Archive of Our Own

He was there every day. It was hard not to notice him. He was so bright, a shining light inside the dirty, dirty walls of the New York City train.

           Y/N may be a bit distracted, but she was no idiot. She saw how he behaved. Clothes bigger than it should be, trying to hide and blend in as much as he could, even though she was almost completely sure he knew he couldn’t. He was so out of place. Her heart went out to him. She had been in his shoes, once. Coming in from another country to a city arguably bigger than it should be was the most daunting thing she had ever had to do. But she had made it.

           Y/N was almost sure she knew who he was. But then again, all those history classes were fuzzy inside her brain. Maybe she was just imagining things. Just maybe. But she would rather gamble with that thought a bit longer.

           He was already there when she got on the train that morning, one week after she saw him for the first time. And just like always, sitting awkwardly and uncomfortably on the same seat he sat the first time she saw him. She gripped the book tightly. Y/N hoped this would do the trick.

           Instead of taking the seat a couple of rows ahead of said man, she chose to sit next to him. She was betting and riding on a lot of assumptions she had made along the week she spent observing him. She could feel her heart thumping against her ribcage. She gulped, and finally opened the book to the page she had last read, sharing a millisecond glance to the man sitting beside her.

           Steve noticed the girl beside him. He was sure she was the same one from last week. The one who exchanged kind smiles and knowing glances. The one who hadn’t been frightened or intimidated by him and the only one who had the courage to sit next to him in the entire week he started taking this train to Manhattan.

           She was intriguing to say the least. She had always a pencil and a notebook in hand, and despite Steve’s hopes, he knew the scribbling she made were not drawings. He had quickly glanced one day in the contents of her notebook—in passing not like a creep. He had understood nothing. All the numbers and symbols were just that to him. To her, it must have some meaning because he saw a smile passing every time she managed to stop and look at what she did.

           But that morning she wasn’t scribbling. She had a battered book in hand, almost as if she gripped more tightly the cover would crumble into pieces. He looked again at the title. This Side of Paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald. He had read that, once when he was in high school. Steve wasn’t one to sympathize with Amory’s quest for purpose. He thought it was silly for the man to not settle, especially after he came back for the war. He was innocent back then; he thought the war was what would honor Steve’s purpose in this world. Hindsight was precious and a burden.

           “I read that book, once,” he commented in passing. She looked up from her book and looked at him. Steve didn’t miss the kind smile on her face.

           “Really?” she said. Her voice had a different lull to it. Steve found it intriguing. “I’ve just came across it. It’s really interesting.”

           “It is,” he rubbed his hands in a nervous habit he had acquired in the week he had been defrosted. “I used to think that Amory was jerk.”

           “Well, you’re not wrong,” she said playfully, and Steve cracked an involuntary smile. “I’m Y/N,” her hand extended while the other kept the page she was reading.

           Steve took her hand and shook it. “Steve,” he said simply.

           Her eyes twinkled with knowledge. “Nice to meet ya, Steve.”

           There was something about her tone—and she knew that wholeheartedly—that screamed acknowledgement. Y/N wished that wasn’t so transparent. “Where are you headed, Steve?”

           He looked at his hands an embarrassed smile framing his angelic face. “I have some, huh, errands in Manhattan.” How would he say that he had to go to a secret government agency so he could regulate his situation, because he had been presumed dead for the last 70 years? “How about you?”

           She smiled. “Manhattan, too. I’m an engineer for Stark Industries.”

           “That’s, uh, great,” he said shifting awkwardly in his seat. “Do you work on something interesting?”

           Y/N let out a breathy laugh. “Do you consider clean energy interesting?”

           Steve looked into her eyes for what it felt the first time. He felt something weird in the pit of his stomach. “I—” he hesitated. “Yeah, sure.”

           She felt his hesitation and decided not to push further. Y/N could feel his uneasiness and decided not to push it further. She fumbled for something inside her bag. She extended her hand, a piece of paper laying in her palm. “Here,” she said. Steve took it delicately, his fingers brushing lightly on the palm of her hand.

           He opened it. There was an address and a phone number written on it. “I, uh, realized that you were quite out of place, and I was once in that situation, God knows how much I needed someone,” she brushed a loose strand of her out of her forehead. “I just wanted you to know that if you need anything, anything at all, you can drop by or give me a call. I’ll help you.”

           He smiled, shoving the piece of paper in his jacket’s pocket. “You really shouldn’t give your address to strangers.”

           She smiled at his concern. “I know,” she got up, her stop approaching. “But I trust you, Steve. Even if you are a complete stranger.”

           With that, the doors of the train opened. She gave Steve one last smile, leaving him completely and utterly speechless. Somehow, he trusted her too.

Against any better judgement, Steve found himself on her doorstep, that same evening.

           Brooklyn had changed so much since the last time he saw it. He looked around the tall buildings and a sense of tread dawned on him, just like the first time he saw it. He didn’t remember any of those buildings being there back then. Maybe except the one he was standing right in front of.

           It was a wonder that it had survived that long. Steve reminisced that right across the street had a swell bar that Bucky once took him to. He remembered walking down the streets alone, even with all of Bucky’s protests, after his best friend found a dame to dance with.

Now, it was a simple market. No more of that crowded atmosphere. No more of the extravagant glimmer it held back then. Just a simple market.

           He turned around and got up the stairs. He saw a box with buttons on it. Yet another obstacle, something seemly so simple and so foreign to him. The tread seemed to take permanent residence on the pit of his stomach. Steve saw the tags next to buttons and looked for her name. He pressed it, hoping it would do something.

           “Hello?” Y/N came out through the static. Steve jolted, in surprise.

           He hesitated before decided—as silly as it sounded—to speak to it. “Is that Y/N?”

           “Steve? Hey, I’ll let you in,” then the door buzzed. Steve pushed it open. He glanced at the little paper she had given him earlier that day, noting the number of the apartment and walking up the flights of stairs.

           He could smell something delicious as soon as he got to her door. He knocked on her door, and a muffled ‘come in’ sounded through. Steve turned the doorknob and opened the door, finally. He was overwhelmed by a variety of things, mostly the familiar smell of homemade apple pie, that his Mum made him, once upon a time.

