Oh yes. I like Steve's stealth suit from Winter Soldier too 👀😏
Stealth
Summary: You're woken up by an intruder.
Warnings: implied intentions and darkness.
Notes - If you don't mind, please leave some thoughts. I know it's a random drabble but it was fun! Thanks for reading.
You’re not quite sure what woke you. A clang echoes behind your ears as you sit up, a cool breeze flowing in through the open window. You fall flat on your back and rub your eyes, yawning at the ceiling. Your lashes are heavy, clinging together as the darkness coaxes you back down.
You roll onto your side, another clamour jolting you up. Your legs swing over the edge of the bed in a moment and you’re on your feet, panic deep in your chest.
You grab the small wooden club in your nightstand and inch towards the hallway. There’s friction, the rattle of the sliding door as you peek across the front room.
A silhouette blackens the pane of glass against the deep blue of the night sky. The loud snap assures you of the broken latch and you pull back, clutching the club tight as you hold your breath.
The door slides open and you take a slow step back, thinking of the cell phone charging beside your bed.
A step inside and long exhale permeate the static silence. “I hear your heartbeat, I know you’re awake.”
You grip the club tighter and swallow. You know that voice, you think. You cautiously peek around the corner. The light switch flicks and the room glows in the artificial light of the bulb above, the ceiling fan coming to life.
Steve Rogers looses the strap of his cowl and pulls it off in a single motion, his hair jutting out at all angles. Tiny cuts mark his jaw and along the top of his neck, his lips are bloody and his nose is slightly crooked. He’s been through it. You can tell by the black and red stains across his dark blue uniform.
“Captain?” You blink. You have to be dreaming.
“Sure,” he answers as he drops the cowl heavily on the ledge beneath the window. “Steve’s fine.”
He guides his hand with his other and places it flat on the ledge. He feels along his arm and jerks his weight down, a loud crack and a growl that draws out into a sigh. He turns to face you, bending his arm tenderly.
“You can put that down, I’m really not up to another fight,” he furls and unfurls his fingers, rolling his neck.
“Wha–” you’re confused. Why is Captain America breaking into your place? How did he get on your balcony?
“You got anything to drink?” He unbuckles the harness across his chest as he disappears around the wall.
You let the club dangle in your grasp and warily near to watch him unstrap himself and lay the leather across the small round table.
“Water?” You offer, put off by his presumption.
“Thanks,” he accepts and pulls out a chair, sitting heavily with a groan.
You blink and watch him dumbly as he unstraps his boots. The sweat drips down his cheek and wets the blood crusted along his jaw.
You don’t know what to do so you go to the kitchen and set the club on the counter. You fill a glass from the fridge filter. You bring it to him hesitantly, setting his beside his gloves crumpled with his harness.
“Are you…” you back away, “okay?”
“Thirsty,” he gives the blunt answer, avoidant and stunted. He’s not the golden avenger you see on the news.
“Oh,” you rub your elbow as he drains the glass easily, gulping loudly before slamming down the glass. He smooths his blonde hair as he leans back in the chair, looking at you with his brilliant baby blues, “so, uh, I hate to be rude but how did you, erm, get here?”
He thinks, chewing his lip as he rubs away the dried blood at the corner of his mouth. His eyes descend and you look down, crossing your arms to hide the sheer fabric of your sleep shirt. He has no shame as his gaze stays aimed at your chest, then lower. As if he’s taking measure of you.
He tilts his head and lifts his arm, bent as he reaches beneath and pulls sharply on a zipper. His combat suit slackens across his broad chest and he brings his hands behind his neck, feeling around before it loosens on his shoulders. You watch, stunned.
“Mind if I use your shower? I’m covered in… filth,” he sucks his teeth as a smirk plays on his lips.
“Well, I–” your confusion blooms to unease, “I guess. But should you–”
“Great,” he stands and you instinctively take a step back. He’s somehow bigger than before.
He pulls on the back of his suit and slips the top off, letting it hang over his belt as he bares his sweat-soaked undershirt. He peels that off just as quickly, his muscles glistening as he flexes and crumples the cotton, tossing it over his harness.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he nears and you cower, hitting the door frame with your shoulder as you retreat. You stop as he comes within inches, looming over you, “so… point me towards the shower.”
You jab your thumb behind you, “down the hall to right,” you eke out as he smirks completely, “there are fresh towels in the closet next to it.”
He nods but doesn’t move. He stares down at you, his hand resting on his belt as his chest rises and falls. Silence, thick and terrifying. His thoughts twinkle in his eyes but you can’t read them. He is as mysterious as his abrupt arrival.
“Good girl,” he praises and squeezes your arm, causing you to wince in surprise, “I’ll be quick.”
He lets you go and passes closes, sending a shiver down your spine as you stand paralysed. You look at the table where he’s left a mess, then the sliding door, the air drifting in briskly. You go to peer out onto the balcony, the city stories below.
You slowly push the door shut but the handle hangs fractured from the metal frame. You tug but can’t free it from the remnants of the screws barely keeping it in place. Your weakness makes his strength even more obvious.
The sudden spray of the shower jars you and you look over your shoulder. The light of the bathroom streams to the end of the hall and the warmth of the building steam creeps through the air. The door’s open. Once more, he’s made himself at home.
Steve Rogers may be a hero, but he’s an intruder nonetheless.
