Chapter Text
steve rogers is not a vodka guy, but today he is. it’s too sharp, and it burns his throat, but the pain is what he needs right now. three shots. four. five.
if i had just been a little stronger, a little faster, i could have saved him. he could be alive and i wouldn’t be here but he’s dead and that’s on me.
six.
he hears footsteps, so he yawns and wipes his eyes to pretend he’s not crying. peggy sits down daintily next to him. “did you know i can’t get drunk?” steve laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
“your metabolism is five times faster than the healthiest person on earth. so yes, i might have known that could be a side effect.” peggy smiles at him with sad eyes. she keeps talking, but steve stops listening. you act like you’re some big hero, but you can’t even save your best friend.
seven.
do i deserve this suit? this shield? this respect?
eight.
“i’m going after schmidt,” he says, pointedly not looking at her.
“you won’t be alone,” she responds, with that same sad smile again, and walks away.
steve hates when people pity him.
nine.
i could have saved you, buck, i’m so sorry.
ten.
the vodka isn’t doing anything to him, it just tastes bad, but steve feels like he deserves it. i hope i see you again, and i’ll be damned if i don’t take out schmidt and all his goons before that. i miss you already, man.