           “Sorry I couldn’t get the door, I was kinda busy with dinner,” Y/N turned off the stove as Steve got in the apartment. She cleaned her hands on a rag and closed the door behind Steve.

           “I didn’t know you were having dinner. I would have brought something,” Steve said looking at the ground.

           “Nonsense,” she smiled. “I hope you like pasta and apple pie, ‘cause that’s all I have today,” she opened the oven to check on her pie. Steve noticed she was barefoot, wearing a hoodie with a university logo on it.

           “That’s fine, ma’am,” he told her, shifting uncomfortably.

           “Ma’am?” she said under her breath. She looked at him and saw his awkward posture. “Please, sit. Suddenly I forgot all my manners.”

           Steve rubbed his hands on the side of his pants, as he followed her lead towards her sofa. “I gotta be honest, Steve, I didn’t think you’d come,” she said.

           “Honestly, didn’t think I would either,” Steve replied in a breathy laugh. Y/N could tell he was nervous, but she was confused on the why.

           “I’m glad you’re here, though. I want to help. I can tell you are kind of lost,” Y/N said kindly. She smiled knowingly. “But, before you tell me anything, I have to say something,” she said. “I don’t want to fool you into thinking I don’t know anything about you, ‘cause that would be a lie. I don’t know you, but I know what happened to you,” she gulped. “It doesn’t make me want to not help any less, though.”

           The corners of Steve’s mouth quirked up. “That’s… good.”

           “Perfect,” she said clasping her hands together. “Let’s get started then. I’ll set the table up, you can tell me the things you are struggling with and we’ll talk over dinner.”

One dinner lead to another. And then another and another.  Truthfully, Y/N knew she was being more help than she knew. Sometimes she felt that just having someone to make him company, no talking needed, was more helpful than any advice or piece of information she might throw his way.

           A week later after the first dinner, they encountered themselves at Steve’s chosen gym. Y/N could see why he had chosen it. It was very vintage. She could feel in her bones the number of stories the walls must have seen. Maybe she briefly wished walls could talk. But despite it, she knew it made Steve feel a little less like a fish out of water.

           She was there to keep him company. He was so quiet all through their meal. She sensed something wrong. He had trouble sleeping, he said. She suggested that maybe he should tire himself out. So, they walked to his gym.

No one in sight, only them, she observed Steve as he angrily took off his hand wraps, the boxing bag he had been punching lay on the floor, ripped. She knew he didn’t want to talk quite yet, so she calmly and quietly sat on one of the benches, waiting for him to be ready.

           And yet, her waiting didn’t pay off. Y/N saw a dark figure, dressed all in black, wearing an eye patch to match his already shady persona. She felt like she shouldn’t be there anymore. “Steve,” she whispered. She caught his attention and motioned discreetly towards the door. “I’m gonna head home. We’ll talk later, okay?” she squeezed his hand lightly. Y/N walked past him and the dark figure, not exactly looking back.

           Steve observed Y/N walking out, then glanced at the man before resorting to continue taking off his equipment. With that familiar sense of tread settling in the pit of stomach, he braced himself for what was to come.          

           “Trouble sleeping?” Fury said.

           “I slept for seventy years, sir. I think I’ve had my fill,” Steve replied, a bit out of breath. He seated on the bench looking at his calloused hands.

           “Then you should be out, celebrating, seeing the world. With your lady friend.”

           Steve sighed. “I went under the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn’t say what we lost.”

           Fury replied, calmly: “We’ve made some mistakes along the way. Some very recently.”

           “You here with a mission, sir?” Steve asked, already knowing the answer.

           “I am.”

           “Trying to get me back to the world?”

           “Trying to save it,” he threw a thick case file on the bench Steve was sitting on. Steve picked up and opened it, the glowing blue cube the first to stare back at him. The tread intensified in his stomach.

           “Hydra’s secret weapon,” he said, quietly. He had hoped that he had left Hydra in the forties. Maybe he had been a fool to let himself believe that.

           “Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think, the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That’s something the world sorely needs.”

           Steve remembered something Y/N said in passing about that. “Who took it from you?”

           “He’s called Loki. He’s not from around here. There’s a lot we’ll have to bring up to speed on if you’re in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know.”

           Steve scoffed. “At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me.”

           “Ten bucks says you’re wrong. There’s a debriefing package waiting for you back at your apartment.”

           Steve pushed himself off the bench and brushed past Fury. He knelt and picked up the ripped boxing bag with ease and started walking towards the exit.

           “Is there anything you can tell about the Tesseract that we ought to know?”

           Steve said, immediately after, bitterness crawling his way to his voice: “You should have left it in the ocean.”

“We’re here on the scene now where the group of superheroes called the Avengers are fighting what it seems to be aliens, Tom,” the reporter said through the television. Y/N chewed on her pen, nervously. She was glad she wasn’t in Manhattan, but her stomach did funny churns every time the camera showed even a little but of the action. She hoped Steve was alright.

           It was funny how two little weeks made him care for him so much. It was also funny how she had stopped working on the biggest project of her career to hold her heart on her hand and watch the television for some clue that Steve was fine.

           Funnily enough, she felt like she was in the forties. Waiting for her brother, or husband or whatever to come back from a war that most likely he wouldn’t come out alive. Y/N knew he was more than capable to survive. He had survived before. He will again.

           That certainty did ease at all this anxious feeling she felt prickling at her skin.

           “We see Iron Man ascending towards the hole in the sky, Tom,” Y/N’s breath hitched. “The hole is closing and we do not see Iron Man coming out.”

           “Now, we are accompanying our field reporter Tania with news coming from what it is now being called The Battle of Manhattan. Iron Man has dived into appears to be a Black Hole opened in the middle of the city’s sky. Tania you have new information?” Tom said hastily.

           “Yes, Tom!” Tania said excitedly. “Iron Man was seen falling from the closing Black Hole and the Hulk dived to catch him, let’s see the replay.”

           Y/N felt like she could breathe again. It was over.

Steve had done it again. He had survived. At that point, he had lost count on how many times he managed to pull through the other side.

