters in slow and soft, much like the arms he puts around you before he begins to sway from side to side. The motion is soothing enough that you hold him loosely in return and unthinkingly move in time. Then– then, the tears come.

It’s quiet. Restrained. But they don’t stop, and you shove your face hard against his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you mumble against shirt and skin and muscle and heart, his heart is beating, he’s fine, you’re fine, for right now things are fine so why can’t you just–!

…Why can’t you ever just.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, barely cutting through the noise in your head that feels like a cartoon scribble etched in your brain.

You swallow more tears. They keep coming, regardless. “I woke you up.”

“I’d rather be up with you.”

“You’ll get tired. I know.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “I’m so tired.”

“Mmm,” he says. After a few moments of quiet music he adds, “I do know.” He holds you closer. “So do you. When you come to get me at the table because I can’t stop drawing up plans for worst-case scenarios my brain won’t stop thinking up. When you come to sit with me on the couch for those God-awful infomercials at three in the morning because I keep having nightmares about how everything can go so wrong so easily.” He turns his face and leans his head on yours. “I’m here. And so are you. And we’ve survived everything thus far, so we’ll keep being here.”

You rest in his arms, and breathe.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Dinner Date Chapter 43

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 43: Hospital Part 2

Chapter Summary: The incident at the hospital made a mark that can’t be ignored, but healing can be worked for. And will be, if Steve has anything to say about it.

Chapter Word Count: 7853

A/N: There are some author’s notes/housekeeping at the end of this chapter for those who are okay with me rambling. For now: this chapter has a lot of the comfort to last chapter’s hurt. Please enjoy x)

~

The next day I walked into the hospital room to see Steve sitting up, awake, and I immediately dumped my bag on the floor, sat in the chair, and flopped my upper body on top of him.

Steve didn’t react quite like I expected– I was thinking maybe some laughter, or a little annoyance, or maybe both as he patted my back or hesitantly hugged me, but no. He threw his book aside and pulled me into his arms, wrapping them around me so tightly that my stomach sank.

“Okay, who fucking ratted me out?” I grumbled, but I wiggled in closer, letting him envelope more of me. God, it felt right. “Was it Bucky? Cause I don’t care how awkward it is, I will beat up your boyfriend.”

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked.

I put my chin on his chest to face him, and whatever he saw must have answered, because he got the worried forehead crinkle. “Don’t. I’m fine,” I said. “Seriously though, who’s the rat? I’m calling security issue.”

Steve sighed my name in a very reassuring way, and I heard someone else walk over just before I turned my head to see Bucky take a seat on the other side of Steve’s bed.

“It was the bird man,” he said. “Not-arrow.”

“Oh good,” I said and relaxed my neck again to face Steve while also laying on his chest. “I can definitely kick Sam in the shins.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I had to be briefed. A Hydra agent holding my girlfriend at gunpoint is serious, even if she doesn’t think to tell me.”

I did a double-take at his hurt tone. “Hey,” I said. “I was going to tell you. Outside of the hospital when you were feeling better.”

“Were you?” Steve said like he didn’t quite believe me.

“Absolutely. I’m going to require a lot of hug therapy, and I don’t know how much you’re getting out of this–” I gestured at his arms around me, and my body half on his bed, “–but it’s too awkward to cuddle properly in a hospital bed.” The calculating look on his face made me immediately add, “And I’m not going to do that when you’re still recovering don’t you fucking dare.”

He gave me a wounded look. I folded my arms. Or, tried to. “You need to let go so I can glare at you properly.”

He responded by trying to hold me closer, which really only pushed me into the bed. Brat. But his arms were there, and he was awake, and I savored the feeling of knowing we were both– all– safe, and okay, or at least going to be okay. I could live with that.

There was movement outside the door that made me jerk away. Instinctively I looked at Bucky– or…where he had been, because the guy had well and truly vanished. Even accounting for how quiet he was, I still felt bewildered when I looked at Steve, but he smiled slightly and shook his head. He squeezed my hand, and made a point to not let go even when the door opened, and the room filled up, first with stupid get-well balloons that made me snort, (why was one a hot dog in a bikini? Truly, kitsch balloon creators were on something stronger than helium), then with Stark and the earthbound Avengers, Bruce shutting the door behind everyone before he skirted around to look at Steve’s chart.

“Well hey there, Agent,” Tony said, only slightly sarcastic, and he even looked me up and down like he was…actually making sure I was okay? I gave him a thumbs-up because I didn’t really know how to take that, and he nodded in acknowledgment. The one thing we had in common: feelings were better left unspoken. I could bond over worse things, honestly. “You filling out HR paperwork later, or do you have to arm-wrestle Fury to get in? I still don’t know if Barton was telling the truth or if he actually got Coulson play along.”

I snorted– and almost started to wonder myself– when Steve squeezed my hand and I just barely cut back on the humor when Steve aimed a dark look at Tony and said, “Glad you think my girlfriend almost dying is funny, Stark.”

Tony blinked. Then– “Okay, who told him?”

I slipped away, walked up to Sam, and kicked him in the shin.

“Hey!” he said and hopped a little as he held it. What a baby; I went way easy on him. “Someone had to tell him.”

“And I didn’t want to get kicked,” Natasha said.

“I wondered why she made us draw for it,” Sam muttered and rubbed his leg.

“Sam, I’ve kicked my TV harder than that,” I said and rolled my eyes. “You are such a big– oof!”

He got his own revenge by grabbing me in a bear hug. But I allowed it. Hugs were still okay, and Sam let me go right after. “Don’t ever scare us like that again.”

“Uhhh…” ‘Us?’ “It’s not like I told Evil Nazi Lady to pull a gun on me. I thought I was fine.”

“She was smarter than she looked,” Natasha said, almost regretfully. “But the important thing is that she still thinks you’re an agent.”

I…really didn’t like that, actually. Tony burst out laughing, and I felt like it should have been funny, but I was too worried to join in. I sat on the bed next to Steve and he took my hand. Tony, realizing he was the only one laughing, sputtered and said, “Oh come on! It’s funny!”

“It is hilarious,” I said quickly, because it truly was ridiculous, “–but I don’t really want to get pegged as a SHIELD agent either. Will that get me on a list?”

“It won’t,” Natasha said firmly. “There was no recording happening and neither she nor anyone else reported back. If anyone did– which they didn’t– they could only send a message long enough to inform their superior that the drugging didn’t work and the plan was abandoned. They wouldn’t waste time on, in their eyes, a lowly undercover operative.”

I let out a sigh of relief so big it surprised even me. Hydra knowing Steve had a dumpy girlfriend with no combat abilities and poor observational skills would be very bad. Hydra thinking I was fair game for assassinations as a SHIELD agent would also be very bad. I honestly didn’t know which was worse, so having both of them swept off the table in one was a good thing.

“Okay, now can we laugh?” Tony asked impatiently.

“Depends,” I said as I looked him up and down. Bright green palm trees on white background jacket with scrunched sleeves– why. “Are you leading a Miami Vice reboot? Because we can laugh about the neon orange shirt.”

“I’ve never seen you in a different outfit; you don’t know fashion,” Tony said and waved me off.

Clint, in my chair, kicked up his feet on the food tray and took up roasting Tony, so I didn’t resist when Steve pulled me in to lie on the bed with him, and tried not to think about his friends taking any incriminating photos of me. Steve turned his body towards me and kissed my temple, but otherwise just held me.

~

I was getting a little tired.

In general, of course– I could only go so long without real sleep and a week was pushing it, but I was also getting kind of tired of the hospital. I could only imagine how Steve was faring. He always seemed in good spirits, but sometimes he really pushed the act hard until suddenly he couldn’t hold it anymore

He appeared to be in a decent mood today; believably tired but not as moody as he could sometimes get. He was studying me a little harder, so I tried to be as blasé as possible. I looked around the room, squinted, then looked at Steve flatly and said, “Entertained anyone lately?”

I could have sworn there was a brief flush to his face, but if there was, he was getting much better at covering those involuntary expressions up, because when I really stared, his skin was its usual normal pallid under the hospital lights. “Would you be upset if I said ‘yes?’” he asked, with a little tease in his voice.

“No,” I said, pouting a little for effect.

“Really?” A smile crept onto his face. “You sound a little put-out.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be if your visitor wasn’t so chickenshit and stuck around to say hi,” I said and let my eyes glance around the room again just in case, but nothing shifted in the shadows. I sighed, but Steve looked amused. Just as I was about to ask him why–

“I’ve heard worse.”

–Bucky plopped down right next to me and I jumped out of my skin. “What the fuck!” I said, holding my heart. I smacked his arm on instinct and, thankfully, he just looked at me funny.

“I thought you knew I was here,” he said and had the nerve to look affronted.

“I hoped but I didn’t know,” I said and let my hand fall back down to my side. “Would it kill you to make a sound?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “Maybe I just wanted to see you jump for calling me chickenshit.”

I let my head fall back. God help me. “You are such an asshole.”

“He’s in good company then,” Steve said, smiling almost serenely.

“Yeah, you definitely go after your own,” I said and sat back up. Bucky snorted. He was then very quiet though, and so was Steve. I stood. “Either of you want anything from the cafeteria?”

Bucky grabbed my jacket and pulled me down. Not hard, but hard enough to make me sit. “I’ve been here for a while already; had a chance for the heart-to-heart.”

I straightened my sleeve. “But did you get the gumption to actually have it?”

He looked at me like I was a weirdo. “Gumption? I thought I was the one from the thirties.”

I glared at him and almost punched him– and then thought better of it. I was on his left. “You need to get up and move to my other side,” I said and pointed, “–so I can punch you.”

“I’m not gonna feel it any better on that arm.”

I looked at Steve and gestured at Bucky with both hands. Steve, the asshole, looked like he was in goddamn heaven. “What am I supposed to do with this.”

“If I ever find out I’ll let you know,” Steve said, grinning.

“You wanted me here,” Bucky said.

“Hey, good point,” I said. “Did you have the heart-to-heart?”

They both got very, very quiet. And I couldn’t help it– I snorted, tried very hard not to laugh, and then failed miserably. “Oh my god, did you guys just make out the entire time before I got here?!” Steve turned red. Bucky actually ducked. “Oh my god,” I wheezed, trying to be quiet.

“Sweetheart, I– we didn’t– I wasn’t–”

Oh, that was why Steve was red. I shook my head and took his hand and squeezed it, and Steve breathed a little easier. Bucky raised both eyebrows. “Do I even wanna know what you got in for with this one?” he asked, but he relaxed too, the fucking–

“Steve,” I said and cleared my throat. “Love of your life comes back from the dead. We had a– okay, maybe an abridged version of that conversation, but…” I held his hand with both of mine. “Maybe I don’t know exactly what you want, but until you tell me to kick rocks, I’m here. Okay?”

Steve nodded and squeezed my hand. Bucky looked away. “I don’t…know what I want,” he said. Steve frowned a bit, but it was his concerned-for-another-person face. That one came out a lot so I knew it well enough.

“Aside from necking in a hospital room?” I asked to avoid Steve pressing a conversation Bucky didn’t seem to want to have.

It worked. Steve rubbed his face. Bucky looked at me, and then at Steve. “Never mind.” He pointed at me. “I want to throw her out the window.”

Well…that was fair. “You’d be surprised at how often I inspire that in people.”

He gave me a very unimpressed look. “No, doll, I don’t think I would.”

~

The visit was…fine. Bucky fell silent but Steve talked as though it didn’t matter that he was there, and so I followed his lead. Eventually Bucky left and Steve and I fell into a comfortable silence.

“You look tired,” he said lightly.

I shrugged. “Been staying up a little too late,” I said as nonchalantly as possible.

“Doing what?”

I almost shrugged again, but he was watching me, and that felt…suspicious. “This and that. Nothing important; just not keeping a good sleep schedule. You know.”

“Hmm.” He touched lightly under my eyes. “You should get to bed early tonight. You look exhausted.”

I swallowed, and hoped the fact that I was resting my chin on my hands on his bed hid the motion. Honestly, I could have fallen asleep right then and there, but it really would have made Steve worry, and it would have been embarrassing, if his doctor or nurse or some SHIELD stranger walked in. Or Tony. Oof. “Trying to get rid of me?” I asked and tried to keep my own tone light, but given he wouldn’t still be in the hospital without reason, I sat up and checked the clock. It had been a few hours.

“I don’t want to,” Steve said and slipped his hand into mine. “But I’ll be checking out first thing tomorrow morning.”

That perked me up. No more of this fucking hospital, hoo-ray. “Really?”

