Errare Humanum Est - Pt.16
Down the Memory Lane
Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?) Word count: 3880
Summary: You don’t remember your soulmate and all you knew his now is his name, his looks and that you have died on him... but perhaps you could at least learn the sweet parts of your story too?
Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing, light angst and fluff, oh, and Dean’s human skills in overdrive for a bit ;)
Story masterlist
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The ten minutes it took Steve to return from the communal kitchen was enough of a breather, allowing you to put yourself together at least a bit. A bit. You spent most of the given time staring blindly ahead with your brain in overdrive, alternating it with the urge to get up from your ass to inspect the room closer.
Steve had your favourite tea stocked; did he have a picture of you somewhere? Was there anything that would clue you what he enjoyed doing when he wasn’t working? What did he like to wear? If you opened the rather spacious closet, would you find a pile of white tank tops and sweats like the ones he was wearing now or would there be a variety of shirts – blue ones, preferably, ones that would bring out his eyes? Was he a tea drinker like you (apparently)? Was he a health freak or that kind of a person who could eat anything and still stay fit due to lucking out and probably working out like a half of a day?
What was the notebook placed on one of his nightstands with a pencil on it? Was it a diary? A place to write down random thoughts? Things he remembered to do right before falling asleep, writing them down rather than leaving the bed to complete the task instantly? Or did he like drawing? Writing stories? Poetry?
So, so many questions… the anxiety from meeting him was still more than present, but now the curiosity was gently nudging it away. You felt calmer. The minutes were enough for settling your frantic thoughts.
That was what you kept telling yourself until Steve showed up with two mugs that smelled like heaven and… a plate of cookies.
They looked like sugar cookies (how did you know sugar cookies again?) and your mouth instantly started watering. You were very quickly falling for this man. It probably helped he knew how to make you fall for him, because he knew what you liked better than yourself, but damn.
You watched him put the items on the table, waiting for him to sit. He seemed more at ease too, as if the short time apart helped him collect himself, though his eyes were red-rimmed as if he had a quick cry and a freak-out; to which you could easily relate.
Nevertheless, his whole body appeared more relaxed, the tension in his shoulders dissolving. His features were soft, less worries clouding his expression. He even gave you a brief smile, gesturing towards the coffee table.
“Steve, how dare you?” you quipped in return, making him freeze.
“What did I do?” he asked, sounding wounded and alarmed.
“Cookies. How dare you to serve cookies with what apparently is my favourite tea. What is it, by the way? It smells amazing.”
His smile shone brighter when he realized you were only being playful. Why were you being playful again? Where did it come from?
“Black tea. Flavoured sweet cherry. And I thought… uhm, I saw the cookies in the kitchen and thought you might like some,” he revealed, the subtle blush rushing back to his cheeks, much to your delight. The tips of his ears turned pink too. It was adorable.
While you believed there was more behind his statement, you didn’t call him out on it. Yet.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
You took one of the mugs to your hands, gently blowing the tea, swirling the aroma. Yeah, you could see this thing being your favourite beverage. When you sipped it carefully, you were sure.
Glancing at Steve, you saw him watching you, clearly content with your reaction. You smiled at him over the edge of the mug before setting it down again.
“So… what was the first thing I told you?”
“…that there must be a mistake,” he admitted slowly, a hint amusement soaking through his voice.
You, on the other hand, were horrified.
“I did what?! Oh my god, why would I do that?”
Steve’s amusement only seemed to grow, a bashful smile curling up his lips, an eyebrow slowly rising.
“I told you I really was 95. If you want to get into conversation about which of us should reconsider thinking before speaking, you might need a better argument here.”
That… yeah, okay, you had to give him that. But still.
‘There must be a mistake’ and ‘I’m sorry’? Wow, you rocked this whole talking to your soulmate for the first time thing, didn’t you?
“…okay. That’s fair. But that must have been terrible for you to think that… I dunno. Maybe thinking that I would consider meeting you a mistake, right?”
Steve shrugged and delicately –yes, delicately, despite his huge hands – pulled at the straps of his top, revealing the words for you to see.
Oh, great, the first time when you met him, there was even an ‘Oh no’ involved.
Upon seeing the lines of ink, your heart tried to beat its way of your chest. You convinced yourself it was the words and the words only. It had nothing to do with the fact you peaked a patch of skin you hadn’t before. It wasn’t that you could see his muscles shift. Nope.
Your mouth also didn’t feel like watering; that would be embarrassing. And inappropriate.
You really hoped Steve would think that the heat in your cheeks was caused by seeing an evidence of your perfect human skills showing when meeting him for the first and the second time (for the first time but the second time?).
You cleared your throat awkwardly and lowered your gaze.