           He stumbled through the streets of Brooklyn, his uniform tattered and extremely dirty. He limped slightly and his hand found his side, caressing gently wishing the pain would go away. The battle had ended, they had dealt with everything, and he found himself lost, yet again.

           His feet carried him to the familiar building. Funny how in two weeks Y/N managed to go from complete stranger to the one thing he thought about. How he managed to come out of the other side he didn’t know, but he knew that in every second he wished Y/N was safe and as far away from the madness the world had become as possible.

           Steve limped towards the handrail of the building’s stairs. He leaned on it, taking a rest. He could feel the serum take away his pain, but he was still so hurt.

           “Steve?” he heard. He looked up, towards the entrance of the building, Y/N standing there in her sweats, barefoot. She got down the stairs and stood next to him. “Are you okay?”

           Steve laughed breathily. “I’m alive.”

           “That is not funny,” she said, suppressing a giggle at his attempt of a joke. “Let’s get you inside.”

           She tried to support him so he could go up the stairs, but he managed on his own, even all the way up to her floor. She opened the door and he stumbled in, limping to lay on the couch. Y/N closed the door and looked at Steve. “I, uh, was worried.”

           The corners of Steve’s mouth quirked up involuntarily. “I was, too.”

           “You don’t have to worry about me, Steve,” Y/N said shyly.

           “I can’t help it.”

           There were a few beats between them, before Y/N cleared her throat. “I think it’s a good idea for you to take a shower. I’m going to head out and get you some clean clothes, okay?”

           “Yeah, okay,” Steve saw her pick up the keys and wallet. “Wait,” he said. She stopped and looked at him. “Thank you. For caring.”

           She smiled in return, her stomach filling with a nervous feeling she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t quite know how to respond to him, so she settled for: “Go take your shower, I’ll be right back.”

           Steve got up from the couch with difficulty as he said: “Yes, ma’am.”

Steve nervously fiddled with the food on his plate. Y/N was talking on the phone over some important shipment of something Steve hadn’t quite understood. Even after a couple of months in the future—which he still struggled to call his present, but not as much as he had—he had yet to grasp a few concepts.

           He had to tell her. He wouldn’t be staying in New York. It just hadn’t felt right ever since he came out of the ice. So, when the transfer came his way, he thought it would be a good idea. See the world, try different things, discover another place. Why not?

           But the lingering question was: why was he nervous to tell her?

           She had been nothing but supportive to him. Patient, when Steve knew most people would have walked out. Caring, when he had no one to care about him. She would be okay.

           “I’m sorry, it’s just the delivery is going to be delayed again and I can’t have—” she started to ramble.

           “Y/N, I have to tell ya something,” Steve interrupted her. Her face sobered up immediately.

           “What’s wrong?” her eyes scanning his face, looking for a clue of what might have happened.

           “I’ve been offered a position in Washington,” Steve said lowly.

           Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That’s great, Steve. You should be happy, it’s a great opportunity. Why’re you so serious?”

           “Because I plan on taking it.”

           “Oh,” she said, understanding the problem. “Steve, if you’re worried about me being angry about you moving, you shouldn’t. It’s great that you want to do this,” she continued.

           She couldn’t help but feel like she was lying. It was genuinely great that he wanted to do this, it meant he started to move on with his life. It also meant that he was ready to leave her behind. And she didn’t want that. She got attached. The butterflies only grew with each time she saw him. It was exponential.

           “I don’t…” Steve trailed off. “I’m not worried.”

           Y/N knew he lied. He wouldn’t have been that serious if he hadn’t been worried. “It’s okay, Steve,” she reached for his hand and squeezed. “I have something to tell you too.”

           “Okay,” he said, suspicious.

           “I’ve received a call from Tony Stark,” she said.

           “Really?” Steve said slightly confused.

           “Really. He said he was impressed with my project and wanted to meet with me, tomorrow,” she said coyly. “Can you believe?”

           “I can,” Steve said confidently. “Tony mentioned you to me, actually.”

           Y/N looked up from her plate, her eyes twinkling. “What did he say?”

           “That he was impressed with your work and some other stuff that I’m not allowed to mention.”

           She shrugged. “It’s okay, I’m pretty sure he will tell me tomorrow.”

           Steve laughed and shook his head at her cheekiness. “Will we be okay?”

           She looked at him once more, her face contorted to a baffled expression. “Of course, we will,” she abandoned her silverware and held Steve’s hands in her own. “we can always stay in touch. Letters, texts, video chats. This isn’t the end of us, Steve.”

           That last phrase sent butterflies into Steve’s stomach. He hadn’t felt that since 1945. She was right. They had more resources to keep in touch than in the forties.

           Everything would be alright.

Washington had been great. Until it wasn’t.

           Steve had thought that Hydra would just be a skeleton in his closet. Something that he would never heal from, but in the past. He had sacrificed himself to end Hydra, to end all wars.

           He had quickly seen that to think that he would end all wars was naïve. But he still hoped that it had ended Hydra. Even if the remains of that organization were still around, Hydra was done.

           Washington had proved that you cut one head two more appear in its place.

           Hydra not only had survived like a cockroach; they had corrupted the legacy of his friends. If Peggy could have seen what her organization had become, she would have… Steve didn’t want to think that.

           Back in New York, Tony had insisted he stay in the Tower. Not that Steve planned to go back to the depressing apartment S.H.I.E.L.D had arranged to him back when he got out of the ice. Besides, he was sure he wouldn’t stay much, he had Bucky to look for.

           He shoved his hands in his pockets. Walking down the corridor he wondered if he would ever feel at home again.

           “Steve?” he heard. He looked up from the ground and saw Y/N at the end of the corridor. She smiled brightly at him and he felt his insides melt. “Is that you?”

           “Yeah,” he breathed out. She started to walk towards him, with open arms, heals clicking on the cold floor. She threw her arms around his neck and Steve couldn’t help but blush. He thanked that the corridor was empty.

           “What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn’t be back for a while,” she quizzed him, her breath tingling his ear a bit.

           “I came back earlier. It was—Had a few surprises back in Washington and it was best I headed back here,” he explained.

