Dad!Steve Rogers & Teen!Reader
You're getting stressed by the contact arrangements with your Mother
[A/N] Me and my Daddy issues are back with another fic 🥳 Needed to write something quick and easy as I've been busy today, me and my bestie went to the cinema last night, then today we both went to a BBQ at a friends house 🥰 Hope y'all enjoy this one and everyone's having a good weekend 😘
Steve comes into your bedroom, sighing when he sees your backpack is open and empty on the floor by your bed, “Kid, even if you refuse to pack, you’ve still gotta go.”
“Why though?” You ask, and Steve braces himself for the conversation the two of you have every other Friday without fail.
“Because that’s the contact arrangement. I didn’t set them, I just have to follow them.”
“She only wanted every weekend to annoy you.”
“I know. And now she only has every other weekend so it could be worse. Now come on kid, let’s get that bag packed. If I don’t take you to your Mom’s I could get into trouble.”
You groan dramatically, standing up from your desk and stuffing clothes haphazardly into your bag. You scan your bookshelf, taking a long time to decide before picking out two and shoving them in as well, along with your Nintendo Switch. Steve watches with a sympathetic expression, knowing that you don’t want to go – but there’s nothing he can do about it.
He’d split up from your mother years ago, and contact arrangements had been a nightmare ever since. At first it had been agreed there’d be a 50:50 split. One week you’d spend with your Dad in the Avengers compound, the other you’d spend in your Mother’s apartment. That had lasted for a few years before you’d begged your Dad to just let you live with him all the time, telling him that going back and forth was driving you insane. Steve had applied for sole custody which had been denied, though contact with your mother had been reduced to every weekend, then eventually every other weekend.
Steve had initially thought the problem was solved, now that you had somewhere to officially call home. He knew that ferrying your stuff between his and your Mom’s place wasn’t working, you seemed permanently exhausted, and you were often late for school if staying with your Mom. It hadn’t taken long to realise the problem ran deeper than that though. You were miserable when you were at your Mom’s, even now you only had to see her every other weekend. It transpired that your Mom never did anything with you despite insisting on seeing you so often. You were left to fend for yourself, with her never offering to take you anywhere or actually spend any meaningful time with you. Annoyingly, if anything cropped up over your Mom’s weekend, she wouldn’t make any exceptions. A birthday party, any kind of celebration, club tournament, trip, vacation, your Mom didn’t care. As far as she was concerned it was her weekend and that was that.
Now you were getting older Steve could tell you were growing resentful and he was at a loss on what to do. Talking to your Mom would get him nowhere; his relationship with her had long broken down. His suggestions of you trying to talk to her and suggest activities also never lead to anything. ‘She’ll just say no. She won’t listen to me, she never does.’ Ultimately, it was your Mom’s weekend with you, the onus was on her to try and forge a relationship with you. All Steve could do was sympathise when you complained.
“Can’t I just stay here?” You whine as you both head down to Steve’s car. “It’s not like she’ll even notice that you haven’t dropped me off anyway.”
“I think she would notice kid,” Steve says, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Besides, I’ll be there Sunday lunchtime to pick you up. We can do something nice, whatever you want.”
“Can we go out for lunch? That sushi place that I like?”
“Sure, if that’s what you’d like.”
You perk up a little but can’t help continuing, “I still don’t want to go to Mom’s.”
“I know, kid. But she’s still your Mom so you have to go every other weekend until you turn eighteen.”
“How come I don’t get a say?”
Steve sighs, not really sure how to answer that one, “I don’t know. Custody laws favour the parents I guess. Though it’s good that you keep in touch with your Mom, right? You wouldn’t want to not see her completely.”
“I guess not but I wish I could just go for one night. And not sleep there. Like, maybe I could see her for a couple of hours every other week. We could go out for dinner. That’d be nicer.”
Steve nods, “You know she loves you though, right? In her own way.” You shrug your shoulders and Steve sighs again. “Just try and have a good weekend.”
“I got invited to a sleepover tomorrow night and I didn’t even ask Mom ‘cos we both know what she would’ve said.”
“You can have your own sleepover next weekend if you want; you could have a couple of friends round. I’ll order in pizza or whatever you want.”
You cheer up a little at that, “Thanks Dad. I love you.”
“Love you too kiddo. Always,” Steve says.
You take out your phone, counting off every weekend you’re at your Mom’s for the rest of the year, and you groan, “Oh for- I’m going to be at hers over Christmas. It’s going to be so boring.”
“Maybe I can have a word with her and-”
“She didn’t even let me stay home for 4th of July, she’s not gonna let me stay home for Christmas,” You sulk.
Steve nods, understanding your point. The 4th of July had finally fallen on a Saturday so Tony, even though Steve had asked him not to, had organised a big party with fireworks to celebrate Independence Day but also Steve’s birthday. It was the talk of the entire compound; it was going to be the biggest celebration they’d had in ages with no missions coming up, and everyone was involved in the preparations. You’d realised it had fallen on your Mom’s weekend so you’d asked if you could skip a weekend. She’d said no. You’d asked if you could go to hers on Friday night, go to the compound for the celebrations, then came back on Sunday for a few hours. Still no. Steve had appealed himself, but your Mom had gone on a rant about how he was trying to damage your relationship with her. Nothing had been able to change her mind, and you’d sobbed the entire drive to your Mom’s house. The celebrations had gone ahead without you, and Steve knew you were still upset with your Mom for that. He was too - not having you there hadn't made it very enjoyable.
“I’m sorry kid,” Steve says. “But I’ll see what I can do about Christmas, alright? I promise.”
You sigh, and nod, turning your attention out the window. Steve glances at you, feeling guilty. He always does when he has to drop you off at your Mom’s, knowing that you don’t want to be there.
He pulls up outside your Mom’s apartment building and reaches over to give you a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Love you kid. Be good for your Mom, okay?”
You nod, climbing out of the car and swinging your bag onto your shoulder. He watches as you punch in the code for the building, then let yourself in. Steve stays there for a moment before pulling away from the curb, already counting down the hours until he can pick you up again. He’s glad the contact has been reduced to every other weekend, but seeing you so miserable once a fortnight is still difficult. Especially knowing he’s dropping you off somewhere you’ll be left to just get on with things. At thirteen he knows your self-care skills are good, but he still doesn’t like it. Independence should obviously be encouraged and he does his best, but you at least know he’s there to catch you if you fall whereas your Mom just isn’t. There’s nothing he can do though so he just drives home, reassured that you at least have your phone and can call him if there’s a problem.
Your first text arrives when Steve makes it back to the compound, followed by one every half-an-hour for the rest of the evening. He doesn’t mind – he knows you’re just bored. You send him a photo of you playing a new game on your Switch, sitting in your bedroom in your Mom’s house. He’s always struck by how basic your room is there – in the compound Steve can’t even remember what colour your bedroom walls are, they’re so covered in posters and photographs. Whilst your bedroom here is a physical representation of you and your personality, your bedroom at your Mom’s just looks like a spare room.
When he gets out the shower he finds another text from you complaining that you’re bored, and he texts back that your bedtime is coming up, and that hopefully tomorrow your Mom will suggest something the two of you can do together, even though he already knows she won’t. It breaks his heart to think of you in her apartment, hoping that she’ll finally pay you some attention, only to constantly be let down.
Your text messages die off and Steve figures you’ve gone to sleep. He can sometimes have a bit of a battle getting you to go to bed at 9:30PM on a school night, with lights off at 10PM, but at your Mom’s you go to bed on time, probably due to boredom. He stays up later, watching a film with Natasha and Sam, when his phone suddenly chimes.
‘Can you come and pick me up please? Me and Mom had an argument.’
Steve hesitates, knowing that your Mom won’t be happy but you’ve asked him to get you. When Steve became a Dad, the one thing he’d promised himself was that he’d always show up when you needed him, no matter where you were or what time it was. Although you usually text him complaints whenever you’re at your Mom’s, you’ve never once asked to be picked up early. Something pretty bad must’ve happened.
It takes Steve twenty minutes to get to your Mom’s apartment building. The moment his car pulls up outside, the door to the building opens and you come out, rushing to his car and throwing your bag into his backseat. Steve climbs out of the car, taking your arm, “Hey, hey, what happened?”
You wrap your arms around him, and he holds you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you cry, “I asked her about Christmas and she said no, that I have to go to hers. Then she made me feel guilty, saying she’d be alone but I don’t- I didn’t-”
“And that caused a row so bad that you needed me to pick you up early?”
“I just started saying all this stuff,” You sob into his chest. “About how she doesn’t care about me, that she only pulls this shit to get back at you, that it’s pathetic. I said I hated her and I think that shocked her and then she said- She said-”
You sob harder and Steve runs a hand up and down your back, so focused on your upset that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you off for swearing. “What did your Mom say, kiddo?”
“That she hates me too and she hates our weekends together too, that it’s boring, that she’d rather be out…” You hiccup between your sobs. “I don’t wanna see her anymore.”
Steve sighs, “Okay... Okay. I’ll figure this out. I’ll speak to Tony’s solicitor again, see what she says.”
“I’m literally not going, if you drop me off I’ll just runaway and-”
“Slow down,” Steve says. “Let’s take this one step at a time, okay?”
“I wanna go home,” You sniffle.
“Alright kiddo, let’s get you home then.”
Steve walks you around to the other side of the car, opening the door for you before going back around and climbing into the driver’s seat again. You’re still crying and he squeezes your shoulder, giving you a small smile before starting the car engine. His mind is going a hundred miles a minute, thinking of all the appointments and meetings he’s going to have to attend, but right now the important thing is getting you home. Maybe your weekends at your Mom’s will have to continue for a while but he won’t break his promise – he’ll try his best to fix this for you. And in the meantime, you’ll always have him. And he’ll always be there when you need him.
Summary: Steve comes back early from a mission and stops in to see his favorite neighbors
Warnings: none, domestic fluff, mom!reader, female reader, use of Y/N, descriptions for longer hair, named child, anxious Steve
A/N: another dive into Alex's world with his momma and Steve! Written up through a long weekend and some family stuff going on. I kinda went through and edited the story each time I opened it up in my notes so sorry for any errors. Enjoy another 5ish minute ficlet. Also updated a couple paragraphs that I re-read that made no sense 😅💛✨️ Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Prev: Got Milk? Next: Got Fries?
Y/N smiled, sitting on the living room floor, folding tiny laundry and watching Alex toddle back and forth between his drawing table and his toy bin. Alex had been walking for a month or so now and his steps were getting more confident every day, Y/N just knew he'd be running around causing more chaos sooner than later. She shook her head at the thought, the pride and love she felt made her smile. Alex giggled as he plopped down with one of his soft interactive books, setting in beside her, right on top if the pile of unfolded sleepers.
A knock interrupted her thoughts, causing her to slowly drag herself up off the floor, using the couch for support, "One Moment!"
"No Problem!" Steve's comforting voice came back muffled through the door. The smile quickly spread wider on Y/N's face as she got up with a bit more enthusiasm, making a quick pit stop at the entryway mirror to check the state of her appearance. With a roll of her eyes at her reflection, she swipped the pads of her fingers under her eyes trying to rid herself of old flecks of eye liner and mascara that she had been too tired to remove the night before. Deciding to let down the messy bun her hair was trapped in, lead to a second decision after cringing as she hurried to put it back up in a way that was semi-presentable. Steve ran a hand through his hair anxiously as he stood waiting, holding a small bouquet of flowers and some toddler crayons he found for Alex. Having spent enough time around the two in between assignments, Steve knew the little guy already loved coloring with all the different kid safe stuff Y/N gave him.
Y/N pulled open the door and smiled brightly at Steve, "Hey, what are you doing here? We thought you were out of town until Monday..."
Her voice trailed off as she took in the flowers and Crayola box in his hands, along with the nervous smile on his face, watching as he wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans.
"I got back early and wanted to suprise my favorite neighbors, so I uh, I figured I'd bring a little something with me too" he stumbled through his words, "Ya know, for the both of you..." he trailed off smiling lopsidedly a bit nervous realizing he had truly shown up unannounced. He took a deep breath and let his eyes settle over her for a moment, drinking her in after 2 weeks of being on an ops mission in South Africa.
Steve thought she always looked adorable with her hair up on top of her head in whatever it was she called it. The oversized blue tshirt with a roughed depiction of his sheild on her chest made his heart flutter, a small pair of sleep shorts on as well with what looked like sleepy stars, moons and suns and fuzzy mismatched brightly colored socks that seemed so uniquely Y/N allowed him to slowly relax in her presence. He slowly made his way back up to her flushed face, realizing as she was staring back at him, he had been caught.
Within seconds, both of them broke into laughter overhearing Alex squeal from the living room having spotted Steve in the doorway. Steve watched over Y/N's head as Alex rolled to all fours and quickly pushed himself up to his feet.
Y/N thinking quickly, stepped aside to pull Steve into their chaotic apartment as gently as she could by the collar of his jacket and closed the door locking it behind him before her son could play his second favorite game, escape artist. Y/N watched as Steve knelt down to catch the little boy in his arms before he could run past them out the door. Steve abandoned the gifts on the ground in favor of lifting Alex up into the air without a second thought as though it was second nature.
"Look at you buddy! You're walking so good!" Steve praised the little boy as he pulled him close to his chest, shifting him into one arm to tickle his belly. Alex squealed again with full body giggles, which in turn caused Y/N to burst into a giggling fit as she picked up the crayons and flowers off the ground, pausing to smell them happily. Y/N laughed into the bouquet of colorful daisies caught in the pure happiness of her sons laughter, unaware of how content Steve was admiring her as she moved towards the kitchen.
Alex giggled and babbled up at the super solider, happy to have his friend back and see his mommy happy.
"Feel free to settle in the living room, we were watching some old Scooby Doo cartoons and doing laundry" Y/N called from the kitchen, pulling out a rarely used vase for the daisies happily.
Steve nodded and made his way into the smaller living room of the 1 bedroom apartment. It was definitely a different layout than his own 2 bedroom corner unit, the living room was half the size and from what he had seen the bedroom was a fair size smaller too, maybe a 10 by 10 room with a closet and a bathroom that came out into the bedroom and by the dining area opposite the entry way. He felt bad, knowing the space would be hard to maintain as Alex got bigger.
As he settled with Alex on the couch, he watched as Alex giggled happily and wiggled out of Steve's grip. The little boy proceeded to then slide expertly off the couch, swiftly knocking over a pile of his tiny folded pants as he made his way over to his toy box on all fours. Steve chuckled and shook his head as he settled back into the sofa, relaxing in their space, feeling like he truly belonged there.
Y/N came back and settled back down on the floor with a huff, Steve's leg to her right as she went back to folding Alex's onsies and fixing the pile of little sweatpants with a soft smile on her face.
"How was your trip?" Y/N asked nonchalantly folding a pair of tiny socks. Steve snapped out of his train of thought and relaxed into their couch, giving her some vague details that he could, relaxing with them and falling into comfortable conversation.
As the afternoon moved on, the 3 of them felt frozen in time as Steve had helped with putting the laundry away and feeding Alex so Y/N could shower and eat something as well, enjoying the feeling of being needed, wanted for more than just his abilities as Captain America.
Alex rubbed his tiny eyes as he chewed up his last bite of mac & cheese. His little arms stretching up into the air, fingers pointed out as he let out a full body yawn in his high chair. Y/N smiled softly, wet hair braided along one of her shoulders, as she came out into the kitchen, leaning against the back of Steve's chair. "I should get him down for a nap, I'll be right back ok?" Y/N smiled at him softly.
"Of course, I'll be right here" Steve smiled at her, rising from his seat as he watched her gently wipe off Alex's hands and face. He moved to take the tray from Alex's high chair to wash it off while Y/N moved the tired little man into her room to lay down in his crib.
Once the tray was dry and Alex's lunch wash cleaned up, Steve moved to make some food up for Y/N, knowing she had refused before her shower, hoping that now that Alex was napping she'd relax for a bit and take care of herself too. That was OK though, Steve was happy to be there to support her. Maybe she wanted him to be her partner. That quick thought ran through him, putting a smile on his face. This time for sure, before he left today he was gonna finally ask her out. His palms grew sweaty again as he gathered up his courage, speaking to himself softly as he made up a bowl for Y/N.
"Hey, so I know you have a baby sitter but... no, ok so I would like to take you to dinner, when are you off next? So, Y/N got any dinner plans this Saturday? Maybe we could do dinner and a show" he sighed and rested his head against the cabinets. A small giggle came from behind him. Steve turned with a bowl that had Mac and cheese with some ground beef mixed in for a homemade hamburger helper, Y/N stood behind him smiling, wearing a pair of leggings and that same Cap sheild tshirt with a cardigan covering up her cold arms.