He nodded and looked fed up and relieved all at once. “I told them they better have the paperwork ready by eight, because I will be gone by then whether they like it or not,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Okay,” I said. I tried to will some energy back into me for the inevitable trip home. But he did need the rest, still. Probably. As heavy as I felt, it was nothing compared to being pumped full of poison. “Um…you’ll probably want to spend some time with Bucky, but…maybe some time this weekend I could–”

“I’ll pack a bag and probably be at your apartment before you get home from work tomorrow,” Steve said. He made a face. “Unless there are briefings.” He straightened out again. “Actually, I’ve given at least three; anything else can wait another day.”

“Okay. Okay!” That downright lifted me. If any SHIELD agents came to the door I would be taking a bat to their kneecaps. “I don’t have much food so you’ll have to order in.”

“Oh no; I’ll have to get takeout? And I was so looking forward to finishing off my MREs,” Steve said, so faux-woeful I laughed.

“I’m not even going to ask what hellish cuisine you’ve been partaking in while you’ve been gone.” I couldn’t resist, and leaned over to kiss him. I then stood up, suddenly filled with a burst of energy. “I’ll clean up; make it nice and cozy for you.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said firmly. He then ruined it by adding, “If you leave your laundry on the couch, it’ll just be extra cushioning.”

“Yeah, until you lay just the wrong way and one of my bra hooks digs into a soft spot in your back,” I said and started packing up my bag.

“I wouldn’t mind filtering out some of your bras,” Steve said innocently.

I snorted, and leaned over him again. “You get rid of my bras and you’ll have to go shopping for them with me,” I threatened him, and gave him one more kiss.

He frowned, squinting his eyes. “That sounds like it should be more fun than you imply it is,” he said suspiciously. “So that must be a trap.”

“Smart man. Finding a comfortable bra can be an hours-long exercise in misery.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Get some rest.”

“You too,” he said pointedly.

I didn’t answer; just dimmed the lights on my way out as he shimmied down into bed, and breathed a sigh of relief that soon everything would be back to normal.

~

I, surprise, surprise, did not get rest. I went home and started cleaning immediately. Or at least– I tried. It was the clearest moment of ‘the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak’ I’d had in a very long time. I was so tired that even bending over was sometimes an exercise in doing my best to maintain balance. I picked up, I half-heartedly wiped down surfaces, until at last I gave up on the idea of making anything truly nice, and focused, instead, on trying to make everything as comfy as I possibly could. I threw Steve’s pillows into the dryer to get some body back. I manually fluffed the couch cushions and pillows. I changed out the blankets I had thrown over the couch and chair and bed. It was probably not enough, but it did look nicer, if not entirely nice.

But nice enough that I stood in my bedroom doorway, just staring at the bed. As fucking exhausted as I was, it should have been the most tempting thing in the world. Except I knew, once I was in it, I was just going to toss and turn and mess it all up without getting more than an hour at a time. It looked so good, I should save it, I thought, turning to leave. Save it for when I was truly too tired to do anything but throw myself on top of it and pass out for hours. Hopefully without dreams–

Someone was in my living room. A tall body, and I came to a sudden stop, frozen in absolute terror with a scream stuck in the base of my throat. It was a testament to how fucking braindead I was that it took me several, several seconds to recognize my own fucking boyfriend.

And Steve noticed and looked way too concerned, saying my name in the most soothing tone I’d ever heard from him, followed by, “Sweetheart, it’s–”

“Steve,” I gasped like an idiot and looked him over. He seemed all right, but– “I thought– I thought you were going to be in the hospital for longer; what are you– did I miss–”

He surged forward and hugged me, and some tears slipped out of my eyes and fell in his shirt. I tried to hold back, but it felt so good to be able to cling to him again. “Steve…”

“I’m mostly all right. And I’ve had a long week.” He kissed my head. “So I changed my mind and treated myself to a little jailbreak. I’m so sorry I scared you.”

“Oh my god, you–” I felt him over as well as I could. “You jerk; if you– if something happens, or you pass out–”

“Nothing bad is going to happen,” he said. “Bucky wouldn’t have let me out of his sight if I was really in a bad way.”

That was…comforting. And annoying. “Your boyfriend is a bad influence.”

“Other way around.”

“Hm.” I held him so tight. I probably shouldn’t have, but it felt so good to have him here, in my apartment, in my arms. So fucking good…

“If I ask how you’re feeling, are you just going to tell me you’re fine?” he asked.

I thought about it. “Yes.”

He sighed, but he kissed my head. “At least you’re honest about it.”

I shrugged. “Fine has…scales,” I said. I swallowed. “Sometimes fine is fine. Sometimes fine is…‘I can’t.’”

He rubbed my back. “I understand that,” he said softly. He pulled (gently pried) himself away from me, and studied me. Too much.

“I made the bed nicer,” I offered weakly.

“That sounds great,” he said. “Why don’t we wind down in front of the TV for a little bit, then go to bed when you’re too tired to think about it?”

I was too tired to think of anything at the moment, but spending some actual time with him was too tempting to resist. Also…maybe he was right in that I very much did not want to see my bed again just yet.

So we settled in on the couch. I tried to be careful, not sure if anything that had happened had made him sore, or caused anything to heal slower, or whatever, but he adjusted me as easily as ever, and when I was finally cuddled up just right, I couldn’t help the stream of tears that flowed out. Probably more from exhaustion, but given I was too tired to properly regulate my emotions, that…didn’t help. Especially as we flipped through programs and I flinched, actually, physically, every time there was an explosion or a siren or any sign of weapons or conflict. That was going to narrow things down a hell of a lot, and it was awkward being this close to Steve, when I knew he was aware of everything that was going on with me, even if I kept my head ducked down against his chest.

After a few minutes he turned off the TV and set the remote aside. “I have an idea,” he said. “We’ll have to get into bed for it.”

I perked up. “What kind of idea?” I said as obnoxiously flirtatious as possible, even though I was so not in the mood. But maybe some making out would fix that…

“Maybe some other night for that.” Steve gave me a quick kiss, but he shifted and I took the hint and got up. He stood and slipped his hand into mine. “But I have something else in mind.”

I got ready and got into bed, and blinked my tired eyes furiously to try and seem more awake than I was while I waited for Steve to do the same. I almost wished heavy eyelids translated into actual sleep, but experience told me it was more likely to imply utter boredom from being conscious but also unable to do anything. Also, some moments of brief but intense terror whenever my neighbor knocked into their wall, or there was a shout from the sidewalk.

Steve came out of the bathroom in a pair of sweats and tight t-shirt he kept here. I watched him as he walked over to me, and I was so focused on his stride and how steady he seemed, I completely missed that he had something in his hand until he stood on his side of the bed and held up…

…a book.

It took me a few seconds, but once it clicked, I let out a little laugh. “You gonna read me a bedtime story?” I teased and held open the sheets as he shimmied in.

“Why not? It was really nice when you did it for me,” he said, smiling proudly. It was the first book I had read to him– I’d thought it was so nice I went and bought my own copy. He was propped on his pillows, but since I wasn’t reading, I slunk down and tried not to let my eyes close completely. But as his voice started a gentle drone of familiar words, I just couldn’t help myself…

I woke up crying and had to immediately muffle my sobs. The room was completely dark, but my clock showed it was only under two hours later. But the nightmare, while the details were hazy and fuzzy, the feeling of it somehow stayed so full in my head I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to sleep. I turned to see Steve sleeping and, unable to stop myself, I reached over and felt his head. Whole. Warm. He was okay, he was okay…

He mumbled my name sleepily and started to stir. “Go back to sleep,” I whispered and wrapped around him in a hug before he could see me. Despite knowing he was fine, I still let my hand glide through his hair and over his skin.

He wrapped his arms around me and nestled his head where I held it against my chest. “You too,” he said stubbornly, but he was so tired he was already slipping away.

“I will,” I said, and stayed awake until exhaustion pulled me back under.

~

When I got home the next day after work, practically dragging myself in the door, I was mildly surprised to see Steve still there. He hadn’t been sure he wouldn’t get called into SHIELD directly, but no– he was sitting on my couch in his normal clothes, looking very awake and alert. Almost uncomfortably so, as he looked me up and down. “Hey,” I said and tried to perk up as I turned to lock the door. I was the kind of tired where I almost felt like crying every minute or so, and I did my best to suck it all back before I faced him again. “Didn’t have to go in after all?”

“Natasha came by. Said it could wait a few days,” he said. He opened his arms. “Come here?”

“Just a minute. Gonna– put away my lunchbox,” I said and went to the kitchen. It gave me another excuse to turn away and blink furiously a few times. I had to be okay, I had to be okay, I had to…

Once that was done, I begged off to my room to change. I didn’t even let myself look at the bed. Wasn’t like it was doing me much good– and I wanted to be where Steve was, anyways. Though when I came out, to eyes that looked over me like he was seeing more than I was showing, I was a little less eager. Only a little, though, as when he opened his arms again, I practically dove in. Just as I started to get a good snuggle on, though, I remembered something.

“Did Bucky come by?” I asked and looked at Steve.

He shook his head. “He texted. Said there were some things he needed to take care of,” he said. He pulled me closer, and I went willingly, now content that I wasn’t blocking Steve from anything that needed doing. It was so warm, and comfortable, and comforting…

A gun firing startled me awake. It was disorienting– not only had I not noticed I had fallen asleep, but I also didn’t know if the shot was in my head or–

More shots fired. From the TV. It was barely a fucking whisper, and yet…

I let out a shaky breath and rested my head on Steve’s shoulder. I was so, so tired.

“You should sleep more,” Steve said. He brushed his hand over my face. “I’m worried about you. I’m fine, I’m home, nobody from Hydra knows about you. We’re all right.”

“I know,” I said and pushed my face hard into his shoulder.

He sighed. Not fed up, thankfully, but– “Sweetheart, please talk to me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“I doubt that,” he said gently and kept rubbing my shoulder.

“Can we…” I blinked, trying to stave off the tears. I failed, naturally. “…Can we watch something that doesn’t have guns?”

He stopped. “Oh.” He clicked off the TV. “Oh. Sweetheart, I’m so–”

“It’s fine, it’s stupid, it’s fine,” I said and rubbed my face. I scrabbled for the remote, but he pulled it up and away.

“No, I think we need to talk about this,” he said.

“Noooo,” I fake-wailed, but that was not even spirited enough to be half-hearted, and I slumped against him. He was quiet, and my stomach churned. I felt so bad all around, that internally I just…gave up on pretending anymore. Not that I was any fucking good at it in the first place, apparently.

“So: guns.”

He didn’t say anything else. I tilted my head further down. “They suck. Next question.”

“Hm,” he said. “Have you been having nightmares about the Hydra agent?”

I held up my hand and tilted it from side-to-side. Only sometimes. And then, you couldn’t really have nightmares if you weren’t fully sleeping. So really, only sometimes of sometimes.

“Is that why you checked my head the other night?”

I nodded. Not that it did much good when he couldn’t see me, but maybe he got the feel of it by the way he crushed me closer. I didn’t mind. That sounded like a good way to go. “I understand– God, you have no idea how much I understand. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve woken up and had to check on you, or had to resist the urge to run over here and check on you.”

That made me perk up. “Really?” I started to lift, but our angle meant I had to pull myself from his grip a little. “You’ve never told me that.”

His smile was a little sad, a little sardonic. “You’re right. Maybe I should have.” He gently brushed under my eyes. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to be alone with this.”

I blinked away more forming tears. “You were just in the hospital,” I mumbled. I swallowed back something bitter. “They were trying to take you.” And I had almost let them. Not on purpose, but she would have waltzed in with only Bucky to challenge her and maybe she would have been on guard and they could have called their losses and she would have raised her gun and–

I gripped Steve too tight and buried myself in him. “They almost got you,” I said. “They almost got you because I didn’t say shit when I should have; they almost got you and it would’ve been my fault if they had.”

“Not your fault.” Steve hugged me tighter. “Phil told me everything. Including how hard you pushed him beforehand. You did everything you could; nobody knew what they were up to. Bucky would have crushed the IV himself if he had.”

“Bucky’s in a weird place right now. But I fucking knew something wasn’t right and I didn’t…fight about it. I should’ve made it a fight and I didn’t. I’m sorry. I should’ve–” I should have fought for you, I thought and swallowed more tears. Because he would have fought for me. But I sniffled and tried to get myself together. “And now I’m being a fucking baby about it, about everything, even though no one else would fucking blink at this–”

“Sweetheart, anybody would,” he said, hard and fast like he was drawing a line. “I do rescue operations all the time; I’m not a therapist but I see trauma reactions and, yes, being held hostage is fucking traumatic. Okay?”