           “I saw the news. You don’t need to be cryptic about it,” she said breaking the hug and taking a good look at him.

           “You have no idea,” Steve muttered.

           Her eyebrows furrowed at his comment, confused. “You look different, Steve,” she said, kindly.

           “I feel different,” he responded. “I’m not…” he trailed off.

           “It’s okay,” she whispered, hugging him again. He always seemed to run out of words when he was talking about his feelings, and Y/N completely understood that. “Let’s go to my office, so I can change out of this stuffy suit and you can tell me all about your adventures,” she said kindly and honestly.

           “Okay,” he said, once again breaking the hug and walking beside her towards the other end of the corridor.

           There was a door with her name on it, and Steve felt his stomach flip with pride and butterflies at the sight. She opened the door and pushed him inside, closing the door and locking it, clearly a sign to not disturb.

           She kicked her heals off, the shoes complete thrown on the floor. Steve stood stoically beside the locked door, and she eyed him suspiciously. Y/N walked behind her desk and picked her change of clothes out of a drawer. Still looking at him, she walked behind a bookcase that separated her office to a small living space, so she could have some privacy.

           “Steve,” she raised her voice, catching his attention. “Is everything okay?”

           “Why wouldn’t it be?” Steve deflected the question.

           “I don’t know, Steve. You seem weird,” she said as she walked out from behind the bookcase, her old clothes folded in her hands. Now in sweatpants and barefoot, just like Steve remembered her, he felt the familiar clench in his stomach.

           “I’m not weird,” he shifted awkwardly on his feet, and for a moment Y/N saw Steve back.

           She laid her clothes on her desk and sighed heavily. “I’m going to say something and please don’t take this the wrong way.”

           Steve suspiciously looked at her and nodded.

           “You don’t have to be Captain America around me,” she said, looking at her hands. “You seem so tense,” she walked to him, her hands finding his shoulders.

           He breathed out, his shoulders relaxing and his hands finding hers. “I am tense,” he muttered. His heart started beating faster at the proximity.

           “What happened?” she whispered, her heart beating faster too.

           “My past keeps haunting me,” he said. Her hands found the sides of his face, and Steve didn’t have the time nor the will to be afraid at the shift in their relationship. “Bucky…He was my best friend. And I thought he died. He fell off a train, logically he would have died. So, I didn’t look for him. His family had to burry an empty casket because I didn’t look for him,” he said, bitterly. Her thumbs stroke caringly on his cheeks.

          “He…Hydra found him. They had captured him before and injected something on him that made him survive the fall. They brainwashed him,” Steve continued, his voice full of emotion, one thing he didn’t allow himself to show in front of others, he didn’t know why. “He suffered a fate worse than death, all ‘cause I was too busy to look for him. He would have looked for me.”

          Her arms found his way to his shoulders and she hugged him tightly. His face buried on the crook of her neck, he breathed slowly trying to calm himself down. “It is not your fault. Hydra did this.”

          “It sure doesn’t feel like it,” he said, his voice muffled by her hoodie.

          “But it is not your fault. They did this to get to you, because they knew how much he meant to you,” she said sternly. “Don’t let the horrors that they did rest on your shoulders. Find Bucky and help him. It is the best that you can do.”

          “I know,” Steve said quietly.

          She broke the hug and looked him over once more. He still looked different, but he looked like Steve and that’s what mattered. “I’m here. Always,” she said, looking him in the eye.

          Steve looked right back. It was like her eyes held the secret to the entire universe, and only he could know. He loved it. “Thank you,” he said seriously.

          “You don’t need to thank me, Steve,” she said smiling. His eyes flickered for one second to her lips. He felt the urge to kiss her, he wanted to kiss her.

          She wanted to kiss him, truly. She had waited too long for lingering thoughts and doubts. He was right there, his eyes on her lips. But it wouldn’t be right. It wasn’t the scenario she had imagined. He wasn’t okay. So, she would wait.

          She gave him a lingering peck on the cheek and left his arms. Steve never felt this cold. “So, what do ya want for dinner?” she said with a smile.

          Steve smiled back. Even with everything, it was good to have her. It was familiar. He liked it.

Y/N stood awkwardly in the corner of the room bustling with people. She doubted that she would have been invited to that party if she weren’t working closely with Tony Stark. Too many important people were there, and she knew she wasn’t one of them. She was just an engineer.

           She looked down at her glass and noticed it empty. She made a bee line to the bar, avoiding eye contact. She reached the bar and took a seat on the empty stool at the edge of the counter. Her fingers traced the rim of the glass, bored.

           “What can I get for the lady?” the bartender said.

          Y/N looked up and shrugged. “Just water, please.”

          “Don’t drink?” she said lightly, while she poured water for Y/N.

          “No, actually. I don’t quite enjoy alcohol.”

          “Huh,” she hummed. “I see,” she said. She put the pitcher of water down and extended her hand. “I’m Natasha.”

          Y/N took her hand and shook it. “Y/N.”

          “What are you doing here, Y/N?” Natasha asked.

          “I was invited by Tony, actually. I work with him,” Y/N explained.

          “Tony works with a lot of people. He doesn’t invite just anyone to these things,” Natasha said suspiciously.

          Y/N let out a nervous laugh. She felt like Natasha was profiling her, which was most likely the case. “I worked with him on the Avengers facility upstate. He says he ‘hand-picked me’. Whatever that means.”

          “I see,” her eyes narrowed. There was something Y/N was not telling her. She noticed her glass empty again. “More water?”

          “No, thanks,” Y/N let out a strained smile.

          Natasha lingered a bit more before going to the other end of the bar to talk to someone else. Y/N stayed planted on the stool, too bored to try to mingle of the others, but most importantly too shy.

          She felt a hand on the small of her back. “Hey,” the husky voice said. She only relaxed when she saw that it was Steve beside her.

          “Steve…” she breathed out, relieved, a smile forming in her face. “I thought you would stay with the others.”

          “They’ve had enough of me for now,” he smiled. “Why’re you alone?”

          She shrugged. “I don’t feel like mingling,” she said. Steve’s hand remained on the small of her back and she liked the feeling of it.