"Dinner sounds nice, you know any sitters you'd trust for Saturday night?"
Taglist for the Got Milk au
@vicmc624 @frickin-bats
Comment or message to be added for future one shots into the Alex!verse
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 8: Soft Landing
Chapter Summary: Bad days come and go, and sometimes come and stay. So do people.
Chapter Word Count: 6867
Chapter warnings: Depression, talking around suicide/ideation, texting
A/N: Apologies, this chapter got heavier than I expected it to, but I think it ends in a good way <3
~
I was not having a great time.
There was no reason for it. Steve was great and happy, Bucky was doing fine, nothing terrible was going on at work, I had a decent life much better than most.
And yet.
It was actually a good thing that Steve had Bucky. All I had to do was mention being busy and tired from work and I got the space I needed to try and put my head on right. Or at least, weather the bad. It was maybe not the best idea– I had told Steve I wouldn’t shut him out– but I wasn’t really pushing him away. He was busy too, way busier, so we already wouldn’t be able to see each other. When he texted, I replied, and everything was fine. It was fine. It was going to be fine.
~~~
I put my head in my hands and tried to focus. The apartment was full of little messes all over the place and I really needed to clean, but I didn’t know where to start. The kitchen was pretty essential, but so was the bedroom, and what if Steve came over and saw the state of the living room–
I took a deep breath and grabbed a stray wrapper. It wasn’t enough. But it was more than I had been doing, so I tried to cling to that. Baby steps. Baby steps. If I took enough of them, maybe I could find my way back to adult functioning.
~~~
I kept going to work, I ate, and I slept. I counted those for wins, and slogged on.
~~~
After a little over a week, I started thinking that maybe I should tell Steve, and wondering how to do so without worrying him. Keeping up even basic communication was starting to drain me and I had promised to tell him when things were hard. It was just…hard. Like everything.
Steve: Hey sweetheart
Steve: I’m so sorry but dropping in ETA 10 min
That was…surprising. And I sat longer than I should have, considering it, because when there was a heavy knock on the door I jumped to my feet in surprise, and scrambled to answer before I could overthink anything.
The sight of Steve and Bucky looking beat up shocked me to some degree of normalcy. Their clothes were rumpled, their hair was nothing but mess, there were streaks of dirt and other things I really didn’t want to think about along with rips in their clothing. A fading bruise was big and obvious on Bucky’s face, and Steve was leaning so heavily on Bucky he obviously couldn’t walk right on his own. The only reasons I didn’t have an immediate heart attack were Steve’s smile and Bucky’s exasperation.
“What happened?!” I asked and immediately stood aside so they could come (or rather, so Bucky could half-drag Steve) inside.
“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Steve said, well after the point of worry. And a few telling seconds after I asked the question.
“Does he have a fucking concussion?” I asked Bucky as I moved to go get the first aid kit from the bathroom.
“Probably. He fell–” Bucky hissed in pain, and there was some quiet squabbling while I dug under the sink. As I was crawling back out and dusting myself off, Bucky finished, “…Not…that…far? But he did hit his head.”
“I’m fine!” Steve called out and I could only roll my eyes as I picked up the kit, snagged a couple rags, and walked back into the living room. Somehow, they (or just Bucky) had finagled the couch blanket open so they could sit on it, which was a nice gesture for the couch, but I also had to bite back on some fretting because I really liked that blanket. I sucked it up, in the interest that I liked Steve and Bucky more, and maybe it would be fine and not a nightmare to clean. I went to kneel next to the table so I had space to open up the kit and start taking things out.
“Steve, if you can’t walk on your own, are you really “fine?’” I asked as I started pulling out the basic supplies.
“Really, it’ll be okay,” Steve said. He had a lazy grin that was entirely too cute for how distressing the whole situation was. “You should see the other guys.”
“You are a such dweeb,” I said and quickly got up to go get some cold compresses while Bucky started actually taking care of his wounds.
“You smiled!” Steve said.
“Did not!” I called back, and hoped that the two ice packs I had would be enough. When I got back, I wasn’t sure who needed them more. I looked between Bucky and Steve, but Bucky made a ‘gimme’ motion and I handed them both over.
He slammed one on Steve’s head, making him yelp, but Bucky was entirely done with everything by the tone of his voice when he said, “Hold that there,” and Steve actually did as he was told. Scowling, but his eyes drooped a little, and he relaxed back against the couch as Bucky bent down and set the other ice pack against Steve’s ankle, which Steve secured by crossing his other ankle over it.
“Do you need help with anything?” I asked Bucky, doing my best to keep out of the way but unable to leave them be. “I draw the line at digging graves though. Too much fucking work; I’ll rent the car but that’s it.”
“No bodies,” Bucky said, puffing his chest out and…was he preening? For a definition of preening, considering that sort of thing was always muted with him, but he was definitely proud.
It made me smile a little. It definitely said some things that I found his pride at Not Committing A Murder very cute, but what the fuck was normalcy anyways, other than overrated. “Good job,” I said earnestly, and Bucky perked up even more. I sighed, and finally felt myself settle. They were okay. Well…okay for enhanced super-soldiers. Good enough. “Did you fall into an anthill of villains? How do you two get this banged up in fucking New York City?”
“You’d be surprised,” Steve said with a tired sigh.
“Okay. Surprise me,” I said. They were both quiet at that though, and shared looks between each other. I rolled my eyes. “Were there at least a lot of guys? Because if you two are getting this beat up by one or two people, I think maybe you should call someone right now.”
“Definitely a significant number,” Steve said. “Who are all getting arrested.”
“Some good Samaritans left them for the cops,” Bucky mumbled around a packet of alcohol wipes while he held his shirt up with one hand and dabbed at a gash in his side with a rag held in the other. I snatched the packet from him and opened it up. His hands were filthy as he took it out and I tried to focus down on something real to do.
“I’ll go wet the rags, but once you guys have the worst of it taken care of, you should really take a shower,” I said and went to the kitchen sink to start warming up the water.
“Oh, a shower,” Steve said, like it was a good idea.
“Hmm,” Bucky said and looked at him suspiciously. “Not until you’re sure your head’s all right.”
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Steve said, almost petulantly.
“Are you willing to stake my shower’s structural integrity on that if you collapse?” I asked, putting some warning into my voice, because if he broke himself and my fucking bathroom…
“Maybe we’ll give it a half hour and see,” Steve said quickly.
I wrung out the hand towel. Stupid; I should have grabbed more, but I took it back to Bucky so he could start on something before I did more useless fetching. They knew what they needed, but I was just puttering and wasting time–
“Just one more wet cloth’ll do,” Bucky said, snapping me out of my small spiral. The water was still running, so I nodded and went to get one more.
~
They were just cleaned up enough and already healing to the point where showers were okay. Steve went first, mostly because Bucky kept hesitating, and I cleaned up while Bucky picked at some thread, pulling open a hole in the leg of his jeans. I left him for a moment to grab some clothes. Luckily Steve had a couple of soft pants and t-shirts. I wondered if Steve wanted a shirt tonight or if he was going to go without. It should have been an easy decision– grab it or don’t– but again I got mired in my own mind, until I heard some shifting in the living room, and I panicked and rushed out with two shirts and two sweats. Bucky had only barely moved to slump more comfortably.
“These are Steve’s,” I said as I approached him. “You wanna pick yours first?”
He glanced at the clothes, but his face started slipping with exhaustion. “Can you pick?” he asked quietly.
“I got you,” I said and pulled out the (very slightly) softer shirt and pants. I set them by Bucky, and went to leave the other set in the bathroom. I stayed there for a moment, listening to the shower run without much interruption, and asked, “You still alive?”
“Yeah. Sorry,” Steve said.
“I just wanna make sure you’re okay,” I said and left him to it. Bucky had stopped forcing himself to look alert and aware; though he was still obviously awake, his eyes were shut. I was almost tempted to leave him be for the night, but he was filthy, and he kept shifting and grimacing. I knew what that felt like.
“Hey, Steve’s finishing up,” I said and went to stand next to him. “You’re next.”
He let out a groan that was almost a whine. “I’ll just…stay here,” he said and squinted his eyes open to look around.
“That’s not comfortable,” I said matter-of-factly. I kept the tone when I added: “And you smell.”
He grunted. “You won’t notice from the other room.”
The bathroom door opened and I looked back in time for my bedroom door to shut. The bathroom was still open though, with the light on, so I turned back to Bucky– who showed absolutely no sign of getting up– and decided on a new tactic: Being Annoying.
I started poking at his shoulder. Not hard, but repeatedly; over and over and over.
“Stop it,” Bucky grumbled, but the fact that he didn’t try to swat or push me away was a testament to his exhaustion. “Go bug your boyfriend.”
“Nope,” I said and kept on. “You're my friend and you need to get cleaned up too.”
“Don’t wanna,” he said, but it was light, and he sighed and slumped more to one side.
“Tough shit.”
“Hm.”
I squinted at Bucky with suspicion at the tone of that ‘hm.’ It was…odd. And he looked way too serious. “What’s wrong?”
“I wanted to ask you,” he said, looking at me like he was genuinely serious. It was stupid– I had behaved perfectly fine and normal for the first time in at least a week.
“Nothing,” I said honestly. Because nothing was wrong, everything was fine, and I was going to get over myself. Hopefully soon.
“Hm.”
“Why?” I asked, genuinely curious as to what he saw. But he just gave me another once over, and shook his head. Rats.
He got up, at least. I handed him the clothes, and it wasn’t until he had passed me that I realized I forgot the most important thing. “Oh– towel; I’m sorry, I’ll get–”
He opened the laundry closet, grabbed a towel off the side shelf, waved it above his head, and shut the bathroom door.
I stood in the living room for a few seconds, and sighed. “Stupid,” I said to and at myself as I went to clean up the first aid remnants and roll the blanket into a ball. I made it through putting that in the washer and got all the way to dropping the trash in the trash can before I had to stop and hold my head to try and get a fucking grip–
“Hey.”
I jumped a little, but relaxed as Steve’s hands smoothed down over my shoulders and he leaned in from behind to hug me. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said softly.
“It’s fine. You’re fine, so everything is– fine,” I said as I turned in his arms, my voice too stilted to even convince myself. He looked worried and I thought about what he might have seen. “I just have a little headache,” I said, flinching at my own lie as I traced my fingers across his forehead. “Not nearly as bad as the one you must have.”
He smiled a little, a familiar form of reassurance. “I’m feeling a lot better,” he said emphatically, and nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck.
I liked having him there, and I leaned my head against his. Not trapping, but holding. The shower turned off though and we both jolted. “That was quick,” I said.
“He doesn’t really linger,” Steve said and groaned as he stood straight. Bucky came out into the living room, and…flopped into the chair. He leaned his head back, and I briefly rolled my eyes. This time it was my apartment and I made the rules. I cracked my knuckles, and Steve flashed me a grin. His eyes were squinting a little too hard though, and he sighed as he dropped the act to show how tired he truly was.
“Go straighten up the sheets; I’m gonna poke your boyfriend until he vacates my chair,” I said. Steve gave me a quick, sloppy kiss. “Ew; go to bed, you big lug.”
I waited until Steve was in the room before going over to Bucky and whispering, “If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll sleep on the couch, but you’re getting in that bed.”
He huffed, but it was a sound like amusement. “I just didn’t want to steal your bed,” he said quietly.
“You’re not. I’m not that nice.” I patted his shoulder and stood. He stayed. I rolled my eyes and started poking his shoulder repeatedly.
He leaned his head back and moaned. “Harder.”
I smacked his shoulder. “Get up, asshole. I’ll rub your shoulder in bed if you get there in the next minute.”
He let out a most put-upon sigh, but got up and shuffled to bed. I followed, turning off the lights, and got into bed behind Bucky, on the opposite side of Steve. It was a tight fit, but I didn’t intend to be in that position long. Steve had more room on his side anyway.
“Hey,” Steve said, squinting one eye open.
“Annoyance didn’t work. Bribery did,” I said and started massaging Bucky’s shoulder.
“Can I get one?” Steve asked, opening both eyes. “I like bribery.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. Stupid, adorable idiot. “Sure, if you want a massage when you’re half-asleep. Or you could take a raincheck.”
“Raincheck,” Steve said and cuddled closer to Bucky who was already falling asleep. Bucky huffed and draped his arm over Steve, and both of them drifted off. I waited until they were both very much asleep to get out of bed to…get ready for bed. I took my pajamas out of the drawers and almost went to the bathroom, but I just…couldn’t find it in me to care. I gave one solid glance back, and then started changing. Hopefully Bucky was tired enough not to wake up and look. But I still couldn’t dredge up the energy to give a shit about almost anything. That wasn’t a great sign, after my boyfriend got dragged in bloody and fucked up. I had to tell Steve about this stupid fucking mood. But later. For now, I crawled into bed, and after only a moment of hesitation, cuddled up tight against Steve’s back, and shut my eyes.
~
I woke in a different position, breathing heavily and closed in on both sides.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Steve said, gripping my hand and rubbing my palm with his thumb.
Bed. I was in bed, it was dark, Steve was in front of me…and that must have been Bucky behind…
“Fuck,” I groaned and fell apart on the pillow.
“It’s all right,” Steve murmured. “It was just a dream. We’re here; we’re okay.”
“Okay.” I inhaled through my nose and exhaled slowly. “…‘We?’”
“Do you remember the dream?” Steve asked.
“Um…” I licked my lips and tried to remember. “You were…somewhere. Somewhere bad. Bucky followed. I couldn’t find you. It was…bad.” I wanted to fall apart crying so badly, but the thought of doing it in front of both of them made me sick to my stomach.
Steve leaned in to give me a kiss. “It’s all right now. Go back to sleep.”
“Don’t wanna,” I said even though my eyes closed on their own. Traitors. At least I could turn my face towards the pillow, put my hand to rest over my eyes, and let the tears drain, silent and unnoticed, into the fabric.
~~~
It was a couple days later. I hadn’t gotten the courage to tell Steve, and then he had to go away, and I was…not well. But telling him via phone seemed like a shitty thing to do, and I had been some measure of ‘fine’ so far, so what was a few more days…
Someone knocked on my door and I jolted up. My heart started beating faster, because who was that? I waited, but it wasn’t Steve, because Steve would have said something, so why was someone else–
The person at the door finally said something. I couldn’t hear the actual words, but I heard the tone, and the voice, and my stomach dropped. Bucky. Oh no. Oh no.
I stood frozen for a few seconds before I slowly, quietly, drifted over to the door with a growing sense of dread. How could I tell him to leave? Would he be sad; hurt? Feel abandoned? He was a grown-ass man and not my responsibility and it was entirely reasonable for me to turn away an unexpected visitor, but for some reason it just felt…wrong. Too mean, maybe, without an excuse, but the more I wracked my brain, the less I could think.
“Hey,” he said, low and quiet but just barely understandable. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just open the door? …Please?”
I sighed. But I opened the door. Just a crack. “Uh, hey,” I said, trying to sound normal. I blinked a few times, because of course now I had to feel the waterworks welling up. “What’s up?”
“Something,” he said. “Sorry, but it’s probably better if your neighbors don’t see me lurking.”
I looked back, at so much mess, but…fuck it. I let him in, still trying to keep my face flat and even. “Are you okay?” I asked. I dared to glance at him. He was staring right at me.
“I wanted to ask you,” he said. “But I think I got my answer.”
And there were those fucking tears. “I’m fine,” I said through my constricting throat.
“Doll,” he said gently. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.”
I let out a laugh– and a tear. “Is there a right way to take that?”
“Hm.” But he sighed. “Fuck– c’mere,” he said softly and pulled me into a hug. I didn’t go willingly, but I didn’t resist. I didn’t hate it, I…I wanted it. I just couldn’t reciprocate. So I just stayed, and leaned against him for several seconds.
“I’m sorry,” I said into his chest.
“I don’t think there’s anything to be sorry about.”
“I’m getting your shirt wet.”
“You're saving me an extra thing for the wash.”
I coughed and finally got enough strength to pull away. “Okay that is not how laundry works.” But my face was fully wet, and I swiped at it with my bare hands. “Please don’t tell Steve.”
“Did something happen?” Bucky asked, immediately on guard.
Poor boys. It was like all they knew how to do was punch things, but I didn’t hold it against them. If I could pull out my brain and punch it, I’d be tempted from time to time. A shame that knocking my head into shit didn’t actually fix anything. “Nothing happened. I’m a dumb fuck up.” I threw out my arms and dropped them. “I just…get like this sometimes. It’s stupid. But I told Steve I’d tell him when this happens and I…haven't, this time. Yet. Yet.”