He actually waited, and I had to concede. “Okay,” I said softly.

“I get if you’re looking at us, but we are not normal,” he said. “We’re also trained for this sort of thing. I know how to disarm someone. So does Sam. Natasha. Clint…”

“Okay, okay,” I said. I rubbed my face. “Maybe I don’t have the…most realistic role models.” I sniffled again and wiped the last traces of tears away. “I still feel stupid about it.”

He gently inclined his head, like he didn’t agree but he didn’t want to fight. “I know how you are with feelings, but I can get you a number for someone to talk to. If you’re willing.”

I thought about it, until I realized it was hard to think of anything at all. “I’ll get back to you.” I rubbed my eyes again, this time just out of exhaustion. “Fuck I’m tired. I might actually sleep tonight.”

Steve stood, and held his hand to me. “Let’s give it a shot.”

~

I slept.

When I woke to my alarm, I was actually surprised it was already morning. I still felt plenty tired, but more normal tired. Like I had just stayed up too late, but with some extra caffeine I could probably get through the day all right.

Steve scooped me back onto his chest and I let myself take in the grounding comfort of feeling him nuzzle my shoulder. “Do you need to call out today?” he asked.

“No, I can make it. Co-worker’s out on vacation; I’ll be just be making shit worse if I don’t keep up on it,” I sighed. I suddenly stopped and looked back. “But it wouldn’t be the end of the world. If you need me, I’ll stay.”

He studied me, but smiled and shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he said, and sat up. “Let’s get you out the door.”

We did. Mostly. Steve was kind of a jerk about it, but he did help (again, mostly) me get ready, to the point where, after a whirlwind of activity, I was just about to leave after my ‘get the hell out’ alarm had rung, and had to stop. I looked around my apartment, then looked at Steve, and tried to figure out how to phrase this right.

“What’s wrong?’ he asked, face tightening.

“I don’t want Bucky dropping in until I’ve had a chance to clean better,” I said.

Steve actually had to stop and parse my words. He tried to stamp down on a smile, but only partly succeeded. “Why would he stop by here?” he asked.

I gestured at him, because honestly. “I don’t think he’ll stay away from you for that long,” I said. “And I’m trying to make a good impression here.”

Steve did snort then. “Sweetheart, he already threatened to throw you out of a window.”

I flapped my hand dismissively. “That’s my personality. Can’t fix that. But I don’t want him thinking I’ve subjected you to slop and filth.”

“Are you trying to make a good impression on Bucky, or do you think he’s going to come in like CPS?” Steve asked dryly.

I pointed at him. “A little mess is whatever. I don’t want to be judged for this week in particular.” My final final alarm rang, and I quickly swiped it away before aiming my finger at him again. “No hanky-panky with the Other Man until I’ve changed the sheets!” I paused. “Well, actually–”

“Have a nice day at work, sweetheart,” Steve said flatly, in his ‘I’m saving you from yourself’ voice. He then…suspiciously…looked around, and I had a different concern.

“That doesn’t mean you clean it up, Mr. Hospital-run-away!” I said as I quickly grabbed my bag and lunch.

“You’re going to be late,” Steve said, and in one moment he was giving me a sweet, lingering kiss…

…And the next he was pushing me out the door and closing it firmly behind me. I was torn between annoyance at being kicked out of my own home, and concern that he was going to take matters into his own hands, but if I was late to work because of this, I really was going to kill him, so I cursed and hurried on my way.

~

I returned to a clean apartment and scowled at Steve.

“Consider it an apology,” he said and came up to kiss me. “I need to ask a favor.”

That almost turned my frown upside-down. Steve never asked for favors. Or at least, not often enough. “What do you need?”

He smiled sweetly. “Tony’s throwing a little party tomorrow–”

“Uuuugggghhhhh.” I slumped in his arms. “Wouldn’t you rather have my kidney? I’ve got some booze and a new sharp knife; we can do it right now…”

Steve huffed a laugh but he held me in his arms. It felt really nice. While I wasn’t ‘puddle on the floor’ exhausted anymore, one night of sleep did not magically fix me. I forced myself to stand; if I went down for the night now, I wasn’t getting back up.

However, Steve had other ideas. “We’ll see how you feel when you wake up tomorrow,” he said. “For tonight we’re going to eat dinner, and then we’re going to bed.”

That sounded really nice. But I squinted at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”

He smirked. “If I let you go right now, would you even stay standing?”

I huffed and head-butted him. It was pretty pathetic. “If I couldn’t go, would you go to the party without me?” I asked as I mustered the strength to pull away from him and start unpacking from the work day.

“If that’s okay,” he said. “All my friends are going to be there, and it…sounds like fun.”

I rolled that over in my head. It did sound surprisingly okay. “First, you never need my permission to do stuff you want to do,” I said as I put my icepacks away. I slammed the freezer shut and faced him. “Second…let me see how I’m feeling in the morning. I do hope I feel good enough for it. But even if I’m really not up to it, I want you to go.”

He shrugged lightly. “I’d feel bad going without you,” he said. “If it makes a difference, we don’t have to be there too long.”

“I’ll probably take you up on that anyways.” I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around him. “If I sleep like last night, it’ll probably be do-able. Just…”

“We’ll see.” He wrapped his arms around me and leaned in to give me a quick kiss. “For now, let’s wind down.”

~

It wasn’t perfect, but it worked well enough– also, the party was in the late afternoon, allowing me to hum and haw and get a couple of short dozes in so that I decided, yes, I could absolutely deal with Tony long enough to get free food. Also, if he got annoying enough and I timed it just right, I could probably dare Natasha to taze him or something.

“Natasha,” Steve said seriously, marching right up to her. She looked pretty casual, so at least my idea of ‘the nicest clothes I have that aren’t fancy but are clean’ seemed more tenable. “Under no circumstances are you to accept or entertain a bet or dare that she–” he pointed at me like I was a guilty defendant and I tried to look as innocent as possible, “–gives you.”

Natasha clucked her tongue and looked at Steve, unimpressed. “You’re not the boss of me right now, Rogers.”

He stood tall against the crashing waves of her apathy. “Abrud.”

Now she looked more incredulous. “You’re calling in a favor for this?”

He folded his arms. I rolled my eyes. “He’s overreacting,” I said. “Like, tasing Tony wouldn’t give him a heart attack or anything, would it?”

She rolled her eyes too and said, ‘innocently,’ “Tasers are illegal in New York.”

It was my turn to be very unimpressed. “Lady, I’m pretty sure you’re illegal in New York.” For probably the same set of reasons, if not more.

“How dare you. My papers are pristine,” she said so primly that I knew I would have to ask for that story later. But she dropped the act and told Steve, “Fine; no bets or dares from your partner today.”

He sighed. “Good enough.” As Thor and Darcy called out to him in unison and he turned, Clint popped up from a chair just slightly obscured by hers, grinning, and mouthed at me, ‘I. Promise. Nothing!’

I grinned back and reached over to accept the high-five in the true gremlin spirit in which it was offered. “How are you feeling?” Clint asked normally and sat up.

“I’m fine,” I said. Only somewhat obfuscating– I was going to be fine, so I was just…front-loading, for now.

“Already anticipating Tony though,” Natasha said, eyeing me.

“I like him fine, but sometimes he is a lot,” I said. In my defense, I added, “Also I was planning to make it really, really funny timing-wise.” I looked at Steve as he slid his arm around me again, and became too aware of my empty hands. “I can’t believe I let you drag me to a party without bringing anything.” Not that I was a social butterfly worthy of Miss Manners, but that chafed.

“I’m saving you from Tony’s inevitable scorn. Even Sam doesn’t bring things anymore,” Steve said.

“That man does not deserve my amazing cooking,” Sam himself said as he approached from the elevator. He hugged me first and I felt maybe a little smug about it.

So of course I ruined it. “You cook?” I asked incredulously instead of anything a friend might say like, ‘hi’ or ‘how are you.’

“I got hobbies,” Sam said, utterly unaffected by my lack of manners. “If you don’t cook, though, what would you have brought?”

“Something tasty that someone else made, obviously,” I said, and relaxed a little as Sam hugged Steve and gave him a little once-over. It was nice that he remembered who had actually been hospitalized. But then he looked at me and I tried to seem as calm and cool and blasé as possible. Sam snorted, and I reached out to jab his side, but he slid away. When he did, I saw someone else approaching from that side– two someones.

Pepper and Tony really did seem the picture-perfect example of ‘power couple,’ even when they were just at a small hangout. Pepper looked fab as always, but Tony was also equally well dressed; casual enough for the get-together, but still quite fashionable, in a (sadly) tasteful way, colored in boring creams and some splash of grey-blue.

“Aw,” I said once he got close enough to hear me. “No more Miami Tony?”

Darcy, even while still over doing whatever sciency-looking thing with Jane and Thor (and booze? Was that a fucking sill?), appreciated my humor at least, even if Stark just gave me a stinkeye over the tops of his glasses. “You’re uninvited.”

“She is not,” Pepper said, swooping up to approach me with her arms open. Hugs were awkward, but I did my best and she even gave me a little squeeze, so I must have done a good job. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too,” I said, because even if I didn’t get why she was being so effusive about it, Pepper was good people and I liked her.

I had my answer for the ‘why’ when she held me at arms-length and gave me a real once-over. I shot Sam a dirty look but he put up his hands, shook his head, and stepped back. I let myself be examined, and she smiled at the end of it. “I heard you saved Steve,” she said gently.

My head jerked so suddenly, and of its own accord, I nearly gave myself whiplash. “Someone’s been telling tales,” I said dryly, and I didn’t bother looking at Tony, because no way would he– but who had told her that? Maybe better left a mystery. “No, uh…nothing like that.”

“Well, you were the first one of us who knew who the Hydra agent was,” Natasha drawled like she was maybe coming around to it. “And you refused to leave Rogers until one of us knew.”

Steve squeezed my hand. I definitely didn’t look at him. But I did keep hold of him. “Bare minimum,” I said. “However, I very heroically did not cry. Does that count? Do I get hero points for that?”

“I dunno,” Clint said thoughtfully. “I took a trainee out in the field once and he covered half a unit while sobbing.”

I looked at him askance. “How did he see his targets?”

“That’s the creepy thing– full hiccups, panting, all the sounds you’d think of, but no tears,” Clint said and popped open a can. “Kinda freaky. Hell of a shot though.”

I inclined my head in acknowledgement, because it certainly did sound impressive. Sam brought over a couple of drinks, and I let go of Steve’s hand so I could open mine. “Thanks,” I said as we all moved over to some seating.

“Food’ll be here soon,” Tony said, lounging on one of the chairs and making room for Pepper to join him. He saw me looking and gestured down at his body. “Does this meet your sense of fashion, Miss Wintour?”

“Kinda boring,” I admitted. “I actually did like that outfit. Neon 80’s is in, isn’t it?”

“It’s fluorescent 90’s now.” Tony snapped his fingers. “Get with the times.”

“Right. Let me get with the times and step into the 90’s.” I rolled my eyes. “Do you listen to yourself?”

“I try not to.”

“That’s fair,” I said and held up my drink as if to toast. “Same!”

He rolled his eyes– now that, that was something he was so effortlessly good at that I was actually kind of jealous. “Food’s being brought up by my people, eff why eye,” he said, pronouncing everything as obnoxiously as possible as he looked at me and Steve sitting together. “After they leave, though, it’ll be back to just us.”

“Thanks,” I said and scooted away, just to prepare. Steve gave me a sad look, and I laughed and pushed at his chest.

“You can sit with me,” Sam teased.

“Ooo, can I?” Clint said and slid into Sam’s lap, making Sam gasp and lay his head back dramatically as if he had suffered a grievous crushing blow.

“You’re getting off easy with him instead of me,” I said and took a long drink. Bruce came up then, and Sam managed to push Clint off the chair with enough of an element of surprise that Clint actually fell on his ass on the ground.

The afternoon sort of…devolved from there. In a good way. There was laughing, and drinking, and I wasn’t ‘apart’ from Steve for long, as the second the last stranger left and the door was shut behind them, he pulled me into his lap so smoothly I didn’t spill even a drop of my drink. Thor and Sam told stories; Pepper shared her supposedly mundane week which Tony then made hilarious with color commentary. There was good food and drinks, and even though I didn’t participate that much, I still felt…included; wrapped up in this gathering, so much so that I didn’t even look at the clock.