“Uh-uh. You told me you were hoping to meet me at very late age, because otherwise would be weird. Not ideal either,” he remarked and once again, he was right of course. After all, you remembered the confusion it caused when you had been trying to figure out what it meant. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. Both yours and my words actually have perfect explanation.”
You hummed, encouraging him to continue, taking a cookie.
Which was a mistake. Like, a real fucking mistake.
Because they weren’t sugar cookies. They were peanut butter, you knew that much even though not being sure how.
And you very quickly understood that you loved peanut butter cookies. You almost choked on the heaven that exploded in your mouth.
Steve raised a questioning eyebrow, but the way he bit his cheek gave him away. He knew exactly what he was doing.
You pointed an accusing finger on him, earning a sheepish chuckle and a confession. “I was hopeful.”
“Uh-um. Good call. I honestly know like five people by their name so far, but you are quickly becoming my favourite,” you joked, turning horrified a second later.
How did you make fun of your amnesia?
Steve stiffened too, but he was fast to recover. He breathed in shakily, catching your gaze, his suddenly serious eyes boring into yours.
“Look, I know… this must be really hard for you, but… if you let me, if you let me,” he emphasized, the blue with just a drop of green of his eyes calming and sincere, “I’ll help you. We contact your family, your friends, we tell you everything we know. We help you to explore what you like and what you don’t and… and if it’s different from what you liked before, that’s fine. These are… stupid cookies, but they made me think. You just met me, I’m aware, but I want to be there for you. If you let me, I will.”
You watched him breathless, absolutely taken aback by the honest aura around him. He meant every word. You barely registered that he took your hands into his again, too busy processing what he was saying, moved to tears. How much kindness and strength this man carried? How was he even real?
“Someone… something up there might be offering me a chance to fix what I messed up so badly, but it’s not guilt why I’d wish to be with you, I promise. I like you. You’ve just met me, but I already know you’re amazing. If there is a chance that maybe… maybe you could like me too, I’ll do everything to prove to you that I could be worthy of carrying the soulmark linking me to-- oh god, please don’t cry.”
You blinked, realizing that silent tears indeed started rolling down your cheeks. You stopped thinking.
You freed your hands of his hold, catching a glimpse of panic in his expression at that and then you couldn’t see his face, because you attacked him, throwing your arms around his neck, making him sway hazardously. You had a hunch that he wouldn’t have even flinched in any other case, the solid wall of muscle he was, but you took him by surprise.
The moment he steadied you both, his shaking hand went to rest flat on your lower back, his other arm curling around you in what could only feel like protectiveness. He held you a bit tighter than was decent, a barely contained tremble in his embrace. It might have even been a little painful, being squished like that, but you weren’t about to complain.
“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered softly, lowering his head to nuzzle in your hair slowly, as if he was afraid you’d withdraw with that action.
Not fucking happening.
This felt familiar.
It felt like scratching an itch you weren’t quite aware of having ever since you had woken up from the dream called Death.
It felt right.
Which made you cry harder, ironically enough. You were a mess of a woman, happy tears mixing with those of regret and shame, but Steve still held you, steadily now, his doll and sweetheart, and you felt warm and comfy and safe, pleasant sensation curling around your heart like a fluffy blanket.
“You’re already doing it,” you murmured into the fabric of his top, already damp with your tears.
“What was that?”
Why did he sound apologetic for such petty thing like not catching what you were trying to mumble, when he was being the rock to your emotional raging sea?
You cleared your throat, this time taking care to articulate like an actual human being. “You’re already doing it, Steve. You’re so nice to me, so considerate and I’m such a mess. Keep this up and I’m not gonna think but know I don’t deser-“
He squeezed you tighter in what felt like a warning and you realized that once more, you were being ridiculous. This wasn’t a competition. And if you were self-conscious about being Steve’s soulmate, worrying you might not be enough with what a mess you were, well, he didn’t need to know. God knew he probably felt the same, his past choices haunting him.
“Just… thank you, Steve. I couldn’t wish for a more amazing soulmate,” you said honestly and when he pulled you closer after that statement despite you not thinking it was possible, you sensed his gratitude.
You stayed in his comfortable embrace for a while, just breathing in, wrapped in a somehow soothing scent.
A giggle escaped you when you realized what exactly Steve must smell.
“What?” he muttered lazily, clearly enjoying the proximity as much as you were – hell, probably more, because this could be what he was used to.
“Just wondering what it’s like to be hugging a girl who smells like men’s shampoo.”
His body shook with hushed laughter in response and he eased his embrace, retreating enough to look at your still damp face. He dared to fix your hair a bit with his gentle fingers, smiling sadly.