“Okay,” Bucky said easily. “Have you…” He paused for a few seconds so I looked at him, and it seemed like he was trying to remember something. He put his fist up and started extending fingers as he listed: “Water, food, fresh air, shower.”
He looked at me, and for several more seconds, I had to parse what that was about. Then I got it, and felt dumb. “Oh. Are you asking have I…had those?”
“Yes,” he said. “Sorry. I forget the full sentence sometimes.”
“It’s okay.” I thought through the list. “Some, some, I’m not going outside, and…I can’t handle that right now.”
“Okay,” Bucky said, like that was that. He held up a bag on his arm and I jumped a little– I hadn’t even noticed that. “I brought dinners.”
“Dinners?” I asked, because plural?
“Yeah. I found some meal-prepping stuff,” he said as he shoved two containers into my fridge, and then a few into my freezer. “You’ll like ‘em, and this way you don’t have to think about food.”
“Oh.” I got choked up again.
He paused, and studied me. “Is it…okay?” he asked, suddenly uncertain.
“It’s really nice,” I said, warbling a little.
He nodded, resolute, and didn’t call me out on being a baby. “You’re still in work clothes,” he said, without looking at me.
I looked at myself. Oh, yeah. “I…I should change.”
“It’ll feel better, and the food just needs a few to heat up,” Bucky said.
I…shuffled off and went to change. The whole thing was starting to feel kind of surreal and I wondered about it, but then all I could think was ‘fuck it,’ and I changed out of my clothes and into my pajamas. Once Bucky left, I’d probably be going right to bed anyways.
I came back out to steaming bowls of perfectly arranged pho. It actually made me blink a few times and wonder just how long I’d taken, but Bucky didn’t say anything, so neither did I. I just took the stool he pulled out with a quiet, “Thanks.”
The food looked good, but my stomach ate at me. Bucky was quiet, and I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I knew what I didn’t want him thinking. “I’m not keeping this…mess…” I didn’t really know what else to call it, “–secret from Steve. I just haven't yet figured out how to say it.”
He nodded and started eating. I at least used my chopsticks to swirl the noodles around. “How long have you been dealing with it this time?” he asked.
I winced. “More than a couple weeks at least,” I mumbled. “I thought it was just…passing.”
“And then it stayed.”
“Yeah.”
“Hate it when that happens,” he said conversationally. I swallowed a lump, and instead used the spoon to sip some of the broth. It was really good. “Were you afraid? To tell him?”
“Not of him,” I said. “Just…I waited too long. And then I didn’t know the right way to…you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bucky said. I pulled one noodle onto the spoon, just to test it, while he continued eating normally and thankfully not being upset that I was so hesitant with good food he probably worked really hard on. “I was talking to Sam recently, about being frustrated I couldn’t do something the right way,” he said. “He told me, ‘done is better than perfect.’ Even if I do something a roundabout way, or not the best way, if I’m getting an end result that’s better than what I have, then it’s not wrong. It doesn’t matter when it gets done.”
“I don’t know that it applies when it involves another person’s feelings,” I said and sipped some more of the broth, and managed to get down some more noodles. I was eating. This was a good thing. “It might be shitty to do to Steve.”
Bucky tilted his hand back and forth. “Is he any better at bringing up feelings in person?”
I gave that the moment of thought it deserved. “Only slightly, which isn’t saying much,” I said. I sighed. “Okay. I’ll…figure out what to say, and text him.”
“You don’t have to,” Bucky said firmly. “But it’s obviously eating at you, and you’ve got enough to deal with.”
I almost let out a laugh at that. “I don’t have anything to deal with. I’m just…” I shrugged. “A piece of shit sometimes.”
He was quiet. I was quiet. We ate for a little bit before I said, “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “I just don’t know how to respond to that,” he said. “Seems like bad manners to argue with a woman in her own home.”
I snorted. “That doesn’t sound real. You made that up.”
“All manners are made up.”
Someone with a little more brain power could argue with that, but I let it be the light-hearted nonsense he intended it to be. “This is really good,” I said, lifting my chopsticks. “Thanks.”
“Good,” he said. “It’s good for you, and easy to get down. All you have to do is boil the broth, then add the noodles.”
I nodded, but it was all I could do. When I found myself chewing on a vegetable for longer than was necessary, I moved the bowl a little away from me. “Done?” Bucky asked. I nodded, and he scooped my bowl away. He put some wrapping on the top, stuck it in the fridge, then went about washing his own bowl in the sink.
“You don’t have to–”
“I want to,” he said. “I can help. If that’s okay.”
“I don’t want to take advantage,” I said, but I rested my head in my arms.
“I’ll let you know if you ever get there,” he said, and stared right at me, like this was a promise he was making. “Okay?”
It took me a few seconds. “Okay.”
He nodded, then went back to cleaning up. “I’ll stay another hour,” he said. “But if you want me to kick rocks before then, just tell me.”
“I was just gonna go to bed early,” I admitted.
“Good. Get some sleep,” he said.
I tilted my head. “But you’ll need me to lock the door behind you.”
“No you won’t,” he said easily.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why.”
He smirked, and used his towel to flick me away from the counter. I went, but hesitantly. “Is that supposed to help or hinder my sleep?” I grumbled.
“Just remember that I’m the scariest thing that could get into your apartment,” he said.
I stopped at the door and held up fingers with my points. “One: you’re not a thing,” I said. “Two: …you’re a dick.”
He tossed the towel on my head. That was probably fair.
~
It was three in the morning, and I wasn’t getting back to sleep. I’d had a solid few hours though, so that was…good. I chose to take that as a good sign. Maybe I was getting back to normal. Maybe I didn’t have to tell Steve about me being a fucking mess for almost an entire month now, and he could fully enjoy whatever the hell he was doing in wherever the hell he was in Europe.
I tapped my fingers on the kitchen counter, and sighed.
Me: Hey
Steve: Hey
Steve: Is everything all right?
I stared at my phone for a little bit.
Me: Yes and no
It actually took me a few minutes of going back and forth on what I wanted to say after that. I kept typing out something, then deleting it again.
Steve: Sweetheart?
Shit.
Me: Everything is fine. But I’m not…feeling well
Me: And I just
Me: Wanted to tell you
Me: Since I told you I would
Me: Am I making sense or is my brain garbage
I groaned and put my head in my arms, and stayed like that until my phone buzzed again.
Steve: Yes to the first, and if I understand correctly, then probably also yes to the second right now.
I actually almost smiled.
Steve: I will come home if I need to.
I rolled my eyes. Drama queen.
Me: You will not
Me: I’m FINE
Me: Not like, fine-fine, but fine enough that I’ll feel bad if you come home for this
Steve: Okay
Steve: You would tell me if you needed me though, right?
Me: Yeah
Me: As long as the world was gonna keep turning without you doing whatever
Me: I need the world to keep turning
Me: I live here
Steve: Fair enough
Steve: Thank you for telling me
Steve: I appreciate it more than you know
I certainly hoped so. I felt drained, and I didn’t even have to have a real-life conversation.
Me: In the interest of being honest, it wasn’t easy
Me: But it also helps a lot to know you aren’t going to flip a u-ey and come right back home-
Me: -just because I’m a headcase
Steve: In the interest of being honest
Steve: If it was really bad, and the world wasn’t ending, I would think about it
Steve: Because as much as the world needs to keep turning
Steve: I need you to do the same
I sighed. It was a mean sound; I was glad he wasn’t there to hear it.
Me: I haven't checked out yet and I’m not going to
Me: Not to be TOO morbid, but that shit is way more work than people give it credit for
Me: At worst, I’ll just be miserable. You don’t have to worry.
Steve: I’ll worry a little
Steve: Because I have been there
Steve: And it is hard. But sometimes opportunities make it frighteningly easy.
Steve: And I’m always going to worry regardless-
Steve: -Because I love you and wish you didn’t have to be miserable
I swallowed hard. Immediately my stupid fucking brain started telling me all the ways Steve could off himself without it even looking like–
I hit my head against the counter, and started repeating, “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” just to have something else to focus on.
Me: I’ll still be here when you come home
Me: I’ll always still be here
Steve: I’m looking forward to it :)
Steve: I look forward to it every time
Steve: I’ll let you know when I land back in the city; I’ll bring dinner over, and we can just lay on the couch
Steve: Just you and me
He then sent a line of kissy faces that were so stupid, I almost let out a laugh just on reflex.
Me: You are ridiculous
Me: But I love you too <3
~~~
Some days later, there was a perfunctory knock. My stomach twisted in guilt, but I got up even though I heard the key sliding in, and stood just a few feet away so Steve would have space when he entered. He did so with a few plastic takeout bags, and a bright smile.
I had to admit, it felt good to see him. It felt even better when he immediately set the bags on the counter space next to the door so I could go up and wrap my arms around him, and he hugged me tightly in return.
“Hey,” I said into his chest. “How was the trip?”
He let out a heavy sigh, and reached back to lock the door without even looking. “It is so great to be home,” he said as we parted, but he kept one hand resting lightly on my side.
Part of me wanted to ask if it really was all that great, but thankfully I bit down on it. That was way too self-centered, and I knew it. That was one of the most annoying things about depression– the constant ‘me, me, me’ of it all, even when you knew better. “I’m glad you’re back,” I said instead.
“So am I,” he said. “Let’s take the food to the couch and settle in for the night.”
~
We picked at the food for a little while. Well, I picked; Steve ate. I was sure it was good, I just…didn’t really care enough. I worried, though, that Steve would think I was ungrateful, or be hurt that I completely ignored what was otherwise a really nice gesture…
I set the container down and tried to clear my head. “I’ll– I’ll eat it later,” I said as Steve set his empty container down next to mine.
“It’ll make really good leftovers,” he said and sat back against the couch, pulling me with him.
“Thank you for getting it,” I said softly, but I cuddled close and held tight. The TV was on, mostly just for ambient noise, because I wasn’t really paying attention to it and I got the feeling neither was Steve. We stayed like that for a while, until I finally got the nerve to say, “I’m sorry.”
Steve let that sit for a moment. “Is it a bad thing to ask what you’re apologizing for?” he asked softly. “You don’t have to apologize for being in a bad place.”
I swallowed. “I um…haven't been in a good place for a few weeks now.”
I waited. For the guilt, when he inevitably asked, ‘why didn’t you say anything,’ ‘didn’t you promise to–’
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said and kissed my head.
And then he didn’t say anything else. I actually had to sit and process that for a second. Not that I thought he would try to make me feel bad, but maybe he’d be hurt. Instead, he was…still gentle. “Really?”
“Sweetheart, why wouldn’t I be sorry to hear that?”
“I…was worried,” I said. I couldn’t look at him. “I waited so long to tell you; I was worried you might be mad.”
He squeezed me. “I’ll never be mad that you’re having a hard time. Even if part of it is that you’re having a hard time telling me you’re having a hard time.”
“Maybe…maybe ‘mad’ is the wrong word. Disappointed maybe?” I muted the TV and tried to think. “I told you I would tell you when things got bad and I didn’t. I felt bad about it and maybe I was projecting, but then when I thought about telling you, it felt late, so I felt guilty, and then it was later, and I felt even worse, and then…it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you. I did want to tell you. But I didn’t know that I could handle…how you might react. And I didn’t know how you would react.”
“Because brains are stupid sometimes,” Steve said, entirely too reasonable for the whole thing, but he pulled me up even closer into his arms and kept me in a tight hug.
“I didn’t mean to shut you out,” I said, still feeling miserable, even though he wasn’t mad or sad and I could see it and feel it but I still felt…like I deserved it. Like I deserved worse than I was getting. And I didn’t know if it would be better or worse if I’d actually gotten a bad response– whether I could find closure in that, or if it would just make me spiral more.
I flinched against the thoughts. It didn’t matter– Steve reacted how he reacted and that was his business. I would deal.
“How about this: I’m not your therapist. I’m not going to make you talk in depth about your feelings.” Steve flitted his hand. “Not like my glass house needs another broken window.”
I snorted.
“And you don’t have to be on top of it all the time. I could never expect that,” he said. “I asked you to tell me because you shut me out the first time and scared me. This time you never retreated away from me. And you did tell me. That’s all I could ask for. It is all I ask for.” He nuzzled my head. “So if I can promise one thing, it’s that if you ever say, ‘hey, I’m having a hard time right now,’ I’m not ever going to be disappointed in you. No matter how long it takes you to bring it up. There’s no time limit. I care to know because I care about you. Nothing more– nothing less.”
There was a lump in my throat, and I had to swallow it back. “Okay,” I said and hooked my pinkie. “And– you too?”
“Me too,” he said softly and hooked his pinkie in mine. “No matter what, I always fight like hell to get home.”
I could only nod. I couldn’t think about that right now, about the fact that no matter how much he wanted, someday he might not–
I squeezed my eyes shut, let out a frustrated sigh, and shoved my face into his chest. “Brains suck.”
“The worst,” he agreed. He shifted. “Let me put the food away, then we can really settle in for the night. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, and moved to let him up, even though I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go. I did feel tired though. That was a good sign, right?
“Um…”
I looked over at the kitchen, but Steve was out of sight behind the counter. All I could see was that the fridge was open, and I imagined Steve was crouched in front of it. “Is everything okay?” I asked. The fridge wasn’t full; I had just seen it.
“It’s fine,” Steve said too quickly, shut the fridge, and walked back over to me. I watched him carefully, though, and when he re-took his spot, I did not lean into him right away.
“If you tell me you saw a rat or a cockroach, I might fucking lose it,” I said. “But I will definitely lose it if you don’t tell me.”
“No, no critters,” Steve said and tugged me to lean into him. Before I could press, though, he asked, with a slight measure of dread in his voice, “Bucky told you he stopped by, right?”
I didn’t know what he meant by that. “He stopped by when I was here, so…what are you talking about?” I asked, wondering if I was going to have to schedule a new talk on boundaries.
But Steve breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good; I saw the Tupperware in the fridge and you hadn’t mentioned, and neither had Bucky, so I was worried that…”
“Oh.” I relaxed for real then. So much so that I almost smiled at the thought of opening my fridge and having to wonder what fucking Chef Santa had broken into my home. It was kind of funny. “Bucky’s good at telling things about people. He brought over food so it would be one less thing I had to think about.”
“Oh,” Steve said, sounding appropriately touched.
“Yeah, I thought so too,” I said and cuddled back up against his chest.
“I didn’t even say anything,” he said, but he wrapped his arms around me and again we settled.
…I did snicker a little.
“What?” Steve asked.
“Our lives are weird,” I said and looked up at him. “You knew Bucky had been by and that neither of us had mentioned it, and your assumption was that he broke in to leave food in my fridge without me knowing.”
He did shake slightly with some quiet laughter. “Well, I’m not exactly one to talk,” he drawled. “But if you want another boyfriend, you’ll have to talk to Bucky about it.”
I elbowed him. As well as I could, in my position. I actually felt comfortable and didn’t want either of us to shift at all. “You’re enough of a handful.” I shut my eyes. “He’s a good friend though.”
“Good,” Steve said quietly. “You haven't been sleeping, have you sweetheart?”
“Not well,” I said. “Are you comfy?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“Mm hm.” I let myself relax. “I’m just gonna…rest my eyes for a little bit.”
“Okay. Rest your eyes then,” he whispered and pulled the blanket over my shoulder.
“No.” I tried to shrug it off. “I don’t wanna fall asleep out here.”
He put it back. “Too bad.”
I fell asleep in the middle of grumbling mean things at him. Well, at least being a jerk was par for the course for both of us.
A/N: hey everyone i have a crush i cant do anything about so i made it everyone's problem in the form of this fic. also i swear bucky's coming back to my writing with a vengeance
“Coulson, slow down,” you grumble. The clock reads an ungodly hour, and Coulson’s near-incomprehensible speech only propels you further into half-conscious annoyance.
“Get up,” Phil urges. “We found him.”
⋆⋆⋆
You lean in, ears straining as Captain America addresses Agent Horowitz.
“Where am I, really?” he says.
Your eyes dart back and forth between several screens.
“Shit,” Fury hisses. A moment later, you hear the door slam behind you.
“Told you!” you call after him as Horowitz reports a Code 13.
You turn around to look at Hill, who watches the monitors with her arms across her chest.
“I told him,” you say as Captain America breaks through the walls, shoving agents to the ground.
⋆⋆⋆
Fury takes a seat beside you with a huff.
With your eyes on your computer, you start, “I–”
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”
Maria peers at you over her screen, flashing you a barely-there smirk. You instead ask a question to satiate your curiosity.
“Is…he okay?”
Fury gives an exasperated shrug.
“Said he had a date.”
⋆⋆⋆
“How’s the apartment, Captain Rogers?” Fury asks. Across the desk, Steve sits, shifting uncomfortably as the chair struggles under his frame.