I thought about Bucky. Worried about him. I hoped he was safe, wherever he was, and had access to good food, even though I could only imagine even a small gathering like this might be overwhelming for the poor guy. But…maybe, in time. Maybe I could sit on one side of Steve and he could be on the other. Maybe it was silly to think of, when he and Steve had yet to work anything out, but…I was actually, honestly hopeful about the future. I was still kicking, and Bucky was around, and Steve was still wonderfully himself. Past that, we could figure it out. I believed that.

~

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A/N: Elephant in the room addressed: this is the second-to-last chapter of this particular story– but this story is not the last for these characters/world/etc and there will be a third. (Tentatively titled “Second Helpings.”) I’m sorry for the lack of warning; I was waffling quite a bit on how much to include in this versus the next story, and I think I found a decent breaking point. Bucky’s back, and it feels appropriate that his arc gets its own focus. I’ll hopefully have more to say on the matter next month with the next chapter; at the very least, a finalized story title. I do think “Second Helpings” is cute and on theme but I don’t know, is that weird for the *third* story? Much to think about. Until next time! <3

[fanfic-scribbles]

Dinner Date Chapter 42

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 42: Hospital Part 1

Chapter Summary: Steve being in a bad way is, sadly, not an uncommon occurrence. Unfortunately, the day only gets worse from there.

Chapter Word Count: 7661

Chapter Warnings: Peril, some gun violence

A/N: Oof, this chapter got so long I had to split it up; I think it ended up being around 14k-ish with both parts one and two together and I’m sorry but I don’t love that for chapter length. Please forgive me <(_ _)> There’s no real cliffhanger, but I’m still hoping to get part 2 out soon (no later than a week). For now…please enjoy! >=3

~

To be fair, Steve did come home.

Just not quite how I wanted him to.

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. He was fine, everyone said, and, indeed, looked mostly uninjured despite being in a hospital bed. I had certainly seen him worse off. It was just that he was also very, very unconscious– not in a deathly way, but in such a complete and utterly still way that set me on edge. His breathing, his vitals, all fine, but something about this was off, even accounting for the apparent Hydra drug trap he had inadvertently stepped into.

I crossed my arms and tried not to radiate bitch energy, considering it was just me and Phil in the room, and it wasn’t like it was his fault, but this whole thing felt weird and it bothered me that Phil just told me what the doctors told him and left it at that. At the moment he was busy fiddling with his phone and tablet, dealing with some sort of SHIELD emergency, and because of that, I tried to give him grace.

…I tried. I bit my tongue for several minutes, and then I just couldn’t anymore. “Phil, are you sure this is–”

“We’ve had multiple doctors look him over, I promise he’s going to be fine,” Phil said, sounding tired. I sighed but shut my trap again. He packed his things, but he walked over to me and even gave my shoulder a few brief, reassuring pats. “They’re on it.”

‘They’ being Natasha, Sam, Clint, and even Bruce and Tony. None of whom I had seen, because they were too busy doing various things– at least one of those being trying to find an antidote or something to wake Steve up faster even though the doctors (multiple, apparently,) were pretty convinced he’d wake up on his own. And it wasn’t like I knew shit; it should have been reassuring that he was going to be fine, and that he was probably getting more sleep than he’d ever had in his life.

Still.

“Sorry Phil,” I said and looked away. At Steve. “Are there visiting hours I have to worry about?”

“I’ll make sure they know you have full access at all hours,” he promised.

Probably just because I had been so snippy. But honestly– I’d take it. Until Natasha came in to literally kick some sense into my ass, I wasn’t going to be leaving. “Thanks Phil,” I said, and waved in response to his brief goodbye. So brief he probably didn’t even see the gesture, but it didn’t matter. I leaned on one arm and just watched Steve for a while. That was probably a bad idea, given that watching him hadn’t done anything other than agitate me so far, but it was good to watch his chest rise and fall.

The door opened and I sat stiff at an unfamiliar voice going, “Oh,” but a doctor walked in and gave me a tight smile. She wasn’t his normal doctor, and I didn’t want to snap at a stranger, so her greeting passed right by me as I zoned out, and all I managed was a brief nod in reply.

“You must be the operative Agent Coulson told us would be staying with Captain Rogers.”

That got my attention, and I just barely caught myself from making a derisive snort. Had Coulson really passed me off as a SHIELD agent? That didn’t seem like something he would do, but– honestly, whatever got me my access and permission to stay. The doctor looked at me from fussing with the IV bag, and I feigned the politest smile I could before I pulled out my phone and pretended to be texting just to avoid any conversation. She puttered about the room, and I felt her glance at me a few times, but thankfully she didn’t try to make conversation.

“I’ll be back later,” she said when she was done doing whatever.

I nodded once, and, thankfully, she left. Once the door was solidly shut, I let out a big sigh of relief. I slipped my phone away again and leaned in my chair closer to Steve. I put my hand on his arm. Warm and alive and breathing. He was going to be fine. He was. As I lifted my head, though, I suddenly jerked back.

Bucky stood there.

He looked quite unlike any photo I had seen of him, and yet was completely recognizable, even with the long hair and modern clothes. He was also so much bigger than I expected– the bulk was probably a serum thing too, but somehow Steve never looked quite so intimidating.

He held up his arm, and had his gloved hand open in a ‘stop’ motion. “Don’t yell,” he said, not threatening, but serious.

I swallowed the urge to do just that. If he tried to tell me to get away from Steve I was going to be in big trouble when he realized I wasn’t fucking going anywhere. As much as I wanted Steve to be right about him, I had no idea where Bucky’s head was at, whether he saw me as a threat or not, and I really, really hated being virtually alone in the same room as him. He didn’t move towards me, didn’t make any actually threatening moves, but there was a hard look to his eyes as he looked from me, to Steve, to me again.

God I hoped Steve was right about him.

“Has the doctor seen you two together?”

It came as such a non-sequitur to my internal panic that it honestly took me a couple of seconds to understand what he meant. “Uhhh…you mean, as a couple?”

The impassive look on his face broke just slightly to show a bent of ‘are you seriously that stupid,’ which was as comforting as it was insulting. It made him look more human– but also, hey. “That question is out of left field,” I said. Maybe too defensively, but he didn’t seem bothered by my tone, at least.

“Not if you think about it,” he said.

He silently waited for the few seconds it took me to connect the dots and my stomach churned at the obvious implication. “Fuck.” When he cleared his throat though I jolted. “N-no, I don’t think so. Steve and I aren’t big on…uh…” Was it awkward to be discussing your comfort level of PDA with your boyfriend’s maybe-ex, definitely-still-assassin boyfriend? I felt like I transcended whatever level of embarrassment might have come with whatever that was. “We’re private.”

“Good,” he said simply.

“So the sleeping thing…”

“Should have lifted by now,” he said flatly. He looked away. “Romanova is good. She’ll find what they need to pull him out.” He looked at me. “The SHIELD doctors are fine. It’s the one here– and she hasn’t been alone with him.” He squinted at something by Steve, but before I could ask him what, he snapped his head towards the door, and then moved quickly back to the window. Before he left, he looked at me with an intensity that made me flinch. “Leave. We will handle this.”

And then he was gone. Just a couple of seconds later there was a brief knock, and then a bunch of people entering. I heard the doctor speaking with Phil and I tried not to let it show how much I wanted to throttle her.

Natasha breezed past me and walked around the other side of Steve’s bed. Her face was almost as hard as Bucky’s had been, and she looked around with an expression that felt like a cat raising their fur at an intrusion on their territory. Or maybe I was projecting. Clint came up behind her and whispered something that she–

“Ma’am? You need to leave for a little while.”

That fucking doctor. Or rather, “doctor.”

And she was right behind me.

My throat went dry, I didn’t know what to say that would keep us all safe, but I was not, not leaving Steve alone with her. I looked around, but nobody was looking at me. Natasha was closest to what I needed, starting for the door, her face only half-turned away, and I stared at her as hard as I could from the sides of my eyes. Thank fuck her preternatural senses tingled and she looked at me, and her face went expressionless as she swung in behind Clint, who stopped moving but did not look at me.

I kept my face away from the woman as much possible while conversely trying to show Natasha as much of myself as I could. ‘Doctor. Hydra,’ I mouthed as clearly as possible. I was so scared I could almost feel how pathetic I looked. Natasha gave me only a slight nod and her lips moved in something I couldn’t understand. I realized I wasn’t supposed to, though, when Clint rolled his shoulders, and they walked forward together.

I stayed where I was. An unfamiliar hand set upon my shoulder and I tried not to react physically when the “doctor” said, “I’m sorry, but we need the room clear.”

I swallowed a lump growing in my throat, but as much as I didn’t want to leave Steve alone, it really was better if I skedaddled. Natasha would watch for him. Bucky would watch for him. “Okay,” I said and stood.

And suddenly found myself pulled back against a body with an arm across my throat and something heavy and hard at my temple.

Guns cocked, the door slammed shut, and I found myself unable to grasp exactly what was happening. It didn’t feel real, even though I very much felt all of it, but the sight of Phil, Natasha, and Maria all pointing guns at me brought me back to the fact that it was really, terribly real, and then I just felt sick. Granted they weren't meant for me, but it was hard to argue which one of us would get the most bullets in a fire fight. Clint was gone– he must have been the source of the door slamming shut.

“SHIELD has gotten better at hiding their agents in plain sight these days,” the “doctor” growled and made it just so slightly harder to breathe. “I almost didn’t make her.”

I blinked at the insinuation that– but then Natasha glared at me so hard I stopped even thinking about decent comebacks. Instead, I let my eyes go to Steve, still and silent and sleeping. He was still sleeping.

No, not normal or ‘fine’ at all. I blinked away tears. What did they do to him? Did they care if whatever the fuck dosage they gave him put him in a coma for the rest of his life? What if it was too late to pull him out? I wanted him to wake up.

I wanted him to tell me we were going to be okay.

“Weapons down,” the Hydra agent snapped and I swallowed hard at the subtle press of the gun against my head. But they all, slowly, hesitating with every second, did as she said. “Now put them away, get your hands up, and back out of the room, one by one, slowly.”

“Your op is over,” Phil said, calm in a very detached way. “You’re not making it out of this.”

“Then neither is she,” Hydra-bitch said, just as calmly.

I wanted to throw up. But mostly I didn’t know what to do. Should I have been doing anything? I looked at Natasha. She didn’t give any sign that I was doing anything wrong, at least. Maybe they could put that on my gravestone. ‘Didn’t fuck up at the end,’ was a piss-poor consolation prize, but at least it wouldn’t be my fault. If only that made me feel better.

However I saw Natasha’s eyes flick to the window behind us– the one Bucky had vanished out of– and after a few seconds she looked…mad. Like, seriously oddly angry. She had been so cool and calm up to this point, but the way her eyes narrowed now made me wonder if she was just going to put a bullet through the woman and be done with it. But she looked right at me and said, “Follow orders, Agent.”

The whimpering I wanted to be doing was probably not conducive to pretending like I was totally qualified to be dealing with this bullshit, but nodding was out of the question too. It took me two swallows to let out a little, “Okay.”

The doctor scoffed in disgust, but she waited for them to file out, and then the door clicked behind them.

And it was just us.

“I have this gun at the ready and if I so much as see you twitch, I will put a bullet in you. Understand?”

Suddenly twitching was all my body wanted to do. Great. Fun. “Yes,” I said, shaking on every extra syllable my warbly voice put in there.

The pressure left my head and my neck felt oddly aching when she let go, but she stepped away and I could breathe. I did desperately try to remain as statue-like as I could though. “Hands up behind your head, then get on your knees. Move slowly, agent.”

As I followed her instructions to the letter, part of me still couldn’t believe she was calling me that. Not that I thought SHIELD was all that discriminatory when it came to undercover super-secret agents who were supposed to blend in with everyone else and look unassuming, but all the shaking and near-crying I was doing surely did not scream ‘cool head under pressure this happens all the time.’ This was going to be funny later, right? When Steve got over the whole ‘you were almost kidnapped by Hydra and I was held at gunpoint’ thing, we were going to laugh at the Hydra agent who looked at me and thought I was some super spy she hadn’t tagged. When I put it like that, it was a little funny.

It was a lot less funny when she forced my hands behind me and zip-tied my wrists together. That wasn’t fun at all. I kept my eyes on Steve for something to focus on, and stayed there when she walked past me to stand next to him. Seeing that, at least, made me more angry than afraid for a few seconds. Until she looked at me and said, “What is your name?”

I pressed my lips together. This whole thing was going to fall apart so fast if I said more than yes or no. The fact that she hadn’t made me yet was, actually, kind of embarrassing for all of us, considering I was shaking like a damn leaf.