“It’s about as surreal as seeing you in plaid,” he remarked, sparkles in his eyes, and you had to admit that yes, your choice of clothing didn’t quite suit you. This couldn’t be your usual wardrobe. “But if this is gonna be the new you, I’ll take it. I meant what I said. It really doesn’t matter what you wear or smell like, though maybe next time I’ll just lend you my things instead. I like it. I like you.”
No. Don’t. It would be really awkward to start crying again. Stop that. Nope- don’t you dare…. You closed your eyes and breathed through the burning sensation in your eyes and rather focused on the pleasant warmth pooling in your chest.
“Steve, stop turning me into a puddle of jello. You’re laying it on a bit thick here,” you whispered, mentally begging him not to stop.
He was so sweet.
And apparently was a little shit too, because the corners of his lips twitched.
“Sorry. Can’t seem to help it.”
You couldn’t but roll your eyes at the cheekiness somehow tangled in flirtation and absolute seriousness.
“It’s… not bad,” you assured him, feeling a bit self-conscious under his intent gaze. “I guess I’m just apologizing in advance if I’m not… responding the way you would wish or you’re used to. I know you said you’d take what you can get, but still—“ Upon seeing the silent warning in his eyes, you pressed your lips together to contain the babble threatening to spill out again. “Okay, shutting up now. Tell me about how exactly we met.”
“Uh-um.”
“Can we stay like this though? Please?”
You looked up at him, hopeful, your heart skipping a pleased beat as he allowed you to nestle into a less neck-breaking position, letting you to lean onto his shoulder as his lips slowly curled up in a spine-melting smile. He made space for you by moving his arm on the backrest, allowing you to rest rather against his chest than shoulder.
Yep, this was it. This was your new favourite place… your only favourite place? Never mind.
“Only if you have another cookie and finish your tea,” he teased, his fingers daring to tickle your arm lightly.
“Hard bargain, Captain,” you chuckled, but obediently reached for not one, but two cookies, offering the other to him.
He accepted it with a smile. “Deal with it.”
“Oh, gladly. Now spill…”
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Steve talked for a long time, smoothly moving to different stories of you two after the meet-cute; and there was no mistaking it, it had been a meet-cute, sweet and a little embarrassing.
His narrative was surprisingly detailed – he remembered what the weather was like, what you were wearing, little things about Ryan, who was apparently your best friend. It should sadden you, all the things you forgot, but with the way he was talking it was as if you were there.
Simultaneously, the sharpness of his memories broke your heart – it only showed just how important those moments were to him. And you knew nothing of them.
Despite being intrigued by the stories and curious about what Steve had to say, you soon found yourself dozing off. You blamed the strange familiarity, Steve’s soothing timbre and the gentle warm embrace that instinctively made you feel safe and at home. You didn’t think he realized he started rubbing your arm in tender periodic motions, slipping into what he actually knew – unlike you – way too easily.
“Steve, should I send the Winchesters who brought her here to a hotel for the day?” a low voice asked, sounding from too much of a distance for you to bother opening your eyes.
“Unless Tony lets them stay. Tell them we’ll pay all of their expenses and not to worry about her. I promise to take care of her and not to let her out of my sight,” an equally hushed voice replied.
“As you wish.”
Your body felt too heavy, yet like belonging to someone else, your mind floating above it. You couldn’t move. You felt the change as you were being moved, warmth of another body replaced by soft cushions and a thick blanket smelling of comfort and home was tucked around you. A soft brush against your forehead and a light weight over the comforter in one particular spot on your arm.
“They don’t seem assured, Steve. They say they’ll wait for you so you could talk.”
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know, Jarvis. I’ll see them in a minute.”
You were far too gone into the dreamland to know just how long Steve sat beside you on the mattress, his hand on you to make sure you were truly here in his bed, no matter how little you remembered, silent tears of happiness and a pained smile never leaving his face.
You were only aware of your dreams being sweet, tasting of peanut butter and cherry flavoured black tea.
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Steve was a bundle of nerves and heavy emotions by the time he finally forced himself to leave her bedside. It was one of the hardest things he ever had to do – both leaving her and spending the better part of the afternoon and evening with her.
He was… less cautious than he should have been from the very moment she walked into his room with Natasha at her heels, he was aware of that, but just seeing a person that looked exactly like her to very last freckle on the side of her neck was like a punch to his solar plexus; seeing her walking, talking and breathing was making his chest ache and as much as he wanted to believe from the start, he forced himself to be just a tiny bit cautious.
It all went out of the window the moment she said the words written on his collarbone. She was alive. His beautiful, sweet soulmate was alive and well, and nearly perfect.
Steve knew it was profane and that he should be grateful for such miracle; he was, God, how grateful he was and he was willing to do everything if it only meant she would stay, but meeting with her gaze, still admiring and curious, but not adoring as it used to be, not so full of tender love, because she had no real memory of him, broke his heart to tiniest pieces, shattered it just like he did to the mirror when finding his new words.