“Fine,” he says curtly, his eyes flitting between all the different objects in Fury’s office. You and Maria share a look.
“Have you been getting enough rest?” she asks.
“Trying.”
“Well, we have another meeting to run to, Captain,” Fury says, “but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. The agents have a gym in the basement, and the dining facility is on the tenth floor.”
He stands up; you and Maria follow closely behind.
There’s no meeting. You had planned to spend an hour with Captain Rogers, but it’s clear there isn’t much to say. You look back at Steve with his head low, his back hunched.
“What do we do, Fury?” you ask, closing the door behind you.
“Give him time.”
While Hill and Fury retreat to their offices, you change into your workout clothes and make your way to the basement. You’re surprised to step out of the elevator and see an impossibly muscular frame standing by the gym entrance.
“Captain,” you greet. He’s peering past the glass with a slight grimace, staring at the equipment–fancy, shiny things with a thousand buttons each.
“Agent,” he responds, replacing his uncomfortable expression with a solemn nod.
“Nice, isn’t it?” you say, standing beside him to observe the room together.
He chuckles, more out of astonishment than anything.
“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes shift downwards at his feet before peering back up, watching your coworkers sprint on the treadmill or re-rack their weights. “It’s something.”
“What are you gonna do?” you say, eyeing the leg press machine that’s calling your name. You look over at Steve just as he glances at the punching bag. He opens his mouth to answer you, but then he notices the odd wires coming from behind the bag, the complicated mat beneath that seems to be flashing at least five different colors. He closes his mouth and instead shakes his head.
“Just giving myself a tour,” he answers.
You tilt your head at his fib.
“You got a minute?” you ask, your request earning a raised eyebrow.
⋆⋆⋆
“Migs!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up at the sight of the combat gym owner.
He yells your name in response as you meet in front of his business’s entrance.
“Appreciate it, Migs,” you say as the older gentleman pulls you into a side hug. You wrap your arm around his back, returning the embrace.
“Anything for you, kiddo,” Miguel, a near-father figure who has a few decades on you, responds as he unlocks the gym door.
Behind you, Steve smiles at the friendly exchange. He stays a good distance away, partly out of respect and partly out of caution.
Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the man built like a linebacker with striking movie-star looks.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Miguel demands, gesturing at the hero in the shadows. Steve blinks in surprise. In the past few weeks, he has been the center of attention–not unlike his life before the ice, but somehow completely unlike it at the same time. Despite his longing to be invisible once again, he’s taken aback that someone doesn’t recognize him.
“A friend,” you tell him, shooting Steve a wink. He smiles, welcoming the anonymity.
Miguel turns on the lights, illuminating the gym in dim orange. Steve steps in, admiring the weathered facility. Surrounded by muted walls, a dusty floor, and tattered boxing ropes, he feels a sense of comfort that’s completely novel to him since coming out of the ice.
Miguel takes all of thirty seconds to show the captain around.
“We got mitts, gloves on the rack over there,” he says, keys jingling as he gestures around him. “Boxing ring with a round timer, obviously. Uhhhh, jump ropes, elliptical–if it’s working. And then you got the bags…Oh, and we also got one-on-one training-” Miguel pauses, scanning Steve from head to toe “-if you need that sorta thing.”
Steve chuckles, murmuring his gratitude.
“You need anything else, ace?” Miguel asks you.
You shake your head. “Just sign up my friend for a membership, and we’ll be good.”
Steve’s head snaps up at your request. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
As Miguel passes you an application on a clipboard, you say, “Good thing you didn’t ask.”
⋆⋆⋆
“I hope I’m not overstepping,” Steve tells you, gesturing for the waiter as you slide into the booth.
“Not at all,” you say, still catching your breath from hurrying over. You’re not sure why the captain has called you, but you know it has to be important. Steve’s eyes drift to your brow, where a butterfly bandage holds a wound closed.
“That Loki’s a fun one,” you say, bringing a hand to the injury. You don’t feel the need to indulge him in the details of nearly getting buried underneath a collapsing building. “Is everything okay, Captain?”
“Steve, please,” he insists.
“Is everything okay…Steve?” Though you’ve seen the captain’s name printed in briefs and articles a million times, it feels odd to address him by name. “Miguel didn’t try to charge you that ridiculous sweating fee?”
He lets out an amused exhale through his nose and shakes his head.
“It’s funny you mention Loki. I…wanted to ask your opinion. On the Avengers Initiative.”
Surprise paints your face. You weren’t expecting to be Captain America’s advisor tonight. But you lean back and sigh with the weight of his request. Your waiter comes to take your order, giving you a few moments of reprieve.
“I know what Fury would want me to say,” you say after your waiter exits.
He leans forward, resting clasped hands on the table.
“I want to know what you want to say,” he implores, his piercing gaze making it difficult to collect your thoughts. You take a deep breath.
“I think…you need time to heal,” you begin. “To recover. I mean, not like I’ve got the experience, but something tells me you don’t wake up after seventy years fully assimilated. In a perfect world, you would get all the time you need to be okay before getting back out into the world, let alone saving it.”
He knows the answer, but he presses, “And what world is this?”
The words feel heavy on your tongue.
“One that needs you.”
You watch his troubled eyes, the twitch of his lip.
“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” you say.
He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yeah,” he mutters to himself.
He looks up at you, repeating: “Yeah. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”
“Glad I could help,” you say. You peek over his head, trying to peer into the kitchen. Steve nudges his plate towards you, and you gratefully take a few of his fries.
⋆⋆⋆
“Dillard, find out what’s going on in Bay 3 for me. So what do you think?”
The upper half of your body is hidden under thick pipes. You peer closely at the maze of metal, willing the leak to show itself.
“He’s…cute.”
You lift your head to look at Nat. The loud bang echoes throughout the room as your head meets pipes. You wince, dragging yourself out of the underbelly of Helicarrier plumbing. Nat raises an eyebrow as you rub your head.
“Not what I thought you were going to say,” you reply.
“So you disagree?” she says, tilting her head.
“Uh. No?” you say, tapping nervously on the wrench. She smiles as you avert your gaze. “How are the…other ones? Thor and Dr. Banner and the rest?”
“I should probably make sure they’re not tearing each other apart,” Nat says, rolling her eyes. “You coming?”
You look around you. The hull is so much quieter than the rest of the carrier, allowing you to bask in comfortable silence while you and your crew work.
“Nah. Hill is better at that kinda stuff. I’ll be here if you need me.”
⋆⋆⋆
Above you, the ceiling shakes slightly, scattering dust around you. You stand up slowly, the sound of distant rumbling calling your attention.
“All hands to stations.”
“Shit!” you cry, dropping your tools and sprinting up the stairs.
Agents are running all around you, and the hallway is flooded in flashing red. You have no idea what’s going on, but you rush to the weapons room, ready to defend the Helicarrier from god-knows-what.
You crash into someone’s shoulder, the force sending you spinning to the ground. Strong hands grasp your arms, lifting you to your feet.
“Sorry,” Steve says between breaths.
“Steve,” you say. “What’s going on?”
“Under attack. Be safe. Check in later.”
“Copy that.”
He clasps your shoulders again before disappearing into the crowd of agents. You watch him for a second before turning around, continuing on to the weapons room.
Agent Weaver catches up to you.
“First name basis, huh?”
“Shut up.”
⋆⋆⋆
You hesitate before rapping on the door three times.
Steve greets you with a smile. Beads of water are dripping from his hair down his neck. He’s in sweatpants and a white tee that could definitely be sized up. As you enter his apartment, he hands you a takeout container.
“Thanks for coming,” he says as he closes the door behind you.
“Well, when you bribe me with shawarma…”
He laughs, but he’s rubbing his hands together and crinkling his eyebrows. You set your food down and plant yourself in front of him.
“Hey, it’s just a debrief,” you tell him, wrapping your hands around his biceps. Your touch brings him back to reality. “It’s no big deal. Fury just talks for an hour.”
“Yeah, it’s…been a while since one of these, I guess.” He tries to laugh it off.
You leave his side, sitting down at the dining room table.
“If it makes you feel better, you did about two million dollars less damage than Bruce and Thor.”
“It’s not that.” He throws himself on the couch, stretching his legs along the cushions. “I guess authority has never been a big fan of me.”
“Authority doesn’t get along with Captain America?”
“Authority doesn’t get along with the punk that lied about fifty times to get into the military.”
You speak between bites: “Then you must’ve gotten along with Tony Stark. Wonder why Nat said you had your panties in a twist over him.”
He perks up, resting his arms along the back of the couch. “She said that? Exactly like that?”
You snicker at his sudden interest, choking on a slice of tomato. “Does that bother you?” you tease.
He concedes, leaning back on the couch’s arm. “That Stark is something else. I wonder what Peggy would say if she knew I almost fought Howard’s son.” Steve stares at a spot on the wall, his mind a flurry of what-ifs.
⋆⋆⋆
Ambush. You’ve been tasked to partner with Captain America for his first official SHIELD assignment, and it’s a fucking ambush.
“Stay close,” the captain says.
Steve tosses his shield at someone behind you. You hear them slump to the ground while another approaches; the shield narrowly misses you as you duck and sweep your leg out, causing a third henchman to crash to the floor.
“Watch it!” you say before Steve knocks you to the ground, shielding your body while a whizz of bullets flying past.
“Guess someone has to,” Steve shoots back before pulling you up. You roll your eyes as you unholster two weapons on your belt, one pointed to your left and the other pointed behind you. You pull both triggers without batting an eye. You don’t bother looking; Steve’s mesmerized expression confirms that you’ve hit your targets.
Steve is speechless. He has never seen you in battle before, and it’s–
“Six o’clock, Rogers!” you say, causing the hero to duck down as you aim a bullet at a man sprinting towards you. You hear yet another coming from behind, and you aim a bullet at Steve’s shield. You turn just in time to see the ricocheted bullet take out the last goon.
Knowing you were safe, you let out a fatigued sigh and pat your newest coworker on the shoulder.
“Welcome to SHIELD, Cap.”
⋆⋆⋆
Macau was absolutely beautiful, but the jet lag never quite wore off, especially when your tasks still catered to Eastern fucking Standard Time. As much as you could appreciate the change of pace, you hoped Fury would never give you an assignment like this again.
- idk steve, seems a little unfair to assign me to track the train in vancouver when i was assigned the lemurian star just a couple weeks ago. did you KNOW what time it was over here?!
- anyway, im going to bed. night!
- You've only told me a hundred times. I’m glad it was you helping us out, even if you had to track the Star from thousands of miles away.
- Good night. Sweet dreams.
- :)
You smile at the three notifications on your phone. Tucking yourself under the covers, you reach over to turn off your night lamp.
Ring ring ring.
Maria’s name on your phone earns a prolonged groan from you. So first they schedule meetings at all hours, and now they expect you to pick up the phone at every possible second.
“Hill, I love you, but I swear to god–”
“You remember that sushi place? The one on 10th Avenue?”
You feel a sudden sweat forming on your brow, even though the air conditioner is blasting. You had first heard the coded emergency message years ago, when you first trained for SHIELD. Never did you think it would actually be used.
You clear your throat, forcing your voice to steady.
“Yes, we were there with your mom and your grandma.”
Is someone listening? Are you okay? Who compromised SHIELD?
“Right. I’ll talk to you later.” Maria’s voice betrays nothing before she hangs up the call.
You only brought a duffel bag to Macau, and you’re now shoving it full of underwear and clothes.
Wait, honestly, fuck it–Hill’s call told you scatter immediately, who the fuck cares if you had enough shirts?
You leave the SHIELD-sanctioned apartment, tossing your phone into a nearby garbage bin. You think of Nat, of Fury, of Steve. You wonder if they’re okay, but you have to settle for never knowing.
⋆⋆⋆
Red pixels fill your screen, slowly sharpening into a familiar face.
“Nat,” you gasp. Any suspicion about the unknown number on your burner phone melts away.
“Hey,” she says. She delivers her greeting with the nonchalance of a friend who has just seen you for brunch. “If you were a traitor, you would tell me, right?”
You match her lopsided smile. “No, of course not. Hey, what’s your social security number again?”
Natasha laughs, but her joy dissipates quickly.
“Nat? What’s been going on?”
On your end, you’ve been on the run, though you never quite knew who you were running from. You’ve had no contact with your coworkers since you received the call from Hill. You’ve heard various rumors, but you haven’t had the comfort of confirming their truth.
She peers somewhere off camera.
“A lot.”
She turns back to you, continuing: “He…hasn’t been good.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
You hold your breath as Nat stands up, willing her shaky camera work to still. You can barely make out their bare environment, lighted only by bars of fluorescent light.
“Maybe he should tell you himself.”
You watch as Nat hands over the phone. Steve looks up at her in confusion before turning towards her device. You see the relief flood his features. He says your name like it’s a breath of air after being held underwater.
“Steve,” you greet softly. “Are you okay?”
Steve presses his lips together. His eyes become dazed as he tries to find the words. After a few moments, you say his name again.
“I had a friend.
“A best friend,” he begins. “I thought I lost him.”
He hangs his head, and for a moment, all you see are strings of blonde hair.
“But the truth is much worse.”
The last time you had spoken, Steve was an explosion of excitement, practically setting the world record for longest run-on sentence as he told you Peggy was alive. Now, your heart breaks at the sight of the dejected hero.
“He doesn’t even remember me,” Steve continues.
You want to cry for Steve and tell him everything will be okay. You want to invite him into your arms and hold him. Instead, something tells you to push that aside. You grit your teeth; your grip is tight on your phone. You have half a mind to book a plane ticket to…you don’t even know where they are, but you want to be there, dammit.
“Then do something he won’t forget, Steve.”
⋆⋆⋆
You rush through the halls, dodging white coats and crash carts.
Room 311, room 311, room 311…
An armed guard reaches out to stop you before recognition settles. You glare at him, but the delay causes you to rethink storming into the hospital room after Steve’s near-death experience. You peer at him through the window, pressing your hand onto the glass. With the stitches along his cheek, the bruising on his jaw, and the scrapes along his browline, he looks…fallible. Vulnerable. Human.
You make eye contact with the man sitting beside him. He looks unfamiliar to you, but the bruises and cuts on his face tell you enough. He gives you a slow nod before turning back to his book.
⋆⋆⋆
You and Steve lean in closely, pretending to be deep in conversation while you keep a watchful eye on Bruce and Nat. You lean against the Stark Tower wall while Steve stands in front of you.
“I knew it,” he whispers, testing the limits of his peripheral vision as he peers at his friends.
“Yeah?” you say, taking a sip from the flute of champagne.
He turns his attention away from the two to face you. “One hundred percent. It was a perk of being friends with Bucky–I could see the girls drooling from a mile away.”
“And if they were drooling for you?” you say, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.
“Yeah. Right,” he says, his eyebrows shifting upwards in disbelief as he takes a sip from his own drink.
“Maybe you just couldn’t tell,” you inform him.
“I think I would know, agent,” he tells you.
You reach out to adjust the collar of his shirt. As you pull away, your fingertips brush against his neck.
“I guess you would, captain.”
He gives you that dazzling, all-American smile before glancing at the bar. Nat looks up at the same time, locking eyes with Steve. He turns back to you abruptly, slamming his hand on the wall by your head in feigned nonchalance.
“Real subtle, Rogers,” you tell him. Tony rolls his eyes at the sight of you pinned beneath the captain’s body.
Steve drops his head, and you feel his hair graze your forehead. You’re glad he’s too engrossed in his embarrassment to notice that his proximity has made you dizzy.
“Shit,” he murmurs, stepping away. “Sorry.”
“Romanoff!” you call with a smirk. “Get the swear jar!”
⋆⋆⋆
“Can we talk about the mall again?” you question. So what if your words are slurring together a little, who cares?
Nat tucks her chin, willing you to continue with expectant eyes.
“So you mean to tell me…,” you begin slowly.
“Yes.”
“You look like that…And Steve looks like that…”
“Sure.”
“And your solution to avoid attention was to…”
“Kiss.”
“Kiss, right.”
You and Nat share a look before devolving into a fit of laughter.
“And it–”
“–worked!” Nat finishes. She takes a swig of her beer. “I’m good at what I do, agent. I don’t know what to tell you.”
Your eyes drop to the floor. You fiddle with the rim of your glass, before telling your friend:
“Tell me it meant nothing.”
Nat looks at Bruce, who has tucked himself between Dr. Cho and Clint. He looks on as Rhodey shares a familiar story, smiling and chuckling at all the right parts. He feels her eyes on him, and he gives her a smile that feels like home.
Her eyes move to Steve next, America’s hero for the better part of a century. He’s unmistakable. He commands attention, and he deserves it, too. He stands tall, knowing the world is always watching.