I froze when she stomped over. “I asked you a very simple question,” she said in warning. There was a threat there, lingering on her words for if I didn’t answer, but while I didn’t know what the threat was– it didn’t matter. My throat was stopped up and I didn’t think I could speak if my life depended on it.

My life, no, not yet, but definitely my well-being, when she raised the gun in her hand like she was going to bring it down on my face. I could only barely have the horrifying realization that this was going to hurt, (a lot), when a sudden burst of noise accompanied by a crash made her jerk and fall back, and what felt like pebbles hit my back as something wet splashed on my face.

It wasn’t just the noise though– she’d fallen, turned and twisted on the ground, and groaned, and I realized with a start that she’d just been shot. The noise was quieter than I had expected– not quiet by any means but not the loud explosion TV and movies had made me think it would be. And that meant the wet stuff on my face…

I almost started hyperventilating, but there was a body behind me, looming and unfamiliar but also familiar. “Bucky?” I squeaked in a pitch that could probably only be heard by dogs.

He grunted affirmation and held one of my arms as he swiftly cut the zip tie. I could breathe again, at least, and he turned to go, but then…he stopped, and squeezed my shoulder. Like, in reassurance. “Hey,” he said, in a shockingly gentle tone that was maybe the biggest surprise of the day. “You’re all right, Doll.”

I exhaled and nodded my head. The woman shifted, so she was alive, and my attention went to her, and then grazed right over to Steve. Steve, who still…

Bucky said something in Russian, louder, and then turned and leaped back out the window just as everyone else came rushing back in. But as Phil helped me up and the others surrounded the injured Hydra agent, I only used Phil to get back on my feet so I could stumble over to Steve. I’d fucked up. I should have insisted that something was wrong, that none of this was right, because Steve was so, so, so still, like Sleeping Beauty even after all of that, not even a groggy eye cracked open, and that bitch had been fiddling with the IV– that must have been what Bucky had looked at so–

Phil tried to pull me back but I surged forward for Steve. “What are you–”

“Please, help me get these out,” I begged and pulled at Phil’s hands, even though my entire body felt like a boiled noodle left out in the rain for three days and he might as well have been made out of steel. “I’m so fucking stupid, I can’t believe I– there’s no way he would sleep through this, Phil, with no sign of waking up? He burns through everything and he sleeps so light; they didn’t give him something, they’re still giving him something! We have to–”

“Right, you’re right,” Phil said and turned me towards the chair, but then immediately started pulling out needles. He spoke louder when he said, “What did you put in this IV stand?”

I was facing away from her so I couldn’t see, but I heard her suddenly gasp in pain. And then, in a strained and breathy tone– “Activators. For the– the sedatives.”

“What kind,” Phil said, moving to the other side. I stared hard at Steve, watching for any change even though Phil was still working. I grabbed a tissue from the side table and pressed it to the blood trickling from Steve’s hand. But then someone in a white coat appeared near me and I jerked back, instinctively ready to lash out, but this doctor was familiar– in a good way. I’d seen her before, I was sure, but my head couldn’t– I didn’t know what–

Someone touched my arm and I flinched, a full body shudder moving through me from the point of contact, but it was just Natasha.

“Easy; the doctor needs room to work,” Natasha said and lightly put her other arm around me to lead me away.

“Oh. Right.” Idiot. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said like nothing was wrong. I wondered if she knew what a headcase I was being. She must have; she kept her arm around me. Natasha wasn’t this touchy, normally. And normally I would have chafed at that much contact, but right then it was okay. To know she was there. To know she could probably chuck me across the floor if shots went off again–

“Are you with me?” she asked.

“I’m…here,” I said, trying to sound normal. “Just thinking.”

“Hm. Maybe–”

I stopped suddenly, and resisted Natasha’s tug. I didn’t want to leave. What if that lady pulled herself together and stole a gun. What if there were other Hydra agents just waiting to rush in. “You– you should stay with him. With Steve.”

Natasha said my name evenly. “He’s okay,” she said. “Steve is safe.”

I fucking snapped so hard I could have sworn I actually saw a flash of red. “People have been telling me that since I got here and it hasn’t been true not fucking ONCE!”

The rush faded and I clapped a hand over my mouth. Natasha didn’t deserve that, it wasn’t her fault; I hadn’t even seen her before–…before…

She put her arm around me again. “Let’s go somewhere quiet, and have something to drink.”

I wasn’t sure if the hospital was safe, but…Bucky was around, and I was just in the way. So, I went along.

~

We ended up in someone’s office, but I didn’t even realize it before Natasha was pushing a Styrofoam cup of coffee into my hands. Belatedly I looked around the absurd number of books and papers spilling out of a room packed with shelves and filing cabinets. It felt like the hospital wing had been empty of doctors as we walked through the halls, room doors shut while SHIELD agents made sure everything was nice and secure, and I remembered Natasha had even had to fiddle with the lock to get us in. “Are we allowed to be here?” I asked.

“We won’t get in trouble,” Natasha said and sat primly in the old wheely chair by the desk. I couldn’t blame her; it looked like it probably had crumbs in the cushions that got dropped in the seventies. The Keurig in the corner was almost anachronistic in its modernity. “Sit down.”

I looked, and sort of mirrored her style of perch on the other chair. It creaked worryingly, but it held steady enough, and I took a sip of the coffee in my hands. It was pretty okay. I swallowed, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I said.

“Are you feeling more stable?” she asked. And there wasn’t judgment in her tone– it was like she really just wanted to know. I nodded. “Okay,” she said. She shifted to take something out of her pocket– a crumpled pack of tissues. I watched as she pulled one out, snagged a half-empty water bottle from behind her, lightly wet the tissue, and handed it to me. I stared at her blankly, until she motioned for the side of my face where–

“Oh god.” I shuddered so violently I almost dropped the coffee cup. Natasha held it while I scrubbed my face of the– it must have been blood, from the shot, that Bucky made to…

I swallowed bile and didn’t dare look at the tissue when I felt about as clean as I would get until I could take a shower. Natasha held out a trash can, I dumped it in, and she handed me the coffee cup I could barely hold in my shaking hands. I swallowed again and tried to force myself still. Steve was okay, he was with Phil, and Phil would take it seriously now, and the doctors, and they would make sure the stuff in the IV wouldn’t…well, whatever it was wouldn’t hurt him anymore. And hopefully I hadn’t fucked anything up by pulling him off it.

“What are you thinking now?” Natasha asked. She was so gentle that it really cemented the feeling of having my world upended, but I didn’t want to say that. She was just trying to be nice.

“Is it bad that I made Phil take out the IV stuff?” I asked. “Do you think it hurt Steve?”

She snorted. Then rubbed her forehead, like she couldn’t believe she just did that, but it was oddly reassuring. “I cannot express to you how much you cannot make Coulson do anything he doesn’t want to,” she said, very serious and a lot more normal. “I can nudge Hill into doing things. I can probably get Fury to do something. But Coulson?” She shook her head, and then took a sip of her coffee. Suddenly I remembered mine and I followed her lead. She set her cup down and looked kind of tired then. “Also, Phil is a nightmare patient who will do stupid things regarding his own health– incredibly, incredibly stupid things,” she said, her face darkening for a moment before she smoothed out again. “But he won’t with anyone else. Especially not Steve.”

Right. Right. I nodded fast. “Right; they’re friends, and he wouldn’t…right.” I rubbed my hand over my face and tried to get a fucking grip. I sighed, trying to excise all of my disgust and discomfort. “Sorry,” I muttered, sinking into a more familiar grumpiness. Granted, it was the kind of grumpiness that normally followed a hellish day– but, well, it kind of had been, hadn’t it.

“This is a pretty normal reaction, from what I’ve seen,” Natasha said. While sitting easily. And speaking calmly.

I stared at her. At her. Pointedly.

She gave me a ‘you dumbass’ look right back. “I have been doing this shit since I was a literal child. If you’re looking to me for markers of normal reaction and development, you are in for a bad time.”

I thought of that, and everyone else I had surrounded myself with, and let out a demented little giggle before I could stop myself. “We’re all fucked up here,” I intoned like a deadpan Cheshire Cat.

She patted my hand. “Welcome to the funhouse.”

And yet, I didn’t want to run screaming. I just wanted to see that Steve was okay. And buy Bucky like ten buckets of flowers. I remembered something– the look on Natasha’s face when she had everyone leave. “Did you know Bucky was there?”

She sighed heavily, and took a drink of coffee like it was liquor. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, slowly drawing it out, “–But I would very much like to strangle your boyfriend’s boyfriend.”

I thought about it. Fair. However. “I’m pretty sure I’m honor-bound now to step in as tribute or something,” I said, feeling some trepidation, but Natasha probably wouldn’t shoot me. Right?

…Right, actually. She’d had her chance.

She shook her head. “It was the least he could do,” she said with surprising vehemence. “He should have found a way to warn us. That was never your responsibility. It never should have been yours.”

“I didn’t really give him a chance,” I admitted. “But I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her for real alone with Steve.”

“Barnes still could have signaled, and without even opening himself up to us,” she said. “No; he’s an asshole, and an idiot, and when I do catch up with him, he is going to hear about it.”

I gave it some thought. “Before or after you choke him out?”

She smiled sweetly at me. “During.”

~

I only got to see Steve briefly that night before I had to call it quits and go home. I had been ready to stay the night and call out of work the next day, but I felt…calmer. About Steve, at least– now that we knew exactly what was going on with him, and his friends were around, and SHIELD security was upped. He still wasn’t going to wake up for probably at least a day, and there was no point in me wasting my sick time if all I was going to do was be a jittery mess by his silent bedside. So I went home.

And got no sleep. I was restless and upset and I wanted Steve but I couldn’t have him. I tried to lie down, I tried to distract myself with TV and music and shit that was normally comforting or cathartic, but nothing hit; nothing helped. It was almost a relief when morning came.

Then I had to go to work and all that relief crumpled like a soda can when I had to try and focus on shit when I was a) exhausted, and b) worried. And I remained that way for almost the entire day. Almost.

Natasha: He’ll be up in three hours.

Three hours. I checked the clock and almost fell apart with relief that I wouldn’t have to ask my boss to leave early. I held my head in one hand. Fuck, I was tired if even thinking about that level of interaction made me break so hard. But the timing was just good enough for me to leave for the hospital straight from work, and so help anyone who got in my fucking way.

~

Steve was sleeping.

Normal, full chest-up-and-down, is-that-a-snore-or-wishful-thinking sleeping, without wires or tubes or needles or anything. I could have collapsed in the doorway, but I made it over to the chair to sink down. He was in a different room, too, on a different floor, and that helped. It helped a lot more than I would have liked to admit, but it was calming. Soothing.

Even though I felt like someone else was there– but that wasn’t actually a bad realization. “You don’t have to leave,” I said, in case Bucky was still around to hear it.

Sure enough, he slipped out from behind me even though I knew I hadn’t seen him when I came in, and any hiding spots were negligible. At least, they were to me. Creepy, but I liked that he had been here protecting Steve. Like he (almost) always had. “He’ll wake up soon,” he said quietly.

“Are you gonna stick around to say hi?” I asked. “It might help relax him a little.”

“Isn’t it…” He frowned and his eyes flicked back and forth between me and Steve. “…Weird?”

I shrugged. “Weird isn’t the worst thing in the world.” I swallowed. “Thanks.”

“You should have left right away.”

“I tried.” When he gave me a stink-eye, I shrugged. “Okay I mostly tried. I was going to get the hell out of dodge once Natasha knew.”

“Were you?” he said like he didn’t believe me.

“Yes,” I said. He actually looked surprised. I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t want to get in the way, and I’m not the heroic type. Or competent at anything violent. And I don’t…really want to be. I’m not going to be able to protect Steve in a situation like that; the best I can do is take care of him after.” Though I was starting to doubt that, considering I couldn’t even take care of myself after. But he didn’t need to know that.

“It’s good,” he said firmly. He glanced at Steve. He shook his head. “I don’t need to stay.”

I tried one last time, just to make sure he wasn’t pulling a Steve and trying to martyr himself. “He’ll feel better, knowing you’re all right.”

“So tell him.”

“You know Steve Rogers. And I know you do, even if things are probably a bit fucked in the head for you right now,” I said. “He’s not going to take anyone’s word for it. He’s a stubborn little shit like that.”

Bucky snorted and actually hinted at a smile. “True,” he said, but he turned. “Not yet. I’m not…ready.”