          “How ‘bout a dance?” Steve said, his eyes twinkling in a way she had never seen before.

          She let out a nervous breath. “I don’t know, Steve. The music,” she heard the obnoxious beat of an overbearing song blast through the speakers, “it’s not exactly for dancing.”

          “We can dance to our own music,” he extended his hand to her. An invitation she couldn’t quite refuse.

          She took his hand, a shy smile on her face. The warmth of his hand on her brought an eruption of a million butterflies to her entire system. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks as he guided her towards the more disguised place of the room. Both of his hands were on her waist, and her arms found their way to his shoulder.

          Steve guided her through a slow rhythm. “Aren’t ya worried your friends are going to see us? I mean, it’s not exactly known that we’re…” she didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Because Steve was her everything and calling him a friend felt like an understatement, at least.

          “I’m not. I just want to enjoy a dance with my girl,” Steve said bravely, and Y/N smiled shyly and looked to the ground. He had called her ‘my girl’ that meant something.

          “Steve, I think we need to talk,” she said quietly, her eyes trailed to their feet.

          His hand found her chin, pushing gently her face to look at him. Her eyes were filled with uncertainty, his were filled with something that Y/N thought resembled love. She hoped it was precisely that. “Not yet. Please,” he said, begging for more time.

          She wished she could give him more time. “I don’t know about that…” she muttered.

          “I promise you; we will have this conversation. But, not yet,” he whispered, his forehead now resting on hers.

          She couldn’t find in her to argue and scream to the top of her lungs how she was tired of waiting for him. But then again, she had waited this long. And he had promised, and she found that he never ever broke a promise.

          She nodded, and he smiled as they continued to dance away to a song that didn’t match the beat of the rest of the world.

Y/N tinkered away in a side project Tony had her working on when she heard people walking down the otherwise empty Avengers Tower hallway.

           “A little help!” Tony yelped struggling with a giant equipment. Doctor Banner was sweating, a vein popping on his forehead form the effort he was pulling.

           Y/N dropped the equipment she was working on and grabbed her tablet, programming Tony’s robots to pick the… she didn’t know what that was.

           “I thought you wouldn’t be back for hours,” she said to Tony.

           “I thought you wouldn’t be here,” he answered.

           “I was working on the new communications system for your team. What’s your excuse?” she said, sassily.

           “Less traffic on the airway,” he said seriously, already working on what he had brought.

           “What is this,” Y/N said examining the huge box, for lack of a better description. Her eyes twinkled with curiosity.

           “Ultron’s cradle,” Doctor Banner said, looking at it with unspoken horror and guilt.

           “What?” Y/N whispered, incredulously.

           “Ultron wanted to build another body, a better one,” Banner explained.

           “So, he’s into eugenics now?” she quizzed, rhetorically.  “We don’t need another Adolph, tell him to piss off,” she said.

           “I already said that and he wouldn’t do it,” Tony answered. “So, we are changing up the strategy.”

           “What will you do?” she said to Tony.

           “Still haven’t found that answer, can you wait like, two minutes?” Tony responded his eyes trailed to what he was doing.

           “No, Tony. I shouldn’t be here, this is none of my business and I won’t be any help so I’m going to get my things and work in the other lab,” she said gathering her equipment.

           “We could use your help,” Tony said, still typing.

           She left without making a sound, ready to cross the entire floor to put some distance between her and that craziness. She made large strides, eager to not get involved in whatever her boss had up his sleeve.

           The rational part in her told that if she didn’t want to get involved, she shouldn’t have accepted a job in Stark Industries, least of all accepted a job that close to the Avengers. The scientist part in her told her to turn back and watch science be made.

          She compromised.

           She ran to the smaller lab at the other side of the floor. Hastily throwing her things on a nearby table, she accessed the nearest computer. “FRIDAY, show me live footage from the main lab.”

           The screen popped out. Jarvis was in the center of the room, the big yellow ball moving like it was breathing. Tony was with that stupid expression on his face when he wanted to convince someone to do something stupid with him.

           “No, I’m in a loop!” Dr. Banner said exasperated. “I’m caught in a time loop; this is exactly where it all went wrong.”

           “I know, I know,” Tony answered, trying to ease his friend. “I know what everyone’s going to say, but they’re already saying it. We’re mad scientists. We’re monsters, buddy. You gotta own it,” Dr. Banner shook his head, maybe in denial, but most definitely trying to not be convinced by Tony. Y/N knew better than to resist her boss’s demands. It would only lead to headache and Tony would end up getting his way, no matter. “Make a stand. It’s not a loop. It’s the end of the line.”

           Bruce made no sound, he simply moved to start working, considering the fight lost. Y/N observed quietly the dance they made, only comprehensible to only those involved.

          Hours passed eventually and she continued to absentmindedly tinker with the comms, listening patiently to the movement of the footage displaying on the computer screen. She had made little progress optimizing the tech, she would surely go back to it later.

          “This framework is not compatible,” Tony said, breaking the silence.

          Y/N looked up from her work, her eyes perking up, “FRIDAY, turn up the volume please.”

          “The genetic coding tower’s at ninety-seven percent. You have got to upload that schematic in the next three minutes.” Dr. Banner answered, just as Steve stormed in the lab with two people Y/N didn’t recognize.

          “I’m gonna say this once,” Steve’s voice was menacing and heavy with authority, and she had never seen him like that. Steve Rogers was no longer the gentle and kind man she had seen; he was Captain America.

          “How about ‘nonce’?” Tony snapped back.

          “Shut it down!” Steve raised his voice.

          “Nope, not gonna happen,” said Tony, moving around his work station, practically ignoring the three new people in the room.

          The feeling that Y/N shouldn’t be watching this was growing within her. As much as she was involved in the tech and upgrades of the team’s equipment, she wasn’t a part of it. She felt like she was intruding a family quarrel.

          “You don’t know what you’re doing,” Steve replied, his voice once again menacing.

          “And you do?” Bruce interfered. “She’s not in your head?” He motioned to the girl in the room next to Steve. Y/N’s heart raced in her ribcage, feeling something bad happening.

          “I know you’re angry,” the girl said, accent heavy.