Finally, her gaze lands on you. You’re incredibly capable, magnificently skilled, and you would deny it all in a second. Her most humble friend, who declines the most notorious assignments to bask in the solace of the less glamorous work instead.
She reaches over the bar to place her hand atop yours. With all due respect, fuck Lillian with the lip piercing, and fuck Kristen from Accounting. Steve’s perfect match is right in front of her.
⋆⋆⋆
You feel your airways functioning again as the weight of the couch is lifted off of you. You swallow lungfuls of air, and the sudden intake causes you to choke and cough. Warmth radiates from strong hands on either sides of your head.
“Hey,” Steve croons. “Hey, I’m here.”
“Actually, I wedged myself between the couch and the floor,” you groan through the sharp pain in your ribs, “in hopes that Thor would rescue me from the big metal man.”
Your poorly-timed joke catches Steve off guard, and he finds himself laughing as he searches you for any hidden injuries.
“Yeah, you definitely have a concussion.”
⋆⋆⋆
You watch as the unfamiliar number blinks on your phone, but something compels you to answer. Steve’s face appears on your screen, an apologetic smile painting his face. The last you heard, the Avengers were following a lead on Ultron before going dark.
“Steve! Are you okay?”
He peers around him. You can make out a sunny window, rustic decor…is that a child’s toy?
“I can’t stay for long,” he says. “But–yes. We’ll…figure it out.”
He sees the concern on your face, and he knows what you’re about to say:
“What can I do?”
“Lay low,” he says, almost immediately, recalling how Ultron nearly ended your life with Stark’s god-awful furniture. “Keep yourself safe.”
You rub your temples. It’s as if you’re being dragged back to SHIELD’s dissolution, hurtled into a life of mystery and solitude that you hadn’t asked for.
You see a wave of red as Nat pushes her head in between Steve and the camera.
“At least five bad language words since we got here, agent,” she says. You laugh, already picturing the look Steve is giving her behind her curtain of curls. “Wish you were here.”
“Me too.”
Steve watches her walk off, and then waits a few moments longer.
“I saw her,” he tells you, his face dropping all signs of amusement.
You shake your head, trying to piece together what Steve wants to tell you.
“She said the war was over, that we could go home,” he continues. “Then I was back, here. On the ground. Alone.”
“You’re not alone, Steve,” you insist.
But he doesn’t quite hear you.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve scoots into the booth, unbuttoning his black suit jacket. You take the seat right beside him. He lets out a subdued sniff and asks you how the convention went.
“I know the world needs you to be big and strong,” you tell him, “but I don’t.”
You open your arms, and he chuckles before resting his head on your shoulder. You envelop him in a hug, rubbing his back.
“Never ask me about those boring fucking conventions again,” you murmur, feeling his tears fall onto the shoulder of your blouse. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Steve.”
Steve fishes around his pocket and brings out his compass. At the press of a button, it opens, revealing a photograph of Peggy. She looked breathtaking, with her strong jawline, perfect curls, and fierce gaze. Steve hesitates, then passes the device to you. You move your arm from Steve to hold the memento with both hands. You run your finger over the photo’s fading edges.
“And she liked you?” you jest to cover the emotions that are running through you. Why are tears prickling your eyes?
“Once,” Steve responds with a chuckle as you pass him back his most prized possession, “a long time ago.”
He sits up, stiffening. Before you can question the change of demeanor, he confesses, “I…can’t sign the Accords.”
You give him a faint smile, as if it hasn’t been the topic of discussion at the Madrid convention. You were more than happy to meet him in London, especially if it meant getting away from chatty politicians with pesky questions.
“I know, Steve,” you say, holding his face in your hands. You run your thumb down his cheek, erasing a drying line of tears. You ignore how the air leaves your lungs as Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. “I know.”
⋆⋆⋆
“You’re too good to be down here, agent.”
Sharon pauses her scribbling to punctuate her sentence with a smile.
“You know this is where I like it,” you tell her from the other side of the bulletproof panel. Sharon slides the sign-out sheet back to you. You stifle a laugh as you read that Go Fuck Yourself has signed out two quantities of kiss my ass. Right before you buzz her into weapons lockup, she stops you.
“Wait,” she says abruptly, startling you. “Are you sure?”
Since the day you took him to the boxing gym, you have become Steve’s safe place. In times of need, on the run with Nat or holed up in Clint’s home, he desperately wished you were there. Never mind the comforting touch or the distracting joke, just your presence beside him was enough to turn the weight of the world into a bag of feathers.
Now, Steve has called in a favor. Get the shield and the wings to Sharon, and she’ll cover the rest. No big deal, just betray the federal entity you work for and be indefinitely on the lam. Run, and don’t take any chances.
“Never been more sure in my life.”
You press the button harder than you need to, and the door swings open. Sharon steps through, taking in the towering rows of weapons.
“Whoa,” she says. The massive basement room was the perfect place to house all of the CIA’s most dangerous arms, including Captain America’s shield and the Falcon’s wings.
You lead Sharon through shelves of alien technology and massive guns.
“Might’ve been less sure if I had a metal hand punching me into the wall, though,” you say, looking back at her as she tries to rub out the pain in her back.
She snorts and shakes her head. “I’m glad you were far away from that mess,” she says earnestly.
“Didn’t really have a choice. When we went into lockdown, I was shut in.”
You shudder as you remember the weapons rooms’ light cutting out suddenly, plunging you into darkness. An agent had announced a code red over the walkie, and you sprinted towards the door–just in time to watch the metal gates slam down. You had pounded on the metal, desperate to escape. Your gut told you what–or rather, who–played a role in the Code Red.
You grunt as you pull on the box. It falls to the floor with less grace than you hoped, and Sharon tugs it open. She lights up at the sight of the vibranium shield, her smile wide and her eyes bright. She catches your eye and immediately drops her smile.
With a shake of her head, she apologizes and says, “Um…thank you.”
⋆⋆⋆
“West entrance, thirty seconds,” Nat tells you. You hear her tapping on her keyboard, and the doors in front of you hiss open. You creep quietly into the darkness of the Raft corridor, with Steve following closely behind.
Steve presses his fingers to his ear. “We’re in.”
“Wait for my signal,” Nat murmurs. “You have three minutes to take down the guards, then about five minutes after that before their backup arrives.”
“Eight minutes?” you say incredulously. “Steve, she thinks we’re amateurs.”
Nat snickers from the comforts of the Quinjet. “Just know, if you get caught, I’ll sleep soundly knowing I left both of your asses behind.”
You feign a horrified gasp. “Steve! Cover your ears!”
You don’t have to see him to know Steve is currently tilting his head in disbelief.
Nat cuts off any retort he might have had: “And now.”
You and Steve move in unison. He takes a boot to the door, and you spare no time to fire a hailstorm of bullets into the room. Your attack disarms several guards and destroys the audiovisual equipment. Steve tosses his shield around the room, and it bounces off the remaining guards, knocking them to their feet.
You place your foot on a guard’s chest, nodding at Steve.
“I’ll keep them here.”
The captain disappears into the cell block. You can hear the distant sounds of Steve breaking through jail bars, followed by triumphant cheers and joyous reunions.
Your earpiece crackles; Nat is switching you both to a different channel.
“Now’s as good a time as any,” she tells you.
You stare past the doorway, not quite sure how to respond. She continues: “We don’t know when we’ll see each other again. We’re fugitives now.”
A few minutes later, Steve reappears, a proud smile on his face.
“They’re headed to the jet,” he says. “We did it.”
You force a smile back at him as he leads you out of the room. His arm extends to your waist and you hold your breath; but, he continues reaching until he can close the door behind you and break off the doorknob. As he pulls away, you capture your hand in his. You love the way he laces his fingers between yours, almost reflexively.
“Steve…”
We don’t know when we’ll see each other again.
His eyebrows scrunch in concern. Were you injured? Did a guard send out an emergency signal? But your expression tells a different story; his cool blue eyes could bore holes into your skull. You can only stammer, so Steve speaks instead.
“Wherever you go,” he says, unlacing his hands to instead place it on your cheek, “I can always be there. You just say the word.”
You close your eyes. You won’t know when you’ll see him again, and you lean into his touch, pressing his hand harder into your cheek.
“Two minutes,” Nat’s voice, barely audible, comes over your earpieces.
Steve pulls you into a hug.
“Check in. Stay close. Don’t take any chances,” he whispers.
How could you? The biggest chance you could’ve taken just slipped through your fingers.
⋆⋆⋆
“Oh my god! Thor?!”
Steve practically scoffs, scratching at his beard.
“I’m good, thanks,” he says. “How are you?”
“As good as I could be,” you say. You look around the feeble apartment, a micro-studio with a bed and a kitchenette. You landed in Shanghai after abandoning post, figuring one of the most populous cities in the world would be the perfect place to go into hiding.
Steve doesn’t seem to like that answer.
“I’m so sorry.”
“That a grown woman made a decision?” you scoff. “Sure, I forgive you, then.”
You raise a chuckle from him, and he feels that familiar sensation of relief and comfort at the sound of your voice. Steve made you a vagabond, but you held on tight to your favorite title of smartass.
“How about you?” you say. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” he says, pushing long strands of hair away from his face.
“You with Sam? Nat?”
“Nearby.”
“Bucky?”
“With a friend.”
You blow through your lips.
“Sharon?” You say your friend’s name as if it were a throwaway line.
Steve squints at you through the screen, and you shift uncomfortably on your mattress. Your eyes dart everywhere–anywhere but your phone–while you wait for his response.
“No,” he answers. “No idea where she is.”
You purse your lips. You weren’t sure what you wanted to hear, and you feel an odd mixture of happy and sad all at once.
“Are you just checking in?” Steve wonders. “Or–?”
“Yeah,” you quickly answer. “Checking in.”
Silence settles for a few moments, before Steve tells you: “I wish you were here.”
You give him a measly “me too” and a sad smile.
“Soon?” you offer, though it’s the emptiest promise you’ve ever given.
“Soon,” is his response, the biggest lie he’s ever told.
⋆⋆⋆
You promptly withdraw your pocket pistol, peering around the corner. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the CIA found you, but, damn, you just got to Cape Town. With your finger on the trigger, you step out of your hiding spot…
…and are greeted by familiar blue eyes.
“You said stay close, right?” Steve says with a smile.
You call for him breathlessly. Your body suddenly feels like jello and your knees threaten to buckle underneath you. Your gun nearly slips from your grasp as you run forward, right into Steve’s welcoming arms. He locks you in a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. You feel your feet leave the ground as Steve lifts you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to burst into tears.
With only the occasional video call being your only form of communication, you’ve nearly forgotten what Steve looks like from the shoulders down. When he puts you down, you hold him at arm’s length and stare, as if you’re trying to commit him to memory.
“Steve,” you say his name again, still reeling from the fact that he’s here, he’s really here. You shake your head vigorously. “You can’t be here–it’s too dangerous–”
“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I couldn’t go without you.”
“Go where?”
⋆⋆⋆
You squeeze your eyes shut as the aircraft passes through the translucent panels. When you open your eyes, the panels are behind you. The warrior piloting the plane smiles at your shock.
Steve watches you the whole time, captured by the sense of wonder painted on your face. He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder.
“Welcome to Wakanda.”
A small welcoming committee smiles brightly as you and Steve step off of the aircraft. Steve goes straight to a man with a bun, while the other two approach you.
“Greetings, agent,” the king greets you. “I am–”
“King T’Challa,” you say, meeting his handshake with fervency. “Your highness, it’s an honor.”
“The honor is all mine,” T’Challa responds with a smile. He gestures to the younger woman beside him. “And this is Princess Shuri, my sister.”
“Princess,” you greet. You reach your hand out, but quickly shift into a fist bump as Shuri reaches out a closed fist.
“Agent,” she responds with a grin. “I hope you will find your stay enjoyable.”
“Are you kidding me?” you say, then realizing you’re speaking much too casually for royalty. “I mean–the plane ride was easily the most luxurious experience of my life. I’m not sure how you’ll get me to leave.” Shuri’s grin spreads wider.
“I apologize, but we must be going,” T’Challa says. “But you have everything that you need, I assure you.”
You peer over at Steve, who grips the brunette’s shoulder as he laughs.
“And if you don’t,” Shuri calls as she and her brother take their leave, “you can ask any of the bald, mean-looking women.”
“Shuri!”
“They’re the Dora Milaje,” the man beside Steve explains as they approach you, “Wakanda’s elite warriors.”
Steve chest swells with pride as he introduces, “This is Bucky. My best friend.”
Bucky’s shakes your hand. He doesn’t wait for you to introduce yourself, instead saying your name to you.
“Heard a lot,” Bucky says with a smile. You glance at Steve, surprised that you’ve been a topic of discussion for the two.
“All good things,” Steve says, grinning at his best friend.
“Oh, great things,” Bucky adds assuredly as you feel your ears burning.
⋆⋆⋆
Ayo, one of the warriors, spares a few moments to meet you and Steve. She stands solemnly as you sit on the grass, your palms rested behind you.
“Bucky is, um…?” You’re not quite sure how to ask if the man is still capable of snapping your neck without an ounce of regret.
“We are working on it,” she says, keeping her eyes forward. You follow her gaze, watching as a group of children do and redo the best friends’ hair. Steve’s hair is first in a high ponytail, then two low buns. He catches your eye and waves, a wide grin on his face. You wave back as he and Bucky laugh at each other’s hairstyles.
Ayo follows Steve’s gaze back to you.
“We had arranged two bedrooms…”
You sit up straight with wide eyes.
“Th- And that’s totally fine.”
“It is no issue.”
Ayo walks away as Steve chases some of the children, feigning fatigue as they run away giggling.
“It’s a good look for him,” Bucky comments. Bucky is eyeing the three ponytails on top of his best friend’s head, but you’re taking in the sight of Steve consoling a child who has fallen. He gestures elaborately, as if casting a magic spell on the scrape. The child laughs and runs away, instantly remedied.
“It is,” you murmur.
You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you clear your throat. “Was–Was he like this before, too?”
Bucky cheeks puff as he releases an exaggerated exhale. “Hell no.”
“No?”
“Worse, so much worse. Insufferable, really.”
Steve jogs up to you. “They call you White Wolf, Buck? Do we all get nicknames?”
“Maybe,” Bucky says with a shrug. “You could be…”
“White Man,” you offer, earning a disbelieving look from Steve and a hearty laugh from Bucky.
“Or,” Bucky says, “I can tell them that Peggy called you–”
Steve shoves his friend, earning another laugh from the brunette.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve leans his forearm against the window. Below, the city lights dance, bright glimmers against an otherwise dark night.
“It’s good for him here,” he tells you with a smile on his lips.
“Wakanda looks good on you, too,” you say. The bed shifts as you stand up, joining Steve at the window. Wakanda is absolutely beautiful, and you understand why the country is hidden away from the rest of the world. “Maybe you should stay here.”
“Maybe we should,” he suggests, “but clearly their space is limited.”
You and Steve peer back at the singular bed that occupies the room.
“I told Ayo–”
“And I told Bucky–”
“It’s no big deal, right?”
“Right,” Steve says, mirroring your doubtful tone.
You both gingerly approach, like two idiots who have never seen a bed before. He cautiously approaches one side while you approach the other, slipping in and leaving as much space between you as possible. Steve scoots closer ever so slightly, but grabs a pillow, fluffing it and placing it between you two.
You and Steve spend a few minutes staring at the ceiling until your eyes form warped images in the darkness. Eventually, he sighs. You turn to ask him what’s wrong, but instead see him take the pillow and toss it across the room.
“Fuck it,” he murmurs, pulling you into his muscled chest.
“Language,” you mutter. But your eyelids already feel droopy as sleep pulls you under. Tonight, sleep smells like sandalwood and feels like heaven. Tonight, your dreams are blonde wisps and bright eyes that threaten to pull you into the ocean deep.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve is just broad shoulders and sullen disposition from your spot in the darkness.
“...Tony Stark, also known as the hero Iron Man, has been reported missing…”
“Get your things, Steve,” you say, stepping out from the shadows.
You’re the only thing that can pull Steve away from his racing thoughts. He forces his eyes off the screen, away from the image of a grinning Tony.
“Where are we going?” he says as you reach out to tug on his shoulder, a silent urge to gather his things. His hand finds a home over yours, holding it in place.
“Edinburgh.”
⋆⋆⋆
You start the search again, maybe the fifteenth time in the past five minutes.
The bar slowly fills up, reaching one hundred percent…
No results found.
“Nothing, Steve,” you tell him, your voice hoarse. Thanos might as well have vanished.
The captain is still for a moment before his hand comes down on the console table. After the glass breaks and the books clatter, you can only hear Steve’s deep breaths as he tries to calm himself. He takes long strides towards the door.