I sighed, but it wasn’t my choice. Wasn’t Steve’s. “All right.”

Bucky looked at me, again, like he didn’t know what to make of me. I shrugged, because…what could I even say to that? He shook his head and actually went for the door. “Stay safe. For Steve’s sake,” he said.

“You do the same. For both your sakes,” I said and he paused for just a moment before he slipped out. I let out a disgusted sigh. Natasha was right– he was kind of stupid. But then, with the level of brain trauma he’d been through, it was probably expected. And he was the same kind of stupid as Steve, thinking that using yourself up would help anybody, let alone the people who loved you.

Speaking of Natasha– or rather, thinking– she came by next. Not exactly unexpectedly; I assumed she would be staying nearby, though I wasn’t sure if she was going to come by while I was there. I’d thought she’d gotten her fill of me the previous day. I still had my fill of me. But regardless, there she was, walking around the bed and studying Steve. It was silent for a few moments, and then…

“Did he come back?” she asked, conversationally.

I hesitated. Should I tell her? She was my friend. But she was also a SHIELD agent. …And she was staring at me. Because she already knew. “You know I know you know, right? That wasn’t even subtle.”

“I was wondering if you would tell me,” she said.

“I think I would, but I don’t know if I should,” I said. I put my elbows on the bed and rested my head in my hands. “This is all really weird.”

“I can only imagine,” she said dryly. I laughed a little at that and when I looked at her, she spared a small smile for me, and brushed some of Steve’s hair away from his face. She focused on him when she asked, “How did he seem?”

I shrugged. “To the average civilian idiot? Fine. Holding it together about as well as anyone else.” Which meant holding it together better than me, which was…something. “You’re right. He’s an asshole. No wonder Steve likes him so much.”

“Hmm.” Natasha flicked her eyes at me. “And how are you?”

“Fine.”

She stared at me. I hunched my shoulders up. “I am. Nothing happened, everything’s fine. Steve’s fine.”

She walked around the bed slowly, sat on the very edge of it, and leaned over. It almost felt…looming. Not on purpose, I didn’t think, but… “It was a scary thing.”

“Everybody else has had way worse.”

“You’re not everybody else.”

“Yeah.” I folded my arms and rested my chin on them. My back didn’t like the bending, but I needed to be smaller. Closer to Steve. “I’m a wimp.”

“I’ve seen worse.” But then she started…scratching my back? Not actually scratching, just running her nails up and down, lightly, and I relaxed despite myself. There felt like definite points to her nails that I hadn’t really noticed before, but she was gentle, and the contact was so good that when it was over I found myself blinking and lifting my head.

“Huh. That felt nice.” I looked at my hands. “I wonder if I should get sharp nails.”

“I doubt it’s necessary.” She smiled wickedly. “You seem to leave your mark on Steve well enough on your own.”

I dug my head back in my arms but I had to laugh. She got off the bed, but then the bed moved and I snapped my head back up in time to see Steve start to shift like he was waking up. I blinked fast, because it wasn’t worth crying over (god I really was a wimp) but I felt like I had been holding one end of a large couch for days and was only now allowed to put it down. He squinted around, and settled on me, and I gripped his hand as tight as I could. “Hey handsome,” I said, my throat thicker than it should have been.

He smiled slightly and returned the grip. “I must look worse than I feel.”

“Disgustingly attractive as ever,” Natasha said. “You were out for several days.”

Steve frowned and I looked at her. Was this really the time? She tilted her head in a way I took to mean, ‘trust me,’ so I shut my mouth and let her take the lead. “Hydra snuck some sedatives in you, then dosed your IV with something that seemed innocuous that kept the effect going,” she said. “But we took care of the issue, and everything is fine now. You’ll get a full report later.”

Hopefully not involving me, but Steve took her word with a solemn nod and tried to force a smile. For me. “You’re always telling me to sleep in.”

“I should have known I’d have to put conditions on it.” I leaned my head down to kiss his hand. “It’s not your fault though. We’ll work on it when you’re out of the hospital.”

“Ugh. Hopefully not too much longer.” But his head fell back against the pillow and he blinked furiously, like it was still hard to keep his eyes open. “I hate being stuck in bed.”

“You’ll have to learn to love it for at least a day or two,” Natasha said, and punched his chest in a way that didn’t look all that hard, but that made him jerk and actually swear.

“Dammit Natasha,” he said, and rubbed right over the area around his nipple in a way that looked oddly familiar.

I blinked. “Dude, did you give him a titty twister like that?” I asked her. She looked smug. As she should– I didn’t even see the fabric pinch. “Sensei, teach me your ways.”

“All in good time, grasshopper,” she said and started for the door. She stopped just before exiting. “Steve’s going to have to give a debrief soon. I can buy you a half-hour, but after that, you’re going to have to share him.”

I nodded and waved. “Thanks Natasha,” I said, just before she left, and the door clicked shut. I sighed, and faced Steve again. I wasn’t sure what to say. I was not going to tell him about Hydra-bitch and that whole mess– but I also didn’t know what to talk about. Or how to talk about…certain things. Certain someones. “Sorry,” I said and tried to get my head on straight.

Steve squeezed my hand, but his grip was weak. “You were that worried?” he asked.

I swallowed. “That and…shitty week. I don’t– I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Later,” I said and squeezed back, tight.

He pulled at me, and I moved closer, getting out of my chair a bit to lean in and hug him as much as I could. The hug was mostly me half-laying on him and trying not to exert any pressure, but he pulled me in and murmured, “I’m not gonna break, and you really look like you need a hug right now.”

I laughed, and blinked back tears. “I missed you,” I said weakly, and pushed my face into his chest.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So much,” he said and stroked the back of my head. I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t want to get up. “I found him. I talked to him. A little, but– enough. I’m not going anywhere again for a while; I promise.”

I nodded. I swallowed my emotions, pushed them down in the dark pit where they belonged, and sat again. “Especially since he’s in town,” I said, daring to mention it since I didn’t want Steve worrying too much…and I doubted Bucky would completely stay away, given how present he had been thus far.

“Huh.” He studied me for a few moments. “You–?”

Someone knocked lightly. I stared up at the ceiling and briefly considered barricading us in. If only it would have worked. “There’s no way that was a half-hour,” I said and rubbed my face.

“Maybe they want to get it done and over with,” Steve said. “Hey.” I looked at him. He looked serious. “I’ll refuse it for that half-hour if you want. Or…”

“Or we can get it out of the way,” I said. I swallowed. “Will they actually back off?”

“I’ll make it happen,” Steve said, his face promising retribution in advance. “If I have to threaten to check out AMA I will.”

“Don’t do that.” I squeezed his hands with both of mine. “You still look wiped, and I don’t know what the fuck Hydra gave you. I want you to be okay.”

“I will be,” he said and squeezed back. There was another knock. “You get to choose though.”

I was mostly stable, and not at risk of crying. Might as well do it before I got too comfortable. “Let’s get ‘em in and out,” I said and stood up.

“Okay,” Steve said and briefly passed my hand across his lips. “Who is it?” he said, louder for the person at the door.

“Coulson,” Phil replied. And then, curiously, he said my name. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

Steve looked as perplexed as I felt, and raised an eyebrow at me. “Don’t look at me,” I said, my shoulders going up with my hands. But I stood. “Maybe he’s going to tell me how long to fuck off for.”

“Don’t be too long,” Steve said. “I’ll keep it short. No matter what.”

I smiled a little bit at his obstinacy. “Steve…”

“I mean it. It’s not like they haven't gotten better and more detailed reports from Nat and Sam and Clint,” he said. “So, it won’t be long. I promise.”

He had a good point. I bobbed my head, and snuck one last kiss before leaving the room and coming out to face…Phil. Who was not exactly my favorite person at the moment, and his wry smile indicated he knew that. He gestured for me to follow, and I tried to ease some of my annoyance. He had helped save me, he was ultimately trying to look out for Steve, Hydra had probably split SHIELD’s attention on purpose so that Steve was more vulnerable… ‘actually, move that to definitely,’ I corrected myself with a wince. We got to a small doorway off to the side of the hallway bustle and I forced myself to lighten up. The sooner we got all of this sorted, the sooner I could get back to Steve.

Phil faced me. “I’m sorry,” he said, in a deeply regretful tone. That…wasn’t what I had been expecting. And it knocked all the anger out of me. He looked like he really meant it. “I should have taken you more seriously when you pointed out how oddly he was sleeping and I deeply apologize; being distracted is no excuse for what happened.”

“It’s– no, it’s okay. I doubted me too,” I said. Because I had. I should have pushed it but I hadn’t and I was going to have to deal with that.

“Only when I suggested it,” he said. “I should have looked into it at the very least and I didn’t, and what happened to you because of it was inexcusable. I can’t fix it now, but you deserve an apology at the very least.”

That was…nice to hear. I wasn’t super smart, a spy, or anything approaching what was entry-level for their line of work. But I knew Steve. “Apology accepted,” I said. “And I’m sorry for getting in the way.”

He shook his head. “No offense, but even given the abilities of everyone in the room, I’ve run over that situation fifteen times now and not found a way to have gotten you out of there any better than we did.”

‘Given the abilities.’ I let out a little huff that was almost a laugh. He took it in the spirit it was intended, and smiled. “I’m actually thinking of making it a training exercise,” he said. “Anonymous, of course.”

“Well at least I can be useful.” I stretched. “I think I’m gonna walk down to the cafeteria; you want anything?”

“A coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble,” Phil said. “This won’t take long, but I’ll sit with him until you get back. If the door is still shut when you return, just wait outside. I’ll open it when we’re done.”

I flashed him a peace sign. “Good luck,” I said. He briefly grimaced in acknowledgement, and I enjoyed the moment of schadenfreude before moseying on down to the cafeteria to get a couple of coffees, and see if there was anything nice I could snag for Steve.

Unfortunately, though, when I got back, Steve was asleep again. Phil, sitting beside him, inclined his head and thanked me as I handed him his drink. “His doctor– his real doctor– has said that he might be recovering for a few days more. It’s hard to tell, with the serum,” Phil said, a little quiet but not whispering. “The cocktail Hydra hit him with was quite…complex.”

“They really didn’t give a shit how hard they got him, did they?” I said and tried not to grip my cup too hard.

“They did, if only a little. If they truly wanted to kill him, it would have been much worse,” Phil said. “They wanted him alive– but, yes, they did not care about the aftereffects. He’ll still be here tomorrow, and possibly the day after.”

I nodded. “And people are looking out?”

“Several.” Phil’s lips twitched upwards. “Though I doubt any as voraciously as one in particular. But I wouldn’t actually know the details. Officially.” He stood and straightened his jacket. “You can stay as long as you wish; have a good night.”

“Night Phil,” I said, still watching Steve. Once Phil was gone and the door was shut, I took my spot next to Steve. He was actually sleeping really well. I stayed for a while and there was no sign of any nightmares– I could have sworn he almost smiled at one point. It did a lot to help soothe me, and Phil was right– obliquely, but– Bucky was around. Steve was safe. And so I, when it started to get late, went home. One of the SHIELD detail agents even gave me a ride. I should have felt fine. I should have felt safe. Everybody was fine. Everybody was safe.

Once again, though, I got no sleep. I tried. I tried for hours. I even got close– but when I, starting to doze off, suddenly jolted up at the feeling of something heavy at my temple…and found it was just my hand, I sighed in disgust, and half-heartedly tried to smother myself with a pillow. It was at least nicer than imaginary guns.

~

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[fanfic-scribbles]

Dinner Date Chapter 41

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 41: Clubbed

Chapter Summary: It isn’t too surprising that Tony and Steve haven't been getting along great. It is slightly surprising to go out for the night and bump into Tony drinking about it. It is quite surprising to find out why.

Chapter Word Count: 3535

A/N: I wanted to post this earlier this month but I am a permanent fixture on the struggle bus this year, it seems. A very slow struggle bus. All the same, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I will see you next time <3

~

It was an average weekend in the city, and I was at a club.

I was…not doing entirely great. The time away from Steve– or rather, the time Steve was spending away from me, from home– was starting to get to both of us. Or maybe it was the fact that Steve was busier than ever, and the conversations were getting shorter and farther apart. My apartment, once a safe haven, was becoming a place where it was far too easy to get too deep into my own head, insecurities, fears…

And so I was out. Inflicting my grumpiness on the populace at large, but it helped being a not-so-attractive woman among the slender and fit, in that I was like a natural repellent. Also, if I had an expression anywhere close to how I felt, then I was radiating ‘bitch’ vibes like no one’s business.