          “Oh, we’re way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade,” Bruce said, angrily.

          “Banner, after everything that’s happened…” Steve interfered.

“That’s nothing compared to what’s coming!” Tony screamed.

          Y/N took that as a sign. “FRIDAY shut down the footage. I don’t want to see this anymore,” she requested politely, her voice trembling.

          It took a few moments before she could recollect herself. After that, her first thought was Steve. Where was he?

          “FRIDAY?”

          “Yes, Miss Y/N,” the AI answered.

          “Where’s Captain Rogers?” his title felt weird on her lips. To her, he would always be just Steve.

          “He is on his way to his dressing room,” FRIDAY replied.

          “Thank you,” Y/N said bolting out of the tiny lab, on her way to her…something she couldn’t quite classify just yet.

          She reached the quiet room. Steve with his back towards the entrance, adjusting his uniform, his shield discarded somewhere beside him. “Steve?” she whispered.

          He whipped around, brows furrowed in concentration, relaxing when he saw her. “Hey, Y/N” he breathed out, relaxing. He could feel the knot in his stomach uncoiling.

          “You just got here and you’re already leaving?” she asked quietly coming into the room. Steve met her halfway, embracing her warmly in his arms.

          “We need to do this,” he said, righteously.

          “I know, I just miss you,” she answered. “Please come back to me, I’m not ready to say goodbye to you,” she pleaded to him, looking in his eyes.

          “I promise, I will come back to you,” he said, lowly but confidently.

          “Steve,” she said and he hummed in reply. She reached for his lips, kissing him tenderly. He was caught by surprise, but quickly recomposed himself answering her kiss. His hands found her waist as her arms crossed behind his neck.

          The kiss was far shorter than both would have liked. But both had places to be, and things to do.

          “Please be safe,” she pleaded once again.

          “Don’t worry,” he pecked her forehead. “I will.”

Steve was nurturing a headache ever since the meeting with the Secretary of State. He had managed to slip out of the meeting and avoid the looming conversation of whether he was going to sign the stupid Accords or not.

           He leaned into the frame of the main laboratory in the arms crossed on his chest, a light smile on his face. God, he was so whipped.

           Y/N was working on something he didn’t quite know what it was yet—she had been secretive about it. Her hair was tied in a bun, and Steve could tell she was wearing her glasses. Dozens of mugs littered her work station and the smell of fresh tea lingered in the air. She yelped as something on her table snapped, dropping the tool in her hand.

           He pushed himself off the frame. He walked next to her and crouched picking up the abandoned tool.

           “Steve, thank you” she said coyly. She still wasn’t used to having this man, this God-send man, at her mercy, wrapped around her finger. Because he was, so much. “I thought you had a meeting.”

           He got up, his hands now on her waist, close to her. “I managed to get out early.”

           She smiled. His forehead leaning on hers, his eyes filled with something she could only classify as love.  “What was it about?” she asked curiously.    

           He sighed, knowing that she would not cave in for some talk about wanting not wanting to talk about it. Because it was clearly bothering Steve, and she would do just about anything to ease his worries. He kissed her lips trying to distract her, and she responded lovingly.

           Unfortunately, the kiss was broken too soon. Steve found that al of their kisses didn’t last long enough.

           She pushed herself off Steve, taking a step back and holding his hands on hers. “Talk, please,” she said.

           “They want to restrict the Avengers,” Steve said bluntly. “The Avengers will not longer be a private organization and will be supervised by the UN.”

           Her furrowed and she let out a confused what. “How? I mean, I know how, but that…that’s just wildly…Why would they do that?”

           “I guess Lagos was the last straw,” Steve said quietly.

           “Steve,” she said, pulling him into a hug.

           “This feels low. Wanda’s having a hard time dealing with this, and these Accords are going to restrict her to a weapon of mass destruction,” Steve said. “we’re all going to be puppets for the government.”

           Y/N sighed, breaking the hug. “Steve, look at me,” she demanded. Steve’s blue eyes found hers. “Do what you think is right, but please, please, don’t do anything stupid.”

           Steve kissed her forehead tenderly, filled with love. “I won’t,” he answered, knowing he would most likely do something stupid.

Steve Rogers was a criminal. A fugitive of the law. It was hard to wrap her head around that.

           She said: ‘Don’t do anything stupid’. She knew what he did wasn’t stupid, but she couldn’t help but feel like it was.

           What was even harder to fathom was that it had been two years since she last saw him. Two years since she last hugged him, kissed him, hell, spoke to him. The line of communication they shared was scarce, and letters—like those Steve had send to her when he was living in DC—were completely and utterly impossible to be sent.

           It broke her heart, to spend so much time away from him. She hoped he still loved her because it was impossible for her to stop loving him.

           “Still no word from Vision?” Secretary’s Ross hologram asked to Rhodes. Sitting on a near by table, Y/N feet dangled a bit, quietly watching the exchange.

           “Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh,” Rhodes said.

           “On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world’s most wanted criminals,” Secretary threw back.

           “You know they’re only criminals because you’ve chosen to call them that, right, sir?” Rhodes said, beginning to get annoyed at the situation.

           “Rhodey,” Y/N warned quietly. She was rightfully ignored.

           “My God, Rhodes, your talent for horseshit rivals my own,” Secretary Ross rolled his eyes.

           “If it weren’t for those Accords, Vision would’ve been right here,” Rhodey argued.

           “I remember your signature on those papers, Colonel,” he said, menacingly.

           “That’s right. And I’m pretty sure I’ve paid for that,” Rhodes answered bitterly. Y/N got up and stood next to Rhodey.

           “Mr. Secretary, that’s enough,” Y/N said firmly. The Secretary gave her a once over. He couldn’t let out a response, not when Steve rolled into the room.

           “Mr. Secretary,” Steve said, his voice impassive. Y/N fought herself to not run and hug him and not burst into tears at the sight of him.

           He was so different. His hair was longer, and he sported a beard. She had never imagined him like that. She liked him like that. His uniform was different too. Torn. No star on his chest, a sign of grief of what was torn away from him by a bureaucratic decision, by men with agendas.