No results found.
“Steve–don’t take any chances. We’ll find him,” you say pleadingly. “He knows we’ll find him.”
As Steve mourned Bucky back in 1944, he wished he had something to bury. A final home for his best friend. A meeting place for him to visit. Something, anything to remember him by. Now he has his ashes, and he realizes how stupid he was to think it would bring him any relief.
No results found.
“Then he should be here to tell me himself.”
You flinch as the door slams shut behind him.
⋆⋆⋆
You pull a brown plaid shirt from Steve’s closet. You hold it up to his frame.
“I should’ve told you this eleven years ago,” you say as you pull the shirt off its hanger, “but you should really size up.”
He chuckles as he takes the shirt from you, slipping it through his arms. You begin to button the shirt as Steve looks on through the mirror. These days, he’s not quite sure who it is looking back at him.
“I don’t know what to tell them,” he says. If he wasn’t so numb, he might feel anxious. His stomach may have flipped at the thought of the support group sitting in a melancholic circle, staring at him, waiting for his words of wisdom.
You give him a sad smile, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He captures your hands in his before you can pull away.
“Tell them what you told me,” you say, and your hands slowly slip from his grasp. “About Peggy.” You give one final tug on his shirt before sending him on his way.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve looks anxious at your weekly dinner. He pushes around the contents of his plate without taking a single bite. You watch him, waiting for him to speak. When nothing ever comes, you ask him yourself. He drops his fork, finally stopping his nervous assault on his sliced carrots. He can’t stop thinking of Scott Lang, waving at him from the security cameras.
“What have you heard about…time travel?”
⋆⋆⋆
“Buck, can I…talk to you?”
Steve’s hesitant question causes you to put down the bandage. You’re not quite sure why Steve called you to the compound at this hour, and you’re even more unsure of why he was nowhere to be found while you made yourself comfortable in the kitchen. You feel lucky enough that Bucky made his way down, looking for something to sterilize his wounds. Usually, you would kill time talking to Nat, but–
“Sure,” Bucky answers. He gives you an unreadable look as he disappears with Steve into his room. You keep yourself busy, cleaning up the used medical supplies, until the super soldiers reappear. You see Bucky’s jaw clench ever so slightly; otherwise, he is nearly expressionless. He approaches you, nodding towards Steve. You slip off of the kitchen counter stool and Steve places his hand on your lower back, leading you into his room.
His room in the compound is nearly bare, save for what Tony has furnished himself. Not even the record player that he proudly found years ago, the only possession in his former SHIELD apartment.
You sit at the edge of Steve’s bed while he moves his armchair and plants himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, leans forward, and stares earnestly into your eyes.
“Steve?” You can’t ignore the feeling churning in your gut.
“You have been so good to me,” he begins. The inner parts of his eyebrows raise up in sincerity. “And I just want to say thank you.”
“You’re…welcome,” you say, a quip getting lost in your confusion.
“Tomorrow, I return the infinity stones.”
You nod. You knew that. He knew you knew that.
“And…I’m not coming back.”
You let out a wry chuckle. “Don’t worry,” you say, finding your voice suddenly hoarse. “You know Dr. Banner will make sure–”
“The last stone I have to return is in 1949,” he explains. Are you shaking your head at him? Is your entire body quaking? You’re not quite sure. “And I’m going to stay.”
I love you, Steve.
I love you so goddamn much.
I’ve loved you from that moment you sat in Fury’s stupid, flimsy chair.
I’ve loved you since you looked at me like I was your entire world, all because I took you to the worst gym in New York.
I’ve loved you in every moment, in every iteration, in every semblance of you.
And Steve Rogers, I know you love me, too.
You want to reach for Steve’s hand, but you’re frozen, and your clammy hands stay rooted in your lap. You give him a smile that you hope looks genuine.
“You had a date.”
⋆⋆⋆
You leave Steve behind in his room, insisting he didn’t need to walk you out. Insisting you didn’t need to spend the night, or ask any more questions.
Bucky leans against the kitchen counter, unmoving. You move to stand beside him.
“He can’t,” you whisper as you approach. Your fists are clenched so tightly that you’re nearly drawing blood.
“He made his choice,” Bucky responds. He matches your hushed volume, but his collected tone contrasts your panicked timbre.
“He can’t,” you say again. Maybe he didn’t hear you correctly.
“It’s his life,” Bucky tells you, in the same even voice.
“He can’t.” Your knees can’t hold you anymore. You’re falling, and Bucky catches your wrists in an effort to keep you from slumping to the ground.
You fight against his grip. You find the sides of your fists beating against his chest. Bucky falls with you. His cold eyes stare ahead, into the darkness beyond the compound. Your tears are hot, pouring onto your face like streams of lava.
He can’t
He can’t
He can’t
⋆⋆⋆
“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”
“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”
You watch the best friends pull each other into an embrace. Bucky’s smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
Steve turns to you, and your bitter frown turns into a painted smile. His muscled arms pull you into a hug next.
“Check in,” he says.
“Stay close,” you respond, closing your eyes and breathing him in. Your eyes squeeze shut as you pull him into a tighter embrace. When you release, Steve flicks away a stray tear from your face.
“Don’t take any chances.” He lingers a moment too long with his hands pressed against your jawline, his eyes searching for something unknown in your expression. Eventually, all too soon, he steps into Dr. Banner’s machine. At the press of a button, he’s gone.
Bruce counts down, preparing his machine for Steve’s return, one that you know won’t ever happen. Eventually, beside you, he and Sam break into a frenzied argument, but somehow they sound so far away.
“Sam.”
Bucky’s sharp voice draws the attention of the three of you. You follow Bucky’s gaze to an elderly man sitting on a bench. You can only see the back of his head, but you gasp.
Your feet are carrying towards the man, right alongside Sam and Bucky.
You can feel Sam’s perplexed gaze shift from you to Bucky.
“Go ahead,” Bucky urges.
You feel like you’re watching from miles away as Sam slowly approaches the captain. Every heartbeat feels like your heart is sinking further down into your stomach, and you force yourself to walk away. As soon as your back is turned, the tears flow freely. You stifle your sobs, disappearing behind a tree, out of sight from the other four heroes.
Bucky keeps his smile as he watches the astonished Sam receive the shield, just as he and Steve discussed. He sees the journey ahead for Sam, the man with a future yet to forge.
He glances back, seeing only a portion of you behind a tree trunk, heaving with the weight of your burdened cries. His heart aches for you, a lifetime of possibilities turned into memories of the past. The light at the end of the tunnel was simply a mirage for the woman left behind.
Summary: You have this ability to bring out Steve’s sassy side, which is evident with yours and his constant bickering. That changes, though, on a camping trip.
Authors Note: Just pretend that jellyfish are in lakes.
Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)
Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist
PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.
It was a known fact within the Avengers that you and Steve Rogers did not get along. You thought that he was too stuck-up and bossy, always in the “Captain” mode, and Steve thought that you were too reckless and never listened. The two of you frequently got into arguments whenever and wherever — so it was no surprise when the bickering started as they were walking.
“Who’s bright idea was it to go camping again?” Tony asked as they trudged up an incline.
“Steve’s, I bet,” you said almost instantly, trailing behind the billionaire. You’d take any opportunity available to insult the Captain.
Steve, who was in front of Tony, looked over his shoulder and paused for a moment. “You really had to ruin the peace by talking, didn’t you?” He snapped, already a bit grumpy as this was meant to be a bonding trip for the team and all you and Tony done since leaving the tower was complain.
“Oooh, cranky, are we? It would’ve been rude to leave Stark’s question unanswered, wouldn’t it? As the Please and Thank You Police, I’d think you’d understand,” you bit back without hesitation.
“I am so not getting in the middle of this,” Tony muttered, stepping around you and heading towards the back.
As he found a place besides Natasha and Clint, the sounds of yours and Steve’s voices growing louder and louder could be heard. “You really had to get them started?” Natasha complained.
“Please — they can make an argument out of anything. What do you want me to do, never talk again?” Tony said, scoffing.
“Yes,” the spy and the archer deadpanned.
Once the team got up the incline, they found a nice clearing to set up their tents. As everyone got to work, though, you became distracted. There were tons of bugs flying around you, just waiting to take a chunk out of your skin.
Having finished setting up his own tent, Steve smirked as he watched you flail around in vain. “Having trouble there?” He teased.
You paused momentarily to glare at Steve and then slapped your arm when you saw a bug there, muttering an “Ouch” which only made Steve’s smirk grow. “If you don’t have bug spray, don’t talk to me, Rogers,” you said, annoyed.
“Oh, I do have bug spray, but why should I give it to you? Maybe I will if you say please and thank you . . . I am the police of it, right?” He said, throwing your own words back in your face.
You scowled at him. “Never.”
“Suits you,” Steve said, shrugging. “You know, isn’t it odd that a big, scary Avenger like you is afraid of some tiny bugs?” He grinned.
You rolled your eyes, opening your mouth to give him a remark when Tony’s sudden boisterous laughter cut you off. Turning around, you narrowed your eyes at the man. “What?”
Tony gestured around. “Everyone has chosen who they’re gonna bunk with . . . Which means you and Rogers are stuck together,” he said.
Sure enough, as you and Steve looked around, everyone was standing side-by-side at their tents. Frantically, you looked at Tony, finding that he was alone. “Can‘t I room with you?” You pleaded.
Tony smiled, shaking his head. “I’d like to sleep in peace — which means, no roommates. Sorry,” he said, but didn’t sound apologetic at all.
Your gaze slowly found Steve, the both of you frowning. Steve’s eyes were fixated on Tony, his jaw set as he glared at his supposed friend. “Trust me, I’m not fond of this either,” he said, before dragging his eyes to meet yours. He forced a smile. “But it looks like we’re stuck together, sugar.”
A dangerous flash sparked in your eyes but before you could gnaw at him for that nickname, Natasha appeared at your side, placing a calming (and warning) hand on your arm. She gently pulled you back. “How about we have a campfire?” She suggested, changing the topic of conversation.
Around ten minutes later, the group was situated around the campfire. You and Steve were as far away as you could get, a move orchestrated by the others. You sat next to Natasha, twirling your marshmallow around at the end of its stick. “I cannot believe how insufferable he is,” you complained, referring to Steve. “He never stops!”
Beside you, Natasha found herself unable to contain a smile. “You realize Steve has never talked to anyone like the way he argues with you, right? I mean, Stark comes close because he can be rather annoying but . . . I don’t think you realize that you get under his skin way more than Stark does. I wonder why,” she observed.
“He just has some problem with me and he’s too high up on his horse to actually be a human being about it. I mean, everyone is fooled by his Captainness, but he’s just an ass,” you continued on complaining, too involved with your own whining about him that you were oblivious to Natasha’s reactions.
She nodded along and continued smiling, humming a bit. “Mhm . . . So you hate his guts completely?” She prodded, before taking a bite of her marshmallow.
“As long as he hates mine and keeps being the absolute prick he is, then I hate his,” you said, before getting bored of roasting your marshmallow and eating it plain.
Natasha just shook her head. She couldn’t believe how stubborn you were sometimes but at the same time, with how you acted with and about Steve, it completely made sense. As you readied yourself to probably complain about the man again, she quickly changed the topic.
Thankfully, for the rest of the night, the Avengers managed to keep you and Steve from snapping at each other. After wrapping up the campfire, with night falling, the group lounged at the river. You, Natasha, Clint, and Tony had brought along bathing suits while Thor, Bruce, and Steve sat and engaged in their own conversations. The only incident that occurred was when Steve was skipping rocks and a pebble accidentally nailed you in the head. It was an actual accident, but you didn’t believe it when Steve was struggling to hide his laughter at your reaction.
“See, I told you. A prick,” you muttered to Natasha.
Natasha just decided to go along with it. There was no use arguing. But, as she observed Steve hide his smile and Bruce smack him lightly on the arm, the wheels in her head began to turn. He was usually so composed, the most composed, and would never laugh at even the tiniest of things that happened to a teammate. Unless it was you or Stark, of course. With Tony, it made sense. They had been at each other’s throats before, but Tony didn’t push Steve like you did. Tony didn’t make Steve disregard his usual composure like you did.
There was something different in how you affected Steve and how he affected you, Natasha was sure of it. She had been your friend a while and even though you complained about Steve, she had never seen you talk about anyone more.
Something was up. And she smirked, deciding to keep that piece of information to herself.
Slowly but surely, the Avengers started to wade out of the water and go to bed until it was only you and Steve left. The two of you kept to yourselves, keeping yourselves occupied and managing to not bother each other, until Steve’s gaze settled on you. He couldn’t help his smirk when he saw you yet again swatting at bugs.
“Do you need my shield to protect you?” He called out, teasing once again.
You turned around, ready to retort, when you felt a sharp and powerful sting just above your hip, on your abdomen. You instantly recoiled, jumping away with a yelp, before losing your footing and plunging under the water.
Steve’s posture straightened as suddenly, he stared intently at the water. Feeling his heart thump in his chest, the seconds felt like hours until you resurfaced, scrambling back. “Shit!” You yelled hoarsely, coughing out water.
Even from there, in the dark, he could tell that this wasn’t good. The soldier jumped up, sprinting into the water and not caring about the change in temperature as he waded over to you. “There was a jellyfish . . . And I hit my ankle against a rock,” you rasped, taking heavy breaths as you turned around and faced Steve. In that moment still, a small part of you hated that Steve was seeing you like this, but you didn’t have much choice.
Any and all thoughts and feelings of annoyance that he previously held towards you disappeared once Steve got close. He could see that you were upset and in pain. “Can you walk?” He asked.
You tried to take a step, but only ended up stumbling directly into Steve. He found his arms wrapping around you, holding you. You let out a frustrated grunt, lamely pushing at Steve’s chest. “I’ll be fine, I don’t need your help or any of your jokes,” you muttered.
Steve’s first instinct was to roll his eyes at your stubbornness, but then he realized what was going on: you weren’t foolish. He knew that at heart. He knew you. You knew you were injured and needed help. But you didn’t want Steve because of your relationship with him. You didn’t want him to tease or make fun of you.
The realization that you thought he would do that, that his past behavior had made you think that, made him gulp down a load of guilt. “No jokes, I promise. I just want you to be okay,” he said.
You allowed him to hold you, taking a moment to take some deep breath. You leaned heavily on Steve, unable to put weight on her ankle. “You’ve gotten yourself all wet now for no reason . . . Also, I don’t think I can walk,” you muttered.
“Well I’d say that it’s for a good reason, then, if you can’t walk,” Steve pointed out. “Can I carry you?”
You let out a long, slightly dramatic sigh. “If you must . . .” You said, knowing that Steve would have to carry you no matter what you said.
Steve smiled in amusement and gently picked you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he gingerly carried you back to the tent. It was a bit of a struggle to unzip the tent and actually get inside, but teamwork made the dream work and you two handled it.
Steve set you down on your sleeping bag before stepping away. “Lemme just change quickly,” he muttered, before turning away and changing into warm and dry clothes. You waited patiently, although you were cold and in pain yourself.
When he was finished, he knelt down beside you and gave you a small smile. “Okay, I have some stuff for the jellyfish sting,” he said, before digging into the bag he had packed.
You watched him, distracted from the pain. “Some might get the idea that you were an army nurse instead of a soldier with how good you are at this,” you teased, admiring how he seemed to know just what to do and what to grab.
“I spent a lot of time patching Bucky up as kids,” Steve explained, flashing a grin.
“I bet,” you said.
He carefully worked on treating your sting and when you felt his fingers against your flesh, you couldn’t help but flinch a little bit. Just the fact that he was so close was causing butterflies to swarm in your stomach, which then in turn made you blush. Not only that, but of course Steve’s touch was the softest and the kindest.
Steve glanced up at your face, his grin blooming into a smug smirk. “Are you warm, darling? Your face is rather red,” he teased.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you felt his breath, skin tingling. You were sure your blush had just deepened, and by the even smugger look on Steve’s face, it had. “On the contrary, I’m quite cold,” you changed the topic, referencing your wet clothes and the water.
When you first realized you might be attracted to Steve, it was when he got all mad at you for disobeying an order on a mission. You thought he was rather cute and hot when he was mad and barely listened to his scolding. But, you pushed it all down and was determined to hate him instead. You refused to admit you were attracted to someone who was able to crawl under your skin like he was, that just seemed to know how to annoy you the most and exploit it . . .
Now, though, you were seeing a different, non-annoying side of the famed Captain America.
Steve glanced at you and nodded in sympathy. “I’m almost done,” he assured you, before finishing up the treatment and applying a bandage. He then moved onto your ankle, muttering a small apology when you winced when his touch was too hard and hurt. “I don’t think you’ve broken it, but I’ll still wrap it just in case.” He did just that and got an ice pack for it.