Perfect, I thought sourly and sipped at my overpriced drink. Someone tapped on my shoulder and I turned my head, trying for less ‘bite someone’s head off’ and more ‘who dares disturb me’ when I…blinked. The guy was familiar. Not in a bad way, I just couldn’t remember where I had seen him.

He leaned in and I moved closer to hear what he had to say. “Mr. Stark asked me to come get you,” he said. I had a moment of panic, until I caught a flash of the upper level– where Tony stood at the railing, drink in hand, in a decent suit with his tie loosened.

That was surreal. And odd in a way that unnerved me, even as I followed the guy. Stark used to be a club staple, but only the kinds of places no one would let me within a mile of. He also, reportedly, used to be the kind of guy who would let anyone and everyone know. He wasn’t the type to sit and drink quietly in a club that didn’t make me convulse at the cover charge.

The guy led me up to the second level and there were a few different parties of people scattered about. Tony sat– rather, slumped– in a chair. Two bottles sat on the side table next to him, and he raised a half-full glass as I approached. Yeah, this definitely felt weird. Tony was never exactly on a wagon of any sort, so I couldn’t say this was him falling off, but it definitely had a tinge of ‘messy drunk trying to manage emotions.’ As a grumpy not-currently-drunk-enough trying to ignore emotions, I approached with caution.

“Didn’t expect to see you out and about,” I said and sat in the chair on the other side of the table. A couple of tall and strong looking guys loitered about– funny, for Iron Man– but they seemed to do well enough to discourage people from doing more than looking curiously over. The guy who had led me up got me a clean cup and tilted his head at the bottles. I made a motion to signal I had it, and he stepped back and let us be. I poured myself half a glass, and raised it. Tony did the same– and then shot back the third of his cup that was left.

“I think that should be my line, little Miss Anti-Social.” His eyebrows raised near to the skyline, and he dumped more drink in his cup. “What are you doing out and about? While the boyfriend’s away…?” He trailed off to start sipping again.

“I know, it’s amazing, but I am allowed to go places without Steve,” I said and took a drink of my own. That was strong; no wonder he looked nearly boneless. However, all the drinking didn’t seem to be making him feel any better; there was definitely a sour air around him. Especially at the direct mention of Steve. “I didn’t know clubs were your scene.”

He raised both arms. The drink sloshed, but didn’t spill. “I used to be king of the scene.”

Again, not the ones I could afford, but I didn’t bring it up. It felt too…biting, for how prickly he was. I had to tread carefully. I wanted to ask if Pepper was okay, but what if they were fighting and that was why he was out drinking himself down? Better to stay away from that. “Just getting out for the night, then? I get that.”

Stark snorted. “Really? No troubles in paradise?” he drawled. Bitterly.

“Are there any with you?” I asked, trying to stay as level as I could. I really, really did not want to get dragged into this, and if he tried to force it, I was going to be leaving and figuring out damage control later. I did not want to deal with this shit.

“With Pepper? No; solid as a rock. With Rogers? Well…” Stark shrugged one shoulder exaggeratedly. “You could say we’re going through a rough patch.”

“Feels like you guys do that fairly often,” I said.

He actually lost a bit of his bite then and leaned his head back with a groan. “Yeah well–” He flitted his hand and took another drink. He looked at me. “It happens.”

I leaned my head to the side. “Have you guys been talking a lot?” I asked, because their ‘fighting,’ such as it was, didn’t really happen unless they were spending a lot of time together, and right now they very much were not, so why…

Tony stared at me. And then his expression started to harden again. Fucking great; I was ready to throw my hands up and call it a night, but then he said, “Rogers didn’t tell you, did he?”

And that…that was a pretty good way to catch my attention. I sipped the drink. I sipped a lot more of it. “Tell me what?”

Stark’s smile was bitter again; almost a snarl. “So you don’t know? That the love of his life, war hero extraordinaire, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, killed my parents?”

I froze. All anger faded away, because no, I had not known that. I could have said so. I could have said it was none of my business if no one wanted it to be. I could have said a lot of things. What came out of my mouth, though, was, “Dude, are you all right?”

He actually jerked back a little in surprise. Then the bitter smile returned and he gestured uselessly. “Oh, peachy,” he said flippantly. “Why? Do you care?”

“Yeah,” I said honestly. “I do.”

He stared at me like he couldn’t quite believe it. But it wasn’t active disbelief, at least. I held up a hand. “One second,” I said and went over to the bartender. Tony went back to his drink, and I leaned in over the counter. “Two glasses of water please.”

The guy didn’t show any distaste at least, and he got me what I asked for. I went back, set one glass down by Tony, kept the other for myself, and snagged the bottle he was about to start chugging. He let out a little squawk, looked at the water, and then glared at me. “Really? You’re gonna babysit me?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t give a fuck if you get so drunk you have to crawl out of here,” I said. “But you’ve got enough shit to deal with without dealing with the worst hangover headache while also dealing with an emotional-bullshit headache at the same time. Drink the water, and I’ll pour you another glass.”

He stared at me. “I thought you hated me,” he blurted, but he took the water in hand. With only minimal spilling, too, which I found impressive. Maybe he wasn’t as bad off as I thought. Or maybe he was just too good at this. Again, I erred on the side of caution.

“I don’t hate you. Never have,” I said. “I think we just operate at polar opposite ends of the ‘I don’t know how to fucking deal with people’ spectrum.” I shrugged and sipped my own water.

“I can deal with people,” Tony scoffed, but he drank a big gulp. “They just don’t like it.”

“I think that might qualify,” I said and let him sit and stew in whatever was making him stare out at nothing for almost a minute. Maybe more; it wasn’t like I was timing him. He wasn’t drinking, just sitting, so still, but then he started tapping his foot, his fingers began to fidget, and he let out another sigh of disgust as he suddenly sat forward, leaning on his knees.

“It’s stupid,” he blurted out and then drank in such an angrily aggressive way I didn’t know someone could manage with just water. “I saw the fucking files; for godssake I helped Red piece them together. I know he was tortured and brainwashed to hell and back. I was completely on board with helping the guy even not knowing he was Captain America’s goddamned soulmate. That didn’t change; it’s just…”

“…Now you might have to see him around, rather than just sending him off to whatever psych hospital looks nicest?” I suggested when he started to silently brood a little too long again.

He pointed at me. “I know some great places,” he said emphatically. “They don’t even look like hospitals. People would spend vacations there and have the time of their lives.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I said, and waited for him to finish the glass before I took the bottle and poured him more alcohol, as agreed. “Still fucking sucks.”

“Big fat donkey balls,” he agreed. He squinted. “Do donkeys have famously large balls? Why is that a thing?”

“I don’t know, and I am not going to put that in my search history to look up,” I said and tossed back the rest of my water. I definitely needed another drink for this conversation.

Tony pulled out his phone and put it up to his ear. “Jarvis, I need you to look up how big donkey balls are,” he said. He scowled, and then pulled his phone away so he could glare at it. He looked at me. “He won’t do it,” he complained, but, thankfully, put his phone away.

“He’s very smart,” I said. “Also, maybe he doesn’t want it in his search history.”

Tony scoffed, but then he squinted at me. “What do you think about all this?” he asked. “Your boyfriend, running all over the world for his true love?”

“I think the whole situation sucks, and is more complicated than any one of us wants it to be.” I poured myself another glass, and held it up and out. “Fuck Hydra.”

He snorted. “Fuck Hydra,” he said emphatically and clinked his glass to mine. “With a rusty spike,” he added and tossed half the drink back, then poured more.

“Maybe a rusty spike made up of other rusty spikes,” I said. “Or jagged, broken nails.”

“Dipped in lemon juice.” He blinked furiously. “Or– or something.”

The night sort of…went on. Devolved, but not in the worst way; just in the way that Tony proceeded to get drunk enough that he didn’t notice the next time I snuck a glass of water into his hand. At that point I looked for his bodyguard or assistant, and the guy got the hint before I could say a word. Together we managed to get Stark out of the club, into a car, and back to the Tower. I itched to peace out, but he was leaning on me so heavily that I just sort of went along with it, even though my head still pulsed and pounded long after the club music was gone.

“Oh Tony,” Pepper said, looking quite nice and put together even in a pair of pajamas, as we stumbled into the main living area.

“Pepper! You’re back!” Tony said, and used me as a launching pad to go over to her. He mostly supported himself by the table next to her, but he leaned into her space enough that I saw her nose crinkle. I honestly hadn’t noticed, which didn’t bode well for my possible current aroma. I decided to stay where I was and not get any closer.

“Thanks for bringing him home,” Pepper told me, but she slid her hand up Tony’s arm and curled her fingers around.

“Actually, I just hitched a ride with him on the way out,” I admitted.

Tony piped up again. “We bonded!”

“And they say alcohol is a solvent,” I said as though disapproving of the world’s inaccuracies. But my stomach was grumbling at me and that headache was coming on even stronger. “I really should get going.”

“I can have a room set up for you if you’d just like to crash here,” Pepper said.

“That’s really thoughtful, but I think I need my own bed tonight,” I said, and sincerely meant both. If I wasn’t still a little sick from that earlier confession about why Steve and Tony were on the outs yet again, I might have taken her up on it, but I felt too fucking weird about…everything. Not least of all how nearly cuddly Tony was being, nuzzling into Pepper, and she was– well, not surprisingly receptive, because she obviously loved Tony, she just wasn’t normally the type to deal with much PDA. Now though… And, even if I wasn’t missing Steve, I had a feeling I didn’t need to stick around to see more of that. “It was good though. Thanks for treating, Tony.”

He mumbled something unintelligible. Pepper rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. “Happy’s going to take you home,” she said, firm enough that I got the message I wasn’t allowed to argue.

~

I was still up an hour later, hovering over a cup of coffee that I had reheated at least twice already, head still pulsing, and trying to make sure I was well enough to actually go to bed without waking myself up by being sick, when my phone buzzed.

Steve: I hope this doesn’t wake you Steve: I just wanted to say hi Steve: That I miss you and I’m sorry I haven't been available as much Steve: I’ll try to call tomorrow

I tapped my fingers on the counter with one hand, and texted back with the other. Headache or no headache, I wasn’t letting this chance go.

Me: I’m still up

He called within seconds. “Hey,” he said, casually. “It’s really late. Or are you up early for a run?”

I snorted. “You’re cute,” I said. I sighed. “I went out, actually,” I said. “Went to a club. Ran into Stark, oddly enough.”

There was a brief silence. “You ran into Tony at a club?” Steve asked curiously.

“Yeah. I was out drinking and so was he,” I said. I chewed on my lip. “So uh…this is awkward, but. In the interest of full disclosure…he told me. About Bucky and his parents.”

Silence again. And longer. “Steve?” I asked. “I’m sorry if you’re mad about it but uh…”

“I’m not…mad,” he said, in maybe the most unconvincing tone of voice ever. “I just…what exactly did he say to you?”

I grimaced. Maybe I should have saved this conversation for another, less-hangover-suffering time, but it was out now. “He was drinking his feelings about it, Steve. He wasn’t too much of a dick, he was just a little prickly, and it came out when I was asking about you two.” I took a moment to swallow and assess myself. I took a sip of coffee. It was still warm at least. “I knew you guys weren’t getting along, I just didn’t know the reason. He told me.”

Steve let out a gusty sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you–”

“No. I get it. It’s not really my business and didn’t concern me,” I said. And I did believe that. “I get why. And I get why you and Stark are having issues at each other about it. It was just…a little awkward at first. But then we drank. A lot. And I helped him get home and then Pepper helped me get home so…all’s well that ends well.”

“I guess so,” Steve said, again failing at basic lying. I wondered if texting Natasha about it would be a good thing or bad, but then the idea of having to tell her why definitely fell into the ‘bad’ category. “Did Tony say anything else to you?”

The question was loaded in a tone that said if Tony had said anything rude or untoward, Steve would be giving him a piece of his mind. I appreciated the thought, but as far as I was concerned, it was handled, and Steve getting protective about it was just going to land us at square negative ten. I breathed slowly and silently. How to diffuse this situation was beyond me. “Surprisingly he wasn’t actually much of a dick. We had a relatively good time, considering,” I said casually. “Hey Steve? I know it’s a hard situation for you, but…it kind of is for him too.” To say the least.

Like air exiting a hole-punched tire, he exhaled. “I know,” he admitted. He sounded exhausted. “I know; he’s actually been really good about this, even before he knew it was Bucky, but now that we know it was Bucky, Tony’s been snappish and I’ve been…I don’t mean to be an asshole; I don’t. It’s just hard not to get defensive, you know? It wasn’t him.”