           “You got some nerve. I’ll give you that,” the Secretary said, unbelieving of what he was seeing.

           “You could use some of that right now,” Natasha answered. Y/N hadn’t noticed she was there.

           “The world’s on fire. And you think, all is forgiven?” Ross asked.

           “I’m not looking for forgiveness. And I’m way past asking for permission. Earth just lost her best defender. So we’re here to fight,” Steve took a step forward, and Y/N held her breath. “And if you wanna stand in our way… we’ll fight you, too.”

           “Arrest them,” Ross said to Rhodey.

           “All over it,” Rhodes replied, dismissing the hologram. “That’s a court-martial. It’s great to see you, Cap,” he embraces Steve. Y/N felt a flash of green rising in her sight, before remembering herself that it wasn’t exactly known that she had a relationship with Steve in the first place.

           She took a step back as Rhodey hugged Natasha, wishing she had invisibility powers so she could disappear.

          Steve took notice of that, his heart breaking a little at the sight of the love of his life recoiling in shyness and heartbreak. He wished he could have ignored everyone in the room, kissed her like the world was about to end—cause it was—and just whisper to her all the loving thoughts that had consumed him the past two years.

          They hadn’t bothered to listen to the rest of the conversation, to engrossed in their own thoughts of longing and un-whispered ‘I miss you’s and ‘I love you’s. The rest of the people present in the room took the injured Vision to another room, most likely to examine him.

          Once they were alone, Y/N broke out of her trance and lunged herself onto Steve, her view blurred by tears. She kissed him passionately, and he responded as such. “I missed you,” she sobbed. “I’ve never thought I would miss someone like I missed you.”

          He wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks, “I love you,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve said it enough.”

          “You being here with me is enough,” she said.

          “Cap, come here! We need your help,” Rhodey sounded in the room next door.

          “Coming!” he shouted.

          She looked once again at Steve, his gloved hands still on her cheeks. “Duty calls,” she said cheekily, and he cracked a smile.

          She watched Steve walk out. She dried off her tears, and grabbed the cup of tea she was drinking, already cold. She bottomed the rest, the bitter taste of green tea on her tongue. She rested her mug on her workstation and sighed.

          She doubted he would be around for much longer.

          The world was collapsing, and she was going to arrogantly think that she would be his priority, because she wasn’t. He had a duty to complete. When he did finish it, she would be his world. Until then, she would have to wait.

          She sat down, her hands on her face. She was so tired from feeling like a widow of a soldier, she just wanted him. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. He consumed all her thoughts.

          “FRIDAY open the schematics for the new Quinjet,” she said quietly. Best to dive into the work than to dwell on the inevitable.

          “Here are the last 20 blueprints you’ve produced, Ms. Y/N,” the AI answered.

          The blueprints appeared before her, in hologram. Y/N cleared some out of the way, looking for the main blueprint. “Okay, Fri. It’s time to start running some tests.”

          She started building the miniature Quinjet, her fingers typing away all sorts of codes and prompts most wouldn’t understand. To be fair, it took her a while before she could to. A knock sounded not long after she started, and she looked up from her half built miniature Quinjet.

          “We’re going to need a Quinjet,” Rhodey announced.

          “You’re leaving? But they barely got here,’ she said sadly.

          “Steve says he knows someone that can help with the Vision problem,” Rhodes explained. “And I thought it would a better idea to get a newer jet.”

          “Well, you’re right, that jet is over two years and who knows what kind of problems it has,” she muttered. She then opened a drawer and drew out a tablet. She twilled with it, a bit.  “The one in Hangar 2 is ready for use.”

          “Thanks, Y/N,” Rhodes said.

          “Hey, Rhodey,” she called after him. He turned around and looked at her softly. “I’m gonna put the latest version for your suit in it. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

          “Thank you,” he smiled.

          “Send the others in so I can give them the updated communication system. I don’t want to be blindsided during this.”

          He laughed, airily. “Sure thing.”

          Moments later a herd of super people walked in her lab. She felt like she was in a weird convention, except the people in costumes weren’t overexcited geeks and actual super people that could overpower her in the blink of an eye. Steve looked at her apprehensively.

          “I need to change your intercoms, they’re a bit old,” she said. “We don’t need ya dealing with faulty equipment on top of… what else you’re going to deal with.”

          She opened a drawer and pulled a box out of it. She started to rumble through it, the sound filling the room awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I have these for literally everyone that has ever worked with the Avengers, Tony likes to be safe with these things.”

          She pulled a little suitcase out of the bottom of the box. “Here. I hid these after everything that happened,” she explained and opened it. She started handing them out, Steve the last one to receive his. His gaze lingered on her longer than it should have. “They are going to connect automatically with any one wearing the same comms. I can access remotely too if anything happens.”

          “Thank you,” Sam said, putting his on his ear already.

          “It’s nothing,” she dismissed. “I gonna put any piece of tech you can use in that jet, just to be safe.”

          “You really don’t have to,” Natasha said.

          “Better safe than sorry,” Y/N muttered, programming the Dum-E’s—or whatever they were called—to put what she wanted in the jet. “The Quinjet is ready in Hangar 2. You should get going. Time,” she looked at Steve, a fleeting glance, “is a precious thing.”

She worked tirelessly on the new project she had in her hands, determined to finish.

           Hours had passed since they were gone, FRIDAY occasionally giving her updates on the situation in the field. Every time she heard FRIDAY’s voice telling her something from the battlefield—what better word to use? —her stomach did the same funny flip it did seven years prior, when she had only met Steve and New York was in chaos. Except it was worse.

           It was much worse because she finally had him, and the prospect of losing him again made her sick. She had waited and waited and waited, all she wanted was him. She was always almost there, but someone always managed to rip him from her.

           She heard radio silence. No birds chirping, nor ruffle from trees. Nothing. Lifting her head, she looked out of the window. “FRIDAY?”

           “I have lost connection with over half of the team,” the AI informed.

           “Connect me to the remaining ones,” Y/N ordered.

           She heard panting. “Hello? Steve?” she asked, afraid that it might not be him. That he might not be here at all.

           “Y/N?” Steve answered. “You’re alive?”