You let out a content sigh at the coolness of it and leaned back. “Can I get your pajamas?” Steve asked, gesturing to your bag. A part of you didn’t want to appear weak and wanted to do it yourself, and Steve seemed to sense your hesitation. “Don’t worry, I still know that you can tear me down with just your words alone. Just let me help you. I won’t think any less of you and I’m more than happy to do it.”
At that, you gave in and nodded. “I might milk your help for a while, then,” you said, only half-teasing. The thought of sitting back and relaxing while Steve got you what you needed was tempting. Less for you to have to do, right?
He pulled out a Mickey Mouse themed t-shirt and black shorts, tilting his head to the side. “Cute,” he teased right back.
You rolled your eyes. “I just threw in whatever was in my drawer,” you defended yourself, catching the pajamas when he tossed them to you.
Steve just nodded and turned around, giving you your privacy. It took a little longer than normal, more difficult with your injuries, but you managed to get the pajamas on. “You can turn around now,” you told him.
Steve did and walked over, looking at your sleeping bag. “That will not be comfortable. I have a blanket we can share if you sleep on top of the sleeping bag,” he said, going to grab it.
You raised your eyebrows, but didn’t say no. “Are you sure?” You asked, shifting so you were fully on top of the sleeping bag.
Steve nodded with a smile. He laid down on his sleeping bag next to you and then draped the blanket over the both of you. “Good night, then?” He asked.
“Good night,” you said, returning his smile. You could not believe you were getting along with Steve Rogers, but you liked it.
Steve turned off the lamp next to him, plunging you both in the darkness. The only sounds that could be heard were the crickets outside. A couple minutes passed as you both got comfortable, but it didn’t take long for Steve to notice that you were shivering from the cold.
He pursed his lips unhappily. Even though he had been annoyed by your “recklessness”, he knew at his heart that you weren’t really reckless, you just didn’t like to listen to him. And, deep down, he knew that a part of him liked it. He liked that you were the one challenging him because it was . . . You. You had this way about you, this confidence and spark and fun. Not to mention, in Steve’s eyes, you were beautiful. But had had convinced himself that it would never work. You guys were too different, right? But ever since you got hurt, he couldn’t allow himself to ignore it anymore.
He wanted you and, if he was right, had a feeling that you wanted him, too.
Then, he saw you begin to swat at the bugs again, and smiled fondly. “Wow, still?” He said, his voice low and deep.
You let out a frustrated huff. “They won’t go away!” You complained.
An idea came to Steve and he decided to take a chance. “How about I shield you, then?” He suggested.
You paused, turning to him. “Huh?” You asked, confused.
Steve shifted closer and wrapped his arms around you, your head falling against his chest, nestled under his chin. When you didn’t move away or protest, he wrapped one leg around both of yours. “See? I’ve become your human shield. The bugs won’t get you now,” he said.
At first, being so close to Steve made the butterflies in your stomach fly around, but you began to relax after a moment. When the blond started running his fingers through your hair, you knew he was doing it to lull you to sleep. “This is just you wanting to cuddle with me, Rogers,” you teased, your voice sleepy.
“Maybe . . . But you like it. You’re gonna be out like a light within minutes,” he teased right back.
You let out a small, quiet hum and sure enough, proved Steve right. It took no time at all for your eyes to stay closed and for you to succumb to sleep. When Steve noticed, he just smiled, only stopping running his fingers through your hair when he fell asleep himself. Despite laying on the ground through sleeping bags, it was the most comfortable of sleep either of you had ever had.
Summary: Bucky Barnes/Reader, Reader works in a coffee shop and tries to hide her powers
You smile at the man as he comes back to the counter.
“Can I get a black coffee with two sugars?”
“Of course, your name?”
“Uhh, James..” He furrows his brow.
“It’s so I can call it out when it’s ready, helps us keep track when it’s busy..” You smile again and he nods and sits at the usual chair in the corner. You made a point of moving the chair over before he gets there. You don’t tell him. You peek from behind the counter. Sarah smiles at you and bumps your hip as she walks by.
“His coffee is up, go on, you got his name and everything..”
“James.” He stands up and rushes over.
“Yes?” You smile warmly
“Your coffee.” He laughs a little fast and nods, taking it from the counter. You can hear the gentle hum of your powers in the back of your head and you brush your hand against his letting them rush over him. He smiles retreating back to his- the chair. Sarah laughs at you as you spend the rest of the day stealing glances at James. When he leaves as you start to close up he waves goodbye and vanishes into the street.
“So, you know his name, are we going to wear nametags now?”
“Shut up, I was thinking about it but you know how many creeps there are out there.” When you walk into the shop next morning Sarah hands you a new nametag, the shops logo on the side. You smile laughing at her and pin it to your shirt. He comes in, you notice the exhaustion seems less in the way he moves. You pay no mind to the prickle of paranoia that filters through after taking his nightmares. You brush your hand back against his, letting your powers pull more of his nightmares. You smile at the little victories you’ve given him. The dark bags under his eyes lighten, and his voice gets steadier and less coarse as he’s able to sleep without screaming. You brush your hands against him and you can feel the anxiety hit you as you close the shop up. You know you’re in for a rough night but you hope he’ll be sleeping soundly as you wake up screaming for the dead you killed.
He comes in a little later, moving a bit faster, he looks slightly sweaty and you realize he’s in workout clothes. He’s followed by two other men, one with a blinding smile who Sarah smiles at as he saunters over to the counter. You finish washing the used mugs as James walks over followed by the blonde man who was caught holding the door for a few moments.
“What can I get you two?” You cough a little, your voice horse and failing from screaming through the night.
“ Black coffee two sugars, an iced Americano-“
“I’ll have a black coffee as well, not an iced Americano, and one of every sandwich, heated please.”
“Of course.”
“Make it two of all of them please.” James smiles at you and you nod.
“together or separate?”
“Together.” The blonde man smiles handing over a credit card. You swipe it and hand it back.
‘I’ll bring it over alright?” You smile but it falters as you see James moving over to where his chair should be. You rush over pushing the large armchair over and turning it so it faces the rest of the café.
“Sorry! I could have sworn I moved that back.” You laugh a little and smile. You can hear the two men talking quietly as you make your way back smiling apologetically as Sarah reads their order.
“You’re making this.” You nod and move to the back, As you’re cooking the sandwiches you look over and see the cookie dough mix on the shelf, you pull a jar down and add the eggs as you let the oven heat up. You wrap the sandwiches in foil and wrap the cookies in their own foil pack and debate adding a note, Sarah hands you the coffee and you set it down before handing off the plate with all the sandwiches.
“You two have to stop overwhelming the staff, they’re not used to people eating this much, look you even got cookies! You two are going to be the death of me.” The man laughs and Sarah snickers.
“I made the cookies, sir. As an extra.” The man smiles as he bites into one.
‘Damn good cookies..” You smile and turn to go back to the counter.
“Thanks Y/N.” You barely hear James’ voice, you nod and rush back towards the counter. Sarah laughs at your blush before she brings the smiling man a wrap. They leave an hour later, the plates cleaned of every scrap of sandwich and cookies. You clear the plates and cups smiling as you reposition the chair back to where it normally is.
“I still don’t know why you do that. It’s silly, just leave it there..”
“But Jim gets mad if it’s not there..”
“He won't notice.” You close the shop leaving the chair in James’ spot. When you come in the morning Jim is standing beside it huffing.
“Y/N? The chair has been moved. Again.” He huffs, crossing his arms, his face reddening as you stutter out an explanation.
“Sorry Y/N, I forgot to move the chair back didn’t I, I’m real sorry ‘bout that doll.” James offers an apologetic smile. Jim’s face softens and he laughs.
“Sorry about sir, I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” James smiles, smoothing over any lingering anger Jim was going to throw at you. You shakily smile at both of them and return to the counter.
“The usual?”
“Yes, also an Iced Americano, a Black tea, and if it’s not too much trouble could I get a slice of lemon and some jam with it..”
“With the tea? On the side or on it?”
“Ummm..” James turns and you see a stunning redheaded woman walk up.
“Tash, jam on the side?”
“Side..” She smiles.
“Is that your seat?” James nods and smiles slightly. She moves over a chair and comes back to the counter, she hands you a credit card and as you swipe it you catch her asking James something in Russian. You know enough to follow a basic conversation and you realize she’s asking him something about you. He smiles and nods, mumbling something you can’t hear. You smile as you hand them their drinks.
“If it’s not a bother, maybe some of those cookies again.” You smile and nod moving towards the back.
“Y/N!” You wince when Jim shouts across the café.
“Yes sir!” You turn and scramble towards his office offering a sheepish smile towards James and Tash.
“You make sure those two get whatever they want..”
“Of course sir!” He nods and pats your head.
“And keep your powers in check, I swear I can feel your jumpiness, whatever you fixed yesterday don’t do it again you’re wearing yourself out.”
“Of course sir, it won’t happen again.”
James doesn’t show up for almost two weeks and you can tell that you have a crush as soon as his blonde friend walks in and you bit back asking about James.
“Two black coffee’s one with two sugars please.” You nod and turn to fill the to go cups. The man smiles and takes them.
“James asked about the cookies, since he never got them last time he was in..”
“Oh! I can give you the mix if you want, so he can make it at home!” Your eyes light up when he nods. You scribble out the directions and in an impulse you add your number letting him know to call if he has any questions.
“It’s my own recipe so if he has any trouble he can blame me.” You laugh and wave as he leaves. You try not to cling to your phone, but as the café closes for the night and you trudge back to your house you try not to whimper too much as your phone remains empty of any notifications. You sluggishly move up your stairs and all but fall into your tiny apartment’s main hall.
“I’m home Nessa, I have a couple leftover sandwiches if you want.” Nessa appears smiling.
“So James didn’t show up again?”
“How can you tell?”
“You look pitiful, honestly like someone kicked a puppy, l think you should at least try to talk to him next time he comes in..” You nod as Nessa eats the leftover wrap you hand her. You try to relax but the fear bubbling in your chest has you tossing and turning, you hope James isn’t having too many nightmares.
The next morning you drag yourself out of bed and stare in the mirror the bags under your eyes have lightened but you worriedly poke at them. You pull over the sweater hanging in your closet and make your way towards the café.
Sarah’s standing, just opening the door.
“Sorry I’m late I didn’t think the school run would take me as long and-“ You nod pushing her in as both of you scramble through the daily tasks as a few customers start to trickle in. You’re helping the man in line and he stumbles around a list someone has given him repeating and adding in things he seems unsure of, he seems to pause and take notice of the line forming and he side steps.
“I’ll let you guys finish with the rush first.” You shoot him a grateful look and as the rush finally dies down the man looks up from his phone.
“Alright I got a much better list, so, sorry this is going to be a big order… I need five chicken wraps, two chicken and ham toasties, four Cajun chicken and cheese, three salad bowls, and two jars of cookies? Anyway, for the drinks I need three iced Americano’s, two latte’s, one tea with lemon and jam, two double espresso shots, and a black coffee two sugars.” You nod.
“To go right?”
“No we’re eating here..” Tash and the blonde man appear next to him and he laughs.
“You guys made me come in here to order this all why?”
“We had to convince James she wouldn’t hate him” Tash looks up to you.
‘He burnt your cookies, fell asleep with them in the oven..” The blonde man smiles. Your eyes widen.
‘That’s awful! I always hate when I fall asleep like that, always messes me up, he’s okay though?” You laugh a little to cover up the worry about his sleeping habits. You turn when Sarah drops a platter.
“You okay?” You tilt your head when she doesn’t respond. You turn and see Iron Man standing in the door. Suddenly his suit peels back and seems to vanish. The other Avengers soon follow and you peer around them as James sneaks in towards his chair.
“You know the Avengers?” James stares at you.
“Doll, I’m part of the Avengers, I thought you knew? It’s why you’d move the chair and turn the music down right?” You stare back, Blonde man becomes Steve Rogers, Tash, is now the Black widow, and the man who smiles at Sarah is Falcon. You shake your head.
‘What? No! I just did that cause I know what it’s like to be anxious in social situations..”
“Oh.” Natasha laughs and helps you bring the platters of food over. You smile and finish cleaning up, both you and Sarah are about to go into the back when Clint Barton waves you over.
“You two, come sit, tell us about serving this asshole for the past four months..”
“it’s been five actually.” James jabs Clint in the side and Sarah snickers.
‘Aww cute, he was counting, still hasn’t called you though.” You laugh along with them and stand.
‘Anyone want more coffee? I have to call my roommate to tell her I’ll be late..” You pull your phone out and call Nessa as you brew another cup of coffee.
“Hello?”
“Hey Nessa, I’m going to be late, So don’t wait up! Yeah I can get milk and Oh gross! No that’s just, ew. You can do that on your own.”
“What happened?” You set the coffee pot in the middle of the table.
“My roommate wanted me to pick up things for her and her current boyfriend, which is gross.” You wrinkle your nose holding up the pot pouring a fresh cup for everyone. Your had brushes James and you tense as your powers pull the thoughts of sex from your brain. You whip your head up to Sarah and stand up offering the coffee pot up to her as she passes by.
“Sarah I fucked up.”
“How? Did you take too much?” Sarah watches you as you look nervously back to the Avengers who are trying not to be obvious about eavesdropping.
“No I uh, I gave some stuff up and it’s uh, related to Nessa and what she was, uh-“
“Y/N are you serious? What did you take? If you gave that?” You squeeze your eyes shut and curl your fingers against your arm.
“I’m sorry.” Sarah rolls her eyes.
“It’s fine. I’ll make some soup for you then?” You nod ducking your head as she pulls you into a hug before asking you to lock the back up. When you return the Avengers are gone and you ask her but she shakes her head, leading you back up the street to her apartment.
“I called Mark and he and the kids are at his mother’s so you don’t have to worry about waking them up. Now, want to talk about what’s been going on for the past few months?”
“I’ve been taking James’s nightmares. It was an accident at first, our hands brushed and my powers just took it; it was too strong to resist. After that, well, he looked so happy and calm, not having nightmares. I figured what was a few more days of it, if it helped him.”
“That why you were such a mess when he was out for two weeks.” You nod ducking your head before Sarah pushes the bowl closer.
“Eat. When was the last time you had a full meal?”
“Uhh, two days ago when you made me dinner, I have eaten since then! Just not a proper meal.” Sarah nods and watches you eating in silence for a moment.
“So what dream did you give him this time? You said it had something to do with Nessa?”
“She called me talking about her and Peter’s sex life and it got stuck in my head and-“ You cut yourself off as Sarah starts laughing.
“Oh my god you gave him a sex dream. That’s hilarious, sorry I mean, very serious, why is it a problem.”
“It’s not a problem, just awkward.” Sarah rolls her eyes.
“You’re being overdramatic, it won’t change anything.” You nod, finishing your soup and curling on the couch with a blanket.
“Y/N, what did you take from him.”
“I’ll find out in a bit.” You tug a pillow closer and tuck the blanket against your chin. You can hear Sarah moving quietly around her kitchen and settling everything down for the night.
You don’t wake up, you come to your senses suddenly, the cold is biting into you. You’ve had this nightmare before, when he falls from a train. You step forward being moved as a pawn in his place. Instead of stepping to the left you step to the right, pulled by the wrong force and you know this nightmare is not one you’ve had before. You can’t scream when Steve falls. You stare transfixed, wishing that the nightmare would finish. You feel the tugging from the dreams force and you follow it, letting go and letting the dream plummet you down. You catch up to the Captain, the fear evident on his face. You hit the ground and can feel everything splinter, normally this is the point he loses consciousness and you wake screaming and crying. This is not the nightmare you know. You stare unseeing and all-seeing at the same time. You see Steve’s body heaving, the serum trying to heal all his injuries and you can hear the pained groans from him as his bones try to knit themselves together over and over, splinters trying to regrow but stabbing into his muscles ripping tendons that heal over creating a thick rope of scar tissue winding on his arm and down his leg. You try to call out but find yourself screaming as Steve suddenly seems to shrink, reverting to before the serum ran through his veins, his injuries vanish and he crawls over to you, curling against your chest he cries.
Why did you jump, why did you jump. You could have lived, you could have lived.
You wake up screaming, tears soaking your face and you twist out of the blanket thumping against the floor howling in pain. Sarah’s next to you in an instant, her hands too warm and freezing against your back and neck, she tugs your hair slightly and motions to a trashcan as you gag and vomit into it. You tremble, hunched over it whimpering, she places a cool rag against the back of your neck.
“There we go, there we go sweetie, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You climb into her lap like a child and let her mother you.
