SUMMARY: A peaceful night alone is just a dream in a world with Captain America. And just when you thought you might have a peaceful night, a knock on the door wakes you from that dream. What you weren’t expecting to find was a bloodied and beaten Steve Rogers.
(Y/n) sits on her couch, reading a book, as someone knocks on her door. She sighs and looks at the clock that reads 2:35 am. Who would be knocking on her door at this time, and why?
She sets her book down and runs her hand through her hair. She opens the door and raises her eyebrows at the sight. It's Steve, his hands pressed to his side. Blood leaks through his fingers and his face is pale, blood all over his suit.
"Shit, Steve!" she hisses, pulling him in and shutting the door. (Y/n) lies a blanket on the couch and he collapses, obviously exhausted. (Y/n) drops to her knees, pulling his hands from the wound as he leans his head back.
He lets his hands drop to his side. It's a large gash, about five inches long just above his hip on his left side. "How did this happen?" she asks, looking up at him.
"Mission gone wrong," he mutters lowly, his face twisting in pain. (Y/n) stands and runs to the bathroom, where a full sized medical kit sits under the counter. She pulls out the small duffle bag and runs back to Steve.
She drops the bag and kneels again, pulling out some scissors. "You have more than one suit, right?" she asks, showing him the scissors. He shakes his head and she frowns, putting the scissors down. "I need to have a talk with Fury about that," she mumbles, sitting Steve up.
He groans in pain and she shoots him a sorry look. She unzips the top of the suit, helping Steve lead his arms out. She peels the upper half of the suit off of him, letting it drape over his lap and leaving him shirtless.
She grabs a rag and wipes up the blood the best she can, tossing it on the coffee table. Steve's eyes start to flutter back and she places a strong hand on his chest, making his eyes open again. "Stay awake, Cap," she says sternly.
"Yes, ma'am," he replies, making her smile a bit. He looks at her as she bends down, getting out a bottle of alcohol and another rag. She pours the rubbing alcohol on the rag and Steve takes a deep breath as she places the rag on the open wound. He clenches his jaw, the pain at a minimum compared to the actual pain of the wound.
"I'm gonna have to stitch this up," (y/n) says and he nods, his eyes locked on hers. She smiles up at him sadly and he leans his head back again, staring at the ceiling.
(Y/n) gets out a clean needle and the medical thread, lacing it through the eye. She carefully pinches the edges of the wound and Steve grits his teeth as she starts to stitch it up. It doesn't take too long, and with just ten stitches, the wound is closed.
(Y/n) sets the needle on the table and gets a rag, cleaning up any extra blood on his side. She stands and wipes her hands, walking to the kitchen. She gets a towel and puts some water on it, ringing it out and walking back to Steve.
She sits next to him and places the towel on his forehead, waking him up a little. She gets back to the floor and grabs a gauze pad and some medical tape, bandaging up his side. She packs up the bag and sets it under the coffee table, walking back to the kitchen. She gets a cup of water and a bottle of ibuprofen, handing Steve the glass. She gets out four pills and he takes it, handing her the water.
"Now, soldier, wanna tell me what really happened?" she asks as she sets the glass down, leaning back next to Steve.
"Just a mission gone wrong," he tells her again. She purses her lips, studying his face. She nods and gets up, walking to her closet. At the top is a box of her ex's old clothes that he never picked up. She pulls the box down and gets a shirt and some basketball shorts, praying that they'll fit Steve and his large muscles.
"Steve, I hope these will fit you," she says as she walks back into the living room. He looks up and takes the shirt. It seems like it will fit, so he nods. (Y/n) helps him put his shirt on, careful not to rip open the stitches. She then stands him up, letting him take off his suit and put on the shorts, which happens to fit too.
"I can't thank you enough," he says as he sits back down. (Y/n) smiles at him and nods once.
"Wasn't a problem," she tells him. By now, it's just after three in the morning, making her sigh. "The sun’s gonna rise in a few hours, so I suggest you stay here and get some rest. I'll take the couch-" Steve cuts her off.
"No, I'll take the couch," he says, making her cross her arms.
"I'm not the one that just got the living shit beat out of me," she argues.
"But you are the one that just saved me," he fights back. She frowns and nods, too tired to argue any more. She grabs a pillow from the armchair and sets it down, letting Steve lie down. She grabs the blanket from under the coffee table and covers him up, moving his bloody suit to the kitchen table.
She turns the light off and locks the front door back up, making sure no one can come in. She walks back to Steve and places a soft kiss on his forehead before she walks away to her room. And even in the darkness, Steve is sure she could see his small smile.