           “Of course I am, silly,” she said. “What happened?”

           “We…” Steve was unable to finish that sentence.

           “Steve, please,” Y/N begged.

           “We lost,” Natasha answered for him.

           Lost. Defeat. That was foreign to them. Y/N dropped mug on the floor, bumping it from the desk by a simple mistake. “What are,” she swallowed nervously, “the casualties?”

           She opened the connections log, to see the ones on their team that were lost. “Half of the universe,” Steve muttered.

           “God,” her eyes filled with tears.

           The list. It was heartbreaking. She was going to be sick.

           Tony.

           Vision.

           Wanda.

           Sam.

           Peter.

           And it went on. Forever.

           “Y/N,” Steve begged.

           “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Steve, please come home. Please,” she continued to sob.

Five years.

           Five years since that day.

           Five years with Steve by her side, no interruptions, no one to rip him away from her.

          The little apartment she lived in Brooklyn was now her haven, the place where she and Steve would stay endlessly. Cry over what was lost, make happier memories, dance to no song and kiss to their heart’s contempt. Happy memories were made in detriment of the biggest tragedy the universe had ever seen.

          Her ring shone in the sunlight, her hand holding Steve’s as they drove upstate. She sighed. Steve had been down ever since the group therapy. She didn’t ask why. “Do you want to talk?”

          Steve’s eyes were focused on the road. “It’s hard.”

          She looked at him softly. “I know.”

          “I can’t move on, Y/N. I can’t. Not when I feel like there’s still somethin’ I can do,” he said, defeated.

          “I know,” she squeezed his hand. “I’m truly sorry.”

          He looked at her, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. “When this is all over, I’ll give up the shield. We’ll buy a house, live quietly upstate.”

          “Steve…” she said. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

          “This one I can,” he said seriously. “I promise you; I’ll give up the shield. Retire.”

          “I love you,” she confessed.

          “I love you,” he replied.

          “Please, don’t let me down.”

          He looked at her, “I won’t.”

She had missed her lab. It was a bit dusty; she hadn’t been there in months. The last time she was there, it was just to repair some tech that was malfunctioning for Natasha. She was the only one that still lived in the compound.

          She ran her finger on the surface of her old workstation. The last few years were filled with smaller projects, and somehow that felt just as satisfying as sitting there making the best tech in the country.

           She sat on her chair, still as comfortable as she had been before. She turned on the computer in front of her. “FRIDAY?” she said, hesitant.

           “Yes, Ms. Y/N?” the AI responded, just like before.

           “Nothing,” she smiled. “Just wanted to check if you were there.”

           “I’m always here, Ms. Y/N,” FRIDAY answered.

           “You know the drill, Fri. Something happens, please tell me.”

           “Of course.”

           Out of pure nostalgia, she opened her old projects resting on the board. Endless files for all the holograms and communications systems for the compound and the jets. The projects for new armors for Rhodey and the one she dared to design for Tony—she had never actually showed him the blueprint.

           She scrolled through everything, ideas popping in her head. She fished out a new notebook from a draw and picked a pencil, scribbling away endless maths and weird drawings for new things. There was a thrill to these types of projects that she had missed. But it couldn’t help but leave a bittersweet taste on her.

           “Oh! Hi. Hi! Is anyone home? This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport. In Germany? I got really big, and I had my mask on. You wouldn’t recognize me,” she heard, behind her. She turned around in her chair and looked at the screen that popped up.

           She recognized him. He was supposed to be one of the victims. “FRIDAY? What is this?”

           “It is live footage from the front door,” she answered.

           “Ant-Man? Ant-Man, I know you know that. I need to talk to you guys.”

           Y/N dropped everything and headed to where Steve was. Something big was about to happen.

Standing in the woods just outside Tony’s house, Y/N sniffed as she helped Doctor Banner set up the tiny time machine.

           The briefcase that held the cursed stones sat on top of the station, ready to be put back in their respective timelines. She shivered just at the mere memory of how much pain those tiny rocks had brought to everyone. She buried her hands in Steve’s coat, his scent impregnated her senses, bringing her comfort.

           “Now, remember– You have to return the stones to the exact moment you got them. Or you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities,” Bruce said.

           “Don’t worry, Bruce. Clip all the branches,” Steve answered.

           “You know, I tried. When I had the gauntlet, the stones, I really tried to bring her back,” he looked at Steve. “I miss them, man.”

           “Me too.”

           Sam stepped forward. “You know, if you want, I can come with you.”

           “You’re a good man, Sam. This one’s on me, though,” Steve said. She knew of his plan. Her eyes watered a bit.

           He looked at Bucky and hugged him. “I’ll be back, Buck.”

           “I know,” Bucky said.

           Steve looked at her briefly, a soft smile on his face. Her eyes watered even more. “I love you,” she mouthed.

           He went towards her and kissed her hand, her engagement ring glistening.

           Steve stepped on the platform, and Y/N went back to the workstation, pressing buttons to ready the machinery.

           “How long is this gonna take?” Sam asked.

           “For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds,” Bruce answered.

           Steve picked up Mjölnir and closed his helmet.

           “Ready, Cap? Alright. We’ll meet you back here, okay?” Bruce asked. She smiled beside him.

           “You bet,” Steve affirmed.

           “Going quantum. Three, two, one—” Bruce and Y/N flipped a couple of switches and Steve was swallowed by the machinery.

           “And returning in, five, four, three, two, one—” They continued to flip the switches necessary but nothing happened.

           “Bruce, where is he?” Y/N asked, starting to get exasperated.

           “I don’t know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here,” Bruce explained trying to mend this.

           Y/N became nervous. He was supposed to be back. She reached for Bucky, shaking. She needed to ground herself. Bucky grabbed her arm and steadied her.

           Then the machine started to hum, the floor started to glow. And Steve popped out of it, as if nothing had happened. She jumped out of Bucky’s hold and into Steve arms.

           He dropped the hammer and shield by his feet and hugged her, lifting her out of her feet. “You’re okay.”

           “I am,” Steve replied. “I’m sorry it took longer. I had a promise to keep and some things to fix.”

           “It’s okay all that matters is that you’re here with me.”