She didn’t remember him. He was her soulmate to her still – but a stranger. When she threw herself around his neck eventually, the sensation was as bitter as sweet. Steve belonged to her – he was so entirely hers with every bit of his very being – but she wasn’t his.
It made him swallow thickly as he leaned onto the wall by the door to his room, unable to summon the strength to deal with the men who had brought her back to him.
He was honestly grateful – beyond words, actually – and his actions towards her were genuine, every word true, every single of his smiles, her presence truly making him happy, but by God, there was a lot of pain he had to swallow whenever she asked him something about them and he was confronted with her amnesia once more.
Confronted with him being nothing to her.
Steve didn’t know how long it took him to actually emerge from his position, his eyes burning with fresh tears, but when he entered the common room and a snarky male voice welcomed him, he knew it was longer than it should have.
“Well, look who it is. The great man himself,” the shorter man of whom Steve assumed was Dean exclaimed and it caused both the other hunter – Sam, Steve recalled – and Bruce, who kept the brothers company, massage the bridge of their nose tiredly.
Steve sighed and nodded politely as the brothers stood up from the couch. Bruce had clearly dined them with a take-out judging by the boxes on the table, which Steve was grateful for. He mentally noted to thank his friend later.
“Dean Winchester, I presume,” he croaked, wincing and clearing his throat at the pathetic sound it released.
The sandy-haired man quirked up. “I see my reputation precedes me. Good. Because, you see, I’m a big fan. Really. You’re doing an A+ plus work, most of the time. But something happens to Nat--- ugh, you know who I mean – on your watch again, I’ll find you, skin you and make sure your soul never finds rest.”
“Dean…”
Steve only nodded at the threat, ignoring the scolding look the taller hunter gave his brother.
“What he meant to say was: nice to meet you, I hope it went well. She… uhm, she is your soulmate, right? You exchanged the right words?” Sam asked kindly, his eyes compassionate and inviting.
Steve smiled tightly, ignoring the knot in his stomach and deliberately passed on the unspoken question if it did go well. He assumed it had, but… well.
“Yes,” he whispered softly, offering the man a hand to shake, which was instantly accepted. “We did. Thank you for bringing her here. Keeping her safe. Taking care of her. I already asked Jarvis – we’ll make sure to pay any expanses-“
“Alright, stop with the speech, Captain. We did what he had to – what we wanted to. She’s a good kid. She deserves the best, though she wasn’t always willing to accept that as a fact. If you want to help guys with little money, that would be nice. But we’re not bounty hunters or some shit. You’re not paying us for her,” Dean stated, sending a white lightning of rage though Steve’s body at his implication.
She was not a merchandise to order and have delivered. She was a human being. Steve was very much aware of that.
He took a deep breath to tell the man what an inappropriate comment he had made. “Mr. Winchester-“
“Oh god, don’t ever call me that again. And relax. Please. I’m not totally serious. Calm your tits.”
“Captain Rogers, I apologize for my Neanderthal of a brother. He grew rather protective of your soulmate as did I. I assume she’s asleep-“ Sam interjected again with his diplomatic talk and Steve forced the indignation aside, trying to remember he was beyond grateful. He only nodded once more. “Good. We thought to stay in town in case she needed anything. We left a small bag for her, but she doesn’t have much, she’s modest. Had a little trouble eating, worrying about spending our money. Please, make sure she eats.”
A sharp pang hit Steve’s chest when hearing another implication of her doubting her worth. He had a lot of work to do. He was going to spoil her. So much. As much as she let him and just a tiny bit more. She always seemed to have a weak spot in the form of his pleading eyes, she was a pleaser and Steve would be very much pleased to give her everything. All of his things, all of him.
“Thank you for telling me. I’ll look out for that. Hopefully, she’ll let me.”
“Good. You do that. She just needs a little push sometimes,” the older brother smirked and finally shook Steve’s hand too, possibly going for tighter grip than necessary. Good tactics that didn’t quite work on a supersoldier, but Steve met his gaze to hint him he received his message again clearly.
Hurt her and you’re a dead man.
Steve felt the same about everyone.
“Now, she has our number and we should probably hit the hay. Before we leave though…” Dean hesitated and the sudden lack of snark surprised even Bruce, who released his head from his hands as he had rested his elbows on his knees, sitting on the couch, embarrassed for their guests; he looked up curiously as Dean continued.
“Can I have an autograph? I really am a huge fan…. And I’d love to touch the shield.”
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Part 17
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Thank you for reading, lovlies, and if you happen to leave ♥ or/and comments, reblog... thank you for that too :-*
