Chapter Text
Steve woke with a jolt. It was the third time in two weeks that he’d done so. A third dream about her.
He rubbed his eyes as they fluttered open. Staring at the empty space next to him, he started the ritual. He traced the shape of her sleeping form, from her hair to her hips. He detailed her face down to the delicate eyelashes that would twitch as she slept.
This wasn’t anything new. It was a coping strategy that he’d used on a dozen or so missions when his anxiety seemed higher than usual. He would trace her features and feel better.
Except this time. This time, he didn’t feel better. She wouldn’t be waiting for him to return with that bright, knowing smile. She wouldn’t call or text just to check up on him. She was gone. She had been for weeks.
“Shit,” he hissed, rubbing his hand down his face before sitting up and hanging his head between his knees.
Wouldn’t the world get a good laugh at this? The fearless and strong Captain America sulking at 1am in a pair of polyester sweatpants?
He let out a dark laugh and stood up, knowing he wouldn’t be going back to sleep. He looked at his dresser, barely able to distinguish the crumpled ball of paper on top. In it, a short, hand-written note. Be back soon. Steve has assumed she’d gone out for coffee or a walk and would be back any moment.
And then, she wasn’t.
It was a bit of a mystery, actually.
When they’d first met, he was taken aback by her beauty and unbridled spirit. She’d brushed past him at the sandwich shop, impatient with his and Bucky’s indecisiveness.
“Captain America or not,” she’d snapped, “some of us have shit to do.” With that, she spun around, her hair whipping dramatically over her shoulder and ordered.
It was Bucky’s idea to approach her, despite her visible annoyance. Steve was glad he did, for her prickly demeanor softened with a peace offering of a slice of cheesecake and a deli pickle. She’d even invited them to eat with her.
From that moment on, all Steve wanted was to be with her. She was fine with that - on one condition: in no uncertain terms, Steve was not even to consider himself in love with her. She didn’t “do” that.
Every moment possible, he was with her. She would laugh at his ignorance to current pop culture, then educate him. They’d cook together, spending lazy days eating and watching movies.
When he left on a mission, she’d miss him, but would never dare say it.
She loved him; he knew it. But she’d never say that either.
So, he took a chance.
Those three words rolled off of his tongue naturally, punctuated only by the perfect setting of getting ready for bed. His stomach dropped when he did it, nervously twisting as he waited. It dropped even further when she looked up at him with a mixture of fear and anger shading her face. Without a word, she left the room and went to bed.
He called her bluff. And lost.
Leaning against the bed frame, he sighed. Since he was pulled from the ice, issues were sleep weren’t new. Luckily for him, the serum kept him from feeling too tired. She called it his “Super-Soldier-Second-Wind.”
She always came up with cute names for his quirks.
“I need a walk,” he grunted into the darkness, strengthening his resolve to leave the bed.