“He fell, he jumped with him, got hurt, wouldn’t stop healing then he got small again, too small was gonna freeze, he was gonna freeze cause’a me.” You shiver against Sarah’s arms and she tuts softly, rubbing her arm against your back in circles as she hums. You fall asleep before she moves you back to the couch.
You wake up in the morning and don’t even register that Sarah’s given you fresh coffee until half the mug is down your throat and you feel the burning bubbling against it. Sarah sighs and holds out your uniform, which you change into, stumbling down towards the street the shop’s on before she stops you and points to pancakes on the table, you grab two from the stack stuffing them in your mouth as you motion to the door. She sighs rolling her eyes and following you as you both make your way to the café.
You’re exhausted, slumped against the counter you barely move until the figures that entered are in front of you. You struggle to stand swaying as you try to smile before shaking your head and taking in the people who wait.
“Welcome, what can I get you?”
“Black Coffee two sugars, two double espresso shots, and two cups of tea.” You look up to see James smiling at you. You nod wincing as your head swims.
‘You okay doll?”
“Yeah, just nightmares, no big deal” You smile at James as he moves to sit next to Natasha and Steve, Wanda stands next to the table, pulling a chair over.
“You threw up, I’m telling you just go home.” Sarah calls out and you stare shocked at the concern that covers James’s face.
“You’re sick? You sure you should be here? If you’re not feeling well you should go home, I can take you home if you need.” You blink sluggishly.
“I’m okay, it was only a little puke, nothing bad, nothing bad.” You try to smile again but can feel tears prickling.
“I can stop the nightmares for a bit, if you’d like.” You shake your head at Wanda.
“At least let me.” She reaches a hand out and you feel your powers tugging hers to you. She gapes at you and you pull as many of her nightmares as you can manage before she tugs her hand back.
“You poor thing, why is this happening to you?” You sit over in a chair in between her and James.
“It’s not a dream thing, it’s healing.”
“What?”
“I can heal people, it just so happens you guys have more psychological issues that physical right now.”
“So what you’re taking our memories?”
“No I’m taking the trauma, and I’m dealing with it so you don’t have to, when you think back on those memories they won’t be triggers anymore.” You smile at James.
“How long?”
“Since the first time you got coffee here, I didn’t mean to my powers do it on there own and, it’s fine really I can handle it.”
“Wait are you telling me you’ve been taking and having my nightmares for five months?”
“Yeah I’m sorry I should have-“
“You’ve been torturing yourself so I could get a few hours of sleep a night?? You don’t even know me, what was the point of that.”
“You smiled more.”
“What?” James stares at you for a moment.
“You smiled more, it was nice.” Sarah hands you a cup of tea.
“Y/N. Nessa wanted to let you know she’s moving in with Peter.”
“Oh, yeah okay, that’s great. Give me a sec.” you brush by Sarah and clutch your arms as you sink behind the staff door.
“Fuck.” You mumble to yourself. You shake your head clearing your thoughts. You step out from the back offering a wary smile
“Anyways, guess I’ll have to find somewhere else to live. It’ll be fine though.” You smile reassuringly at Sarah
“You can be an Avenger, and live with me.” James nods enthusiastically at you.
“I can’t I don’t-“
“You have powers, we could use a healer on missions, it’d help us out a lot.” Wanda smiles.
“You can’t just offer me a job without any training. I don’t even know how to throw a punch, let alone fight.”
“Come with me to the compound, just for the night?” James smiles at you and you find yourself nodding. Wanda laughs and gestures for everyone to leave.
You’re following them as they make their way through the tower.
“We live at the compound but we do training and host parties here. I thought it best to run it by the team first.” James leads you through and you wave at Clint.
“Coffee girl finally managed to get past the café door, even more impressive she’s in the tower.”
“At least I have a girl.” Clint rolls his eyes.
“I have a wife so I out-rank you.” You snicker as James looks offended.
“Y/N I can’t believe you’d side with him. Betrayed by my own girl.” James throws his hands up laughing.
“Is Tony here? I wanted to ask about her staying at the compound.”
“You don’t need to ask about having girls over.”
“No to live with us.”
“Skipping a few steps then?” Tony peers at you.
“She has powers, and nowhere to live, I guessed she wouldn’t take too kindly to me renting her a place so I figured this was the best option.”
“You wanted to be her sugar daddy?”
“Her what?” He turns to look quizzically at you.
“I’ll explain it later.” Tony smirks at you.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, what are your powers?”
“Here.” You move towards him about to brush your hand against his before Bucky jerks you back.
“I can heal, I was going to take some of your trauma, I absorb it by touching.”
“Oh, is that why Bucky slept so well after his visits to your café?” Tony laughs
“Yeah, I was taking his trauma and dealing with it and-“
“So you make yourself have nightmares? That why you look like someone ran you over?” You nod, yawning.
“Well you should sleep, we’re having dinner at the compound at seven, so you could head over and nap before.” Tony smiles. You lean on Bucky as he lets Steve know.
“Come on doll.” You fall asleep on the ride over and wake as Bucky gently shakes you.
“You want me to call you James or Bucky?”
“Bucky, why’d you call me James all the time anyways, I don’t mind but I’m curious.”
“You told me your name was James in the café, I just stuck with that.” He nods leading you towards a room. He laughs at you.
“What? That’s the nicest looking bed I’ve seen in weeks. I’ve been sleeping on a couch cause my roommate kept bringing her boyfriend back.” Bucky nods.
“Sleep well, I’ll wake you before dinner.” You nod curling under the covers and tugging a pillow over.
It’s a new nightmare this time. You’re standing in front of an empty room. You see Natasha leaning against the door before she rushes over and you smack your hand against her face throwing her back. You stare at the metal fingers as they adjust. You watch as she charges again and you smack her back kicking her as she lies on the ground. You hear a creaking sound. You look around and spot yourself stepping through the door. You tilt your head watching yourself rush over. You lift your hand up, you’re trying to stop your hand as you reach, wrapping the metal hand around her throat and squeezing. You wake up coughing and heaving, whimpering as you curl against the pillows. You hear the door open and look up blindly reaching forward sobbing, and clinging desperately to the figure that now sits on the bed.
“It’s alright, we all have nightmares. Dinner is ready, if you’re hungry. Come on Y/N, food will probably help. I’ll give you a minute to get fixed up.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, come, lets get dinner.” You nod stumbling up and following Clint from the room. He sits you in the armchair facing the kitchen. You cringe back when Natasha walks through.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We’re having pasta, is that alright?” You nod staring as she disappears.
“She’s not upset?”
“We all have nightmares. We under-“
“Hey! No!” You smack your bare hand onto Clint’s face, pulling as much as you can before he throws you back into the chair.
“You need to learn boundaries! You cannot just do that when we mention bad things happening. Do you understand?” You stare up at him as he glares at you.
“Do not do that again! It is not okay! No! No! Bad Y/N.” He scolds you like a dog and you curl hiding your face trying not to laugh.
Scenario Prompts: 'Bandaging the other and then kissing the injury gently.' And 'B comforting A as they wake up from a nightmare.'
Requested by: @spuffyfan394
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader
Plot: After a mission goes awry, the reader and Bucky flee to a safe house for the night. Bucky is filled with regret at how the mission went, which leads to painful nightmares the reader must chase from his mind.
Warnings: Mentions of violence, injuries, blood, death, and nightmares.
**I swear, between the moments of angst this is a really soft whumpy fic!!
You spared a look behind you and felt you gut clench at the sight of Bucky in the distance fighting off multiple people. You wanted to turn back and help, but you had to continue on, you couldn't let their leader escape, and you knew Bucky could handle them.
"Sam where are you?!" You asked desperately.
"On my way!" Sam's voice yelled over your ear piece.
As your target disappeared behind the corner, you pushed yourself to move faster, you couldn't lose him. As you rounded the corner, you saw the man in front of you, but instead of running away, he was now facing you, about twenty-five feet away. Behind him were multiple men, on his face was a wicked smile, and in his arms was a large weapon, ready to fire.
Unable to stop, you quickly threw yourself out of the line of fire, as as the man fired the weapon at you. As you dived through the air, an explosion ripped through the sky. Your body was suddenly surrounded by shrapnel as you were twisted and thrown back. You felt your body flying for what felt like too long, before you slammed through a glass window into a nearby building. Glass shattered around you, as you rolled across the floor. Once you stopped, you lied still in breathless pain as you forced yourself to stay conscious.
Turning over onto your back, you looked up just in time to see the men running away. You planted your hands on the ground, to try and rise to follow them. You winced as glass pierced your skin, and a sharp pain rocketed trough your shoulder. As your body fell limply back to the ground, you heard Bucky's voice growing closer as he called your name.
Bucky had beaten the men attacking him just in time to see the explosion from where you had gone. He saw you fly past in the explosion, and into the adjacent building. His heart stopped and his chest tightened as he ran as fast as he could to you. As he rounded the corner he looked back to see that the men had gone, then, he vaulted through the broken window to find you.
"What was that explosion?!" Sam asked through the coms.
"Y/n's down! Targets are heading towards the dock." Bucky yelled through the coms as he threw himself down beside you, ignoring the pain as glass poked his knees. "Y/n!" He pulled you up and onto his lap and your eyes fluttered open.
You groaned out as you spoke, "Where the hell did he get that?" Bucky shook his head and felt anger rush through him. "Did they get away?"
"Sam's going after them, just stay still." He ran his hand over your head, eyeing the various small cuts on your face. His eyes fell on your hands, which were now bleeding, and he could feel a wet warmth on his leg, where you were resting. He brought his hand underneath your back, and you gasped in pain. Bringing his hand back he saw his fingers covered in blood, and he began to worry. "Come on, we need to get you out of here." He said softly as he began to pick you up, trying to be careful not to hurt you any more.
- - -
"You should be helping Sam." You said as you bounced your leg anxiously, looking around the safe house as Bucky placed bandages across your shoulder.
"He can handle it. All he's doing is tracking the men down to find out what their next move is." He spoke casually as he grabbed softly brushed his hand over the bandages to smooth them out. "Right now, all I care about is you." He finished softly, as he gently pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.
You closed your eyes briefly as he did so, enjoying the intimate touch. After he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, Bucky then grabbed the edges of your stool, and spun you around so you were facing him. Taking your now bandaged hands in his, he brought them up, and pressed a few kisses to the back of each of them.
You smiled softly at him as he did so, and as he looked back up at you with a soft smile, he leaned in and kissed you on the lips, which you returned. Resting his head against your forehead he let out a sigh. "I know in our line of work this happens more often than not, but God I hate it."
Smiling softly, with a hint of dejection, you nodded your head slightly. "Me too. But we're always okay, right?"
He returned the soft smile and nodded. "Luckily. And it better stay that way." He said with a soft hint of a joke.
"As long as we're together, and as long as I'm with you."
"I think you get hurt more often now that your with me." Bucky admitted, his voice soft, and filled with guilt.
You shook your head, and brought your hands to each side of his face. "No, that's not true. It just seems like that because we're together. We notice it more now. I'm safe with you Bucky. And I always will be, I know it."
Bucky met your eyes, and felt his chest and heart swell with love and gratefulness. Leaning in, he kissed you briefly before smiling at you. "I'll always try my best to protect you. I promise."
You smiled, "I know."
- - -
That night, you went to bed early, both exhausted from the day's events. You had trouble falling asleep as your body ached lightly no matter how you lied still. You were able to finally fall into a light sleep, as Bucky beside you, fell into a more restless one.
He was running down the dark road, the buildings on each side of him seemed to be reflecting various shadows that weren't really there. He could hear you in the distance, he wasn't sure what you were yelling, but you sounded afraid. He needed to get to you.
"Sam! Where are you! Y/n needs us!" He yelled out, but his voice came out as a whisper, no matter how loud he thought he was yelling.
He could see Sam in the sky, too far away to help. Bucky felt frustrated and scared as he rounded corner after corner, and could only ever hear you yelling out.
Suddenly, he heard you scream, and the road in front of him exploded. The sky was full of fire and shrapnel. He stumbled and fell to his knees. As he looked up, he saw you, lying on the ground, limp, your head arched back, eyes open, but lifeless, as they stared into his own eyes.
He let out a guttural yell as a figure stomped forward from the smoky distance. His eyes locked on the figure, and he felt his heart stop. It was him. No, not him. It was the Winter Soldier. Eyes emotionless, as he stopped beside your lifeless body. Looking up, he locked eyes with himself. The Winter Solider raised his gun at Bucky, and spoke in a distorted voice, holding a hint of his own familiar voice, "You failed." Before firing the gun.
Bucky jolted awake with a gasp, his body sweating and heart pounding, tears were verging on the edge of his eyes as he looked around the room in unfamiliarity. The moonlight shown in enough to light various corners. It took him a few moments before he began to recognize it.
You woke suddenly as Bucky did, turning over in confusion, you saw him sitting up, chest heaving as he breathed harshly, fear was evident on his face. "Bucky?" You spoke softly, as you turned, not wanting to startle him.
He turned and looked at you, and you saw his face change from distress to realization and relief as he let out a shuddered breath. "I killed you." He muttered out, his voice soft, broken.
You felt your stomach twist as you felt your heart break. "No, Bucky." You sat up and turned towards him, bringing your hand to his face. "It was just a nightmare." You pulled him towards you, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly as he took a deep breath, soaking in your presence.
Rubbing your hand up and down his back, you brought the other up and through his hair. You felt his body begin to relax a bit as you pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "It's been a while since you had a nightmare." You commented softly, and you felt him nod his head. "But it is just a nightmare. Not a memory, not something that actually happened. And it wont happen Bucky, you know it wont."
Bucky clenched his eyes tightly shut as he listened to your voice. He knew you were right, he would never, could never. The Winter Soldier was gone, and he would never come back.
"I'll always be right here." You said softly. "I'm safe with you Bucky, remember?"
Bucky let out a shaky breath as he pulled away from you. He met your eyes and you gave him a soft smile as you brought your hand to his face. He placed his hand on yours and pressed his face into your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. "I'm safe with you too." He whispered, and your smile grew a bit.
"Always." You whispered in response and he smiled.
His heart had calmed to a steady beat, as you both lied back down. You faced each other, you had one of your hands placed on his chest, feeling his hear beat.
He held your other hand and watched you closely. "I love you Y/n." He muttered as you locked your eyes with him.
Inching closer, you kissed him softly, "I love you too."
Bucky pulled you closer to him, as you wrapped your arms around each other, your head resting against his chest. Bucky closed his eyes, part of him was afraid he would only have another nightmare. But as he focused on your presence in his arms as he fell asleep, the bad memories of his nightmare faded from his mind, as they were replaced with your presence and pleasant dreams.
xx End xx
Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed! <3 (especially since posts are having a hard time showing up in tags, it would be VERY appreciated!)
steve rogers + "hand kisses" (from this prompt list)
Missions were always a little tiring, but this one had been especially so. And even though you'd won, there was an air of defeat across the Quintjet - everyone was keeping to themselves, barely able to stay awake for the journey home. Sam had completely exiled himself to the cock-pit with a cup of coffee and Bucky was snoring loudly across a row of seats. You normally hated the sound of his ghastly roars but right now, you were thankful that there was some kind of noise to fill the tense air. It might have swallowed you whole otherwise.
You were sat in the furthest chair to the back, eyes closed and head resting against the cold metal wall of the jet. There was a slight creek, and your seat dip as somebody took the one beside you - a warm hand on your thigh didn't leave many guesses at to who it was.
"Hey, honey," a warm voice pulled you back to reality. Squeezing an eye open, you rolled your head in Steve's direction, letting it fall on his shoulder.
"Hey," you quietly greeted him.
"Not doing so good, huh?" he asked.
"Barely," you murmured. "I'm so fucking tired."
"I know," he gave you a sympathetic sigh, pressing a kiss to your temple. "We have a few days off now, though."
"A few days," you huffed, stressing the last word. Days. You'd been doing this for years, and now you were lucky if you went a week without an incident. A week without being called to Russia to investigate a new HYDRA base, or to London to dredge through the rat-filled tunnels of the tube in search of a home-made nuclear weapon.
"We can do something nice - we could go to Coney Island, or take a road trip, or-" he paused when he saw how exhausted you were. "Or we could just stay home. Sleep in and maybe finally fix that broken kitchen cabinet?"
You gave him a smile. "I'd love that."
Steve took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. His large thumb danced over the back of your palm for a second, and he could barely hide his pained expression when he felt how callous and sore they were. Rather than saying anything, he brought your hands up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to them. (He also made a mental note to find the most expensive hand-cream at Bath & Body Works and add it to your Christmas list).
"Get some sleep," he quietly said. "I'll wake you up when when we're home."