“I know,” I said, and I fully meant it. I took a sip of coffee and let a few pulses of the headache pass through me. “Maybe just give it some space. There’s a lot of fucking feelings here, and shit’s raw right now. Maybe it’ll get easier to deal with if you give it a little time.”

“Maybe,” Steve said. Gently. “You okay sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed my forehead. “Drank too much. Stark’s got good liquor.”

Steve let out a little huff. “He does,” he said. “Did you…have fun?”

Dancing around the murder of someone’s parents by your boyfriend’s brainwashed boyfriend and trying not to let the man drink himself to death was…something. “It was interesting,” I said. “I’ve never been up on the rich-people dais before. That was new and exciting. Also, I got a few good drinks I didn’t have to pay for. That’s always fun.”

“Didn’t have to pay for with money, maybe,” Steve said, a slight smile in his voice. “But apparently it still cost you something.”

“Well who needs coherent thought on a Saturday morning anyway.” I paused to yawn. “Overrated.”

“Are you going to go to bed?”

I smiled at the curious lilt in his voice. “Yeah. You gonna think of me? In bed, some scattered ibuprofen on the table with a half-drunk cup of coffee, sprawled out on the covers with my mouth wide open and leaning my head into a trashcan every so often while I pray not to puke?”

“How do you make everything sound so sexy,” he said flatly.

I laughed a little. It hurt, but it was worth it. “What time is it where you are?” I asked and leaned my head over the coffee cup.

“Not too far from your time,” he admitted. That didn’t really narrow anything down for me, which was probably why he said it.

“Late for your morning run already, huh?” I wanted to ask how the hunt was, but if he hadn’t found Bucky yet, then it was pretty obviously not going great.

“Not quite, but I am keeping busy,” Steve said, sounding a little…like he was hedging, actually. Well, at least he was finding satisfaction in something.

“There’s nothing sexier than cracking Nazi skulls,” I said. “Apropos of nothing.”

“Nothing, naturally,” he said, the smile back in his voice. He sighed sadly though. “I have to go.”

“Okay. I love you; stay safe,” I said. “Give your boyfriend a titty-twister when you see him for me.”

He chuckled. “For you and not for Tony?”

“God no; I’m selfish,” I said. “I miss you. And New York is better than whatever hellhole he’s occupying right now. Be sure to mention that. Maybe bribe him with that really chill ramen place we went to.”

“Oh,” Steve said, sounding a bit perkier. “We should go there again.”

“We will,” I said firmly. “I’ll even treat for the Asshole to join us if he pops up within the next couple of weeks.”

“From your mouth to his listening devices.”

I took a moment to think about that. Whoops. “Huh. Forgot that might be a thing.” I gave it some more thought. “Nah; I stand by it. You hear that, Jerkwad? The best ramen you’ve ever had.” So let everyone fucking come home already, I thought and didn’t dare say.

“Well, take some medicine and get some rest,” Steve said. “I’m sorry you had to find that out like…well, like that. But I’m glad I got to talk to you.”

“Same,” I said. “Try and fit in a visit if you can, yeah?”

“I will,” he promised.

We really should have known better than to tempt fate like that.

~

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[fanfic-scribbles]

Digestifs: Chapter Seven (Excerpt)

I don’t like posting 18+ stuff to Tumblr, so here’s a snippet of Digestif’s seventh chapter. And here’s a link to the full piece on AO3.

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Steve Rogers and his girlfriend may not always know what they’re doing, but they’re willing to work it out. Together.

It’s just more fun that way.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Chapter Seven: Paint Me A Picture – Steve is away, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still play.

Excerpt:

~

I dried off and went to toss the towel over the rack, and kicked my bag further into the bedroom. Everything was nice and neat and I made a mess as I tugged out my clothes, setting my work ones aside on the dresser to stay nice, while I grabbed something soft to sleep in. I had just barely gotten my underwear on when my phone rang, and I decided to forgo getting dressed for what little taste of Steve I could have. I picked up the line and felt immediately warmed by his gentle voice teasing, “Hey there housebreaker.”

“Hey. I am in your home, stealing your bed,” I said and fell back onto the mattress and pillows. He was quiet at first. Too quiet for such a dumb joke, but just as I was about to try and make an even dumber one–

“What are you doing in it?” he asked, quiet and low, and– oh.

~

(Read More Here)

[fanfic-scribbles]

Dinner Date Chapter 40

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 40: Awkward Pauses

Chapter Summary: Sitting in silence in person is so much less awkward than sitting in silence on the phone. What is a self-professed miser to do?

Chapter Word Count: 1735

A/N: Some long-distance relationship fluff <3

~

Long distance was hard.

Not for any real existential reason like reconsidering my life, location, or the relationship in question– that was all solid as fuck. But maybe there was some reconsideration in stuff like my hobbies. Or the lack thereof.

“What have you been up to?”

Because long distance was awkward.

“Well…” I desperately searched for something interesting to say, but I had nothing. It was just another week– well, from my perspective, at least. Which meant going to work, and coming home, and making sure to eat my daily meals and take my showers and basically take care of myself like a normal functioning human. I wasn’t sure why it felt so much harder lately, but chalked it up to the fact that I couldn’t sprawl on my boyfriend’s chest. “Sorry. I’m trying to think, but…”

“No, it’s my fault,” he said. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I needed to touch base with Natasha to make sure she kept a close eye on my all-too-willing-martyr. “I’m sorry I can’t…” He grasped for words and what I got was a sigh that sounded like the equivalent of a verbal shrug.

“It’s okay. I know you can’t,” I said. Security issues; maybe some in transmission, but there was plenty that was definitely on my end– no way in hell was I allowing SHIELD or even Stark to get their mitts on ‘upgrading’ my phone. Though I’d honestly let Stark take a crack at it before any suits. There was something oddly more comforting about loudly being judged for my porn history than silently so. “I’m sorry I’m not…I don’t know…a person about town. Work is boring but pretty draining lately; I’ve been coming home just to veg out.”

“I understand that,” he said. There was some shifting. I imagined him laying down somewhere. Maybe seeing the stars. On one hand: pretty. On the other hand: outdoors, and possibly elements and bitey bugs. Ick. I hoped he had a place to sleep, even if it was just a tent.

“I might go to the library tomorrow,” I said. That was sort of out of nowhere– I was just dragging my sorry carcass home these days, but it sounded like a safe place that I could conceivably stop on the way home, without spending money, and still get something fun. “Either tomorrow or the day after, I’m not sure yet.”

“Any books in mind?” he asked.

“Just gonna browse the new sections I think,” I said. “The very exciting life of a nerd in one of the most exciting cities in the world. Some party kid in rural Nowheresville is probably feeling a sudden visceral hatred and has no idea why.”

“Well, I hope they make their own way to the city someday, but I like that you’re there too,” Steve said. “And libraries are also a very valid reason to live in New York City.”

“Oh good, I won’t be booted any time soon then,” I said. There was a brief, sharp whistle from his end and I flinched at how clear it sounded. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Nothing’s happening, so don’t worry.” True to his words he said nothing else for a few seconds, and even let out a languorous yawn. I rolled my eyes. There was such a thing as laying it on too thick, but I didn’t bother to point that out. I liked being able to hear his tells. And maybe he actually wanted me to hear them too. “I do have to go soon though, and get some sleep. I’ll try and call tomorrow, but…”

“No promises. I know,” I said. “And I’d always rather you stay safe. If you get hurt because you’re trying to call just to listen to me sit and twiddle my thumbs, I’m going to be pissed. And I will never, ever let you live it down.”

“Okay,” he said. “I will only risk injury if I’m late calling to listen to you sit and watch paint dry.”

I screwed my mouth in effort not to laugh. It was a good comeback but I did not want to encourage that behavior. “You make it very difficult to love you sometimes but I do love you and I mean that even though I really want to wrap my hands around your fucking neck right now.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” he said, and I could envision the cocky ‘gotcha’ smile he had just by the sound of his voice, the absolute bastard. “And I’ll talk to you soon.”

~

Steve: I can’t actually physically talk today Steve: I’m sorry Me: It’s okay

It really, really was. I’d felt vaguely crappy since the morning, and eating lunch had made it worse, but I’d still soldiered on to the library. Except now I sat on the couch, with an empty trashcan nearby, trying to find any stomach medicine capable of making me feel less utterly wretched. And cautiously enjoying my new books– these were borrowed and I did not want to mess them up.

I grimaced at the thought and took a deep breath. My stupid stomach just gurgled menacingly in response.

Steve: What are you up to tonight?

I thought about it a moment.

Me: Are you up for petty complaints? Steve: Always, sweetheart Me: My tummy hurts and I am not being brave about it at all Steve: I’m sorry to hear that Me: I can’t appreciate good food Me: Woe Steve: Oh that IS awful Me: I knew you’d get it <3 Steve: I’m sorry Steve: I can’t chat for long but I wanted to check in Me: I’m glad you did Me: I’ll try to get up to some shenanigans before you call again Steve: Well don’t burn the city down without me :)

I raised both eyebrows.

Me: That sounds like way too much work Me: Also I live here. No burning. Steve: Good Steve: I’ll try to actually talk to you tomorrow, sweetheart Steve: I hope you feel better soon <3

My stomach bubbled in protest and I groaned. But I didn’t get sick, and so I settled back down with my book. It was nice, and good, and comforting…

…And it actually gave me an idea.

~

Steve did indeed call the next day, and I had gotten up to absolutely nothing except for managing to drag myself into work and back home. My stomach felt better but I still had myself on a soup-and-water diet just in case, so, no interesting events, and no interesting food, made the conversation die out. As it tended to do pretty easily these days.

“I really take for granted the ability to just sit with you,” Steve said. “I miss it. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I said. “I’m glad you keep calling, even though I am boring as hell.”

“I’m glad you keep answering, even though I have even less interesting things to say,” he said. “I honestly wouldn’t even mind just sitting quietly. Knowing you’re there…even that’s enough.”

That…was kind of intensely romantic. Also, I didn’t hate the idea– we were already boring when it came to conversation. Maybe if I just used my earbud and had him in, the ambient noise of home might even be kind of comforting. Or if I played a video game and tried narrating it, he might find it funny. I shelved that thought for later. Right now, I had a plan, and I wanted to see how well this went over before suggesting anything else. “I actually have an idea for tonight, but…don’t make fun of me if it sounds dumb, okay?” I cleared my throat. “I got a new book and it’s pretty nice and I was thinking I could…read some of it to you? If you want?”

It sounded so stupid out loud, but after a second or two Steve said, “Really?” and he sounded…sincerely into it. “That would be amazing.”

I had to scramble to catch up. “Really?”

“I can’t really talk about what I’m doing, and I know how you feel about the phone,” he said. “So it means a lot you’d want to stay on with me.”

“It’s not a hardship,” I said as I got up to go get the book. “I miss you too, you know, and if all you really wanted to do was stay quiet on the line I would. The phone is just…hard. I don’t know why.” I snagged the book and flopped onto my bed. I cleared my throat theatrically, but even as I read the title and author, I felt myself slipping into a comfortable cadence, and I read aloud something comforting and kind, and hoped it helped soothe rather than hurt with a reminder of what he couldn’t have at the moment.

Sometime later I was really regretting not grabbing some water to help soothe my throat, when I yawned hard and suddenly wished for coffee instead. “Sorry,” I said and rubbed my eyes. I looked at the clock but it wasn’t that late.

“I’m gonna let you get some sleep,” he said, his voice gentle and quiet and certainly not helping me stay awake. “Maybe we can pick this up again later?”

“We can,” I agreed and put my bookmark in sideways and carefully set the book down so it stayed on the right paragraph. “Get some good rest, Steve.”

“I’ll try,” he said like he was actually promising. “Hopefully Bu–…”

He didn’t continue, but I could kind of follow the thread, given what I’d just read. “Well, given you don’t know where he is, hopefully Bucky is somewhere safe and warm and comfy,” I said as I scooted off my bed and went to start getting ready for it properly. “Maybe he stole some rich asshole’s credit card and is holed up in a Hilton somewhere.”

Steve snorted. “I doubt that,” he said. “But it is a nice thought.”

“That’s what I’m here for. The sweet dreams,” I drawled sarcastically as I pulled out my PJs.

“You are. The sweetest,” Steve said. Smugly, because he knew how stupid that sounded.

My stomach even almost revolted again. “Bleck,” I said and stuck out my tongue.

He chuckled. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing at my book. Even if we didn’t talk, I still had plenty of reason to look forward to his call.

~

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